[ {"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1451, "culture": " Finnish\n", "content": "Produced by Juha Kiuru and Tapio Riikonen\nARTHUR KUNINGAS JA H\u00c4NEN JALOT RITARINSA\nTarinoita Thomas Maloryn Morte d'Arthurista\nToim.\nMARY MACLEOD\nSuomentanut Aino Lehtonen\nWSOY, Porvoo, 1908.\nSIS\u00c4LLYS:\nMaloryn Morte d'Arthur.\nMorte d'Arthurin ensim\u00e4isen painoksen esipuheesta.\nArthur kuningas.\n Miekan ihme.\n Kuinka Arthur kruunattiin kuninkaaksi.\n Lujan linnan piiritys.\n Kuninkaiden taistelu.\n Turmion ennustus.\n L\u00e4hteen ritari.\n Excalibur miekka.\n Py\u00f6re\u00e4 p\u00f6yt\u00e4.\n Taikalaivan ihmeellinen seikkailu.\n Morgan le Fayn kavaluus.\n Kuinka Arthur kuningas sai takaisin oman miekkansa.\n Jalokivi viitta.\n Uni lohik\u00e4\u00e4rmeest\u00e4 ja karjusta.\nJ\u00e4rven herra Lancelot.\n Mets\u00e4n vahva ritari.\n Nelj\u00e4 kuningatarta.\n Kartano kaalamon luona.\n Kuinka Lancelot kaatoi kaksi j\u00e4ttil\u00e4ist\u00e4.\n Vaarojen kappeli ja h\u00e4ijy velho.\n Haukan kavaluus.\nMets\u00e4n ritari Tristram.\n Tristramin lapsuus.\n Kuninkaallinen ritari.\n Kaunis Iseult.\n Lohjennut miekka.\n Kuinka Tristram herra tuli Camelotiin.\n Ennemmin kuolema kuin h\u00e4pe\u00e4.\n Taikajuoma.\n Morgan le Fayn juomasarvi.\n Brittanyn Iseult.\n Kummien seikkailujen mets\u00e4.\n Mets\u00e4n kurja mies.\n \"Lancelot herran t\u00e4hden\"\n Morgan le Fayn kavala petos.\n Neitojen linnalla.\n Turnajaisten kolmas p\u00e4iv\u00e4.\n Kymmenen ritaria etsim\u00e4ss\u00e4.\n Morgan le Fayn kummallinen kilpi.\n Hautakivi Camelot virran rannalla.\nPyh\u00e4n Graalin etsint\u00e4.\n Vaarallinen istuin.\n Kuinka Galahad tehtiin ritariksi.\n Ihmeit\u00e4, yh\u00e4 suurempia ihmeit\u00e4.\n Viimeiset turnajaiset.\n Galahad herran valkoinen kilpi.\n Kummallinen kultakruunu.\n Neitojen luona.\n N\u00e4ky mets\u00e4kappelissa.\n Lancelot herran katumus.\n Huone, jonka ovi oli suljettu.\n Kuinka Galahad herra n\u00e4ki Pyh\u00e4n Graalin.\nArthurin kuolema.\n Lancelot herran l\u00e4ht\u00f6.\n Gawaine herran kosto.\n L\u00e4nnen taistelu.\n Maailman jaloin ritari.\nMaloryn Morte d'Arthur.\nMaloryn Morte d'Arthurilla on englantilaisessa kirjallisuudessa\njotenkin samantapainen merkitys kuin Kalevalalla meid\u00e4n\nrunoudessamme. Senkin aineksena ovat vanhat kansanrunot ja sekin on\nollut maansa kirjallisuuden ja runollisen mielikuvituksen pohjana ja\nperustana.\nTarinat, joita Morte d'Arthurissa kerrotaan, ovat vanhoja. Jo\nkuudennella vuosisadalla Arthur kuningas esiintyy Englannin\nkelttil\u00e4isten kansantaruissa kansallissankarina, joka kerran viel\u00e4\non palaava, vapauttava sorretun kansansa ja kohottava sen taas\nmahtavuuteen. Aikojen kuluessa Arthurin ymp\u00e4rille sitten kutoutui ja\nkietoutui samaa juurta olevia, mutta alkuaan itsen\u00e4isi\u00e4 tarinoita\nmahtavasta Merlin tiet\u00e4j\u00e4st\u00e4, jalojen ritarien rohkeudesta,\nseikkailunhalusta, verisest\u00e4 vihasta ja vainosta. Yhdennell\u00e4toista\nvuosisadalla t\u00e4m\u00e4 kaunis, seikkailurikas tarusto levisi yli Kanaalin\nBretagnen kelttil\u00e4isten keskuuteen ja puhkesi siell\u00e4 perin eloisaan\nkukoistukseen, saaden vaikutuksia ja lis\u00e4piirteit\u00e4 ranskalaisesta\nrunoudesta. Siell\u00e4 siihen m.m. liittyy taru Py\u00f6re\u00e4n p\u00f6yd\u00e4n jalosta\nritaristosta Kaarle-sadussa esiintyvien kahdentoista p\u00e4\u00e4rin\nmukaan. Ennen pitk\u00e4\u00e4 se kietoi lumoihinsa seikkailuja rakastavien\nnormannilais-ranskalaistenkin mielen. N\u00e4m\u00e4 riistiv\u00e4t silt\u00e4 sen\nkansallisen omituisuuden, tekiv\u00e4t kelttil\u00e4isest\u00e4 kansallissankarista\nritarillisen ruhtinaan ihanteen ja h\u00e4nen uljaista asetovereistaan\n-- jotka pian ty\u00f6nt\u00e4v\u00e4t Arthurin varjoon -- t\u00e4ydellisen ritariuden\nesikuvia. Arthur-taru muuttui heid\u00e4n k\u00e4siss\u00e4\u00e4n ritaritaruksi. Niinp\u00e4\nhe ritarihengen mukaisesti soivat n\u00e4iss\u00e4 taruissa arvokkaan sijan\nlemmellekin, miehen ja naisen v\u00e4liselle intohimolle, joka oli ollut\naivan vieras kelttil\u00e4iselle runoudelle. Ja lopuksi Arthur tarustoon\nliittyy tuo salaper\u00e4inen tarina pyh\u00e4st\u00e4 Graalista -- astiasta,\njohon legendan mukaan Josef Arimatialainen kokosi ristiinnaulitun\nKristuksen veren -- jota Arthur ja h\u00e4nen ritarinsa pannaan etsim\u00e4\u00e4n.\nN\u00e4in lis\u00e4ttyin\u00e4 ja luonteeltaan muuteltuina n\u00e4m\u00e4 tarut kulkeutuivat\nEnglantiin takaisin, samalla kun ne levisiv\u00e4t yh\u00e4 laajemmalle\nmannermaalla, peitt\u00e4en lopulta koko l\u00e4ntisen Europan mielikuvituksen,\nkuin taaja h\u00e4m\u00e4h\u00e4kin seitti. Mutta kun ritarius jo oli raukeemassa,\nkokosi englantilainen Malory nuo loistavat eri piirteet yhteen\nja laati tuosta laajasta h\u00e4vi\u00e4v\u00e4st\u00e4 aineksesta vieh\u00e4tt\u00e4v\u00e4n\nproosakertoelman, jossa nuo loppumattomat, vaivoin luetut tarinat\nesiintyiv\u00e4t lyhennettyin\u00e4 soveliaaseen, helposti luettavaan kokoon,\nmuodostaen tenhoavan kuvauksen ajasta, joka kallistui iltaansa.\nSemmoisenaan siit\u00e4 tuli Englannin kirjallisuuden ja kirjakielen\nkulmakivi\u00e4. Se oli aikanaan englantilaisen proosakielen esikuvana.\nJa englantilaisille runoilijoille se on ollut aina meid\u00e4n p\u00e4iviimme\nasti ehtym\u00e4t\u00f6n runollisen innostuksen ja runollisten kuvien l\u00e4hde.\nJa viel\u00e4 enemm\u00e4n -- se on monien polvien kuluessa v\u00e4ritt\u00e4nyt\nkoko englantilaisen luonteen, ja siit\u00e4 saa osaltaan selityksens\u00e4\nenglantilainen seikkailunhalu ja ritarillisuuden rakkaus.\nMorte d'Arthurin julkaisi painosta v. 1485 kuuluisa kirjanpainaja\nja k\u00e4\u00e4nt\u00e4j\u00e4 William Caxton, mutta sen tekij\u00e4 on viime aikoihin asti\nollut lukemattomille lukijoilleen t\u00e4ysin tuntematon. Vasta uusimpien\ntutkimusten kautta on saatu selville, kenen kirjoittama on t\u00e4m\u00e4\nkuuluisa teos, jota pidet\u00e4\u00e4n etevimp\u00e4n\u00e4 Arthur-tarujen muodostelmana.\nNiist\u00e4 niukoista tiedoista, joita Maloryn el\u00e4m\u00e4st\u00e4 hartaat\ntutkimukset ovat tuoneet ilmoille, mainitsemme seuraavaa.\nThomas Malory, ritari, syntyi Newbold Revellin tilalla Warwickin\nkreivikunnassa Richard II:n hallituksen lopulla, viimeist\u00e4\u00e4n\nvuonna 1399. Nuo vanhat ritarirunot, joihin h\u00e4n jo aikaisin oli\nperinpohjin perehtynyt, saivat erinomaista el\u00e4vyytt\u00e4, kun Malory\nehti itse el\u00e4m\u00e4ss\u00e4 tutustumaan siihen ritariuteen, jota viel\u00e4\noli tavattavissa. H\u00e4n liittyi jo nuorena Richard Beauchampiin,\nWarwickin kreiviin, ja joutui siten l\u00e4heiseen suhteeseen mieheen,\njossa oli ruumiillistuneena se ritarillisuus, mink\u00e4 suuri ja pysyv\u00e4\nylist\u00e4j\u00e4 h\u00e4nest\u00e4 oli tuleva. Varmana voitaneen pit\u00e4\u00e4, ett\u00e4 t\u00e4m\u00e4\nh\u00e4nen nuoruudenaikansa suuri sotap\u00e4\u00e4llikk\u00f6 usein oli esikuvana h\u00e4nen\npiirt\u00e4ess\u00e4\u00e4n Lancelot herran ja noiden muiden tarunomaisten sankarien\nuljaita piirteit\u00e4.\nRichard Beauchampin kuoltua vuonna 1439 Maloryn suhteet h\u00e4nen\nperheeseens\u00e4 pysyiv\u00e4t yh\u00e4 katkeamattomina, sittenkin kun Warwickin\nkreivin arvonimi siirtyi Richard Nevillelle, joka oli nainut\nBeauchampin tytt\u00e4ren.\nVuoden 1433 paikkeilla Thomas Maloryn is\u00e4, John Malory, kuoli,\nj\u00e4tt\u00e4en perinn\u00f6ksi pojalleen laajat tiluksensa ja arvonimens\u00e4.\nVuoden 1444 ja 1445 parlamentissa Thomas Malory edusti Warwickin\nkreivikuntaa ja vuonna 1445 h\u00e4net ritaroitiin.\nSyttyi sitten pitk\u00e4llinen \"Ruusujen sota\", tuo Englannin historiassa\nniin surullisen maineen saanut kuningassuvun eri haarojen\ntaistelu kesken\u00e4\u00e4n, jossa York suku riisti kruunun hallitsevalta\nLancaster suvulta. T\u00e4ss\u00e4 taistelussa asettui Warwickin kreivi,\n\"Kuninkaantekij\u00e4\", Yorkin suvun puolelle, ollen sen vahvin tuki,\nja varmalta n\u00e4ytt\u00e4\u00e4, ett\u00e4 Malorykin oli t\u00e4m\u00e4n uskollisen yst\u00e4v\u00e4ns\u00e4\nliittolainen. H\u00e4nen mainitaankin esim. vuonna 1462 Edvard IV:n lipun\njohdolla marssineen lancasterilaisjoukkoja vastaan.\nMutta ennen pitk\u00e4\u00e4 Edvardin ja Warwickin kreivin v\u00e4lit rikkoutuivat.\nKuninkaasta k\u00e4vi \"Kuninkaantekij\u00e4n\" ies liian tukalaksi, ja h\u00e4n\npudisti sen niskoiltaan. Thomas Malory n\u00e4ytt\u00e4\u00e4 silloin pysyneen\n\"Kuninkaantekij\u00e4n\" puolella, sill\u00e4 h\u00e4net suljettiin muutamien muiden\nmuassa pois yleisest\u00e4 anteeksiannosta, jonka Edvard kuningas syksyll\u00e4\n1468 julisti. Kuinka h\u00e4nen t\u00e4m\u00e4n johdosta k\u00e4vi, ei varmuudella\ntiedet\u00e4, mutta hyvin luultavasti h\u00e4n joutui vankeuteen ja suljettiin\narvatenkin Towerin linnaan, jossa h\u00e4nen sanotaan kirjoittaneen\nosan ihailtavaa teostaan kuoleman varjojen h\u00e4nt\u00e4 piiritt\u00e4ess\u00e4.\nEp\u00e4ilem\u00e4tt\u00e4 h\u00e4n Tristram herran vankeutta kuvatessaan puhuukin omasta\nk\u00e4rsimyksest\u00e4\u00e4n, niin v\u00e4litt\u00f6m\u00e4n vaikuttavasti ja yksinkertaisesti\nh\u00e4n siit\u00e4 kertoo (kts. s. 174).\nLuultavasti Thomas Malory sai anteeksiannon ja laskettiin vapauteen\nsyksyll\u00e4 1469 yleisen anteeksiannon johdosta. T\u00e4m\u00e4n j\u00e4lkeen Malory\ntodenn\u00e4k\u00f6isesti pysyi erill\u00e4\u00e4n kaikista valtiollisista vehkeilyist\u00e4\n-- h\u00e4n olikin jo vanha mies. \"Kuninkaantekij\u00e4\" oli antautunut yh\u00e4\nenemm\u00e4n ja enemm\u00e4n itsekk\u00e4iden pyyteiden valtaan; kansalaissota\nkauhuineen oli taas uhkaamassa maata. Ei liene ep\u00e4ilemist\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n, ett\u00e4\nMalory nyt luopui Warwickin kreivist\u00e4, jonka uskollisena asetoverina\nh\u00e4n niin kauan oli ollut, ja siirtyi Edvardin kannattajien joukkoon.\nEl\u00e4m\u00e4ns\u00e4 loppuvuodet -- niit\u00e4 ei monta en\u00e4\u00e4 ollutkaan j\u00e4ljell\u00e4 --\nh\u00e4n vietti maatilallaan Newbold Revelliss\u00e4. Siell\u00e4 h\u00e4n sai valmiiksi\nkirjansa vuonna 1470 ja kuoli seuraavan vuoden maaliskuussa. H\u00e4net\nhaudattiin Harmaaveljesten kirkkoon, joka oli keskiaikaisen Lontoon\nkomeimpia kirkkoja, l\u00e4helle sit\u00e4 kentt\u00e4\u00e4, miss\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli ollut niin\nmonen vieh\u00e4tt\u00e4v\u00e4sti kuvaamansa ritarillisen ottelun todistajana ja\nmiss\u00e4 h\u00e4n muinoin itsekin oli peitsi tanassa kiit\u00e4nyt.\nSuomennoksessa esiintyv\u00e4t tarinat ovat k\u00e4\u00e4nnetyt, j\u00e4tt\u00e4m\u00e4ll\u00e4\npois pari tarinaa, Mary Macleodin laatimasta Morte d'Arthurin\nlyhennysmuodostelmasta. Suomennoksessa on pyritty, mik\u00e4li\nmahdollista, s\u00e4ilytt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n alkutekstin naiivista koruttomuutta ja\nyksinkertaista lauserakennusta.\nLukijaa oudostuttanee suomennoksessa k\u00e4ytetty sana \"tjostata\"\n[alku\u00e4\u00e4nteet luettava tj eik\u00e4 tsh]. Se on ritarillinen termi,\njoka Englannista keskiajalla levisi muuhun Europaan, ja merkitsee\nritarillista kaksintaistelua keih\u00e4ill\u00e4; sill\u00e4 on ep\u00e4ilem\u00e4tt\u00e4 yht\u00e4\nsuuri oikeus p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 kieleemme, kuin \"turnata\" sanalla, joka merkitsee\nritarillista joukkotaistelua.\nMorte d'Arthurin ensim\u00e4isen painoksen esipuheesta.\n\"T\u00e4ss\u00e4 saadaan n\u00e4hd\u00e4 ritarillista uljuutta ja kohteliaisuutta,\ninhimillist\u00e4 luontoa, lempeytt\u00e4, rohkeutta, rakkautta, yst\u00e4vyytt\u00e4,\nkonnuutta, murhaa, vihaa, hyvett\u00e4, synti\u00e4. Ota hyv\u00e4st\u00e4 esimerkki\u00e4\nja j\u00e4t\u00e4 paha, niin olet hyv\u00e4n nimen ja maineen saava... Kaikki on\nkirjoitettu meid\u00e4n oppimme hyv\u00e4ksi ja jotta kavahtaisimme lankeemasta\nsyntiin ja paheeseen, vaan harjoittaisimme ja noudattaisimme\nsit\u00e4 mik\u00e4 hyv\u00e4\u00e4 on, mink\u00e4 kautta me hyv\u00e4n nimen ja maineen t\u00e4ss\u00e4\nel\u00e4m\u00e4ss\u00e4 saavutamme, ja t\u00e4m\u00e4n lyhyen ja katoavaisen el\u00e4m\u00e4n j\u00e4lkeen\np\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4ksemme ikuiseen autuuteen taivaassa, mink\u00e4 H\u00e4n meille on\nluvannut, joka taivaassa hallitsee, pyh\u00e4 Kolminaisuus. Amen.\"\n_William Caxton_.\nARTHUR KUNINGAS\nMiekan ihme.\nKun Englannin kuningas Uther Pendragon kuoli, oli maa kauan aikaa\nsuuressa vaarassa, sill\u00e4 jokainen mahtava lordi kokosi joukkojaan,\nja moni halusi tulla kuninkaaksi. Sill\u00e4 Uther kuninkaan oma poika,\nArthur prinssi, jonka olisi pit\u00e4nyt h\u00e4nen sijaansa astua, oli viel\u00e4\nvain lapsi, ja Merlin, tuo mahtava tiet\u00e4j\u00e4, oli h\u00e4net piilottanut.\nKummallinen tapaus oli sattunut Arthurin syntyess\u00e4, ja n\u00e4in se\ntapahtui.\nV\u00e4h\u00e4n ennen Merlin oli tehnyt Uther kuninkaalle suuren palveluksen\nsill\u00e4 ehdolla, ett\u00e4 kuningas tekisi mit\u00e4 ikin\u00e4 h\u00e4n h\u00e4nelt\u00e4 pyyt\u00e4isi.\nKuningas vannoi juhlallisen valan niin tekev\u00e4ns\u00e4. Silloin Merlin\notti h\u00e4nelt\u00e4 lupauksen, ett\u00e4 kun h\u00e4nen lapsensa oli syntynyt, niin\nse annettaisiin Merlinille, jotta h\u00e4n kasvattaisi sit\u00e4 mielens\u00e4\nmukaan, sill\u00e4 se olisi lapsen omaksi parhaaksi. Kuningas oli\nantanut lupauksensa ja niin h\u00e4nen t\u00e4ytyi suostua. Silloin Merlin\nsanoi tuntevansa oikein uskollisen ja luotettavan miehen, yhden\nUther kuninkaan lordeista, Ector herran, jolla oli suuria tiluksia\nuseassa paikoin Englantia ja Walesia, ja h\u00e4nen hoitoonsa lapsi olisi\nannettava.\nSin\u00e4 y\u00f6n\u00e4, jona lapsi syntyi, Uther kuningas k\u00e4ski kahden ritarin\nja kahden hovinaisen ottaa sen, vaikka se viel\u00e4 oli kastamatta, ja\nk\u00e4\u00e4ri\u00e4 sen kultaisiin vaatteisiin ja antaa sen k\u00f6yh\u00e4lle ukolle,\njonka he tapaisivat odottamassa linnan takaportilla. Tuo k\u00f6yh\u00e4 ukko\noli valepukuinen Merlin, vaikka he eiv\u00e4t sit\u00e4 tiet\u00e4neet. Niin lapsi\nannettiin Merlinille, ja h\u00e4n vei sen Ector herralle ja antoi pyh\u00e4n\nmiehen kastaa sen ja nimitti sen Arthuriksi. Ja Ector herran vaimo\nrakasti sit\u00e4 kuin omaa lastansa.\nEi ollut kulunut kahta vuottakaan, kun Uther kuningas sairastui\nankaraan tautiin, ja kolme p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4 ja kolme y\u00f6t\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli puhumatonna.\nParoonit olivat suuresti suruissaan ja kysyiv\u00e4t Merlinilt\u00e4, mit\u00e4\nolisi paras tehd\u00e4.\n\"T\u00e4ss\u00e4 ei mik\u00e4\u00e4n l\u00e4\u00e4ke auta\", Merlin sanoi, \"Jumalan tahdon t\u00e4ytyy\ntapahtua. Mutta kuulkaa, paroonit, tulkaa huomenna kaikki Uther\nkuninkaan vuoteen \u00e4\u00e4reen, Jumala on antava h\u00e4nen puhua.\"\nNiin seuraavana p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 Merlin ja kaikki paroonit tulivat kuninkaan\nvuoteen \u00e4\u00e4reen, ja Merlin sanoi kovalla \u00e4\u00e4nell\u00e4 Uther kuninkaalle:\n\"Herra, onko sinun p\u00e4iviesi p\u00e4\u00e4tytty\u00e4 poikasi Arthur hallitseva t\u00e4t\u00e4\nvaltakuntaa ja kaikkea mit\u00e4 siihen kuuluu?\"\nSilloin Uther Pendragon k\u00e4\u00e4ntyi ja sanoi niin ett\u00e4 kaikki kuulivat:\n\"Min\u00e4 annan pojalleni Arthurille Jumalan siunauksen ja omani ja\npyyd\u00e4n h\u00e4nt\u00e4 rukoilemaan sieluni edest\u00e4 ja oikeuden mukaisesti ja\nkunniallisesti kantamaan kruunua, jott'ei h\u00e4n menett\u00e4isi siunaustani.\"\nJa sen sanottuaan Uther kuningas kuoli.\nMutta Arthur oli viel\u00e4 vain lapsi, ei kahdenkaan vuotias, ja Merlin\ntiesi ett'ei h\u00e4nen kuninkaaksi julistamisestaan olisi viel\u00e4 ollut\nmit\u00e4\u00e4n hy\u00f6ty\u00e4. Sill\u00e4 siihen aikaan oli Englannissa monta mahtavaa\nmiest\u00e4, jotka koettivat kaikki saada valtakunnan itselleen, ja he\nolisivat ehk\u00e4 tappaneetkin pikku prinssin. Niin oli maassa kauan\naikaa riitaa ja taistelua.\nKun useita vuosia oli kulunut, niin Merlin meni Canterburyn\narkkipiispan luo ja k\u00e4ski h\u00e4nt\u00e4 l\u00e4hett\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n sanan kaikille\nvaltakunnan lordeille ja aseellisille aatelismiehille, ett\u00e4 he\nkaikin tulisivat jouluksi Lontooseen, sill\u00e4 Jumala oli ihmeen kautta\nn\u00e4ytt\u00e4v\u00e4, kuka oikeutta my\u00f6den oli oleva valtakunnan kuningas. Niin\nkaikki lordit ja aatelismiehet valmistautuivat matkalle ja saapuivat\nLontooseen, ja pitk\u00e4n aikaa ennen joulup\u00e4iv\u00e4n valkenemista he\nkokoontuivat suureen pyh\u00e4n Paavalin kirkkoon rukoilemaan.\nEnsim\u00e4isen jumalanpalveluksen j\u00e4lkeen n\u00e4htiin kirkkopihassa iso\nneliskulmainen kivi, valkoinen kuin marmori, ja sen keskell\u00e4 oli\nik\u00e4\u00e4nkuin jalan korkuinen alasin ter\u00e4ksest\u00e4. Siihen oli pistettyn\u00e4\nkaunis paljastettu miekka ja kultakirjaimilla oli kirjoitettuna\nmiekkaan n\u00e4m\u00e4 sanat:\n_\"Kuka ikin\u00e4 vet\u00e4\u00e4 t\u00e4m\u00e4n miekan t\u00e4st\u00e4 kivest\u00e4 ja alasimesta, on\noikeutta my\u00f6den koko Englannin kuningas.\"_\nSilloin kaikki kansa ihmetteli ja kertoi sen arkkipiispalle.\nSilloin arkkipiispa sanoi:\n\"Min\u00e4 k\u00e4sken teit\u00e4 pysym\u00e4\u00e4n kirkossa ja rukoilemaan viel\u00e4 Jumalaa; ja\n\u00e4lk\u00f6\u00f6n kenk\u00e4\u00e4n koskeko miekkaan, ennenkuin jumalanpalvelus on ohitse.\"\nSitten kun kaikki rukoukset olivat kirkossa p\u00e4\u00e4ttyneet niin kaikki\nlordit meniv\u00e4t katsomaan kive\u00e4 ja miekkaa. Ja kun he lukivat\nkirjoituksen, niin monet heist\u00e4 -- ne, jotka tahtoivat tulla\nkuninkaaksi -- koettivat vet\u00e4ist\u00e4 miekkaa alasimesta. Mutta ei\nyksik\u00e4\u00e4n saanut sit\u00e4 liikahtamaan.\n\"Se mies ei ole t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4, joka on vet\u00e4v\u00e4 miekan kivest\u00e4\", arkkipiispa\nvirkkoi, \"mutta varmasti Jumala on tekev\u00e4 h\u00e4net tunnetuksi. Mutta\nasettakaamme siksi aikaa kymmenen urhoollista ritaria miekkaa\nvartioimaan.\"\nNiin tehtiinkin ja julistettiin, ett\u00e4 ken vain tahtoisi, saisi\nkoettaa tempaista miekkaa kivest\u00e4. Ja uuden vuoden p\u00e4iv\u00e4ksi paroonit\nm\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4siv\u00e4t suuret turnajaiset, joihin kaikki ritarit, jotka tahtoivat\ntjostata taikka turnailla, saisivat ottaa osaa. N\u00e4in m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4ttiin sen\nvuoksi, ett\u00e4 lordit ja alempi kansa olisivat pysyneet koolla, sill\u00e4\narkkipiispa uskoi varmasti, ett\u00e4 Jumala oli tekev\u00e4 tunnetuksi, ken\nmiekan oli voittava.\nKuinka Arthur kruunattiin kuninkaaksi.\nUuden vuoden p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 kirkonmenojen j\u00e4lkeen paroonit ratsastivat\nkent\u00e4lle, toiset tjostaamaan ja toiset turnailemaan, ja niin\ntapahtui, ett\u00e4 Ector herra, jolla oli laajoja maatiluksia l\u00e4hell\u00e4\nLontoota, my\u00f6skin tuli turnajaisiin. Ja h\u00e4nen mukanaan ratsasti h\u00e4nen\npoikansa Kay herra kasvatusveljens\u00e4 nuoren Arthurin kanssa.\nHeid\u00e4n ratsastaessaan Kay herra huomasi olevansa ilman miekkaa, sill\u00e4\nh\u00e4n oli j\u00e4tt\u00e4nyt sen is\u00e4ns\u00e4 asuntoon. Ja niin h\u00e4n pyysi Arthuria sit\u00e4\nhakemaan.\n\"Mielell\u00e4ni sen teen\", Arthur virkkoi, ja ratsasti pois t\u00e4ytt\u00e4 karkua.\nMutta kun h\u00e4n saapui taloon, h\u00e4n ei tavannut ket\u00e4\u00e4n, joka olisi\nantanut h\u00e4nelle miekan, sill\u00e4 kaikki olivat menneet katsomaan\nturnajaisia. Silloin Arthur suuttui ja sanoi itsekseen:\n\"Min\u00e4p\u00e4 ratsastan kirkkopihaan ja otan sen miekan, joka on kiveen\npistettyn\u00e4, sill\u00e4 veljeni Kay herra ei mitenk\u00e4\u00e4n saa t\u00e4n\u00e4p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 olla\nilman miekkaa.\"\nKun h\u00e4n saapui kirkkopihalle, niin h\u00e4n hypp\u00e4si alas ratsultaan ja\nsitoi sen pylv\u00e4\u00e4seen ja meni telttaan. Mutta h\u00e4n ei n\u00e4hnyt siell\u00e4\nainoatakaan ritaria miekkaa vartioimassa, sill\u00e4 he olivat menneet\nkaikki turnajaisiin. Ja Arthur tarttui miekan kahvaan, ja kiivaasti\ntempaisten h\u00e4n sen helposti vet\u00e4isi kivest\u00e4; ja sitten h\u00e4n hypp\u00e4si\nratsunsa selk\u00e4\u00e4n ja l\u00e4hti ratsastamaan mink\u00e4 enn\u00e4tti, kunnes saavutti\nveljens\u00e4 Kay herran, jolle h\u00e4n antoi miekan.\nHeti kuin Kay herra sen n\u00e4ki, niin h\u00e4n tunsi sen Ihmeellisen kiven\nmiekaksi, ja h\u00e4n ratsasti is\u00e4ns\u00e4 Ector herran luo ja sanoi:\n\"Herra, katsokaa, t\u00e4ss\u00e4 on Ihmeellisen kiven miekka, minusta t\u00e4ytyy\nsiis tulla tulla t\u00e4m\u00e4n maan kuningas.\"\nKun Ector herra n\u00e4ki miekan, niin h\u00e4n k\u00e4\u00e4nsi hevosensa ja ratsasti\nkirkolle, ja siell\u00e4 he kaikki kolme hypp\u00e4siv\u00e4t alas satulasta ja\nmeniv\u00e4t kirkkoon, ja Ector herra vannotti poikaansa todenmukaisesti\nkertomaan, kuinka h\u00e4n oli saanut miekan.\n\"Veljelt\u00e4ni Arthurilta\", Kay herra virkkoi, \"sill\u00e4 h\u00e4n sen minulle\ntoi.\"\n\"Kuinka sin\u00e4 sait t\u00e4m\u00e4n miekan?\" Ector herra sanoi Arthurille.\nJa poika kertoi h\u00e4nelle.\n\"Nyt ymm\u00e4rr\u00e4n\", Ector herra virkkoi, \"ett\u00e4 sinusta t\u00e4ytyy tulla t\u00e4m\u00e4n\nmaan kuningas.\"\n\"Mink\u00e4 t\u00e4hden minusta\", Arthur virkkoi, \"ja mist\u00e4 syyst\u00e4?\"\n\"Herra\", Ector sanoi, \"siit\u00e4 syyst\u00e4 ett\u00e4 Jumala niin tahtoo; sill\u00e4\ntuota miekkaa ei olisi saanut vedetyksi kivest\u00e4 kukaan muu, kuin se,\njoka oikeutta my\u00f6den on oleva kuningas. N\u00e4yt\u00e4p\u00e4 nyt, saatatko pist\u00e4\u00e4\nmiekan takaisin sinne miss\u00e4 se oli ja vet\u00e4\u00e4 sen j\u00e4lleen irti.\"\n\"Eip\u00e4 se ole vaikeata\", Arthur virkkoi, ja pisti miekan takaisin\nkiveen.\nSilloin Ector herra koetti vet\u00e4\u00e4 miekkaa, eik\u00e4 se onnistunut;\nja Kay herrakin veti sit\u00e4 kaikista voimistaan, mutta miekka ei\nliikahtanutkaan.\n\"Koetapa nyt sin\u00e4\", Ector herra sanoi Arthurille.\n\"Kas n\u00e4in\", Arthur sanoi ja vet\u00e4isi nopsasti miekan kivest\u00e4.\nSilloin Ector herra ja Kay herra polvistuivat maahan h\u00e4nen eteens\u00e4.\n\"Voi, minun oma rakas is\u00e4ni ja veljeni\", Arthur virkkoi, \"mink\u00e4\nt\u00e4hden te notkistatte minulle polvianne?\"\n\"Ei niin, ei niin, armollinen herrani Arthur, min\u00e4 en suinkaan ole\nteid\u00e4n is\u00e4nne, enk\u00e4 heimolaisennekaan. Mutta nyt n\u00e4en, ett\u00e4 te olette\nkorkeampaa sukua kuin luulinkaan.\"\nSilloin Ector herra kertoi h\u00e4nelle kaikki, kuinka h\u00e4n oli ottanut\nh\u00e4net kasvatikseen ja kenen k\u00e4skyst\u00e4 ja kuinka h\u00e4n oli saanut h\u00e4net\nMerlinilt\u00e4. Ja kun Arthur k\u00e4sitti, ett'ei Ector ollutkaan h\u00e4nen\nis\u00e4ns\u00e4, niin h\u00e4n k\u00e4vi kovin surulliseksi.\n\"Tahdotteko olla minun hyv\u00e4 ja armollinen hallitsijani, kun p\u00e4\u00e4sette\nkuninkaaksi?\" ritari kysyi.\n\"Tottapa tahdon, huonostipa muuten k\u00e4ytt\u00e4ytyisin\", Arthur sanoi,\n\"sill\u00e4 teilleh\u00e4n olen kaikkein suurimmassa kiitollisuuden velassa\nja hyv\u00e4lle \u00e4iti rouvalleni, teid\u00e4n vaimollenne, joka on minua\nkasvattanut ja hoitanut kuin omaa lastansa. Ja jos se on Jumalan\ntahto ett\u00e4 minusta tulee kuningas, niinkuin te sanotte, niin\nilmoittakaa minulle vain mit\u00e4 soisitte minun tekev\u00e4n, enk\u00e4 min\u00e4 ole\nteit\u00e4 pett\u00e4v\u00e4, Jumala varjelkoon ett\u00e4 teid\u00e4t pett\u00e4isin.\"\n\"Herra\", Ector sanoi, \"en pyyd\u00e4 teilt\u00e4 mit\u00e4\u00e4n muuta kuin ett\u00e4\nteette poikani, kasvattiveljenne Kay herran, kaikkien maittenne\nhovimestariksi.\"\n\"Niin on tapahtuva\", Arthur sanoi, \"ja kautta kunniani, kukaan muu ei\nole sit\u00e4 virkaa hoitava, niin kauan kuin h\u00e4n ja min\u00e4 olemme elossa.\"\nSitten he meniv\u00e4t arkkipiispan luo ja kertoivat h\u00e4nelle, kuinka\nmiekka oli saatu ja kuka sen oli vet\u00e4nyt kivest\u00e4.\nLoppiaisena kaikki paroonit kokoontuivat kirkkopihaan kiven\nymp\u00e4rille, niin ett\u00e4 jokainen joka tahtoi, olisi saanut koettaa\nvet\u00e4\u00e4 miekkaa. Mutta ei kukaan muu heist\u00e4 kaikista kuin Arthur\nsaanut miekkaa irti kivest\u00e4. Silloin useat heist\u00e4 kovin suuttuivat\nja sanoivat, ett\u00e4 olisi suuri h\u00e4pe\u00e4 heille ja koko maalle, jos\njoutuisivat alhaissukuisen pojan hallittaviksi, sill\u00e4 viel\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n ei\nkukaan heist\u00e4 tiet\u00e4nyt, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli kuningas Uther Pendragonin\npoika. Niin he p\u00e4\u00e4ttiv\u00e4t j\u00e4tt\u00e4\u00e4 asian ratkaisun kynttil\u00e4np\u00e4iv\u00e4ksi,\njoka on toisena p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 helmikuuta.\nMutta kun kynttil\u00e4np\u00e4iv\u00e4 tuli ja Arthur yh\u00e4 viel\u00e4kin oli ainoa, joka\nsaattoi vet\u00e4\u00e4 miekan kivest\u00e4, niin he lykk\u00e4siv\u00e4t sen p\u00e4\u00e4si\u00e4iseksi.\nJa kun p\u00e4\u00e4si\u00e4inen tuli, ja Arthur taas voitti heid\u00e4t kaikki, niin he\nlykk\u00e4siv\u00e4t sen helluntaiksi.\nSilloin arkkipiispa kutsui Merlinin neuvosta kokoon muutamia\nparhaimpia ritareita, joita oli saatavissa -- sellaisia ritareita,\njoista kuningas Uther Pendragon el\u00e4ess\u00e4\u00e4n oli enin pit\u00e4nyt ja joihin\nh\u00e4n oli enin luottanut -- ja n\u00e4m\u00e4 m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4ttiin vartioimaan nuorta\nArthuria y\u00f6t\u00e4 ja p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4 ja kiellettiin hetkeksik\u00e4\u00e4n j\u00e4tt\u00e4m\u00e4st\u00e4 h\u00e4nt\u00e4\nyksiksens\u00e4, kunnes helluntaijuhla oli tullut.\nKun tuo suuri p\u00e4iv\u00e4 tuli, niin kaikellaiset miehet yrittiv\u00e4t viel\u00e4\nkerran vet\u00e4\u00e4 miekkaa kivest\u00e4, mutta kenellek\u00e4\u00e4n muulle se ei\nonnistunut kuin Arthurille. Kaikkien sinne kokoontuneiden lordien ja\nkaiken kansan edess\u00e4 h\u00e4n tempaisi miekan kivest\u00e4, ja silloin kaikki\nkansa huusi yhdest\u00e4 suusta:\n\"Me tahdomme Arthurin kuninkaaksemme! Me emme salli ett\u00e4 h\u00e4nt\u00e4 en\u00e4\u00e4\nestet\u00e4\u00e4n, sill\u00e4 me n\u00e4emme kaikki, ett\u00e4 se on Jumalan tahto, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n\non oleva meid\u00e4n kuninkaamme, ja joka sit\u00e4 vastustaa, sen me ly\u00f6mme\nkuoliaaksi.\"\nJa sen sanottuaan he kaikki polvistuivat yht\u00e4 aikaa, sek\u00e4 rikkaat\nett\u00e4 k\u00f6yh\u00e4t, ja pyysiv\u00e4t anteeksi Arthurilta, ett\u00e4 olivat antaneet\nh\u00e4nen odottaa niin kauan.\nJa Arthur antoi heille anteeksi ja tarttui miekkaan molemmin k\u00e4sin\nja laski sen alttarille, jonka vieress\u00e4 arkkipiispa seisoi, ja niin\nparas siell\u00e4 olevista miehist\u00e4 teki h\u00e4net ritariksi.\nSitten h\u00e4n heti kruunattiin, ja h\u00e4n vannoi lordeillensa ja\nkansallensa, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n olisi oikeutta harrastava kuningas ja\nhallitsisi oikein ja tunnollisesti siit\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4st\u00e4 l\u00e4htien ja niin\nkauan kuin h\u00e4n el\u00e4isi.\nLujan linnan piiritys.\nSenj\u00e4lkeen kun Arthur oli kruunattu kuninkaaksi, tehtiin h\u00e4nelle\nuseita valituksia monesta suuresta v\u00e4\u00e4ryydest\u00e4, joita oli tehty\nmaassa Uther kuninkaan kuoleman j\u00e4lkeen. Monelta lordilta, ritarilta,\naatelisrouvalta ja aatelismiehelt\u00e4 oli riistetty heid\u00e4n maansa.\nSilloin Arthur m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4si, ett\u00e4 maat olivat annettavat takaisin niille,\njoiden omat ne olivat olleet. Ja kun se oli tehty ja kaikkien Lontoon\nymp\u00e4rill\u00e4 olevien alueiden asiat olivat j\u00e4rjestetyt, niin Arthur\nteki Kay herran Englannin hovimestariksi, Baldwin herran Britannian\nkonnetaabeliksi ja Ulfius herran kamariherraksi; ja Brastias herra\nm\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4ttiin Trentin pohjoispuolella olevien maiden hoitajaksi. Suurin\nosa sit\u00e4 seutua oli silloin kuninkaan vihollisten hallussa, mutta\nmuutamassa vuodessa Arthur sai koko pohjoisosan maata valloitetuksi.\nMuutamat osat Walesia vastustivat h\u00e4nt\u00e4 viel\u00e4, mutta aikanansa\nh\u00e4n voitti ne kaikki, niinkuin h\u00e4n oli voittanut muutkin, jalolla\nmiehuudellaan ja Py\u00f6re\u00e4n p\u00f6yd\u00e4n ritarien uljuudella.\nSitten Arthur kuningas meni Walesiin ja kuulutti suuren juhlan\nhelluntaiksi sen j\u00e4lkeen kun h\u00e4net oli kruunattu Carleonin\nkaupungissa. Siihen juhlaan tuli monta rikasta ja mahtavaa kuningasta\nsuurine ritariseurueineen. Arthur iloitsi heid\u00e4n tulostaan, sill\u00e4\nh\u00e4n luuli, ett\u00e4 kuninkaat ja ritarit olivat tulleet yst\u00e4vyydess\u00e4 ja\nkunnioittaakseen h\u00e4nt\u00e4 h\u00e4nen juhlassaan, ja sent\u00e4hden h\u00e4n iloitsi\nsuuresti ja l\u00e4hetti heille runsaita lahjoja.\nMutta kuninkaat eiv\u00e4t tahtoneet ottaa niit\u00e4 vastaan, vaan pieksiv\u00e4t\nh\u00e4pe\u00e4llisesti l\u00e4hettil\u00e4it\u00e4 ja sanoivat, ett'ei heit\u00e4 haluttanut\nottaa vastaan lahjoja parrattomalta pojalta, joka viel\u00e4 lis\u00e4ksi oli\nalhaista sukua. He l\u00e4hettiv\u00e4t h\u00e4nelle sanan, ett'eiv\u00e4t he huoli\nh\u00e4nen lahjoistansa, mutta ett\u00e4 he tulevat ja antavat h\u00e4nelle lahjoja\nter\u00e4v\u00e4ll\u00e4 miekalla niskan ja hartioitten v\u00e4liin. Sen vuoksi he olivat\nsinne saapuneet, sill\u00e4 h\u00e4pe\u00e4llist\u00e4 oli heid\u00e4n sallia tuollaisen pojan\nhallita niin jaloa valtakuntaa.\nKun sanansaattajat olivat tuoneet t\u00e4m\u00e4n vastauksen Arthur\nkuninkaalle, niin parooniensa neuvosta h\u00e4n sulkeutui viidensadan\nurhean miehen kanssa lujaan linnaan. Ja kaikki kuninkaat alkoivat\npiiritt\u00e4\u00e4 h\u00e4nt\u00e4, mutta Arthur kuninkaalla oli yllinkyllin ruokavaroja.\nEnnenkuin kaksi viikkoa oli kulunut, niin Merlin, tuo suuri tiet\u00e4j\u00e4,\ntuli Carleonin kaupunkiin. Kuninkaat ihastuivat suuresti, kun h\u00e4nen\nn\u00e4kiv\u00e4t, ja kysyiv\u00e4t h\u00e4nelt\u00e4:\n\"Mink\u00e4 t\u00e4hden tuo Arthur poika on tehty meid\u00e4n kuninkaaksemme?\"\n\"Herrat\", Merlin sanoi, \"h\u00e4n on tehty kuninkaaksemme sent\u00e4hden,\nett\u00e4 h\u00e4n on kuningas Uther Pendragonin poika. Ja sanokoon 'ei' kuka\nhyv\u00e4ns\u00e4, niin Arthur on sittenkin oleva kuningas ja voittava kaikki\nvihollisensa, ja ennenkuin h\u00e4n kuolee, niin h\u00e4n on kauan aikaa\nollut koko Englannin kuninkaana ja hallinnut Walesia, Irlantia ja\nSkotlantia ja useampaa valtakuntaa, kuin min\u00e4 nyt tahdon mainita.\"\nMuutamat kuninkaista ihmetteliv\u00e4t Merlinin sanoja ja uskoivat, ett\u00e4\nniin k\u00e4visi kuin h\u00e4n sanoi; ja muutamat, kuten Orkneyn kuningas Lot,\nnauroivat h\u00e4nelle, ja toiset taas kutsuivat h\u00e4nt\u00e4 velhoksi. Mutta\nhe kaikki olivat sit\u00e4 mielt\u00e4, ett\u00e4 Arthur kuninkaan pit\u00e4isi tulla\nkeskustelemaan heid\u00e4n kanssaan, ja he vakuuttivat, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n saisi\nturvallisesti tulla ja menn\u00e4.\nNiin Merlin meni Arthur kuninkaan luo ja kertoi h\u00e4nelle mit\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli\ntehnyt ja sanoi, ett'ei h\u00e4nen pit\u00e4isi pel\u00e4t\u00e4, vaan tulla rohkeasti ja\npuhua heid\u00e4n kanssaan.\n\"\u00c4lk\u00e4\u00e4 heit\u00e4 s\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4k\u00f6\", h\u00e4n sanoi, \"vaan vastatkaa heille niinkuin\nheid\u00e4n kuninkaansa ja p\u00e4\u00e4miehens\u00e4 tulee, sill\u00e4 te olette voittava\nheid\u00e4t kaikki, joko he sitten tahtovat taikka eiv\u00e4t.\"\nSilloin Arthur kuningas tuli ulos linnastaan, ja h\u00e4nell\u00e4 oli kaapunsa\nalla panssaripaita kaksinkertaisesta ter\u00e4ksest\u00e4. Ja h\u00e4nen kanssaan\nkulki Canterburyn arkkipiispa ja Baldwin herra, Kay herra ja Brastias\nherra. Kun h\u00e4n kohtasi kuninkaat, niin ei silloin h\u00e4ik\u00e4ilty, vaan\nlausuttiin molemmin puolin voimakkaita sanoja, ja Arthur kuninkaalla\noli valmiina vastaus kaikkeen mit\u00e4 he sanoivat, ja h\u00e4n lausui,\nett\u00e4 jos h\u00e4n vain saa el\u00e4\u00e4, niin kyll\u00e4 h\u00e4n viel\u00e4 taivuttaa heid\u00e4n\nniskansa. Kuninkaat l\u00e4htiv\u00e4t sent\u00e4hden raivoissaan pois, ja Arthur\nkuningas palasi linnaansa ja asesti itsens\u00e4 ja kaikki soturinsa.\n\"Mit\u00e4 aiotte tehd\u00e4?\" Merlin sanoi kuninkaille; \"parempi olisi teille,\nett\u00e4 malttaisitte mielenne, sill\u00e4 ette te t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 p\u00e4\u00e4se voitolle,\nvaikka teit\u00e4 olisi kymmenen kertaa enemm\u00e4n.\"\n\"Pit\u00e4isik\u00f6 meid\u00e4n pel\u00e4sty\u00e4 untenselitt\u00e4j\u00e4n puheista\", ilkkui Lot\nkuningas.\nSilloin Merlin katosi ja tuli Arthur kuninkaan luo ja k\u00e4ski h\u00e4nen\nahdistaa heit\u00e4 ankarasti. Ja tiet\u00e4j\u00e4 neuvoi Arthuria ja sanoi, ett'ei\nh\u00e4nen heti alussa pit\u00e4isi k\u00e4ytt\u00e4\u00e4 miekkaansa, jonka h\u00e4n oli saanut\nihmeen kautta; vaan vasta sitten kun h\u00e4n n\u00e4kisi olevansa suuressa\nvaarassa, h\u00e4n saisi paljastaa miekan ja tehd\u00e4 parastansa.\nMutta sill\u00e4 v\u00e4lin kolmesataa parasta miest\u00e4, jotka olivat kuninkaiden\nmukana, meniv\u00e4t Arthurin puolelle, ja se oli h\u00e4nelle suureksi\nlohdutukseksi. Kaikki h\u00e4nen soturinsa taistelivat uljaasti, ja\ntaistelu raivosi kauheasti. Arthur kuningas itse oli aina etumaisena\ntungoksessa, mutta viimein h\u00e4nen ratsunsa ly\u00f6tiin kuoliaaksi h\u00e4nen\naltaan. Ja samassa Lot kuningas paiskasi Arthur kuninkaan maahan.\nMutta nelj\u00e4 Arthurin ritaria riensi apuun ja asetti h\u00e4net taas\nratsun selk\u00e4\u00e4n. Ja silloin h\u00e4n paljasti miekkansa, ja se hohti niin\nh\u00e4nen vihollistensa silmiss\u00e4, ett\u00e4 se paistoi kuin nelj\u00e4kymment\u00e4\ntulisoihtua. Ja sill\u00e4 tapaa h\u00e4n karkoitti vihollisensa ja l\u00f6i monta\nheist\u00e4.\nSilloin Carleonin asukkaat nousivat taisteluun, aseinaan nuijia ja\nkivi\u00e4, ja he kaatoivat monta ritaria. Mutta kuninkaat liittyiv\u00e4t\nniihin ritareihinsa, jotka viel\u00e4 olivat elossa, ja pakenivat.\nJa Merlin tuli Arthurin luo ja kielsi h\u00e4nen heit\u00e4 enemp\u00e4\u00e4\nahdistamasta.\nKuninkaiden taistelu.\nJuhlan ja turnajaisten j\u00e4lkeen Arthur tuli Lontooseen ja kutsui\nkaikki parooninsa neuvotteluun. Sill\u00e4 Merlin oli kertonut h\u00e4nelle,\nett\u00e4 nuo kuusi kuningasta, jotka olivat sotineet h\u00e4nt\u00e4 vastaan ja\njotka h\u00e4n oli tuhonnut, eiv\u00e4t vitkastelisi kostaakseen h\u00e4nelle ja\nh\u00e4nen maalleen. Paroonit eiv\u00e4t osanneet antaa mit\u00e4\u00e4n neuvoa, vaan\nsanoivat ett\u00e4 he olivat kylliksi voimakkaita taistelemaan.\n\"Hyvin puhuttu\", Arthur sanoi, \"min\u00e4 kiit\u00e4n teit\u00e4 rohkeudestanne;\nmutta tahtovatko teist\u00e4 kaikki ne, jotka minua rakastavat, kuulla\nMerlinin sanoja. Tied\u00e4tteh\u00e4n, mit\u00e4 kaikkea h\u00e4n on tehnyt minun\nhyv\u00e4kseni ja ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n tiet\u00e4\u00e4 paljon asioita, ja kun tapaatte h\u00e4net,\nniin toivon ett\u00e4 pyyd\u00e4tte h\u00e4nen antamaan teille kaikkein parhaimman\nneuvonsa.\"\nKaikki paroonit sanoivat, ett\u00e4 he mielell\u00e4\u00e4n kuulisivat Merlinin\nneuvoja, ja niin l\u00e4hetettiin h\u00e4nt\u00e4 hakemaan.\n\"Varoitan teit\u00e4 ajoissa\", Merlin virkkoi, \"koska teid\u00e4n vihollistenne\nvoimat ovat enentyneet ja he ovat niin taitavia sotureita kuin\nsuinkin saattaa olla. He ovat nyt saaneet puolelleen viel\u00e4 nelj\u00e4\nkuningasta ja mahtavan herttuan, ja joll'ei meid\u00e4n kuninkaamme saa\nenemm\u00e4n ratsumiehi\u00e4, kuin on saatavissa h\u00e4nen oman valtakuntansa\nrajojen sis\u00e4puolelta, niin h\u00e4net voitetaan ja ly\u00f6d\u00e4\u00e4n, jos h\u00e4n ryhtyy\ntaisteluun.\"\n\"Mit\u00e4 on teht\u00e4v\u00e4?\", paroonit kysyiv\u00e4t.\n\"Ilmoitan teille neuvoni\", Merlin virkkoi. \"Meren tuolla puolen\non kaksi veljest\u00e4, ja he ovat molemmat kuninkaita ja ihmeellisen\nvoimallisia miehi\u00e4. Toinen on Benwickin kuningas, Ban nimelt\u00e4\u00e4n,\nja toinen Gaulin, se on Ranskan, kuningas Bors. Ja n\u00e4it\u00e4 veljeksi\u00e4\nvastaan sotii mahtava mies, Claudas kuningas, ja taistelee heid\u00e4n\nkanssaan er\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 linnasta, ja ankara on viha ja vaino heid\u00e4n\nv\u00e4lill\u00e4\u00e4n. Mutta kun Claudas on sangen rikas, niin h\u00e4n voi hankkia\nmonia taitavia ritareita taistelemaan puolestansa, ja enimm\u00e4kseen h\u00e4n\npit\u00e4\u00e4 noita molempia kuninkaita varsin ahtaalla. T\u00e4m\u00e4 on nyt minun\nneuvoni: ett\u00e4 meid\u00e4n kuninkaamme ja hallitsijamme l\u00e4hett\u00e4\u00e4 Ban ja\nBors kuninkaille kahden luotettavan ritarin mukana kirjeet, joissa\nh\u00e4n ilmoittaa, ett\u00e4 jos he tahtovat tulla katsomaan Arthuria ja h\u00e4nen\nhoviansa ja auttaa h\u00e4nt\u00e4 h\u00e4nen sodissaan, niin h\u00e4n vannoo auttavansa\nheit\u00e4 heid\u00e4n sodissaan Claudas kuningasta vastaan. No, mit\u00e4 te nyt\najattelette t\u00e4st\u00e4 neuvosta?\"\n\"Se on hyv\u00e4 neuvo\", sanoivat kuningas ja paroonit.\nJa niin asia p\u00e4\u00e4tettiin kaikessa kiireess\u00e4.\nUlfius ja Brastias valittiin sanansaattajiksi, ja he l\u00e4htiv\u00e4t matkaan\nhyvin asestettuina ja uljaitten ratsujen sel\u00e4ss\u00e4. Ja niin he kulkivat\nyli meren ja ratsastivat kohden Benwickin kaupunkia. Silloin er\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4\nkapeassa paikassa yksitoista Claudas kuninkaan ritaria karkasi\nheid\u00e4n p\u00e4\u00e4llens\u00e4 ja koetti tappaa heid\u00e4t tai ottaa heid\u00e4t vangiksi.\nMutta Ulfius ja Brastias taistelivat heid\u00e4n kanssaan kaksitellen ja\nvoittivat heid\u00e4t kaikki toisen toisensa j\u00e4lkeen ja j\u00e4ttiv\u00e4t heid\u00e4t\npahoin kolhittuina ja ruhjottuina maahan makaamaan.\nKun he saapuivat Benwickiin, niin sattui niin onnellisesti, ett\u00e4\nmolemmat kuninkaat, Ban ja Bors, olivat siell\u00e4. Heti kun kuninkaat\nkuulivat, ett\u00e4 he olivat Arthurin sanansaattajia, niin n\u00e4m\u00e4t ottivat\nheid\u00e4t mit\u00e4 syd\u00e4mellisimmin vastaan, ja kun Ban ja Bors lukivat\nkirjeet, niin sanansaattajat tulivat viel\u00e4kin tervetulleemmiksi.\nNiin Ulfiusta ja Brastiasta kestitettiin hyvin ja heille annettiin\nkallisarvoisia lahjoja niin paljon kuin jaksoivat kantaa, ja he\nsaivat mukaansa sen vastauksen, ett\u00e4 molemmat kuninkaat tulisivat\nArthurin luokse niin kiireesti kuin suinkin saattoivat.\nArthur kuningas riemastui suuresti saadessaan t\u00e4m\u00e4n sanoman, ja kun\naika tuli kuninkaiden saapua, niin h\u00e4n kuulutti suuren juhlan ja\nmeni kymmenen penikulmaa Lontoon ulkopuolelle heit\u00e4 vastaan. Juhlan\nj\u00e4lkeen pidettiin komeat turnajaiset, joihin otti osaa seitsem\u00e4n\nsataa ritaria. Arthur, Ban ja Bors istuivat Canterburyn arkkipiispan\nja Ector herran (K\u00e4yn is\u00e4n) keralla kultakankaalla verhotussa\nkatoksessa ladyen ja aatelisnaisten keralla, n\u00e4hd\u00e4kseen ketk\u00e4\ntaistelivat parhaiten ja antaakseen arvostelunsa. Ne ritarit, jotka\nvoittivat palkintoja, olivat Arthur kuninkaan hoviin kuuluvat Kay\nherra, Lucas herra ja Griflet herra.\nBan ja Bors kuninkaiden avulla Arthur uudestaan voitti ja karkoitti\nnuo yksitoista kuningasta, jotka sotivat h\u00e4nt\u00e4 vastaan. Ja kun h\u00e4nen\nvihollisensa olivat ly\u00f6dyt, niin Ban ja Bors kuninkaat palasivat\nomille mailleen mukanaan kalliita lahjoja. Ja he tekiv\u00e4t Arthurin\nkanssa sellaisen sopimuksen, ett\u00e4 jos he tarvitsisivat h\u00e4nen apuaan\nClaudas kuningasta vastaan, niin he l\u00e4hett\u00e4isiv\u00e4t h\u00e4nt\u00e4 hakemaan, ja\njos taas Arthur heit\u00e4 tarvitsisi, niin tulisi h\u00e4nen vain l\u00e4hett\u00e4\u00e4\nheille sana, eiv\u00e4tk\u00e4 he vitkastelisi.\nTurmion ennustus.\nBan ja Bors kuninkaiden l\u00e4hdetty\u00e4 Arthur ratsasti Carleoniin. Sill\u00e4\nsinne oli l\u00e4hett\u00e4nyt puolisonsa Orkneyn kuningas Lot, yksi niist\u00e4\nkuninkaista, jotka olivat sotineet h\u00e4nt\u00e4 vastaan. Kuningatar tuli\nsuurella komeudella ja loistolla l\u00e4hettil\u00e4\u00e4n tavoin, mutta itse\nasiassa h\u00e4nen tarkoituksensa oli urkkia Arthurin hovia. H\u00e4nen\nmukanaan olivat h\u00e4nen nelj\u00e4 poikaansa, Gawaine, Gaheris, Agrivaine ja\nGareth, ja monta muuta ritaria ja lady\u00e4. Vaikka h\u00e4n oli hyvin ilke\u00e4\nja kavala, niin h\u00e4n oli sent\u00e4\u00e4n mit\u00e4 ihanin nainen, ja sent\u00e4hden\nh\u00e4n kokonaan voitti Arthur kuninkaan syd\u00e4men. Arthur ei tiet\u00e4nyt,\nett\u00e4 tuo kuningatar itse asiassa oli h\u00e4nen oma sisarpuolensa,\nh\u00e4nen \u00e4itins\u00e4 Igrainen tyt\u00e4r, sill\u00e4 Igraine oli ennen naimistaan\nUther Pendragonin kanssa ollut er\u00e4\u00e4n mahtavan Cornwallin herttuan\npuolisona. Toinen tyt\u00e4r oli Morgan le Fay, joka oli my\u00f6skin\n\u00e4\u00e4rett\u00f6m\u00e4n ihana ja ilke\u00e4 sek\u00e4 sangen taitava noitakeinoissa.\nLot kuninkaan puoliso viipyi kuukauden Carleonissa ja l\u00e4hti sitten\npois, ja h\u00e4nen menty\u00e4\u00e4n Arthur kuningas n\u00e4ki ihmeellisen unen, joka\nt\u00e4ytti h\u00e4nen mielens\u00e4 suurella pelolla. H\u00e4n n\u00e4ki unta, ett\u00e4 maahan\ntuli korppikotkia ja k\u00e4\u00e4rmeit\u00e4; ja ett\u00e4 ne tappoivat ja h\u00e4vittiv\u00e4t\nkaiken kansan, ja sitten h\u00e4n taisteli niit\u00e4 vastaan ja ne tekiv\u00e4t\nh\u00e4nelle paljon pahaa ja haavoittivat h\u00e4net vaikeasti, mutta viimein\nh\u00e4n ne surmasi.\nKun kuningas her\u00e4si, niin h\u00e4n oli sangen surullisella mielell\u00e4 unensa\njohdosta, ja p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4kseen ajatuksistaan h\u00e4n l\u00e4hti useiden ritariensa\nkera mets\u00e4st\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n. Heti mets\u00e4\u00e4n saavuttuaan n\u00e4ki kuningas edess\u00e4\u00e4n\nison hirven ja h\u00e4n ajoi sit\u00e4 takaa niin kiivaasti, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4nen\nratsuparkansa vaipui n\u00e4\u00e4ntyneen\u00e4 maahan.\nKun kuningas istui odottamassa toista hevosta, jota muuan h\u00e4nen\nmiehist\u00e4\u00e4n oli hakemassa, tuli Merlin h\u00e4nen luokseen nelj\u00e4ntoista\nvuotiaan pojan muodossa ja tervehtien kuningasta kysyi, miksi h\u00e4n oli\nniin mietteiss\u00e4\u00e4n. Arthur vastasi, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4nell\u00e4 oli kyll\u00e4 syyt\u00e4 olla\nalakuloinen, ja silloin Merlin saattoi h\u00e4net aivan h\u00e4mm\u00e4styksiins\u00e4,\nkun h\u00e4n tiesi kaikki h\u00e4nen ajatuksensa ja kertoi kuka h\u00e4n oli\nja kaikki mik\u00e4 h\u00e4nt\u00e4 koski. Sitten Merlin katosi ja palasi taas\nkahdeksankymmenen vuotiaan ukon haahmossa, ja siin\u00e4 valepuvussa h\u00e4n\ntaas kysyi kuninkaalta, miksi h\u00e4n oli niin surullinen.\n\"Syyt\u00e4 on kyll\u00e4 ollakseni surullinen\", Arthur virkkoi.\nJa h\u00e4n kertoi vanhukselle unensa ja kuinka tuo kummallinen poika\noli juuri ollut h\u00e4nen luonaan ja kertonut h\u00e4nelle h\u00e4nen is\u00e4st\u00e4\u00e4n\nja \u00e4idist\u00e4\u00e4n ja ilmoittanut asioita, joista ei h\u00e4nell\u00e4 ollut\naavistustakaan. Silloin Merlin sanoi ett\u00e4 kaikki, mit\u00e4 lapsi oli\nh\u00e4nelle puhunut, oli aivan totta. Ja ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli tullut sanomaan,\nett\u00e4 tulevina vuosina moni onnettomuus oli kohtaava maata, sill\u00e4 Lot\nkuninkaan vaimo oli synnytt\u00e4v\u00e4 lapsen, joka koettaisi tuhota Arthurin\nja kaikki h\u00e4nen ritarinsa.\n\"Ken olet sin\u00e4\", kysyi Arthur, \"joka kerrot minulle t\u00e4llaisia\nuutisia?\"\n\"Min\u00e4 olen Merlin\", sanoi tiet\u00e4j\u00e4, \"ja min\u00e4 olin sekin, joka oli\nt\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 pojan muodossa.\"\n\"Ah\", virkkoi Arthur kuningas, \"tep\u00e4 olette ihmeellinen mies, mutta\nmin\u00e4 ihmettelen suuresti teid\u00e4n sanojanne, ett\u00e4 minun t\u00e4ytyy kuolla\ntaistelussa.\"\n\"\u00c4lk\u00e4\u00e4 ihmetelk\u00f6\", Merlin virkkoi, \"sill\u00e4 se on Jumalan tahto, h\u00e4n\nrankaisee teit\u00e4 niiden pahojen tekojen t\u00e4hden, joita on tehty maan\np\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4. Mutta min\u00e4 saattaisin murehtia\", vanhus lis\u00e4si, \"sill\u00e4 minun\nt\u00e4ytyy kuolla h\u00e4pe\u00e4llinen kuolema -- minut pistet\u00e4\u00e4n el\u00e4v\u00e4n\u00e4 maan\nsis\u00e4\u00e4n, mutta sin\u00e4 saat kuolla kunniallisen kuoleman.\"\nKun he siten pakinoivat, tuotiin kuninkaan hevonen ja Arthur nousi\nsatulaan, ja Merlin astui toisen hevosen selk\u00e4\u00e4n ja he ratsastivat\nCarleoniin.\nSe mit\u00e4 Merlin ennusti omasta kuolemastaan, k\u00e4vi todellakin toteen.\nMuutamia vuosia my\u00f6hemmin tuo suuri tiet\u00e4j\u00e4 rakastui er\u00e4\u00e4seen\nhovineitoon nimelt\u00e4 Nimue, tai kuten muutamat h\u00e4nt\u00e4 kutsuivat\n\"Vivien\", joka oli tuntevinaan vastarakkautta Merlini\u00e4 kohtaan,\nkunnes oli oppinut kaikki ne asiat, joita h\u00e4n halusi tiet\u00e4\u00e4. Merlin\nopetti h\u00e4nelle kaikki loihdut ja noitakeinot, niin ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n saattoi\nitsekin noitua. Mutta Merlin hullaantui niin rakkaudessaan, ett'ei\nh\u00e4n tahtonut hetkeksik\u00e4\u00e4n laskea Nimueta n\u00e4kyvist\u00e4\u00e4n, ja tuo lady\nlopuksi aivan v\u00e4syi h\u00e4nen hellyyteens\u00e4 ja tahtoi p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 vapaaksi\nh\u00e4nest\u00e4. H\u00e4n pelk\u00e4si Merlini\u00e4 senvuoksi, ett\u00e4 t\u00e4m\u00e4 oli tiet\u00e4j\u00e4, eik\u00e4\nh\u00e4n keksinyt mit\u00e4\u00e4n keinoa, jolla olisi p\u00e4\u00e4ssyt h\u00e4nest\u00e4 eroon.\nViimein tapahtui ett\u00e4 Merlin kerran n\u00e4ytti h\u00e4nelle ihmeellisen\nkallion, jonka edess\u00e4 oli suuri kivi, jota saattoi taikakeinoilla\nliikuttaa. Silloin Nimue kavalasti houkutteli Merlinin astumaan\nkallion sis\u00e4\u00e4n, saadakseen muka tiet\u00e4\u00e4 mit\u00e4 kaikkia ihmeit\u00e4 siell\u00e4\noli. Mutta kun Merlin oli kallion sis\u00e4ss\u00e4, niin h\u00e4n noitui kiven\npaikoilleen niill\u00e4 loihduilla, joita Merlin oli h\u00e4nelle opettanut, ja\nkaikista taikakeinoistaan huolimatta Merlin ei p\u00e4\u00e4ssyt sielt\u00e4 ikin\u00e4\nulos. Sitten Nimue pakeni ja j\u00e4tti Merlinin kallioon.\nSiten k\u00e4vi toteen ennustus Merlinin kohtalosta, ja my\u00f6hemmin my\u00f6skin\ntapahtui se mit\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli ennustanut Arthur kuninkaasta. Sill\u00e4 Merlin\nsanoi kerran, ett\u00e4 se mies, joka tuhoisi Arthurin, syntyisi toukokuun\nensim\u00e4isen\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4. Ja niin kuningas noudatti luokseen kaikki ne\nlapset, jotka olivat syntyneet ensim\u00e4isen\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 toukokuuta. Niiden\njoukossa oli monta lordien ja ladyjen poikaa ja muiden muassa my\u00f6s\nh\u00e4nen sisarenpoikansa Mordred, Lot kuninkaan puolison poika. Kaikki\nlapset pantiin laivaan ja l\u00e4hetettiin pois maasta, ja muutamat olivat\nvain nelj\u00e4n viikon vanhoja. Mutta laiva ajoi karille ja murskaantui,\nja kaikki lapset hukkuivat, paitsi yksi. Pikku Mordredin heittiv\u00e4t\naallot rannalle, ja er\u00e4s hyv\u00e4 mies otti h\u00e4net hoitoonsa ja kasvatti\nh\u00e4nt\u00e4, kunnes h\u00e4n oli t\u00e4ytt\u00e4nyt nelj\u00e4toista vuotta, jolloin h\u00e4n\nvei h\u00e4net hoviin. Mordred oli samoin kuin \u00e4itins\u00e4kin sangen ilke\u00e4\nja kavala ja, niinkuin my\u00f6hemmin saamme n\u00e4hd\u00e4, h\u00e4n saattoi paljon\nkurjuutta Py\u00f6re\u00e4n p\u00f6yd\u00e4n ritarien jaloon joukkoon.\nMonet valtakunnan lordit ja paroonit olivat kovin vihoissaan lastensa\nmenett\u00e4misest\u00e4; mutta useat syyttiv\u00e4t enemm\u00e4n Merlini\u00e4 kuin Arthuria,\nniin ett\u00e4 he pysyiv\u00e4t alallaan, joko sitten pelosta tai rakkaudesta.\nL\u00e4hteen ritari.\nKun Arthur kuningas kuuli Merlinilt\u00e4, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4nen \u00e4itins\u00e4 Igraine\nviel\u00e4 oli elossa, niin h\u00e4n l\u00e4hetti h\u00e4nt\u00e4 kaikessa kiireess\u00e4 hakemaan.\nJa kuningatar tulikin ja toi mukanaan tytt\u00e4rens\u00e4 Morgan le Fayn, joka\noli niin ihana nainen kuin olla saattoi. Igraine ei ollut koskaan\nsaanut tiet\u00e4\u00e4, kuinka oli k\u00e4ynyt sen pienen lapsen, jonka h\u00e4n oli\nantanut Merlinin huostaan, sill\u00e4 h\u00e4n ei ollut koskaan sen j\u00e4lkeen\nn\u00e4hnyt lastansa eik\u00e4 tiet\u00e4nyt edes mik\u00e4 nimi sille annettiin. Silloin\nMerlin otti kuningasta k\u00e4dest\u00e4 ja sanoi: \"T\u00e4m\u00e4 on sinun \u00e4itisi.\" Ja\nsilloin Arthur sulki \u00e4itins\u00e4, Igraine kuningattaren, syliins\u00e4 ja\nsuuteli h\u00e4nt\u00e4, ja he itkiv\u00e4t molemmat toinen toisensa t\u00e4hden. Ja\nkuningas m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4si pidett\u00e4v\u00e4ksi juhlan, joka kesti kahdeksan p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4.\nEr\u00e4\u00e4n\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 saapui hoviin muuan asemies kuljettaen edess\u00e4\u00e4n\nratsunsa sel\u00e4ss\u00e4 kuolettavasti haavoitettua ritaria. H\u00e4n kertoi,\nett\u00e4 mets\u00e4ss\u00e4 oli muuan ritari, joka oli pystytt\u00e4nyt teltan l\u00e4hteen\npartaalle ja kuinka tuo ritari oli surmannut h\u00e4nen herransa, joka oli\nkelpo ritari; ja h\u00e4n pyysi ett\u00e4 h\u00e4nen herransa haudattaisiin ja ett\u00e4\njoku ritari kostaisi h\u00e4nen kuolemansa.\nSuuri h\u00e4lin\u00e4 nousi hovissa tuon ritarin kuoleman johdosta, jokainen\ntahtoi antaa neuvojaan, ja muuan nuori asemies, Griflet nimelt\u00e4\u00e4n,\njoka oli jokseenkin samanik\u00e4inen kuin Arthur, tuli kuninkaan luokse\nja pyysi ett\u00e4 t\u00e4m\u00e4 tekisi h\u00e4net ritariksi.\n\"Sin\u00e4 olet viel\u00e4 liian nuori ja hento\", sanoi Arthur, \"ottaaksesi\nniin korkean arvon hartioillesi.\"\n\"Herra\", Griflet virkkoi, \"min\u00e4 rukoilen teit\u00e4 tekem\u00e4\u00e4n minut\nritariksi.\"\n\"Herra, olisi kovin ik\u00e4v\u00e4\u00e4 menett\u00e4\u00e4 Griflet\", sanoi Merlin, \"sill\u00e4\nh\u00e4nest\u00e4 tulee ylen kelpo mies, kun h\u00e4n p\u00e4\u00e4see t\u00e4ysi-ik\u00e4iseksi, ja h\u00e4n\non oleva teid\u00e4n luonanne el\u00e4m\u00e4ns\u00e4 loppuun asti.\"\nNiin kuningas teki h\u00e4net ritariksi.\n\"Mutta nyt\", h\u00e4n sanoi, \"koska min\u00e4 olen tehnyt sinut ritariksi, niin\nsinun t\u00e4ytyy antaa minulle lahja.\"\n\"Mit\u00e4 vain tahdotte\", Griflet sanoi.\nSilloin kuningas otti h\u00e4nelt\u00e4 lupauksen, ett\u00e4 kun h\u00e4n oli taistellut\nl\u00e4hteell\u00e4 ritarin kanssa, niin h\u00e4n palaisi suoraap\u00e4\u00e4t\u00e4 hoviin enempi\u00e4\ntaisteluja etsim\u00e4tt\u00e4.\nNiin Griflet hypp\u00e4si kiireesti ratsunsa selk\u00e4\u00e4n, asetti kilpens\u00e4\npaikoilleen ja otti peitsen k\u00e4teens\u00e4 ja ratsasti t\u00e4ytt\u00e4 laukkaa,\nkunnes h\u00e4n saapui l\u00e4hteelle. Siell\u00e4 h\u00e4n n\u00e4ki komean teltan ja sen\nvieress\u00e4 seisoi peitteen alla uljas ratsu, hyvin satuloituna ja\nsuitsitettuna ja puussa riippui moniv\u00e4rinen kilpi ja iso peitsi.\nGriflet kolhautti kilpeen peitsens\u00e4 per\u00e4ll\u00e4, niin ett\u00e4 kilpi putosi\nmaahan.\nSilloin ritari tuli ulos teltasta ja sanoi: \"Hyv\u00e4 ritari, miksi te\nty\u00f6nsitte alas minun kilpeni?\"\n\"Siksi ett\u00e4 tahdon tjostata teid\u00e4n kanssanne\", sanoi Griflet.\n\"Parempi on teid\u00e4n olla tjostaamatta\", sanoi ritari, \"sill\u00e4 te olette\nnuori ja vast'ik\u00e4\u00e4n ritariksi tehty, eik\u00e4 teid\u00e4n voimanne ole mit\u00e4\u00e4n\nminun voimieni rinnalla.\"\n\"Oli miten oli\", Griflet sanoi, \"mutta min\u00e4 tahdon tjostata teid\u00e4n\nkanssanne.\"\n\"En mielell\u00e4ni siihen suostu\", sanoi ritari, \"mutta koska minun\nt\u00e4ytyy, niin olen valmis. Mist\u00e4 te olette?\"\n\"Herra, min\u00e4 olen Arthurin hovista.\"\nMolemmat ritarit t\u00f6rm\u00e4siv\u00e4t yhteen, niin ett\u00e4 Grifletin peitsi\nkalahti kappaleiksi, ja silloin toinen ritari, jonka nimi oli\nPellinore, sy\u00f6ksi peitsens\u00e4 l\u00e4pi Grifletin kilven ja vasemman kupeen,\nniin ett\u00e4 peitsi katkesi ja hevonen ja ritari kaatuivat maahan.\nKun Pellinore n\u00e4ki Grifletin makaavan maassa, niin h\u00e4n hypp\u00e4si\nratsultaan ja oli hyvin pahoillansa, sill\u00e4 h\u00e4n luuli surmanneensa\nh\u00e4net. H\u00e4n irroitti Grifletin kyp\u00e4rin, jotta t\u00e4m\u00e4 olisi saanut\nraitista ilmaa, ja asetti h\u00e4net uudestaan ratsun selk\u00e4\u00e4n ja sanoi\nett\u00e4 h\u00e4nell\u00e4 oli uljas syd\u00e4n ja ett\u00e4 h\u00e4nest\u00e4 tulisi ylen kelpo\nritari, jos h\u00e4n saisi el\u00e4\u00e4. Niin Griflet herra ratsasti takaisin\nhoviin, jossa nousi suuri suru h\u00e4nen t\u00e4htens\u00e4. Mutta hyvien l\u00e4\u00e4k\u00e4rien\navulla h\u00e4n sent\u00e4\u00e4n parani.\nArthur kuningas oli kovin kiukuissaan Griflet herran saaman vamman\nt\u00e4hden, ja h\u00e4n k\u00e4ski yhden miehist\u00e4\u00e4n pit\u00e4\u00e4 valmiina h\u00e4nen ratsuaan\nja varuksiaan kaupungin ulkopuolella seuraavana aamuna ennen\np\u00e4iv\u00e4nkoittoa. Aamulla ennenkuin p\u00e4iv\u00e4 oli valjennut h\u00e4n nousi\nratsulleen ja otti peitsens\u00e4 ja kilpens\u00e4 ja k\u00e4ski miehen odottaa,\nkunnes h\u00e4n palaisi.\nH\u00e4n ratsasti hiljalleen, kunnes p\u00e4iv\u00e4 koitti, ja silloin h\u00e4n n\u00e4ki\nkuinka kolme moukkaa ajoi takaa Merlini\u00e4 surmatakseen h\u00e4net. Kuningas\nratsasti niit\u00e4 vastaan ja huusi: \"Paetkaa, moukat!\" Ja silloin he\npel\u00e4styiv\u00e4t, kun n\u00e4kiv\u00e4t ritarin, ja pakenivat.\n\"Voi Merlin\", Arthur virkkoi, \"t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 sin\u00e4 olisit joutunut surmasi\nsuuhun kaikesta oveluudestasi huolimatta, jollen min\u00e4 olisi tullut!\"\n\"Enp\u00e4 suinkaan\", Merlin virkkoi, \"sill\u00e4 min\u00e4 olisin voinut pelastaa\nitseni, jos olisin tahtonut. Mutta sin\u00e4 olet l\u00e4hemp\u00e4n\u00e4 kuolemaasi\nkuin min\u00e4, sill\u00e4 sin\u00e4 olet menossa kuolemaasi kohden, joll'ei Jumala\nsinua varjele.\"\nSiten pakinoiden he kulkivat ja tulivat l\u00e4hteelle, jonka partaalla\ntuo komea teltta seisoi. Ja Arthur kuningas n\u00e4ki ett\u00e4 siell\u00e4 istui\nasestettu ritari tuolilla.\n\"Herra ritari\", Arthur virkkoi, \"mink\u00e4 vuoksi sin\u00e4 oleskelet t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4,\nniin ett'ei yksik\u00e4\u00e4n ritari saata kulkea t\u00e4t\u00e4 tiet\u00e4 taistelematta\nsinun kanssasi? Min\u00e4 neuvon sinua luopumaan t\u00e4st\u00e4 tavasta.\"\n\"T\u00e4t\u00e4 tapaa min\u00e4 olen k\u00e4ytt\u00e4nyt\", Pellinore sanoi, \"ja tahdon sit\u00e4\nk\u00e4ytt\u00e4\u00e4, kielt\u00e4k\u00f6\u00f6n kuka tahansa. Ja jos jotakuta suututtaa minun\ntapani, niin parantakoon sen kuka tahtoo.\"\n\"Min\u00e4 tahdon parantaa sen\", virkkoi Arthur.\n\"Se ei onnistu\", sanoi Pellinore.\nJa h\u00e4n nousi nopeasti ratsulleen, asetti paikoilleen kyp\u00e4rins\u00e4 ja\notti peitsens\u00e4. He t\u00f6rm\u00e4siv\u00e4t niin rajusti toinen toisensa kilpi\u00e4\nvastaan, ett\u00e4 heid\u00e4n peitsens\u00e4 katkesivat. Silloin Arthur paljasti\n\u00e4kki\u00e4 miekkansa.\n\"Antakaahan olla\", ritari virkkoi, \"kauniimpaa on meid\u00e4n molempien\nrynnist\u00e4\u00e4 viel\u00e4 kerran ter\u00e4vill\u00e4 peitsill\u00e4 toisiamme vastaan.\"\n\"Niinp\u00e4 niinkin\", vastasi Arthur, \"jos minulla olisi enemm\u00e4n peitsi\u00e4.\"\n\"Minulla on kyll\u00e4\", Pellinore sanoi.\nAsemies tuli ja toi kaksi oivallista peist\u00e4, ja taas ritari ja\nkuningas rynnistiv\u00e4t kaikista voimistaan toisiaan vastaan, niin ett\u00e4\nmolemmat peitset katkesivat. Silloin Arthur tarttui miekkaansa.\n\"\u00c4lk\u00e4\u00e4h\u00e4n viel\u00e4\", sanoi ritari, \"te olette taitavin tjostaaja, jonka\nmin\u00e4 olen tavannut, ja ritariuden korkean arvon t\u00e4hden pyyd\u00e4n teit\u00e4\nviel\u00e4 kerran tjostaamaan kanssani.\"\n\"Olkoon menneeksi\", Arthur virkkoi.\nSilloin tuotiin kaksi viel\u00e4 suurempaa peist\u00e4, ja kumpikin ritari otti\nyhden ja he sy\u00f6ksyiv\u00e4t yhteen, niin ett\u00e4 Arthurin peitsi kalahti\nkappaleiksi. Mutta Pellinore antoi h\u00e4nelle niin voimakkaan iskun\nkeskelle kilpe\u00e4, ett\u00e4 sek\u00e4 ratsu ett\u00e4 mies kaatui maahan. Silloin\nArthur paljasti kiukkuisesti miekkansa ja sanoi: \"Min\u00e4 koettelen\nsinun voimiasi, herra ritari, jalkaisin, sill\u00e4 min\u00e4 olen kadottanut\nkunniani ratsun sel\u00e4ss\u00e4\", ja h\u00e4n sy\u00f6ksyi paljastetuin miekoin h\u00e4nt\u00e4\nkohden.\nKun Pellinore sen n\u00e4ki, niin h\u00e4n hypp\u00e4si my\u00f6skin satulasta, sill\u00e4\nh\u00e4nen mielest\u00e4\u00e4n ei ollut kunniallista antaa ritarin olla niin\nep\u00e4edullisessa asemassa, itse olla ratsun sel\u00e4ss\u00e4, kun toinen\ntaistelee jalkaisin. Silloin alkoi kiivas ottelu, iskuja saatiin ja\nannettiin molemmin puolin, kunnes kentt\u00e4 oli kosteana hurmeesta. He\ntaistelivat kauan, lep\u00e4siv\u00e4t ja alkoivat taas ottelun. Viimein he\nmolemmat iskiv\u00e4t miekkansa yhteen, mutta Pellinoren miekka katkaisi\nArthurin miekan kahtia, ja se suututti kovin kuningasta.\nSilloin ritari sanoi Arthurille:\n\"En tied\u00e4 annanko sinun j\u00e4\u00e4d\u00e4 el\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n vai surmaanko sinut. Mutta\njollet sin\u00e4 antaudu ja tunnusta itse\u00e4si voitetuksi ja pelkuriksi,\nniin sinun pit\u00e4\u00e4 kuoleman.\"\n\"Kuolema on tervetullut, tulkoon koska tahansa\", Arthur kuningas\nsanoi, \"mutta antautua sinulle pelkurina: ennemmin kuolen, kuin niin\nh\u00e4p\u00e4isen itseni.\" Ja h\u00e4n rynt\u00e4si Pellinoren kimppuun ja paiskasi\nh\u00e4net maahan ja tempasi kyp\u00e4rin h\u00e4nen p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4ns\u00e4.\nKun ritari tunsi sen, niin h\u00e4n pel\u00e4styi kovin, vaikka h\u00e4n olikin iso\nja vahva mies. Mutta h\u00e4n sai Arthurin nopeasti allensa ja riisti\nkyp\u00e4rin h\u00e4nen p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4\u00e4n ja aikoi katkaista h\u00e4nen kaulansa.\nMutta silloinpa ilmestyi Merlin ja sanoi:\n\"Ritari, pid\u00e4t\u00e4 k\u00e4tesi, sill\u00e4 jos sin\u00e4 surmaat tuon ritarin, niin\nsin\u00e4 sy\u00f6kset t\u00e4m\u00e4n valtakunnan suurimpaan turmioon, miss\u00e4 mik\u00e4\u00e4n\nvaltakunta koskaan on ollut. Sill\u00e4 t\u00e4m\u00e4 ritari on korkeampi arvoltaan\nkuin sin\u00e4 luuletkaan.\"\n\"Kuka h\u00e4n sitten on?\" kysyi Pellinore.\n\"Arthur kuningas.\"\nSilloin Pellinore olisi surmannut itsens\u00e4, sill\u00e4 h\u00e4n pelk\u00e4si\nkuninkaan vihaa, ja h\u00e4n nosti miekkansa. Mutta Merlin pani h\u00e4net\nlumoukseen, niin ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n vaipui raskaaseen uneen.\nExcalibur miekka.\nVaivutettuaan Pellinoren taikauneen Merlin nosti pystyyn Arthur\nkuninkaan ja ratsasti pois Pellinoren ratsulla.\n\"Voi, mit\u00e4 sin\u00e4 olet tehnyt, Merlin\", Arthur sanoi, \"surmasitko sin\u00e4\ntuon kelpo ritarin taikakeinoillasi? Ei ole maan p\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 toista niin\nkunnianarvoisaa ritaria kuin h\u00e4n, ja min\u00e4 luopuisin mieluummin koko\nvuoden tuloista, kuin antaisin h\u00e4nen kuolla.\"\n\"\u00c4lk\u00e4\u00e4 huolehtiko\", Merlin sanoi, \"sill\u00e4 h\u00e4nell\u00e4 on v\u00e4hemm\u00e4n h\u00e4t\u00e4\u00e4\nkuin teill\u00e4. H\u00e4n on vain unessa ja her\u00e4\u00e4 ennenkuin kolme tuntia on\nkulunut. Ei el\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n maan p\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 oivallisempaa ritaria kuin h\u00e4n, ja\nt\u00e4st'edes h\u00e4n tekee teille suuria palveluksia. H\u00e4nen nimens\u00e4 on\nPellinore, ja h\u00e4n on saava kaksi poikaa, joista tulee ylen kelpo\nmiehi\u00e4: Walesin Percival ja Walesin Lamerack.\"\nJ\u00e4tetty\u00e4\u00e4n Pellinoren, Arthur kuningas ja Merlin saapuivat er\u00e4\u00e4n\nerakon luo, joka oli hyv\u00e4 mies ja taitava parannustaidossa. H\u00e4n hoiti\nniin huolellisesti kuninkaan haavoja, ett\u00e4 ne kolmessa p\u00e4iv\u00e4ss\u00e4\nkokonaan paranivat, ja Arthur kykeni jatkamaan matkaansa Merlinin\nkera. Silloin heid\u00e4n ratsastaessaan Arthur sanoi: \"Minulla ei ole\nmiekkaa.\"\n\"Ei ole v\u00e4li\u00e4\", Merlin sanoi, \"t\u00e4ss\u00e4 on l\u00e4hell\u00e4 miekka, joka tulee\nteid\u00e4n omaksenne, jos min\u00e4 vain sen saan k\u00e4siini.\"\nNiin he ratsastivat kunnes saapuivat er\u00e4\u00e4lle j\u00e4rvelle, joka oli leve\u00e4\nja kirkasvetinen. Ja j\u00e4rven keskell\u00e4 Arthur n\u00e4ki valkoiseen samettiin\nverhotun k\u00e4sivarren, joka piti kaunista miekkaa k\u00e4dess\u00e4\u00e4n.\n\"Katsokaa\", Merlin sanoi, \"tuolla on miekka, josta min\u00e4 puhuin.\"\nSilloin he n\u00e4kiv\u00e4t neidon soutavan j\u00e4rven poikki.\n\"Mik\u00e4 neito tuo on?\" kysyi Arthur.\n\"Se on J\u00e4rven neito\", Merlin sanoi, \"ja tuossa j\u00e4rvess\u00e4 on kallio ja\nsen sis\u00e4ss\u00e4 on ihanin asunto kuin olla saattaa maan p\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 ja se on\nkoristettu kalleilla koristuksilla. Tuo neito tulee kohta luoksenne,\npuhukaa silloin h\u00e4nelle kauniisti, niin ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n antaa teille tuon\nmiekan.\"\nSilloin juuri neito tuli Arthurin luo ja tervehti h\u00e4nt\u00e4, ja Arthur\nvastasi neidon tervehdykseen.\n\"Neito\", Arthur sanoi, \"mit\u00e4 miekkaa tuo k\u00e4sivarsi tuolla kannattelee\nveden p\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4? Soisinpa ett\u00e4 se olisi minun, sill\u00e4 minulla ei ole\nmiekkaa.\"\n\"Arthur herra kuningas\", sanoi neito, \"se miekka on minun; sen nimi\non Excalibur, joka merkitsee niin paljo kuin _'Leikkaa ter\u00e4st\u00e4'_. Jos\nlupaatte antaa minulle lahjan, kun sit\u00e4 teilt\u00e4 pyyd\u00e4n, niin saatte\ntuon miekan.\"\n\"Kautta kunniani\", sanoi Arthur, \"saatte mink\u00e4 lahjan vain tahdotte.\"\n\"Hyv\u00e4\", sanoi neito, \"astukaa tuohon veneesen ja soutakaa miekan\nluo ja ottakaa se ja sen huotra mukaanne, ja min\u00e4 tulen pyyt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n\nlahjaani, kun aikani tulee.\"\nNiin Arthur kuningas ja Merlin hypp\u00e4siv\u00e4t ratsuiltaan ja sitoivat ne\nkahteen puuhun ja astuivat veneesen, ja kun he saapuivat miekan luo\njota k\u00e4si kannatteli, niin Arthur tarttui miekkaan kahvasta ja nosti\nsen veneesen ja vei sen mukanaan. Ja k\u00e4sivarsi ja k\u00e4si katosi veden\nalle, ja niin he soutivat rantaan ja ratsastivat pois.\nSitten Arthur kuningas katseli miekkaa ja kehui sit\u00e4 ylen hyv\u00e4ksi.\n\"Kumpiko mielest\u00e4nne on parempi, miekkako vai huotra?\" kysyi Merlin.\n\"Minusta miekka on parempi\", vastasi Arthur.\n\"Te olette kerrassaan ymm\u00e4rt\u00e4m\u00e4t\u00f6n\", Merlin virkkoi, \"sill\u00e4 huotra\non kymmenen miekan arvoinen. Kun teill\u00e4 on huotra mukananne, niin\nette menet\u00e4 tippaakaan verta, vaikka olisitte kuinka vaikeasti\nhaavoitettu. Pit\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4 sent\u00e4hden huotraa aina huolellisesti\nhuostassanne.\"\nNiin he palasivat Carleoniin ja Arthur kuninkaan ritarit ihastuivat\nikihyviksi, kun taas h\u00e4net n\u00e4kiv\u00e4t. Kun he kuulivat h\u00e4nen\nseikkailuistaan, niin he ihmetteliv\u00e4t, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n sill\u00e4 tapaa antautui\nvaaroihin yp\u00f6 yksin\u00e4\u00e4n. Mutta kaikki kunnon miehet sanoivat, ett\u00e4\noli hauskaa olla sellaisen p\u00e4\u00e4llik\u00f6n k\u00e4skett\u00e4v\u00e4n\u00e4, joka antautui\nseikkailuihin aivan kuin tavallinen halpa ritari.\nV\u00e4h\u00e4n aikaa senj\u00e4lkeen Merlin taas varoitti Arthur kuningasta\npit\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n tarkkaa huolta Excalibur miekan huotrasta, sill\u00e4 niin\nkauan kuin se oli h\u00e4nell\u00e4, ei h\u00e4n menett\u00e4isi tippaakaan verta,\nvaikka h\u00e4net haavoitettaisiin kuinka vaikeasti tahansa. Varmemmaksi\nvakuudeksi Arthur silloin uskoi miekan ja huotran sisarensa Morgan\nle Fayn huostaan. Mutta Morgan le Fay oli viekas ja kavala nainen.\nH\u00e4n rakasti muuatta ritaria enemm\u00e4n kuin puolisoansa Uriens\nkuningasta tai velje\u00e4ns\u00e4 Arthur kuningasta, ja h\u00e4n keksi viekkaan\nkeinon, jolla h\u00e4n saisi heid\u00e4t molemmat surmatuksi. Sitten h\u00e4n aikoi\nmenn\u00e4 naimisiin tuon ritarin, Accolon herran kanssa, ja asettaa\nh\u00e4net Arthur kuninkaan sijaan valtaistuimelle, jolloin h\u00e4nest\u00e4\nitsest\u00e4\u00e4n tulisi koko valtakunnan kuningatar. Senvuoksi h\u00e4n valmisti\ntaikakeinoillaan toisen huotran, joka oli aivan samallainen kuin\nExcaliburin huotra, ja antoi sen sitten Arthurille, kun t\u00e4m\u00e4 l\u00e4hti\ntaistelemaan. Mutta Excaliburia ja sen huotraa h\u00e4n s\u00e4ilytti Accolon\nherraa varten.\nPy\u00f6re\u00e4 p\u00f6yt\u00e4.\nKun Arthur oli ollut muutamia vuosia kuninkaana ja taistellut\nvihollisiaan vastaan ja voittanut useat niist\u00e4, niin h\u00e4nen parooninsa\nalkoivat pit\u00e4\u00e4 huolta, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n ottaisi itselleen puolison, ja niin\nh\u00e4n tapansa mukaan meni neuvottelemaan Merlinin kanssa.\n\"Se on oikein\", Merlin sanoi, \"sill\u00e4 niin hyv\u00e4n ja jalon miehen kuin\nte ei pid\u00e4 j\u00e4\u00e4d\u00e4 ilman vaimoa. Onko ket\u00e4\u00e4n, jota rakastatte enemm\u00e4n\nkuin muita?\"\n\"On\", Arthur kuningas sanoi, \"min\u00e4 rakastan Guinevere\u00e4, Cameliardin\nkuninkaan Leodegrancen tyt\u00e4rt\u00e4. Leodegrance pit\u00e4\u00e4 huoneessaan\nPy\u00f6re\u00e4t\u00e4 p\u00f6yt\u00e4\u00e4, jonka h\u00e4n sai is\u00e4lt\u00e4ni Utherilta, ja t\u00e4m\u00e4 neito\non kaunein ja jaloin kaikista, joita olen n\u00e4hnyt tai koskaan n\u00e4hd\u00e4\nsaatan.\"\n\"Herra\", sanoi Merlin, \"mit\u00e4 kauneuteen tulee niin h\u00e4n on kyll\u00e4\nkaikkein ihanimpia. Mutta joll'ette rakastaisi h\u00e4nt\u00e4 niin suuresti\nkuin rakastatte, niin saattaisin l\u00f6yt\u00e4\u00e4 teille toisen neidon, niin\nkauniin ja hyv\u00e4n, ett\u00e4 te h\u00e4neen mielistyisitte -- joll'ei teid\u00e4n\nsyd\u00e4menne jo olisi kiintynyt. Mutta kun miehen syd\u00e4n on kiintynyt,\nniin vaikea on en\u00e4\u00e4 k\u00e4\u00e4nty\u00e4 takaisin.\"\n\"Se on totta\", Arthur sanoi.\nSitten Merlin varoitti kuningasta, ettei olisi viisasta naida\nGuinevere\u00e4. Merlinill\u00e4 oli ennustuksen lahja ja h\u00e4n tiesi ett\u00e4\njos tuo naimisliitto teht\u00e4isiin, niin siit\u00e4 syntyisi paljon\nonnettomuutta. Mutta ei mik\u00e4\u00e4n voinut saada kuningasta luopumaan\naikeestaan. Niin Merlin vei sanan Leodegrancelle, joka ilostui\nsuuresti.\n\"Ne ovat parhaimpia sanomia mit\u00e4 koskaan olen saanut\", h\u00e4n sanoi,\n\"ett\u00e4 niin jalo ja ylev\u00e4 kuningas tahtoo naida tytt\u00e4reni. Mit\u00e4\nmaihini tulee, niin antaisin ne h\u00e4nelle kaikki, jos luulisin sen\nolevan h\u00e4nelle mieleen, mutta h\u00e4nell\u00e4 on maita kylliksi, h\u00e4n ei\ntarvitse enemp\u00e4\u00e4. Sen sijaan annan h\u00e4nelle lahjan, joka miellytt\u00e4\u00e4\nh\u00e4nt\u00e4 paljo enemm\u00e4n. Annan h\u00e4nelle Py\u00f6re\u00e4n p\u00f6yd\u00e4n, jonka sain Uther\nPendragonilta, ja kun kaikki paikat ovat t\u00e4ytetyt, niin siin\u00e4 on\nritareita sata ja viisikymment\u00e4. Ja sata hyv\u00e4\u00e4 ritaria minulla on\nitsell\u00e4ni, mutta viisikymment\u00e4 puuttuu, sill\u00e4 niin moni on minun\naikanani surmansa saanut.\"\nNiin Leodegrance kuningas antoi tytt\u00e4rens\u00e4 Merlinille ja Py\u00f6re\u00e4n\np\u00f6yd\u00e4n ja nuo sata ritaria. Ja he ratsastivat kuninkaallisessa\nloistossa ja komeudessa yli maiden ja vesien, kunnes saapuivat\nl\u00e4helle Lontoota.\nKun Arthur kuningas kuuli ett\u00e4 Guinevere oli tulossa ja nuo sata\nritaria Py\u00f6re\u00e4n p\u00f6yd\u00e4n keralla, niin h\u00e4n riemuitsi suuresti heid\u00e4n\ntulostaan ja siit\u00e4 kalliista lahjasta.\n\"T\u00e4m\u00e4 ihana lady on ylen tervetullut minun luokseni\", h\u00e4n sanoi,\n\"sill\u00e4 min\u00e4 olen h\u00e4nt\u00e4 kauan rakastanut, ja sent\u00e4hden ei mik\u00e4\u00e4n minua\nniin ilahuta. Ja nuo ritarit ja Py\u00f6re\u00e4 p\u00f6yt\u00e4 miellytt\u00e4v\u00e4t minua\nenemm\u00e4n kuin suuret ja kalliit aarteet.\"\nJa kuningas k\u00e4ski kaikessa kiireess\u00e4 ruveta valmistamaan h\u00e4it\u00e4 ja\nkruunajaisia, jotta ne saataisiin niin komeiksi kuin vain ajatella\nsaattoi. Ja h\u00e4n k\u00e4ski Merlinin menn\u00e4 ja hakea viisikymment\u00e4 jalointa\nja arvokkainta ritaria ja t\u00e4ytt\u00e4\u00e4 vapaat paikat Py\u00f6re\u00e4n p\u00f6yd\u00e4n\n\u00e4\u00e4ress\u00e4.\nEnnen pitk\u00e4\u00e4 Merlin l\u00f6ysikin sellaisia ritareita, niin ett\u00e4\nkahdeksankolmatta paikkaa tuli t\u00e4ytetyksi, mutta enemp\u00e4\u00e4 h\u00e4n ei\nvoinut l\u00f6yt\u00e4\u00e4.\nSitten noudettiin Canterburyn arkkipiispa ja h\u00e4n siunasi istuimet\nsuurella loistolla ja hartaudella, ja nuo kahdeksankolmatta ritaria\nistuutuivat paikoilleen.\nKun se oli tehty, sanoi Merlin:\n\"Jalot herrat, teid\u00e4n t\u00e4ytyy kaikkien nousta ja tulla osoittamaan\nkunnioitustanne Arthur kuninkaalle.\" Ja niin he nousivat ja\nkunnioittivat h\u00e4nt\u00e4.\nJa kun he olivat menneet, niin Merlin huomasi ett\u00e4 jokaisessa\nistuimessa oli kultakirjaimilla sen ritarin nimi, joka oli siin\u00e4\nistunut. Mutta kaksi paikkaa oli tyhj\u00e4n\u00e4.\nKohta senj\u00e4lkeen saapui nuori Gawaine, Orkneyn kuninkaan Lotin poika,\nja pyysi lahjaa kuninkaalta.\n\"Pyyd\u00e4\", kuningas sanoi, \"ja min\u00e4 annan sinulle.\"\n\"Herra, min\u00e4 pyyd\u00e4n ett\u00e4 te tekisitte minut ritariksi sin\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4,\njona otatte Guineveren avioksi.\"\n\"Teen sen mielell\u00e4ni\", Arthur kuningas sanoi, \"ja tahdon osoittaa\nteille kaikkea kunniaa, mink\u00e4 voin, koska te olette minun nepaani.\"\nNiin kuningas teki Gawainen h\u00e4\u00e4juhlassaan ritariksi ja samalla kertaa\nh\u00e4n my\u00f6skin ritaroi Pellinore kuninkaan pojan, jalon ja uljaan\nnuorukaisen, jonka nimi oli Tor.\nSitten Arthur kuningas kysyi Merlinilt\u00e4, mik\u00e4 oli syyn\u00e4 siihen, ett\u00e4\nPy\u00f6re\u00e4n p\u00f6yd\u00e4n istuinten joukossa oli kaksi paikkaa tyhj\u00e4n\u00e4.\n\"Herra\", sanoi Merlin, \"niill\u00e4 paikoilla ei ole istuva ketk\u00e4\u00e4n\nmuut kuin kaikista mainehikkaimmat ja jaloimmat. Ja Vaarallisella\nistuimella on istuva vain yksi, ja jos joku muu uskaltaa siihen\nasettua, niin tuho h\u00e4net perii. Ja sill\u00e4, joka siin\u00e4 on istuva, ei\nole vertaista oleva.\"\nNiin sanoen Merlin otti Pellinore kuningasta k\u00e4dest\u00e4 ja vei h\u00e4net\nmolempien tyhjien tuolien ja Vaarallisen istuimen luo ja sanoi\nkaikkien kuullen ja syv\u00e4\u00e4n kumartaen:\n\"T\u00e4m\u00e4 on teid\u00e4n paikkanne ja parhaiten kaikista t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 olevista te\nsen ansaitsette.\"\nSilloin Gawaine herra vihastui suuresti ja sanoi veljelleen\nGaherisille:\n\"Tuo ritari on asetettu suureen kunniaan ja se suututtaa minua\nkovasti, sill\u00e4 h\u00e4n surmasi meid\u00e4n is\u00e4mme, Lot kuninkaan. Sen vuoksi\nmin\u00e4 tahdon surmata h\u00e4net t\u00e4ll\u00e4 miekalla, joka minulle l\u00e4hetettiin ja\njoka on ylen ter\u00e4v\u00e4.\"\n\"\u00c4lk\u00e4\u00e4 sit\u00e4 nyt tehk\u00f6\", Gaheris sanoi, \"sill\u00e4 min\u00e4 olen vasta\nasemies. Mutta kun minut on tehty ritariksi, niin min\u00e4 kostan\nh\u00e4nelle. Ja sent\u00e4hden, veljeni, on parasta ett\u00e4 te odotatte toiseen\naikaan, ett\u00e4 saisimme h\u00e4net pois hovista, sill\u00e4 jos me surmaisimme\nh\u00e4net t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4, niin me h\u00e4iritsisimme t\u00e4t\u00e4 jaloa juhlaa.\"\n\"Tahdon tehd\u00e4 niinkuin te sanotte\", virkkoi Gawaine.\nSitten valmistui tuo jalo juhla, ja Camelotissa vihittiin kuningas\nsuurilla juhlallisuuksilla Guinevereen pyh\u00e4n Tapanin kirkossa.\nSitten kuningas antoi kaikille ritareillensa lahjoja, ja niille,\njotka eiv\u00e4t olleet rikkaita, h\u00e4n antoi tiluksia ja teroitti heid\u00e4n\nmieleens\u00e4 ett'eiv\u00e4t koskaan ket\u00e4\u00e4n loukkaisi tai tappaisi ja ett\u00e4\nhe aina pakenisivat petosta. Ja ett'eiv\u00e4t he mill\u00e4\u00e4n muotoa olisi\njulmia, vaan armahtaisivat niit\u00e4, jotka pyyt\u00e4v\u00e4t armoa, taikka muuten\nhe menett\u00e4isiv\u00e4t ikip\u00e4iviksi kunniansa ja Arthur kuninkaan suosion;\nja ett\u00e4 he aina auttaisivat ladyj\u00e4 ja neitej\u00e4 ja aatelisnaisia\nkuoleman rangaistuksen uhalla. Ja my\u00f6s ett'ei kenk\u00e4\u00e4n saanut ryhty\u00e4\nv\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4\u00e4n taisteluun, ei kenenk\u00e4\u00e4n k\u00e4skyst\u00e4 eik\u00e4 t\u00e4m\u00e4n maailman\nhyvyyden t\u00e4hden.\nT\u00e4m\u00e4n vannoivat kaikki Py\u00f6re\u00e4n p\u00f6yd\u00e4n ritarit, sek\u00e4 nuoret ett\u00e4\nvanhat. Ja joka vuosi he uudistivat valansa korkeana helluntaijuhlana.\nTaikalaivan ihmeellinen seikkailu.\nEr\u00e4\u00e4n\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 tapahtui, ett\u00e4 Arthur oli mets\u00e4st\u00e4m\u00e4ss\u00e4 useiden\nritariensa kanssa suuressa mets\u00e4ss\u00e4. Kuningas itse, Gaulin Accolon\nja Uriens kuningas, Morgan le Fayn puoliso, ajoivat takaa komeata\nhirve\u00e4 ja heid\u00e4n ratsunsa olivat niin nopsat ett\u00e4 he tovin per\u00e4st\u00e4\nolivat kymmenen penikulmaa edell\u00e4 kumppaneistaan. Ankarasta ajosta\nn\u00e4\u00e4ntynein\u00e4 heid\u00e4n ratsunsa viimein vaipuivat maahan, mutta yh\u00e4 he\nn\u00e4kiv\u00e4t edess\u00e4\u00e4n hirven, joka n\u00e4ytti aivan uupuneelta.\n\"Mit\u00e4 nyt teemme?\", Arthur kuningas sanoi, \"me olemme aika pulassa.\"\n\"K\u00e4yk\u00e4\u00e4mme jalkaisin\", sanoi Uriens kuningas, \"kunnes kohtaamme\njonkin asumuksen.\"\nSilloin he n\u00e4kiv\u00e4t hirven makaavan leve\u00e4n j\u00e4rven rannalla ja koirat\nolivat sen saavuttaneet, ja Arthur kuningas puhalsi torvellaan merkin\nett\u00e4 otus oli kaatunut.\nSitten h\u00e4n katseli ymp\u00e4rilleen ja n\u00e4ki edess\u00e4\u00e4n j\u00e4rvell\u00e4 pienen\nlaivan, joka oli aina veden rajaan asti verhottuna silkill\u00e4. Ja laiva\ntuli suoraan heit\u00e4 kohden ja laski rannan hietikolle. Arthur kuningas\nmeni rantaan ja kurkisti laivaan, mutta ei n\u00e4hnyt siin\u00e4 ainoatakaan\nmaallista olentoa.\n\"Tulkaa\", sanoi Arthur kuningas, \"menk\u00e4\u00e4mme katsomaan, mit\u00e4 tuossa\nlaivassa oikein on.\"\nNiin he kaikki kolme astuivat laivaan ja n\u00e4kiv\u00e4t ett\u00e4 se oli\nrunsaasti koristettu silkkikankaalla. Mutta sitten kaikki pimeni\nja he n\u00e4kiv\u00e4t yht'\u00e4kki\u00e4 ymp\u00e4rill\u00e4\u00e4n laivan kaikilla kulmilla\nsatoja soihtuja, jotka valaisivat kirkkaasti. Ja samassa ilmestyi\nkaksitoista ihanaa impe\u00e4, jotka tervehtiv\u00e4t polviaan notkistaen\nArthur kuningasta ja kutsuivat h\u00e4nt\u00e4 nimelt\u00e4\u00e4n ja sanoivat ett\u00e4\nh\u00e4n oli sangen tervetullut, ja ett\u00e4 he kestitsisiv\u00e4t h\u00e4nt\u00e4 miten\nparhaiten taitaisivat. Kuningas kiitti heit\u00e4 kohteliaasti.\nNeidot veiv\u00e4t kuninkaan ja h\u00e4nen molemmat toverinsa kauniiseen\nhuoneesen, jossa oli p\u00f6yt\u00e4 runsaasti katettuna kaikilla hyvill\u00e4\ntavaroilla; ja siell\u00e4 heille tarjottiin kaikellaisia viinej\u00e4 ja\nruokia, mit\u00e4 he vain saattoivat ajatella, ja se ihmetytti suuresti\nkuningasta, sill\u00e4 h\u00e4n ei ollut koskaan el\u00e4ess\u00e4\u00e4n sy\u00f6nyt parempaa\nateriaa.\nKun he olivat sy\u00f6neet kyllikseen, niin Arthur kuningas vietiin\ntoiseen huoneeseen, joka oli kauniimmin koristettu kuin h\u00e4n koskaan\noli n\u00e4hnyt. Ja samaten palveltiin Uriens kuningasta, ja Accolon\nherra vietiin kolmanteen huoneeseen, joka my\u00f6s oli ylen ihanasti\nkoristettu. Ja niin he meniv\u00e4t iloissaan maata ja vaipuivat heti\nuneen.\nMutta her\u00e4tess\u00e4\u00e4n aamulla Uriens kuningas huomasi olevansa\nCamelotissa puolisonsa Morgan le Fayn luona, ja se h\u00e4mm\u00e4stytti h\u00e4nt\u00e4\nsuuresti, sill\u00e4 edellisen\u00e4 iltana h\u00e4n oli ollut kahden p\u00e4iv\u00e4n matkan\np\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4 Camelotista.\nJa kun Arthur kuningas her\u00e4si, niin h\u00e4n huomasi olevansa pime\u00e4ss\u00e4\ntyrm\u00e4ss\u00e4 ja kuuli ymp\u00e4rill\u00e4\u00e4n monen onnettoman ritarin vaikerruksia.\n\"Keit\u00e4 te olette, jotka niin valitatte?\" Arthur kuningas sanoi.\n\"Meit\u00e4 on t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 kaksikymment\u00e4 ritaria vankina\", he sanoivat, \"ja\nuseat meist\u00e4 ovat maanneet t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 seitsem\u00e4n vuotta, ja toiset\nkauemman ja toiset v\u00e4hemm\u00e4n aikaa.\"\n\"Mist\u00e4 syyst\u00e4?\" kysyi Arthur.\n\"Saatte kuulla\", ritarit sanoivat.\n\"T\u00e4m\u00e4n linnan lordi on Damas herra nimelt\u00e4\u00e4n ja h\u00e4n on kavalin\nritari mit\u00e4 olla saattaa ja t\u00e4ynn\u00e4 petosta, ja suurin konna, mit\u00e4\nmilloinkaan on el\u00e4nyt. H\u00e4nell\u00e4 on nuorempi veli, hyv\u00e4 ja uljas\nritari, nimelt\u00e4 Ontzlake herra, ja vanhempi veli, t\u00e4m\u00e4 Damas\npetturi, ei tahdo antaa h\u00e4nelle h\u00e4nen perint\u00f6-osaansa, paitsi mit\u00e4\nOntzlake herra omalla uljuudellaan on saanut pidetyksi hallussaan.\nNuoremmalla veljell\u00e4 on sangen kaunis ja rikas kartano, ja siin\u00e4 h\u00e4n\nasuu kaikessa kunniassa ja on kaiken kansan rakastama, mutta Damas\nherraa vihaavat kaikki, sill\u00e4 h\u00e4n on ilman s\u00e4\u00e4li\u00e4 ja suuri konna. He\novat k\u00e4yneet kauan sotaa kesken\u00e4\u00e4n, mutta Ontzlake on aina voiton\npuolella; ja h\u00e4n tarjoutuu tarjoutumistaan taistelemaan Damas herran\nkanssa perinn\u00f6st\u00e4 mies miest\u00e4 vastaan, taikka joll'ei t\u00e4m\u00e4 tahdo itse\ntaistella, niin saa h\u00e4n hankkia jonkun ritarin taistelemaan edest\u00e4ns\u00e4.\n\"Siihen Damas herra suostuikin, mutta h\u00e4n on niin vihattu, ett'ei\nkukaan ritari tahdo taistella h\u00e4nen puolestansa. Senvuoksi Damas\non joka p\u00e4iv\u00e4 ritareineen v\u00e4ijym\u00e4ss\u00e4 ja hy\u00f6kk\u00e4\u00e4 kaikkien ritarien\nkimppuun, jotka retkill\u00e4ns\u00e4 joutuvat n\u00e4ille maille, ja vie heid\u00e4t\ntyrm\u00e4\u00e4ns\u00e4. Ja monta kunnon ritaria, luvultaan yksitoista, on kuollut\nn\u00e4lk\u00e4\u00e4n t\u00e4ss\u00e4 tyrm\u00e4ss\u00e4. Jos vain yksi meist\u00e4, jotka olemme t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4,\nolisi tahtonut taistella h\u00e4nen veljens\u00e4 Ontzlake herran kanssa,\nniin h\u00e4n olisi laskenut meid\u00e4t vapaiksi, mutta kun tuo Damas on\nniin viekas ja kavala, niin me emme ikin\u00e4 tahdo taistella h\u00e4nen\npuolestansa. Ja me olemme niin n\u00e4l\u00e4n heikontamia, ett\u00e4 me tuskin\nvoimme pystyss\u00e4 pysy\u00e4.\"\n\"Jumala armossaan teid\u00e4t pelastakoon\", sanoi Arthur.\nSilloin juuri tuli muuan neito Arthurin luo ja sanoi: \"Mit\u00e4 kuuluu?\"\n\"En tied\u00e4\", Arthur virkkoi.\n\"Herra, jos te tahdotte taistella minun is\u00e4nt\u00e4ni puolesta, niin\nteid\u00e4t lasketaan vapaaksi, muuten ette ikin\u00e4 p\u00e4\u00e4se t\u00e4\u00e4lt\u00e4 el\u00e4v\u00e4n\u00e4.\"\n\"Se on kovaa\", Arthur sanoi, \"mutta ennemmin tahdon taistella ritaria\nvastaan kuin kuolla vankeudessa. Mutta vain sill\u00e4 ehdolla, ett\u00e4 min\u00e4\nsaan vapauteni, ja kaikki n\u00e4m\u00e4 vangit, l\u00e4hden min\u00e4 taisteluun.\"\n\"Niin on tapahtuva\", sanoi neito.\n\"Min\u00e4 olen valmis\", sanoi Arthur, \"jos minulla vain olisi ratsu ja\nvarukset.\"\n\"Teilt\u00e4 ei ole mit\u00e4\u00e4n puuttuva\", neito vastasi.\n\"Minusta n\u00e4ytt\u00e4\u00e4, neito, niinkuin olisin n\u00e4hnyt teid\u00e4t Arthurin\nhovissa.\"\n\"Ette suinkaan\", neito sanoi, \"min\u00e4 en ole koskaan ollut siell\u00e4, min\u00e4\nolen t\u00e4m\u00e4n linnan herran tyt\u00e4r.\"\nMutta h\u00e4n valehteli, sill\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli yksi Morgan le Fayn neidoista.\nSitten h\u00e4n meni joutuisasti Damas herran luokse ja kertoi, ett\u00e4\nArthur tahtoi taistella h\u00e4nen edest\u00e4ns\u00e4, ja niin t\u00e4m\u00e4 l\u00e4hetti\nhakemaan Arthuria. Ja kun Arthur saapui, niin h\u00e4n oli niin kaunis ja\nylev\u00e4, ett\u00e4 kaikki ritarit, jotka h\u00e4nen n\u00e4kiv\u00e4t, sanoivat ett\u00e4 olisi\ns\u00e4\u00e4li, jos moinen ritari kuolisi vankeudessa.\nSitten h\u00e4n ja Damas herra sopivat, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n taistelisi Damas herran\nedest\u00e4 sill\u00e4 ehdolla, ett\u00e4 kaikki muut ritarit p\u00e4\u00e4sisiv\u00e4t vapaiksi.\nDamas herra vannoi Arthurille, ett\u00e4 se tapahtuisi, ja Arthur\npuolestaan vannoi taistelevansa niin kauan kuin pystyss\u00e4 pysyisi.\nSilloin kaikki kaksikymment\u00e4 ritaria tuotiin saliin pime\u00e4st\u00e4 tyrm\u00e4st\u00e4\nja laskettiin vapaiksi. Ja niin he kaikki j\u00e4iv\u00e4t katsomaan taistelua.\nMorgan le Fayn kavaluus.\nPalatkaamme nyt Gaulin Accoloniin, joka oli Arthurin ja Uriens\nkuninkaan mukana, kun n\u00e4m\u00e4 meniv\u00e4t taikalaivaan nukkumaan.\nKun h\u00e4n her\u00e4si, niin h\u00e4n huomasi olevansa syv\u00e4n kaivon partaalla,\nvain muutamia tuumia sen reunasta, suuressa hengen vaarassa.\nKaivosta kohosi hopeaputki ja putkesta suihkusi vett\u00e4 korkealle\nmarmorialtaaseen.\nKun Accolon herra n\u00e4ki sen, niin h\u00e4n sanoi:\n\"Taivas varjelkoon minun herraani Arthur kuningasta ja Uriensia,\nsill\u00e4 nuo laivan neidot ovat pett\u00e4neet meid\u00e4t. He olivat paholaisia,\neiv\u00e4tk\u00e4 naisia, ja jos min\u00e4 vain hengiss\u00e4 suoriudun t\u00e4st\u00e4\nonnettomasta seikkailusta, niin surmaava olen min\u00e4 kaikki kavalat\nnoitaneidot, miss\u00e4 ikin\u00e4 heit\u00e4 tapaan.\"\nSilloin tuli h\u00e4nen luokseen k\u00e4\u00e4pi\u00f6, jolla oli suuri suu ja litte\u00e4\nnen\u00e4, ja h\u00e4n tervehti Accolon herraa ja sanoi, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n tuli Morgan\nle Fayn luota.\n\"H\u00e4n tervehtii teit\u00e4 ja pyyt\u00e4\u00e4 teit\u00e4 olemaan rohkealla mielell\u00e4,\nsill\u00e4 huomenna kello yhdeks\u00e4n aikaan te olette taisteleva er\u00e4\u00e4n\nritarin kanssa ja senvuoksi h\u00e4n l\u00e4hett\u00e4\u00e4 teille t\u00e4ss\u00e4 Arthurin\nmiekan, Excaliburin, ja huotran. H\u00e4n pyyt\u00e4\u00e4 teit\u00e4, jos h\u00e4nt\u00e4\nrakastatte, taistelemaan viimeiseen asti ja ilman s\u00e4\u00e4li\u00e4, aivan\nniinkuin h\u00e4nelle lupasitte, kun h\u00e4nen kanssaan salaisesti\nkeskustelitte. Ja siit\u00e4 neidosta, joka tuo h\u00e4nelle sen ritarin p\u00e4\u00e4n,\njonka kanssa te taistelette, siit\u00e4 h\u00e4n tekee kuningattaren.\"\n\"Kyll\u00e4 ymm\u00e4rr\u00e4n mit\u00e4 tarkoitatte\", Accolon sanoi. \"Ja min\u00e4 olen\npit\u00e4v\u00e4 lupaukseni, koska minulla on t\u00e4m\u00e4 miekka. Sulkekaa minut\narmollisen kuningattareni suosioon ja sanokaa h\u00e4nelle, ett\u00e4 olen\ntekev\u00e4 kaikki mit\u00e4 olen h\u00e4nelle luvannut, taikka muutoin olen\nkuoleva. Nytp\u00e4 ymm\u00e4rr\u00e4n\", h\u00e4n lis\u00e4si, \"ett\u00e4 Morgan le Fay on tehnyt\nkaikki n\u00e4m\u00e4 taiat tuon taistelun t\u00e4hden?\"\n\"Siit\u00e4 saatte olla varma\", sanoi k\u00e4\u00e4pi\u00f6.\nSitten tuli h\u00e4nen luokseen ritari ja lady ja kuusi asemiest\u00e4. Ja\nritari tervehti Accolon herraa, ja pyysi h\u00e4nt\u00e4 tulemaan kartanoonsa\nlep\u00e4\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n. Se ritari oli Ontzlake herra, Damas herran veli, jonka\nkanssa Arthur kuningas jo oli Damas herralle luvannut taistella. Niin\nAccolon nousi joutilaan ratsun selk\u00e4\u00e4n ja ratsasti ritarin keralla\nkauniiseen kartanoon, jonka vieress\u00e4 oli luostari, ja siell\u00e4 h\u00e4nt\u00e4\nkestittiin hyvin.\nSill\u00e4v\u00e4lin oli Damas herra l\u00e4hett\u00e4nyt veljelleen sanan, ett\u00e4 t\u00e4m\u00e4\nolisi valmis seuraavana p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 kello yhdeks\u00e4n aikaan ja saapuisi\ntaistelukent\u00e4lle taistelemaan er\u00e4\u00e4n ritarin kanssa, sill\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli\nl\u00f6yt\u00e4nyt kelpo ritarin, joka oli kaikin puolin valmis taistelemaan.\nKun t\u00e4m\u00e4 sanoma saapui Ontzlake herralle, niin h\u00e4n k\u00e4vi hyvin\nlevottomaksi, sill\u00e4 h\u00e4nt\u00e4 oli jo haavoitettu peitsell\u00e4 molempiin\nreisiin, mutta vammoistaan huolimatta h\u00e4n aikoi taistella. Mutta\nkun Accolon herra kuuli taistelusta ja kuinka Ontzlake herra oli\nhaavoitettu, niin h\u00e4n sanoi, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n tahtoi taistella h\u00e4nen\nedest\u00e4ns\u00e4, koska Morgan le Fay oli l\u00e4hett\u00e4nyt h\u00e4nelle Excaliburin\nja huotran, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n taistelisi tuon ritarin kanssa seuraavana\naamuna. Silloin Ontzlake herra riemastui suuresti ja kiitti kaikesta\nsyd\u00e4mest\u00e4\u00e4n Accolon herraa siit\u00e4 ett\u00e4 t\u00e4m\u00e4 tahtoi tehd\u00e4 niin paljo\nh\u00e4nen hyv\u00e4ksens\u00e4.\nSeuraavana aamuna, kun Arthur kuningas oli noussut ratsunsa selk\u00e4\u00e4n\nja oli valmis l\u00e4htem\u00e4\u00e4n taistelukent\u00e4lle, tuli h\u00e4nen luokseen neito,\njoka antoi h\u00e4nelle Excaliburin kaltaisen miekan ja huotran ja sanoi:\n\"Morgan le Fay l\u00e4hett\u00e4\u00e4 teille t\u00e4ss\u00e4 teid\u00e4n miekkanne ja rakkaan\ntervehdyksens\u00e4.\"\nArthur kiitti neitoa ja luuli ett\u00e4 niin oli laita, mutta neito oli\nkavala, sill\u00e4 miekka ja huotra olivat v\u00e4\u00e4rennetyt ja heikot ja\nhauraat.\nSitten Arthur kuningas ja Accolon herra asettuivat asentoon ja heid\u00e4n\nratsunsa sy\u00f6ksyiv\u00e4t niin rajusti yhteen, ett\u00e4 sek\u00e4 ratsut ett\u00e4 miehet\nsuistuivat maahan. Silloin molemmat ritarit hypp\u00e4siv\u00e4t pystyyn ja\npaljastivat miekkansa. Tuo ilke\u00e4 kuningatar oli loihtinut heid\u00e4t,\nniin ett'ei kumpainenkaan tuntenut toistansa. Mutta heid\u00e4n siten\ntaistellessaan tuli J\u00e4rven neito, joka oli pist\u00e4nyt Merlinin kiven\nalle, ja h\u00e4n tuli Arthurin t\u00e4hden, sill\u00e4 h\u00e4n tiesi ett\u00e4 Morgan le\nFay oli asettanut niin, ett\u00e4 Arthur sin\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 saisi surmansa.\nSenvuoksi Nimue tuli pelastamaan Arthurin henke\u00e4.\nNiin he taistelivat tulisesti ja iskiv\u00e4t monta ankaraa iskua. Mutta\nArthur kuninkaan miekka ei sattunut ensink\u00e4\u00e4n niinkuin Accolon\nherran; melkein jokainen isku, jonka Accolon iski, haavoitti\nvaarallisesti Arthuria, niin ett\u00e4 oli ihme ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n pysyi pystyss\u00e4,\nja virtana valui h\u00e4nen verens\u00e4. Kun Arthur n\u00e4ki, ett\u00e4 maa oli\nkokonaan veren peitt\u00e4m\u00e4, niin h\u00e4n pel\u00e4styi ja arvasi, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4nt\u00e4 oli\npetetty ja ett\u00e4 h\u00e4nen miekkansa oli vaihdettu. Sill\u00e4 h\u00e4nen miekkansa\nei purrut ensink\u00e4\u00e4n ter\u00e4st\u00e4, niinkuin oli ollut sen tapa ja sent\u00e4hden\nh\u00e4n pelk\u00e4si saavansa surmansa. H\u00e4nest\u00e4 n\u00e4ytti kuin se miekka, joka\noli Accolonin k\u00e4dess\u00e4, olisi ollut Excalibur, sill\u00e4 jokaisella\niskulla se vuodatti verta, mutta h\u00e4n oli niin ritarillinen, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n\nylev\u00e4sti k\u00e4rsi vaivansa. Ja kaikki miehet, jotka katselivat h\u00e4nt\u00e4,\nsanoivat ett'eiv\u00e4t he koskaan olleet kenenk\u00e4\u00e4n ritarin n\u00e4hneet niin\nhyvin taistelevan, kuin Arthur taisteli, katsoen siihen kuinka\nkovin h\u00e4n oli haavoitettu. Kaikki kansa oli murheissaan h\u00e4nen\nt\u00e4htens\u00e4, mutta molemmat veljekset, Damas herra ja Ontzlake herra,\neiv\u00e4t tahtoneet sopia, niin ett\u00e4 ritarit jatkoivat vain tulista\ntaisteluansa. Silloin yht'\u00e4kki\u00e4 Arthur kuninkaan miekka katkesi\nkahvan juuresta ja putosi ruohikkoon ja h\u00e4nen k\u00e4teens\u00e4 j\u00e4i vain\nmiekan kahva ja nuppi. Kun h\u00e4n sen n\u00e4ki, niin h\u00e4n pelk\u00e4si kovin\nsaavansa surmansa, mutta yh\u00e4 h\u00e4n vain piti kilpe\u00e4ns\u00e4 ylh\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4, eik\u00e4\nv\u00e4istynyt eik\u00e4 menett\u00e4nyt rohkeuttansa.\nKuinka Arthur kuningas sai takaisin oman miekkansa.\nKun Accolon herra n\u00e4ki, ett\u00e4 Arthur kuninkaan miekka oli katkennut,\nniin h\u00e4n koetti pakoittaa h\u00e4nt\u00e4 antautumaan.\n\"Ritari, sin\u00e4 olet voitettu etk\u00e4 saata en\u00e4\u00e4 kest\u00e4\u00e4, ja sin\u00e4 olet\nsit\u00e4paitsi aseeton ja olet menett\u00e4nyt paljo verta. Minun ei tee\nmieleni sinua surmata, antaudu sent\u00e4hden minun armoilleni.\"\n\"En\", Arthur sanoi, \"sit\u00e4 en voi tehd\u00e4, sill\u00e4 min\u00e4 olen luvannut\ntaistella _niin kauan kuin on elonkipin\u00e4\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n ruumiissani_. Ja\nsenvuoksi min\u00e4 ennemmin kuolen kunnialla kuin el\u00e4n h\u00e4pe\u00e4ll\u00e4. Ja\nvaikka voisi kuolla satoja kertoja, niin min\u00e4 ennemmin kuolisin\nniin monta kertaa, kuin antautuisin sinulle pelkurina, sill\u00e4 vaikka\nminulta puuttuu aseita, niin minulta ei ole puuttuva kunniaa, ja jos\nsin\u00e4 surmaat minut, aseettoman, niin se on oleva sinun oma h\u00e4pe\u00e4si.\"\n\"No niin\", sanoi Accolon, \"siit\u00e4 h\u00e4pe\u00e4st\u00e4 en tahdo s\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4\u00e4 itse\u00e4ni.\nPysy erill\u00e4si minusta, sill\u00e4 sin\u00e4 olet kuoleman oma.\" Ja niin\nsanoessaan h\u00e4n antoi Arthurille sellaisen iskun, ett\u00e4 t\u00e4m\u00e4 melkein\ntupertui maahan, ja h\u00e4n toivoi ett\u00e4 Arthur huutaisi armoa.\nMutta kuningas rynt\u00e4si Accolonia kohden ja sys\u00e4si h\u00e4nt\u00e4 niin\nvoimakkaasti katkenneen miekan nupilla, ett\u00e4 ritari hoiperteli kolme\naskeletta takaperin.\nKun J\u00e4rven neito katseli Arthuria ja n\u00e4ki, kuinka uljas h\u00e4n oli ja\nkuinka h\u00e4nt\u00e4 kavaluudella koetettiin saada surmatuksi, niin h\u00e4nt\u00e4\nkovin s\u00e4\u00e4litti, ett\u00e4 niin uljaan ritarin ja jalon miehen piti joutua\nperikatoon. Ja h\u00e4nen taikomisensa kautta miekka putosi seuraavalla\niskulla maahan Accolonin k\u00e4dest\u00e4. Ja Arthur juoksi nopeasti sen luo\nja otti sen k\u00e4teens\u00e4 ja tunsi heti, ett\u00e4 se oli h\u00e4nen oma miekkansa\nExcalibur.\n\"Liian kauan sin\u00e4 olet ollut poissa minun luotani\", h\u00e4n huusi, \"ja\npaljon pahaa sin\u00e4 olet minulle tehnyt.\"\nSitten h\u00e4n huomasi huotran, joka riippui Accolonin sivulla, ja \u00e4kki\u00e4\nrynt\u00e4si h\u00e4n Accolonin kimppuun ja tarttui huotraan ja tempasi sen\nniin kauaksi kuin saattoi.\n\"Oi ritari\", h\u00e4n sanoi, \"nyt sin\u00e4 olet kuoleman oma, sill\u00e4 min\u00e4\ntakaan, ett\u00e4 t\u00e4m\u00e4 miekka on maksava sinulle moninkerroin kaikki ne\niskut, mitk\u00e4 min\u00e4 olen saanut.\" Ja h\u00e4n karkasi koko voimallaan h\u00e4nen\nkimppuunsa ja paiskasi h\u00e4net maahan ja halkasi h\u00e4nen kyp\u00e4rins\u00e4 ja\nantoi h\u00e4nelle sellaisen iskun p\u00e4\u00e4h\u00e4n, ett\u00e4 se melkein tappoi h\u00e4net.\n\"Nyt min\u00e4 surmaan sinut\", Arthur sanoi.\n\"Surmata minut kyll\u00e4 saatte, jos teit\u00e4 haluttaa\", Accolon sanoi,\n\"sill\u00e4 te olette paras ritari, mit\u00e4 min\u00e4 milloinkaan olen tavannut,\nja min\u00e4 n\u00e4en, ett\u00e4 Jumala on teid\u00e4n kanssanne. Mutta koska min\u00e4\nolen luvannut taistella viimeiseen asti, enk\u00e4 mill\u00e4\u00e4n ehdolla tahdo\nantautua el\u00e4v\u00e4n\u00e4, niin sent\u00e4hden minun suuni ei ole ikin\u00e4 pyyt\u00e4v\u00e4\narmoa, vaan Jumala tehk\u00f6\u00f6n minun ruumiillani, mit\u00e4 H\u00e4n hyv\u00e4ksi n\u00e4kee.\"\nSilloin Arthur kuningas muistutteli, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli varmaankin n\u00e4hnyt\ntuon ritarin.\n\"Sano minulle\", h\u00e4n virkkoi, \"taikka min\u00e4 tapan sinut, mist\u00e4 maasta\nsin\u00e4 olet ja mist\u00e4 hovista.\"\n\"Herra ritari\", Accolon herra sanoi, \"min\u00e4 olen Arthur kuninkaan\nhovista ja minun nimeni on Gaulin Accolon.\"\nSilloin Arthur pel\u00e4styi viel\u00e4 enemm\u00e4n kuin ennen, sill\u00e4 h\u00e4n muisti\nsisartansa Morgan le Fayta ja laivan taikaa.\n\"Oi herra ritari\", h\u00e4n sanoi, \"pyyd\u00e4n, sanokaa minulle kuka teille\nt\u00e4m\u00e4n miekan antoi.\"\nSilloin Accolon herra kertoi h\u00e4nelle, kuinka Morgan le Fay oli\nl\u00e4hett\u00e4nyt sen h\u00e4nelle sit\u00e4 varten ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n surmaisi h\u00e4nen veljens\u00e4\nArthur kuninkaan. Sill\u00e4 Arthur kuningasta Morgan le Fay enin vihasi\nmaan p\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 h\u00e4nen kuntonsa ja suuren maineensa t\u00e4hden. Ja jos h\u00e4nen\nonnistuisi tappaa Arthur loitsujensa avulla, niin h\u00e4n samoin surmaisi\npuolisonsa ja sitten Accolonista tulisi maan kuningas ja Morgan le\nFaysta kuningatar.\n\"Mutta nyt siit\u00e4 ei tule mit\u00e4\u00e4n\", sanoi Accolon, \"sill\u00e4 min\u00e4 olen\nvarma kuolemastani. Mutta kun min\u00e4 nyt olen kertonut teille totuuden,\nniin pyyd\u00e4n teit\u00e4kin sanomaan, milt\u00e4 seudulta te olette ja mist\u00e4\nhovista.\"\n\"Oi Accolon\", Arthur sanoi, \"tied\u00e4 siis, ett\u00e4 min\u00e4 olen Arthur\nkuningas, jolle sin\u00e4 olet paljon pahaa tehnyt.\"\nKun Accolon sen kuuli, niin h\u00e4n huusi korkealla \u00e4\u00e4nell\u00e4:\n\"Jalo laupias herra, armahtakaa minua, sill\u00e4 min\u00e4 en tuntenut teit\u00e4!\"\n\"Kyll\u00e4 armahdan sinua, Accolon herra\", Arthur sanoi, \"sill\u00e4 min\u00e4\nn\u00e4en, ett\u00e4 sin\u00e4 nyt vasta minut tunnet. Mutta min\u00e4 huomaan sinun\nsanoistasi, ett\u00e4 sin\u00e4 olet suostunut minun kuolemaani ja sent\u00e4hden\nsin\u00e4 olet petturi; mutta min\u00e4 en tahdo syytt\u00e4\u00e4 sinua siit\u00e4, sill\u00e4\nminun sisareni Morgan le Fay on kavalilla keinoillaan saanut sinut\nsuostumaan ilkeyteens\u00e4.\"\nSitten Arthur kuningas kutsui taistelun tarkastajat ja kertoi heille\nmit\u00e4 oli tapahtunut.\n\"Jos kumpikaan meist\u00e4 olisi tuntenut toisensa, niin ei t\u00e4ss\u00e4 olisi\niskuakaan isketty\", h\u00e4n sanoi.\nSitten Accolon herra huusi korkealla \u00e4\u00e4nell\u00e4 kaikille ritareille ja\nmiehille, jotka olivat sinne kokoontuneet: \"Oi herrat, t\u00e4m\u00e4 jalo\nritari, jonka kanssa min\u00e4 olen taistellut, mit\u00e4 min\u00e4 suuresti kadun,\non miehuullisin ja kunnianarvoisin mies maan p\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4, sill\u00e4 h\u00e4n on\nitse Arthur kuningas, meid\u00e4n kaikkien armollisin l\u00e4\u00e4niherramme!\"\nSilloin kaikki kansa lankesi polvillensa ja huusi armoa, ja sen\nkuningas heille heti lupasikin.\nSitten h\u00e4n meni ratkaisemaan noiden molempien veljesten v\u00e4list\u00e4\nriitaa, jonka vuoksi h\u00e4n ja Accolon herra olivat taistelleet. Koska\nDamas herra oli kopea ritari ja t\u00e4ynn\u00e4 ilkeytt\u00e4, niin Arthur m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4si\nh\u00e4nen antamaan nuoremmalle veljellens\u00e4 kartanon ja kaikki mit\u00e4 siihen\nkuului, ja Ontzlake herran sen sijaan antamaan h\u00e4nelle vuosittain\nparaatihevosen ratsastettavaksi, sill\u00e4 se sopisi h\u00e4nelle paremmin\nkuin sotaratsu. Ja kuoleman uhalla kiellettiin Damas herraa koskaan\nh\u00e4iritsem\u00e4st\u00e4 ket\u00e4\u00e4n vaeltavaa ritaria, joka kulki seikkailuillaan.\nJa niille kahdellekymmenelle ritarille, joita h\u00e4n oli niin kauan\npit\u00e4nyt vankeudessa, h\u00e4nen t\u00e4ytyi antaa takaisin kaikki heid\u00e4n\naseensa ja varuksensa.\n\"Ja jos joku heist\u00e4 tulee minun hoviini ja valittaa sinusta, niin\njumalauta sen saat maksaa hengell\u00e4si\", sanoi kuningas.\n\"Ja kuulkaa te, Ontzlake herra, koska teit\u00e4 sanotaan uljaaksi ja\nkunnon ritariksi ja rehelliseksi ja hyv\u00e4ntahtoiseksi kaikissa\nteoissanne, niin t\u00e4m\u00e4 olkoon teid\u00e4n teht\u00e4v\u00e4nne: min\u00e4 pyyd\u00e4n teit\u00e4,\nett\u00e4 te niin pian kuin suinkin tulette minun luokseni ja minun\nhoviini, ja teist\u00e4 on tuleva minun ritarini, ja jos teid\u00e4n tekonne\npysyv\u00e4t edelleenkin samallaisina, niin min\u00e4 olen Jumalan avulla niin\nteid\u00e4t ylent\u00e4v\u00e4, ett\u00e4 te ennen pitk\u00e4\u00e4 saatte el\u00e4\u00e4 yht\u00e4 komeasti kuin\nDamas herra konsanaan.\"\nSitten Arthur kuningas ja Accolon herra ratsastivat l\u00e4hell\u00e4 olevaan\nrikkaaseen luostariin lep\u00e4\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n ja sidottamaan haavojansa, ja pian\nkuningas kokonaan parani. Mutta Accolon herra kuoli nelj\u00e4n p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\nkuluessa, sill\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli vaikeasti haavoittunut.\nKun Accolon oli kuollut, niin kuningas l\u00e4hetti h\u00e4net hevospaareilla\nkuuden ritarin saattamana Camelotiin ja sanoi:\n\"Viek\u00e4\u00e4 h\u00e4net minun sisarelleni Morgan le Faylle ja sanokaa, ett\u00e4\nmin\u00e4 l\u00e4het\u00e4n h\u00e4net lahjaksi h\u00e4nelle, ja ilmoittakaa h\u00e4nelle, ett\u00e4\nmin\u00e4 olen saanut miekkani Excaliburin ja huotran.\"\nJalokivi viitta.\nKun sanoma saapui Morgan le Faylle, ett\u00e4 Accolon oli kaatunut ja ett\u00e4\nArthurilla taas oli miekkansa, niin h\u00e4n tuli niin murheelliseksi,\nett\u00e4 h\u00e4nen syd\u00e4mens\u00e4 oli s\u00e4rky\u00e4. Mutta kun h\u00e4n ei tahtonut saattaa\nsit\u00e4 muiden tietoon, niin h\u00e4n s\u00e4ilytti ulkonaisesti tyyneytens\u00e4 eik\u00e4\nn\u00e4ytt\u00e4nyt surun merkki\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n. Mutta h\u00e4n tiesi hyvin, ett\u00e4 jos h\u00e4n\nodottaisi alallansa, kunnes h\u00e4nen veljens\u00e4 Arthur tulisi, niin ei\nkulta eik\u00e4 kalliit kivet voisi pelastaa h\u00e4nen henke\u00e4ns\u00e4, sill\u00e4 Arthur\noli vannonut kostavansa.\nSent\u00e4hden h\u00e4n meni Guinevere kuningattaren luokse ja pyysi h\u00e4nelt\u00e4\nlupaa ratsastaa edemm\u00e4ksi valtakuntaan.\n\"Voittehan odottaa\", Guinevere kuningatar sanoi, \"siksi kun teid\u00e4n\nveljenne kuningas tulee.\"\n\"Sit\u00e4 en voi\", sanoi Morgan le Fay, \"sill\u00e4 min\u00e4 olen saanut niin\nkiireelliset sanomat, ett\u00e4 min\u00e4 en voi viivytell\u00e4.\"\n\"Vai niin\", Guinevere sanoi, \"l\u00e4htek\u00e4\u00e4 sitten milloin tahdotte.\"\nNiin aamulla varhain ennen p\u00e4iv\u00e4n tuloa Morgan le Fay otti hevosensa,\nja ratsasti koko sen p\u00e4iv\u00e4n ja suurimman osan y\u00f6t\u00e4kin, ja seuraavana\naamuna puolenp\u00e4iv\u00e4n aikaan h\u00e4n saapui samaan luostariin, jossa Arthur\noli. Koska h\u00e4n tiesi ett\u00e4 kuningas oli siell\u00e4, niin h\u00e4n kysyi, kuinka\nh\u00e4n voi, ja h\u00e4nelle vastattiin, ett\u00e4 kuningas nukkui vuoteessansa,\nsill\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli saanut vain v\u00e4h\u00e4n lepoa n\u00e4in\u00e4 kolmena y\u00f6n\u00e4.\n\"Vai niin\", sanoi Morgan le Fay, \"\u00e4lk\u00f6\u00f6n kukaan teist\u00e4 her\u00e4tt\u00e4k\u00f6\nh\u00e4nt\u00e4, ennenkuin min\u00e4 sen teen.\"\nSitten h\u00e4n hypp\u00e4si alas hevosensa sel\u00e4st\u00e4 ja aikoi ry\u00f6st\u00e4\u00e4 Arthurilta\nh\u00e4nen miekkansa Excaliburin. Niin h\u00e4n meni suoraan h\u00e4nen huoneeseensa\neik\u00e4 kukaan uskaltanut olla tottelematta h\u00e4nen k\u00e4sky\u00e4ns\u00e4, ja\nsiell\u00e4 h\u00e4n tapasi Arthurin makaamassa vuoteessansa ja Excalibur\noli paljastettuna h\u00e4nen oikeassa k\u00e4dess\u00e4ns\u00e4. Kun Morgan le Fay sen\nn\u00e4ki, niin h\u00e4nt\u00e4 kiukutti kovin ett'ei h\u00e4n voinut saada miekkaa\nher\u00e4tt\u00e4m\u00e4tt\u00e4 Arthuria ja h\u00e4n tiesi ett\u00e4 jos h\u00e4n niin tekisi, niin se\nolisi h\u00e4nen kuolemansa. Niin h\u00e4n otti huotran ja meni matkoihinsa\nhevosensa sel\u00e4ss\u00e4.\nKun kuningas her\u00e4si ja n\u00e4ki ett\u00e4 huotra oli poissa, niin h\u00e4n vihastui\nkovasti ja kysyi, kuka oli ollut h\u00e4nen huoneessansa. H\u00e4nelle\nkerrottiin ett\u00e4 siell\u00e4 oli k\u00e4ynyt h\u00e4nen sisarensa Morgan le Fay, joka\noli pist\u00e4nyt huotran vaippansa alle ja mennyt menojaan.\n\"Voi teit\u00e4\", Arthur sanoi, \"huonosti te olette minua vartioineet!\"\n\"Herra\", sanoivat he kaikki, \"me emme uskaltaneet olla tottelematta\nteid\u00e4n sisarenne k\u00e4sky\u00e4.\"\n\"Tuokaa parhain ratsu, mik\u00e4 on saatavissa\", kuningas sanoi, \"ja\nk\u00e4skek\u00e4\u00e4 Ontzlake herran kiireesti asestautua ja ottaa toinen hyv\u00e4\nratsu ja tulla minun kanssani.\"\nNiin kuningas ja Ontzlake asestautuivat nopeasti ja ratsastivat\nMorgan le Fayn per\u00e4\u00e4n. Pian he tapasivat karjanpaimenen, jolta he\nkysyiv\u00e4t, oliko kukaan lady hiljattain ratsastanut sit\u00e4 tiet\u00e4.\n\"Herra,\" sanoi tuo k\u00f6yh\u00e4 ukko, \"juuri ik\u00e4\u00e4n kulki t\u00e4st\u00e4 muuan lady\nratsastaen nelj\u00e4nkymmenen hevosmiehen keralla, ja h\u00e4n ratsasti tuonne\nmets\u00e4\u00e4n.\"\nSilloin he kannustivat hevosiansa ja ratsastivat kiivaasti h\u00e4nen\nper\u00e4\u00e4ns\u00e4, ja hetken kuluttua Arthur sai n\u00e4kyviins\u00e4 Morgan le Fayn,\nja silloin h\u00e4n viel\u00e4 kiivaammin kiirehti ratsuansa. Kun Morgan le\nFay huomasi, ett\u00e4 Arthur ajoi h\u00e4nt\u00e4 takaa, niin h\u00e4n riensi mets\u00e4n\nl\u00e4pi, kunnes h\u00e4n saapui aukealla paikalle. Ja kun h\u00e4n n\u00e4ki ett'ei\nh\u00e4n voinut p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 pakoon, niin h\u00e4n ratsasti l\u00e4hell\u00e4 olevan j\u00e4rven\nrannalle ja sanoi: \"K\u00e4yk\u00f6\u00f6n minun kuinka tahansa, mutta veljeni ei\nole saava t\u00e4t\u00e4 huotraa.\" Ja h\u00e4n heitti sen syvimp\u00e4\u00e4n veteen, niin\nett\u00e4 se vaipui pohjaan, sill\u00e4 se oli raskas kullasta ja kalliista\nkivist\u00e4.\nSitten h\u00e4n ratsasti laaksoon, jossa oli paljo suuria kivi\u00e4, ja kun\nh\u00e4n n\u00e4ki ett\u00e4 h\u00e4net saataisiin kiinni, niin h\u00e4n muutti itsens\u00e4\ntaikakeinoillaan suureksi rnarmorikiveksi. Kun kuningas Ontzlaken\nkeralla saapui paikalle, ei h\u00e4n tuntenut sisartansa eik\u00e4 t\u00e4m\u00e4n miehi\u00e4.\n\"Ah\", kuningas sanoi, \"t\u00e4ss\u00e4 n\u00e4ette Jumalan koston, ja minua\nmurhetuttaa kovin, ett\u00e4 t\u00e4m\u00e4 onnettomuus on tapahtunut.\"\nSitten h\u00e4n haki huotraa, mutta sit\u00e4 ei n\u00e4kynyt miss\u00e4\u00e4n. Ja niin h\u00e4n\npalasi luostariin, josta h\u00e4n oli tullutkin.\nKun Arthur oli mennyt, niin Morgan le Fay muutti itsens\u00e4 ja kaikki\nritarinsa entiseen muotoonsa ja sanoi: \"Herrat, nyt me saamme menn\u00e4,\nminne tahdomme.\"\nNiin h\u00e4n l\u00e4hti Goren maahan ja h\u00e4net otettiin siell\u00e4 komeasti\nvastaan. Ja h\u00e4n teki linnansa ja kaupunkinsa niin lujiksi kuin\nsaattoi, sill\u00e4 yh\u00e4 h\u00e4n kovin pelk\u00e4si Arthur kuningasta.\nKun kuningas oli tarpeeksi lev\u00e4nnyt luostarissa, niin h\u00e4n ratsasti\nCamelotiin ja h\u00e4nen kuningattarensa ja parooninsa iloitsivat\nsuuresti h\u00e4nen tulostansa. Ja kun he kuulivat h\u00e4nen kummallisista\nseikkailuistansa, niin he kaikki ihmetteliv\u00e4t Morgan le Fayn\nkavaluutta, ja h\u00e4nen h\u00e4ijyjen taikomistensa t\u00e4hden moni ritari\ntoivoi, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4net olisi el\u00e4v\u00e4lt\u00e4 poltettu.\nSeuraavana p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 tuli Arthurin luo muuan neito Morganin l\u00e4hett\u00e4m\u00e4n\u00e4\nja h\u00e4n toi mukanaan komeimman viitan kuin koskaan oli n\u00e4hty siin\u00e4\nhovissa, sill\u00e4 se oli niin t\u00e4ynn\u00e4 kalliita kivi\u00e4, kuin niit\u00e4 vain\nmahtui vierekk\u00e4in, ja ne olivat kauneimpia ja kallisarvoisimpia kivi\u00e4\nmit\u00e4 kuningas koskaan oli n\u00e4hnyt.\n\"Teid\u00e4n sisarenne l\u00e4hett\u00e4\u00e4 teille t\u00e4m\u00e4n viitan ja toivoo ett\u00e4 te\notatte vastaan t\u00e4m\u00e4n h\u00e4nen lahjansa, ja te olette saava h\u00e4nelt\u00e4\nhyvityst\u00e4 mielenne mukaan siit\u00e4, miss\u00e4 h\u00e4n on teit\u00e4 vastaan rikkonut.\"\nKun kuningas n\u00e4ki viitan, miellytti se h\u00e4nt\u00e4 suuresti, mutta h\u00e4n\npuhui vain v\u00e4h\u00e4n.\nSill\u00e4 hetkell\u00e4 tuli J\u00e4rven neito kuninkaan luokse ja sanoi: \"Herra,\nminun t\u00e4ytyy puhua teid\u00e4n kanssanne kahden kesken.\"\n\"Sanokaa vain\", kuningas virkkoi, \"mit\u00e4 tahdotte.\"\n\"Herra\", sanoi neito, \"\u00e4lk\u00e4\u00e4 mill\u00e4\u00e4n muotoa panko tuota viittaa\np\u00e4\u00e4llenne, ennenkuin olette n\u00e4hnyt enemm\u00e4n, \u00e4lk\u00e4\u00e4k\u00e4 antako sit\u00e4 panna\nkenenk\u00e4\u00e4n ritarinne p\u00e4\u00e4lle, ennenkuin olette k\u00e4skenyt sen tuojan\npanna sen p\u00e4\u00e4llens\u00e4.\"\n\"Hyv\u00e4\", sanoi Arthur kuningas, \"tahdon tehd\u00e4, niinkuin te neuvotte.\"\nSitten h\u00e4n sanoi sille neidolle, jonka h\u00e4nen sisarensa oli\nl\u00e4hett\u00e4nyt: \"Neito, tahdon n\u00e4hd\u00e4 teid\u00e4n p\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4nne t\u00e4m\u00e4n viitan, jonka\nolette tuonut.\"\n\"Herra\", sanoi neito, \"ei minun sovi kantaa kuninkaan pukua.\"\n\"Jumalauta\", Arthur sanoi, \"sinun on pit\u00e4minen sit\u00e4 viittaa,\nennenkuin min\u00e4 tai kukaan minun miehist\u00e4ni panemme sen hartioillemme.\"\nNiin viitta pantiin neidon p\u00e4\u00e4lle, ja samalla hetkell\u00e4 h\u00e4n kaatui\nkuolleena maahan, eik\u00e4 puhunut en\u00e4\u00e4 sanaakaan, sill\u00e4 h\u00e4n paloi\ntuhaksi.\nSilloin Arthur vihastui kauheasti, viel\u00e4 enemm\u00e4n kuin ennen, ja h\u00e4n\nsanoi Uriens kuninkaalle:\n\"Minun sisareni, teid\u00e4n puolisonne, koettaa yh\u00e4 vain pett\u00e4\u00e4 minua,\nja min\u00e4 tied\u00e4n kyll\u00e4 ett\u00e4 joko te taikka teid\u00e4n poikanne, minun\nsisarenpoikani, olette yksiss\u00e4 neuvoin h\u00e4nen kanssansa saattaaksenne\nminut turmioon. Mutta teid\u00e4n en sent\u00e4\u00e4n luule olevan h\u00e4nen\nliitossaan, sill\u00e4 Accolon tunnusti minulle omalla suullansa, ett\u00e4\nh\u00e4n aikoi surmata teid\u00e4tkin, niinkuin minut, ja sent\u00e4hden annan min\u00e4\nteille anteeksi. Mutta teid\u00e4n poikaanne, Uwaine herraa, min\u00e4 pid\u00e4n\nep\u00e4ilt\u00e4v\u00e4n\u00e4, ja k\u00e4sken teit\u00e4 sent\u00e4hden ajamaan h\u00e4net pois minun\nhovistani.\"\nNiin Uwaine herra karkoitettiin.\nKun Gawaine herra, Lot kuninkaan poika, sai sen tiet\u00e4\u00e4, niin h\u00e4n\nvalmistautui my\u00f6s l\u00e4htem\u00e4\u00e4n h\u00e4nen kanssansa.\n\"Joka karkoittaa minun serkkuni, karkoittakoon minutkin\", h\u00e4n\nvirkkoi, ja niin he molemmat l\u00e4htiv\u00e4t.\nKun Arthur huomasi ett\u00e4 Gawaine herra oli j\u00e4tt\u00e4nyt hovin, niin suuri\nsuru nousi kaikkien lordien kesken.\nJa Gawainen veli, Gaheris, virkkoi: \"niin me nyt menetimme kaksi\nkelpo ritaria yhden sijasta.\"\nUni lohik\u00e4\u00e4rmeest\u00e4 ja karjusta.\nPitk\u00e4n sotansa j\u00e4lkeen Arthur kuningas lep\u00e4si ja piti komeita pitoja\nliittolaiskuninkaittensa ja prinssiens\u00e4 ja jalojen ritariensa\nkanssa, jotka kaikki kuuluivat Py\u00f6re\u00e4\u00e4n p\u00f6yt\u00e4\u00e4n. Ja kun h\u00e4n istui\nkuninkaallisella valtaistuimellaan, niin saliin astui kaksitoista\nvanhusta, joilla oli kaikilla oliivin oksa k\u00e4dess\u00e4, merkkin\u00e4\nsiit\u00e4 ett\u00e4 he tulivat Rooman keisarin Luciuksen l\u00e4hettil\u00e4in\u00e4 ja\nsanansaattajina. Kumarrettuaan kuninkaalle, he ilmoittivat h\u00e4nelle\nLucius keisarin tervehdyksen ja k\u00e4skiv\u00e4t Arthuria tunnustamaan\nh\u00e4net herrakseen ja maksamaan sit\u00e4 veroa, joka Englannilta oli\ntuleva Roomalle, niinkuin h\u00e4nen is\u00e4ns\u00e4 ja edelt\u00e4j\u00e4ns\u00e4kin ennen\nolivat tehneet. Jollei h\u00e4n suostuisi siihen, niin keisari oli tekev\u00e4\nsuuren sotaretken h\u00e4nt\u00e4, h\u00e4nen valtakuntiaan ja alamaisiaan vastaan,\nikuiseksi varoitukseksi kaikille kuninkaille ja ruhtinaille, jotka\nuskaltaisivat kielt\u00e4yty\u00e4 maksamasta veroa Roomalle, koko maailman\nvaltiaalle.\nKun he olivat esitt\u00e4neet asiansa, niin kuningas k\u00e4ski heid\u00e4n\npoistua ja kutsui kokoon kaikki lordinsa ja Py\u00f6re\u00e4n p\u00f6yd\u00e4n ritarit\nneuvottelemaan asiasta ja lausumaan siit\u00e4 mielipiteens\u00e4. He sanoivat\nkaikki, ett\u00e4 veron vaatiminen oli kohtuutonta, ja jokainen heist\u00e4 oli\nvalmis sotimaan ja auttamaan kuningasta voimiensa mukaan. Skotlannin\nkuningas, V\u00e4h\u00e4n-Britannian kuningas ja l\u00e4ntisen Walesin herra\nlupasivat kaikki miehi\u00e4 ja rahaa, ja Lancelot herra ja muut ritarit\nlupasivat samoin. Kun Arthur kuningas n\u00e4ki heid\u00e4n uljuutensa ja hyv\u00e4n\ntahtonsa, niin h\u00e4n kiitti heit\u00e4 syd\u00e4mellisesti. Ja l\u00e4hettil\u00e4ille\nannettiin runsaasti lahjoja ja heid\u00e4t l\u00e4hetettiin takaisin Roomaan\nsen vastauksen kera, ett\u00e4 Arthur kuningas ei ollut velvollinen\nmaksamaan veroa kenellek\u00e4\u00e4n maalliselle ruhtinaalle, ei kristitylle\neik\u00e4 pakanalle, h\u00e4nelle oli Englannin valtakunnan herruus kuuluva\nh\u00e4nen edelt\u00e4jiens\u00e4 oikeuksien mukaan ja h\u00e4n oli p\u00e4\u00e4tt\u00e4nyt tulla\nsuuren ja mahtavan sotajoukon kanssa Roomaan valloittaakseen Jumalan\narmollisella avulla keisarikunnan ja kukistaakseen niskoittelijat.\nKun l\u00e4hettil\u00e4\u00e4t palasivat tuoden sen sanoman Lucius keisarille, niin\nh\u00e4n l\u00e4hetti kokoomaan sotamiehi\u00e4 yli koko maailman, kaikista Rooman\nkeisarikunnan alusmaista. Niin suuri joukko kuninkaita ja herttuoita\nja sotap\u00e4\u00e4llik\u00f6it\u00e4 ja tuhansittain kansaa kokoontui Rooman ymp\u00e4rille.\nJa sit\u00e4paitsi keisarilla oli luonaan viisikymment\u00e4 j\u00e4ttil\u00e4ist\u00e4,\njoiden oli m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4 h\u00e4nt\u00e4 suojella ja murtaa Arthur kuninkaan joukon\nrintama.\nSill\u00e4v\u00e4lin Arthur kuningas piti Yorkissa parlamenttia ja m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4si,\nett\u00e4 h\u00e4nen poissa ollessaan Guinevere kuningatarta ja valtakuntaa\npiti hallitseman Britannian Baldwin herran ja Constantine herran,\nCornwallin Cador herran pojan, josta is\u00e4ns\u00e4 kuoleman j\u00e4lkeen\ntuli valtakunnan kuningas. Sitten Arthur kuningas l\u00e4hti kaikkine\njoukkoineen ja purjehti Sandwichista monilukuisine laivoineen,\nkaleereineen, venheineen ja sotamiehineen.\nJa kun kuningas makasi hytiss\u00e4\u00e4n laivassa, niin h\u00e4n vaipui uneen ja\nn\u00e4ki ihmeellisen unen. H\u00e4nest\u00e4 n\u00e4ytti ett\u00e4 kauhea lohik\u00e4\u00e4rme tuhosi\npaljo h\u00e4nen v\u00e4ke\u00e4ns\u00e4, ja se tuli lent\u00e4en l\u00e4nnest\u00e4 p\u00e4in. Sen p\u00e4\u00e4 oli\nsilattu taivaansiniseksi, ja sen lavat loistivat kuin kulta, sen\nruumis oli kuin ihmeellisen v\u00e4rinen panssari, sen pyrst\u00f6st\u00e4 riippui\nriekaleita, sen jalat olivat sopulinnahan peitt\u00e4m\u00e4t ja sen kynnet\nkiilsiv\u00e4t kuin kirkas kulta. Hirve\u00e4 liekki leiskui ulos sen suusta,\nik\u00e4\u00e4nkuin kaikki maa ja meri olisi tulessa leimunnut.\nSen j\u00e4lkeen tuli id\u00e4st\u00e4 p\u00e4in hirmuinen karju suuressa pilvess\u00e4. Sen\nsorkat olivat isot kuin pylv\u00e4\u00e4t, se oli takkuinen ja inhoittavan\nn\u00e4k\u00f6inen, rumin el\u00e4in mit\u00e4 n\u00e4hd\u00e4 saattoi, ja se r\u00f6hki ja karjui niin\nkamalasti, ett\u00e4 sit\u00e4 oli oikein kauhea kuulla.\nSilloin tuo pelottava lohik\u00e4\u00e4rme l\u00e4hestyi ja alkoi tapella karjun\nkanssa, ja karju iski siihen torahampaillaan niin ett\u00e4 meri tuli\naivan punaiseksi verest\u00e4. Mutta viimein lohik\u00e4\u00e4rme hakkasi karjun\nm\u00e4s\u00e4ksi, sek\u00e4 luut ett\u00e4 lihat, niin ett\u00e4 kappaleet ajelehtivat pitkin\nmerta.\nSilloin Arthur kuningas her\u00e4si ja oli aivan ymm\u00e4ll\u00e4 tuon unen t\u00e4hden,\nja h\u00e4n l\u00e4hetti heti hakemaan er\u00e4st\u00e4 viisasta filosofia ja k\u00e4ski h\u00e4nen\nsanoa, mit\u00e4 se merkitsi.\n\"Herra\", sanoi filosofi, \"se lohik\u00e4\u00e4rme, josta sin\u00e4 uneksit,\ntarkoittaa sinua itse\u00e4si ja sen siipien v\u00e4ri niit\u00e4 valtakuntia,\njotka sin\u00e4 olet valloittanut, ja sen pyrst\u00f6, joka oli ryysyjen\npeitossa, tarkoittaa Py\u00f6re\u00e4n p\u00f6yd\u00e4n jaloja ritareita. Ja karju, jonka\nlohik\u00e4\u00e4rme tappoi ja joka tuli pilvist\u00e4, tarkoittaa jotain tyrannia,\njoka kiusaa kansaa, taikka muutoin n\u00e4yt\u00e4t sin\u00e4 joutuvan taistelemaan\nj\u00e4ttil\u00e4isen kanssa, jonka vertaa et koskaan ole n\u00e4hnyt. Sent\u00e4hden\n\u00e4l\u00e4 ensink\u00e4\u00e4n pelk\u00e4\u00e4 tuon hirve\u00e4n unen t\u00e4hden, vaan kulje sin\u00e4 vain\nvoittajana eteenp\u00e4in.\"\nPian senj\u00e4lkeen kun Arthur kuningas oli n\u00e4hnyt unta lohik\u00e4\u00e4rmeest\u00e4\nja karjusta, saavuttiin Ranskan maalle, ja siell\u00e4 muuan talonpoika\ntuli Arthurin luo ja kertoi h\u00e4nelle, ett\u00e4 jo seitsem\u00e4n vuotta hirve\u00e4\nj\u00e4ttil\u00e4inen oli h\u00e4vitt\u00e4nyt Brittanyn maata ja tappanut ja sy\u00f6nyt\nsuuhunsa paljo maan kansaa. Hiljattain oli h\u00e4n ry\u00f6st\u00e4nyt Brittanyn\nherttuattarenkin, kun t\u00e4m\u00e4 oli seurueineen ratsastamassa, ja oli\nvienyt h\u00e4net asuntoonsa, joka oli er\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4 vuoressa, pit\u00e4\u00e4kseen\nh\u00e4nt\u00e4 siell\u00e4 el\u00e4m\u00e4ns\u00e4 loppuun asti. Paljo kansaa oli seurannut\nherttuatarta, enemm\u00e4n kuin viisisataa, mutta eiv\u00e4t he kaikki\nyhdess\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n voineet h\u00e4nt\u00e4 pelastaa.\n\"H\u00e4n oli sinun serkkusi, Howell herttuan puoliso, h\u00e4nen, jota\nkutsumme sinun l\u00e4heiseksi sukulaiseksesi\", virkkoi mies lopuksi, \"ja\nkoska sin\u00e4 olet hurskas kuningas, niin s\u00e4\u00e4li tuota lady\u00e4, ja koska\nsin\u00e4 olet suuri sankari, niin kosta meid\u00e4n kaikkien puolestamme.\"\n\"Voi\", Arthur kuningas sanoi, \"se on suuri onnettomuus! Parhaimman\nvaltakuntani menett\u00e4minen minua v\u00e4hemm\u00e4n surettaisi, kuin ett'en\nenn\u00e4tt\u00e4nyt tulla v\u00e4h\u00e4n ennemmin tuota lady\u00e4 pelastamaan. No, mies,\nvoitkos vied\u00e4 minut sinne miss\u00e4 tuo j\u00e4ttil\u00e4inen asustaa?\"\n\"Kyll\u00e4, herra\", tuo kunnon ukko sanoi, \"katso tuonne miss\u00e4 n\u00e4et nuo\nmolemmat isot tulet palavan, sielt\u00e4 sin\u00e4 h\u00e4net l\u00f6yd\u00e4t ja aarteita\nenemm\u00e4n kuin luulen olevan koko Ranskan maassa.\"\nKun kuningas oli kuullut tuon surkean tapauksen, niin h\u00e4n palasi\ntelttaansa. Ja h\u00e4n kutsui luokseen Kay herran ja Bedivere herran ja\nk\u00e4ski heid\u00e4n kaikessa hiljaisuudessa asettaa kuntoon h\u00e4nen ja omat\nratsunsa ja varuksensa, sill\u00e4 iltamessun j\u00e4lkeen h\u00e4n aikoi vain\nheid\u00e4n molempain kanssa tehd\u00e4 toivioretken Pyh\u00e4n Mikaelin vuorelle.\nNiin he l\u00e4htiv\u00e4t kolmisin ja ratsastivat mink\u00e4 enn\u00e4ttiv\u00e4t, kunnes\nviimein saapuivat tuon vuoren juurelle. Siell\u00e4 he hypp\u00e4siv\u00e4t alas\nratsuiltansa ja kuningas k\u00e4ski heid\u00e4n j\u00e4\u00e4d\u00e4 siihen odottamaan, sill\u00e4\nh\u00e4n tahtoi menn\u00e4 yksin vuorelle.\nH\u00e4n astui yl\u00f6s m\u00e4ke\u00e4, kunnes h\u00e4n tuli isolle tulelle, ja siell\u00e4 h\u00e4n\nn\u00e4ki \u00e4sken luodun haudan partaalla leskivaimon istuvan ja v\u00e4\u00e4ntelev\u00e4n\nk\u00e4si\u00e4ns\u00e4 ja itkev\u00e4n. Arthur kuningas tervehti h\u00e4nt\u00e4 ja kysyi, miksi\nh\u00e4n niin valitti.\n\"Herra ritari, puhu hiljaa\", nainen vastasi, \"sill\u00e4 tuolla on piru\nitse. Jos h\u00e4n kuulee sinun puhuvan, niin h\u00e4n tulee ja tappaa sinut.\nOi miesparka, mit\u00e4 on sinulla tekemist\u00e4 t\u00e4ll\u00e4 vuorella? Vaikka\nteit\u00e4 olisi viisikymment\u00e4 sinun kaltaistasi, niin te ette kykenisi\nvastustamaan tuota hirvi\u00f6t\u00e4. T\u00e4ss\u00e4 makaa haudattuna muuan herttuatar,\njoka oli kaunein kaikista maan p\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4, Howellin, Brittanyn herttuan\npuoliso -- tuo hirvi\u00f6 h\u00e4net surmasi.\"\n\"Rouva\", sanoi kuningas, \"minut on l\u00e4hett\u00e4nyt Arthur kuningas,\nse suuri sankari, keskustelemaan tuon tyrannin kanssa h\u00e4nen\nvasalleistaan.\"\n\"Yhhyh, vai keskustelemaan!\" sanoi leski. \"Se peto ei v\u00e4lit\u00e4\nkuninkaista eik\u00e4 muistakaan. Ole varoillasi, \u00e4l\u00e4k\u00e4 mene h\u00e4nt\u00e4\nliian l\u00e4helle, sill\u00e4 h\u00e4n on voittanut viisitoista kuningasta ja on\ntehnyt itselleen nutun, joka on t\u00e4ynn\u00e4 jalokivi\u00e4 ja reunustettu\nheid\u00e4n parroillaan, jotka he t\u00e4ss\u00e4 viime jouluna h\u00e4nelle l\u00e4hettiv\u00e4t\nkansaansa pelastaakseen. Ja jos sin\u00e4 tahdot, niin puhu h\u00e4nen kanssaan\ntuon suuren tulen luona, jossa h\u00e4n istuu illallisella.\"\n\"Hyv\u00e4\", Arthur sanoi, \"kaikista teid\u00e4n pelottavista puheistanne\nhuolimatta min\u00e4 tahdon tehd\u00e4 teht\u00e4v\u00e4ni.\"\nSitten h\u00e4n meni yl\u00f6s vuoren kukkulaa kohden ja n\u00e4ki, kuinka\nj\u00e4ttil\u00e4inen istui illallisellaan kalvaen isoa luuta ja paistaen\njykevi\u00e4 j\u00e4seni\u00e4\u00e4n tulen \u00e4\u00e4ress\u00e4, sill\u00e4 v\u00e4lin kuin kolme kaunista\nneitoa k\u00e4\u00e4nteli vartaita, joissa oli riippumassa kaksitoista pient\u00e4\nlasta aivan kuin pienet linnunpoikaset. Kun Arthur kuningas n\u00e4ki tuon\nsurkean n\u00e4yn, niin h\u00e4n s\u00e4\u00e4li heit\u00e4 niin suuresti ett\u00e4 h\u00e4nen syd\u00e4mens\u00e4\noli s\u00e4rky\u00e4, ja h\u00e4n huusi j\u00e4ttil\u00e4iselle:\n\"Se joka kaikkea maailmaa hallitsee, antakoon sinulle lyhyen i\u00e4n\nja h\u00e4pe\u00e4llisen kuoleman! Mink\u00e4t\u00e4hden olet sin\u00e4 tappanut nuo pienet\nviattomat lapset ja surmannut herttuattaren? Nouse yl\u00f6s, sin\u00e4\nahmatti, ja valmistaudu taisteluun, sill\u00e4 t\u00e4n\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 olet sin\u00e4\nminun k\u00e4teni kautta surmasi saava.\"\nSilloin j\u00e4ttil\u00e4inen hypp\u00e4si pystyyn ja otti ison nuijan k\u00e4teens\u00e4\nja iski sill\u00e4 kuningasta, niin ett\u00e4 t\u00e4m\u00e4n kyp\u00e4ri murskaantui, ja\nkuningas iski h\u00e4nt\u00e4 vuorostaan ja haavoitti h\u00e4nt\u00e4 vaikeasti. Silloin\nj\u00e4ttil\u00e4inen heitti pois nuijansa ja rutisti kuningasta k\u00e4sivarsiensa\nv\u00e4liss\u00e4, niin ett\u00e4 h\u00e4nen kylkiluunsa olivat murskaantua. Silloin\nnuo kolme neitoa polvistuivat ja huusivat Kristusta Arthurin avuksi\nja turvaksi. Kuningas paini ja tappeli, niin ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli milloin\nalla milloin p\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 ja sill\u00e4 tapaa painien ja tapellen he kieriv\u00e4t\nalas kukkulaa, kunnes tulivat merimerkille. Ja kaiken aikaa heid\u00e4n\npainiessaan Arthur pisteli j\u00e4ttil\u00e4ist\u00e4 tikarillaan. Ja niin sattui\nett\u00e4 he tulivat sille paikalle, jossa molemmat ritarit Arthurin\nhevosen kera seisoivat.\nKun he n\u00e4kiv\u00e4t kuninkaan j\u00e4ttil\u00e4isen k\u00e4siss\u00e4, niin he tulivat ja\nirroittivat h\u00e4net, ja samalla hetkell\u00e4 j\u00e4ttil\u00e4inen heitti henkens\u00e4.\nSilloin Arthur kuningas k\u00e4ski heid\u00e4n ly\u00f6d\u00e4 poikki j\u00e4ttil\u00e4isen p\u00e4\u00e4n\nja asettaa sen peitsen k\u00e4rkeen ja vied\u00e4 sen Howell herttualle ja\nilmoittaa h\u00e4nelle, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4nen vihollisensa oli saanut surmansa. Ja\nsenj\u00e4lkeen h\u00e4n k\u00e4ski heid\u00e4n pist\u00e4\u00e4 tuon p\u00e4\u00e4n tornin huippuun, niin\nett\u00e4 kaikki kansa saattaisi sit\u00e4 katsella.\n\"Ja menk\u00e4\u00e4 te molemmat vuorelle ja noutakaa minun kilpeni ja miekkani\nja rautanuija\", virkkoi Arthur kuningas. \"Ja mit\u00e4 aarteisiin tulee,\nniin ottakaa te ne, sill\u00e4 siell\u00e4 te l\u00f6yd\u00e4tte rikkauksia suunnattoman\npaljon. Niin ett\u00e4 kun min\u00e4 vain saan takin ja nuijan, niin en v\u00e4lit\u00e4\nmuusta.\"\nNiin ritarit noutivat nuijan ja takin ja ottivat itselleen hiukan\naarteita ja palasivat takaisin sotajoukkoon. Ja kohta levisi\ntieto kuninkaan teosta kautta koko maan ja kansa tuli kiitt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n\nkuningasta. Mutta h\u00e4n vastasi:\n\"Kiitt\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4 Jumalaa ja jakakaa aarteet kesken\u00e4nne.\"\nJa sen j\u00e4lkeen Arthur kuningas k\u00e4ski serkkunsa Howell herttuan\nrakennuttamaan sille vuorelle kirkon pyh\u00e4n Mikaelin kunniaksi.\nSeuraavana p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 kuningas jatkoi matkaansa Roomaa kohden. Monen\nkiivaan tappelun j\u00e4lkeen h\u00e4n l\u00f6i roomalaiset ja surmasi Lucius\nkeisarin ja h\u00e4net kruunattiin kaikkien niiden maiden keisariksi,\njotka ulottuvat Roomasta Ranskaan asti. Sitten h\u00e4n palasi\nriemusaatossa maahansa kaikkine ritareineen ja kulki meren yli\nja nousi maihin Sandwichissa, jonne h\u00e4nen puolisonsa Guinevere\nkuningatar oli tullut h\u00e4nt\u00e4 vastaan. Ja jokaisessa kaupungissa ja\nlinnoituksessa otti kansa h\u00e4net jalosti vastaan ja h\u00e4nelle annettiin\nkalliita lahjoja tervetuliaisiksi.\nJ\u00c4RVEN HERRA LANCELOT\nMets\u00e4n vahva ritari.\nArthur kuninkaan hovissa oli monta uljasta ritaria, ja muutamat\nheist\u00e4 olivat niin taitavia aseiden k\u00e4ytt\u00e4misess\u00e4, ett\u00e4 he veiv\u00e4t\nkaikista tovereistaan voiton miehuudessa ja sankariteoissa. Mutta\nmainioin kaikista oli J\u00e4rven herra Lancelot, sill\u00e4 kaikissa\nturnajaisissa ja tjosteissa ja aseteoissa h\u00e4n voitti kaikki muut\nritarit, eik\u00e4 h\u00e4n koskaan ollut kertaakaan joutunut tappiolle, paitsi\npetoksen tai taikajuonien kautta.\nSenvuoksi Guinevere kuningatar piti h\u00e4nt\u00e4 suuremmassa suosiossa\nkuin ket\u00e4\u00e4n muuta ritaria, ja Lancelot herra puolestaan rakasti\nkuningatarta koko el\u00e4m\u00e4ns\u00e4 ajan yli kaikkien muiden ladyjen ja\nneitojen. Ja kuningattaren t\u00e4hden h\u00e4n teki monta mainehikasta\ntekoa ja useammin kuin kerran h\u00e4n pelasti h\u00e4net kuolemasta jalolla\nritarillisuudellansa.\nKun Arthur kuningas palasi Englantiin Roomasta, niin kaikki Py\u00f6re\u00e4n\np\u00f6yd\u00e4n ritarit saapuivat h\u00e4nen luokseen ja monta tjostia ja\nturnajaista silloin pidettiin. Lancelot herra lep\u00e4si jonkun aikaa\nurheillen ja leikkien, mutta lopulta h\u00e4nen mielens\u00e4 taas alkoi\npalaa kummiin seikkailuihin. Senvuoksi h\u00e4n pyysi nepaansa Lionel\nherran valmistautumaan matkalle, ja niin he hypp\u00e4siv\u00e4t ratsuillensa\nasestettuina kiireest\u00e4 kantap\u00e4\u00e4h\u00e4n asti ja ratsastivat synkk\u00e4\u00e4n\nmets\u00e4\u00e4n ja sielt\u00e4 edelleen aavalle aukealle.\nPuolenp\u00e4iv\u00e4n aikaan ilma k\u00e4vi kovin kuumaksi ja Lancelot herraa\nrupesi nukuttamaan. Silloin Lionel herra huomasi suuren omenapuun,\njoka kasvoi pensasaidan vieress\u00e4, ja h\u00e4n virkkoi:\n\"Veli, tuolla on suloista siimest\u00e4. Siell\u00e4 meid\u00e4n ja ratsujemme\nkelpaa lev\u00e4t\u00e4.\"\n\"Oikein puhuttu\", Lancelot herra virkkoi, \"sill\u00e4 seitsem\u00e4\u00e4n viime\nvuoteen en ole ollut niin uninen kuin nyt.\"\nNiin he hypp\u00e4siv\u00e4t alas satulasta ja sitoivat ratsunsa puuhun, ja\nLancelot heitt\u00e4ytyi pitk\u00e4kseen ja asetti kyp\u00e4r\u00e4n p\u00e4\u00e4ns\u00e4 alle ja\nvaipui heti raskaaseen uneen. Mutta Lionel pysyi valveilla.\nSill\u00e4 v\u00e4lin tuli ratsastaen kolme ritaria ja he pakenivat mink\u00e4\nenn\u00e4ttiv\u00e4t, ja noita kolmea ritaria ajoi takaa yksi ainoa ritari. Kun\nLionel herra n\u00e4ki tuon ritarin, niin h\u00e4n mielest\u00e4ns\u00e4 ei ollut koskaan\nn\u00e4hnyt niin kookasta ritaria eik\u00e4 niin komeata ja karskin n\u00e4k\u00f6ist\u00e4\nmiest\u00e4. Hetken kuluttua tuo vahva ritari hy\u00f6kk\u00e4si yhden p\u00e4\u00e4lle noista\nkolmesta ritarista ja paiskasi h\u00e4net tantereeseen, niin ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n j\u00e4i\nmakaamaan liikkumatta. Sitten h\u00e4n karkasi toisen ritarin kimppuun ja\nantoi h\u00e4nelle sellaisen iskun, ett\u00e4 sek\u00e4 mies ett\u00e4 ratsu tupertuivat\nmaahan. Sitten h\u00e4n ratsasti suoraan kolmatta kohden ja paiskasi h\u00e4net\npeitsen kantaman p\u00e4\u00e4h\u00e4n ratsunsa taakse. Sitten h\u00e4n hypp\u00e4si maahan ja\nsitoi kaikki nuo ritarit heid\u00e4n omilla suitsillaan.\nKun Lionel herra n\u00e4ki ritarin tuolla tapaa menettelev\u00e4n, niin h\u00e4n\np\u00e4\u00e4tti k\u00e4yd\u00e4 h\u00e4nen kimppuunsa, ja h\u00e4n valmistautui tappeluun ja otti\nhiljaa hevosensa, jott'ei olisi her\u00e4tt\u00e4nyt Lancelot herraa. Ja h\u00e4n\nratsasti \u00e4kki\u00e4 ritaria kohden ja kutsui h\u00e4nt\u00e4 otteluun, mutta t\u00e4m\u00e4\nantoi Lionel herralle sellaisen iskun, ett\u00e4 ratsu ja mies suistui\nmaahan. Sitten h\u00e4n hypp\u00e4si ratsultansa ja sitoi Lionel herran ja\nheitti h\u00e4net ja nuo kolme muuta ritaria kunkin poikkip\u00e4in oman\nratsunsa selk\u00e4\u00e4n ja ratsasti heid\u00e4n kanssaan linnaansa. Kun he\nsaapuivat sinne, niin h\u00e4n otti heilt\u00e4 aseet ja varukset ja ruoski\nheit\u00e4 okailla ja pisti heid\u00e4t syv\u00e4\u00e4n maanalaiseen tyrm\u00e4\u00e4n, ja siell\u00e4\noli suuri joukko muitakin ritareita, jotka valittivat surkeasti.\nSill\u00e4 v\u00e4lin oli Ector herra, kuultuaan ett\u00e4 Lancelot herra oli\nj\u00e4tt\u00e4nyt hovin l\u00e4hte\u00e4kseen seikkailuille, suutuksissaan mennyt h\u00e4nt\u00e4\netsim\u00e4\u00e4n. Ratsastaessaan kautta suuren mets\u00e4n, h\u00e4n kohtasi miehen,\njoka n\u00e4ytti h\u00e4nest\u00e4 mets\u00e4n vartialta, ja h\u00e4n kysyi tuolta miehelt\u00e4,\ntiesik\u00f6 h\u00e4n l\u00e4himailla mit\u00e4\u00e4n seikkailuja, joihin voisi antautua.\nMets\u00e4nvartia vastasi, ett\u00e4 penikulman p\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4 oli luja kartano, jota\nymp\u00e4r\u00f6i vallihauta, ja vasemmalla k\u00e4dell\u00e4 kartanon l\u00e4hell\u00e4 oli\nkaalamo, jossa hevosia juotettiin, ja sen partaalla kasvoi kaunis puu\nja siin\u00e4 riippui monta kilpe\u00e4, jotka ennen olivat kuuluneet uljaille\nritareille. Puussa riippui my\u00f6s kuparista ja pronssista tehty malja\nja t\u00e4t\u00e4 maljaa piti Ector herran iske\u00e4 kolmasti peitsens\u00e4 tylp\u00e4ll\u00e4\np\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4, niin h\u00e4n kyll\u00e4 saisi kuulla outoja sanomia, joll'ei h\u00e4nell\u00e4\nollut parempaa onnea, kuin kaikilla muilla ritareilla, joita monena\nvuonna oli sen mets\u00e4n l\u00e4pi vaeltanut.\nEctor herra kiitti miest\u00e4 ja l\u00e4hti, ja pian h\u00e4n saapui puulle, jossa\nh\u00e4n n\u00e4ki monta kaunista kilpe\u00e4 riippumassa. Niiden joukossa h\u00e4n n\u00e4ki\nveljens\u00e4 Lionel herrankin kilven ja monen muun ritarin, jotka h\u00e4n\ntunsi Py\u00f6re\u00e4n p\u00f6yd\u00e4n kumppaneikseen. Se murehdutti h\u00e4nen mielt\u00e4ns\u00e4 ja\nh\u00e4n p\u00e4\u00e4tti kostaa veljens\u00e4 puolesta.\nH\u00e4n kolhasi peitsell\u00e4ns\u00e4 maljaa kuin hullu ja sitten h\u00e4n juotti\nratsuaan kaalamossa. Silloin tuli ritari h\u00e4nen taakseen ja k\u00e4ski\nh\u00e4nen tulla pois vedest\u00e4 ja valmistautua taisteluun. Ector herra\nk\u00e4\u00e4ntyi \u00e4kki\u00e4 ja heitti peitsens\u00e4 ja antoi ritarille oikein ankaran\niskun, niin ett\u00e4 t\u00e4m\u00e4n ratsu kieri kahdesti ymp\u00e4ri.\n\"Sep\u00e4 oli aimo isku\", tuo vahva ritari virkkoi, \"ja ritarin tavoin\nolet sin\u00e4 minua pidellyt.\" Ja samassa h\u00e4n kannusti ratsunsa Ector\nherran p\u00e4\u00e4lle ja tarttuen h\u00e4nen oikeaan k\u00e4sivarteensa h\u00e4n tempasi\nh\u00e4net satulasta ja ratsasti sill\u00e4 tapaa h\u00e4nest\u00e4 kiinni pit\u00e4en suoraa\np\u00e4\u00e4t\u00e4 linnansa halliin ja paiskasi h\u00e4net keskelle lattiaa.\nSen ritarin nimi oli Turquine herra.\n\"Koska sin\u00e4 olet t\u00e4n\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 pit\u00e4nyt minua ahtaammalla, kuin kukaan\nmuu ritari n\u00e4in\u00e4 kahtenatoista vuotena\", h\u00e4n sanoi Ector herralle,\n\"niin min\u00e4 annan sinun pit\u00e4\u00e4 henkesi, jos sin\u00e4 tahdot vannoa olevasi\nminun vankinani koko el\u00e4m\u00e4si ajan.\"\n\"Enp\u00e4 toki, sit\u00e4 en ikin\u00e4 sinulle lupaa\", Ector herra virkkoi.\n\"Se surettaa minua\", virkkoi silloin Turquine herra.\nJa h\u00e4n otti Ector herralta aseet ja varukset ja ruoski h\u00e4nt\u00e4 okailla\nja pisti h\u00e4net syv\u00e4\u00e4n maanalaiseen tyrm\u00e4\u00e4n, ja siell\u00e4 Ector herra\ntapasi monta kumppania, jotka h\u00e4n tunsi. Mutta kun h\u00e4n n\u00e4ki siell\u00e4\nLionel herrankin, niin h\u00e4n tuli sangen murheelliseksi. \"Voi\", h\u00e4n\nsanoi, \"miss\u00e4 on minun veljeni Lancelot herra?\"\n\"Min\u00e4 j\u00e4tin h\u00e4net nukkumaan omenapuun alle, kun l\u00e4hdin h\u00e4nen\nluotaan\", Lionel virkkoi, \"ja kuinka h\u00e4nen on k\u00e4ynyt, en saata sanoa.\"\n\"Voi\", ritarit silloin virkkoivat, \"jollei Lancelot herra meit\u00e4\nauta, niin emme ikin\u00e4 p\u00e4\u00e4se vapaiksi, sill\u00e4 emme tied\u00e4 ket\u00e4\u00e4n muuta\nritaria, joka kykenisi pit\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n puoliansa meid\u00e4n is\u00e4nt\u00e4\u00e4mme Turquine\u00e4\nvastaan.\"\nNelj\u00e4 kuningatarta.\nSill\u00e4v\u00e4lin Lancelot herra yh\u00e4 makasi omenapuun alla. Silloin\npuolenp\u00e4iv\u00e4n aikaan kulki siit\u00e4 ohi nelj\u00e4 komeata kuningatarta, ja\njott'ei auringon paahde olisi heit\u00e4 vaivannut, niin heid\u00e4n vieress\u00e4\u00e4n\nratsasti nelj\u00e4 ritaria, jotka nelj\u00e4n keih\u00e4\u00e4n k\u00e4rjess\u00e4 kannattivat\nviheri\u00e4\u00e4 silkkivaatetta kuningattarien ja auringon v\u00e4lill\u00e4. Ja\nkuningattaret ratsastivat nelj\u00e4ll\u00e4 valkoisella muulilla.\nSiten ratsastaessaan he kuulivat l\u00e4hell\u00e4ns\u00e4 ison hevosen vihaisesti\nhirnuvan, ja he huomasivat ett\u00e4 muuan ritari nukkui t\u00e4ysiss\u00e4\naseissaan omenapuun alla; ja heti kun nuo kuningattaret n\u00e4kiv\u00e4t\nh\u00e4nen kasvonsa, niin he tunsivat h\u00e4net Lancelot herraksi. Silloin he\nalkoivat riidell\u00e4, kuka heist\u00e4 saisi voittaa h\u00e4nen rakkautensa, sill\u00e4\nhe sanoivat kaikki tahtovansa h\u00e4net ritariksensa.\n\"\u00c4lk\u00e4\u00e4mme riidelk\u00f6\", virkkoi silloin Morgan le Fay, Arthur kuninkaan\nsisar, \"min\u00e4 panen h\u00e4net lumoukseen, niin ett'ei h\u00e4n her\u00e4\u00e4 kuuteen\ntuntiin, ja vien h\u00e4net linnaani. Ja kun h\u00e4n on varmasti minun\nk\u00e4siss\u00e4ni, niin p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4n h\u00e4net lumouksesta, ja valitkoon h\u00e4n sitten\nmeist\u00e4, kenen tahtoo.\"\nNiin he panivat Lancelot herran lumoukseen ja asettivat h\u00e4net\nsitten h\u00e4nen omalle kilvellens\u00e4, ja niin kaksi ritaria kuljetti\nh\u00e4nt\u00e4 keskell\u00e4ns\u00e4 ratsun sel\u00e4ss\u00e4 Chariotin linnaan. Siell\u00e4 h\u00e4net\nsijoitettiin kylm\u00e4\u00e4n huoneeseen, ja illalla my\u00f6h\u00e4\u00e4n tuli h\u00e4nen\nluokseen kaunis neiti tuoden h\u00e4nen illallisensa. Silloin lumous oli\njo ohitse, ja kun neiti tuli, niin h\u00e4n tervehti Lancelot herraa ja\nvirkkoi: \"Mit\u00e4 kuuluu?\"\n\"En saata sanoa, jalo neiti\", Lancelot herra virkkoi, \"sill\u00e4 min\u00e4\nen ensink\u00e4\u00e4n tied\u00e4, kuinka olen t\u00e4h\u00e4n linnaan joutunut, ell'en ehk\u00e4\ntaikuuden kautta.\"\n\"Herra\", virkkoi neiti, \"pysyk\u00e4\u00e4 rohkealla mielell\u00e4, ja jos te olette\nsellainen ritari kuin sanotaan, niin huomenna p\u00e4iv\u00e4n koittaessa\nsaatte kuulla enemm\u00e4n.\"\nNiin h\u00e4n l\u00e4hti, ja siell\u00e4 Lancelot sai viett\u00e4\u00e4 koko y\u00f6n vailla\nkaikkia mukavuuksia.\nVarhain seuraavana aamuna tulivat nuo nelj\u00e4 kuningatarta komeasti\nkoristettuina, ja he toivottivat Lancelotille hyv\u00e4\u00e4 huomenta ja\nh\u00e4n toivotti heille takaisin. Sitten he sanoivat h\u00e4nelle, ett\u00e4 he\ntiesiv\u00e4t kyll\u00e4, kuka h\u00e4n oli -- J\u00e4rven herra Lancelot, Ban kuninkaan\npoika, jaloin ritari maailmassa.\n\"Me tied\u00e4mme kyll\u00e4 ett'ei kukaan lady ole saanut sinun rakkauttasi\npaitsi yksi, ja se on Guinevere kuningatar; mutta nyt sinun pit\u00e4\u00e4\nainiaaksi h\u00e4net kadottaa ja h\u00e4nen sinut, ja sent\u00e4hden sinun pit\u00e4\u00e4\nnyt valita yksi meist\u00e4 nelj\u00e4st\u00e4. Min\u00e4 olen kuningatar Morgan le Fay,\nGoren maan valtiatar, ja t\u00e4ss\u00e4 on Pohjois-Walesin kuningatar ja\nEastlandin kuningatar ja Ulkosaarten kuningatar. Valitse nyt meist\u00e4\nse, jonka tahdot, taikka kuole t\u00e4h\u00e4n tyrm\u00e4\u00e4n.\"\n\"Se on vaikea seikka\", Lancelot herra virkkoi, \"ett\u00e4 minun t\u00e4ytyy\njoko kuolla tai valita joku teist\u00e4. Mutta ennemmin min\u00e4 kuitenkin\nkunnialla kuolen t\u00e4h\u00e4n tyrm\u00e4\u00e4n, kuin otan teist\u00e4 ket\u00e4\u00e4n vastoin\ntahtoani ladykseni. Ja senvuoksi vastaan teille: min\u00e4 en huoli teist\u00e4\nkenest\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n, sill\u00e4 te olette kaikki kavalia velhoja.\"\n\"Vai niin\", kuningattaret virkkoivat, \"sek\u00f6 siis on vastauksenne,\nett'ette meist\u00e4 huoli?\"\n\"Niin on, kautta kunniani\", Lancelot sanoi, \"min\u00e4 en huoli teist\u00e4\nkenest\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n.\"\nNiin he l\u00e4htiv\u00e4t ja j\u00e4ttiv\u00e4t h\u00e4net yksikseen suureen murheeseen.\nPuolenp\u00e4iv\u00e4n aikaan neito taas tuli h\u00e4nen luokseen, tuoden\np\u00e4iv\u00e4llist\u00e4, ja h\u00e4n kysyi: \"Mit\u00e4 kuuluu?\"\n\"Totisesti, jalo neito\", Lancelot virkkoi, \"ei elinik\u00e4n\u00e4ni ole ollut\nn\u00e4in huonosti asiat.\"\n\"Herra\", virkkoi neito, \"se surettaa minua, mutta jos te tottelette\nminua, niin min\u00e4 tahdon auttaa teit\u00e4 t\u00e4st\u00e4 p\u00e4lk\u00e4h\u00e4st\u00e4, ettek\u00e4 te saa\nmit\u00e4\u00e4n ik\u00e4vyyksi\u00e4 ettek\u00e4 h\u00e4pe\u00e4t\u00e4, jos suostutte pyynt\u00f6\u00f6ni.\"\n\"Sen lupaan teille; minua kovin kammottaa nuo velhokuningattaret,\nsill\u00e4 he ovat tuhonneet monta kunnon ritaria.\"\nSilloin neito kertoi ett\u00e4 seuraavana tiistaina oli h\u00e4nen is\u00e4ll\u00e4\u00e4n\nturnajaiset Pohjois-Walesin kuninkaan kanssa, ja jos Lancelot herra\ntahtoisi tulla sinne auttamaan h\u00e4nen is\u00e4\u00e4ns\u00e4, niin h\u00e4n p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4isi\nh\u00e4net varhain seuraavana aamuna vapauteen.\n\"Jalo neito\", Lancelot virkkoi, \"sanokaa minulle is\u00e4nne nimi, niin\nannan teille vastauksen.\"\n\"Minun is\u00e4ni on kuningas Bagdemagus, jonka viime turnajaisissa voitti\nkolme Arthur kuninkaan ritaria.\"\n\"Tunnen teid\u00e4n is\u00e4nne jaloksi kuninkaaksi ja hyv\u00e4ksi ritariksi\",\nLancelot virkkoi, \"ja kautta kunniani, min\u00e4 olen valmis palvelemaan\nteit\u00e4 ja teid\u00e4n is\u00e4\u00e4nne tuona p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4.\"\nNiin tytt\u00f6 kiitti h\u00e4nt\u00e4 ja k\u00e4ski h\u00e4nen olla valmiina varhain\nseuraavana aamuna, jolloin h\u00e4n tulisi vapauttamaan h\u00e4net. H\u00e4nen tuli\nottaa varuksensa ja ratsunsa ja kilpens\u00e4 ja peitsens\u00e4 ja ratsastaa\nvalkoisten veljesten luostariin, joka ei ollut t\u00e4yteen kymmenen\npenikulman p\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4. Sinne h\u00e4nen piti j\u00e4\u00e4d\u00e4 ja sinne tytt\u00f6 toisi is\u00e4ns\u00e4\nh\u00e4nt\u00e4 tapaamaan.\n\"Kaikki on tapahtuva\", Lancelot herra virkkoi, \"niin totta kuin olen\nrehellinen ritari.\"\nVarhain seuraavana aamuna tuli tytt\u00f6 ja tapasi Lancelot herran\nvalmiina. Sitten h\u00e4n vei h\u00e4net kahdentoista lukitun oven kautta\nja toi h\u00e4nelle aseet ja varukset. Ja kun Lancelot oli t\u00e4ysiss\u00e4\ntamineissaan, niin tytt\u00f6 vei h\u00e4net h\u00e4nen oman ratsunsa luo, ja\nketter\u00e4sti Lancelot sen satuloitsi, ja otti peitsen k\u00e4teens\u00e4 ja\nratsasti pois.\n\"Jalo neito\", h\u00e4n virkkoi, \"en teit\u00e4 pet\u00e4, niin totta kuin Jumala\nminua armahtakoon.\"\nNiin h\u00e4n ratsasti synkk\u00e4\u00e4n mets\u00e4\u00e4n ja kulki siell\u00e4 kaiken sen p\u00e4iv\u00e4n,\neik\u00e4 l\u00f6yt\u00e4nyt mist\u00e4\u00e4n valtatiet\u00e4, ja viimein y\u00f6 laski h\u00e4nen ylitsens\u00e4.\nSeuraavana p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 h\u00e4n saapui luostariin, ja siell\u00e4 Bagdemagus\nkuninkaan tyt\u00e4r oli jo h\u00e4nt\u00e4 odottamassa ja toivotti h\u00e4net iloisesti\ntervetulleeksi. Kiireesti h\u00e4n sitten l\u00e4hetti hakemaan is\u00e4\u00e4ns\u00e4, joka\noli kahdentoista penikulman p\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4 luostarista, ja ennen iltaa\nh\u00e4n saapuikin uljaan ritariseurueen kanssa. Lancelot herra kertoi\nkuninkaalle, kuinka h\u00e4net oli petetty ja kuinka h\u00e4nen nepaansa Lionel\nherra oli l\u00e4htenyt h\u00e4nen luotaan tiesi minnekk\u00e4 ja kuinka kuninkaan\ntyt\u00e4r oli vapauttanut h\u00e4net vankeudesta. \"Sent\u00e4hden olen palveleva\nh\u00e4nt\u00e4 niin kauan kuin el\u00e4n ja kaikkea h\u00e4nen sukuansa\", h\u00e4n virkkoi\nlopuksi.\n\"Silloin olen varma teid\u00e4n avustanne tulevana tiistaina\", sanoi\nkuningas.\n\"Niin olette, herra\", Lancelot virkkoi, \"enk\u00e4 teit\u00e4 pet\u00e4, sill\u00e4 olen\nsen luvannut ladylleni, teid\u00e4n tytt\u00e4rellenne. Mutta sanokaa minulle,\nherra, ketk\u00e4 herrani Arthurin ritareista olivat Pohjois-Walesin\nkuninkaan seurassa?\"\nKuningas vastasi ett\u00e4 ne olivat Mador, Mordred ja Gahalatine ja\nett'ei niit\u00e4 kolmea vastaan h\u00e4nen eik\u00e4 h\u00e4nen ritariensa voimat\nriitt\u00e4neet.\n\"Herra\", Lancelot virkkoi, \"koska turnajaiset kuuluvat olevan kolmen\npenikulman p\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4 t\u00e4st\u00e4 luostarista, niin teid\u00e4n tulee l\u00e4hett\u00e4\u00e4\nminulle kolme ritarianne, sellaisia, joihin luotatte, ja katsokaa\nett\u00e4 nuo kolme ritaria saavat aivan valkoiset kilvet ja min\u00e4 my\u00f6skin\nja ett'ei ole mit\u00e4\u00e4n maalauksia kiiviss\u00e4. Me nelj\u00e4 rynt\u00e4\u00e4mme sitten\nesiin metsik\u00f6st\u00e4, joka on molempien joukkojen v\u00e4liss\u00e4, ja hy\u00f6kk\u00e4\u00e4mme\netumaisina teid\u00e4n vihollistenne kimppuun ja pehmit\u00e4mme heit\u00e4\nvoimiemme takaa. Ja sill\u00e4 tapaa ei tulla tiet\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n, kuka ritari min\u00e4\nolen.\"\nSin\u00e4 y\u00f6n\u00e4, joka oli sunnuntaiy\u00f6, he sitten lep\u00e4siv\u00e4t, ja seuraavana\np\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 l\u00e4hti Bagdemagus kuningas, ja h\u00e4n l\u00e4hetti Lancelot herralle\nne kolme ritaria ja nelj\u00e4 valkoista kilpe\u00e4.\nKartano kaalamon luona.\nTiistaina sitten Lancelot herra ja nuo kolme Bagdemagus kuninkaan\nritaria, joilla oli valkoiset kilvet, asettuivat pieneen tuuheaan\nmetsikk\u00f6\u00f6n, joka oli turnajaispaikan vieress\u00e4. Ja sinne oli\npystytetty telttoja, niin ett\u00e4 lordit ja ladyt saattoivat katsella\ntaistelua ja antaa palkinnon.\nSilloin saapui taistelutantereelle Pohjois-Walesin kuningas mukanaan\nsata ja kuusikymment\u00e4 kyp\u00e4rip\u00e4\u00e4t\u00e4 ja nuo kolme Arthur kuninkaan\nritaria olivat niiden joukossa.\nSitten saapui tantereelle Bagdemagus kuningas mukanaan\nkahdeksankymment\u00e4 kyp\u00e4rip\u00e4\u00e4t\u00e4. Ja he laskivat peitsens\u00e4 tanaan ja\nhy\u00f6kk\u00e4siv\u00e4t toinen toistansa vastaan, ja ensim\u00e4isess\u00e4 t\u00f6rm\u00e4yksess\u00e4\nkaatui kaksitoista Bagdemagus kuninkaan ja kuusi Pohjois-Walesin\nkuninkaan ritaria, ja Bagdemagus kuninkaan joukko ly\u00f6tiin pakoon.\nSilloin rynt\u00e4si esiin J\u00e4rven herra Lancelot ja h\u00e4n sy\u00f6ksi peitsens\u00e4\ntaajimpaan parveen ja ritari ritarin j\u00e4lkeen keikahti kumoon h\u00e4nen\nedest\u00e4ns\u00e4, ja siin\u00e4 myll\u00e4k\u00e4ss\u00e4 h\u00e4n kaatoi my\u00f6s Pohjois-Walesin\nkuninkaan. Kun Arthur kuninkaan kolme ritaria n\u00e4ki tuon Lancelotin\nteon, niin he kukin vuorostansa karkasivat h\u00e4nen kimppuunsa, mutta\njoutuivat tappiolle jokainen.\nSitten Lancelot herra taisteli kahdeksaakolmatta ritaria vastaan ja\nvoitti heid\u00e4t jokaisen, ja silloin Pohjois-Walesin ritarit eiv\u00e4t\ntahtoneet en\u00e4\u00e4 tjostata, ja palkinto annettiin Bagdemagus kuninkaalle.\nNiin kumpikin joukko meni paikoilleen, ja Lancelot herra ratsasti\nBagdemagus kuninkaan kera t\u00e4m\u00e4n linnaan, jossa kuningas ja h\u00e4nen\ntytt\u00e4rens\u00e4 h\u00e4nt\u00e4 ylenpalttisesti kestitsiv\u00e4t ja antoivat h\u00e4nelle\nkalliita lahjoja.\nSeuraavana aamuna Lancelot herra otti j\u00e4\u00e4hyv\u00e4iset ja sanoi\nkuninkaalle, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n tahtoi menn\u00e4 hakemaan velje\u00e4ns\u00e4 Lionel herraa,\njoka oli l\u00e4htenyt h\u00e4nen luotaan, silloin kun h\u00e4n nukkui omenapuun\nalla. Niin h\u00e4n otti ratsunsa ja j\u00e4tti heid\u00e4t kaikki Jumalan haltuun.\nJa kuninkaan tytt\u00e4relle h\u00e4n virkkoi:\n\"Jos milloinkaan tarvitsette minun palvelustani, niin pyyd\u00e4n ett\u00e4\nminulle vain annatte tiedon, enk\u00e4 min\u00e4 ole pett\u00e4v\u00e4 teit\u00e4, niin totta\nkuin olen rehellinen ritari.\"\nNiin Lancelot herra l\u00e4hti, ja sattumalta h\u00e4n tuli samaan mets\u00e4\u00e4n,\njossa h\u00e4net oli nukkuessaan otettu kiinni. Ja keskell\u00e4 valtatiet\u00e4\nh\u00e4n kohtasi neidin, joka ratsasti valkoisella hevosella, ja he\ntervehtiv\u00e4t kumpikin toisiansa.\n\"Jalo neiti\", Lancelot herra virkkoi, \"tied\u00e4ttek\u00f6, onko n\u00e4ill\u00e4\ntienoin mit\u00e4\u00e4n seikkailuja saatavissa?\"\n\"Herra ritari\", neiti sanoi, \"t\u00e4ss\u00e4 on aivan l\u00e4hell\u00e4 seikkailuja\nsaatavissa, jos vain uskallatte niihin antautua.\"\n\"Kuinka min\u00e4 en uskaltaisi antautua seikkailuihin\", Lancelot virkkoi,\n\"sill\u00e4 juuri niiden t\u00e4hden olen tullut t\u00e4nne.\"\n\"Vai niin\", neiti virkkoi, \"sin\u00e4 n\u00e4yt\u00e4t tosiaankin oivalta ritarilta,\nja jos sin\u00e4 uskallat mitell\u00e4 voimiasi kunnon ritarin kera, niin\nmin\u00e4 vien sinut sinne, miss\u00e4 kohtaat parhaimman ja mahtavimman mit\u00e4\nkoskaan olet tavannut, jos sin\u00e4 sanot minulle nimesi ja mik\u00e4 ritari\nolet.\"\n\"Sanomaan sinulle nimeni olen heti valmis, totisesti se on J\u00e4rven\nherra Lancelot.\"\n\"Herra, sin\u00e4 olet uljaan n\u00e4k\u00f6inen ritari, t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 tapaat seikkailuja,\njotka sinulle sopivat. Sill\u00e4 t\u00e4ss\u00e4 l\u00e4hell\u00e4 asuu ritari, jota ei pysty\nvoittamaan kenk\u00e4\u00e4n, jonka tunnen, paitsi jos te h\u00e4net voitatte. H\u00e4nen\nnimens\u00e4 on Turquine herra, ja mik\u00e4li min\u00e4 tied\u00e4n niin h\u00e4nell\u00e4 on\ntyrm\u00e4ss\u00e4ns\u00e4 kuusikymment\u00e4 ja nelj\u00e4 kunnon ritaria Arthurin hovista,\njotka h\u00e4n on omin k\u00e4sin voittanut. Mutta kun olette tehnyt t\u00e4m\u00e4n\np\u00e4iv\u00e4n ty\u00f6n, niin luvatkaa minulle, niin totta kuin olette rehellinen\nritari, ett\u00e4 tulette minun kerallani ja autatte minua ja muita\nneitej\u00e4, joita muuan katala ritari joka p\u00e4iv\u00e4 kiusaa.\"\n\"Olen t\u00e4ytt\u00e4v\u00e4 kaikki mit\u00e4 haluatte, jos vain viette minut tuon\nritarin luokse.\"\nNiin neito vei h\u00e4net kaalamolle ja sen puun luo, jossa malja riippui.\nLancelot herra antoi ratsunsa juoda ja sitten h\u00e4n hakkasi voimiensa\ntakaa maljaa peitsens\u00e4 per\u00e4ll\u00e4, niin ett\u00e4 lopulta pohja putosi\nmaahan, mutta h\u00e4n ei n\u00e4hnyt mit\u00e4\u00e4n. H\u00e4n ratsasti edes takaisin\nkartanon portin edess\u00e4 l\u00e4hemm\u00e4s puolentoista tuntia, ja viimein\nh\u00e4n n\u00e4ki kookkaan ritarin tulevan, joka ajoi edess\u00e4\u00e4n hevosta, ja\npoikkip\u00e4in hevosen sel\u00e4ss\u00e4 makasi asestettu ritari sidottuna. Kun he\ntulivat yh\u00e4 l\u00e4hemm\u00e4ksi ja l\u00e4hemm\u00e4ksi, niin Lancelot herra arveli,\nett\u00e4 h\u00e4nen pit\u00e4isi tuntea tuo ritari, ja sitten h\u00e4n n\u00e4ki, ett\u00e4 se oli\nGawainen veli, Gaheris herra, yksi Py\u00f6re\u00e4n p\u00f6yd\u00e4n ritareista.\nSill\u00e4 v\u00e4lin Turquine herra oli huomannut Lancelotin ja molemmat\ntarttuivat peitsiins\u00e4.\n\"Hohoi, uljas ritari, nostappa tuo haavoitettu ritari alas ratsusi\nsel\u00e4st\u00e4 ja j\u00e4t\u00e4 h\u00e4net hetkeksi rauhaan, ja koetelkaamme me molemmat\nvoimiamme. Sill\u00e4 kuten olen kuullut, sin\u00e4 tuotat ja olet tuottanut\npaljon turmiota ja h\u00e4pe\u00e4\u00e4 Py\u00f6re\u00e4n p\u00f6yd\u00e4n ritareille. Siksip\u00e4 puolusta\nnyt itse\u00e4si!\"\n\"Jos sin\u00e4 olet Py\u00f6re\u00e4n p\u00f6yd\u00e4n ritareita, niin min\u00e4 vaadin taisteluun\nsinut ja kaikki sinun kumppanisi\", sanoi Turquine herra.\n\"Jopa lupaat liikoja\", Lancelot sanoi. Sitten he laskivat peitsens\u00e4\ntanaan ja karahuttivat ratsuineen niin l\u00e4helle toisiaan, kuin vain\nvoivat, ja kumpikin iski toinen toistansa keskelle kilpe\u00e4, niin ett\u00e4\nmolempain ratsujen selk\u00e4ranka katkesi. Molemmat ritarit h\u00e4mm\u00e4styiv\u00e4t,\nja niin pian kuin saattoivat selvit\u00e4 ratsuistansa he heilahuttivat\nkilvet eteens\u00e4 ja paljastivat miekkansa ja sy\u00f6ksyiv\u00e4t yhteen niin\nrajusti, ett'eiv\u00e4t kilvet eiv\u00e4tk\u00e4 varukset voineet kest\u00e4\u00e4 heid\u00e4n\niskujansa. Ennen pitk\u00e4\u00e4 he olivat t\u00e4ynn\u00e4 kauheita haavoja, ja sit\u00e4\nkesti kaksi tuntia ja enemm\u00e4nkin. Sitten he molemmat lopulta aivan\nheng\u00e4stynein\u00e4 seisahtuivat ja nojasivat miekkoihinsa.\n\"No, kumppani\", Turquine herra virkkoi, \"pid\u00e4t\u00e4 k\u00e4tt\u00e4si hetkinen ja\nsano minulle mit\u00e4 sinulta kysyn.\"\n\"Anna kuulua\", Lancelot virkkoi.\n\"Sin\u00e4 olet isoin mies mink\u00e4 min\u00e4 koskaan olen n\u00e4hnyt ja kaikista\ntaitavin, ja muistutat muuatta ritaria, jota min\u00e4 vihaan yli kaikkien\nmuiden. Jos niin on ett\u00e4 sin\u00e4 et ole se ritari, niin min\u00e4 mielell\u00e4ni\nteen sovinnon sinun kanssasi ja sinun t\u00e4htesi min\u00e4 tahdon vapauttaa\nkaikki vangit, joita minulla on kuusikymment\u00e4 ja nelj\u00e4, jos sin\u00e4\nilmoitat minulle nimesi. Ja min\u00e4 rupean sinun yst\u00e4v\u00e4ksesi enk\u00e4 ikin\u00e4\nsinua pet\u00e4, niin kauan kuin el\u00e4n.\"\n\"Hyvin sin\u00e4 puhut\", Lancelot herra vastasi, \"mutta koska min\u00e4 saan\nsinun yst\u00e4vyytesi, niin sano kuka on se ritari, jota sin\u00e4 vihaat yli\nkaikkien muiden?\"\n\"Totisesti se on J\u00e4rven herra Lancelot, sill\u00e4 h\u00e4n surmasi Tuskien\ntornin luona minun veljeni, joka oli parhaimpia ritareita maan\np\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4. Senvuoksi, jos min\u00e4 milloinkaan h\u00e4net kohtaan, niin\njompikumpi meist\u00e4 on toisen surmaava, sen vannon. Ja Lancelot herran\nvuoksi min\u00e4 olen surmannut sata kunnon ritaria ja yht\u00e4 monta min\u00e4\nolen ly\u00f6nyt raajarikoiksi ja moni on kuollut vankeudessa ja viel\u00e4\nniit\u00e4 on vankina kuusikymment\u00e4 ja nelj\u00e4. Mutta kaikki p\u00e4\u00e4sev\u00e4t\nvapaiksi, jos sin\u00e4 ilmoitat minulle nimesi, jollet sin\u00e4 vain ole\nLancelot.\"\n\"Nyt min\u00e4 huomaan\", Lancelot herra virkkoi, \"ett\u00e4 min\u00e4 olen semmoinen\nmies ett\u00e4 min\u00e4 voin saada rauhan, ja semmoinen mies ett\u00e4 meid\u00e4n\nkeskemme voi synty\u00e4 taistelu el\u00e4m\u00e4st\u00e4 ja kuolemasta. Ja nyt, herra\nritari, koska sin\u00e4 olet kysynyt, niin sin\u00e4 saat tiet\u00e4\u00e4 ja tuntea\nett\u00e4 min\u00e4 olen J\u00e4rven Lancelot, Benwichin kuninkaan Banin poika\nja rehellinen Py\u00f6re\u00e4n p\u00f6yd\u00e4n ritari. Ja nyt min\u00e4 vaadin sinut\ntaisteluun, tee parastasi!\"\n\"Ah Lancelot\", Turquine sanoi, \"sin\u00e4 olet kaikista ritareista\ntervetullein minun luokseni, sill\u00e4 me emme eroa, ennenkuin toinen\nmeist\u00e4 on surmansa saanut.\"\nSitten he sy\u00f6ksyiv\u00e4t toisiaan vastaan kuin kaksi villi\u00e4 h\u00e4rk\u00e4\u00e4, ja\nkilvet ja miekat kalskuivat ja kilahtelivat. Siten he taistelivat\nkaksi tuntia ja enemm\u00e4nkin, eiv\u00e4tk\u00e4 tahtoneet huoata. Ja Turquine\nherra iski Lancelot herraan monta haavaa, niin ett\u00e4 siin\u00e4 miss\u00e4 he\ntaistelivat tanner oli kirjavana verest\u00e4. Silloin Turquine herra\nlopulta uupui ja per\u00e4ytyi muutaman askeleen ja antoi kilpens\u00e4\nhetkeksi vaipua. Lancelot herra huomasi sen ja karkasi rajusti h\u00e4nen\nkimppuunsa ja tarttui h\u00e4nen kyp\u00e4rins\u00e4 silmikkoon ja tempasi h\u00e4net\nmaahan polvillensa. Sitten h\u00e4n \u00e4kki\u00e4 vet\u00e4isi pois h\u00e4nen kyp\u00e4rins\u00e4 ja\nhakkasi h\u00e4nen kaulansa m\u00e4s\u00e4ksi.\nJa kun Lancelot herra oli sen tehnyt, niin h\u00e4n meni neidon luo ja\nvirkkoi:\n\"Neito, min\u00e4 olen valmis tulemaan teid\u00e4n kanssanne minne tahdotte,\nmutta minulla ei ole ratsua.\"\n\"Jalo herra\", neito sanoi, \"ottakaa tuon haavoitetun ritarin ratsu ja\nl\u00e4hett\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4 h\u00e4net kartanoon ja k\u00e4skek\u00e4\u00e4 h\u00e4nen vapauttaa kaikki vangit.\"\nNiin Lancelot meni Gaheris herran luo ja sanoi, ett'ei Gaheris panisi\npahakseen, vaikka h\u00e4n pyysi lainaksi h\u00e4nen ratsuaan.\n\"En suinkaan, jalo herra\", Gaheris virkkoi, \"min\u00e4 tahdon ett\u00e4 te\nomin valloin otatte minun ratsuni, sill\u00e4 te pelastitte sek\u00e4 minut\nett\u00e4 ratsuni. Ja t\u00e4n\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 min\u00e4 n\u00e4in, ett\u00e4 te olette paras ritari\nmaan p\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4, sill\u00e4 te olette surmannut minun n\u00e4hteni mahtavimman\nmiehen ja parhaimman ritarin, mit\u00e4 min\u00e4 milloinkaan olen tavannut,\nteit\u00e4 lukuunottamatta. Min\u00e4 pyyd\u00e4n teit\u00e4, herra, ilmoittakaa minulle\nnimenne.\"\n\"Herra, minun nimeni on J\u00e4rven Lancelot, joka olin velvollinen teit\u00e4\nauttamaan sek\u00e4 Arthur kuninkaan ett\u00e4 varsinkin Gawaine herran, teid\u00e4n\noman rakkaan veljenne t\u00e4hden. Ja kun te menette tuonne kartanoon,\nniin varmaan siell\u00e4 tapaatte monta Py\u00f6re\u00e4n p\u00f6yd\u00e4n ritaria, sill\u00e4 min\u00e4\nn\u00e4in tuolla puussa riippuvan useita heid\u00e4n kilpi\u00e4\u00e4n, jotka tunnen. Ja\nniiden joukossa on minun sukulaisteni Marisin Ector herran ja Lionel\nherran kilvet. Sent\u00e4hden min\u00e4 pyyd\u00e4n teit\u00e4, ett\u00e4 tervehtisitte heit\u00e4\nkaikkia minun puolestani, ja sanokaa ett\u00e4 min\u00e4 pyyd\u00e4n heit\u00e4 ottamaan\nkaikki aarteet, joita l\u00f6yt\u00e4v\u00e4t kartanosta, ja ett\u00e4 joka tapauksessa\nminun sukulaiseni menk\u00f6\u00f6t hoviin ja odottakoot siell\u00e4, kunnes min\u00e4\ntulen, sill\u00e4 helluntaijuhlaksi min\u00e4 arvelen sinne enn\u00e4tt\u00e4v\u00e4ni; nyt\nminun t\u00e4ytyy pit\u00e4\u00e4 lupaukseni ja seurata t\u00e4t\u00e4 neitoa.\"\nNiin Lancelot herra l\u00e4hti, ja Gaheris meni kartanoon ja h\u00e4nt\u00e4 vastaan\ntuli portinvartija, jolla oli paljo avaimia. Silloin Gaheris herra\npaiskasi h\u00e4net nopeasti maahan ja otti h\u00e4nelt\u00e4 avaimet ja avasi\nkiireesti tyrm\u00e4n ovet ja laski kaikki vangit vapauteen; ja kukin\nirroitti toinen toisensa kahleet.\nKun he n\u00e4kiv\u00e4t Gaheris herran, niin he kaikki kiittiv\u00e4t h\u00e4nt\u00e4, sill\u00e4\nhe n\u00e4kiv\u00e4t ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli haavoittunut.\n\"\u00c4lk\u00e4\u00e4 minua kiitt\u00e4k\u00f6\", Gaheris virkkoi, \"Lancelot teid\u00e4n ry\u00f6v\u00e4\u00e4j\u00e4nne\nsurmasi, min\u00e4 n\u00e4in sen omin silmin. Ja h\u00e4n tervehtii teit\u00e4 kaikkia ja\npyyt\u00e4\u00e4 teit\u00e4 kiirehtim\u00e4\u00e4n hoviin, ja Lionel herraa ja Ector herraa\nh\u00e4n pyyt\u00e4\u00e4 odottamaan hovissa.\"\n\"Sit\u00e4 emme tee\", veljekset sanoivat, \"me tahdomme l\u00f6yt\u00e4\u00e4 h\u00e4net, jos\nmeille on elonp\u00e4ivi\u00e4 suotu.\"\n\"Niin totta kuin olen rehellinen ritari, olen l\u00f6yt\u00e4v\u00e4 h\u00e4net,\nennenkuin menen hoviin\", Kay herra virkkoi.\nSitten ritarit hakivat sen huoneen, jossa aseet ja varukset\nolivat, ja asestautuivat ja jokainen ritari l\u00f6ysi oman ratsunsa ja\nkaikki mit\u00e4 h\u00e4nelle kuului. Ja kun se oli tapahtunut, niin saapui\nmets\u00e4nvartia mukanaan nelj\u00e4 hevosen kantamusta lihavaa mets\u00e4nriistaa.\n\"Kas, tuossahan on meille ruokaa yhdeksi ateriaksi\", Kay herra\nvirkkoi, \"sill\u00e4 laihalla ravinnolla olemme olleet monen monta p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4.\"\nNiin mets\u00e4nriista paahdettiin, paistettiin ja keitettiin, ja\nillallisen j\u00e4lkeen muutamat ritarit viettiv\u00e4t siell\u00e4 kartanossa koko\nsen y\u00f6n, mutta Lionel herra ja Marisin Ector herra ja Kay herra\nratsastivat Lancelot herran per\u00e4\u00e4n h\u00e4nt\u00e4 etsim\u00e4\u00e4n.\nKuinka Lancelot kaatoi kaksi j\u00e4ttil\u00e4ist\u00e4.\nLancelot herra ratsasti neidon keralla, niinkuin h\u00e4n oli luvannut,\nauttaakseen h\u00e4nt\u00e4 tuota ilke\u00e4t\u00e4 ritaria vastaan, joka ry\u00f6v\u00e4ili ja\nkiusasi kaikkia ladyj\u00e4 ja aatelisnaisia.\n\"H\u00e4n on h\u00e4pe\u00e4ksi koko ritarikunnalle ja valansa rikkoja\", Lancelot\nsanoi, \"ja se on synti ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n saa el\u00e4\u00e4. Mutta hyv\u00e4 neito,\nratsastakaa te edell\u00e4; min\u00e4 pysyttelen piilossa ja jos h\u00e4n teit\u00e4\nh\u00e4iritsee tai ahdistaa, niin min\u00e4 tulen teid\u00e4n avuksenne ja opetan\nh\u00e4nelle ritarin tapoja.\"\nNiin tytt\u00f6 ratsasti hiljakseen eteenp\u00e4in valtatiet\u00e4 pitkin.\nPian ajaa karautti mets\u00e4st\u00e4 tuo ilke\u00e4 ritari, ja h\u00e4nen asemiehens\u00e4\noli h\u00e4nen mukanaan, ja h\u00e4n otti neidon hevosen sel\u00e4st\u00e4 ja neito\nkirkasi.\nSilloin Lancelot herra tuli t\u00e4ytt\u00e4 karkua paikalle.\n\"Ohoi sin\u00e4 rietas konna ja ritariuden h\u00e4p\u00e4isij\u00e4!\" h\u00e4n huusi. \"Kuka\nsinut on opettanut ahdistamaan ladyj\u00e4 ja aatelisnaisia?\"\nKun ritari kuuli tuon l\u00e4ksytyksen, niin h\u00e4n ei vastannut sanaakaan,\nvaan veti miekkansa ja ratsasti Lancelot herraa kohden. Silloin\nLancelot otti peitsens\u00e4 ja paljasti miekkansa ja antoi ritarille\nsellaisen iskun kyp\u00e4riin, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4nen p\u00e4\u00e4ns\u00e4 halkesi kurkkuun asti.\n\"Nyt sin\u00e4 olet saanut palkkasi, jonka jo kauan sitten olit ansainnut,\nja se on totta\", neito silloin virkkoi. \"Sill\u00e4 samoin kuin Turquine\nherra vaani ja surmasi ritareita, niin t\u00e4m\u00e4 ritari v\u00e4ijyi ja surmasi\nladyj\u00e4 ja neiti\u00e4 ja aatelisnaisia; ja h\u00e4nen nimens\u00e4 oli Villinmets\u00e4n\nherra Peris.\"\n\"No, neito\", Lancelot virkkoi, \"tahdotteko minulta viel\u00e4 jotain\npalveluksia.\"\n\"En, herra, en t\u00e4ll\u00e4 kertaa\", neito virkkoi, \"vaan Kristus teit\u00e4\nvarjelkoon, minne ikin\u00e4 menettekin! Sill\u00e4 kohteliain ritari te olette\nja lempein ja yst\u00e4v\u00e4llisin kaikkia ladyj\u00e4 ja aatelisnaisia kohtaan\nkaikista ritareista maan p\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4.\"\nJa niin neito ja Lancelot herra erosivat.\nSitten Lancelot herra ratsasti pitkin synkk\u00e4\u00e4 mets\u00e4\u00e4 kaksi p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4 ja\nenemm\u00e4nkin, ja kova oli h\u00e4nen leposijansa. Kolmantena p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 h\u00e4n\nratsasti pitk\u00e4n sillan yli, ja silloin \u00e4kki\u00e4 h\u00e4nen p\u00e4\u00e4lleen karkasi\nkauheann\u00e4k\u00f6inen moukka, joka iski h\u00e4nen ratsuaan turpaan niin ett\u00e4\nse nousi takajaloilleen, ja kysyi Lancelotilta, kuinka h\u00e4n ratsasti\nsillan yli ilman h\u00e4nen lupaansa.\n\"Miksip\u00e4 min\u00e4 en ratsastaisi t\u00e4t\u00e4 tiet\u00e4?\" Lancelot herra sanoi.\n\"Sinulla ei ole valitsemisen varaa\", moukka sanoi ja tavoitti h\u00e4nt\u00e4\nisolla raudoitetulla nuijalla.\nSilloin Lancelot herra paljasti miekkansa ja v\u00e4isti iskun ja halkaisi\nilki\u00f6n p\u00e4\u00e4n.\nSillan p\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4 oli kaunis kyl\u00e4, ja kaikki kansa, miehet ja naiset,\nhuusivat Lancelot herralle.\n\"Jopa teit teon joka sinut turmioon vie, sill\u00e4 sin\u00e4 surmasit meid\u00e4n\nlinnamme p\u00e4\u00e4portinvartijan.\"\nLancelot ei v\u00e4litt\u00e4nyt heid\u00e4n sanoistaan, vaan meni suoraan linnaan.\nJa kun h\u00e4n saapui sinne, niin h\u00e4n hypp\u00e4si alas ratsunsa sel\u00e4st\u00e4 ja\nsitoi sen linnanmuurissa olevaan renkaaseen. Ja muurin sis\u00e4puolella\nh\u00e4n n\u00e4ki kauniin viheri\u00e4n pihan ja sinne h\u00e4n meni, sill\u00e4 se oli h\u00e4nen\nmielest\u00e4ns\u00e4 sopiva taistelukent\u00e4ksi. Ja h\u00e4n katseli ymp\u00e4rilleen ja\nn\u00e4ki ovissa ja akkunoissa paljo ihmisi\u00e4, jotka huusivat:\n\"Jalo ritari, sin\u00e4 olet turman tiell\u00e4!\"\nJa pian hy\u00f6kk\u00e4si h\u00e4nen p\u00e4\u00e4lleen kaksi isoa j\u00e4ttil\u00e4ist\u00e4, jotka\nolivat sangen lujasti asestettuja, paitsi ett\u00e4 heid\u00e4n p\u00e4\u00e4ns\u00e4 olivat\npaljaina, ja heill\u00e4 oli kauheat nuijat k\u00e4siss\u00e4\u00e4n. Heilahduttaen\nkilpens\u00e4 eteens\u00e4 Lancelot herra torjui toisen j\u00e4ttil\u00e4isen nuijan\niskun ja halkaisi h\u00e4nen p\u00e4\u00e4ns\u00e4 miekallaan. Kun toinen j\u00e4ttil\u00e4inen\nn\u00e4ki sen, niin h\u00e4n l\u00e4ksi juoksemaan pakoon kuin hullu, mutta Lancelot\njuoksi h\u00e4nen per\u00e4\u00e4ns\u00e4 mink\u00e4 enn\u00e4tti ja iski h\u00e4nt\u00e4 miekallaan\nhartioihin ja tappoi h\u00e4net.\nSitten Lancelot meni linnan halliin ja siell\u00e4 tuli h\u00e4nt\u00e4 vastaan\nkuusikymment\u00e4 lady\u00e4 ja neitoa, jotka kaikki polvistuivat h\u00e4nen\neteens\u00e4 ja kiittiv\u00e4t Jumalaa ja h\u00e4nt\u00e4 pelastuksestansa.\n\"Sill\u00e4, herra\", he virkkoivat, \"me olemme useimmat olleet t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4\nvankeina seitsem\u00e4n vuotta ja me olemme valmistaneet kaikellaisia\nsilkkikankaita ruokamme edest\u00e4, ja me olemme kaikki korkeasukuisia\naatelisnaisia. Siunattu olkoon se hetki, jolloin sin\u00e4 synnyit, sill\u00e4\nsin\u00e4 olet tehnyt jaloimman teon, mit\u00e4 milloinkaan kukaan ritari\non tehnyt, ja sen me tahdomme pit\u00e4\u00e4 muistossamme. Ja me pyyd\u00e4mme\nkaikki, ett\u00e4 sin\u00e4 sanoisit meille nimesi, ett\u00e4 me voisimme kertoa\nyst\u00e4villemme, kuka meid\u00e4t pelasti vankeudesta.\"\n\"Ihanat neidot\", Lancelot virkkoi, \"minun nimeni on J\u00e4rven herra\nLancelot.\"\n\"Ah, herra\", naiset virkkoivat, \"tottakai sin\u00e4 se oletkin, sill\u00e4\nniinkuin arvelimmekin, ei paitsi sinua kukaan ritari olisi noita\nkahta j\u00e4ttil\u00e4ist\u00e4 voittanut. Moni kunnon ritari kyll\u00e4 koetti, mutta\nsurmansa t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 sai, ja monta kertaa me toivoimme sinun tulevan,\nsill\u00e4 nuo j\u00e4ttil\u00e4iset eiv\u00e4t pel\u00e4nneet ket\u00e4\u00e4n muuta kuin sinua.\"\n\"No nyt te voitte sanoa yst\u00e4villenne, kuinka ja ken teid\u00e4t pelasti\",\nLancelot virkkoi, \"ja tervehtik\u00e4\u00e4 heit\u00e4 kaikkia minun puolestani.\nMit\u00e4 aarteita t\u00e4ss\u00e4 linnassa on, ne min\u00e4 annan teille korvaukseksi\nk\u00e4rsimyksist\u00e4nne; ja se lordi, joka on t\u00e4m\u00e4n linnan omistaja,\nottakoon sen haltuunsa, niin kuin oikein on.\"\n\"T\u00e4m\u00e4n linnan nimi on Tintagel\", naiset sanoivat, \"ja se oli jonkun\naikaa er\u00e4\u00e4n herttuan oma, joka oli kauniin Igrainen puoliso. Ja\nherttuan kuoleman j\u00e4lkeen Igraine meni avioksi Uther Pendragon\nkuninkaalle ja Arthur oli heid\u00e4n poikansa.\"\n\"Vai niin\", Lancelot virkkoi, \"kyll\u00e4 ymm\u00e4rr\u00e4n, kenelle t\u00e4m\u00e4 linna\nkuuluu.\"\nJa niin h\u00e4n j\u00e4tti kaikki ladyt Jumalan haltuun ja l\u00e4hti.\nSitten h\u00e4n nousi ratsunsa selk\u00e4\u00e4n ja ratsasti monen asumattoman ja\noudon seudun l\u00e4pi, ja poikki monien vesien ja halki monien laaksojen,\nja kehno oli h\u00e4nen leposijansa. Viimein my\u00f6h\u00e4\u00e4n er\u00e4\u00e4n\u00e4 iltana h\u00e4n\nsaapui sattumalta kauniille kartanonpihalle, ja siell\u00e4 h\u00e4n tapasi\nvanhan rouvan, joka otti h\u00e4net suopeasti vastaan ja kestitsi hyvin\nh\u00e4nt\u00e4 ja h\u00e4nen ratsuansa. Ja sitten h\u00e4nen em\u00e4nt\u00e4ns\u00e4 vei h\u00e4net\nnukkumaan kauniiseen huoneeseen, joka oli porttik\u00e4yt\u00e4v\u00e4n p\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4.\nJa Lancelot herra riisui aseensa ja otti ylt\u00e4\u00e4n varuksensa ja meni\nnukkumaan ja vaipui pian uneen.\nKohta senj\u00e4lkeen tuli joku ratsun sel\u00e4ss\u00e4 ja koputti kiireesti\nportinovelle. Kun Lancelot herra kuuli sen, niin h\u00e4n nousi, ja\nkatsoessaan ulos akkunasta h\u00e4n n\u00e4ki kuunvalossa kolme ritaria tulevan\nt\u00e4ytt\u00e4 laukkaa tuon yksin\u00e4isen ritarin per\u00e4ss\u00e4, ja kaikki kolme\nsivalsivat h\u00e4nt\u00e4 yht\u00e4 haavaa miekoillansa ja tuo yksin\u00e4inen ritari\nk\u00e4\u00e4ntyi uljaasti heit\u00e4 vastaan ja puolusti itse\u00e4ns\u00e4.\n\"Totisesti\", Lancelot herra virkkoi, \"tuota yksin\u00e4ist\u00e4 ritaria minun\ntulee auttaa, sill\u00e4 h\u00e4pe\u00e4llist\u00e4 olisi minun katsella, kuinka kolme\nritaria on yhden kimpussa, ja jos h\u00e4n saisi surmansa, niin min\u00e4\nolisin osallinen h\u00e4nen kuolemaansa.\"\nJa h\u00e4n otti aseensa ja meni ulos ikkunasta ja laski itsens\u00e4 alas\nlakanalla noiden nelj\u00e4n ritarin luokse.\n\"K\u00e4\u00e4ntyk\u00e4\u00e4, te ritarit, minun puoleeni\", h\u00e4n huusi, \"ja heretk\u00e4\u00e4\nahdistamasta tuota ritaria!\"\nSilloin he kaikki j\u00e4ttiv\u00e4t rauhaan sen ritarin, joka oli Kay herra,\nja k\u00e4\u00e4ntyiv\u00e4t Lancelot herraa vastaan, ja ankara ottelu alkoi, sill\u00e4\nhe kaikki kolme hypp\u00e4siv\u00e4t alas satulasta ja iskiv\u00e4t Lancelotiin aimo\niskuja ja ahdistivat h\u00e4nt\u00e4 joka puolelta. Mutta kun Kay herra olisi\ntullut Lancelot herran avuksi, niin j\u00e4lkim\u00e4inen pyysi ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n saisi\ntaistella yksin, ja tehd\u00e4kseen h\u00e4nelle mieliksi Kay herra vet\u00e4ytyi\nsyrj\u00e4\u00e4n. Ja nopsasti silloin, kuudella iskulla, Lancelot herra kaatoi\nkaikki ritarit maahan.\nSilloin he kaikki huusivat: \"Herra ritari, me antaudumme teille,\nkoska olette verrattoman voimallinen mies.\"\n\"Vai niin\", Lancelot herra virkkoi, \"mutta min\u00e4 en salli ett\u00e4 te\nantaudutte minulle, vaan jos te antaudutte hovimestarille, Kay\nherralle, niin sill\u00e4 ehdolla min\u00e4 s\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4n teid\u00e4n henkenne, mutta en\nmuuten.\"\n\"Sit\u00e4 emme mielell\u00e4mme tee, jalo ritari\", he virkkoivat, \"sill\u00e4 meh\u00e4n\najoimme Kay herran t\u00e4nne ja olisimme voittaneet h\u00e4net, joll'ette te\nolisi tullut v\u00e4liin; eih\u00e4n meill\u00e4 siis ole syyt\u00e4 antautua h\u00e4nelle.\"\n\"Ajatelkaa tarkoin\", Lancelot virkkoi, \"sill\u00e4 teid\u00e4n on valitseminen\nsaatteko el\u00e4\u00e4 vai kuolla. Jos te antaudutte, niin teid\u00e4n tulee\nantautua Kay herralle.\"\n\"No hyv\u00e4\", he sanoivat, \"koska te olette s\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4nyt meid\u00e4n henkemme,\nniin me tahdomme tehd\u00e4 niinkuin te k\u00e4skette.\"\nSilloin Lancelot k\u00e4ski heid\u00e4n menn\u00e4 Arthur kuninkaan hoviin ensi\nhelluntaip\u00e4iv\u00e4ksi ja antautua siell\u00e4 Guinevere kuningattarelle ja\nsanoa, ett\u00e4 Kay herra oli heid\u00e4t l\u00e4hett\u00e4nyt h\u00e4nen vangeiksensa. Ja\nkaikki ritarit vannoivat lujasti miekkansa kautta, ett\u00e4 he niin\ntekisiv\u00e4t. Niin Lancelot herra antoi heid\u00e4n l\u00e4hte\u00e4.\nSitten h\u00e4n koputti portille miekkansa kahvalla, ja silloin h\u00e4nen\nis\u00e4nt\u00e4ns\u00e4 tuli, ja he astuivat sis\u00e4\u00e4n, h\u00e4n ja Kay herra.\nH\u00e4nen is\u00e4nt\u00e4ns\u00e4 ei ollut ensink\u00e4\u00e4n kuullut tuota kahakkaa ja\nh\u00e4mm\u00e4styi suuresti, kun h\u00e4n n\u00e4ki heid\u00e4t. \"Herra\", h\u00e4n virkkoi, \"min\u00e4\nluulin ett\u00e4 te olitte vuoteessanne.\"\n\"Niin olinkin\", Lancelot herra virkkoi, \"mutta min\u00e4 nousin ja\nhypp\u00e4sin ulos ikkunasta auttamaan muuatta vanhaa toveriani.\"\nJa kun he tulivat l\u00e4helle valoa, niin Kay herra n\u00e4ki, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4nen\npelastajansa oli Lancelot herra, ja h\u00e4n polvistui ja kiitti h\u00e4nt\u00e4\nkaikesta h\u00e4nen hyvyydest\u00e4ns\u00e4, Lancelot herra kun jo toisen kerran oli\npelastanut h\u00e4net kuolemasta.\n\"Herra\", Lancelot virkkoi, \"min\u00e4 en ole tehnyt muuta kuin\nvelvollisuuteni, niin ett\u00e4 te olette tervetullut; ja t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 teid\u00e4n\nsopii lev\u00e4t\u00e4 ja koota voimia.\"\nKun Kay herra oli riisunut aseensa, niin h\u00e4n pyysi ruokaa, ja sit\u00e4\ntuotiin, ja h\u00e4n s\u00f6i n\u00e4lk\u00e4isesti. Ja kun h\u00e4n oli sy\u00f6nyt, niin h\u00e4n ja\nLancelot herra meniv\u00e4t makuulle ja he nukkuivat molemmat samassa\nhuoneessa.\nAamulla Lancelot herra nousi varhain ja j\u00e4tti Kay herran nukkumaan.\nJa Lancelot herra otti Kay herran varukset ja h\u00e4nen kilpens\u00e4 ja\nasestautui. Sitten h\u00e4n meni talliin ja haki Kay herran ratsun ja\nj\u00e4tti hyv\u00e4stit is\u00e4nn\u00e4llens\u00e4 ja l\u00e4hti.\nSitten v\u00e4h\u00e4n ajan per\u00e4st\u00e4 Kay herra nousi ja kaipasi Lancelot\nherraa. Ja silloin h\u00e4n huomasi ett\u00e4 Lancelot herra oli ottanut h\u00e4nen\nvaruksensa ja ratsunsa.\n\"Kautta kunniani, Lancelot herra tahtoo kiusotella joitakuita Arthur\nkuninkaan hovilaisia. Ja kyll\u00e4 ritarit ovatkin kopeita h\u00e4nt\u00e4 kohtaan,\nkun luulevat h\u00e4nt\u00e4 minuksi, sen takaan; ja niin heit\u00e4 petet\u00e4\u00e4n. Ja\nkoska minulla on n\u00e4m\u00e4 varukset ja t\u00e4m\u00e4 kilpi, niin saan varmasti\nratsastaa rauhassa.\"\nSitten Kay herra kiitti is\u00e4nt\u00e4\u00e4ns\u00e4 ja l\u00e4hti pian.\nVaarojen kappeli ja h\u00e4ijy velho.\nKay herran varuksiin puettuna Lancelot herra ratsasti pitk\u00e4n aikaa\nisossa mets\u00e4ss\u00e4, ja viimein h\u00e4n saapui tasangolle, joka oli t\u00e4ynn\u00e4\nkauniita jokia ja niittyj\u00e4. Edess\u00e4\u00e4n h\u00e4n n\u00e4ki pitk\u00e4n sillan ja\nsillalla kolme eriv\u00e4rist\u00e4 silkist\u00e4 ja santelipuusta tehty\u00e4 telttaa.\nTelttojen ulkopuolella riippui kolme valkoista kilpe\u00e4 peitsien\nkahvap\u00e4iss\u00e4, ja pitki\u00e4 peitsi\u00e4 oli pystytetty telttojen ymp\u00e4rille, ja\njokaisen teltan ovessa seisoi asemies. Lancelot herra kulki niiden\nohi eik\u00e4 sanonut sanaakaan.\n\"Kas tuolla kulkee tuo kopea Kay herra\", sanoivat ritarit, joille\nteltat kuuluivat. \"H\u00e4nen mielest\u00e4\u00e4n ei kukaan ritari ved\u00e4 h\u00e4nelle\nvertoja, vaikka p\u00e4invastoin on usein n\u00e4hty k\u00e4yv\u00e4n.\"\n\"Kautta kunniani, min\u00e4p\u00e4 karkaan h\u00e4nen kimppuunsa, koska h\u00e4n on niin\nylen kopea\", sanoi yksi ritareista, \"ja saatte n\u00e4hd\u00e4 kuinka min\u00e4\nh\u00e4nt\u00e4 pitelen.\" Ja h\u00e4n asestautui ja ratsasti rivakasti Lancelotin\nj\u00e4lkeen ja kutsui h\u00e4nt\u00e4 taisteluun.\nMutta Lancelot herra kaatoi h\u00e4net maahan, ratsuineen p\u00e4ivineen, ja\nsitten kun molemmat toiset ritarit tulivat veljens\u00e4 avuksi, niin h\u00e4n\nl\u00f6i heid\u00e4tkin. Yksi heist\u00e4 hypp\u00e4si silloin pystyyn aivan verisin p\u00e4in\nja rynt\u00e4si suoraan Lancelot herraa kohden.\n\"No, anna jo olla\", Lancelot virkkoi, \"min\u00e4 en ollut silloin kaukana\nsinusta, kun sinut ly\u00f6tiin ritariksi, Raynold herra, ja min\u00e4 tied\u00e4n\nsinut my\u00f6s kunnon ritariksi, eik\u00e4 minua haluta sinua surmata.\"\n\"Suur' kiitos hyvyydest\u00e4nne\", Raynold herra virkkoi, \"ja min\u00e4\nuskallan sanoa omasta ja veljieni puolesta, ett\u00e4 me mielell\u00e4mme\nantaudumme teille, jos me saamme tiet\u00e4\u00e4 teid\u00e4n nimenne, sill\u00e4 me\nn\u00e4emme kyll\u00e4, ett\u00e4 te ette ole Kay herra\".\n\"Sen asian laita olkoon kuinka hyv\u00e4ns\u00e4\", Lancelot vastasi, \"sill\u00e4\nteid\u00e4n tulee antautua Guinevere kuningattarelle. Katsokaa, ett\u00e4\nsaavutte h\u00e4nen luokseen helluntaip\u00e4iv\u00e4ksi ja antautukaa h\u00e4nen\narmoillensa ja sanokaa ett\u00e4 Kay herra teid\u00e4t l\u00e4hett\u00e4\u00e4.\"\nSilloin ritarit vannoivat niin tekev\u00e4ns\u00e4, ja Lancelot herra jatkoi\nmatkaansa.\nRatsastaessaan pitkin synkk\u00e4\u00e4 mets\u00e4\u00e4 h\u00e4n saapui aukeamaan ja n\u00e4ki\nsiell\u00e4 nelj\u00e4 ritaria tammen alla. Ne olivat kaikki Arthur kuninkaan\nhovista, ja Lancelot herra tunsi heid\u00e4t kaikki -- ne olivat:\nSagramour le Desirous, Ector de Maris, Gawaine herra ja Uwaine herra.\nKun he n\u00e4kiv\u00e4t Lancelotin ja h\u00e4nen varuksensa, niin he luulivat,\nett\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli Kay herra, ja p\u00e4\u00e4ttiv\u00e4t ruveta h\u00e4nen kanssaan otteluun\nkoetellakseen h\u00e4nen voimiansa. Mutta Lancelot herra k\u00e4vi vuoronper\u00e4\u00e4n\nkaikkien heid\u00e4n kimppuunsa ja kaatoi heid\u00e4t kaikki ja jatkoi\nmatkaansa naureskellen.\n\"Mit\u00e4s te sanotte t\u00e4st\u00e4 teosta\", Gawaine virkkoi, \"ett\u00e4 yksi peitsi\non kaatanut meid\u00e4t nelj\u00e4.\"\n\"Piru h\u00e4net perik\u00f6\u00f6n\", sanoivat he kaikki, \"sill\u00e4 h\u00e4n on sangen\nv\u00e4kev\u00e4 mies.\"\n\"Kyll\u00e4 h\u00e4nt\u00e4 saattaakin sanoa v\u00e4kev\u00e4ksi mieheksi\", Gawaine virkkoi,\n\"sill\u00e4 min\u00e4 uskallan panna p\u00e4\u00e4ni pantiksi, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n on Lancelot\nherra, min\u00e4 tunnen h\u00e4net ratsastuksestaan. Antaa h\u00e4nen menn\u00e4, sill\u00e4\nkun saavumme hoviin, niin saamme kuulla.\"\nLancelot ratsasti taas kauan aikaa synkk\u00e4\u00e4 mets\u00e4\u00e4 ja viimein h\u00e4n\nn\u00e4ki mustan koiran nuuskivan pitkin maata, ik\u00e4\u00e4nkuin se olisi ollut\nhaavoittuneen hirven j\u00e4ljill\u00e4, ja silloin Lancelot herra n\u00e4ki maassa\nverisen j\u00e4ljen. Niin h\u00e4n ratsasti koiran per\u00e4ss\u00e4, ja se katsoi v\u00e4h\u00e4n\nv\u00e4li\u00e4 taakseen. Se meni ison suon poikki, ja Lancelot seurasi sit\u00e4,\nja sitten h\u00e4n n\u00e4ki vanhan kartanon, ja sinne koira juoksi sillan\nyli, joka oli vanha ja heikko. Lancelot herra tuli isoon halliin ja\nkeskell\u00e4 hallia h\u00e4n n\u00e4ki makaamassa kuolleen ritarin, jalonn\u00e4k\u00f6isen\nmiehen, ja koira nuoli h\u00e4nen haavojansa.\nSilloin astui halliin muuan lady itkien ja v\u00e4\u00e4nnellen k\u00e4si\u00e4ns\u00e4.\n\"Oi ritari\", h\u00e4n huusi, \"liian paljo murhetta sin\u00e4 olet minulle\ntuottanut!\"\n\"Miksi te niin sanotte?\" Lancelot herra virkkoi. \"Min\u00e4 en ole t\u00e4lle\nritarille koskaan tehnyt mit\u00e4\u00e4n pahaa, sill\u00e4 t\u00e4nne toi minut tuo\nkoira verisi\u00e4 j\u00e4lki\u00e4 pitkin. Sent\u00e4hden jalo lady, \u00e4lk\u00e4\u00e4 olko minulle\nvihoissanne, sill\u00e4 min\u00e4 olen suuresti suruissani teid\u00e4n murheenne\nt\u00e4hden.\"\n\"Totisesti, herra\", nainen virkkoi, \"min\u00e4 tied\u00e4n ett\u00e4 te ette\nole minun puolisoani surmannut, sill\u00e4 se, joka teki sen teon, on\nvaikeasti haavoitettuna eik\u00e4 arvattavasti koskaan parane, -- siit\u00e4\nmin\u00e4 olen pit\u00e4v\u00e4 huolta.\"\n\"Mik\u00e4 oli teid\u00e4n puolisonne nimi?\" Lancelot herra kysyi.\n\"Herra\", nainen virkkoi, \"h\u00e4nt\u00e4 kutsuttiin Gilbert herraksi ja h\u00e4n\noli parhaimpia ritareita maan p\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4, enk\u00e4 min\u00e4 tied\u00e4 sen nime\u00e4, joka\nh\u00e4net surmasi.\"\n\"Jumala teit\u00e4 lohduttakoon ja auttakoon\", Lancelot herra virkkoi, ja\nniin h\u00e4n l\u00e4hti.\nSitten h\u00e4n meni taas mets\u00e4\u00e4n ja siell\u00e4 h\u00e4n kohtasi er\u00e4\u00e4n neidon, joka\ntunsi h\u00e4net hyvin.\n\"Mik\u00e4 onnellinen kohtaus, jalo herra!\" sanoi neito, \"min\u00e4 pyyd\u00e4n ja\nrukoilen sinua ritariutesi nimess\u00e4, auta minun velje\u00e4ni, joka on\nvaikeasti haavoitettuna. Sill\u00e4 t\u00e4n\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 h\u00e4n taisteli Gilbert\nherran kanssa ja surmasi h\u00e4net rehellisess\u00e4 taistelussa ja siin\u00e4\nminun veljeni vaikeasti haavoittui. Ja t\u00e4ss\u00e4 l\u00e4heisess\u00e4 linnassa asuu\nmuuan lady, velhonainen, ja h\u00e4n sanoi minulle t\u00e4n\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 ett\u00e4 minun\nveljeni haavat eiv\u00e4t parane, ennenkuin min\u00e4 tapaan ritarin, joka\nsuostuu menem\u00e4\u00e4n Vaarojen kappeliin, ja sielt\u00e4 h\u00e4n l\u00f6yt\u00e4\u00e4 miekan ja\nverisen vaipan, johon Gilbert herra oli k\u00e4\u00e4rittyn\u00e4. Ja tuo miekka ja\ntuon vaipan palanen parantaisivat minun veljeni haavat.\"\n\"T\u00e4m\u00e4p\u00e4 on ihmeellist\u00e4\", Lancelot virkkoi, \"mutta mik\u00e4 on teid\u00e4n\nveljenne nimi?\"\n\"Herra\", neito sanoi, \"Meliot de Logres on h\u00e4nen nimens\u00e4.\"\n\"Se surettaa minua\", Lancelot virkkoi, \"sill\u00e4 h\u00e4n on Py\u00f6re\u00e4n p\u00f6yd\u00e4n\nritareita, ja h\u00e4nt\u00e4 auttaakseni teen kaikki mit\u00e4 voin.\"\n\"Silloin, herra\", virkkoi neito, \"seuratkaa t\u00e4t\u00e4 valtatiet\u00e4, niin se\nvie teid\u00e4t Vaarojen kappeliin, ja min\u00e4 odotan t\u00e4ss\u00e4, kunnes Jumala\nl\u00e4hett\u00e4\u00e4 teid\u00e4t takaisin; ja jos te ette onnistu, niin min\u00e4 en tied\u00e4\nainoatakaan ritaria maan p\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4, joka saattaisi suorittaa t\u00e4m\u00e4n\nseikkailun.\"\nNiin Lancelot herra l\u00e4hti, ja kun h\u00e4n saapui Vaarojen kappelille,\nniin h\u00e4n hypp\u00e4si maahan ja sitoi ratsunsa pieneen porttiin.\nHeti kun h\u00e4n astui kirkkopihaan, niin h\u00e4n n\u00e4ki useita komeita kilpi\u00e4\nalassuin maassa, ja useita niist\u00e4 kilvist\u00e4 Lancelot herra oli ennen\nn\u00e4hnyt ritarien kantavan.\nSilloin h\u00e4n n\u00e4ki ymp\u00e4rill\u00e4\u00e4n seisovan kolmekymment\u00e4 isoa ritaria,\njokainen kolmea jalkaa pitempi kuin kukaan, jonka h\u00e4n oli n\u00e4hnyt, ja\nkaikki ne kiristeliv\u00e4t hampaitansa ja irvistiv\u00e4t Lancelot herralle.\nKun h\u00e4n n\u00e4ki heid\u00e4n k\u00e4yt\u00f6ksens\u00e4, niin h\u00e4nt\u00e4 pelotti suuresti ja\nh\u00e4n nosti kilpens\u00e4 eteens\u00e4 ja otti miekan k\u00e4teens\u00e4 ja valmistautui\ntaistelemaan. Ja kaikki nuo ritarit olivat puetut mustiin\nhaarniskoihin ja kilvet olivat koholla ja miekat paljastettuina.\nMutta kun Lancelot herra l\u00e4hti kulkemaan heid\u00e4n keskitsens\u00e4, niin he\nv\u00e4istyiv\u00e4t molemmin puolin ja antoivat h\u00e4nelle tiet\u00e4, ja siit\u00e4 h\u00e4nen\nrohkeutensa taas kasvoi ja h\u00e4n astui kappeliin.\nSiell\u00e4 h\u00e4n ei n\u00e4hnyt mit\u00e4\u00e4n muuta valoa kuin himme\u00e4n lampun palavan,\nja sitten h\u00e4n huomasi kuolleen ruumiin, joka oli k\u00e4\u00e4rittyn\u00e4\nsilkkivaippaan.\nLancelot herra kumartui ja leikkasi kappaleen vaipasta, ja silloin\nh\u00e4nest\u00e4 tuntui kuin maa olisi vavahtanut, ja siit\u00e4 h\u00e4n pel\u00e4styi.\nSitten h\u00e4n n\u00e4ki kauniin miekan kuolleen ritarin vieress\u00e4, ja h\u00e4n otti\nmiekan k\u00e4teens\u00e4 ja meni ulos kappelista.\nTuskin oli h\u00e4n astunut ulos kappelin pihalle, kun kaikki ritarit\nalkoivat julmistuneina puhua:\n\"Ritari, Lancelot herra, pane pois tuo miekka k\u00e4dest\u00e4si, taikka sin\u00e4\nolet kuoleman oma!\"\n\"Joko el\u00e4n tai kuolen\", Lancelot virkkoi, \"niin suuret sanat eiv\u00e4t\nsaa minua siit\u00e4 luopumaan. Taistelkaa siit\u00e4, jos tahdotte!\" Ja niin\nh\u00e4n tunkeusi heid\u00e4n l\u00e4vitsens\u00e4.\nKappelin pihan ulkopuolella kohtasi h\u00e4n kauniin neidon, joka virkkoi:\n\"Lancelot herra, heit\u00e4 tuo miekka taaksesi, taikka sin\u00e4 olet kuoleman\noma!\"\n\"Ei pyynn\u00f6t eik\u00e4 rukoukset saa minua siit\u00e4 luopumaan\", Lancelot\nvirkkoi.\n\"Vai ei\", neito virkkoi, \"jos sin\u00e4 olisit heitt\u00e4nyt pois tuon miekan,\nniin sin\u00e4 et en\u00e4\u00e4 ikin\u00e4 olisi saanut n\u00e4hd\u00e4 Guinevere kuningatarta.\"\n\"Sittenh\u00e4n olisin hullu, jos sen heitt\u00e4isin\", Lancelot virkkoi.\n\"No, ritari kulta\", neito virkkoi, \"anna minulle edes yksi suudelma.\"\n\"Enp\u00e4 toki\", Lancelot virkkoi, \"siit\u00e4 Jumala minua varjelkoon!\"\n\"No niin, herra\", neiti virkkoi, \"jos sin\u00e4 olisit suudellut minua,\nniin sinun viimeinen hetkesi olisi ly\u00f6nyt. Mutta voi minua\", h\u00e4n\nvirkkoi, \"nyt olen hukkaan n\u00e4hnyt kaiken t\u00e4m\u00e4n vaivan. Sill\u00e4\nmin\u00e4 laitoin tuon kappelin sinun t\u00e4htesi. Ja tied\u00e4 nyt, Lancelot\nherra, ett\u00e4 min\u00e4 olen sinua rakastanut seitsem\u00e4n vuotta, mutta ei\nkenenk\u00e4\u00e4n naisen ole suotu saada sinun rakkauttasi, paitsi Guinevere\nkuningattaren. Ja koska min\u00e4 en voinut saada sinua el\u00e4v\u00e4n\u00e4, niin\nminulla ei ollut suurempaa iloa t\u00e4ss\u00e4 maailmassa kuin saada sinun\nkuollut ruumiisi. Min\u00e4 olisin sen balsamoinut ja s\u00e4ilytt\u00e4nyt sit\u00e4 ja\npit\u00e4nyt sit\u00e4 luonani kaiken el\u00e4m\u00e4ni ajan, ja joka p\u00e4iv\u00e4 min\u00e4 olisin\nsinua suudellut Guinevere kuningattaren kiusalla.\"\n\"Hyvin sin\u00e4 puhut\", Lancelot herra virkkoi. \"Jumala varjelkoon minua\nsinun kavaloista vehkeist\u00e4si!\"\nJa samalla h\u00e4n otti ratsunsa ja l\u00e4hti.\nJa kun Lancelot herra oli l\u00e4htenyt, niin tuo neito vaipui niin\nsuureen suruun, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n kuoli ennenkuin kaksi viikkoa oli kulunut.\nJa h\u00e4nen nimens\u00e4 oli Hellawes, ja h\u00e4n oli velho ja Nigramousin linnan\nlady.\nPian Lancelot herra tapasi Meliot herran sisaren ja kun tytt\u00f6 n\u00e4ki\nh\u00e4net, niin h\u00e4n taputti k\u00e4si\u00e4ns\u00e4 ja itki ilosta, ja sitten he\nratsastivat l\u00e4heiseen linnaan, jossa Meliot herra makasi.\nHeti kun Lancelot herra n\u00e4ki h\u00e4net, niin h\u00e4n tunsi h\u00e4net Arthur\nkuninkaan ritariksi, mutta Meliot herra oli kalmankalpea paljosta\nveren vuotamisesta. Silloin Lancelot juoksi h\u00e4nen luokseen ja\nkosketti h\u00e4nen haavojaan Gilbert herran miekalla ja pyyhki niit\u00e4 sen\nvaipan kappaleella, johon Gilbert herra oli ollut k\u00e4\u00e4rittyn\u00e4, ja heti\nMeliot herra parani ja nousi yl\u00f6s terveemp\u00e4n\u00e4 ja voimakkaampana kuin\nh\u00e4n koskaan el\u00e4m\u00e4ss\u00e4\u00e4n oli ollut.\nSitten iloittiin ja riemuittiin ja Lancelot herraa kestittiin\nparhaan mukaan. Ja kun Lancelot seuraavana aamuna l\u00e4hti, niin h\u00e4n\nk\u00e4ski Meliot herran kiirehtim\u00e4\u00e4n Arthur kuninkaan hoviin, sill\u00e4\nhelluntaijuhla l\u00e4heni, ja siell\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli tapaava Meliot herran, jos\nJumala niin salli.\nHaukan kavaluus.\nSitten Lancelot herra ratsasti l\u00e4pi monen oudon seudun, yli soiden\nja halki laaksojen, kunnes h\u00e4n sattumalta saapui kauniille linnalle,\nja kun h\u00e4n kulki linnan ohi, niin h\u00e4n luuli kuulleensa kahden\nkellon soivan. Silloin h\u00e4n huomasi haukan, joka tuli lent\u00e4en h\u00e4nen\np\u00e4\u00e4ns\u00e4 yl\u00e4puolella. Se lensi korkeaa jalavaa kohden, ja sen koipien\nymp\u00e4rille oli kiedottu pitk\u00e4t nauhat, ja kun se lensi jalavaan, niin\nnauhat takertuivat jalavan haaraan. Ja kun se olisi taas l\u00e4htenyt\nlentoon, niin se j\u00e4i riippumaan kiinni koivistansa, ja Lancelot herra\nn\u00e4ki kuinka se riippui, ja h\u00e4nt\u00e4 s\u00e4\u00e4litti tuo kaunis haukka.\nSill\u00e4v\u00e4lin tuli muuan lady linnasta ja huusi:\n\"Voi Lancelot, Lancelot, sin\u00e4 joka olet kaikkien ritarien kukka, auta\nminua saamaan takaisin haukkani, sill\u00e4 jos minun haukkani hukkuu,\nniin minun herrani surmaa minut. Sill\u00e4 min\u00e4 pidin tuota haukkaa, ja\nse livahti minun k\u00e4sist\u00e4ni, ja jos minun mieheni saa sen tiet\u00e4\u00e4, niin\nh\u00e4n kiivaudessaan tappaa minut.\"\n\"Mik\u00e4 on teid\u00e4n miehenne nimi?\" Lancelot virkkoi.\n\"Herra\", nainen virkkoi, \"h\u00e4nen nimens\u00e4 on Phelot herra, ja h\u00e4n on\nPohjois-Walesin kuninkaan ritareita.\"\n\"No niin, jalo rouva, koska te tunnette minun nimeni ja pyyd\u00e4tte\nminua ritariuteni nimess\u00e4 teit\u00e4 auttamaan, niin tahdon tehd\u00e4\nvoitavani saadakseni kiinni teid\u00e4n haukkanne. Mutta min\u00e4 olen huono\nkiipeej\u00e4 ja tuo puu on sangen korkea ja vain harvoista oksista\nminulla on apua.\"\nSitten Lancelot herra hypp\u00e4si maahan ja sitoi ratsunsa kiinni samaan\npuuhun ja pyysi lady\u00e4 auttamaan varuksia h\u00e4nen p\u00e4\u00e4lt\u00e4\u00e4n. Ja kun\nLancelot herra oli saanut ylt\u00e4\u00e4n kaikki aseensa, niin h\u00e4n riisui\nkaikki vaatteensakin, paitsi paidan ja housut, ja voimakkain ottein\nja taitavasti h\u00e4n kiipesi haukan luo ja sitoi nauhat ison lahon oksan\nymp\u00e4rille ja heitti sen ja haukan maahan.\nSilloin lady heti otti haukan k\u00e4siins\u00e4. Ja yht'\u00e4kki\u00e4 karkasi\nmetsik\u00f6st\u00e4 esiin Phelot herra, h\u00e4nen miehens\u00e4, aseissa kiireest\u00e4\nkantap\u00e4\u00e4h\u00e4n asti ja paljastettu miekka k\u00e4dess\u00e4.\n\"Oi ritari, Lancelot, nyt olen sinut saanut k\u00e4siini, niinkuin\ntahdoin\", h\u00e4n huusi ja pys\u00e4htyi puun juurelle iske\u00e4kseen h\u00e4nt\u00e4\nmiekallansa.\n\"Voi lady\", Lancelot herra virkkoi, \"mink\u00e4t\u00e4hden te minut petitte?\"\n\"H\u00e4n teki vain niinkuin min\u00e4 h\u00e4nen k\u00e4skin tehd\u00e4\", Phelot herra\nvirkkoi, \"eik\u00e4 nyt mik\u00e4\u00e4n sinua auta, vaan nyt sinun hetkesi on\ntullut, sill\u00e4 sinun pit\u00e4\u00e4 kuoleman.\"\n\"Se olisi sinun h\u00e4pe\u00e4si\", Lancelot herra virkkoi, \"sin\u00e4k\u00f6 asestettu\nritari kavalasti surmaisit aseettoman miehen!\"\n\"Ei t\u00e4ss\u00e4 armotkaan auta\", Phelot herra virkkoi, \"auta sent\u00e4hden\nitse\u00e4si jos voit.\"\n\"Totisesti\", Lancelot virkkoi, \"itsellesi sin\u00e4 sill\u00e4 h\u00e4pe\u00e4t\u00e4 tuotat.\nMutta koska sin\u00e4 et tahdo toisin tehd\u00e4, niin anna minulle edes\nvarukseni ja ripusta miekkani puun oksaan, niin ett\u00e4 sen siit\u00e4 saan,\nja tee sitten parastasi ja surmaa minut jos voit.\"\n\"Enp\u00e4 toki\", Phelot herra sanoi, \"sill\u00e4 min\u00e4 tunnen sinut paremmin\nkuin luuletkaan. Sent\u00e4hden sin\u00e4 et saa mit\u00e4\u00e4n aseita, jos min\u00e4 vain\nvoin sen est\u00e4\u00e4.\"\n\"Voi!\" Lancelot herra huudahti, \"ett\u00e4 ritarin t\u00e4ytyy kuolla\naseetonna!\"\nSitten h\u00e4n katsoi yllens\u00e4 ja allensa, ja p\u00e4\u00e4ns\u00e4 p\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 h\u00e4n n\u00e4ki ison\nlehdett\u00f6m\u00e4n oksan, josta haaraantui muita oksia, ja sen h\u00e4n katkaisi\npuun rungosta. Sitten h\u00e4n tuli alemmaksi ja tarkasti miss\u00e4 h\u00e4nen\nratsunsa seisoi ja yht'\u00e4kki\u00e4 h\u00e4n hypp\u00e4si sen taakse. Phelot herra\ntavoitti h\u00e4nt\u00e4 kiivaasti miekallaan ja luuli osanneensa h\u00e4neen. Mutta\nLancelot herra v\u00e4isti iskun puun oksalla ja l\u00e4im\u00e4ytti sill\u00e4 Phelot\nherraa p\u00e4\u00e4n seuduille, niin ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n vaipui tainnoksissa maahan.\nSilloin Lancelot otti Phelot herran miekan t\u00e4m\u00e4n k\u00e4dest\u00e4 ja l\u00f6i\npoikki h\u00e4nen p\u00e4\u00e4ns\u00e4.\n\"Voi, miksi sin\u00e4 surmasit minun mieheni?\" huusi lady.\n\"Ei minussa ole syyt\u00e4\", Lancelot virkkoi, \"sill\u00e4 viekkaudella\nja kavaluudella te koetitte minua surmata ja nyt olette saaneet\nrangaistuksenne molemmat.\"\nSilloin lady vaipui tainnoksiin ja oli kuin kuollut.\nLancelot herra otti kaikki varuksensa niin hyvin kuin taisi ja\npani joutuin ylleen, sill\u00e4 h\u00e4n pelk\u00e4si uutta p\u00e4\u00e4llekarkausta, kun\nritarin linna oli niin l\u00e4hell\u00e4. Ja niin nopeasti kuin suinkin h\u00e4n\notti ratsunsa ja l\u00e4hti, kiitt\u00e4en Jumalaa, ett\u00e4 oli selvinnyt siit\u00e4\nseikkailusta.\nKaksi p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4 ennen helluntaijuhlaa h\u00e4n palasi kotia, ja kuningas ja\nkoko hovi riemuitsi suuresti h\u00e4nen tulostansa. Kun ne nelj\u00e4 ritaria,\njoiden kanssa h\u00e4n oli mets\u00e4ss\u00e4 taistellut, n\u00e4kiv\u00e4t h\u00e4nen tulevan\nKay herran varuksissa, niin he heti tunsivat, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n se heid\u00e4t\noli yhdell\u00e4 ainoalla peitsell\u00e4 maahan sy\u00f6ssyt, ja he hymyiliv\u00e4t ja\nnaureskelivat kovin kesken\u00e4\u00e4n. Ja kaikki ritarit, joita Turquine\nherra oli pit\u00e4nyt vankeudessa, saapuivat joukottain kotiin, ja kaikki\nhe ylistiv\u00e4t ja kunnioittivat Lancelot herraa. Kun Gaheris herra\nkuuli heid\u00e4n puhuvan, niin h\u00e4n sanoi: \"Min\u00e4 n\u00e4in koko taistelun\nalusta loppuun saakka\", ja h\u00e4n kertoi Arthur kuninkaalle, kuinka\nse oli k\u00e4ynyt ja kuinka Turquine herra oli v\u00e4kevin ritari mit\u00e4 h\u00e4n\nmilloinkaan oli n\u00e4hnyt, Lancelot herraa lukuunottamatta. Ja l\u00e4hes\nkuusikymment\u00e4 ritaria kantoi siell\u00e4 Lancelot herralle kiitostansa.\nSitten Kay herra kertoi kuninkaalle, kuinka Lancelot herra oli\npelastanut h\u00e4net, kun h\u00e4n oli joutumaisillaan surman suuhun y\u00f6n\npimeydess\u00e4 sen kartanon ulkopuolella, jossa Lancelot herra oli y\u00f6t\u00e4;\nja kuinka t\u00e4m\u00e4 oli k\u00e4skenyt ritarien antautua Kay herralle eik\u00e4\nitsellens\u00e4. Ja siin\u00e4 nuo ritarit olivat, kaikki kolme, ja kantoivat\nkiitostansa.\n\"Ja kautta kunniani\", Kay herra virkkoi, \"koska Lancelot herra otti\nminun haarniskani ja j\u00e4tti minulle omansa, niin min\u00e4 sain ratsastaa\nrauhassa, eik\u00e4 kukaan tahtonut koskea minuun.\"\nSitten saapuivat my\u00f6s nuo kolme ritaria, jotka taistelivat pitk\u00e4ll\u00e4\nsillalla Lancelotia vastaan, ja he tahtoivat antautua Kay herralle.\nMutta Kay ei ottanut heid\u00e4n antautumistaan vastaan, vaan sanoi ettei\nh\u00e4n koskaan ollut heid\u00e4n kanssaan taistellut.\n\"Mutta min\u00e4 tahdon kevent\u00e4\u00e4 teid\u00e4n mieli\u00e4nne\", h\u00e4n virkkoi; \"tuolla\non Lancelot herra, joka teid\u00e4t voitti.\"\nJa kun he sen kuulivat, niin he riemastuivat.\nSitten Meliot de Logres tuli kotiin ja kertoi Arthur kuninkaalle,\nkuinka Lancelot herra oli pelastanut h\u00e4net kuolemasta uhmaamalla\nennen tuntemattomia vaaroja ja Vaarojen kappelin ilkeit\u00e4 taikoja.\nJa kaikki h\u00e4nen tekonsa tulivat tunnetuiksi, -- kuinka nelj\u00e4\nkuningatarta, jotka olivat ilkeit\u00e4 velhoja, pitiv\u00e4t h\u00e4nt\u00e4 vankeudessa\nja kuinka Bagdemagus kuninkaan tyt\u00e4r h\u00e4net pelasti. Samoin\nkerrottiin kaikki ne aseteot, jotka Lancelot herra oli tehnyt niiss\u00e4\nturnajaisissa, joissa taistelivat nuo molemmat kuninkaat, nimitt\u00e4in\nPohjois-Walesin kuningas ja Bagdemagus kuningas.\nNiin ett\u00e4 siihen aikaan Lancelot herralla oli mainioin nimi kaikkien\nritarien joukossa maan p\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4, ja sek\u00e4 ylh\u00e4iset ett\u00e4 alhaiset pitiv\u00e4t\nh\u00e4nt\u00e4 kaikkein suurimmassa kunniassa.\nMETS\u00c4N RITARI TRISTRAM\nTristramin lapsuus.\n \"Poika\", h\u00e4n virkkoi, \"sun nimes' olkoon surun;\n Tristram se olkoon mun kuoloni t\u00e4hden.\"\n Niin h\u00e4n virkkoi ja mets\u00e4\u00e4n synkk\u00e4\u00e4n kuoli.\n Murheeseen mustaan puolison j\u00e4tti.\nOli kerran kuningas nimelt\u00e4 Meliodas, ja h\u00e4n oli Lyonessen maan\nvaltias, ja t\u00e4m\u00e4 kuningas Meliodas oli niin jalo ritari kuin kukaan\nsiihen aikaan el\u00e4vist\u00e4. H\u00e4nen vaimonsa oli Cornwallin kuninkaan\nMarkin sisar; h\u00e4nen nimens\u00e4 oli Elizabeth, ja h\u00e4n oli sek\u00e4 hyv\u00e4\nett\u00e4 kaunis. Siihen aikaan hallitsi Arthur kuningas ja h\u00e4n oli koko\nEnglannin, Walesin ja Skotlannin ja monen muun valtakunnan kuningas.\nMonessa seudussa oli kyll\u00e4 monta kuningasta, mutta he olivat kaikki\nsaaneet maansa Arthur kuninkaalta. Sill\u00e4 Walesissa oli kaksi\nkuningasta ja pohjoisessa oli monta kuningasta; ja Cornwallissa ja\nl\u00e4nness\u00e4 oli kaksi kuningasta; samoin Irlannissa oli kaksi tai kolme\nkuningasta; mutta kaikki he olivat Arthur kuninkaan vasalleja.\nMeliodas kuninkaan vaimo oli hyv\u00e4 ja lempe\u00e4 nainen, ja h\u00e4n rakasti\nsuuresti puolisoansa, ja t\u00e4m\u00e4 samoin h\u00e4nt\u00e4, ja he eliv\u00e4t sangen\nonnellisina yhdess\u00e4. Mutta siin\u00e4 maassa oli muuan lady, joka oli\nkovasti kiukuissaan, sill\u00e4 h\u00e4n olisi itse jo aikoja sitten tahtonut\np\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 Meliodas kuninkaan puolisoksi, vaikk'ei t\u00e4m\u00e4 koskaan ollut\nh\u00e4nt\u00e4 rakastanut. Er\u00e4\u00e4n\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 kun kuningas meni mets\u00e4st\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n, tuo\nlady saattoi h\u00e4nen taikojensa avulla ajamaan takaa hirve\u00e4, kunnes\nh\u00e4n saapui er\u00e4\u00e4lle vanhalle linnalle, ja siell\u00e4 kuningas joutui tuon\nh\u00e4ijyn ladyn vangiksi.\nKun Elizabeth kuningattaren puoliso ei palannut, niin h\u00e4n oli aivan\ntulla hulluksi surusta, ja h\u00e4n otti er\u00e4\u00e4n kamarirouvan mukaansa ja\nriensi mets\u00e4\u00e4n kuningasta etsim\u00e4\u00e4n.\nJa siell\u00e4, keskell\u00e4 tuota kylm\u00e4\u00e4 ja kolkkoa mets\u00e4\u00e4, syntyi pieni\npoika, mutta kuolema tuli \u00e4itiraukan luo. Ja kun kuningatar n\u00e4ki\nettei mik\u00e4\u00e4n auttanut, vaan ett\u00e4 h\u00e4nen t\u00e4ytyi kuolla ja j\u00e4tt\u00e4\u00e4 t\u00e4m\u00e4\nmaailma, niin h\u00e4n k\u00e4vi kovin surulliseksi.\n\"Kun te n\u00e4ette minun puolisoni, Meliodas kuninkaan, niin sulkekaa\nminut h\u00e4nen suosioonsa\", h\u00e4n sanoi kamarirouvallensa, \"ja kertokaa\nh\u00e4nelle, mit\u00e4 min\u00e4 t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 rakkaudesta h\u00e4neen olen k\u00e4rsinyt ja kuinka\nminun t\u00e4ytyy t\u00e4nne kuolla kenelt\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n apua saamatta. Ja ilmoittakaa\nh\u00e4nelle, ett\u00e4 minua suuresti surettaa ett\u00e4 minun t\u00e4ytyy j\u00e4tt\u00e4\u00e4 t\u00e4m\u00e4\nmaailma ja h\u00e4net, \u00e4lk\u00f6\u00f6n h\u00e4n sent\u00e4hden minua unhoittako. Ja n\u00e4ytt\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4\nnyt minulle pieni lapseni, jonka vuoksi min\u00e4 olen kaiken t\u00e4m\u00e4n tuskan\nk\u00e4rsinyt.\" Ja kun h\u00e4n n\u00e4ki lapsen, niin h\u00e4n sanoi hell\u00e4sti leikki\u00e4\nlaskien: \"voi pikku poikani, sin\u00e4 olet tappanut \u00e4itisi, ja senvuoksi\nsinusta, joka olet murhaaja niin nuorena, varmaankin tulee miehek\u00e4s\nmies aikoinasi.\" Sitten h\u00e4n k\u00e4ski kamarirouvaa hartaasti pyyt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n,\nett\u00e4 Meliodas kuningas antaisi lapselle nimeksi \"Tristram\" -- se\nmerkitsee niin paljo kuin: \"surussa syntynyt.\"\nJa sen sanottuaan kuningatar kuoli.\nKamarirouva pani h\u00e4net suuren puun varjoon ja peitti lapsen niin\nhyvin kuin taisi kylm\u00e4\u00e4 vastaan. Sill\u00e4 hetkell\u00e4 saapuivat paikalle\nparoonit, jotka olivat l\u00e4hteneet kuningatarta hakemaan, ja kun\nhe n\u00e4kiv\u00e4t ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli kuollut, ja kuvittelivat mieless\u00e4\u00e4n ett\u00e4\nkuningaskin oli saanut surmansa, niin muutamat heist\u00e4 tahtoivat\ntappaa lapsenkin, niin ett\u00e4 he olisivat p\u00e4\u00e4sseet Lyonessen maan\nherroiksi.\nMutta kamarirouva rukoili niin kauniisti lapsen puolesta, ett\u00e4\nuseimmat paroonit eiv\u00e4t siihen suostuneet.\nSitten he kantoivat kuningatarvainajan kotiin, ja suuresti h\u00e4nt\u00e4\nmurehdittiin.\nSill\u00e4v\u00e4lin Merlin, tuo suuri tiet\u00e4j\u00e4, vapautti Meliodas kuninkaan\nvankeudesta kuningattaren kuoleman j\u00e4lkeisen\u00e4 aamuna, ja kun kuningas\npalasi kotia, niin useimmat paroonit iloitsivat. Mutta sit\u00e4 surua,\nmihin kuningattaren kuolema kuninkaan saattoi, sit\u00e4 ei yksik\u00e4\u00e4n kieli\nvoi kertoa.\nKuningas piti h\u00e4nelle komeat maahanpaniaiset, ja sitten h\u00e4n kastatti\nlapsen, niinkuin h\u00e4nen vaimonsa ennen kuolemaansa oli m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4nnyt; ja\nh\u00e4n antoi sille nimeksi \"Tristram\" -- lapsi, joka on surussa syntynyt.\nSeitsem\u00e4n vuotta Meliodas kuningas murehti vaimoansa, ja koko sen\najan pient\u00e4 Tristramia hoidettiin hyvin.\nMutta sitten tapahtui, ett\u00e4 Meliodas kuningas nai Brittanyn herttuan\nHowellin tytt\u00e4ren. Ennen pitk\u00e4\u00e4 uusi kuningatar sai itsekin lapsia,\nja h\u00e4ness\u00e4 her\u00e4tti kateutta ja h\u00e4nt\u00e4 suututti, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4nen omat\nlapsensa eiv\u00e4t saisi omistaa Lyonessen maata, ja senvuoksi h\u00e4n mietti\nmiten h\u00e4n saisi surmatuksi nuoren Tristramin. Niin h\u00e4n pani myrkky\u00e4\nhopeamaljaan ja asetti sen siihen huoneesen, jossa Tristram ja h\u00e4nen\nlapsensa yhdess\u00e4 leikkiv\u00e4t, siin\u00e4 tarkoituksessa ett\u00e4 Tristram joisi\nsiit\u00e4 kun h\u00e4nen tulisi jano. Mutta k\u00e4vikin niin ett\u00e4 kuningattaren\noma pieni poika huomasi myrkkymaljan ja luuli ett\u00e4 siin\u00e4 oli hyv\u00e4\u00e4\njuotavaa, ja janoissaan kun oli, h\u00e4n tyhjensi sen suurella halulla ja\nkuoli \u00e4kki\u00e4 siihen paikkaan.\nKun kuningatar kuuli poikansa kuolemasta, niin voitte mieless\u00e4nne\nkuvitella kuinka surulliseksi h\u00e4n k\u00e4vi. Mutta kuningas ei ensink\u00e4\u00e4n\naavistanut puolisonsa kavaluutta. Mutta lapsensa kuolemastakaan\nhuolimatta kuningatar ei sent\u00e4\u00e4n tahtonut luopua ilke\u00e4st\u00e4\naikeestansa, vaan uudestaan h\u00e4n otti enemm\u00e4n myrkky\u00e4 ja pani maljaan.\nSattumalta Meliodas kuningas silloin n\u00e4ki tuon myrkytetyn viinin, ja\nkun h\u00e4n oli kovin janoissaan, niin h\u00e4n otti maljan juodakseen siit\u00e4.\nMutta juuri kun h\u00e4n oli juomaisillaan, kuningatar huomasi sen ja h\u00e4n\njuoksi kuninkaan luokse ja tempasi \u00e4kki\u00e4 maljan h\u00e4nen k\u00e4dest\u00e4ns\u00e4.\nKuningas ihmetteli kovin, miksi h\u00e4n niin teki, ja muisti sitten\nkuinka h\u00e4nen poikansa oli \u00e4kki\u00e4 kuollut myrkyst\u00e4. Silloin h\u00e4n otti\nkuningatarta k\u00e4dest\u00e4 ja virkkoi:\n\"Sin\u00e4 kavala petturi, sinun pit\u00e4\u00e4 sanoa minulle, mit\u00e4 lajia juomaa\nt\u00e4m\u00e4 on, taikka min\u00e4 ly\u00f6n sinut kuoliaaksi.\" Ja niin sanoessaan h\u00e4n\npaljasti miekkansa.\n\"Voi armoa, herrani\", kuningatar huusi, \"min\u00e4 kerron teille kaikki.\"\nSitten h\u00e4n kertoi, kuinka h\u00e4n olisi tahtonut tappaa Tristramin, niin\nett\u00e4 h\u00e4nen omat lapsensa olisivat saaneet peri\u00e4 maan.\n\"Vai niin\", kuningas virkkoi, \"t\u00e4st\u00e4 laki teit\u00e4 rangaiskoon.\"\nParoonien kokouksessa tuo h\u00e4ijy kuningatar tuomittiin poltettavaksi,\nja iso rovio rakennettiin. Mutta kun kuningatar jo oli roviolla ja\nh\u00e4nen piti k\u00e4rsi\u00e4 rangaistuksensa, niin nuori Tristram polvistui\nMeliodas kuninkaan eteen ja pyysi, ett\u00e4 t\u00e4m\u00e4 lupaisi h\u00e4nelle yhden\nasian.\n\"Mielell\u00e4ni sen teen\", kuningas virkkoi.\n\"Antakaa siis minulle\", nuori Tristram sanoi, \"\u00e4itipuoleni,\nkuningattaren, henki.\"\n\"Sit\u00e4 pyyt\u00e4ess\u00e4si et tee oikein, sill\u00e4 sinun pit\u00e4isi oikeutta my\u00f6ten\nh\u00e4nt\u00e4 vihaaman, sill\u00e4 h\u00e4n olisi sinut surmannut, jos h\u00e4n vain olisi\nsaanut tahtonsa t\u00e4ytetyksi; ja sinun t\u00e4htesi on kaikkein viisainta\nett\u00e4 h\u00e4n kuolee.\"\n\"Herra\", Tristram virkkoi, \"min\u00e4 rukoilen teit\u00e4, antakaa h\u00e4nelle\narmossanne anteeksi, ja mit\u00e4 minuun tulee, niin Jumala antakoon\nh\u00e4nelle anteeksi, niinkuin min\u00e4 olen antanut! Ja koska teid\u00e4n\nkorkeutenne suvaitsi suostua minun pyynt\u00f6\u00f6ni, niin min\u00e4 rukoilen\nteit\u00e4 Jumalan rakkauden t\u00e4hden pit\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n lupauksenne.\"\n\"Koska niin on asianlaita, niin tahdon antaa h\u00e4nen henkens\u00e4 teid\u00e4n\nk\u00e4siinne\", kuningas virkkoi. \"Min\u00e4 annan h\u00e4net teille. Menk\u00e4\u00e4\nroviolle ja ottakaa h\u00e4net ja tehk\u00e4\u00e4 h\u00e4nelle mit\u00e4 tahdotte.\"\nNiin Tristram meni roviolle ja pelasti kuninkaan m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4yksest\u00e4\nkuningattaren kuolemasta.\nPitk\u00e4\u00e4n aikaan Meliodas kuningas ei tahtonut olla miss\u00e4\u00e4n tekemisiss\u00e4\nkuningattaren kanssa, mutta viimein nuoren Tristramin hyv\u00e4st\u00e4\nvaikutuksesta h\u00e4n teki sovinnon vaimonsa kanssa. Eik\u00e4 kuningatar\nkoskaan unhoittanut, kuinka hyv\u00e4 Tristram oli ollut h\u00e4nt\u00e4 kohtaan,\nvaan rakasti hell\u00e4sti Tristramia senj\u00e4lkeen.\nKuninkaallinen ritari.\nKun Meliodas kuningas oli sopinut kuningattarensa kanssa, niin h\u00e4n\nhankki opettajan, joka oli viisas ja oppinut, ja h\u00e4nen hoivassaan h\u00e4n\nl\u00e4hetti nuoren Tristramin Ranskaan oppimaan sen maan kielt\u00e4 ja tapoja\nja asetekoja. Ja opettajansa Gouvernailin keralla Tristram oli siell\u00e4\nenemm\u00e4n kuin seitsem\u00e4n vuotta. Kun h\u00e4n osasi puhua hyvin maan kielt\u00e4\nja kun h\u00e4n oli oppinut kaikki mit\u00e4 h\u00e4n saattoi oppia siin\u00e4 maassa,\nniin h\u00e4n palasi takaisin is\u00e4ns\u00e4 Meliodas kuninkaan luo. Ja sitten\nTristram opetteli soittamaan harppua ja voitti siin\u00e4 taidossa kaikki\nmuut, niin ettei mist\u00e4\u00e4n maasta l\u00f6ydetty h\u00e4nen vertaistansa. Siten\nh\u00e4n nuoruudessaan opetteli soittamaan harppua ja kaikkia soittimia,\nja my\u00f6hemmin kun h\u00e4n kasvoi voimassa ja v\u00e4kevyydess\u00e4, h\u00e4n harrasti\najomets\u00e4styst\u00e4 ja haukkajahtia enemm\u00e4n kuin koskaan kenenk\u00e4\u00e4n\naatelismiehen on kuultu harrastaneen. H\u00e4n saattoi k\u00e4yt\u00e4nt\u00f6\u00f6n hyvi\u00e4\nmenettelytapoja kaikkinaisten isojen ja pienten mets\u00e4el\u00e4inten\npyydyst\u00e4misess\u00e4 ja h\u00e4n keksi kaikki ne sanat, joita k\u00e4ytet\u00e4\u00e4n\najomets\u00e4styksess\u00e4 ja haukkajahdissa. Senvuoksi Mets\u00e4styskirjaa, jossa\nneuvotaan pyydystyst\u00e4, ajomets\u00e4styst\u00e4 ja haukkajahtia, sanotaankin\nTristram herran kirjaksi. Ja sent\u00e4hden kaikkien aatelismiesten, jotka\nkantavat aseita, tulee hyv\u00e4ll\u00e4 syyll\u00e4 kunnioittaa Tristram herraa,\nsill\u00e4 h\u00e4n opetti sellaisia mets\u00e4styssanoja, joita aatelismiehet\nk\u00e4ytt\u00e4v\u00e4t viel\u00e4 t\u00e4n\u00e4kin p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4, niin ett\u00e4 kaikki saattavat\neroittaa aatelismiehen halpasukuisesta miehest\u00e4. Sill\u00e4 se, joka on\njalosukuinen, seuraa toisten ylh\u00e4issyntyisten tapoja.\nTristram pysyi poissa, kunnes h\u00e4nest\u00e4 oli tullut iso ja v\u00e4kev\u00e4 ja\nh\u00e4n oli t\u00e4ytt\u00e4nyt yhdeks\u00e4ntoista vuotta. Kun h\u00e4n palasi kotia,\nniin Meliodas kuningas iloitsi suuresti pojastansa ja samoin h\u00e4nen\npuolisonsa, kuningatar. Sill\u00e4 senj\u00e4lkeen kun Tristram oli pelastanut\nkuningattaren roviolla kuolemasta, t\u00e4m\u00e4 rakasti h\u00e4nt\u00e4 koko el\u00e4m\u00e4ns\u00e4\najan ja antoi h\u00e4nelle paljon kalliita lahjoja. Ja minne ikin\u00e4\nTristram meni, niin kaikki h\u00e4nest\u00e4 pitiv\u00e4t.\nPian senj\u00e4lkeen kun Tristram oli palannut Ranskasta, tapahtui ett\u00e4\nIrlannin kuningas Anguish l\u00e4hetti hakemaan Cornwallin kuninkaalta\nMarkilta sit\u00e4 veroa, jota Cornwall monta talvea oli maksanut\nIrlannille. Mutta seitsem\u00e4\u00e4n vuoteen Mark kuningas ei ollut sit\u00e4\nmaksanut, ja nyt h\u00e4n ja h\u00e4nen parooninsa vastasivat Irlannin\nl\u00e4hettil\u00e4\u00e4lle, etteiv\u00e4t he maksaisikaan mit\u00e4\u00e4n.\n\"Sanokaa herrallenne\", he virkkoivat, \"ett\u00e4 jos h\u00e4n yh\u00e4 edelleenkin\ntahtoo saada veroa Cornwallista, niin l\u00e4hett\u00e4k\u00f6\u00f6n h\u00e4n jonkun uljaan\nritarin taistelemaan oikeutensa puolesta, ja me hankimme toisen\nritarin puolustamaan omaa oikeuttamme.\"\nSen vastauksen l\u00e4hettil\u00e4s vei Irlantiin.\nAnguish kuningas suuttui kovin siit\u00e4 vastauksesta, ja h\u00e4n kutsui\nluokseen Marhaus herran, tuon oivan ritarin, joka oli tunnettu\nuljuudestaan ja joka kuului Py\u00f6re\u00e4\u00e4n p\u00f6yt\u00e4\u00e4n ja oli Irlannin\nkuningattaren veli.\n\"Jalo veli\", h\u00e4n virkkoi, \"pyyd\u00e4n ett\u00e4 te menisitte Cornwalliin ja\ntaistelisitte meid\u00e4n veromme puolesta, joka oikeutta my\u00f6ten on meille\ntuleva; ja kulukoon teilt\u00e4 kuinka paljon tahansa, niin te olette\nsaapa enemm\u00e4n kuin kylliksi tarpeisiinne.\"\nMarhaus herra suostui mielell\u00e4ns\u00e4 ja valmistautui kaikessa kiireess\u00e4\nmatkalle, ja l\u00e4hti Irlannista ja saapui Cornwalliin l\u00e4helle\nTintagelin linnaa.\nMark kuningas oli suuresti suruissansa, kun h\u00e4n kuuli ett\u00e4 tuo uljas\nja jalo Marhaus herra oli saapunut taistelemaan Irlannin puolesta,\nsill\u00e4 h\u00e4n ei tiet\u00e4nyt ket\u00e4\u00e4n ritaria, joka olisi uskaltanut taistella\nh\u00e4nen kanssaan, sill\u00e4 siihen aikaan Marhaus herra oli maailman\nmainioimpia ja kuuluisimpia ritareita.\nNiin Marhaus herra odotti laivassaan Cornwallin edustalla, ja joka\np\u00e4iv\u00e4 h\u00e4n l\u00e4hetti Mark kuninkaalle sanan, ett\u00e4 t\u00e4m\u00e4 maksaisi veron,\njoka oli maksamatta seitsem\u00e4lt\u00e4 vuodelta, taikka toimittaisi jonkun\nritarin taistelemaan h\u00e4nen kanssansa. Ja Cornwallin kansa julisti\njoka paikassa, ett\u00e4 se ritari, joka tahtoo taistella pelastaakseen\nCornwallin veronmaksusta, saisi sellaisen palkinnon, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4nelle\nriitt\u00e4isi rikkautta koko loppui\u00e4kseen.\nMuutamat paroonit neuvoivat Mark kuningasta l\u00e4hett\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n sanan\nArthurin hoviin ja pyyt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n J\u00e4rven herraa Lancelotia, jota siihen\naikaan pidettiin koko maailman merkillisimp\u00e4n\u00e4 ritarina. Mutta muut\nparoonit kielsiv\u00e4t kuningasta siihen suostumasta ja sanoivat, ett\u00e4 se\nolisi turhaa vaivaa, sill\u00e4 Marhaus herra oli Py\u00f6re\u00e4n p\u00f6yd\u00e4n ritari ja\nsenvuoksi toiset ritarit eiv\u00e4t mielell\u00e4ns\u00e4 rupeisi taistelemaan h\u00e4nt\u00e4\nvastaan, paitsi jos ehk\u00e4 joku omasta halustaan tahtoisi taistella\nvalepuvussa ja tuntemattomana. Niin kuningas ja kaikki h\u00e4nen\nparooninsa p\u00e4\u00e4ttiv\u00e4t, ettei kannattanut l\u00e4hett\u00e4\u00e4 hakemaan ket\u00e4\u00e4n\nPy\u00f6re\u00e4n p\u00f6yd\u00e4n ritaria.\nSill\u00e4v\u00e4lin huhu oli saapunut Meliodas kuninkaan hoviin, kuinka\nMarhaus herra odotteli Tintagelin linnan edustalla ja kuinka Mark\nkuningas ei saattanut l\u00f6yt\u00e4\u00e4 mink\u00e4\u00e4nlaista ritaria taistelemaan\npuolestansa.\nKun nuori Tristram kuuli sen, niin h\u00e4n vihastui ja h\u00e4pesi kovin,\nettei ainoakaan Cornwallin ritari uskaltanut taistella Irlannin\nMarhaus herraa vastaan. Ja niin h\u00e4n meni is\u00e4ns\u00e4 Meliodas kuninkaan\nluokse ja kysyi h\u00e4nelt\u00e4, mit\u00e4 Mark kuninkaan tulisi tehd\u00e4, jotta h\u00e4n\nsaisi pit\u00e4\u00e4 veronsa, sill\u00e4 suuri h\u00e4pe\u00e4 olisi, jos Marhaus herra saisi\nl\u00e4hte\u00e4 pois ilman ett\u00e4 kenk\u00e4\u00e4n olisi h\u00e4nen kanssaan taistellut.\n\"Mit\u00e4 siihen asiaan tulee\", Meliodas virkkoi, \"niin tied\u00e4, Tristram\npoikani, ett\u00e4 Marhaus herraa pidet\u00e4\u00e4n yhten\u00e4 maailman parhaimmista\nritareista, ja h\u00e4n on Py\u00f6re\u00e4n p\u00f6yd\u00e4n ritari. En tied\u00e4 t\u00e4ss\u00e4 maassa\nket\u00e4\u00e4n ritaria, joka kykenisi h\u00e4nt\u00e4 vastaan taistelemaan.\"\nSilloin Tristram valitti, ettei h\u00e4nt\u00e4 viel\u00e4 oltu tehty ritariksi, ja\npyysi is\u00e4lt\u00e4\u00e4n lupaa menn\u00e4 Mark kuninkaan luokse, jotta t\u00e4m\u00e4 tekisi\nh\u00e4net ritariksi. Meliodas kuningas suostui mielell\u00e4ns\u00e4, ja niin\nTristram valmistautui matkalle ja ratsasti Cornwalliin. Ja kun h\u00e4n\nsaapui sinne, niin h\u00e4n kuuli sanottavan, ettei kukaan ritari tahtonut\ntaistella Marhaus herran kanssa. Silloin h\u00e4n meni Mark kuninkaan\nluokse ja sanoi: \"Herra, jos te annatte minulle ritarin arvon, niin\nmin\u00e4 tahdon taistella Marhaus herran kanssa.\"\n\"Kuka te olette ja mist\u00e4 tulette?\" sanoi kuningas.\n\"Herra, min\u00e4 tulen Meliodas kuninkaan luota, jolla oli puolisona\nteid\u00e4n sisarenne; ja ett\u00e4 min\u00e4 olen jalosukuinen, sen te hyvin\ntied\u00e4tte.\"\nMark kuningas katsoi Tristramia ja n\u00e4ki, ett\u00e4 t\u00e4m\u00e4 oli viel\u00e4 vallan\nnuori, mutta erinomaisen roteva ja jalomuotoinen.\n\"Jalo herra\", kuningas virkkoi, \"mik\u00e4 on teid\u00e4n nimenne ja miss\u00e4\nolette syntynyt.\"\n\"Herra\", h\u00e4n virkkoi, \"Tristram on minun nimeni ja Lyonessen maassa\nmin\u00e4 olen syntynyt.\"\n\"Hyvin puhuttu\", sanoi kuningas, \"ja jos te tahdotte taistella t\u00e4m\u00e4n\ntaistelun, niin min\u00e4 teen teid\u00e4t ritariksi.\"\n\"Juuri sen vuoksi, enk\u00e4 mink\u00e4\u00e4n muun, min\u00e4 tulinkin luoksenne\",\nTristram virkkoi, ja silloin Mark kuningas teki h\u00e4net ritariksi.\nMarhaus herra kuuli, ett\u00e4 Cornwallin kuningas oli l\u00f6yt\u00e4nyt ritarin,\njoka oli valmis taistelemaan h\u00e4nen kanssaan viimeiseen saakka. \"Hyv\u00e4\non\", h\u00e4n sanoi sanansaattajalle, \"mutta sanokaa Mark kuninkaalle,\nett\u00e4 min\u00e4 en taistele kenenk\u00e4\u00e4n ritarin kanssa, jollei h\u00e4n ole\nkuninkaallista sukua, se on joko kuninkaan tai kuningattaren poika,\ntaikka syntynyt prinssist\u00e4 tai prinsessasta.\"\nMark kuningas l\u00e4hetti hakemaan Tristramia ja kertoi h\u00e4nelle, mit\u00e4\nMarhaus herra oli sanonut.\n\"Ilmoittakaa h\u00e4nelle\", Tristram virkkoi, \"ett\u00e4 min\u00e4 olen sek\u00e4 is\u00e4n\nett\u00e4 \u00e4idin puolelta yht\u00e4 jaloa verta kuin h\u00e4nkin. Sill\u00e4 min\u00e4 olen\nMeliodas kuninkaan poika, syntynyt teid\u00e4n omasta sisarestanne,\nElizabeth ladyst\u00e4, joka kuoli mets\u00e4\u00e4n minun syntyess\u00e4ni.\"\n\"Oi, armas sisarenpoikani\", Meliodas kuningas huusi, \"tervetultuasi\nluokseni.\"\nSilloin Mark kuningas kaikessa kiireess\u00e4 toimitti Tristram herralle\nparhaimman ratsun ja parhaimmat varukset mit\u00e4 kullalla ja hopealla\nvoitiin saada, ja h\u00e4n l\u00e4hetti sanan Marhaus herralle, ett\u00e4\nkorkeampisukuinen mies kuin h\u00e4n oli valmiina taistelemaan h\u00e4nen\nkanssansa.\nOli sovittu, ett\u00e4 taistelu taisteltaisiin er\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 saarella, jonka\nluona Marhaus herran laiva oli ankkurissa. Niin Tristram herra\npantiin alukseen, sek\u00e4 h\u00e4n ett\u00e4 h\u00e4nen ratsunsa, ja mukaan pantiin\nkaikkea mik\u00e4 oli tarpeellista heille molemmille. Ja kun Mark kuningas\nja h\u00e4nen parooninsa n\u00e4kiv\u00e4t, kuinka nuori Tristram herra l\u00e4hti\ntaistelemaan Cornwallin oikeuksien puolesta, niin ei ollut sit\u00e4 arvon\nmiest\u00e4 eik\u00e4 naista, jonka silm\u00e4 ei olisi vettynyt n\u00e4hdess\u00e4\u00e4n niin\nnuoren ritarin antautuvan vaaraan heid\u00e4n t\u00e4htens\u00e4.\nKun Tristram herra saapui saarelle, niin h\u00e4n katsoi sen toiselle\npuolelle ja n\u00e4ki siell\u00e4 kuusi laivaa ankkurissa ja maalla laivojen\nvarjossa n\u00e4kyi jalo ritari, Irlannin Marhaus herra. Silloin Tristram\nherra k\u00e4ski palvelijansa Gouvernailin vied\u00e4 h\u00e4nen ratsunsa maihin ja\nauttaa h\u00e4nt\u00e4 asestautumaan, ja kun h\u00e4n istui aseissaan satulassa,\nkilpi valmiina olallaan, niin h\u00e4n k\u00e4ski Gouvernailin menn\u00e4 takaisin\nalukseen.\n\"Sulje minut enoni Mark kuninkaan suosioon\", h\u00e4n virkkoi, \"ja\npyyd\u00e4 h\u00e4nt\u00e4 hautaamaan minun ruumiini niinkuin parhaaksi n\u00e4kee,\njos kaatuisin taistelussa, ja tiet\u00e4k\u00f6\u00f6n h\u00e4n, ett\u00e4 min\u00e4 en ikin\u00e4\npelkuruudesta antaudu. Jos kaadun enk\u00e4 pakene, silloin he eiv\u00e4t\nmenet\u00e4 mit\u00e4\u00e4n veroa minun t\u00e4hteni, ja jos niin k\u00e4visi, ett\u00e4 pakenisin\ntai antautuisin voittajan armoille, niin \u00e4lk\u00f6\u00f6n enoni minulle ikin\u00e4\nsuoko kristillist\u00e4 hautausta. Ja henkesi uhalla pysy sin\u00e4 loitolla\nt\u00e4lt\u00e4 saarelta, kunnes n\u00e4et ett\u00e4 olen ly\u00f6ty, tai saanut surmani,\ntaikka ett\u00e4 min\u00e4 olen voittanut tuon toisen ritarin.\" Niin he\nerkanivat haikeasti itkien.\nKun Marhaus herra n\u00e4ki Tristramin ja kuinka nuori h\u00e4n oli, niin\nh\u00e4n surkutteli h\u00e4nen uhkarohkeuttaan ja kehoitti h\u00e4nt\u00e4 palaamaan\nlaivaansa. Sill\u00e4 Englannin ja koko maailman parhaimmat ritarit olivat\nMarhaus herran kanssa koetelleet voimiansa ja h\u00e4n oli ne kaikki\nvoittanut.\nMutta Tristram herra vastasi, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n ei voinut luopua aseleikist\u00e4,\njonka vuoksi h\u00e4net oli tehty ritariksi. H\u00e4n oli kuninkaan poika\nja kuningattaren synnytt\u00e4m\u00e4 ja h\u00e4n oli luvannut enolleen Mark\nkuninkaalle taistella viimeiseen saakka ja vapauttaa Cornwallin\ntuosta vanhasta verosta.\n\"Ja tied\u00e4, Marhaus herra, sep\u00e4 juuri minua yllytt\u00e4\u00e4kin taistelemaan\nkanssasi, ett\u00e4 sinua kutsutaan maailman uljaimmaksi ritariksi, ja\nsinun suuri maineesi se juuri kiihoittaa minua koettelemaan voimiani\nsinua vastaan, sill\u00e4 en ole viel\u00e4 kenenk\u00e4\u00e4n kunnon ritarin kera\notellut. Ja koska min\u00e4 t\u00e4n\u00e4\u00e4n sain ritariarvon, niin kiit\u00e4n onneani,\njoka suo minun taistella niin uljasta ritaria vastaan kuin sin\u00e4 olet.\nJa tied\u00e4, Marhaus herra, ett\u00e4 min\u00e4 koetan voittaa kunniaa sinun\nkauttasi, ja vaikka en ole viel\u00e4 voimiani koettanut, niin toivon\nsaavani niit\u00e4 kohta n\u00e4ytt\u00e4\u00e4 sinun ruumiisi p\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 ja vapauttavani\nCornwallin maan ikuisiksi ajoiksi kaikista veronmaksuista Irlannille.\"\nKun Tristram oli sanonut sanottavansa, niin Marhaus herra taas puhui\nt\u00e4h\u00e4n tapaan:\n\"Jalo ritari, koska sin\u00e4 minun kauttani kunniaa haluat voittaa,\nniin ilmoitan sinulle, ett\u00e4 sin\u00e4 et mit\u00e4\u00e4n menet\u00e4, jos sin\u00e4 kest\u00e4t\nkolme iskua minun puoleltani; sill\u00e4 monasti koeteltujen ja n\u00e4htyjen\nurotekojeni t\u00e4hden Arthur kuningas minut koroitti Py\u00f6re\u00e4n p\u00f6yd\u00e4n\nritariksi.\"\nSitten he laskivat peitsens\u00e4 tanaan ja t\u00f6rm\u00e4siv\u00e4t niin rajusti\nyhteen, ett\u00e4 he sy\u00f6ksiv\u00e4t kumpikin toisensa maahan, ratsuineen\np\u00e4ivineen. Marhaus herra iski ison haavan Tristramin kylkeen\npeitsens\u00e4 k\u00e4rjell\u00e4, ja irtautuen ratsuistaan he paljastivat miekkansa\nja ty\u00f6nsiv\u00e4t kilvet eteens\u00e4 ja sivaltelivat toisiaan kuin rajut ja\nrohkeat miehet ainakin. Mutta kun he olivat taistelleet ison aikaa,\nniin Tristram herra oli vereksempi ja v\u00e4kev\u00e4mpi, ja mahtavalla\niskulla h\u00e4n l\u00f6i miekkansa Marhaus herran p\u00e4\u00e4h\u00e4n, niin ett\u00e4 se\ntunki l\u00e4pi h\u00e4nen kyp\u00e4rins\u00e4 ja ter\u00e4sp\u00e4\u00e4hineens\u00e4 ja halkaisi h\u00e4nen\naivokoppansa, ja miekka j\u00e4i kiinni kyp\u00e4riin, niin ett\u00e4 kolmasti\nTristram herran t\u00e4ytyi sit\u00e4 tempaista, ennenkuin h\u00e4n sen sai irti.\nJa Marhaus herra lankesi maahan polvillensa, Tristramin s\u00e4il\u00e4n k\u00e4rki\naivokopassaan. Sitten h\u00e4n \u00e4kki\u00e4 hoipersi h\u00e4nen jalkojensa juureen,\nja heitt\u00e4en miekkansa ja kilpens\u00e4 luotaan h\u00e4n juoksi hoippuen\nlaivoilleen ja pakeni. Ja Tristram herralle j\u00e4i Marhaus herran miekka\nja kilpi.\nNiin Marhaus herra seurueineen l\u00e4hti Irlantiin. Ja heti kun h\u00e4n\nsaapui lankonsa Anguish kuninkaan luokse, h\u00e4n tutkitutti haavansa.\nJa h\u00e4nen p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4\u00e4n l\u00f6ytyi kappale Tristram herran miekasta, eiv\u00e4tk\u00e4\nketk\u00e4\u00e4n haavurit eiv\u00e4tk\u00e4 l\u00e4\u00e4k\u00e4rit saaneet sit\u00e4 sielt\u00e4 pois, niin ett\u00e4\nMarhaus herra kuoli. Mutta h\u00e4nen kuolemansa j\u00e4lkeen h\u00e4nen sisarensa,\nIrlannin kuningatar, s\u00e4ilytti aina luonaan sit\u00e4 miekan kappaletta,\nsill\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli p\u00e4\u00e4tt\u00e4nyt kostaa, milloin ikin\u00e4 vain voisi.\nKaunis Iseult.\nTristram herra oli my\u00f6s vaikeasti haavoittunut, ja taistelun j\u00e4lkeen\nh\u00e4n vaipui pienelle kummulle ja saattoi tuskin hievahtaakaan. Silloin\nGouvernail saapui laivoineen, ja Mark kuningas ja h\u00e4nen parooninsa\nsaapuivat juhlakulussa, ja kun he palasivat Cornwalliin, niin\nkuningas otti Tristramin syliins\u00e4, ja h\u00e4n ja Dinas herra kantoivat\nTristramin Tintagelin linnaan. Siell\u00e4 h\u00e4nt\u00e4 hoivattiin miten\nparhaiten taidettiin ja pantiin vuoteeseen. Ja kun Mark kuningas n\u00e4ki\nh\u00e4nen haavansa, niin h\u00e4n itki katkerasti, ja niin tekiv\u00e4t kaikki\nh\u00e4nen parooninsakin.\n\"Jumala minua auttakoon\", kuningas virkkoi, \"ennen luopuisin kaikista\nmaistani, kuin soisin sisarenpoikani kuolevan.\"\nNiin Tristram herra makasi kuukauden ja enemm\u00e4nkin, ja yh\u00e4 n\u00e4ytti\nsilt\u00e4 kuin h\u00e4n kuolisi siit\u00e4 iskusta, jonka Marhaus herra h\u00e4nelle\npeitsell\u00e4\u00e4n antoi. Sill\u00e4 peitsen p\u00e4\u00e4 oli myrkytetty.\nMark kuningas ja kaikki h\u00e4nen parooninsa olivat ylen murheellisia,\nsill\u00e4 he luulivat ett\u00e4 Tristram herra ei ikin\u00e4 paranisi haavoistaan.\nKuningas l\u00e4hetti hakemaan kaikenlaisia tohtoreita ja haavureita, sek\u00e4\nmiehi\u00e4 ett\u00e4 naisia, mutta ei yksik\u00e4\u00e4n niist\u00e4 saattanut luvata ett\u00e4\nTristram j\u00e4isi eloon.\nSilloin saapui linnaan muuan lady, joka oli sangen viisas ja\nymm\u00e4rt\u00e4v\u00e4inen nainen, ja h\u00e4n sanoi suoraan Mark kuninkaalle ja\nTristramille ja kaikille parooneille, ett\u00e4 Tristram ei ikin\u00e4 parane,\nell'ei h\u00e4n mene siihen maahan, josta myrkky oli kotoisin, ja siin\u00e4\nmaassa h\u00e4n saisi apua, taikka ei sitten ollenkaan.\nKun Mark kuningas sen kuuli, niin h\u00e4n m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4si kauniin, hyvin\nvarustetun laivan Tristram herraa varten, ja sairas ritari pistettiin\nsiihen ja Gouvernail h\u00e4nen mukaansa, ja Tristram herra otti harppunsa\nkerallaan. Niin he laskivat aavalle merelle Irlantia kohti, ja\nonnellinen sattuma vei heid\u00e4t Irlantiin juuri l\u00e4helle sit\u00e4 linnaa,\njossa kuningas ja kuningatar asuivat; ja maihin laskiessaan Tristram\nistui ja soitti vuoteessaan harpullaan iloista laulua, jommoista ei\nIrlannissa koskaan oltu kuultu sit\u00e4 ennen.\nKun kuningas ja kuningatar kuulivat kerrottavan ritarista, joka\noli niin taitava harpunsoittaja, niin kuningas l\u00e4hetti heti h\u00e4nt\u00e4\nhakemaan ja tarkastutti h\u00e4nen haavansa ja kysyi sitten h\u00e4nen nime\u00e4\u00e4n.\n\"Min\u00e4 olen Lyonessen maasta, ja minun nimeni on Tramtrist ja min\u00e4\nhaavoituin taistelussa puolustaessani er\u00e4\u00e4n ladyn oikeuksia\",\nTristram vastasi.\n\"Totisesti\", Anguish kuningas virkkoi, \"teid\u00e4n pit\u00e4\u00e4 saaman t\u00e4ss\u00e4\nmaassa kaikkea sit\u00e4 apua, mit\u00e4 saatavissa on. Mutta min\u00e4 ilmoitan\nteille, ett\u00e4 Cornwallissa min\u00e4 k\u00e4rsin suurimman tappion, kuin koskaan\nkuningasta kohdata saattaa, sill\u00e4 siell\u00e4 min\u00e4 menetin maailman\nparhaimman ritarin, ja Marhaus oli h\u00e4nen nimens\u00e4 -- kerrassaan jalo\nmies ja viel\u00e4 Py\u00f6re\u00e4n p\u00f6yd\u00e4n ritari.\" Ja h\u00e4n kertoi Tristramille,\nkuinka Marhaus oli saanut surmansa.\nTristram herra koetti n\u00e4ytt\u00e4\u00e4 surulliselta, mutta h\u00e4n tiesi paremmin\nkuin kuningas, kuinka asian laita oli. H\u00e4n pelk\u00e4si ilmaista oikeaa\nnime\u00e4ns\u00e4, ja niin h\u00e4n yh\u00e4 edelleen sanoi sen olevan \"Tramtrist\".\nTramtrist p\u00e4\u00e4si niin Anguish kuninkaan suosioon, ett\u00e4 t\u00e4m\u00e4 toimitti\nh\u00e4net tytt\u00e4rens\u00e4 hoitoon ja huomaan, sill\u00e4 neito oli taitava haavain\nparantaja. H\u00e4n huomasi ett\u00e4 haavassa oli myrkky\u00e4, ja ennen pitk\u00e4\u00e4 h\u00e4n\nsai haavan paranemaan. Silloin Tristram oppi suuresti rakastamaan\ntuota kaunista Iseult prinsessaa, sill\u00e4 t\u00e4m\u00e4 oli siihen aikaan\nmaailman ihanin impi ja lady. Ja Tristram opetti h\u00e4nt\u00e4 soittamaan\nharppua, ja Kaunis Iseult alkoi tuntea suurta kiintymyst\u00e4 Tristramiin.\nSiihen aikaan oli siin\u00e4 maassa muuan saraseenilaisritari, josta\nkuningas ja kuningatar paljon pitiv\u00e4t. Palamides herra oli kovin\nihastunut Kauniiseen Iseultiin ja h\u00e4n antoi h\u00e4nelle paljon lahjoja,\nsill\u00e4 h\u00e4n rakasti h\u00e4nt\u00e4 ylen paljon. Kaiken sen Tristram herra n\u00e4ki,\nja h\u00e4n tiesi sangen hyvin, ett\u00e4 Palamides herra oli uljas ritari\nja mahtava mies. Ja Tristram vihasi suuresti Palamidesta, sill\u00e4\nIseult oli kertonut h\u00e4nelle, ett\u00e4 tuo Saraseeni suostuisi tulemaan\nkristityksikin h\u00e4nen t\u00e4htens\u00e4. Niin vallitsi vihaa ja kateutta\nTristramin ja Palamides herran v\u00e4lill\u00e4.\nSitten tapahtui, ett\u00e4 Anguish kuningas julisti pidett\u00e4viksi tjostit\nja turnajaiset er\u00e4\u00e4n ladyn kunniaksi, jota kutsuttiin \"Ketojen\nladyksi\", ja h\u00e4n oli kuninkaan l\u00e4heinen serkku. Sen miehen, joka\nh\u00e4net voitti, piti naida h\u00e4net kolmen p\u00e4iv\u00e4n kuluttua, ja h\u00e4n oli\nsaapa kaikki tuon ladyn maat haltuunsa. T\u00e4m\u00e4 julistus julistettiin\nEnglannissa, Walesissa, Skotlannissa ja my\u00f6s Ranskassa ja Brittanyssa.\nEr\u00e4\u00e4n\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 Kaunis Iseult tuli Tristramin luokse ja kertoi h\u00e4nelle\nnoista turnajaisista.\n\"Jalo lady\", Tristram virkkoi, \"min\u00e4 olen vain heikko ritari ja\nhiljattain olisin kuollut, jollei teid\u00e4n armonne olisi minua\nhyvyydess\u00e4\u00e4n pelastanut. Mutta mit\u00e4 te nyt tahdotte ett\u00e4 min\u00e4 t\u00e4ss\u00e4\nasiassa tekisin? Te tied\u00e4tte kyll\u00e4 ett\u00e4 min\u00e4 en voi tjostata.\"\n\"Oi Tramtrist\", Kaunis Iseult virkkoi, \"kuinka te ette ottaisi osaa\nnoihin turnajaisiin? Min\u00e4 tied\u00e4n ett\u00e4 Palamides herrakin tulee sinne\npanemaan parastansa, ja sent\u00e4hden, Tramtrist, t\u00e4ytyy teid\u00e4nkin sinne\ntulla, taikka muutoin Palamides herra varmasti voittaa palkinnon.\"\n\"Neiti\", Tristram virkkoi, \"jos h\u00e4n sen saa, niin saakoon, sill\u00e4 h\u00e4n\non koeteltu ritari ja min\u00e4 olen vasta nuori ja hiljattain ritariksi\ntehty, ja ensim\u00e4isess\u00e4 taistelussa, jonka taistelin, minulla oli niin\nhuono onni, ett\u00e4 haavoituin n\u00e4in vaikeasti, niinkuin n\u00e4ette. Mutta\njos te rupeatte minun ladykseni, niin min\u00e4 menen noihin turnajaisiin\nsill\u00e4 ehdolla, ett\u00e4 te pid\u00e4tte sen salassa, ettek\u00e4 ilmaise\nkenellek\u00e4\u00e4n luodulle olennolle, ett\u00e4 min\u00e4 olen tjostaava, paitsi\nitsellenne ja niille, joita vaaditte salaisuuttanne s\u00e4ilytt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n.\nV\u00e4h\u00e4p\u00e4t\u00f6isen itseni min\u00e4 uhraan teid\u00e4n t\u00e4htenne, ja sen Palamides\nherra ehk\u00e4 saa tiet\u00e4\u00e4, kun min\u00e4 tulen.\"\n\"Pankaa parastanne\", Kaunis Iseult virkkoi, \"min\u00e4 varustan teille\nratsun ja aseet.\"\n\"Niinkuin te tahdotte, niin tapahtukoon\", Tristram herra virkkoi,\n\"min\u00e4 olen teid\u00e4n k\u00e4skett\u00e4v\u00e4n\u00e4nne.\"\nTurnajaisp\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 saapui Palamides herra mustine kilpineen, ja h\u00e4n\nvoitti monta ritaria, niin ett\u00e4 kaikki kansa ihmetteli h\u00e4nt\u00e4. Kaikki\nritarit pelk\u00e4siv\u00e4t Palamides herraa h\u00e4nen suuren uljuutensa t\u00e4hden\nja monet nimittiv\u00e4t h\u00e4nt\u00e4 \"Mustan kilven ritariksi.\" Niin ett\u00e4 sin\u00e4\np\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 Palamides herra sai suurta kunniaa.\nSilloin Anguish kuningas tuli Tristramin luokse ja kysyi, miksi h\u00e4n\nei tahtonut tjostata.\n\"Herra\", Tristram virkkoi, \"siit\u00e4 on vasta v\u00e4h\u00e4n aikaa kun min\u00e4 sain\nvamman taistelussa, enk\u00e4 min\u00e4 uskalla viel\u00e4 antautua vaaraan\", sill\u00e4\nh\u00e4n ei tahtonut ilmaista kuninkaalle, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n juuri oli menossa\ntaisteluun.\nSeuraavana aamuna Palamides herra taas tuli turnajaiskent\u00e4lle\nniinkuin edellisen\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4kin. Ja h\u00e4n paiskasi maahan \"Sadan ritarin\nkuninkaan\" ja Skotlannin kuninkaan.\nKaunis Iseult oli hankkinut Tristramille valkoisen ratsun ja\nvalkoiset varukset, ja kun Tristram oli valmis, niin h\u00e4n p\u00e4\u00e4sti h\u00e4net\nulos salaisesta takaportista, ja tehden leve\u00e4n kaarroksen Tristram\najaa karautti taistelutantereelle.\nHeti Palamides herra huomasi h\u00e4net, ja samassa h\u00e4n suuntasi peitsens\u00e4\nTristramia kohden ja Tristram samoin h\u00e4nt\u00e4 kohden. Ja silloin\nTristram herra sy\u00f6ksi Palamides herran tantereeseen.\nSilloin nousi aika h\u00e4lin\u00e4. Toiset sanoivat, ett\u00e4 Palamides herra oli\nkaatunut, toiset ett\u00e4 \"Mustan kilven ritari\" oli kaatunut. Ja voitte\nkuvitella mieless\u00e4nne, ett\u00e4 Kaunis Iseult oli ylen iloinen.\nSen per\u00e4st\u00e4 ei en\u00e4\u00e4 kukaan tahtonut taistella Tristramin kanssa, vaan\nkaikki v\u00e4istyiv\u00e4t h\u00e4nen tielt\u00e4\u00e4n.\nPalamides herraa h\u00e4vetti haikeasti, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli kaatunut, ja niin\nhuomaamatta kuin suinkin h\u00e4n koetti poistua tantereelta. Mutta\nTristram herra huomasi t\u00e4m\u00e4n kaiken, ja ajoi nopeasti Palamides\nherran per\u00e4\u00e4n ja saavutti h\u00e4net ja k\u00e4ski h\u00e4nen k\u00e4\u00e4nty\u00e4 takaisin,\nsill\u00e4 h\u00e4n tahtoi viel\u00e4 paremmin koetella voimiaan h\u00e4nen kanssaan,\nennenkuin h\u00e4n saisi l\u00e4hte\u00e4. Silloin Palamides k\u00e4\u00e4ntyi takaisin,\nja molemmat iskiv\u00e4t toisiaan miekoillaan. Mutta ensi ly\u00f6nnill\u00e4 jo\nTristram kaatoi Palamides herran ja antoi h\u00e4nelle sellaisen iskun\np\u00e4\u00e4h\u00e4n, ett\u00e4 Palamides tupertui maahan. Silloin Tristram k\u00e4ski h\u00e4nen\nantautua ja tehd\u00e4 mit\u00e4 h\u00e4n k\u00e4ski, taikka muuten h\u00e4n saisi surmansa.\nKun Palamides n\u00e4ki h\u00e4nen elkeens\u00e4, niin h\u00e4n pelk\u00e4si niin kovin h\u00e4nen\niskujaan, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n suostui kaikkeen, mit\u00e4 Tristram vaati. Tristram\npakoitti h\u00e4net lupaamaan, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n kokonaan lakkaisi Kaunista\nIseultia tavoittelemasta ja ettei h\u00e4n vuoteen ja p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4n kantaisi\naseita eik\u00e4 sotakoristuksia.\n\"Lupaa minulle t\u00e4m\u00e4, taikka sin\u00e4 olet kuoleva\", Tristram virkkoi.\n\"Voi\", sanoi Palamides, \"min\u00e4 olen i\u00e4ksi h\u00e4v\u00e4isty!\" Mutta h\u00e4n vannoi\ntekev\u00e4ns\u00e4 niinkuin Tristram k\u00e4ski, ja kiukuissaan h\u00e4n hakkasi\nvaruksensa palasiksi ja heitti ne luotaan.\nSitten Tristram ratsasti salaa takaportille, jossa Kaunis Iseult oli\nodottamassa, ja siell\u00e4 h\u00e4net otettiin hyvin vastaan, ja Kaunis Iseult\nkiitti Jumalaa h\u00e4nen menestyksest\u00e4ns\u00e4.\nPian kuningas ja kuningatarkin saivat tiet\u00e4\u00e4, ett\u00e4 Tramtrist se\nPalamides herran oli tantereeseen paiskannut, ja silloin h\u00e4nt\u00e4\npidettiin viel\u00e4 suuremmassa arvossa kuin ennen.\nLohjennut miekka.\nSill\u00e4 tapaa Tristram herra viipyi Irlannissa ison aikaa, ja hyvin\nh\u00e4nt\u00e4 kuningas ja kuningatar ja Kaunis Iseult pitiv\u00e4t rakkaana. Mutta\ner\u00e4\u00e4n\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4, h\u00e4nen poissa ollessaan tapahtui, ett\u00e4 kuningatar ja\nIseult meniv\u00e4t h\u00e4nen huoneeseensa, ja siell\u00e4 kuningatar n\u00e4ki h\u00e4nen\nmiekkansa, joka oli heitettyn\u00e4 vuoteelle. Kuningatar veti miekan\ntupesta ja katseli sit\u00e4, ja sek\u00e4 h\u00e4nen ett\u00e4 Iseultin mielest\u00e4 se oli\nylen kaunis. Mutta puolentoista jalan p\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4 k\u00e4rjest\u00e4 oli iso pala\nlohjennut ter\u00e4st\u00e4.\nKun kuningatar huomasi tuon kolon miekassa, niin h\u00e4n muisti sit\u00e4\nmiekan kappaletta, joka oli l\u00f6ytynyt h\u00e4nen veljens\u00e4 Marhaus herran\naivoista.\n\"Voi\", h\u00e4n huusi tytt\u00e4relleen, \"h\u00e4n se on, se petturi ritari, joka\nsurmasi minun veljeni, sinun enosi.\"\nIseult oli aivan joutua suunniltaan, kun h\u00e4n sen kuuli, sill\u00e4 h\u00e4n\nrakasti Tristram herraa ylen paljon ja hyvin h\u00e4n tunsi \u00e4itins\u00e4,\nkuningattaren, julmuuden.\nKuningatar meni \u00e4kki\u00e4 omaan kamariinsa ja otti arkustaan sen miekan\nkappaleen, joka oli l\u00f6ytynyt Marhaus herran p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4, ja juoksi tuo\nrautakappale k\u00e4dess\u00e4\u00e4n vuoteella olevan miekan luo. Ja kun h\u00e4n pisti\nsen puuttuvan palasen miekan ter\u00e4\u00e4n, niin oli aivan kuin olisi se\nsiit\u00e4 juuri lohjennut.\nKuningatar vihastui niin kovin t\u00e4st\u00e4 keksinn\u00f6st\u00e4\u00e4n, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n sieppasi\njulmistuneena miekan k\u00e4teens\u00e4 ja karkasi kaikista voimistaan Tristram\nherraa kohden, joka istui aseetonna. Ja h\u00e4n olisi siin\u00e4 paikassa\nty\u00f6nt\u00e4nyt miekan h\u00e4nen l\u00e4vitsens\u00e4, joll'ei Tristramin asemies, Hebes\nherra, olisi siepannut h\u00e4nt\u00e4 syliins\u00e4 ja temmannut miekkaa h\u00e4nen\nk\u00e4dest\u00e4ns\u00e4. Kun h\u00e4net n\u00e4in estettiin ilkiteostaan, niin h\u00e4n juoksi\npuolisonsa Anguish kuninkaan luo.\n\"Voi herrani\", h\u00e4n huusi, langeten polvilleen h\u00e4nen eteens\u00e4, \"t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4\nte pid\u00e4tte talossanne tuota petturiritaria, joka surmasi minun\nveljeni ja teid\u00e4n palvelijanne, jalon Marhaus herran.\"\n\"Kuka se on? Ja miss\u00e4 h\u00e4n on?\" kuningas virkkoi.\n\"Herra\", kuningatar sanoi, \"se on Tramtrist, sama ritari, jonka\ntytt\u00e4reni paransi.\"\n\"Voi\", kuningas virkkoi, \"olen siit\u00e4 suuresti murheissani, sill\u00e4 h\u00e4n\non jaloimpia ritareita, mit\u00e4 koskaan olen n\u00e4hnyt taistelutantereella.\nMutta min\u00e4 k\u00e4sken teit\u00e4, \u00e4lk\u00e4\u00e4 en\u00e4\u00e4 ruvetko mihink\u00e4\u00e4n tekemisiin\nh\u00e4nen kanssaan, vaan antakaa minun selvitt\u00e4\u00e4 t\u00e4m\u00e4 asia.\"\nSitten kuningas meni kamariin Tristram herran luo ja tapasi h\u00e4net\naseissa kiireest\u00e4 kantap\u00e4\u00e4h\u00e4n asti, valmiina nousemaan ratsulleen.\n\"Ei, Tramtrist\", kuningas virkkoi, \"ei sinua hy\u00f6dyt\u00e4 vaatia minua\ntaisteluun. Koska sin\u00e4 olet minun hovissani, niin ei minulla olisi\nmit\u00e4\u00e4n kunniaa sinun surmaamisestasi. Senvuoksi saat sin\u00e4 turvassa\nl\u00e4hte\u00e4 t\u00e4st\u00e4 hovista, sill\u00e4 ehdolla, ett\u00e4 sin\u00e4 ilmoitat minulle,\nkuka oli sinun is\u00e4si ja mik\u00e4 on sinun nimesi ja surmasitko sin\u00e4\nkuningattaren veljen, Marhaus herran.\"\nSilloin Tristram kertoi kuninkaalle koko jutun, ja sen kuultuaan\nkuningas virkkoi:\n\"Totisesti, min\u00e4 en voi muuta sanoa, kuin ett\u00e4 te menettelitte\nritarin tavoin, ja teid\u00e4n etunne vaati teit\u00e4 taistelemaan parhaanne\nmukaan ja enent\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n mainettanne niinkuin ritarin tuleekin. Mutta\nminun kunniani ei salli, ett\u00e4 te j\u00e4\u00e4tte t\u00e4h\u00e4n maahan, sill\u00e4 minun\nparoonini siit\u00e4 suuttuisivat ja puolisoni ja h\u00e4nen sukunsa.\"\n\"Herra\", Tristram virkkoi, \"min\u00e4 kiit\u00e4n teit\u00e4 siit\u00e4 suuresta\nyst\u00e4v\u00e4llisyydest\u00e4, jota olen t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 saanut osakseni ja siit\u00e4 suuresta\nhyvyydest\u00e4, jota teid\u00e4n tytt\u00e4renne, minun ladyni, on minulle\nosoittanut. Ja saattaa tapahtua, ett\u00e4 te voitatte enemm\u00e4n siit\u00e4, ett\u00e4\nolette antanut minun el\u00e4\u00e4, kuin minun kuolemastani, sill\u00e4 ehk\u00e4p\u00e4\nmin\u00e4 jossain Englannin kolkassa viel\u00e4 saatan olla teille hy\u00f6dyksi,\nniin ett\u00e4 te saatte iloita siit\u00e4, ett\u00e4 piditte minua kunniassa.\nLis\u00e4ksi lupaan min\u00e4, niin totta kuin olen rehellinen ritari, ett\u00e4\njoka paikassa olen pysyv\u00e4 armollisen ladyni, teid\u00e4n tytt\u00e4renne,\nuskollisena palvelijana ja ritarina, sek\u00e4 oikeassa ett\u00e4 v\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4ss\u00e4,\nenk\u00e4 koskaan ole j\u00e4tt\u00e4v\u00e4 tekem\u00e4tt\u00e4, mit\u00e4 ritari vain tehd\u00e4 voi. Viel\u00e4\npyyd\u00e4n min\u00e4 teilt\u00e4 sit\u00e4 suurta suosiota, ett\u00e4 sallisitte minun ottaa\nj\u00e4\u00e4hyv\u00e4iset tytt\u00e4relt\u00e4nne ja kaikilta parooneilta ja ritareilta.\"\n\"Mielell\u00e4ni\", Anguish kuningas virkkoi. Silloin Tristram meni Kauniin\nIseultin luo ja otti h\u00e4nelt\u00e4 j\u00e4\u00e4hyv\u00e4iset.\n\"Voi jalo ritari\", Iseult virkkoi, \"suuren surun valtaan minut\nj\u00e4t\u00e4tte, sill\u00e4 en ole ket\u00e4\u00e4n toista miest\u00e4 tavannut, josta niin\nsuuresti olisin pit\u00e4nyt.\" Ja niin sanoessaan h\u00e4n itki katkerasti.\n\"Neito\", Tristram herra virkkoi, \"nyt ilmoitan teille, ett\u00e4 nimeni\non Lyonessen Tristram, Meliodas kuninkaan ja h\u00e4nen kuningattarensa\npoika. Ja min\u00e4 lupaan teille, kautta kunniani, ett\u00e4 olen teid\u00e4n\nritarinne kaiken el\u00e4m\u00e4ni ajan.\"\n\"Suuri kiitos\", sanoi Kaunis Iseult. \"Ja min\u00e4 lupaan teille, ett\u00e4\nensitulevina seitsem\u00e4n\u00e4 vuotena en mene naimisiin, muuten kuin teid\u00e4n\nluvallanne. Ja jolle te tahdotte, h\u00e4nelle menen avioksi, jos h\u00e4n\nhuolii minusta.\"\nSitten Tristram antoi Iseultille sormuksen, ja Iseult antoi\nTristramille toisen, ja niin Tristram l\u00e4hti h\u00e4nen luotaan ja j\u00e4tti\nh\u00e4net suureen suruun ja murheeseen.\nSenj\u00e4lkeen h\u00e4n meni suoraan hoviin, jossa kaikki paroonit olivat,\nja h\u00e4n otti heilt\u00e4 j\u00e4\u00e4hyv\u00e4iset kaikilta, sek\u00e4 suurimmilta ett\u00e4\npienimmilt\u00e4, ja puhui avomielisesti heille kaikille:\n\"Jalot herrat, nyt on niin laita ett\u00e4 minun t\u00e4ytyy l\u00e4hte\u00e4. Jos\nt\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 on joku teid\u00e4n joukossanne, jota olen loukannut tai joka\nkantaa kaunaa minua vastaan, niin tulkoon h\u00e4n t\u00e4h\u00e4n minun eteeni ja\ntehk\u00f6\u00f6n valituksensa, ennenkuin min\u00e4 l\u00e4hden, ja min\u00e4 koetan sovittaa\nrikkomukseni, mik\u00e4li se on minun vallassani. Ja jos joku tahtoo\ntehd\u00e4 minulle v\u00e4\u00e4ryytt\u00e4 taikka puhua minusta pahaa selk\u00e4ni takana,\nniin tehk\u00f6\u00f6n h\u00e4n sen nyt heti, taikka ei koskaan, ja t\u00e4ss\u00e4 min\u00e4 olen\nvaatimassa hyvityst\u00e4, mies miest\u00e4 vastaan.\"\nJa he seisoivat kaikki \u00e4\u00e4neti; eik\u00e4 ollut yht\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n, joka olisi\ntahtonut sanoa ainoatakaan sanaa h\u00e4nt\u00e4 vastaan, vaikka ritareista\nolivat monet kuningattaren heimolaisia ja Marhaus herran sukua.\nKuinka Tristram herra tuli Camelotiin.\nNiin Tristram herra l\u00e4hti Irlannista ja purjehti pitkin merta ja\nsuotuisa tuuli toi h\u00e4net Tintageliin Cornwalliin. Sanoma saapui Mark\nkuninkaalle, ett\u00e4 Tristram oli palannut ja ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli parantunut\nhaavoistansa, ja siit\u00e4 Mark kuningas iloitsi suuresti ja kaikki h\u00e4nen\nparooninsa. Tristram jatkoi samaa menoa matkaansa is\u00e4ns\u00e4 Meliodas\nkuninkaan luo, ja kuningas ja kuningatar, h\u00e4nen \u00e4itipuolensa, ottivat\nh\u00e4net mit\u00e4 syd\u00e4mellisimmin vastaan ja lahjoittivat h\u00e4nelle paljon\nmaitaan ja aarteitaan.\nViivytty\u00e4\u00e4n jonkun aikaa kotona, Tristram taas j\u00e4tti is\u00e4ns\u00e4 hyv\u00e4sti\nja palasi Cornwalliin Mark kuninkaan hoviin, ja siell\u00e4 h\u00e4n ison aikaa\neli ilossa ja riemussa, kunnes viimein suuri mustasukkaisuus ja viha\nrikkoi h\u00e4nen ja Mark kuninkaan v\u00e4lit, sill\u00e4 he rakastivat molemmat\nsamaa lady\u00e4.\nEr\u00e4\u00e4n\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4, kun Tristram oli matkalla tuota lady\u00e4 tervehtim\u00e4\u00e4n,\nyht'\u00e4kki\u00e4 kolme ritaria karkasi h\u00e4nen kimppuunsa, ja vaikka h\u00e4n\nvoitti heid\u00e4t kaikki ja haavoitti heid\u00e4t vaikeasti, niin h\u00e4n sent\u00e4\u00e4n\nitsekin sai pahoja vammoja kahakassa.\nMark kuningas oli yksi noista p\u00e4\u00e4llekarkaajista, mutta h\u00e4n ei\ntahtonut, ett\u00e4 se olisi tullut tunnetuksi, ja Tristram herra taas\nei ensink\u00e4\u00e4n tiennyt kuninkaan kanssa tapelleensa. Kuninkaan\nhoviherrat tulivat Tristramia lohduttamaan, kun h\u00e4n makasi sairaana\nvuoteessansa, sill\u00e4 tuo viekas kuningas oli olevinaan suruissansa\nsisarenpoikansa t\u00e4hden. Niin kului monta p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4 ja viikkoa, ja kaikki\nn\u00e4ytti olevan unohdettu ja anteeksi annettu.\nMutta koko elinaikanaan ei Mark kuningas en\u00e4\u00e4 sen per\u00e4st\u00e4 rakastanut\nTristramia. Vaikka sanat olivat kauniit, niin rakkautta ei ollut.\nKuningas mietti yh\u00e4 mieless\u00e4\u00e4n, kuinka h\u00e4n saisi sisarenpoikansa pois\np\u00e4ivilt\u00e4. Silloin h\u00e4nen mieleens\u00e4 juolahti, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4nen piti l\u00e4hett\u00e4\u00e4\nTristram Irlantiin kosimaan Kaunista Iseultia. Sill\u00e4 Tristram herra\noli niin suuresti ylist\u00e4nyt h\u00e4nen kauneuttaan ja hyvyytt\u00e4\u00e4n, ett\u00e4\nMark kuningas sanoi tahtovansa naida neidon ja k\u00e4ski sent\u00e4hden\nTristramin menn\u00e4 Irlantiin h\u00e4nen l\u00e4hettil\u00e4\u00e4n\u00e4\u00e4n. Ja kaikkea t\u00e4t\u00e4\nkuningas suunnitteli siin\u00e4 tarkoituksessa ett\u00e4 Tristram saisi\nsurmansa, sill\u00e4 h\u00e4n tunsi Anguish kuninkaan vihamielisyyden.\nMutta kun h\u00e4nen enonsa sit\u00e4 halusi, niin Tristram herra ei tahtonut\nkielt\u00e4yty\u00e4 asiaa toimittamasta, ei niiden vaarojenkaan uhalla, jotka\nsaattoivat h\u00e4nt\u00e4 kohdata, vaan h\u00e4n valmistautui l\u00e4htem\u00e4\u00e4n matkalle\nniin komeassa asussa kuin ikin\u00e4 ajatella saattoi.\nH\u00e4n otti mukaansa jaloimmat ritarit mit\u00e4 hovista saattoi l\u00f6yt\u00e4\u00e4 ja\nhe olivat puetut mit\u00e4 loistavimpiin ja kallisarvoisimpiin pukuihin,\nkuten sen ajan tapa oli.\nNiin Tristram herra l\u00e4hti ja laski aavalle merelle kaikkine\njoukkoineen. Mutta kohta kun he olivat tulleet ulapalle, joutuivat\nhe ankaran myrskyn k\u00e4siin, joka ajoi heid\u00e4t takaisin Englannin\nrannikolle, ja niin he joutuivat l\u00e4helle Camelotia, ja hyvin\niloissaan he olivat ett\u00e4 hengiss\u00e4 p\u00e4\u00e4siv\u00e4t rannalle. Kun he olivat\nnousseet maihin, niin Tristram herra pystytti telttansa Camelotin\nalueelle ja ripusti kilpens\u00e4 teltan sivuun.\nJuuri siihen aikaan kaksi ritaria, jotka olivat veljekset, Ganisin\nherra Blamor ja Bleoberis herra, J\u00e4rven herran Lancelotin serkut,\nolivat molemmat k\u00e4skem\u00e4ss\u00e4 Irlannin kuningasta Anguishia Arthurin\nhoviin Arthur kuninkaan suosion menett\u00e4misen uhalla. Ja jos Irlannin\nkuningas ei m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 saapuisi, niin h\u00e4n menett\u00e4isi maansa.\nSilloin tapahtui, ett\u00e4 tuona m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4ttyn\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 ei Arthur\nkuningas eik\u00e4 Lancelot herra voineet olla saapuvilla asiaa\nratkaisemassa, sill\u00e4 Arthur kuningas oli Lancelot herran kera\nIlojentarhan linnassa. Senvuoksi Arthur kuningas m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4si Carados\nkuninkaan ja Skotlantilaisten kuninkaan menem\u00e4\u00e4n Camelotiin siksi\nratkaisup\u00e4iv\u00e4ksi, ja kun he olivat siell\u00e4, niin Irlannin kuningas\nAnguish tuli tiedustelemaan mist\u00e4 h\u00e4nt\u00e4 syytettiin.\nSilloin Ganisin Blamor syytti Irlannin kuningasta petturuudesta, ett\u00e4\nh\u00e4n oli kavalasti surmannut englantilaisen ritarin serkun hovissaan\nIrlannissa.\nAnguish kuningas oli suuresti suruissaan ja h\u00e4mm\u00e4stynyt t\u00e4st\u00e4\nsyyt\u00f6ksest\u00e4. H\u00e4n oli tullut Arthur kuninkaan k\u00e4skem\u00e4n\u00e4 eik\u00e4 tiet\u00e4nyt\nennen Camelotiin saapumistaan edes mink\u00e4 vuoksi h\u00e4net sinne oli\nhaettu. Kun h\u00e4n kuuli mit\u00e4 Blamor herralla oli sanottavana, niin\nh\u00e4n ymm\u00e4rsi t\u00e4ysin, ettei ollut muuta neuvoa kuin vastata h\u00e4nelle\nritarin tavoin. Sill\u00e4 siihen aikaan oli tapana, ett\u00e4 jos jotakuta\noli syytetty petoksesta tai murhasta, niin h\u00e4nen tuli taistella mies\nmiest\u00e4 vastaan, taikka sitten hankkia joku toinen ritari taistelemaan\nedest\u00e4ns\u00e4. Kaikellaisia murhia nimitettiin siihen aikaan \"petokseksi\".\nAnguish kuningas oli aivan allap\u00e4in, kun h\u00e4n sai tiet\u00e4\u00e4 tuon\nsyyt\u00f6ksen, sill\u00e4 h\u00e4n tiesi ett\u00e4 Blamor herra oli uljas ritari ja\npolveutui uljaista ritareista. Tuomarit soivat h\u00e4nelle kolme p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4\naikaa antaakseen vastauksensa. Niin Anguish kuningas l\u00e4hti asuntoonsa.\nSill\u00e4v\u00e4lin Tristram herran ollessa teltassaan Camelotin luona, h\u00e4nen\nasemiehens\u00e4 Gouvernail tuli ja kertoi h\u00e4nelle kuinka Anguish kuningas\noli saapunut sinne Irlannista ja kuinka h\u00e4n oli joutunut suureen\nh\u00e4t\u00e4\u00e4n ja kuinka h\u00e4nt\u00e4 oli syytetty ja vedetty edesvastaukseen\nmurhasta.\n\"Totisesti\", Tristram herra virkkoi, \"nuopa ovat parhaita uutisia\nmit\u00e4 min\u00e4 seitsem\u00e4\u00e4n viime vuoteen olen saanut, sill\u00e4 nytp\u00e4 Irlannin\nkuningas tarvitsee minun apuani, sill\u00e4 uskallanpa sanoa, ettei t\u00e4ss\u00e4\nmaassa eik\u00e4 Arthur kuninkaan hovissa ole ainoatakaan ritaria, joka\nuskaltaisi antautua taisteluun Blamor herran kanssa. Voittaakseni\nIrlannin kuninkaan suosion tahdon ruveta taisteluun, ja senvuoksi\ntulee sinun, Gouvernail, vied\u00e4 minut kuninkaan luo.\"\nGouvernail meni siis Anguish kuninkaan luo ja tervehti h\u00e4nt\u00e4\nkauniisti. Kuningas toivotti h\u00e4net tervetulleeksi ja kysyi mit\u00e4 h\u00e4n\nhalusi.\n\"Herra\", Gouvernail virkkoi, \"t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 on l\u00e4hitienoilla muuan ritari,\njoka haluaisi puhua teid\u00e4n kanssanne. H\u00e4n k\u00e4ski minun teille\nilmoittamaan, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n tahtoo teit\u00e4 auttaa.\"\n\"Kuka ritari se on?\" kuningas kysyi.\n\"Herra\", Gouvernail virkkoi, \"Lyonessen herra Tristram se on;\npalkitakseen teille sit\u00e4 hyvyytt\u00e4, jota osoititte h\u00e4nelle\nvaltakunnassanne, h\u00e4n nyt tahtoo teit\u00e4 auttaa t\u00e4ss\u00e4 maassa.\"\n\"Tule pian kanssani, hyv\u00e4 mies\", kuningas virkkoi, \"ja vie minut\nTristram herran luo.\"\nNiin Anguish kuningas otti pienen ratsastushevosen ja vain muutamia\nseuralaisia ja tuli Tristram herran teltalle.\nKun Tristram herra n\u00e4ki kuninkaan, niin h\u00e4n juoksi h\u00e4nt\u00e4 vastaan\nja tahtoi kannattaa h\u00e4nen jalustintaan. Mutta kuningas hypp\u00e4si\nketter\u00e4sti ratsunsa sel\u00e4st\u00e4 ja he syleiliv\u00e4t toisiaan molemmat.\n\"Minun armollinen herrani\", Tristram virkkoi, \"suuri kiitos kaikesta\nhyvyydest\u00e4nne, jota minulle osoititte kun olin maassanne. Lupasin\nteille silloin, ett\u00e4 teit\u00e4 auttaisin, koska ikin\u00e4 vain voisin.\"\n\"Jalo ritari\", kuningas virkkoi, \"nyt teit\u00e4 kovin tarvitsen. En\nmilloinkaan ole niin kovin kenenk\u00e4\u00e4n ritarin apua tarvinnut.\"\n\"Kuinka niin, hyv\u00e4 herrani?\" Tristram kysyi.\n\"Kerron sen teille\", kuningas virkkoi. \"Minut on vaadittu tulemaan\nt\u00e4nne maastani ja minua syytet\u00e4\u00e4n er\u00e4\u00e4n ritarin kuolemasta, joka\noli sukua tuolle uljaalle Lancelot herralle, ja senvuoksi Ganisin\nherra Blamor, Bleoberis herran veli on vaatinut minua taistelemaan\nkanssansa, taikka sitten hankkimaan sijastani jonkun toisen ritarin.\nJa min\u00e4 tied\u00e4n hyvin ett\u00e4 ne, jotka polveutuvat Ban kuninkaan\nsuvusta, niinkuin Lancelot herra ja nuo toiset, ovat ylen jaloja\nritareita ja heit\u00e4 on niin vaikea voittaa taistelussa, etten tied\u00e4\nket\u00e4\u00e4n heid\u00e4n kaltaistaan.\"\n\"Herra\", Tristram virkkoi, \"koska te osoititte minulle niin suurta\nkunniaa Irlannissa, ja teid\u00e4n tytt\u00e4renne, minun ladyni, Kauniin\nIseultin t\u00e4hden min\u00e4 tahdon teid\u00e4n puolestanne taistella, sill\u00e4\nehdolla ett\u00e4 lupaatte minulle kaksi asiaa, ett\u00e4 vannotte olevanne\noikeassa ja ett\u00e4 ette ollut antanut suostumustanne tuon ritarin\nsurmaan. Sitten kun olen taistellut t\u00e4m\u00e4n taistelun ja jos Jumala\nantaa minun onnistua, te saatte antaa minulle palkinnon, mit\u00e4 hyv\u00e4ns\u00e4\nkohtuullista teilt\u00e4 pyyd\u00e4n.\"\n\"Totisesti\", kuningas virkkoi, \"te olette saapa mit\u00e4 ikin\u00e4 pyyd\u00e4tte.\"\nEnnemmin kuolema kuin h\u00e4pe\u00e4.\n\"Antakaa nyt vastauksenne ett\u00e4 teid\u00e4n puolustajanne on valmis\",\nTristram herra virkkoi Anguish kuninkaalle, \"sill\u00e4 min\u00e4 ennemmin\nkuolen t\u00e4ss\u00e4 ottelussa kuin antaudun armoille.\"\n\"Min\u00e4 en ensink\u00e4\u00e4n ep\u00e4ile teit\u00e4\", kuningas virkkoi, \"en, vaikkapa\nteid\u00e4n pit\u00e4isi taistella itse J\u00e4rven Lancelotia vastaan.\"\n\"Herra\", Tristram virkkoi, \"mit\u00e4 Lancelot herraan tulee, niin h\u00e4nt\u00e4\nkutsutaan maailman jaloimmaksi ritariksi, ja tiet\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4nen\nsukuaan olevat ritarit ovat jaloja miehi\u00e4 ja kammovat h\u00e4pe\u00e4\u00e4. Mit\u00e4\ntaas tulee Bleoberis herraan, Blamor herran veljeen, niin h\u00e4nen\nkanssaan olen ollut ottelussa ja siksip\u00e4, kautta kunniani, saatan\nsanoa ettei ole h\u00e4pe\u00e4 kutsua h\u00e4nt\u00e4 oivaksi ritariksi.\"\n\"Kerrotaan, ett\u00e4 Blamor herra on sit\u00e4 vankempi ritari\", Anguish\nkuningas virkkoi.\n\"Herra, mit\u00e4 siihen tulee, niin olkoon vain, min\u00e4 en kielt\u00e4ydy\ntaistelemasta h\u00e4nen kanssaan, vaikka h\u00e4n olisi paras ritari, joka\nnyky\u00e4\u00e4n kantaa peist\u00e4 tai kilpe\u00e4.\"\nAnguish kuningas l\u00e4hti Carados kuninkaan ja niiden muiden kuninkaiden\nluo, jotka silloin olivat tuomareina, ja ilmoitti heille ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n\noli l\u00f6yt\u00e4nyt puolustajan. Silloin l\u00e4hetettiin kuninkaiden k\u00e4skyst\u00e4\nhakemaan Tristram herraa ja Blamor herraa kuulemaan mit\u00e4 heid\u00e4n tuli\ntehd\u00e4.\nKun he saapuivat tuomarien eteen, niin kuninkaat ja ritarit\nkatselivat kovin Tristramia, ja puhelivat kesken\u00e4\u00e4n h\u00e4nest\u00e4, koska\nh\u00e4n oli ly\u00f6nyt Marhaus herran, tuon oivan ritarin, ja voittanut\nturnajaisissa jalon saraseenin, Palamides herran.\nSaatuaan m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4yksens\u00e4 taistelijat l\u00e4htiv\u00e4t valmistautumaan taisteluun.\nSilloin Bleoberis herra virkkoi veljelleen Blamor herralle: \"Rakas\nveli, muista mit\u00e4 sukua olemme ja mik\u00e4 mies on J\u00e4rven Lancelot, emme\net\u00e4isempi\u00e4 emmek\u00e4 l\u00e4hempi\u00e4 kuin veljesten lapsia. Ei koskaan ole\nkenk\u00e4\u00e4n meid\u00e4n suvustamme joutunut h\u00e4pe\u00e4\u00e4n taistelussa -- vaan on\nennemmin k\u00e4rsinyt kuoleman, kuin antautunut h\u00e4pe\u00e4\u00e4n!\"\n\"Veli\", Blamor virkkoi. \"\u00e4l\u00e4 ep\u00e4ile minua, sill\u00e4 min\u00e4 en ole koskaan\ntuottava h\u00e4pe\u00e4\u00e4 suvulleni, vaikkakin tied\u00e4n ett\u00e4 tuota toista ritaria\nmainitaan ylen oivalliseksi ritariksi, ja sanotaan ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n on\nparhaimpia t\u00e4m\u00e4n ajan ritareista. Kuitenkaan en ole ikin\u00e4 tunnustava\nitse\u00e4ni voitetuksi, enk\u00e4 lausuva tuota vihattua sanaa 'antaudun'.\nPaiskatkoon h\u00e4n minut vain tantereeseen suurella ritarillisella\nvoimallaan ja v\u00e4ell\u00e4\u00e4n, mutta ennen h\u00e4n saa minut surmata, kuin min\u00e4\nh\u00e4nen armoillensa antaudun.\"\n\"Jumala sinua auttakoon\", virkkoi Bleoberis, \"sill\u00e4 sin\u00e4 tapaat\nh\u00e4ness\u00e4 mahtavimman ritarin, mink\u00e4 kanssa koskaan olet ollut\ntekemisiss\u00e4; min\u00e4 tunnen h\u00e4net, sill\u00e4 min\u00e4 olen h\u00e4nen kanssaan\nvoimiani koetellut.\"\n\"Jumala minua auttakoon!\" virkkoi Blamor.\nSitten h\u00e4n hypp\u00e4si ratsulleen aitauksen toisessa p\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4 ja Tristram\nherra toisessa, ja niin he kohottivat peitsens\u00e4 ja rynt\u00e4siv\u00e4t\nvastatusten kuin ukkosen jyrin\u00e4, ja suurella voimallaan Tristram\nherra silloin sy\u00f6ksi Blamor herran ja h\u00e4nen ratsunsa tantereeseen.\nBlamor herra irrottautui nopeasti hevosestaan, paljasti miekkansa ja\nty\u00f6nsi kilven eteens\u00e4 ja k\u00e4ski Tristramin astua alas satulasta.\n\"Sill\u00e4 vaikka ratsu ei minua kannattanut, niin luulen sent\u00e4\u00e4n\nmaaper\u00e4n kest\u00e4v\u00e4n\", h\u00e4n huusi.\nTristram herra astui maahan ja siin\u00e4 he sitten ankarasti mitteliv\u00e4t\nmiekkoja, iskien monta rajua iskua, niin ett\u00e4 kuninkaat ja ritarit\nihmetteliv\u00e4t suuresti. Sill\u00e4 he taistelivat kuin riivatut, ei\nkoskaan oltu ritarien n\u00e4hty hurjemmin taistelevan. Blamor herra k\u00e4vi\np\u00e4\u00e4lle niin kiivaasti, ettei h\u00e4n hetkeksik\u00e4\u00e4n hellitt\u00e4nyt, ja kaikki\nihmetteliv\u00e4t ett\u00e4 he jaksoivat pysy\u00e4 pystyss\u00e4. Viimein Tristram herra\nantoi Blamor herralle sellaisen iskun kyp\u00e4riin, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n kaatui\nkyljelleen, ja Tristram herra seisoi ja katseli h\u00e4nt\u00e4.\nKun Blamor herra saattoi puhua, sanoi h\u00e4n n\u00e4in:\n\"Lyonessen herra Tristram, min\u00e4 pyyd\u00e4n sinua niin totta kuin olet\njalo ritari, ja parhain ritari, mink\u00e4 koskaan olen tavannut, ett\u00e4\nsurmaat minut saman tien; en tahtoisi en\u00e4\u00e4 el\u00e4\u00e4, vaikka minusta\nteht\u00e4isiin koko maailman herra sill\u00e4 min\u00e4 tahdon ennemmin kuolla\nkunnialla, kuin el\u00e4\u00e4 h\u00e4pe\u00e4ll\u00e4. Sinun t\u00e4ytyy surmata minut, Tristram\nherra, taikka muutoin et ikin\u00e4 voita taisteluasi, sill\u00e4 min\u00e4 en\nkoskaan sano tuota vihattua sanaa. Senvuoksi, jos uskallat surmata\nminut, niin surmaa minut heti, min\u00e4 pyyd\u00e4n ja rukoilen sinua!\"\nKun Tristram herra kuuli h\u00e4nen puhuvan niin ritarillisesti, niin h\u00e4n\nei tiet\u00e4nyt mit\u00e4 tehd\u00e4 h\u00e4nen suhteensa. H\u00e4n mietti asiaa puolelta ja\ntoiselta -- mist\u00e4 suvusta Blamor herra polveutui ja kuinka h\u00e4n jo\nLancelot herran vuoksi oli kerrassaan haluton h\u00e4nt\u00e4 surmaamaan. Mutta\ntoisaalta h\u00e4n ei saattanut valita, vaan antaa Blamor herran voittaa\ntaikka sitten surmata h\u00e4net.\nSill\u00e4 sellainen oli turnajaisten laki.\nNiin Tristram meni niiden kuninkaiden luo, jotka olivat tuomareina,\nja polvistui heid\u00e4n eteens\u00e4 ja pyysi heit\u00e4 oman kunniansa ja Arthur\nkuninkaan ja Lancelot herran vuoksi ottamaan t\u00e4m\u00e4n asian k\u00e4siins\u00e4.\n\"Sill\u00e4, jalot herrat\", Tristram virkkoi, \"olisi synti ja h\u00e4pe\u00e4, jos\nnoin jalo ritari kuin tuo, joka makaa tuolla tantereella, saisi\nsurmansa, sill\u00e4 niinkuin olette kuulleet, h\u00e4pe\u00e4\u00e4n h\u00e4n ei tahdo\njoutua, ja min\u00e4 rukoilen Jumalaa, ettei h\u00e4n minun kauttani tulisi\nh\u00e4pe\u00e4\u00e4n eik\u00e4 surmaansa saisi. Ja mit\u00e4 tulee siihen kuninkaaseen,\njonka puolesta min\u00e4 taistelen, niin tahdon h\u00e4nelt\u00e4 pyyt\u00e4\u00e4, niin\ntotta kuin olen h\u00e4nen rehellinen puolustajansa ja rehellinen ritari\ntaistelussa, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n armahtaisi tuota oivaa ritaria.\"\n\"Totisesti\", Anguish kuningas virkkoi Tristramille, \"min\u00e4 annan\njohtaa itse\u00e4ni, minne tahdotte, sill\u00e4 min\u00e4 tied\u00e4n ett\u00e4 te olette\nminun rehellinen ritarini. Ja senvuoksi min\u00e4 kaikesta syd\u00e4mest\u00e4ni\ntahdon pyyt\u00e4\u00e4, ett\u00e4 nuo kuninkaat, jotka ovat t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 tuomareina,\nottaisivat asian k\u00e4siins\u00e4.\"\nSilloin kuninkaat kutsuivat Bleoberis herran luoksensa ja kysyiv\u00e4t\nh\u00e4nen mielipidett\u00e4ns\u00e4.\n\"Herrani\", Bleoberis virkkoi, \"vaikka veljeni on ly\u00f6ty, ja\nasevoimalla lannistettu, niin uskallan vakuuttaa, ett\u00e4 vaikka\nTristram herra on voittanut h\u00e4nen ruumiinsa, niin h\u00e4n ei ole\nmasentanut h\u00e4nen rohkeuttansa. Ja, Jumalan kiitos, h\u00e4n ei ole t\u00e4n\u00e4\np\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 joutunut h\u00e4pe\u00e4\u00e4n. Ja ennemmin kuin ett\u00e4 h\u00e4net saatetaan\nh\u00e4pe\u00e4\u00e4n, min\u00e4 pyyd\u00e4n ja rukoilen teit\u00e4, ett\u00e4 annatte Tristram herran\nh\u00e4net suoraa p\u00e4\u00e4t\u00e4 surmata.\"\n\"Niin ei saa tapahtua\", kuninkaat sanoivat, \"sill\u00e4 vastustajien\npuolella sek\u00e4 Irlannin kuningas ett\u00e4 h\u00e4nen puolustajansa s\u00e4\u00e4liv\u00e4t\nBlamor herran ritarikuntoa.\"\n\"Herrani\", Bleoberis sanoi, \"min\u00e4 suostun kaikkeen mit\u00e4 hyv\u00e4ns\u00e4 te\ntahdotte.\"\nSilloin kuninkaat kutsuivat luokseen Irlannin kuninkaan ja huomasivat\nett\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli hyv\u00e4 ja my\u00f6ntyv\u00e4inen. Heid\u00e4n neuvonsa mukaan Tristram\nherra ja Bleoberis herra nostivat Blamor herran maasta, ja nuo\nmolemmat veljekset tekiv\u00e4t sovinnon Anguish kuninkaan kanssa ja\nsuutelivat toisiaan ja rupesivat yst\u00e4viksi ainiaaksi.\nSamoin Blamor herra ja Tristram herra suutelivat toisiaan, ja siin\u00e4\nhe vannoivat sellaiset valat, etteiv\u00e4t he ikin\u00e4 kumpikaan veljeksist\u00e4\ntaistelisi Tristram herraa vastaan, ja Tristram herra vannoi samalla\ntapaa, ettei h\u00e4nk\u00e4\u00e4n ikin\u00e4 taistelisi heit\u00e4 vastaan.\nJa tuon jalon taistelun t\u00e4hden koko Lancelot herran suku alati\nrakasti Tristramia.\nSitten Anguish kuningas ja Tristram herra ottivat j\u00e4\u00e4hyv\u00e4iset ja\npurjehtivat Irlantiin suuressa riemussa ja jaloutensa loistossa.\nKun he saapuivat Irlantiin, niin kuningas teki kautta koko maan\ntietyksi, kuinka ja mill\u00e4 tapaa Tristram herra oli h\u00e4nt\u00e4 auttanut, ja\nkuningatar ja kaikki, jotka siell\u00e4 olivat, osoittivat Tristramille\nniin suurta kunniaa kuin vain voivat.\nMutta Kauniin Iseultin riemua Tristram herran saapuessa ei kieli\nsaata kertoa, sill\u00e4 kaikista maallisista miehist\u00e4 h\u00e4n rakasti\nTristramia enimm\u00e4n.\nTaikajuoma.\nSilloin yhten\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 Anguish kuningas kysyi Tristramilta, miksei\nt\u00e4m\u00e4 pyyt\u00e4nyt lahjaansa, sill\u00e4 mit\u00e4 h\u00e4n kerran oli luvannut\nTristramille, sen h\u00e4n my\u00f6s aivan varmaan saisi.\n\"Herra\", Tristram sanoi, \"nyt on aika anoa, ett\u00e4 annatte minulle\nKauniin Iseultin, tytt\u00e4renne, ei minulle itselleni, vaan enolleni\nMarkille, joka on saapa h\u00e4net puolisokseen, sill\u00e4 niin min\u00e4 olen\nh\u00e4nelle luvannut.\"\n\"Voi\", kuningas virkkoi, \"mieluisempaa kuin kaikkien maitteni\nomistaminen, olisi minulle ett\u00e4 te itse h\u00e4net naisitte.\"\n\"Herra, jos min\u00e4 niin tekisin, niin joutuisin ainiaaksi h\u00e4pe\u00e4\u00e4n\nt\u00e4ss\u00e4 maailmassa ja lupaukseni rikkojaksi. Senvuoksi\", Tristram\nherra sanoi, \"min\u00e4 pyyd\u00e4n teit\u00e4 pit\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n lupauksenne, jonka minulle\nannoitte. Sill\u00e4 t\u00e4m\u00e4 on toivoni -- ett\u00e4 annatte minulle Kauniin\nIseultin vied\u00e4kseni h\u00e4net Cornwalliin enolleni Mark kuninkaalle\navioksi.\"\n\"Silloin\", Anguish kuningas sanoi, \"te saatte h\u00e4net mukaanne\ntehd\u00e4ksenne h\u00e4nen suhteensa mit\u00e4 tahdotte, se on, jos te suvaitsette\nnaida h\u00e4net itse, niin se olisi minulle kaikista mieluisinta; ja jos\nte tahdotte antaa h\u00e4net enollenne Mark kuninkaalle, niin voitte sen\ntehd\u00e4, jos hyv\u00e4ksi n\u00e4ette.\"\nNiin Kaunis Iseult valmistettiin matkalle l\u00e4hte\u00e4kseen Tristram\nherran kera, ja Bragwaine neiti l\u00e4hti h\u00e4nen kanssaan h\u00e4nen\nylikamarirouvakseen ja monta muuta lady\u00e4.\nEnnenkuin he l\u00e4htiv\u00e4t, antoi kuningatar, Iseultin \u00e4iti, Bragwaine\nneidille ja Gouvernailille, Tristram herran seuralaiselle,\ntaikajuoman ja pani heid\u00e4n syd\u00e4mellens\u00e4 ett\u00e4 sin\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 kuin Mark\nkuningas nai, heid\u00e4n tuli antaa se juoma h\u00e4nelle, niin ett\u00e4 Mark\nkuningas joisi Kauniin Iseultin maljan. \"Ja silloin\", kuningatar\nsanoi, \"min\u00e4 takaan ett\u00e4 he molemmat rakastavat toisiansa koko\nel\u00e4m\u00e4ns\u00e4 ajan.\"\nNiin juoma annettiin Bragwaine neidolle ja Gouvernailille, ja heti\nsenj\u00e4lkeen Tristram herra l\u00e4hti Kauniin Iseultin kera merelle.\nSilloin tapahtui, kun he olivat hytiss\u00e4\u00e4n, ett\u00e4 heit\u00e4 alkoi janottaa,\nja he n\u00e4kiv\u00e4t l\u00e4hell\u00e4\u00e4n pienen kultaisen maljan ja v\u00e4rist\u00e4 ja mausta\np\u00e4\u00e4tt\u00e4en siin\u00e4 n\u00e4ytti olevan jaloa viini\u00e4. Tristram herra otti maljan\nk\u00e4teens\u00e4 ja sanoi:\n\"Iseult neito, t\u00e4ss\u00e4 on parasta juotavaa mit\u00e4 milloinkaan olette\njuonut, jota Bragwaine, teid\u00e4n kamarineitonne, ja minun palvelijani\nGouvernail ovat s\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4neet itse\u00e4ns\u00e4 varten.\"\nSilloin he nauroivat ja pitiv\u00e4t hauskaa ja joivat kumpikin toistensa\nmaljat viattomasti ilakoiden. Eiv\u00e4tk\u00e4 he mielest\u00e4\u00e4n olleet koskaan\nel\u00e4m\u00e4ss\u00e4\u00e4n juoneet niin hyv\u00e4\u00e4 ja suloista juomaa.\nMutta kun he olivat juoneet sen taikajuoman, niin he rakastivat\ntoisiaan niin suuresti, ettei heid\u00e4n rakkautensa koskaan senj\u00e4lkeen\nhaihtunut, ei onnessa eik\u00e4 onnettomuudessa.\nJa t\u00e4ll\u00e4 tapaa rakkaus ensiksi syttyi Tristram herran ja Kauniin\nIseultin v\u00e4lille, joka rakkaus ei koskaan haihtunut koko heid\u00e4n\nel\u00e4m\u00e4ns\u00e4 aikana.\nNiin he purjehtivat edelleen, kunnes sattumalta tulivat l\u00e4helle\ner\u00e4st\u00e4 linnaa, ja sinne he pys\u00e4htyiv\u00e4t lep\u00e4\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n, ajatellen ett\u00e4\nsiell\u00e4 saisivat hyv\u00e4n asunnon. Mutta heti kun he olivat tulleet\nsis\u00e4lle linnaan, otettiin heid\u00e4t vangiksi, sill\u00e4 sen linnan tapa oli\nsellainen, ett\u00e4 kuka hyv\u00e4ns\u00e4 ratsasti siit\u00e4 ohi ja kuljetti lady\u00e4\nmukanaan, niin h\u00e4nen t\u00e4ytyi taistella linnan herran kanssa, jonka\nnimi oli Brennor. Ja jos Brennor voitti taistelun, niin h\u00e4n pisti\nkuoliaaksi sen muukalaisen ritarin ja h\u00e4nen ladyns\u00e4, keit\u00e4 hyv\u00e4ns\u00e4\nhe olivatkin. Mutta jos vieras ritari voitti taistelun, niin Brennor\nherran ja h\u00e4nen ladyns\u00e4 tuli molempien kuolla.\nT\u00e4m\u00e4 oli monta talvea ollut tapana, ja senvuoksi linnaa nimitettiin\n\"Itkujen linnaksi.\"\nKun Tristram herra ja Iseult olivat vankilassa, niin muuan ritari ja\nlady tulivat heit\u00e4 lohduttamaan.\n\"Min\u00e4 ihmettelen\", Tristram sanoi, \"mik\u00e4 siihen on syyn\u00e4, ett\u00e4 t\u00e4m\u00e4n\nlinnan lordi pit\u00e4\u00e4 meit\u00e4 vankeudessa. Sellaista ei ole ollut tapana\nmiss\u00e4\u00e4n kunniallisessa paikassa, miss\u00e4 min\u00e4 olen ollut, ett\u00e4 kun\nritari ja lady pyyt\u00e4v\u00e4t suojaa, niin is\u00e4nt\u00e4 ottaa heid\u00e4t vastaan ja\nsitten tappaa ne, jotka ovat h\u00e4nen vierainaan.\"\nRitari kertoi silloin Tristram herralle, ett\u00e4 se oli sen linnan vanha\ntapa, ett\u00e4 kun sinne tuli joku ritari, niin h\u00e4nen t\u00e4ytyi taistella\nlinnan lordin kanssa, ja sen joka oli heikompi, t\u00e4ytyi menett\u00e4\u00e4\np\u00e4\u00e4ns\u00e4. Ja kun se oli tehty, niin jos h\u00e4nen ladyns\u00e4, jonka h\u00e4n oli\ntuonut mukanaan, oli v\u00e4hemm\u00e4n kaunis kuin linnan lordin vaimo, niin\nsilloin h\u00e4nen piti menett\u00e4\u00e4 p\u00e4\u00e4ns\u00e4; ja jos vieraan ritarin lady\nhuomattiin ihanammaksi kuin linnan lady, niin silloin linnan ladyn\nt\u00e4ytyi menett\u00e4\u00e4 p\u00e4\u00e4ns\u00e4.\n\"Vai niin\", Tristram herra virkkoi, \"sep\u00e4 on ruma ja h\u00e4pe\u00e4llinen\ntapa. Mutta yksi etu minulla on\", h\u00e4n lis\u00e4si. \"Minulla on lady,\njoka on kylliksi kaunis, kauniimpaa en koskaan ole n\u00e4hnyt koko\nel\u00e4m\u00e4ni aikana, enk\u00e4 min\u00e4 pelk\u00e4\u00e4, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n kauneuden puutteesta\nmenett\u00e4\u00e4 p\u00e4\u00e4ns\u00e4. Ja ennemmin kuin menett\u00e4isin p\u00e4\u00e4ni min\u00e4 tahdon siit\u00e4\ntaistella avonaisella tantereella. Senvuoksi, herra ritari, min\u00e4\npyyd\u00e4n teit\u00e4 sanomaan herrallenne, ett\u00e4 min\u00e4 ladyineni olen huomenna\nvalmis taisteluun, jos niin on ett\u00e4 min\u00e4 saan ratsuni ja varukseni.\"\n\"Herra\", ritari sanoi, \"min\u00e4 takaan, ett\u00e4 teid\u00e4n toivomuksenne on\ntoteutuva. Lev\u00e4tk\u00e4\u00e4 ja katsokaa, ett\u00e4 olette ajoissa ylh\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4, sill\u00e4\nteilt\u00e4 ei ole puuttuva mit\u00e4\u00e4n, mik\u00e4 tarpeellista on.\"\nVarhain aamulla sama ritari tuli taas Tristram herran luokse ja nouti\nh\u00e4net ja Kauniin Iseultin pois vankeudesta, ja toi h\u00e4nelle h\u00e4nen oman\nratsunsa ja varukset ja k\u00e4ski h\u00e4nen valmistautua taisteluun, sill\u00e4\nkaikki sen lordikunnan kansa oli valmiina katselemaan tuomiota ja\ntaistelua.\nSilloin tuli Brennor herra, Itkujen linnan lordi, taluttaen k\u00e4dest\u00e4\nlady\u00e4ns\u00e4, jonka kasvot oli peitetty, ja h\u00e4n kysyi Tristram herralta,\nmiss\u00e4 h\u00e4nen ladyns\u00e4 oli. Sill\u00e4 sen heist\u00e4, joka oli v\u00e4hemm\u00e4n kaunis,\nt\u00e4ytyi menett\u00e4\u00e4 p\u00e4\u00e4ns\u00e4.\n\"Herra\", Tristram sanoi, \"t\u00e4m\u00e4 on raaka ja hirvitt\u00e4v\u00e4 tapa, ja\nennemmin kuin antaisin ladyni menett\u00e4\u00e4 p\u00e4\u00e4ns\u00e4, menett\u00e4isin mieluummin\nomani.\"\n\"Ei, ei\", sanoi Brennor herra, \"ensiksi on ladyj\u00e4 n\u00e4ytett\u00e4v\u00e4 yhdess\u00e4,\nja toisen tulee saada tuomionsa.\"\n\"Ei, min\u00e4 en sit\u00e4 tahdo\", Tristram herra sanoi, \"sill\u00e4 t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 ei ole\nket\u00e4\u00e4n, jotka voisivat oikeudenmukaisesti tuomita. Mutta en min\u00e4\nep\u00e4ilek\u00e4\u00e4n, ettei minun ladyni ole kauniimpi kuin sinun, ja sen min\u00e4\ntahdon osoittaa ja todeksi n\u00e4ytt\u00e4\u00e4 k\u00e4dell\u00e4ni. Ja jos joku sanoo\nvastaan, olkoon ken hyv\u00e4ns\u00e4, niin min\u00e4 n\u00e4yt\u00e4n sen toteen h\u00e4nen p\u00e4\u00e4ns\u00e4\nkautta.\"\nJa samassa Tristram herra n\u00e4ytti Kauniin Iseultin ja k\u00e4\u00e4nsi h\u00e4net\nkolmasti ymp\u00e4ri pit\u00e4en paljastettua miekkaa k\u00e4dess\u00e4\u00e4n. Ja Brennor\nherra teki samoin ladylleen. Mutta kun Brennor n\u00e4ki Kauniin Iseultin,\nniin h\u00e4n ajatteli, ettei h\u00e4n koskaan ollut n\u00e4hnyt suloisempaa lady\u00e4.\nJa kaikki kansa joka oli siell\u00e4 l\u00e4sn\u00e4, lausui sen tuomion, ett\u00e4\nKaunis Iseult oli kaikkein ihanin.\n\"Totisesti\", Brennor sanoi, \"sinun ladysi on kauniimpi kuin minun,\nja senvuoksi min\u00e4 kovasti kadun. Nyt t\u00e4ytyy minun ladyni kuolla, ja\nsitten ei ole ep\u00e4ilemist\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n ett\u00e4 min\u00e4 ly\u00f6n sinut ja nain sinun\nladysi.\"\n\"Sinun pit\u00e4\u00e4 saaman h\u00e4net niin kalliilla hinnalla, kuin koskaan\nkenk\u00e4\u00e4n ritari on ladyn saanut\", Tristram herra sanoi.\nSitten he ottivat ratsunsa ja sy\u00f6ksyiv\u00e4t yhteen kuin ukkosen jyrin\u00e4,\nja sill\u00e4 tapaa he taistelivat hurjasti iskien toinen toistaan\nl\u00e4hemm\u00e4s kahden tunnin ajan, ja molemmat haavoittuivat vaikeasti.\nMutta viimein Tristram herra sy\u00f6ksi Brennor herran suinp\u00e4in maahan ja\ntappoi h\u00e4net, ja se oli sen julman ja jumalattoman ritarin loppu.\nSenj\u00e4lkeen kokoontui kaikki kansa, joka kuului linnaan, Tristramin\nluo ja kunnioitti h\u00e4nt\u00e4 herranansa ja pyysi h\u00e4nt\u00e4 j\u00e4\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n sinne\nv\u00e4h\u00e4ksi aikaa poistaakseen tuon ilke\u00e4n tavan. Ja siihen Tristram\nherra suostui.\nMorgan le Fayn juomasarvi.\nKun he olivat saattaneet asiat oikein p\u00e4in Itkujen linnassa, niin\nTristram herra ja Kaunis Iseult l\u00e4htiv\u00e4t taas merelle, ja tulivat\nCornwalliin, jossa kaikki paroonit olivat heit\u00e4 vastassa. Ja Mark\nkuningas ja Kaunis Iseult naitettiin komeasti ja suurella loistolla.\nMutta sen taikajuoman t\u00e4hden, jonka he olivat juoneet, Tristram herra\nja Kaunis Iseult yh\u00e4 rakastivat hell\u00e4sti toisiaan, ja kaiken el\u00e4m\u00e4ns\u00e4\najan Tristram herra pysyi Iseult kuningattaren uskollisena ritarina\nja aina valmiina tekem\u00e4\u00e4n h\u00e4nen laillista palvelustaan.\nKerran kun Kauniin Iseultin vanha vihamies, saraseeniritari Palamides\nvei h\u00e4net pois, eik\u00e4 kukaan muu Markin hovissa ollut kylliksi\nvoimakas h\u00e4nt\u00e4 pelastamaan, niin Tristram herra ratsasti heid\u00e4n\nper\u00e4\u00e4ns\u00e4 ja vapautti Kauniin Iseultin linnasta, jonne h\u00e4net oli\nsuljettu vankeuteen, ja olisi tappanut Palamides herran, jollei\nKaunis Iseult olisi pyyt\u00e4nyt h\u00e4nt\u00e4 s\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n t\u00e4m\u00e4n henke\u00e4. Sill\u00e4\nPalamides herra ei ollut k\u00e4\u00e4ntynyt kristinuskoon, ja Kaunis Iseult\nei tahtonut ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n kuolisi saraseenina. Kauniin Iseultin t\u00e4hden\nTristram lakkasi taistelemasta, ja sen sijaan ett\u00e4 h\u00e4net olisi\ntapettu, Palamides herra k\u00e4skettiin l\u00e4htem\u00e4\u00e4n maasta, mink\u00e4 h\u00e4n\ntekikin, vaikka kovin vastoin tahtoansa.\nKun tuo pakanaritari oli sangen raskaalla mielell\u00e4 l\u00e4htenyt, niin\nTristram otti kuningattaren ja vei h\u00e4net takaisin Mark kuninkaalle,\nja suuri oli siell\u00e4 ilo ja riemu kuningattaren takaisin tulosta.\nKet\u00e4p\u00e4 silloin pidettiin hyv\u00e4n\u00e4, jollei Tristram herraa! Sill\u00e4 tapaa\nison aikaa kaikki oli pelkk\u00e4\u00e4 iloa ja riemua.\nMutta Mark kuninkaan hovissa oli muuan Tristram herran l\u00e4heinen\nserkku, nimelt\u00e4 Andred herra, ilke\u00e4 ja h\u00e4ijy mies. H\u00e4n kadehti ja\nvihasi Tristram herraa, koska t\u00e4m\u00e4 viimemainittu oli niin uljas ja\njalo ritari, ett\u00e4 jokainen h\u00e4nt\u00e4 rakasti. Andred herra ei uskaltanut\njulkisesti riidell\u00e4 h\u00e4nen kanssaan, mutta h\u00e4n v\u00e4ijyi ja vaani h\u00e4nt\u00e4\nalinomaa saadakseen h\u00e4net kiinni jostain salaisesta hairahduksesta,\nniin ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n saattaisi panetella h\u00e4nt\u00e4 h\u00e4nen enolleen. Ja Mark\nkuningas oli liiankin halukas uskomaan Tristramista kaikkea pahaa,\nsill\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli mustasukkainen sisarenpojalleen eik\u00e4 ollut unhoittanut\nsit\u00e4 vanhaa vihaa, jota h\u00e4n kantoi h\u00e4nt\u00e4 vastaan.\nNiin tapahtui er\u00e4\u00e4n\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4, ett\u00e4 Tristram herra puheli Iseult\nkuningattaren kanssa, ja Andred herra huomasi heid\u00e4t, ja toivoen\nsaavansa vahinkoa aikaan h\u00e4n meni ja kertoi sen kuninkaalle. Silloin\nMark kuningas tuli kauheasti raivoissaan, miekka k\u00e4dess\u00e4, ja kutsui\nTristramia \"kavalaksi petturiksi\" ja olisi ly\u00f6nyt h\u00e4net siin\u00e4\npaikassa kuoliaaksi. Mutta Tristram oli liian l\u00e4hell\u00e4 ja v\u00e4isti\nmiekan ja tempasi sen kuninkaan k\u00e4dest\u00e4.\n\"Miss\u00e4 ovat minun ritarini ja minun mieheni?\" kuningas sanoi. \"Min\u00e4\nk\u00e4sken teit\u00e4 tappamaan tuon petturin!\"\nMutta ei yksik\u00e4\u00e4n heist\u00e4 liikahtanut.\nKun Tristram herra n\u00e4ki ettei yksik\u00e4\u00e4n noussut h\u00e4nt\u00e4 vastaan, niin\nh\u00e4n oli iskevin\u00e4\u00e4n kuningasta miekalla, jonka t\u00e4hden Mark pakeni.\nSilloin Tristram meni pois ja asesti itsens\u00e4 ja ottaen ratsunsa ja\nmiehens\u00e4 h\u00e4n l\u00e4hti mets\u00e4\u00e4n.\nMark kuningas l\u00e4hetti monta ritaria h\u00e4nen per\u00e4\u00e4ns\u00e4, mutta Tristram\nherra tappoi kaksi ja haavoitti viel\u00e4 enemm\u00e4n, eik\u00e4 yksik\u00e4\u00e4n heist\u00e4\nvoinut voittaa h\u00e4nt\u00e4. Silloin Mark kuningas kutsui neuvoskuntansa\nkokoon ja kysyi parooneiltaan neuvoa, mit\u00e4 olisi paras tehd\u00e4 Tristram\nherran suhteen.\n\"Herra\", paroonit sanoivat, ja varsinkin Dinas herra, hovimestari,\n\"me neuvomme teit\u00e4 haetuttamaan Tristram herran mets\u00e4st\u00e4, sill\u00e4 me\ntahtoisimme saada teid\u00e4n tietoonne, ett\u00e4 moni mies menee Tristram\nherran puolelle, jos h\u00e4nt\u00e4 kovin ahdistetaan. Teid\u00e4n tulee tiet\u00e4\u00e4,\nherra, ett\u00e4 Tristramia pidet\u00e4\u00e4n voittamattomana ja verrattomana\nkaikkien kristittyjen ritarien joukossa, ja voimassa ja rohkeudessa\nei ole ket\u00e4\u00e4n h\u00e4nen kaltaistaan, jollei ehk\u00e4 J\u00e4rven herra Lancelot.\nJos h\u00e4n l\u00e4htee teid\u00e4n hovistanne ja menee Arthur kuninkaan hoviin,\nniin, huomatkaa tarkoin, h\u00e4n l\u00f6yt\u00e4\u00e4 sielt\u00e4 sellaisia yst\u00e4vi\u00e4, ett\u00e4\nv\u00e4h\u00e4t h\u00e4n v\u00e4litt\u00e4\u00e4 teid\u00e4n ilkeydest\u00e4nne. Sent\u00e4hden, herra, me\nneuvomme teit\u00e4 ottamaan h\u00e4net suosioonne.\"\n\"Suostun mielell\u00e4ni siihen, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4nt\u00e4 l\u00e4hetet\u00e4\u00e4n hakemaan, ett\u00e4\nmeist\u00e4 taas tulisi yst\u00e4v\u00e4t\", kuningas sanoi.\nSilloin paroonit l\u00e4hettiv\u00e4t hakemaan Tristramia varman\nsuojelussaattueen turvissa. Kun ritari palasi hoviin, niin h\u00e4net\nlausuttiin tervetulleeksi; ei puhuttu mit\u00e4\u00e4n siit\u00e4, mit\u00e4 oli\ntapahtunut, ja pantiin toimeen urheiluja ja huvituksia; kuningas ja\nkuningatar meniv\u00e4t mets\u00e4st\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n ja Tristram meni heid\u00e4n mukaansa.\nSiihen aikaan Morgan le Fay, tuo Arthur kuninkaan h\u00e4ijy sisar,\nl\u00e4hetti lahjan veljelleen. Se oli kaunis, kullalla kirjaeltu\njuomasarvi ja sill\u00e4 luultiin olevan jokin taikavoima, niin ett\u00e4\nei kukaan lady eik\u00e4 aatelisnainen voinut siit\u00e4 juoda, jollei h\u00e4n\nuskollisesti rakastanut miest\u00e4ns\u00e4; jollei h\u00e4n rakastanut miest\u00e4ns\u00e4,\nniin silloin kaikki juoma l\u00e4ik\u00e4hti maahan. Koska Morgan le Fay vihasi\nGuinevere kuningatarta, niin h\u00e4n oli l\u00e4hett\u00e4nyt t\u00e4m\u00e4n maljan Arthur\nkuninkaalle, toivoen saavansa ilkeill\u00e4 taikakeinoillaan jotain pahaa\naikaan.\nL\u00e4hettil\u00e4s, joka kantoi sarvea, sattui kohtaamaan er\u00e4\u00e4n Mark\nkuninkaan ritarin, Lamorak herran, jonka Tristram herra oli \u00e4skett\u00e4in\nkaatanut jossain turnajaisissa ja joka halusi saada kostaa. Kun\nh\u00e4n tunsi Mark kuninkaan vihan Tristram herraa kohtaan ja h\u00e4nen\nkateutensa sen vuoksi ett\u00e4 kaikki Tristramia rakastivat, niin\nLamorak herran mielest\u00e4 oli oiva tuuma anastaa sarvi ja l\u00e4hett\u00e4\u00e4\nse Mark kuninkaalle ja saada h\u00e4net koettamaan sit\u00e4 keinoa Iseult\nkuningattaren suhteen. H\u00e4n uhkasi tappaa l\u00e4hettil\u00e4\u00e4n, jollei t\u00e4m\u00e4\ntottelisi h\u00e4nen k\u00e4sky\u00e4ns\u00e4, ja noiduttu sarvi annettiin senvuoksi Mark\nkuninkaalle.\nKuningas pani Iseult kuningattaren juomaan siit\u00e4, ja samoin\nsata hovin lady\u00e4, ja vain nelj\u00e4 heist\u00e4 saattoi juoda maahan\nl\u00e4ik\u00e4ytt\u00e4m\u00e4tt\u00e4. Silloin tuo julma kuningas vannoi raivoissaan\nsellaisen valan, ett\u00e4 Iseult ja kaikki toiset ladyt piti poltettaman\nkuoliaaksi.\nMutta paroonit kokoontuivat yhteen ja sanoivat suoraan, etteiv\u00e4t\nhe salli polttaa noita ladyj\u00e4 noituudella tehdyn juomasarven\ntakia, jonka oli l\u00e4hett\u00e4nyt ilkein velhonainen mit\u00e4 maa p\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4\u00e4n\nkantoi. Sill\u00e4 tuo sarvi ei tehnyt suinkaan mit\u00e4\u00e4n hyv\u00e4\u00e4, vaan sai\nalinomaan aikaan riitaa ja toraa, ja koko ik\u00e4ns\u00e4 Morgan le Fay oli\nollut kaikkien rehellisten ja hyv\u00e4nsuopain ihmisten vihollinen. Ja\nmonet ritarit vakuuttivat, ett\u00e4 jos he vain koskaan kohtaisivat\nMorgan le Fayn, niin he osoittaisivat h\u00e4nelle kaikkea muuta kuin\nkohteliaisuutta.\nTristram herrakin oli hyvin suutuksissaan siit\u00e4 ett\u00e4 Lamorak herra\noli l\u00e4hett\u00e4nyt sarven Mark kuninkaalle, sill\u00e4 h\u00e4n arvasi ett\u00e4 sill\u00e4\noli aiottu tuottaa h\u00e4nelle ik\u00e4vyyksi\u00e4.\nBrittanyn Iseult.\nAndred herra oli sill\u00e4v\u00e4lin yh\u00e4 varuillaan ja odotti, kuinka h\u00e4n\nvoisi yll\u00e4tt\u00e4\u00e4 Tristram herran, ja viimein sopiva tilaisuus tulikin.\nEr\u00e4\u00e4n\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 h\u00e4n karkasi kahdentoista ritarin kera \u00e4kkiarvaamatta\nTristram herran kimppuun ja sitoi h\u00e4nen k\u00e4tens\u00e4 ja jalkansa.\nMark kuninkaan suostumuksella Tristram sitten vietiin pieneen\nrantakalliolla olevaan kappeliin kuulemaan tuomiotansa, ja h\u00e4net\nkuljetettiin sinne sidottuna nelj\u00e4nkymmenen ritarin keskell\u00e4.\nKun Tristram herra n\u00e4ki, ettei ollut pakenemisen mahdollisuutta, vaan\nett\u00e4 h\u00e4nen t\u00e4ytyisi kuolla, niin h\u00e4n sanoi:\n\"Jalot lordit, muistakaa mit\u00e4 min\u00e4 olen tehnyt Cornwallin maalle,\nja miss\u00e4 vaarassa min\u00e4 olen ollut teid\u00e4n kaikkien hyv\u00e4ksenne. Sill\u00e4\nsiihen aikaan, kun min\u00e4 taistelin Marhaus herraa vastaan Cornwallin\nveron maksun t\u00e4hden, kun te kaikki kielt\u00e4ydyitte rupeamasta\ntaisteluun h\u00e4nen kanssaan, minulle luvattiin parempi palkinto.\nSenvuoksi, niin totta kuin te olette rehellisi\u00e4 ritareita, \u00e4lk\u00e4\u00e4\nantako minun n\u00e4in h\u00e4pe\u00e4llisesti kuolla, sill\u00e4 se on h\u00e4pe\u00e4ksi koko\nritaris\u00e4\u00e4dylle, ett\u00e4 minua n\u00e4in kohdellaan. Sill\u00e4 min\u00e4 uskallan\nsanoa, etten viel\u00e4 koskaan ole tavannut ket\u00e4\u00e4n ritaria, jonka\narvoinen en olisi ollut, tai parempikin.\"\n\"Hyi h\u00e4pe\u00e4 sin\u00e4 katala petturi kerskattuinesi\", huusi Andred herra.\n\"Sill\u00e4 kaikesta ylv\u00e4stelyist\u00e4si huolimatta sinun pit\u00e4\u00e4 t\u00e4n\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4\nkuoleman.\"\n\"Andred, Andred\", Tristram herra sanoi, \"sinun pit\u00e4isi olla minun\nsukulaiseni, ja nyt sin\u00e4 k\u00e4ytt\u00e4ydyt minua kohtaan kuin vihollinen!\nMutta jollei meit\u00e4 olisi muita kuin sin\u00e4 ja min\u00e4, niin sin\u00e4 et minua\nsaisi surmatuksi.\"\n\"En!\" virkkoi Andred herra, ja samassa h\u00e4n tempaisi miekkansa ja\naikoi ly\u00f6d\u00e4 Tristramin kuoliaaksi.\nKun Tristram herra n\u00e4ki tuon uhkaavan liikkeen, niin h\u00e4n katsoi\nmolempia k\u00e4si\u00e4\u00e4n, jotka olivat lujasti sidotut kahteen ritariin, ja\n\u00e4kki\u00e4 h\u00e4n vet\u00e4isi ne itse\u00e4ns\u00e4 kohden ja kiskaisi ne irti. Sitten h\u00e4n\nhyp\u00e4hti Andred serkkunsa luo ja tempaisi miekan h\u00e4nen k\u00e4dest\u00e4\u00e4n ja\npaiskasi h\u00e4net maahan. Ja niin h\u00e4n taisteli, kunnes h\u00e4n oli tappanut\nkymmenen ritaria. Sitten h\u00e4n meni sis\u00e4lle kappeliin ja puolusti sit\u00e4\nuljaasti.\nMutta huuto ja kiljuna oli suuri, ja joukottain kansaa -- toista\nsataa -- virtaili Andred herran luo. Kun Tristram herra n\u00e4ki\nkansajoukon l\u00e4hestyv\u00e4n, niin h\u00e4n muisti olevansa ilman aseita, ja h\u00e4n\npani kiinni kappelin oven ja katkaisi ikkunan rautatangot, ja niin\nh\u00e4n hypp\u00e4si alas ja putosi merest\u00e4 kohoavalle karikolle. Ja silloin\nei Andred herra eik\u00e4 kukaan h\u00e4nen tovereistaan p\u00e4\u00e4ssyt h\u00e4neen k\u00e4siksi.\nSill\u00e4 v\u00e4lin Gouvernail ja kaksi Tristram herran miest\u00e4 olivat\nis\u00e4nt\u00e4\u00e4ns\u00e4 hakemassa. Kun he kuulivat ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli p\u00e4\u00e4ssyt pakoon,\nniin he iloitsivat suuresti, ja karikolta he h\u00e4net l\u00f6ysiv\u00e4t ja\nnostivat yl\u00f6s.\nTristram kysyi, miss\u00e4 kaunis Iseult oli, sill\u00e4 h\u00e4n luuli ett\u00e4 Andred\nherran joukko oli vienyt h\u00e4net pois. Mutta Gounernail vastasi, ett\u00e4\nkuningatar oli pantu pieneen hirve\u00e4\u00e4n h\u00f6kkeliin, joka oli rakennettu\nerilleen sairaita varten ja oli vaarallisen tartunnan pes\u00e4.\n\"Voi\", Tristram herra sanoi, \"se on kurja paikka sellaisen ladyn\noltavaksi, ja jos vain on minun vallassani niin h\u00e4n ei ole siell\u00e4\nkauan oleva.\" Ja niin h\u00e4n meni miehinens\u00e4 ja nouti pois Iseult\nkuningattaren ja vei h\u00e4net mets\u00e4\u00e4n kauniiseen kartanoon, ja sinne\nIseult j\u00e4i oleskelemaan, sill\u00e4 h\u00e4nt\u00e4 peloitti palata puolisonsa Mark\nkuninkaan luo.\nEr\u00e4\u00e4n\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 Tristram herra meni mets\u00e4\u00e4n hiukan urheilemaan, ja\nniin tapahtui ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n vaipui siell\u00e4 uneen. Ja muuan mies, jonka\nveljen Tristram jonkun aikaa sitten oli surmannut, tuli sit\u00e4 tiet\u00e4,\nja kun h\u00e4n n\u00e4ki Tristramin nukkuvan, niin h\u00e4n ampui nuolen h\u00e4nen\nolkansa l\u00e4pitse.\nSill\u00e4 v\u00e4lin oli kerrottu Mark kuninkaalle, kuinka Tristram herra\noli vienyt Iseult kuningattaren pois h\u00f6kkelist\u00e4 ja majoittanut\nh\u00e4net kartanoon, ja niin pian kuin kuningas sen kuuli, niin h\u00e4n\ntuli sinne monen ritarin kanssa tappamaan Tristram herraa. Mutta\nh\u00e4n saapui sinne silloin kun Tristram oli poissa mets\u00e4ss\u00e4 ja niin\nh\u00e4n otti Kauniin Iseultin mukaansa kotia, ja piti h\u00e4nt\u00e4 sen per\u00e4st\u00e4\nniin tarkasti teljettyn\u00e4, ettei Iseult mill\u00e4\u00e4n vallassaan olevilla\nkeinoilla voinut l\u00e4hett\u00e4\u00e4 sanaakaan Tristramille, eik\u00e4 Tristram\nliioin h\u00e4nelle.\nKun Tristram herra palasi mets\u00e4st\u00e4 sinne vanhaan kartanoon, niin h\u00e4n\nn\u00e4ki monien hevosten j\u00e4lki\u00e4 ja siit\u00e4 h\u00e4n arvasi ett\u00e4 h\u00e4nen ladyns\u00e4\noli mennyt. Silloin h\u00e4n k\u00e4vi sangen surulliseksi ja ison aikaa h\u00e4n\nsai k\u00e4rsi\u00e4 kovia tuskia, sill\u00e4 se nuoli, joka h\u00e4nt\u00e4 oli haavoittanut,\noli myrkytetty.\nViimein er\u00e4\u00e4n ladyn kautta, joka oli Bragwaine neidin serkku,\nIseult kuningatar sai l\u00e4hetetyksi sanan Tristram herralle. H\u00e4n\nilmoitti Tristramille, ettei h\u00e4nt\u00e4 mill\u00e4\u00e4n keinoin voitu parantaa\nCornwallissa. Senvuoksi Iseult pyysi h\u00e4nt\u00e4 rient\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n Brittanyyn\nHowell kuninkaan luo, ja siell\u00e4 h\u00e4n tapaisi t\u00e4m\u00e4n tytt\u00e4ren,\nValkok\u00e4tisen Iseultin, ja h\u00e4nelt\u00e4 Tristram saisi apua.\nNiin Tristram herra ja Gouvernail astuivat laivaan ja purjehtivat\nBrittanyyn. Howell kuningas oli suuresti iloissaan, kun h\u00e4n kuuli\nett\u00e4 Lyonessen herra Tristram oli saapunut. Tristram sanoi tulleensa\nh\u00e4nen maahansa saamaan apua h\u00e4nen tytt\u00e4relt\u00e4\u00e4n, sill\u00e4 h\u00e4nelle oli\nsanottu ettei kukaan muu voisi h\u00e4nt\u00e4 parantaa.\nJa lyhyess\u00e4 ajassa Brittanyn Iseult paransi Tristram herran\nvammastaan.\nTapahtuipa ett\u00e4 siihen aikaan Brittanyss\u00e4 oli muuan Grip niminen\njaarli, joka k\u00e4vi suurta sotaa Howell kuningasta vastaan ja pani\nh\u00e4net sangen ahtaalle ja piiritti h\u00e4nt\u00e4. Ja kerran kun kuninkaan\npoika Kehydius herra hy\u00f6kk\u00e4si ulos kaupungista, niin Grip herra\nhaavoitti h\u00e4net vaikeasti, melkein hengenvaarallisesti.\nSilloin Gouvernail meni kuninkaan luo ja sanoi:\n\"Herra, min\u00e4 neuvon teit\u00e4 pyyt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n minun herraltani, Tristramilta\napua h\u00e4d\u00e4ss\u00e4nne.\"\n\"Min\u00e4 teen niinkuin neuvotte\", kuningas sanoi. Ja niin h\u00e4n meni\nTristram herran luokse ja pyysi t\u00e4t\u00e4 auttamaan sodassa, kun h\u00e4nen\npoikansa Kehydius ei voinut tulla taistelutantereelle.\n\"Herra\", Tristram sanoi, \"min\u00e4 tulen taistelutantereelle ja teen mit\u00e4\nvoin.\"\nH\u00e4n hy\u00f6kk\u00e4si ulos kaupungista kaikkine joukkoineen, jotka h\u00e4n oli\nsaanut kokoon ja teki sellaisia tekoja, ett\u00e4 koko Brittany puhui\nh\u00e4nest\u00e4. Ja viimein h\u00e4n suurella voimallaan ja v\u00e4kevyydell\u00e4\u00e4n surmasi\nomin k\u00e4sin Grip jaarlin ja useita t\u00e4m\u00e4n ritareita.\nPalatessaan kaupunkiin Tristram herra otettiin vastaan suurilla\nkunnianosoituksilla ja juhlasaatolla. Howell kuningas syleili h\u00e4nt\u00e4\nja sanoi:\n\"Tristram herra, kaiken valtakuntani min\u00e4 tahdon luovuttaa sinulle.\"\n\"Jumala varjelkoon\", sanoi Tristram herra, \"sill\u00e4 min\u00e4 olen\nvelvollinen tekem\u00e4\u00e4n teid\u00e4n edest\u00e4nne mit\u00e4 voin, teid\u00e4n tytt\u00e4renne\nt\u00e4hden.\"\nSilloin Howell kuningas ja h\u00e4nen poikansa Kehydius tuumailivat,\nkuinka hyv\u00e4 olisi, jos Tristram herra naisi Valkok\u00e4tisen Iseultin. Ja\nsuuri mieltymys syntyi Tristramin ja Iseultin v\u00e4lille, sill\u00e4 tuo lady\noli sek\u00e4 hyv\u00e4 ett\u00e4 kaunis, ja jalosukuinen ja jalomielinen nainen.\nJa kun Tristram herraa pidettiin niin hyv\u00e4n\u00e4 ja kestiteltiin ja\nhuviteltiin kaikella tavalla, niin h\u00e4n v\u00e4h\u00e4ksi aikaa melkein unhoitti\nKauniin Iseultin, joka oli rakastanut h\u00e4nt\u00e4 jo kauan aikaa.\nNiin h\u00e4n suostui naimaan Brittanyn Iseultin, ja viimein heid\u00e4t\nnaitettiinkin ja h\u00e4\u00e4t vietettiin suurella loistolla ja komeudella.\nKummien seikkailujen mets\u00e4.\nKun Iseult kuningatar kuuli, ett\u00e4 Tristram herra oli nainut Brittanyn\nIseultin, niin h\u00e4n l\u00e4hetti kamarineidill\u00e4\u00e4n Bragwainella kirjeen\nTristramille, jossa h\u00e4n sanoi, ett\u00e4 jos Tristramia haluttaisi tulla\nh\u00e4nen hoviinsa ja ottaa Valkok\u00e4tinen Iseult mukaansa, niin heit\u00e4\nkohdeltaisiin oikein hyvin.\nTristram herran mielest\u00e4 ei ollut hyv\u00e4 ottaa vaimoansa mukaansa\nCornwalliin, sill\u00e4 h\u00e4n ei tiet\u00e4nyt, mit\u00e4 saattaisi tapahtua Mark\nkuninkaan vihamielisyyden vuoksi. Mutta h\u00e4n kutsui luokseen lankonsa,\nKehydius herran ja kysyi, tahtoisiko t\u00e4m\u00e4 tulla h\u00e4nen kanssaan.\nKehydius herra vastasi olevansa valmis koska hyv\u00e4ns\u00e4. Niin pieni\nlaiva varustettiin pikaisesti, ja siihen he meniv\u00e4t, -- Tristram\nherra, Kehydius, Bragwaine neiti ja Gouvernail, Tristram herran\nasemies.\nKun he olivat merell\u00e4, niin vastatuuli vei heid\u00e4t Pohjois-Walesin\nrannalle, l\u00e4helle Vaarallista linnaa. Silloin Tristram sanoi\nBragwaine neidille: \"Odottakaa t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 minua kymmenen p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4, ja\nj\u00e4\u00e4k\u00f6\u00f6n Gouvernail, minun asemieheni, teid\u00e4n seuraanne. Ja jos niin\nk\u00e4y ett\u00e4 minua ei kuulu sen ajan kuluttua, niin kulkekaa l\u00e4hint\u00e4\ntiet\u00e4 Cornwalliin, sill\u00e4 olen kuullut sanottavan, ett\u00e4 t\u00e4ss\u00e4 mets\u00e4ss\u00e4\nsaa kohdata monta kummaa seikkailua ja min\u00e4 haluan koetella muutamia,\nennenkuin jatkan matkaani. Ja niin pian kuin voin, tahdon rient\u00e4\u00e4\nteid\u00e4n j\u00e4lkeenne.\"\nTristram herra ja Kehydius herra ottivat ratsunsa ja j\u00e4ttiv\u00e4t\nseuralaisensa ja ratsastivat pitkin mets\u00e4\u00e4 penikulman ja enemm\u00e4nkin.\nJa siell\u00e4 heille tuli vastaan muuan vaeltava ritari, jonka kanssa he\ntjostasivat, mutta ensi t\u00f6rm\u00e4yksess\u00e4 Kehydius herra suistui maahan\nja haavoittui vaikeasti. Niin Tristram herra ja se toinen ritari,\njonka nimi oli Walesin Lamorak, asettivat h\u00e4net kilvelle ja kantoivat\nh\u00e4net keskell\u00e4\u00e4n er\u00e4\u00e4n mets\u00e4nvartijan asuntoon, jonka mieleen he\nteroittivat, ett\u00e4 Kehydius herraa oli hyvin hoidettava. Kolmen\np\u00e4iv\u00e4n per\u00e4st\u00e4 nuo molemmat toiset ritarit ottivat ratsunsa, ja tien\nristeyksess\u00e4 he erosivat.\nKun Tristram herra ratsasti tiet\u00e4ns\u00e4 yksin\u00e4\u00e4n, niin sattui ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n\nkohtasi Kay herran, hovimestarin. Kay herra kysyi Tristram herralta,\nmist\u00e4 maasta h\u00e4n oli; ja j\u00e4lkim\u00e4inen vastasi olevansa Cornwallin\nmaasta.\n\"Niinp\u00e4 saattaa ollakin\", sanoi Kay herra pilkallisesti, \"sill\u00e4 eip\u00e4\nCornwallista ole koskaan kuulunut tulleenkaan ket\u00e4\u00e4n kelpo ritaria.\"\n\"Sep\u00e4 on pahasti puhuttu\", Tristram herra sanoi, \"mutta min\u00e4 pyyd\u00e4n\nteit\u00e4 ilmoittamaan minulle nimenne.\"\n\"Herra, minun nimeni on Kay herra, hovimestari.\"\n\"Sek\u00f6 teid\u00e4n nimenne on\", Tristram herra sanoi; \"tiet\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4p\u00e4\nsitten, ett\u00e4 teit\u00e4 kutsutaan pahasuisimmaksi kaikista nyt el\u00e4vist\u00e4\nritareista; teit\u00e4 sanotaan kyll\u00e4 uljaaksi ritariksi, mutta h\u00e4ijyksi\nja kaikkein ilke\u00e4kielisimm\u00e4ksi.\"\nSitten he ratsastivat yhdess\u00e4, kunnes tulivat er\u00e4\u00e4lle sillalle, ja\nsiell\u00e4 seisoi muuan ritari, joka ei tahtonut antaa heid\u00e4n menn\u00e4\nohi, ennenkuin jompikumpi heist\u00e4 oli tjostannut h\u00e4nen kanssaan.\nNiin ritari tjostasi Kay herran kanssa ja sy\u00f6ksi h\u00e4net maahan; sen\nritarin nimi oli Tor herra, Lamorak herran velipuoli, ja he olivat\nPellinoren poikia, sen saman ritarin, jonka kanssa Arthur kuningas\nkerran oli otellut. Sitten Tristram herra ja Kay herra ratsastivat\nmajapaikkaansa, ja siell\u00e4 he tapasivat er\u00e4\u00e4n toisen ritarin, jota\nnimitettiin Brandiles herraksi, ja Tor herra tuli sinne pian j\u00e4ljess\u00e4.\nKun nuo nelj\u00e4 ritaria istuivat illallisella, niin kolme heist\u00e4 puhui\nkaikkea pahaa Cornwallin ritareista. Tristram kuuli mit\u00e4 he sanoivat,\nja h\u00e4n puhui vain v\u00e4h\u00e4n, mutta ajatteli sit\u00e4 enemm\u00e4n, eik\u00e4 h\u00e4n sill\u00e4\nkertaa ilmaissut heille nime\u00e4\u00e4n.\nAamulla h\u00e4n otti ratsunsa ja kulki heid\u00e4n kanssaan. Matkalla\nBrandiles herra tarjoutui taistelemaan h\u00e4nen kanssaan, ja Tristram\nherra paiskasi h\u00e4net maahan, ratsuineen p\u00e4ivineen. Sitten Tor\nherra karautti Tristram herraa vastaan, ja Tristram herra paiskasi\nmaahan h\u00e4netkin. Sitten h\u00e4n ratsasti yksin\u00e4\u00e4n; Kay herra tuli h\u00e4nen\nper\u00e4ss\u00e4\u00e4n, mutta Tristram ei huolinut h\u00e4nen seurastansa.\n\"Tahtoisinpa mielell\u00e4ni tiet\u00e4\u00e4, mik\u00e4 tuon ritarin nimi on\", virkkoi\nBrandiles herra, ajaen Kay herran luokse.\n\"Tulkaa minun kanssani\", Kay herra sanoi, \"pyyt\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4mme h\u00e4nt\u00e4\nilmoittamaan meille nimens\u00e4.\"\nSitten he ratsastivat yhdess\u00e4, kunnes tulivat l\u00e4helle Tristramia ja\nn\u00e4kiv\u00e4t kuinka h\u00e4n istui l\u00e4hteen reunalla ja oli ottanut kyp\u00e4rin\np\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4ns\u00e4 juodakseen l\u00e4hteest\u00e4. Kun h\u00e4n n\u00e4ki heid\u00e4n tulevan, niin\nh\u00e4n sitoi kiinni kyp\u00e4rins\u00e4 ja otti ratsunsa ja tarjoutui tjostaamaan\nheid\u00e4n kanssansa.\n\"\u00c4lk\u00e4\u00e4h\u00e4n toki\", Brandiles herra sanoi, \"\u00e4skenh\u00e4n juuri tjostasimme\nteid\u00e4n kanssanne, emme tule siin\u00e4 tarkoituksessa. Vaan me tulemme\npyyt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n, ett\u00e4 ritarillisuudesta ilmoittaisitte meille nimenne.\"\n\"Jalot ritarit, koska se on teid\u00e4n toivomuksenne ja koska se teit\u00e4\nhuvittaa, niin tiet\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4 sitten, ett\u00e4 minun nimeni on Lyonessen\nTristram, Cornwallin kuninkaan Markin sisarenpoika.\"\n\"Ajallansa kaikki tapahtuu\", Brandiles herra sanoi. \"Tiet\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4,\nett\u00e4 me olemme oikein iloisia, ett\u00e4 olemme tavanneet teid\u00e4t,\nja me kuulumme ritariseurueeseen, joka oikein iloitsisi teid\u00e4n\nkumppanuudestanne. Sill\u00e4 te olette se ritari, jota Py\u00f6re\u00e4n p\u00f6yd\u00e4n\nritarikunta kaikkein hartaimmin joukkoonsa haluaa.\"\n\"Min\u00e4 kiit\u00e4n heit\u00e4 heid\u00e4n suuresta hyvyydest\u00e4ns\u00e4\", Tristram herra\nsanoi, \"mutta t\u00e4h\u00e4n asti olen tuntenut, etten ole ollut mahdollinen\nheid\u00e4n joukkoonsa kuulumaan. Sill\u00e4 min\u00e4 en ole tehnyt sellaisia\nansiokkaita tekoja, jotta voisin kuulua moiseen ritarikuntaan.\"\n\"Oh\", sanoi Kay herra, \"jos te olette Lyonessen Tristram, niin te\nolette se mies, jota t\u00e4t\u00e4 nyky\u00e4 pidet\u00e4\u00e4n kaikkein miehuullisimpana,\nlukuunottamatta J\u00e4rven Lancelotia. Sill\u00e4 sit\u00e4 miest\u00e4 ei ole\nel\u00e4vien joukossa, ei kristitty\u00e4 eik\u00e4 pakanaa, joka voisi n\u00e4ytt\u00e4\u00e4\ntoisen sellaisen ritarin, jonka miehuutta ja taitoa ja sen lis\u00e4ksi\nuskollisuutta niin saattaisi ylist\u00e4\u00e4. Sill\u00e4 viel\u00e4 ei ole yksik\u00e4\u00e4n\nvoinut kertoa h\u00e4nest\u00e4 mit\u00e4\u00e4n kunniatonta, eik\u00e4 todistaa sit\u00e4 todeksi.\"\nSill\u00e4 tapaa he puhelivat ison aikaa, ja sitten he erkanivat\ntoisistaan ja l\u00e4htiv\u00e4t ratsastamaan kukin sit\u00e4 tiet\u00e4, joka n\u00e4ytti\nh\u00e4nest\u00e4 parhaimmalta.\nMutta t\u00e4h\u00e4n aikaan muuan ilke\u00e4 velhonainen, nimelt\u00e4 Anna lady, oli\nkauniilla sanoilla ja kavalalla viekkaudella houkutellut Arthur\nkuninkaan ratsastamaan kanssansa Vaaralliseen mets\u00e4\u00e4n. Anna lady oli\nsuuri noita ja h\u00e4n oli kauan aikaa rakastanut Arthur kuningasta,\nja senvuoksi h\u00e4n oli tullut siihen maahan. Kun Arthur kuningas oli\nl\u00e4htenyt tuon ladyn keralla, ja kun h\u00e4nen ritarinsa huomasivat,\nett\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli poissa, niin useat heist\u00e4 l\u00e4htiv\u00e4t kuninkaan j\u00e4lkeen,\nniinkuin Lancelot herra, Brandiles ja monet muut.\nVelhonainen vei Arthur kuninkaan linnaansa ja toivoi voittavansa\nh\u00e4nen rakkautensa, mutta kuningas muisti omaa lady\u00e4ns\u00e4, Guinevere\nkuningatarta, eik\u00e4 suostunut rakastamaan tuota noitanaista, vaikka\nt\u00e4m\u00e4 olisi k\u00e4ytt\u00e4nyt mit\u00e4 taikakeinoja tahansa. Silloin Anna lady\nl\u00e4hetti h\u00e4net joka p\u00e4iv\u00e4 ratsastelemaan tuohon mets\u00e4\u00e4n omien\nritariensa kera, siin\u00e4 tarkoituksessa, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n olisi siell\u00e4 saanut\nsurmansa. Sill\u00e4 kun t\u00e4m\u00e4 Anna lady ei saanut tahtoansa t\u00e4ytetyksi,\nniin h\u00e4n koetti kaikilla kavalilla keinoilla saada Arthur kuninkaan\nsurmatuksi ja tapetuksi.\nMutta J\u00e4rven neito -- jonka nimi oli Nimue -- joka yh\u00e4 viel\u00e4kin\noli yst\u00e4v\u00e4llismielinen Arthur kuningasta kohtaan, sai ovelilla\ntaikakeinoillaan tiet\u00e4\u00e4, ett\u00e4 kuningas oli suuressa vaarassa, ja\nsenvuoksi h\u00e4n tuli Vaaralliseen mets\u00e4\u00e4n hakemaan Lancelot herraa tai\nTristram herraa Arthur kuninkaan avuksi. Sill\u00e4 J\u00e4rven lady tiesi ett\u00e4\nsin\u00e4 samana p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 Arthur kuningas oli surmansa saava, jollei h\u00e4n\nsaisi apua jommaltakummalta noista molemmista ritareista.\nNiin h\u00e4n ratsasti edestakaisin, kunnes h\u00e4n kohtasi Tristram herran,\nja heti kun h\u00e4n n\u00e4ki Tristramin, niin h\u00e4n tunsi h\u00e4net.\n\"Oi, Tristram herra\", h\u00e4n sanoi, \"olkaa tervetullut ja siunattu\nolkoon se hetki, jona teid\u00e4t kohtasin! Sill\u00e4 juuri t\u00e4n\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 ja\nn\u00e4iden kahden tunnin kuluessa tulee tapahtumaan h\u00e4pe\u00e4llisin teko,\nmit\u00e4 koskaan on tehty t\u00e4ss\u00e4 maassa.\"\n\"Oi, jalo neito\", Tristram herra sanoi, \"voinko min\u00e4 sit\u00e4 est\u00e4\u00e4?\"\n\"Seuratkaa minua\", neito sanoi, \"ja niin nopeasti kuin vain voitte,\nsill\u00e4 te saatte n\u00e4hd\u00e4 maailman kunnianarvoisimman ritarin suuressa\nh\u00e4d\u00e4ss\u00e4.\"\nSilloin Tristram herra sanoi: \"Min\u00e4 olen valmis auttamaan sellaista\njaloa miest\u00e4.\"\n\"Se ei ole kenk\u00e4\u00e4n parempi eik\u00e4 huonompi kuin itse Arthur kuningas\",\nsanoi J\u00e4rven neito.\n\"Jumala varjelkoon h\u00e4nt\u00e4 koskaan sellaiseen h\u00e4t\u00e4\u00e4n joutumasta\", sanoi\nTristram herra.\nHe ratsastivat yhdess\u00e4 t\u00e4ytt\u00e4 karkua, kunnes saapuivat pienelle\nlinnalle, ja tuon linnan juurella he n\u00e4kiv\u00e4t er\u00e4\u00e4n ritarin seisovan\nja taistelevan kahta ritaria vastaan. Tristram herra tarkasteli\nniit\u00e4, ja viimein h\u00e4n n\u00e4ki kuinka nuo molemmat ritarit paiskasivat\ntuon yhden ritarin maahan ja toinen niist\u00e4 irroitti h\u00e4nen kyp\u00e4rins\u00e4\nly\u00f6d\u00e4kseen h\u00e4net kuoliaaksi. Ja Anna lady sai Arthur kuninkaan miekan\nk\u00e4teens\u00e4 katkaistakseen sill\u00e4 h\u00e4nen kaulansa.\nSilloin Tristram herra rynt\u00e4si eteenp\u00e4in kaikella voimallaan ja\nv\u00e4ell\u00e4\u00e4n ja huusi: \"Kavala nainen, kavala nainen, anna olla!\" Ja\nnopeasti h\u00e4n kaatoi toisen ritarin toisen per\u00e4\u00e4n, niin ett\u00e4 ne\nmolemmat vaipuivat kuoliaina maahan.\nSill\u00e4 v\u00e4lin J\u00e4rven neito huusi Arthur kuninkaalle: \"\u00c4lk\u00e4\u00e4 antako tuon\nkavalan naisen p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 pakoon!\" Ja Arthur kuningas sieppasi \u00e4kki\u00e4 tuon\nilke\u00e4n noidan kiinni, ja sill\u00e4 samalla miekalla, jota tuo ilke\u00e4 noita\npiti k\u00e4dess\u00e4\u00e4n, Arthur kuningas l\u00f6i poikki h\u00e4nen p\u00e4\u00e4ns\u00e4.\nTristram herra asetti Arthur kuninkaan ratsun selk\u00e4\u00e4n ja ratsasti\npois h\u00e4nen kerallaan, mutta h\u00e4n varoitti J\u00e4rven neitoa sill\u00e4 kertaa\nviel\u00e4 ilmaisemasta h\u00e4nen nime\u00e4ns\u00e4. Kun kuningas oli noussut ratsun\nselk\u00e4\u00e4n, kiitti h\u00e4n syd\u00e4mellisesti Tristram herraa ja pyysi saada\ntiet\u00e4\u00e4 h\u00e4nen nimens\u00e4, mutta Tristram ei tahtonut sanoa h\u00e4nelle\nmuuta kuin ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli muuan seikkailuilla kulkeva ritariparka. Ja\nniin h\u00e4n teki kuninkaalle seuraa, kunnes t\u00e4m\u00e4 kohtasi muutamia omia\nritareitaan.\nPenikulman kuljettuaan he kohtasivat Ector herran, joka ei tuntenut\nArthur kuningasta eik\u00e4 Tristram herraa ja halusi tjostata heist\u00e4\ntoisen kanssa. Tristram herra suostui h\u00e4nen tarjoukseensa, ja ty\u00f6nsi\nh\u00e4net ykskaks alas satulasta. Sen tehty\u00e4\u00e4n h\u00e4n palasi taas kuninkaan\nluo ja sanoi:\n\"Herrani, tuolla on yksi teid\u00e4n ritareistanne, h\u00e4n voi tehd\u00e4 teille\nseuraa, ja kerran te viel\u00e4 tulette ymm\u00e4rt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n, ett\u00e4 min\u00e4 tahdoin\nteit\u00e4 palvella.\"\n\"Voi\", sanoi Arthur kuningas, \"ilmoittakaa minulle, ken te olette.\"\n\"En t\u00e4ll\u00e4 kertaa\", sanoi Tristram herra. Niin h\u00e4n l\u00e4hti ja j\u00e4tti\nArthur kuninkaan Ector herran seuraan.\nMets\u00e4n kurja mies.\nM\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 Tristram herra palasi sinne mets\u00e4vartijan asuntoon,\njonne Kehidius herra oli j\u00e4tetty paranemaan haavoistansa, ja he\nratsastivat laivalle, jossa Bragwaine neiti ja Gouvernail olivat\nodottamassa, ja niin he kaikki yhdess\u00e4 purjehtivat Cornwalliin.\nIseult kuningatar iloitsi enemm\u00e4n kuin kieli saattaa kertoa, kun\nh\u00e4n taas sai n\u00e4hd\u00e4 Tristram herran, mutta Tristram ei voinut j\u00e4\u00e4d\u00e4\nTintagelin linnaan, sill\u00e4 Mark kuningas vihasi h\u00e4nt\u00e4 yh\u00e4 ja olisi\nsurmannut h\u00e4net, jos vain olisi voinut. Niin Tristram herra otti\nratsunsa ja varuksensa ja ratsasti mets\u00e4\u00e4n, ja siell\u00e4 h\u00e4n vietti\nmonta p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4 yksin\u00e4isyydess\u00e4 ja katkerassa surussa. Eik\u00e4 yksik\u00e4\u00e4n\ntiet\u00e4nyt minne h\u00e4n oli joutunut. Muuan hovineiti meni h\u00e4nt\u00e4 etsim\u00e4\u00e4n,\nmutta ei mik\u00e4\u00e4n, mit\u00e4 h\u00e4n sanoi tai teki, voinut lohduttaa Tristram\nherraa, eik\u00e4 Tristram herra tahtonut sy\u00f6d\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n mit\u00e4\u00e4n ruokaa eik\u00e4\njuoda, kun hovineiti sit\u00e4 h\u00e4nelle toi. Silloin tapahtui ett\u00e4 Tristram\nherra kuljeskellessaan tuli l\u00e4helle sit\u00e4 samaa linnaa, jossa h\u00e4n ja\nPalamides herra olivat taistelleet, silloin kun Kaunis Iseult eroitti\nheid\u00e4t. Ja neiti meni linnan rouvan luokse ja kertoi h\u00e4nelle Tristram\nherran onnettomuudesta.\n\"Voi\", lady sanoi, \"miss\u00e4 sitten on minun herrani Tristram?\"\n\"T\u00e4ss\u00e4 aivan teid\u00e4n linnanne vieress\u00e4\", sanoi neiti.\n\"Hyv\u00e4\u00e4n aikaanpa h\u00e4n tulikin\", lady sanoi, \"h\u00e4nen pit\u00e4\u00e4 saada ruokaa\nja juomaa parasta mit\u00e4 on, ja minulla on h\u00e4nen harppunsa, jolla h\u00e4n\nopetti minua soittamaan -- sill\u00e4 hyv\u00e4ss\u00e4 harpunsoitossa h\u00e4n vie\nvoiton kaikista muista.\"\nJa niin tuo lady ja neiti veiv\u00e4t Tristramille ruokaa ja juomaa,\nmutta h\u00e4n s\u00f6i vain v\u00e4h\u00e4n. H\u00e4n ajoi pois ratsunsa luotansa ja riisui\nylt\u00e4\u00e4n varuksensa ja vaelsi mets\u00e4n jylhimpiin osiin. Toisinaan h\u00e4n\nkatkoi puita ja oksia, ja toisina aikoina taas, kun h\u00e4n sai k\u00e4siins\u00e4\nsen harpun, jonka lady oli h\u00e4nelle l\u00e4hett\u00e4nyt, niin silloin h\u00e4n\nusein soitti sit\u00e4 ja itki. Ja toisinaan kun Tristram herra harhaili\nmets\u00e4ss\u00e4, eik\u00e4 linnan lady tiet\u00e4nyt, miss\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli, niin lady istui\nsoittamaan harppua; silloin Tristram usein tuli sit\u00e4 kuuntelemaan ja\ntoisinaan h\u00e4n saattoi soittaa itsekin.\nSellaista kesti monta kuukautta, mutta lopulta Tristram herra l\u00e4hti\ntiehens\u00e4, eik\u00e4 linnan lady tiet\u00e4nyt, minne h\u00e4n oli joutunut.\nNyt alkoi vaikea aika Tristram herra raukalle. H\u00e4n murehti niin\nsyv\u00e4sti ja niin kauan tuossa autiossa ja kolkossa mets\u00e4ss\u00e4, ett\u00e4\nh\u00e4nen muistinsa vallan katosi ja h\u00e4n unhoitti kaikki ritarilliset\nasiat. H\u00e4nen vaatteensa putoilivat repaleina h\u00e4nen p\u00e4\u00e4lt\u00e4\u00e4n ja h\u00e4n\nk\u00e4vi laihaksi ja kuivaksi: ja niin h\u00e4n joutui paimenten ja lampurien\nseuraan, ja joka p\u00e4iv\u00e4 he antoivat h\u00e4nelle ruokaa ja juomaa, ja he\nkeritsiv\u00e4t h\u00e4nt\u00e4 lammassaksilla ja kohtelivat h\u00e4nt\u00e4 kuin hullua.\nMutta vaikka h\u00e4n oli menett\u00e4nyt kaiken muistinsa, niin h\u00e4n oli\nsent\u00e4\u00e4n vahva ruumiiltaan ja rohkea mielelt\u00e4\u00e4n. Kerrankin kun h\u00e4nen\nyst\u00e4vi\u00e4\u00e4n paimenia ahdisti Dagonet herra, Arthur kuninkaan hovinarri,\nja kaksi asemiest\u00e4, niin Tristram herra riensi paimenten avuksi,\nvoitti Dagonetin, surmasi toisen asemiehen ja ajoi toisen pakoon.\nSill\u00e4 v\u00e4lin h\u00e4nen ilke\u00e4 serkkunsa Andred herra levitteli kaikkialle\nsit\u00e4 huhua, ett\u00e4 Tristram oli kuollut. H\u00e4n sai er\u00e4\u00e4n ladyn kertomaan\nMark kuninkaan hovissa sen valheellisen jutun, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli Tristram\nherran luona silloin kun t\u00e4m\u00e4 kuoli, ja ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli haudannut\nh\u00e4net er\u00e4\u00e4n l\u00e4hteen l\u00e4helle ja ett\u00e4 Tristram herra oli kuollessaan\npyyt\u00e4nyt, ett\u00e4 Mark kuningas tekisi h\u00e4nen serkkunsa Andred herran\nLyonessen maan kuninkaaksi, jonka maan hallitsija Tristram herra oli.\nKaiken t\u00e4m\u00e4n Andred herra teki sen vuoksi, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n tahtoi saada\nTristram herran maat haltuunsa.\nMark kuningas itki ja oli kovasti surevinaan, kun h\u00e4n kuuli ett\u00e4\nTristram herra oli kuollut. Mutta kun t\u00e4m\u00e4 sanoma saapui Iseult\nkuningattaren kuuluviin, niin h\u00e4n murehti niin ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli aivan\nmenett\u00e4\u00e4 j\u00e4rkens\u00e4; h\u00e4n sairastui surusta ja makasi kauan aikaa\nsairaana, melkein kuoleman kieliss\u00e4.\nMutta siin\u00e4 maassa oli j\u00e4ttil\u00e4inen nimelt\u00e4 Tauleas. Pel\u00e4ten\nTristramia h\u00e4n ei yli seitsem\u00e4\u00e4n vuoteen ollut uskaltanut paljoa\nliikuskella, vaan pysytteli enimm\u00e4kseen er\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4 lujassa linnassa,\njoka oli h\u00e4nen omansa. Mutta kun Tauleas kuuli tuon Markin hovista\nlevitetyn jutun, ett\u00e4 Tristram oli kuollut, niin h\u00e4n alkoi taas k\u00e4yd\u00e4\njoka p\u00e4iv\u00e4 ulkona. Niin tapahtui yhten\u00e4 aamuna, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n mets\u00e4ss\u00e4\nkuljeskellessaan tuli paimenten parveen ja istui lep\u00e4\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n l\u00e4hteen\nreunalle.\nH\u00e4nen siin\u00e4 istuessaan tuli muuan cornwallilainen ritari nimelt\u00e4\nDinant herra, joka kuljetti mukanaan er\u00e4st\u00e4 lady\u00e4. Kun j\u00e4ttil\u00e4inen\nn\u00e4ki ritarin, l\u00e4hti h\u00e4n pois paimenten luota ja piiloittautui puun\nalle; ja ritari tuli l\u00e4hteelle ja astui alas ratsunsa sel\u00e4st\u00e4\nlep\u00e4\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n.\nTuskin oli ritari hyp\u00e4nnyt maahan, kun Tauleas j\u00e4ttil\u00e4inen tuli\nritarin ja t\u00e4m\u00e4n ratsun v\u00e4liin ja otti ratsun ja hypp\u00e4si sen selk\u00e4\u00e4n.\nSitten h\u00e4n ratsasti Dinant herraa vastaan, tarttui h\u00e4neen kaulurista,\nnosti h\u00e4net eteens\u00e4 ja aikoi ly\u00f6d\u00e4 poikki h\u00e4nen p\u00e4\u00e4ns\u00e4.\n\"Auttakaa tuota ritaria!\", huusivat silloin paimenet Tristram\nherralle.\n\"Auttakaa h\u00e4nt\u00e4 itse!\" Tristram sanoi.\n\"Emme me uskalla\", paimenet sanoivat. Silloin Tristram n\u00e4ki ritarin\nmiekan makaavan maassa ja h\u00e4n juoksi ja otti sen k\u00e4teens\u00e4 ja l\u00f6i\npoikki p\u00e4\u00e4n j\u00e4ttil\u00e4iselt\u00e4, ja palasi sitten taas paimenten luo.\nPalattuaan hoviin Dinant herra kertoi Mark kuninkaalle siit\u00e4\nseikkailusta, joka oli sattunut h\u00e4nelle mets\u00e4ss\u00e4 ja kuinka muuan\nhullu mies oli pelastanut h\u00e4net kauhean Tauleas j\u00e4ttil\u00e4isen k\u00e4sist\u00e4.\n\"Miss\u00e4 teille sattui se seikkailu\", kysyi Mark kuningas.\n\"Teid\u00e4n mets\u00e4ss\u00e4nne sen kauniin l\u00e4hteen luona, jossa monet\nseikkailuhaluiset ritarit tapaavat toisensa\", Dinant herra virkkoi,\n\"ja siell\u00e4 on se hullu mies.\"\n\"Vai niin\", Mark kuningas sanoi, \"tahdonpa n\u00e4hd\u00e4 tuon hullun miehen.\"\nNiin p\u00e4iv\u00e4n tai parin kuluttua Mark kuningas antoi ritareilleen ja\nmets\u00e4st\u00e4jilleen m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4yksen, ett\u00e4 heid\u00e4n piti seuraavana aamuna olla\nvalmiit mets\u00e4st\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n, ja aamulla h\u00e4n meni mets\u00e4\u00e4n. Ja kun h\u00e4n tuli\nl\u00e4hteelle, niin h\u00e4n n\u00e4ki siell\u00e4 komean miehen makaavan nukuksissaan\nmaassa, miekka vieress\u00e4\u00e4n. Kuningas k\u00e4ski ritareitansa nostamaan\nh\u00e4net varovaisesti maasta ja viem\u00e4\u00e4n h\u00e4net Tintagelin linnaan, jonka\nhe tekiv\u00e4tkin. Ja siell\u00e4 h\u00e4net pestiin ja kylvetettiin ja h\u00e4nelle\nannettiin l\u00e4mmint\u00e4 ruokaa, niin ett\u00e4 Tristram herra kohta sai\nkadotetun muistinsa kokonaan takaisin.\nMutta koko t\u00e4n\u00e4 aikana ei ainoakaan olento tuntenut Tristram herraa,\neik\u00e4 mik\u00e4 mies h\u00e4n oli.\nSattuipa silloin yhten\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 ett\u00e4 kuningatar, Kaunis Iseult, sai\nkuulla tuosta mets\u00e4n eriskummaisesta miehest\u00e4 ja kuinka kuningas oli\ntuonut h\u00e4net kotia hoviin. Silloin Iseult kuningatar kutsui Bragwaine\nneidin luokseen ja sanoi: \"Tulkaa minun kanssani, sill\u00e4 min\u00e4 tahdon\nmenn\u00e4 katsomaan tuota miest\u00e4, jonka minun herrani toi mets\u00e4st\u00e4.\" Niin\nhe meniv\u00e4t ulos ja kysyiv\u00e4t, miss\u00e4 se sairas mies oli. Muuan asemies\nilmoitti silloin kuningattarelle, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli puutarhassa lep\u00e4\u00e4m\u00e4ss\u00e4\nauringon paisteessa.\nKun kuningatar katsoi Tristram herraa, niin h\u00e4n ei muistanut kuka h\u00e4n\noli, mutta kuitenkin h\u00e4n sanoi Bragwainelle: \"Minusta tuntuu kuin\nolisin n\u00e4hnyt h\u00e4net monasti t\u00e4t\u00e4 ennen.\"\nMutta heti kun Tristram herra n\u00e4ki Iseultin, niin h\u00e4n tunsi h\u00e4net\nsangen hyvin ja k\u00e4\u00e4nsi pois p\u00e4\u00e4ns\u00e4 ja itki.\nKuningattarella oli aina mukanaan pieni koira, jonka Tristram herra\noli h\u00e4nelle antanut kaikkein ensim\u00e4isen\u00e4 aikana h\u00e4nen Cornwalliin\ntulonsa j\u00e4lkeen, eik\u00e4 tuo pieni koira j\u00e4tt\u00e4nyt koskaan kuningatarta,\npaitsi kun Tristram herra itse oli l\u00e4hettyvill\u00e4.\nHeti kun tuo pieni koira tuli l\u00e4helle Tristramia, niin se hypp\u00e4si\nh\u00e4nen p\u00e4\u00e4lleen ja nuoli h\u00e4nen poskiaan ja korviaan ja vinkui ja\nhyppeli h\u00e4nen ylitsens\u00e4.\n\"Voi, valtiattareni\", sanoi Bragwaine neiti Kauniille Iseultille.\n\"Oi voi!\" kuningatar huusi, \"min\u00e4 n\u00e4en, ett\u00e4 se on minun oma herrani\nTristram!\" ja senj\u00e4lkeen vaipui h\u00e4n tainnoksiin ja makasi kauan aikaa\ntiedotonna, sill\u00e4 h\u00e4n pel\u00e4styi n\u00e4hdess\u00e4\u00e4n Tristram herran el\u00e4v\u00e4n\u00e4,\npidetty\u00e4\u00e4n h\u00e4nt\u00e4 niin kauan aikaa kuolleena. V\u00e4hitellen, sen mukaan\nkuin h\u00e4n saattoi puhua, h\u00e4n sanoi: \"Minun herrani Tristram, ylistetty\nolkoon Jumala, ett\u00e4 olette hengiss\u00e4! Min\u00e4 olen varma, ett\u00e4 teid\u00e4t\ntunnetaan t\u00e4m\u00e4n pienen koiran avulla, sill\u00e4 sit\u00e4 ei mitenk\u00e4\u00e4n saa\nl\u00e4htem\u00e4\u00e4n teid\u00e4n luotanne. Mutta min\u00e4 olen my\u00f6s varma siit\u00e4, ett\u00e4\nkun minun herrani Mark kuningas tuntee teid\u00e4t, niin h\u00e4n karkoittaa\nteid\u00e4t Cornwallin maasta, taikka sitten h\u00e4n surmaa teid\u00e4t. Tehk\u00e4\u00e4\nsent\u00e4hden niinkuin Mark kuningas tahtoo ja menk\u00e4\u00e4 Arthur kuninkaan\nhoviin, sill\u00e4 sinne teit\u00e4 halutaan. Ja milloin vain voin, min\u00e4\nl\u00e4het\u00e4n teille sanomia, ja te saatte tulla minua katsomaan koska\nvain haluatte, ja kaikkina aikoina, my\u00f6h\u00e4\u00e4n ja varhain, min\u00e4 olen\nteid\u00e4n k\u00e4skett\u00e4v\u00e4n\u00e4nne ja tahdon el\u00e4\u00e4 niin kurjaa el\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4 kuin koskaan\nkenk\u00e4\u00e4n kuningatar tai lady on el\u00e4nyt.\"\n\"Oi rouva\", huusi Tristram herra, syd\u00e4n surun ja s\u00e4\u00e4lin repelem\u00e4n\u00e4,\n\"j\u00e4tt\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4 minut, min\u00e4 pyyd\u00e4n, sill\u00e4 paljon tuskaa ja vaaroja min\u00e4\nolen k\u00e4rsinyt teid\u00e4n t\u00e4htenne.\"\nSilloin kuningatar l\u00e4hti, mutta pieni koira ei tahtonut j\u00e4tt\u00e4\u00e4\nTristram herraa.\n\"Lancelot herran t\u00e4hden!\"\nHeti Iseult kuningattaren l\u00e4hdetty\u00e4 tuli Mark kuningas, ja pieni\nkoira hy\u00f6kk\u00e4si h\u00e4nen kimppuunsa ja haukkui heit\u00e4 kaikkia. \"Herra,\nt\u00e4m\u00e4 mies on Tristram herra, min\u00e4 n\u00e4en sen koirasta\", virkkoi Andred\nherra.\n\"Eip\u00e4 suinkaan\", kuningas sanoi, \"sit\u00e4 ei saata uskoa\", ja h\u00e4n pyysi\nTristramin totuudenmukaisesti sanomaan kuka h\u00e4n oli ja mik\u00e4 oli h\u00e4nen\nnimens\u00e4.\n\"Totisesti\", ritari sanoi, \"minun nimeni on Lyonessen Tristram, ja\ntehk\u00e4\u00e4 nyt minulle mit\u00e4 haluatte.\"\n\"Ah\", Mark kuningas sanoi, \"olen pahoillani, ett\u00e4 olette joutunut\nk\u00e4siini.\" Ja h\u00e4n kutsui parooninsa kokoon tuomitakseen h\u00e4net\nkuolemaan.\nMutta monet paroonit eiv\u00e4t tahtoneet suostua siihen, ja niin kaikkien\nheid\u00e4n neuvostaan Tristram herra karkoitettiin maasta kymmeneksi\nvuodeksi. Siten h\u00e4net pakoitettiin l\u00e4htem\u00e4\u00e4n Cornwallista, ja useat\nparoonit astuivat h\u00e4nen kanssaan h\u00e4nen laivaansa, ja niist\u00e4 olivat\ntoiset h\u00e4nen yst\u00e4vi\u00e4ns\u00e4 ja toiset h\u00e4nen vihollisiansa.\nSill\u00e4 v\u00e4lin tuli muuan Arthur kuninkaan ritari, jonka nimi oli\nDinadan, ja h\u00e4nen tulonsa tarkoituksena oli hakea Tristram herraa.\nSilloin h\u00e4nelle n\u00e4ytettiin, miss\u00e4 Tristram herra hampaisiin asti\nvarustettuna seisoi, valmiina l\u00e4htem\u00e4\u00e4n laivallansa.\n\"Kuulkaapa, uljas ritari\", Dinadan sanoi, \"ennenkuin l\u00e4hdette t\u00e4st\u00e4\nhovista, vaadin teit\u00e4 tjostaamaan kanssani.\"\n\"Varsin mielell\u00e4ni\", Tristram sanoi, \"jos n\u00e4m\u00e4 herrat antavat minulle\nluvan.\"\nParoonit suostuivat siihen, ja niin molemmat ritarit hy\u00f6kk\u00e4siv\u00e4t\ntoisiansa vastaan, ja Tristram herra paiskasi Dinadan herran maahan.\nSilloin Dinadan pyysi lupaa saada tulla h\u00e4nen kanssaan.\n\"Te olette sangen tervetullut\", Tristram herra sanoi. Niin he ottivat\nratsunsa ja ratsastivat yhdess\u00e4 laivoillensa.\nKun Tristram herra oli laivalla, niin h\u00e4n k\u00e4\u00e4ntyi ja puhui\nparooneille, jotka olivat tulleet h\u00e4nt\u00e4 saattamaan.\n\"Tervehtik\u00e4\u00e4 Mark kuningasta ja kaikkia minun vihamiehi\u00e4ni\", h\u00e4n\nsanoi, \"ja sanokaa heille ett\u00e4 min\u00e4 tulen takaisin kun vain voin. Ja\nhyvin minua on palkittu siit\u00e4, ett\u00e4 taistelin Marhaus herran kanssa\nja vapautin kaiken t\u00e4m\u00e4n maan orjuudesta, ja hyvin minua on palkittu\nsiit\u00e4, ett\u00e4 noudin Kauniin Iseultin Irlannista ja kestin vaaroja\nkaiken aikaa ja ett\u00e4 kotimatkalla pelastin Iseult kuningattaren\nItkujen linnasta! Ja hyvin minua on palkittu siit\u00e4, ett\u00e4 taistelin\nBlamor herran kanssa Anguist kuninkaan, Kauniin Iseultin is\u00e4n\npuolesta. Ja hyvin minua on palkittu siit\u00e4, ett\u00e4 Mark kuninkaan\npyynn\u00f6st\u00e4 paiskasin maahan tuon jalon ritarin Walesin Lamorak herran!\nJa hyvin minua on palkittu siit\u00e4, ett\u00e4 taistelin Sadan ritarin\nkuningasta ja Pohjois-Walesin kuningasta vastaan, jotka tahtoivat\nmolemmat ottaa h\u00e4nen maansa orjuuteen, ja saatoin heid\u00e4t kuritukseen!\nJa hyvin minua on palkittu siit\u00e4, ett\u00e4 surmasin tuon mahtavan Tauleas\nj\u00e4ttil\u00e4isen! Ja monta muuta tekoa min\u00e4 olen tehnyt h\u00e4nen hyv\u00e4ksens\u00e4,\nja nyt olen saanut palkkani! -- Sanokaa Mark kuninkaalle, ett\u00e4 monet\njalot Py\u00f6re\u00e4n p\u00f6yd\u00e4n ritarit ovat s\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4neet t\u00e4m\u00e4n maan parooneita\nminun vuokseni. Hyvinh\u00e4n minua on palkittu siit\u00e4kin, kun taistelin\nuljaan Palamides ritarin kanssa ja pelastin Iseult kuningattaren\nh\u00e4nen k\u00e4sist\u00e4ns\u00e4? Ja silloin Mark kuningas sanoi kaikkien paroonien\nedess\u00e4, ett\u00e4 minun olisi pit\u00e4nyt saada parempi palkka.\"\nJa heti sen sanottuaan Tristram herra l\u00e4hti purjehtimaan merelle.\nEnsi kertaa senj\u00e4lkeen maihin laskiessaan Tristram herra ja Dinadan\nkohtasivat l\u00e4hell\u00e4 meren rantaa kaksi ritaria, Marisin Ector herran\nja Ganisin Bors herran, jotka vaativat heit\u00e4 voimien koetteluun.\nEctor herra tjostasi Dinadan herran kanssa ja sy\u00f6ksi h\u00e4net ja h\u00e4nen\nratsunsa maahan, ja Tristram herra olisi tahtonut tjostata Bors\nherran kanssa, mutta Bors herra sanoi, ettei h\u00e4n tahtonut tjostata\nkenenk\u00e4\u00e4n cornilais-ritarin kanssa, sill\u00e4 niit\u00e4 ei pidetty kunnian\nmiehin\u00e4.\nJuuri silloin saapui paikalle kaksi muuta ritaria, joista toinen,\nBleoberin herra, tarjoutui tjostaamaan Tristram herran kanssa, joka\nensi iskulla ty\u00f6nsi h\u00e4net maahan niinkuin ei mit\u00e4\u00e4n.\nSilloin sanoi Ganisin Bors herra: \"Enp\u00e4 ole koskaan n\u00e4hnyt ket\u00e4\u00e4n\nCornilais-ritaria, niin miehuullista ja uljasta, kuin tuo ritari,\njoka kantaa kruunuilla kirjailtuja koristuksia.\"\nSen j\u00e4lkeen Tristram herra ja Dinadan herra j\u00e4ttiv\u00e4t heid\u00e4t ja\nratsastivat mets\u00e4\u00e4n, ja siell\u00e4 kohtasi heid\u00e4t muuan neiti, joka oli\nLancelot herran vuoksi tullut hakemaan joitakuita jaloja Arthur\nkuninkaan hovin ritareita pelastamaan Lancelot herraa. Sill\u00e4\nkuningatar Morgan le Fay, tuo ilke\u00e4 velho, oli p\u00e4\u00e4tt\u00e4nyt petoksella\nsurmata Lancelot herran ja sit\u00e4 varten h\u00e4n asetti kolmekymment\u00e4\nritaria h\u00e4nt\u00e4 v\u00e4ijym\u00e4\u00e4n. T\u00e4m\u00e4 neiti tiesi tuosta petoksesta ja siit\u00e4\nsyyst\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli tullut hakemaan joitakuita jaloja ritareita Lancelot\nherran avuksi. Sill\u00e4 sin\u00e4 iltana taikka seuraavana p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 Lancelot\nherran piti tulla sinne, miss\u00e4 nuo kolmekymment\u00e4 ritaria olivat\nv\u00e4ijym\u00e4ss\u00e4.\nNeiti kohtasi ensiksi Bors herran, Bleoberis herran, Ector herran\nja Driant herran, ja h\u00e4n kertoi heille kaikille nelj\u00e4lle Morgan le\nFayn petoksesta. He lupasivat h\u00e4nelle, ett\u00e4 he olisivat l\u00e4hettyvill\u00e4,\nkun Lancelot herra kohtaisi nuo kolmekymment\u00e4 ritaria, ja jos niin\nk\u00e4visi, ett\u00e4 n\u00e4m\u00e4 hy\u00f6kk\u00e4isiv\u00e4t h\u00e4nen p\u00e4\u00e4llens\u00e4, niin he auttaisivat\nh\u00e4nt\u00e4 niin hyvin kuin voisivat. J\u00e4tetty\u00e4\u00e4n nuo nelj\u00e4 ritaria, neiti\nsitten sattumalta tapasi Tristram herran ja Dinadan herran ja n\u00e4ille\nh\u00e4n my\u00f6s puhui siit\u00e4 petoksesta, mit\u00e4 oli suunniteltu Lancelot herraa\nvastaan.\n\"Jalo neiti\", Tristram herra virkkoi, \"viek\u00e4\u00e4 minut sille paikalle,\nmiss\u00e4 he odottavat tapaavansa Lancelot herran.\"\n\"Mit\u00e4 aiotte tehd\u00e4?\" Dinadan herra sanoi. \"Eih\u00e4n meid\u00e4n sovi\ntaistella kolmeakymment\u00e4 ritaria vastaan, ja tiet\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4, ett\u00e4 min\u00e4 en\naio niin tehd\u00e4. Pit\u00e4\u00e4 puoliansa yht\u00e4 ritaria, taikka kahta, kolmea\nvastaan on kylliksi, jos he ovat miehi\u00e4. Mutta ryhty\u00e4 vastarintaan\nviitt\u00e4toista ritaria vastaan, siihen en ikin\u00e4 rupea.\"\n\"Hyi h\u00e4vetk\u00e4\u00e4\", Tristram herra sanoi, \"tehk\u00e4\u00e4 vain teht\u00e4v\u00e4nne.\"\n\"En\", Dinadan sanoi, \"paitsi jos te lainaatte minulle kilpenne;\nsill\u00e4 te kannatte cornwallilaista kilpe\u00e4, ja sen pelkurimaisuuden\nt\u00e4hden, josta Cornwallin ritarit ovat mainittuja, teit\u00e4 tuota kilpe\u00e4\nkantaessanne aina v\u00e4ltet\u00e4\u00e4n.\"\n\"Ei, min\u00e4 en tahdo erota kilvest\u00e4ni h\u00e4nen t\u00e4htens\u00e4, joka sen minulle\nantoi\", Tristram sanoi. \"Mutta yhden asian min\u00e4 lupaan sinulle,\nDinadan herra, joll'et sin\u00e4 j\u00e4\u00e4 odottamaan minun kanssani, niin\nly\u00f6n sinut kuoliaaksi siihen paikkaan. Sill\u00e4 min\u00e4 en pyyd\u00e4 sinulta\nenemp\u00e4\u00e4, kuin ett\u00e4 sin\u00e4 vastustat yht\u00e4 ritaria, ja jollei sinun\nrohkeutesi anna sit\u00e4 my\u00f6den, niin seiso vieress\u00e4 ja katsele minua ja\nheit\u00e4.\"\n\"Herra\", sanoi Dinadan pelkuri, \"min\u00e4 lupaan teille, ett\u00e4 j\u00e4\u00e4n\nkatselemaan ja teen voitavani pelastaakseni itseni, mutta min\u00e4 toivon\netten olisi teit\u00e4 kohdannut.\"\nKohta senj\u00e4lkeen nuo kolmekymment\u00e4 ritaria l\u00e4hestyiv\u00e4t noita\nnelj\u00e4\u00e4 ritaria, ja he huomasivat kaikki toinen toisensa. Mutta nuo\nkolmekymment\u00e4 ritaria antoivat noiden nelj\u00e4n ritarin menn\u00e4, koska\nheid\u00e4n oli k\u00e4sketty ahdistaa vain Lancelot herraa; ja nuo nelj\u00e4\nritaria antoivat niiden kolmenkymmenen ritarin menn\u00e4, jotta n\u00e4kisiv\u00e4t\nmit\u00e4 he tekisiv\u00e4t Lancelot herralle.\nNiin nuo kolmekymment\u00e4 ritaria ratsastivat ohi ja tulivat Tristram\nherran ja Dinadan herran luo. Ja kun he l\u00e4hestyiv\u00e4t, niin Tristram\nherra huusi korkealla \u00e4\u00e4nell\u00e4:\n\"Kas t\u00e4ss\u00e4 on ritari teit\u00e4 vastassa Lancelot herran puolesta!\"\nJa siin\u00e4 paikassa h\u00e4n kaatoi kaksi ritaria yhdell\u00e4 peitsell\u00e4 ja\nkymmenen miekallansa; ja silloin Dinadan rohkaisi mielens\u00e4 ja rynt\u00e4si\ntaistelun tuoksinaan ja teki teht\u00e4v\u00e4ns\u00e4 eritt\u00e4in hyvin.\nNiin noista kolmestakymmenest\u00e4 ritarista p\u00e4\u00e4si vain kymmenen pois, ja\nne pakenivat.\nGanisin Bors herra ja h\u00e4nen kolme kumppaniansa katselivat t\u00e4t\u00e4\nottelua, ja he n\u00e4kiv\u00e4t kyll\u00e4 ett\u00e4 se oli sama ritari, joka oli\ntjostannut heid\u00e4n kanssaan meren rannalla. Silloin he ottivat\nratsunsa ja ratsastivat Tristram herra luo ja ylistiv\u00e4t h\u00e4nt\u00e4 ja\nkiittiv\u00e4t h\u00e4nt\u00e4 niiden hyvien tekojen t\u00e4hden, joita h\u00e4n oli tehnyt.\nJa he pyysiv\u00e4t kaikki Tristram herraa tulemaan heid\u00e4n kerallaan\nheid\u00e4n majapaikkaansa.\nMutta Tristram sanoi 'ei', h\u00e4n ei tahtonut tulla mihink\u00e4\u00e4n\nmajapaikkaan.\nSilloin kaikki nuo nelj\u00e4 ritaria pyysiv\u00e4t Tristramia ilmoittamaan\nheille nimens\u00e4.\n\"Jalot herrat\", Tristram sanoi, \"t\u00e4ll\u00e4 hetkell\u00e4 en tahdo teille\nnime\u00e4ni sanoa.\"\nMorgan le Fayn kavala petos.\nTristram herra ja Dinadan herra jatkoivat matkaansa, ja kulkiessaan\nheill\u00e4 oli monta seikkailua. Mutta Dinadan valitteli kaiken aikaa,\nett\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli joutunut Tristram herran seuraan. Sill\u00e4 jokainen ritari,\njonka he kohtasivat, tahtoi tjostata heid\u00e4n kanssaan, eik\u00e4 Dinadan\nherra pit\u00e4nyt niin paljosta taistelemisesta, ja sit\u00e4paitsi h\u00e4n\nsuistui monta kertaa maahan.\n\"Te k\u00e4ytt\u00e4ydytte kuin hullu\", h\u00e4n sanoi Tristram herralle, \"ja\nkuin mies, joka on menett\u00e4nyt j\u00e4rkens\u00e4 ja tahtoo sy\u00f6st\u00e4 itsens\u00e4\nperikatoon. Min\u00e4 kiroan sit\u00e4 hetke\u00e4, jolloin teid\u00e4t tapasin. Sill\u00e4\nkoko maailmassa ei ole kahta ritaria, jotka olisivat niin hurjia\nkuin Lancelot herra ja te. Sill\u00e4 kerran min\u00e4 jouduin Lancelot herran\nseuraan, niinkuin nyt olen joutunut teid\u00e4n seuraanne, ja h\u00e4n pani\nminut sellaiseen ty\u00f6h\u00f6n, ett\u00e4 nelj\u00e4nneksen vuotta olin senj\u00e4lkeen\nvuoteessa. Varjelkoon minua kahdesta sellaisesta ritarista ja\nvarsinkin _teid\u00e4n_ seurastanne!\"\nHe saivat asunnon siksi y\u00f6t\u00e4 er\u00e4\u00e4n kunnon miehen luona muutamassa\nluostarissa, jossa heit\u00e4 kohdeltiin hyvin. Aamulla Tristram herra\ntaas l\u00e4hti ja j\u00e4tti Dinadan herran luostariin, sill\u00e4 t\u00e4m\u00e4 j\u00e4lkim\u00e4inen\noli niin v\u00e4synyt ja niin kovin kolhittu, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n ei saattanut\nratsastaa. Seuraavana p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 Tristram herra tapasi airueita,\njotka ilmoittivat h\u00e4nelle, ett\u00e4 oli julistettu pidett\u00e4v\u00e4ksi suuret\nturnajaiset Skotlannin kuninkaan Caradosin ja Pohjois-Walesin\nkuninkaan v\u00e4lill\u00e4 ja ett\u00e4 heid\u00e4n piti tjostata toinen toisensa kanssa\nNeitojen linnalla. N\u00e4m\u00e4 airueet olivat etsiskelem\u00e4ss\u00e4 ymp\u00e4ri maata\nhyvi\u00e4 ritareita, ja varsinkin Carados kuningas haki Lancelot herraa\nja Pohjois-Walesin kuningas haki Lyonessen Tristramia.\nNiin Tristram herra p\u00e4\u00e4tti menn\u00e4 niihin turnajaisiin.\nSamana p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 h\u00e4n tapasi er\u00e4\u00e4n neidon, joka kertoi h\u00e4nelle, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n\nvoittaisi suurta mainetta, jos h\u00e4n surmaisi er\u00e4\u00e4n seikkailijaritarin,\njoka teki paljon pahaa siin\u00e4 maassa. Kun Tristram herra kuuli neidon\nniin puhuvan, niin h\u00e4n l\u00e4hti iloisena h\u00e4nen mukaansa. He olivat\nratsastaneet noin kuusi penikulmaa, kun Gawaine herra kohtasi\nheid\u00e4t. T\u00e4m\u00e4 tunsi heti tuon neidon yhdeksi ilke\u00e4n Morgan le Fayn\nhovineidoksi.\n\"Jalo ritari\", Gawaine herra sanoi, \"minne te ratsastatte t\u00e4m\u00e4n\nneidon keralla?\"\n\"Herra\", Tristram sanoi, \"min\u00e4 en tied\u00e4, minne minun tulee ratsastaa,\nt\u00e4m\u00e4 neito ohjaa minua.\"\n\"Herra\", Gawaine sanoi, \"\u00e4lk\u00e4\u00e4 ratsastako h\u00e4nen kanssansa, sill\u00e4 h\u00e4n\nja h\u00e4nen valtiattarensa eiv\u00e4t koskaan ole tehneet hyv\u00e4\u00e4, pahaa vain.\"\nSitten h\u00e4n paljasti miekkansa ja sanoi: \"Neito, jollet sin\u00e4 minulle\nheti ilmoita, mist\u00e4 syyst\u00e4 sin\u00e4 kuljetat t\u00e4t\u00e4 ritaria mukanasi, niin\nmin\u00e4 surmaan sinut siihen paikkaan. Min\u00e4 tunnen kyll\u00e4 kaikki sinun ja\nvaltiattaresi kavalat juonet ja metkut.\"\n\"Armoa, Gawaine herra!\" neito huusi, \"jos s\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4tte minun henkeni,\nniin kerron teille kaikki.\"\n\"Anna kuulua, niin saat pit\u00e4\u00e4 henkesi\", Gawaine virkkoi.\n\"Herra, kuningatar Morgan le Fay, minun valtiattareni, on k\u00e4skenyt\nkolmekymment\u00e4 neitoa hakemaan ja v\u00e4ijym\u00e4\u00e4n Lancelot herraa tai\nTristram herraa, ja sen, joka ensiksi tapaa jommankumman n\u00e4ist\u00e4\nritareista, tulee k\u00e4\u00e4nt\u00e4\u00e4 heid\u00e4t Morgan le Fayn linnaa kohden\nja sanoa ett\u00e4 heill\u00e4 on siell\u00e4 urhotekoja teht\u00e4v\u00e4n\u00e4. Ja jos\njompikumpi noista molemmista ritareista tulee sinne, niin siell\u00e4 on\nkolmekymment\u00e4 ritaria v\u00e4ijym\u00e4ss\u00e4 er\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4 tornissa ja odottamassa\nLancelot herraa tai Tristram herraa.\"\n\"Hyi h\u00e4pe\u00e4\", Gawaine herra sanoi, \"ett\u00e4 tuollaista kavalaa petosta\ntekee ja harjoittaa kuningatar, kuninkaan sisar ja kuninkaan ja\nkuningattaren tyt\u00e4r.\"\nSilloin Gawaine herra ja Tristram herra p\u00e4\u00e4ttiv\u00e4t ratsastaa sinne\nlinnalle, jossa Morgan le Fay oli, ja uhmata noiden kolmenkymmenen\nritarin ilkeytt\u00e4. Ja Gawaine herra ajatteli ajattelemistaan,\nett\u00e4 h\u00e4nen kumppaninsa varmaankin oli Lyonessen Tristram, sill\u00e4\nh\u00e4n oli kuullut kerrottavan, kuinka kaksi ritaria oli taistellut\nkolmeakymment\u00e4 ritaria vastaan ja voittanut ne.\nKun he tulivat linnan edustalle, niin Gawaine herra huusi korkealla\n\u00e4\u00e4nell\u00e4:\n\"Kuningatar Morgan le Fay, l\u00e4hett\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4 ulos ne ritarinne, jotka olette\npannut v\u00e4ijym\u00e4\u00e4n Lancelot herraa ja Tristram herraa! Min\u00e4 tied\u00e4n ja\ntunnen teid\u00e4n kavalat aikeenne, ja kaikkialla miss\u00e4 kuljen, olen\nkertova teid\u00e4n petollisuudestanne. Ja kuulkaapa, te kolmekymment\u00e4\nritaria, n\u00e4ytt\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4 Gawaine herralle, uskallatteko tulla ulos\nlinnastanne!\"\nSilloin kuningatar ja nuo kolmekymment\u00e4 ritaria puhuivat ja sanoivat:\n\"Sinun on hyv\u00e4 puhua, Gawaine herra. Mutta me tied\u00e4mme kyll\u00e4, miksi\nuskallat olla niin kopea. Sill\u00e4 monet meist\u00e4 tuntevat hyvin sen\nritarin, joka on sinun seurassasi, ja tied\u00e4, Gawaine herra, ett\u00e4\nenemm\u00e4n h\u00e4nen t\u00e4htens\u00e4 kuin sinun, me olemme tulematta ulos t\u00e4st\u00e4\nlinnasta. Sen ritarin, joka kantaa cornwallilaisia aseita, me kyll\u00e4\ntunnemme ja mit\u00e4 h\u00e4n on miehi\u00e4\u00e4n.\"\nKun Gawaine herra ja Tristram herra n\u00e4kiv\u00e4t, ett\u00e4 Morgan le Fay\nja h\u00e4nen ritarinsa olivat liiaksi pelkureita uskaltaakseen tulla\nrehelliseen otteluun, niin he l\u00e4htiv\u00e4t linnalta ja matkasivat\nedelleen p\u00e4iv\u00e4n pari yhdess\u00e4.\nHe eiv\u00e4t olleet viel\u00e4 ratsastaneet kauaksi, kun he n\u00e4kiv\u00e4t er\u00e4\u00e4n\njulman ritarin ajavan takaa muuatta naista surmatakseen h\u00e4net, sill\u00e4\nh\u00e4n oli jo surmannut naisen seuralaisen. Tuota ritaria kutsuttiin\nnimell\u00e4 \"Herra Breuse S\u00e4\u00e4lim\u00e4t\u00f6n.\"\n\"Pysyk\u00e4\u00e4 hiljaa\", Gawaine herra sanoi, \"\u00e4lk\u00e4\u00e4k\u00e4 hiiskuko mit\u00e4\u00e4n, niin\nsaatte n\u00e4hd\u00e4 ett\u00e4 min\u00e4 maksan tuolle katalalle ritarille. Sill\u00e4 jos\nh\u00e4n huomaa teid\u00e4t, niin h\u00e4nell\u00e4 on niin hyv\u00e4 ratsu, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n p\u00e4\u00e4see\npakoon.\"\nSitten Gawaine herra ajaa karautti Breuse herran ja tuon naisen\nv\u00e4liin ja huusi: \"Katala ritari, j\u00e4t\u00e4 se nainen rauhaan ja tule\ntekem\u00e4\u00e4n tuttavuutta minun kanssani!\"\nKun Breuse herra ei n\u00e4hnyt muuta kuin Gawaine herran, niin h\u00e4n\nkohotti peitsens\u00e4 ja Gawaine herra teki samoin, ja silloin Breuse\nherra ty\u00f6nsi Gawaine herran satulasta. Ja Gawaine herran maatessa\nmaassa, Breuse herra ratsasti monta kertaa h\u00e4nen ylitsens\u00e4. Mutta kun\nTristram herra n\u00e4ki h\u00e4nen halpamaisen menettelyns\u00e4, niin h\u00e4n karkasi\nBreuse herran kimppuun.\nHeti kuin Breuse herra n\u00e4ki cornwallilaisen kilven, niin h\u00e4n arvasi,\nett\u00e4 h\u00e4nen ahdistajansa oli Tristram herra, ja h\u00e4n l\u00e4hti pakoon mink\u00e4\nkerkesi ja Tristram herra h\u00e4nen per\u00e4ss\u00e4\u00e4n. Breuse herralla oli niin\nhyv\u00e4 ratsu ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n p\u00e4\u00e4si pakoon, mutta Tristram ajoi h\u00e4nt\u00e4 takaa\nison aikaa, sill\u00e4 h\u00e4n olisi sangen halusta tahtonut kostaa h\u00e4nelle.\nAjettuaan h\u00e4nt\u00e4 takaa jonkun matkaa, Tristram herra n\u00e4ki kauniin\nl\u00e4hteen ja sinne h\u00e4n ratsasti huokaamaan. H\u00e4n hypp\u00e4si satulasta ja\nsitoi ratsunsa puuhun, ja sitten h\u00e4n otti pois kyp\u00e4rins\u00e4 ja pesi\nkasvonsa ja k\u00e4tens\u00e4, ja vaipui kohta uneen.\nSill\u00e4 aikaa tuli muuan neito, joka oli hakenut Tristram herraa monta\np\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4 ja monelta suunnalta. Kun h\u00e4n tuli l\u00e4hteelle, niin h\u00e4n katsoi\ntuota nukkuvaa ritaria, mutta h\u00e4n ei olisi tuntenut h\u00e4nt\u00e4 Tristram\nherraksi, jollei h\u00e4n olisi n\u00e4hnyt h\u00e4nen ratsuaan \"Passe-Brewelia.\"\nSiit\u00e4 h\u00e4n tunsi h\u00e4net; sill\u00e4 kun Tristram herra oli hulluna mets\u00e4ss\u00e4,\nniin Fergus herra, muuan Mark kuninkaan hoviin kuuluva ritari, piti\nhuolta h\u00e4nen ratsustaan, ja siell\u00e4 t\u00e4m\u00e4 lady, joka ei ollut kukaan\nmuu kuin Bragwaine neito, oli usein n\u00e4hnyt sen.\nBragwaine neito odotti hiljaa, kunnes Tristram her\u00e4si ja sitten h\u00e4n\ntervehti Tristramia ja Tristram h\u00e4nt\u00e4 takaisin, sill\u00e4 he olivat\nvanhastaan tuttavia. Bragwaine kertoi Tristram herralle, kuinka h\u00e4n\noli hakenut h\u00e4nt\u00e4 l\u00e4helt\u00e4 ja kaukaa ja kuinka h\u00e4nell\u00e4 oli kirjeit\u00e4\nCornwallin kuningattarelta Iseultilta. Tristram luki ne heti ja\nsuuresti h\u00e4n iloitsi ett\u00e4 oli saanut ne.\n\"Bragwaine neito\", h\u00e4n sitten sanoi, \"te saatte ratsastaa minun\nkanssani, kunnes Neitojen linnalla pidett\u00e4v\u00e4t turnajaiset ovat ohi;\nja sitten te saatte vied\u00e4 kirjeit\u00e4 ja terveisi\u00e4 takaisin Iseult\nkuningattarelle.\"\nNeitojen linnalla.\nNoiden suurten turnajaisten ensim\u00e4isen\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 Tristram herra\nkunnosti niin itse\u00e4ns\u00e4 ja voitti niin monta ritaria, ett\u00e4 Arthur\nkuningas ja kaikki kuninkaat ja lordit, jotka olivat tuomareina,\nantoivat h\u00e4nelle palkinnon, vaikka eiv\u00e4t tunteneetkaan h\u00e4nt\u00e4, vaan\nnimittiv\u00e4t h\u00e4nt\u00e4 \"Mustan kilven ritariksi.\"\nAamulla Palamides herra, joka oli taistellut Pohjois-Walesin\nkuninkaan puolella, j\u00e4tti h\u00e4net ja ratsasti Arthur kuninkaan\npuolelle, jossa oli Carados kuningas ja Irlannin kuningas ja Lancelot\nherran ja Gawaine herran sukulaiset. Ja paremmin salatakseen itse\u00e4\u00e4n,\nLancelot herra ja kaksi nelj\u00e4tt\u00e4 h\u00e4nen heimolaisritariaan olivat\nottaneet cornwallilaiskilvet. Palamides herra l\u00e4hetti er\u00e4\u00e4n neidon\nsanansaattajana Tristram herran luo kysym\u00e4\u00e4n, kuka h\u00e4n oli ja mik\u00e4\noli h\u00e4nen nimens\u00e4.\n\"Sen asian suhteen\", Tristram herra sanoi, \"saatte ilmoittaa\nPalamides herralle, ett\u00e4 t\u00e4ll\u00e4 hetkell\u00e4 h\u00e4n ei saa sit\u00e4 tiet\u00e4\u00e4, eik\u00e4\nennenkuin min\u00e4 olen katkaissut h\u00e4neen kaksi keih\u00e4st\u00e4. Mutta sanokaa\nh\u00e4nelle suoraan, ett\u00e4 olkoon h\u00e4n puolella mill\u00e4 hyv\u00e4ns\u00e4, niin min\u00e4\nolen aina vastakkaisella puolella.\"\n\"Herra\", neito sanoi, \"teid\u00e4n tulee tiet\u00e4\u00e4, ett\u00e4 Palamides herra on\nArthur kuninkaan puolella, miss\u00e4 kaikki maailman jaloimmat ritarit\novat.\"\n\"Silloin min\u00e4 tahdon olla Pohjois-Walesin kuninkaan puolella\",\nTristram herra sanoi, \"koska Palamides herra on Arthur kuninkaan\npuolella; muuten en niin tekisi kuin h\u00e4nen t\u00e4htens\u00e4.\"\nKun Arthur kuningas saapui, niin torvensoittajat puhalsivat\nturnajaiset alkaneiksi, ja silloin nousi ankara ottelu. Carados\nkuningas tjostasi Pohjois-Walesin kuninkaan kanssa ja suistui\ntantereeseen, ja sen j\u00e4lkeen heti joukko toisia Arthur kuninkaan\nritareita sy\u00f6ksyi taisteluun ja l\u00f6i takaisin Pohjois-Walesin\nkuninkaan ritarit. Silloin Tristram herra karautti kent\u00e4lle ja alkoi\ntaistella niin \u00e4\u00e4rett\u00f6m\u00e4ll\u00e4 vimmalla, ettei kukaan voinut h\u00e4nt\u00e4\nvastustaa, ja sill\u00e4 tapaa h\u00e4n taisteli ison aikaa. Mutta viimein\nTristram joutui keskelle Ban kuninkaan joukkoa, ja h\u00e4nt\u00e4 alkoi\nahdistaa Bors herra, Blamor herra ja Ector herra ja moni muu ritari.\nTristram herra iski oikealle ja iski vasemmalle, niin ett\u00e4 lordit\nja ladyt puhuivat h\u00e4nen urhoteoistaan. Mutta lopulta h\u00e4nen olisi\nk\u00e4ynyt huonosti, jollei \"Sadan ritarin\" kuningas olisi saapunut\nseuralaisineen ja pelastanut Tristram herran ja vienyt h\u00e4net pois\nniiden ritarien keskelt\u00e4, jotka kantoivat Cornwallin kilpi\u00e4.\nSenj\u00e4lkeen Tristram herra n\u00e4ki toisen joukon, noin nelj\u00e4nkymmenen\nritarin suuruisen, ja Kay herra, Arthur kuninkaan hovimestari, oli\nniiden johtajana. Tristram herra karautti niit\u00e4 vastaan ja ty\u00f6nsi\nKay herran alas ratsun sel\u00e4st\u00e4, ja niin h\u00e4n temmelsi noiden ritarien\nkeskell\u00e4 kuin vinttikoira kaniiniparvessa.\nSill\u00e4v\u00e4lin Lancelot herra n\u00e4ki er\u00e4\u00e4n ritarin, joka oli saanut vaikean\nhaavan p\u00e4\u00e4h\u00e4ns\u00e4. H\u00e4n kysyi h\u00e4nelt\u00e4, kuka sen oli tehnyt.\n\"Herra\", ritari sanoi, \"sen teki er\u00e4s ritari, joka kantaa mustaa\nkilpe\u00e4. Kirottu olkoon se hetki, jolloin h\u00e4net kohtasin, sill\u00e4 h\u00e4n on\nitse piru, eik\u00e4 ihminen.\"\nLancelot herra j\u00e4tti h\u00e4net, ja toivoen tapaavansa Tristram herran h\u00e4n\nratsasti pitkin kentt\u00e4\u00e4 hakien h\u00e4nt\u00e4 miekka paljastettuna k\u00e4dess\u00e4\u00e4n;\nviimein h\u00e4n huomasikin h\u00e4net, ja n\u00e4ki kuinka h\u00e4n rynt\u00e4si sinne ja\nt\u00e4nne, ja melkein jokaisella iskulla Tristram herra ty\u00f6nsi ritarin\nmaahan.\n\"Oh armahtakaa\", sanoi Arthur kuningas, \"siit\u00e4 asti kuin kannan\naseita, en ole viel\u00e4 ikin\u00e4 n\u00e4hnyt kenenk\u00e4\u00e4n ritarin tuollaisia\nihmetelt\u00e4vi\u00e4 tekoja tekev\u00e4n.\"\n\"Ja jos min\u00e4 rynt\u00e4isin tuon ritarin kimppuun\", Lancelot herra sanoi\nitsekseen, \"niin min\u00e4 saattaisin itseni h\u00e4pe\u00e4\u00e4n.\" Ja niin sanoen h\u00e4n\npisti miekkansa tuppeen.\n\"Sadan ritarin\" kuningas joukkoineen ja viel\u00e4 sata Pohjois-Walesin\nmiest\u00e4 hy\u00f6kk\u00e4si nyt niiden kahdenkymmenen ritarin kimppuun, jotka\nolivat Lancelot herran heimoa, ja nuo kaksikymment\u00e4 ritaria pysyiv\u00e4t\nkoko ajan yhdess\u00e4 eik\u00e4 kukaan tahtonut j\u00e4tt\u00e4\u00e4 toista vaaralle\nalttiiksi. Kun Tristram herra n\u00e4ki noiden kahdenkymmenen ritarin\njalouden, niin h\u00e4n ihmetteli heid\u00e4n uljuuttaan, sill\u00e4 h\u00e4n n\u00e4ki heid\u00e4n\nolennostaan ja k\u00e4yt\u00f6ksest\u00e4\u00e4n, ett\u00e4 he ennemmin kaatuisivat viimeiseen\nmieheen, kuin per\u00e4ytyisiv\u00e4t taistelusta.\n\"Mahtaapa se olla uljas ja t\u00e4ynn\u00e4 miehuullisuutta, jolla on noin\njaloja ritareita sukulaisinaan\", Tristram herra sanoi, \"ja varmaankin\non se jalo mies, joka on heid\u00e4n johtajansa ja p\u00e4\u00e4miehens\u00e4!\" T\u00e4ll\u00e4 h\u00e4n\ntarkoitti J\u00e4rven Lancelotia.\nKun Tristram herra oli katsellut heit\u00e4 pitk\u00e4n aikaa, niin h\u00e4nen\nmielest\u00e4\u00e4n oli suuri h\u00e4pe\u00e4 ett\u00e4 kaksi sataa ritaria hakkasi\nkahtakymment\u00e4, ja niin h\u00e4n ratsasti Pohjois-Walesin kuninkaan luo ja\nsanoi:\n\"Herra, lakatkaa taistelemasta noita kahtakymment\u00e4 ritaria vastaan,\nsill\u00e4 te ette sill\u00e4 suinkaan voita mainetta, teit\u00e4 kun on niin\nmonta ja heit\u00e4 niin v\u00e4h\u00e4n. Ja tiet\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4, ett\u00e4 he eiv\u00e4t per\u00e4ydy\ntaistelutantereelta, sen min\u00e4 n\u00e4en heid\u00e4n k\u00e4yt\u00f6ksest\u00e4\u00e4n; ettek\u00e4\nte kunniaa suinkaan sill\u00e4 saavuta, jos heid\u00e4t surmaatte. Lakatkaa\nsenvuoksi taistelemasta heit\u00e4 vastaan, taikka kunniani vaatii minua\nratsastamaan noiden kahdenkymmenen ritarin joukkoon ja auttamaan\nheit\u00e4 kaikella voimallani ja v\u00e4ell\u00e4ni.\"\n\"Ei\", Pohjois-Walesin kuningas sanoi, \"\u00e4lk\u00e4\u00e4 niin tehk\u00f6. Kun nyt n\u00e4en\nkuinka rohkea ja ritarillinen te olette, niin teid\u00e4n mieliksenne\ntahdon kutsua pois ritarini, sill\u00e4 kunnon ritari tahtoo aina tehd\u00e4\ntoisen mielen mukaan, ja niin mets\u00e4 vastaa kuin sinne huudetaan.\"\nSitten Pohjois-Walesin kuningas kutsui pois ritarinsa. Koko t\u00e4m\u00e4n\najan ja jo kauan ennenkin Lancelot herra oli pit\u00e4nyt silm\u00e4ll\u00e4\nTristram herraa siin\u00e4 tarkoituksessa, ett\u00e4 olisi saanut h\u00e4nest\u00e4\nseuraa. Mutta \u00e4kki\u00e4 Tristram herra, Dinadan herra ja Gouvernail,\nh\u00e4nen asemiehens\u00e4, ajaa karauttivat mets\u00e4\u00e4n, niin ettei yksik\u00e4\u00e4n\nhuomannut minne he joutuivat.\nSitten Arthur kuningas puhalsi taistelun lakanneeksi ja antoi\npalkinnon Pohjois-Walesin kuninkaalle, koska Tristram herra oli\nollut h\u00e4nen puolellansa. Lancelot herra ratsasti pitkin kentt\u00e4\u00e4\nkuin kiljuva jalopeura, koska h\u00e4n oli joutunut pois Tristram herran\nj\u00e4ljilt\u00e4, mutta h\u00e4nen oli palattava ilman Tristramia Arthur kuninkaan\nluo. Silloin nousi kent\u00e4ll\u00e4 suuri huuto, niin ett\u00e4 my\u00f6t\u00e4tuuleen\nsaattoi kuulla kahden penikulman p\u00e4\u00e4h\u00e4n, kuinka lordit ja ladyt\nhuusivat:\n\"Mustan kilven ritari on voittanut taistelun!\"\n\"Voi\", Arthur kuningas sanoi, \"minne tuo ritari on joutunut? On\nh\u00e4pe\u00e4ksi kaikille taistelijoille, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4nen niin annettiin livahtaa\ntiehens\u00e4, sensijaan ett\u00e4 olisitte ritarillisesti ja kohteliaasti\ntuoneet h\u00e4net minun luokseni Neitojen linnaan.\"\nSitten tuo jalo Arthur kuningas meni ritariensa luo ja lohdutti heit\u00e4\nparhaiten mink\u00e4 taisi siit\u00e4 ett\u00e4 olivat joutuneet tappiolle sin\u00e4\np\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4. Monet olivat loukkaantuneet ja vaikeasti haavoittuneet,\nmutta monet olivat my\u00f6s haavoittumatta.\n\"Urheat ritarini\", kuningas sanoi, \"\u00e4lk\u00e4\u00e4 pel\u00e4styk\u00f6, vaikka\nmenetittekin t\u00e4n\u00e4\u00e4n taistelun. Katsokaa ett\u00e4 olette huomenna hyviss\u00e4\nvoimissa, sill\u00e4 min\u00e4 tahdon taistella teid\u00e4n kanssanne ja kostaa\nteid\u00e4n puolestanne vihollisillenne.\"\nTurnajaisten kolmas p\u00e4iv\u00e4.\nSitten seuraavana aamuna torvet kutsuivat kolmanneksi p\u00e4iv\u00e4ksi\nturnajaisiin.\nPohjois-Walesin kuningas ja \"Sadan ritarin\" kuningas taistelivat\nCarados kuninkaan ja Irlannin kuninkaan kanssa; ja \"Sadan ritarin\"\nkuningas sy\u00f6ksi maahan Carados kuninkaan ja Pohjois-Walesin kuningas\nsy\u00f6ksi maahan Irlannin kuninkaan. Palamides herra tuli silloin aika\nkyyti\u00e4 noiden kaatuneitten ritarien avuksi ja sai aikaan suurta\nh\u00e4iri\u00f6t\u00e4, sill\u00e4 h\u00e4net tunnettiin hyvin uurrereunaisesta kilvest\u00e4\u00e4n.\nSilloin Arthur kuningas yhtyi h\u00e4neen ja teki suuria asetekoja ja\npani Pohjois-Walesin kuninkaan ja \"Sadan ritarin\" kuninkaan aivan\nahtaalle. Mutta Tristram herra mustine kilpineen tuli n\u00e4iden avuksi\nja hy\u00f6kk\u00e4si \u00e4kki\u00e4 Palamides herraa vastaan ja sy\u00f6ksi voimallaan ja\ntaidollaan Palamides herran suin p\u00e4in maahan.\nSilloin Arthur kuningas huusi: \"Mustan kilven ritari, valmistaudu\ntaistelemaan minun kanssani!\" Ja samalla tapaa Tristram herra ty\u00f6nsi\nmaahan Arthur kuninkaankin.\nRitariensa avulla Arthur kuningas ja Palamides herra nousivat\ntaas ratsujensa selk\u00e4\u00e4n ja temmaten kiihke\u00e4sti keih\u00e4\u00e4n k\u00e4teens\u00e4\nkuningas sys\u00e4si Tristram herran sivulta p\u00e4in ratsun yli maahan.\nJa kiukkuisesti karkasi toiselta sivulta Palamides herra Tristram\nherraa kohden, aikoen ratsastaa h\u00e4nen ylitsens\u00e4, mutta Tristram herra\nhuomasi h\u00e4nen aikeensa ja hypp\u00e4si syrj\u00e4\u00e4n, ja vimmoissaan h\u00e4n tarttui\nPalamides herraa k\u00e4sivarteen ja veti h\u00e4net alas ratsun sel\u00e4st\u00e4.\nPalamides herra nousi ketter\u00e4sti pystyyn, ja he iskiv\u00e4t toisiansa\nkiukkuisesti miekoillaan, ja monta kuningasta, kuningatarta ja\nlordia seisoi heit\u00e4 katselemassa. Viimein Tristram herra l\u00f6i kolme\nvoimakasta iskua Palamides herran kyp\u00e4riin, ja joka kerta kuin h\u00e4n\niski h\u00e4n huusi: \"T\u00e4m\u00e4n saat Tristram herran puolesta!\" Silloin\nPalamides herra vaipui suin p\u00e4in maahan.\nSitten tuli \"Sadan ritarin\" kuningas ja toi Tristram herralle ratsun,\nja niin h\u00e4n nousi taas satulaan. Sitten h\u00e4n huomasi Arthur kuninkaan,\njoka piti paljastettua miekkaa k\u00e4dess\u00e4\u00e4n, ja keih\u00e4s sojossa Tristram\nherra sy\u00f6ksyi Arthur kuningasta kohden; mutta kuningas odotti h\u00e4nt\u00e4\nrohkeana ja ylv\u00e4\u00e4n\u00e4 ja l\u00f6i miekallaan keih\u00e4\u00e4n kahtia. Siit\u00e4 Tristram\nherra niin \u00e4llistyi, ett\u00e4 Arthur kuningas enn\u00e4tti antaa h\u00e4nelle kolme\nnelj\u00e4 aimo iskua ennenkuin h\u00e4n sai miekkansa esille, mutta viimein\nTristram herra sai vedetyksi miekkansa ja hy\u00f6kk\u00e4si kuningasta kohden\nja ahdisti h\u00e4nt\u00e4 ankarasti.\nMutta nyt tuo suuri ihmisjoukko eroitti heid\u00e4t. Silloin Tristram\nherra ratsasti edestakaisin ja taisteli sellaisella vimmalla,\nett\u00e4 yksitoista uljasta ritaria Ban kuninkaan suvusta, jotka\nolivat Lancelot herran heimoa, suistui sin\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 Tristram\nherran kaatamina tantereeseen. Ja kaikki kansa, kaiken s\u00e4\u00e4tyiset\nja arvoiset, ihmetteliv\u00e4t kovin h\u00e4nen suuria tekojansa ja kaikki\ntervehtiv\u00e4t huudoilla \"Mustan kilven ritaria\".\nMelu oli niin suuri, ett\u00e4 Lancelot herra kuuli sen, ja ottaen suuren\nkeih\u00e4\u00e4n k\u00e4teens\u00e4 h\u00e4n tuli huutoa kohden.\n\"Mustankilven ritari\", h\u00e4n huusi, \"valmistaudu tjostaamaan minun\nkanssani!\"\nKun Tristram herra kuuli h\u00e4nen huutonsa, niin h\u00e4n otti keih\u00e4\u00e4n\nk\u00e4teens\u00e4 ja molemmat painoivat p\u00e4\u00e4ns\u00e4 nojoon ja jys\u00e4htiv\u00e4t yhteen\nkuin ukkonen. Tristram herran keih\u00e4s katkesi kappaleiksi ja kovaksi\nonneksi Lancelot herra pisti Tristram herran kylkeen syv\u00e4n, melkein\ntappavan haavan. Mutta Tristram herra ei j\u00e4tt\u00e4nyt satulaansa, ja niin\nkeih\u00e4s katkesi; ja vaikka Tristram herra oli vaikeasti haavottunut,\nniin h\u00e4n sent\u00e4\u00e4n tempaisi miekkansa ja sy\u00f6ksyi Lancelot herraa\nvastaan ja antoi h\u00e4nelle kolme ankaraa iskua kyp\u00e4riin, niin ett\u00e4\nkipunoita lenteli ja Lancelot herra painoi p\u00e4\u00e4ns\u00e4 alas satulansa\nkaareen. Ja samalla Tristram herra l\u00e4hti pois taistelukent\u00e4lt\u00e4,\nsill\u00e4 h\u00e4n tunsi itsens\u00e4 niin vaikeasti haavoittuneeksi, ett\u00e4 luuli\nkuolevansa.\nDinadan herra n\u00e4ki h\u00e4nen menev\u00e4n ja seurasi h\u00e4nt\u00e4 mets\u00e4\u00e4n. Kun he\nolivat kulkeneet jonkun matkaa, niin Tristram herra laskeutui alas\nsatulasta ja riisui haarniskansa ja sitoi haavansa. Silloin Dinadan\nherra pelk\u00e4si, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n siihen paikkaan kuolisi.\n\"No, no, Dinadan, \u00e4l\u00e4 suotta pelk\u00e4\u00e4\", Tristram herra sanoi, \"minun\nmieleni ei ole mustunut, ja t\u00e4st\u00e4 haavasta min\u00e4 Jumalan armollisella\navulla kyll\u00e4 pian paranen.\"\nKun Tristram herra l\u00e4hti mets\u00e4\u00e4n, niin Lancelot herra yh\u00e4 jatkoi\ntaistelua kuin vimmattu, ja silloin oli monta jaloa ritaria h\u00e4nt\u00e4\nvastassa. Kun Arthur kuningas n\u00e4ki Lancelot herran tekev\u00e4n sellaisia\nihmeellisi\u00e4 asetekoja, niin h\u00e4n asestautui ja otti ratsunsa ja\nvaruksensa ja ratsasti taistelukent\u00e4lle Lancelot herraa auttamaan,\nja monta muutakin ritaria tuli sinne Arthur kuninkaan muassa. Ja\nlyhyesti kertoaksemme, lopuksi voitettiin sek\u00e4 Pohjois-Walesin\nkuningas ett\u00e4 \"Sadan ritarin\" kuningas, ja koska Lancelot herra yh\u00e4\ntaisteli ja j\u00e4i viimeiseksi kent\u00e4lle, niin palkinto annettiin h\u00e4nelle.\nMutta Lancelot herra ei tahtonut ottaa vastaan palkintoa, ei\nkuninkaan, kuningattaren eik\u00e4 ritarien mieliksi; mutta kaikkialla\npitkin kentt\u00e4\u00e4 huudettiin siit\u00e4 huolimatta: \"Lancelot herra, Lancelot\nherra on t\u00e4n\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 voittanut taistelun!\" Silloin Lancelot herra\npani huutamaan p\u00e4invastaista huutoa: \"Tristram herra on voittanut\ntaistelun! Sill\u00e4 h\u00e4n alkoi ensim\u00e4isen\u00e4 ja viimeiseksi h\u00e4n kesti! Ja\nniin h\u00e4n teki ensim\u00e4isen\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 ja toisena ja kolmantena!\"\nKymmenen ritaria etsim\u00e4ss\u00e4.\nSilloin kaikki sek\u00e4 ylh\u00e4iset ett\u00e4 alhaiset ylistiv\u00e4t suuresti\nLancelot herraa sen kunnioituksen vuoksi, jota h\u00e4n osoitti Tristram\nherralle, ja sen Tristram herralle osoittamansa kunnioituksen t\u00e4hden\nh\u00e4nt\u00e4 mainittiin ja kiitettiin paljo enemm\u00e4n, kuin jos h\u00e4n olisi\nly\u00f6nyt viisisataa ritaria. Ja kaikki kansa, yksinomaan t\u00e4m\u00e4n h\u00e4nen\nritarillisuutensa vuoksi, ensin jalosukuiset, suuret ja pienet, ja\nsitten kaikki rahvaskin, huusi yhdest\u00e4 suusta: \"Lancelot herra on\nvoittanut taistelun, v\u00e4itt\u00e4k\u00f6\u00f6n vastaan kuka hyv\u00e4ns\u00e4!\" Se suututti ja\nh\u00e4vetti Lancelot herraa ja h\u00e4n ratsasti Arthur kuninkaan luo.\n\"Voi\", kuningas sanoi, \"me olemme kaikki peloissamme, kun Tristram\nherra sill\u00e4 tapaa l\u00e4hti meid\u00e4n luotamme. Totisesti h\u00e4n on jaloimpia\nritareita, joiden koskaan olen n\u00e4hnyt pit\u00e4v\u00e4n miekkaa tai keih\u00e4st\u00e4\nk\u00e4dess\u00e4\u00e4n.\"\nArthur kuningas ja Lancelot herra ottivat ratsunsa l\u00e4hte\u00e4kseen\nhakemaan Tristram herraa, mutta kun he tulivat sille teltalle,\njossa h\u00e4n oli nukkunut y\u00f6n ennen turnajaisia niin h\u00e4n ja Dinadan\nherra olivat jo menneet. Kuningas ja Lancelot herra olivat suuresti\nsuruissaan, kun eiv\u00e4t l\u00f6yt\u00e4neet h\u00e4nt\u00e4, ja palasivat neitojen\nlinnalle, valittaen kovasti Tristram herran haavoittumista ja h\u00e4nen\n\u00e4kkin\u00e4ist\u00e4 l\u00e4ht\u00f6\u00e4\u00e4n.\n\"Totisesti\", Arthur kuningas sanoi, \"min\u00e4 olen enemm\u00e4n murheissani\nsiit\u00e4 etten saa tavata h\u00e4nt\u00e4, kuin kaikista niist\u00e4 vammoista, joita\nritarini ovat saaneet n\u00e4iss\u00e4 turnajaisissa.\"\nJuuri silloin tuli Gaheris herra ja kertoi Arthur kuninkaalle, ett\u00e4\nsen j\u00e4lkeen kuin Tristram herra oli haavoittunut, Palamides herra\noli l\u00e4htenyt h\u00e4nen j\u00e4lkeens\u00e4 mets\u00e4\u00e4n ja vaatinut h\u00e4nt\u00e4 tjostaamaan\nkanssansa ja ett\u00e4 Tristram herra oli siell\u00e4 sy\u00f6ssyt h\u00e4net maahan.\n\"Voi\", Arthur kuningas sanoi, \"se oli suuri h\u00e4pe\u00e4 Palamides herralle,\nkoska Tristram herra oli vaikeasti haavoittunut, ja nyt sanokaamme me\nkaikki, kuninkaat, ritarit ja arvon miehet, ett\u00e4 Tristram herraa on\nkutsuttava jaloksi ritariksi ja yhdeksi parhaimmista ritareista, mit\u00e4\nkoskaan elonp\u00e4ivin\u00e4ni olen n\u00e4hnyt. Sill\u00e4 min\u00e4 tahdon, ett\u00e4 te kaikki\ntied\u00e4tte, ett\u00e4 min\u00e4 en milloinkaan ole n\u00e4hnyt kenenk\u00e4\u00e4n ritarin\ntekev\u00e4n niin ihmeellisi\u00e4 tekoja, kuin h\u00e4n n\u00e4in\u00e4 kolmena p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 on\ntehnyt; sill\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli ensim\u00e4inen, joka alkoi ja pisimm\u00e4n aikaa h\u00e4n\nkesti, paitsi t\u00e4n\u00e4 viimeisen\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4. Ja vaikka h\u00e4n haavoittuikin\ntaistelussa, niin se tapahtui kahden jalon ritarin miehuullisessa\nottelussa; ja kun kaksi uljasta miest\u00e4 rynt\u00e4\u00e4 toisiansa vastaan, niin\nt\u00e4ytyy jommankumman joutua tappiolle, niinkuin Jumala kulloinkin\nsallii.\"\n\"Ja min\u00e4\", Lancelot herra sanoi, \"ennemmin olisin min\u00e4 luopunut\nkaikista maistani, jotka is\u00e4ni on j\u00e4tt\u00e4nyt minulle perinn\u00f6ksi, kuin\nolisin tahtonut haavoittaa Tristram herraa, jos olisin h\u00e4net sill\u00e4\nhetkell\u00e4 tuntenut. Ett\u00e4 min\u00e4 haavoitin h\u00e4nt\u00e4, tapahtui senvuoksi,\nett\u00e4 min\u00e4 en n\u00e4hnyt h\u00e4nen kilpe\u00e4ns\u00e4, sill\u00e4 jos min\u00e4 olisin n\u00e4hnyt\nh\u00e4nen mustan kilpens\u00e4, niin en min\u00e4 mist\u00e4\u00e4n hinnasta olisi puuttunut\nh\u00e4neen, sill\u00e4 hiljattain h\u00e4n teki minulle niin suuren hyv\u00e4n ty\u00f6n,\nettei kenk\u00e4\u00e4n ritari koskaan voi suurempaa tehd\u00e4. Ja tunnettuahan\non, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n otteli kolmenkymmenen ritarin kanssa ja ilman muuta\napua kuin Dinadan herran. Ja yhden asian min\u00e4 lupaan, -- Palamides\nherra saa katua sit\u00e4 ep\u00e4yst\u00e4v\u00e4llist\u00e4 tekoaan, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n ajoi takaa\nsit\u00e4 jaloa ritaria, jonka min\u00e4 tapaturmassa haavoitin.\" Niin Lancelot\nherra ylisteli ja kiitteli Tristram herraa.\nSitten Arthur kuningas piti suuret pidot kaikille, jotka tahtoivat\ntulla, ja pidoissa h\u00e4n sanoi Lancelot herralle:\n\"Jollei teit\u00e4 olisi ollut, emme olisi menett\u00e4neet Tristram herraa,\nsill\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 joka p\u00e4iv\u00e4 siihen hetkeen asti kun te h\u00e4net\ntapasitte, ja pahana hetken\u00e4 te h\u00e4nen kanssaan ottelitte.\"\n\"Arthur, valtiaani\", Lancelot virkkoi, \"te soimaatte minua vikap\u00e4\u00e4ksi\nh\u00e4nen l\u00e4ht\u00f6\u00f6ns\u00e4. Totisesti se oli vastoin minun tahtoani. Mutta kun\nmiehet kuumenevat aseleikiss\u00e4, niin he usein haavoittavat yst\u00e4vi\u00e4\u00e4n\nyht\u00e4hyvin kuin vihamiehi\u00e4\u00e4nkin; ja, valtiaani, teid\u00e4n tulee ymm\u00e4rt\u00e4\u00e4,\nett\u00e4 Tristram herra on mies, jota min\u00e4 en suinkaan ole halukas\nvahingoittamaan, sill\u00e4 h\u00e4n on tehnyt minun hyv\u00e4kseni enemm\u00e4n, kuin\nmin\u00e4 t\u00e4h\u00e4n asti olen ikin\u00e4 tehnyt h\u00e4nen hyv\u00e4ksens\u00e4.\"\nSitten Lancelot herra tuotatti paikalle kirjan, ja sanoi:\n\"T\u00e4ss\u00e4 meit\u00e4 on kymmenen ritaria, jotka vannomme kirjan p\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4,\nettemme koskaan n\u00e4in\u00e4 kahtenatoista kuukautena j\u00e4\u00e4 toiseksi y\u00f6t\u00e4\nsinne, miss\u00e4 olemme yhden y\u00f6n lev\u00e4nneet, kunnes olemme l\u00f6yt\u00e4neet\nTristram herran. Ja min\u00e4 puolestani lupaan t\u00e4m\u00e4n kirjan p\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4, ett\u00e4\njos vain h\u00e4net kohtaan, niin keinoilla mill\u00e4 tahansa tuon h\u00e4net t\u00e4h\u00e4n\nhoviin, taikka muutoin henkeni menk\u00f6\u00f6n.\"\nNiiden kymmenen ritarin nimet, jotka l\u00e4htiv\u00e4t etsim\u00e4\u00e4n, olivat\nseuraavat: Ensiksi oli Lancelot herra; sitten Ector herra, Ganisin\nBors herra, Bleoberis ja Blamor herrat; Lucan juomanlaskija; Uwaine\nherra, Galihud herra, Lionel herra ja Galiodin herra.\nN\u00e4m\u00e4 kymmenen jaloa ritaria l\u00e4htiv\u00e4t Arthur kuninkaan hovista, ja he\nratsastivat yhdess\u00e4, kunnes tulivat er\u00e4\u00e4seen tienristeykseen, josta\nl\u00e4hti nelj\u00e4 valtatiet\u00e4; ja siin\u00e4 seurue hajaantui nelj\u00e4\u00e4n osaan\nTristram herraa hakemaan.\nSill\u00e4v\u00e4lin Tristram herra ja Dinadan herra pitiv\u00e4t asuntoa er\u00e4\u00e4n\nvanhan, Darras herra nimisen ritarin linnassa.\nJouduttuaan mets\u00e4ss\u00e4 tappiolle Palamides herra oli melkein joutua\npois suunniltaan kiukusta ja vihasta Tristram herraa kohtaan, ja niin\nh\u00e4n p\u00e4\u00e4tti ajaa h\u00e4nt\u00e4 takaa. Tullessaan er\u00e4\u00e4lle joelle, h\u00e4n koetti\nhurjap\u00e4iss\u00e4\u00e4n saada ratsunsa hypp\u00e4\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n sen yli, mutta h\u00e4nen ratsunsa\nastui harhaan ja putosi jokeen, ja silloin Palamides herra pelk\u00e4si\nhukkuvansa. Kuitenkin h\u00e4n p\u00e4\u00e4si irralleen hevosesta ja ui rannalle,\nmutta hevonen upposi.\nKun Palamides herra saapui rantaan, niin h\u00e4n riisui ylt\u00e4\u00e4n varuksensa\nja istui maahan ja ulisi ja ulvoi ik\u00e4\u00e4nkuin olisi menett\u00e4nyt\nj\u00e4rkens\u00e4. Juuri silloin muuan neito ratsasti Palamides herran\nohi, ja he puhuivat toisilleen sanoja, jotka eiv\u00e4t olleet heid\u00e4n\nkumpaisenkaan mieleen; niin neito jatkoi matkaansa kunnes h\u00e4n tuli\nsiihen paikkaan, jossa Tristram herra asui er\u00e4\u00e4n vanhan ritarin\nluona, ja siell\u00e4 h\u00e4n kertoi, kuinka h\u00e4n sattumalta oli kohdannut\nhulluimman ritarin, mit\u00e4 h\u00e4n koskaan ennen oli n\u00e4hnyt.\n\"Mit\u00e4 h\u00e4nell\u00e4 oli kilvess\u00e4\u00e4n?\" Tristram herra sanoi.\n\"Se oli mustan ja valkoisen juovainen\", neito sanoi.\n\"Ah, se on Palamides herra\", Tristram herra virkkoi, \"h\u00e4n on uljas\nritari, sill\u00e4 min\u00e4 tied\u00e4n ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n on yksi parhaimpia ritareita,\njoita on t\u00e4ss\u00e4 valtakunnassa.\"\nSitten tuo vanha ritari otti pienen hevosen ja ratsasti hakemaan\nPalamides herraa ja toi h\u00e4net omaan kartanoonsa.\nJoka kerta kun Palamides herra sattui n\u00e4kem\u00e4\u00e4n Tristram herran, niin\nh\u00e4n katseli h\u00e4nt\u00e4 tarkasti, sill\u00e4 vaikkei h\u00e4n tuntenut h\u00e4nt\u00e4, niin\nh\u00e4nest\u00e4 tuntui kuin h\u00e4n olisi n\u00e4hnyt h\u00e4net ennen. Sitten h\u00e4n tapasi\nsanoa Dinadan herralle: \"Jos koskaan kohtaan Tristram herran, niin\neip\u00e4 h\u00e4n ole p\u00e4\u00e4sev\u00e4 k\u00e4sist\u00e4ni.\"\n\"Minua ihmetytt\u00e4\u00e4\", Dinadan herra sanoi, \"ett\u00e4 te p\u00f6yhkeilette\nTristram herran sel\u00e4n takana, sill\u00e4 vasta hiljattainhan h\u00e4n oli\nteid\u00e4n k\u00e4siss\u00e4nne ja te h\u00e4nen k\u00e4siss\u00e4ns\u00e4. Miksi ette pit\u00e4nyt h\u00e4nt\u00e4\nkiinni, kun h\u00e4n teill\u00e4 oli? Sill\u00e4 min\u00e4 n\u00e4in itse pari kolme kertaa,\nett\u00e4 Tristram herra piteli teit\u00e4 jokseenkin kovakouraisesti.\"\nSilloin Palamides herra h\u00e4pesi.\nSiten he asustivat jonkun aikaa linnassa tuon vanhan ritarin, Darras\nherran, luona. Mutta yhten\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 tuli muuan neito, joka kertoi\nDarras herralle, ett\u00e4 kolme h\u00e4nen pojistaan oli surmattu Neitojen\nlinnan turnajaisissa, ja kaksi oli tullut kauheasti haavoitetuiksi,\nniin ett\u00e4 luultavasti he eiv\u00e4t koskaan paranisi, ja kaiken t\u00e4m\u00e4n oli\ntehnyt muuan jalo ritari, joka kantoi mustaa kilpe\u00e4. Silloin joku\nsanoi, ett\u00e4 se sama ritari, joka kantoi sit\u00e4 mustaa kilpe\u00e4, oli juuri\nDarras herran linnassa. Darras herra meni Tristramin huoneeseen, ja\nsielt\u00e4 h\u00e4n l\u00f6ysi h\u00e4nen kilpens\u00e4 ja n\u00e4ytti sit\u00e4 neidolle.\n\"Oi herra\", neito sanoi, \"se sama mies, joka kantoi t\u00e4t\u00e4 kilpe\u00e4, se\nteid\u00e4n poikanne surmasi.\"\nViipym\u00e4tt\u00e4 Darras herra silloin heitti Tristram herran, Palamides\nherran ja Dinadan herran ankaraan vankeuteen, ja siell\u00e4 Tristram\nherra k\u00e4vi niin sairaaksi, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli v\u00e4h\u00e4ll\u00e4 kuolla. Ja joka\np\u00e4iv\u00e4 Palamides herra tapasi soimata Tristram herraa sen vanhan\nvihan t\u00e4hden, joka oli heid\u00e4n v\u00e4lill\u00e4\u00e4n, mutta Tristram herra puhui\nkauniisti ja vain v\u00e4h\u00e4n. Mutta kun Palamides herra n\u00e4ki Tristram\nherran sairastuvan, niin se suretti h\u00e4nt\u00e4 ja h\u00e4n lohdutti Tristram\nherraa parhaiten kuin taisi.\nSitten tuli Darras herran luo nelj\u00e4kymment\u00e4 ritaria, jotka olivat\nh\u00e4nen omaa sukuansa, ja he olisivat tahtoneet surmata Tristram herran\nja h\u00e4nen molemmat kumppaninsa; mutta Darras herra ei kuitenkaan\ntahtonut siihen suostua, vaikka h\u00e4n pitikin heit\u00e4 yh\u00e4 vankeudessa; ja\nheill\u00e4 oli kylliksi sy\u00f6mist\u00e4 ja juomista.\nMutta Tristram herra k\u00e4rsi siell\u00e4 kovaa tuskaa, sill\u00e4 sairaus yll\u00e4tti\nh\u00e4net, ja se on suurin vaiva mik\u00e4 vankia saattaa kohdata. Sill\u00e4\nniin kauan kuin vangilla on ruumiinsa terveys, niin h\u00e4n voi kest\u00e4\u00e4,\nJumalan avulla ja vapautuksen toivossa; mutta kun sairaus rupeaa\nvangin ruumiiseen, niin silloin saattaa vanki sanoa, ett\u00e4 kaikki onni\non h\u00e4nelt\u00e4 viety, ja silloin h\u00e4nell\u00e4 on syyt\u00e4 itke\u00e4 ja valittaa. Ja\nniin teki Tristram herra, kun sairaus yll\u00e4tti h\u00e4net, sill\u00e4 silloin\nh\u00e4nen oli niin vaikea olla, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n melkein oli surmata itsens\u00e4.\nMorgan le Fayn kummallinen kilpi.\nKun Tristram herra sairastui, niin Dinadan herra ja Palamides herra\nsurivat suuresti, ja yhten\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 tuli muuan neito ja tapasi\nheid\u00e4t valittamassa. Niin h\u00e4n meni Darras herran luo ja kertoi\nh\u00e4nelle kuinka se mahtava ritari, joka kantoi mustaa kilpe\u00e4, oli\nkuolemaisillaan.\n\"Se ei saa tapahtua\", Darras herra sanoi, \"sill\u00e4 Jumala varjelkoon,\nett\u00e4 min\u00e4 antaisin niiden kuolla vankeudessa luonani, jotka ovat\ntulleet minulta apua saamaan. Tuokaa tuo ritari ja h\u00e4nen kumppaninsa\nminun eteeni.\" Ja kun h\u00e4n n\u00e4ki Tristramin, niin h\u00e4n sanoi: \"Herra\nritari, minua surettaa sinun sairautesi, sill\u00e4 sinua kutsutaan\njaloksi ritariksi, ja silt\u00e4 sin\u00e4 n\u00e4yt\u00e4tkin. Ja tied\u00e4, ettei koskaan\nkenk\u00e4\u00e4n saa sanoa, ett\u00e4 Darras herra on antanut sellaisen jalon\nritarin kuin sin\u00e4 menehty\u00e4 vankeudessa, vaikka sin\u00e4 oletkin surmannut\nkolme minun poikaani, josta min\u00e4 olin suuresti murheissani. Mutta nyt\nsin\u00e4 saat menn\u00e4 ja sinun kumppanisi; teid\u00e4n varuksianne ja ratsujanne\non hyvin hoidettu ja pidetty puhtaina, ja te saatte menn\u00e4 minne\nhaluatte -- sill\u00e4 ehdolla ett\u00e4 sin\u00e4, ritari, lupaat minulle ett\u00e4\ntahdot olla minun molempien viel\u00e4 elossa olevien poikieni hyv\u00e4 yst\u00e4v\u00e4\nja ett\u00e4 sin\u00e4 my\u00f6skin ilmoitat minulle nimesi.\"\n\"Herra\", Tristram sanoi, \"minun nimeni on Lyonessen Tristram ja\nCornwallissa min\u00e4 synnyin ja min\u00e4 olen Mark kuninkaan sisarenpoika.\nJa mit\u00e4 tulee teid\u00e4n poikienne kuolemaan, niin min\u00e4 en voinut sit\u00e4\nauttaa, sill\u00e4 vaikka he olisivat olleet minun l\u00e4himpi\u00e4 sukulaisiani,\nniin en olisi voinut tehd\u00e4 toisin. Jos min\u00e4 olisin surmannut heid\u00e4t\nkavaluuden tai petoksen kautta, niin min\u00e4 olisin ansainnut kuoleman.\"\n\"Niin min\u00e4kin ajattelen\", Darras herra sanoi, \"ett\u00e4 kaikki mit\u00e4 te\nteitte tapahtui ritariuden pakosta ja sen lakien mukaan, ja senp\u00e4\nvuoksi min\u00e4 en tahtonutkaan teit\u00e4 tappaa. Mutta koska te olette\nTristram herra, se jalo ritari, niin min\u00e4 pyyd\u00e4n syd\u00e4mest\u00e4ni, ett\u00e4 te\nrupeisitte hyv\u00e4ksi yst\u00e4v\u00e4ksi minulle ja minun pojilleni.\"\n\"Herra\", Tristram sanoi, \"min\u00e4 lupaan teille kautta kunniani, ett\u00e4\ntahdon palvella teit\u00e4 niin kauan kuin el\u00e4n, sill\u00e4 te olette kohdellut\nmeit\u00e4 ainoastaan ritarin tavalla.\"\nTristram herra viipyi linnassa, kunnes h\u00e4nen sairautensa parani, ja\nkun h\u00e4n taas oli terve ja voimissaan, niin nuo kolme kumppanusta\nvalmistautuivat l\u00e4htem\u00e4\u00e4n; kukin ritari otti ratsunsa, ja niin he\nl\u00e4htiv\u00e4t, ratsastaen yhdess\u00e4, kunnes tulivat tienristeykseen, josta\nhe kukin l\u00e4htiv\u00e4t kulkemaan eri tiet\u00e4.\nSilloin tapahtui sattumalta, ett\u00e4 Tristram herra tuli kysym\u00e4\u00e4n\nasuntoa er\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 linnasta, jossa Morgan le Fay oli, ja siell\u00e4 h\u00e4nt\u00e4\nsin\u00e4 iltana kestitettiin, sy\u00f6tettiin ja juotettiin. Mutta aamulla kun\nh\u00e4n tahtoi l\u00e4hte\u00e4, sanoi kuningatar h\u00e4nelle:\n\"Pankaa mieleenne, te ette helposti p\u00e4\u00e4se l\u00e4htem\u00e4\u00e4n t\u00e4\u00e4lt\u00e4, sill\u00e4 te\nolette t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 vankina.\"\n\"Jumala varjelkoon\", sanoi Tristram herra, \"sill\u00e4 juuri vastahan min\u00e4\np\u00e4\u00e4sin vankeudesta.\"\n\"Jalo ritari\", kuningatar sanoi, \"teid\u00e4n tulee viipy\u00e4 minun luonani,\nkunnes saan tiet\u00e4\u00e4, mit\u00e4 te olette miehi\u00e4nne ja mist\u00e4 te tulette.\nSanokaa minulle nimenne, ja min\u00e4 sallin teid\u00e4n l\u00e4hte\u00e4 koska tahdotte.\"\n\"Sill\u00e4 ehdolla tahdon sanoa teille nimeni -- min\u00e4 olen Lyonessen\nTristram.\"\n\"Ah\", sanoi Morgan le Fay, \"jospa olisin sen tiet\u00e4nyt, niin ette\nte olisi p\u00e4\u00e4ssyt niin pian l\u00e4htem\u00e4\u00e4n, mutta koska min\u00e4 kerran olen\nluvannut, niin min\u00e4 tahdon pit\u00e4\u00e4 sanani sill\u00e4 ehdolla, ett\u00e4 te\nlupaatte vied\u00e4 er\u00e4\u00e4n kilven, jonka min\u00e4 annan teille, Kovan kallion\nlinnaan, jossa Arthur kuningas on julistanut pidett\u00e4v\u00e4ksi suuret\nturnajaiset; ja min\u00e4 pyyd\u00e4n teit\u00e4 menem\u00e4\u00e4n sinne ja tekem\u00e4\u00e4n minun\npuolestani niin paljon asetekoja, kuin voitte. Sill\u00e4 Neitojen\nlinnalla, Tristram herra, te teitte ihmeellisempi\u00e4 asetekoja, kuin\nkoskaan olen kuullut kenenk\u00e4\u00e4n ritarin tekev\u00e4n.\"\n\"Hyv\u00e4 rouva\", Tristram sanoi, \"n\u00e4ytt\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4 minulle tuo kilpi, jota\nminun tulee kantaa.\"\nNiin kilpi tuotiin esille, ja se oli kultainen, ja siihen oli\nmaalattu kuningas ja kuningatar ja ritari, joka seisoi heid\u00e4n\nyl\u00e4puolellaan, toinen jalka kuninkaan ja toinen kuningattaren p\u00e4\u00e4n\np\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4.\n\"Hyv\u00e4 rouva\", Tristram sanoi, \"t\u00e4m\u00e4 on kaunis kilpi ja komea; mutta\nmit\u00e4 tarkoittaa t\u00e4m\u00e4 kuningas ja t\u00e4m\u00e4 kuningatar ja tuo ritari, joka\nseisoo heid\u00e4n molempien p\u00e4ittens\u00e4 p\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4?\"\n\"Sanonpa teille\", sanoi Morgan le Fay; \"se tarkoittaa Arthur\nkuningasta ja Guinevere kuningatarta ja er\u00e4st\u00e4 ritaria, joka\nvallitsee heit\u00e4 molempia.\"\n\"Kuka on se ritari?\" Tristram kysyi.\n\"Sit\u00e4 ette juuri viel\u00e4 saa tiet\u00e4\u00e4\", kuningatar sanoi.\nMutta se oli vain ilke\u00e4 juoni, jolla Morgan le Fay tahtoi tuottaa\nik\u00e4vyyksi\u00e4 Lancelot herralle, kostonhimosta vain, kun Lancelot ei\nkoskaan ollut suostunut h\u00e4nen rakkauteensa eik\u00e4 milloinkaan tehnyt\nmit\u00e4\u00e4n mit\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli pyyt\u00e4nyt. Morgan le Fay toivoi, ett\u00e4 Arthur\nkuningas saisi n\u00e4hd\u00e4 kilven ja suuttuisi Lancelot herraan sen\nmaalauksen t\u00e4hden, joka siin\u00e4 oli.\nTristram herra otti kilven ja lupasi kantaa sit\u00e4 Kovan kallion\nlinnalla pidett\u00e4viss\u00e4 turnajaisissa. H\u00e4n ei tiet\u00e4nyt silloin, ett\u00e4 se\nkilpi oli aiottu saamaan aikaan ik\u00e4vyyksi\u00e4 Lancelot herralle, mutta\nmy\u00f6hemmin h\u00e4n sen sai tiet\u00e4\u00e4. H\u00e4n sanoi hyv\u00e4stit kuningattarelle ja\nratsasti Kovan kallion linnalle, jossa h\u00e4n n\u00e4ki viisisataa telttaa.\nSkotlantilaisten kuningas ja Irlannin kuningas taistelivat Arthur\nkuninkaan ritareita vastaan, ja siell\u00e4 oli ankara tappelu. Tristram\nherra rynt\u00e4si taistelun tuoksinaan ja teki ihmeellisi\u00e4 asetekoja,\npaiskaten maahan useita ritareita. Ja kaikkialla taistelun myll\u00e4k\u00e4ss\u00e4\nloisti etumaisena tuo kummallinen kilpi.\nKun kuningas n\u00e4ki sen, niin h\u00e4n ihmetteli kovin, miss\u00e4 tarkoituksessa\nse oli tehty, mutta Guinevere kuningatar arvasi, mit\u00e4 se tarkoitti,\nja senvuoksi h\u00e4n tuli raskaalle mielelle. Muuan Morgan le Fayn\nhovineiti oli sattumalta l\u00e4sn\u00e4 siin\u00e4 huoneessa, josta kuningas\nkatseli turnajaisia, ja kun h\u00e4n kuuli kuninkaan puhuvan kilvest\u00e4,\nniin h\u00e4n sanoi suoraan:\n\"Herra kuningas, tiet\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4, ett\u00e4 t\u00e4m\u00e4 kilpi oli aiottu teit\u00e4 varten,\nsaattamaan teit\u00e4 h\u00e4pe\u00e4n ja pilkan alaiseksi\", ja sitten h\u00e4n hiipi\nvarkain pois, niin ettei kukaan tiennyt minne h\u00e4n joutui.\nArthur kuningas suuttui ja kiukustui h\u00e4nen sanoistansa ja kysyi,\nmist\u00e4 se neito oli, mutta siell\u00e4 ei ollut ket\u00e4\u00e4n, joka olisi h\u00e4nt\u00e4\ntuntenut tai tiet\u00e4nyt minne h\u00e4n oli mennyt.\nKaiken t\u00e4m\u00e4n aikaa kuningas piti silm\u00e4ll\u00e4 Tristram herraa, joka\nteki niin ihmeellisi\u00e4 asetekoja, ett\u00e4 kuningas ihmetteli, kuka h\u00e4n\nmahtoi olla, sill\u00e4 h\u00e4n tiesi, ettei se ritari ollut Lancelot herra.\nH\u00e4nelle oli kerrottu ett\u00e4 Tristram herra oli Brittanyss\u00e4 puolisonsa,\nValkok\u00e4tisen Iseultin luona, ja Arthur arveli ett\u00e4 jos Tristram olisi\nollut Englannissa, niin Lancelot herra tai joku h\u00e4nen kumppaneistaan,\njotka olivat menneet Tristram herraa etsim\u00e4\u00e4n, olisivat jo\nenn\u00e4tt\u00e4neet l\u00f6yt\u00e4\u00e4 h\u00e4net. Niin Arthur kuningas ihmetteli, mik\u00e4 ritari\nt\u00e4m\u00e4 saattoi olla, ja katseli katselemistaan kilpe\u00e4.\nJa Tristram herra paiskoi maahan ritareita, niin ett\u00e4 sit\u00e4 oli ihana\nkatsella, oikealle vain ja vasemmalle h\u00e4n heit\u00e4 py\u00f6r\u00e4ytteli, ja\ntuskin kukaan saattoi h\u00e4nt\u00e4 vastustaa. Mutta Skotlannin kuningas ja\nIrlannin kuningas alkoivat vet\u00e4yty\u00e4 takaisin. Kun Arthur n\u00e4ki sen,\nniin h\u00e4n p\u00e4\u00e4tti ettei tuon ritarin, jolla oli se kummallinen kilpi,\npit\u00e4isi p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 h\u00e4nen k\u00e4sist\u00e4ns\u00e4. Sent\u00e4hden h\u00e4n huusi luokseen Uwaine\nherran ja k\u00e4ski h\u00e4nen asestautua; ja sitten he \u00e4kki\u00e4 ilmestyiv\u00e4t\nTristram herran eteen ja vaativat h\u00e4nt\u00e4 ilmoittamaan heille, mist\u00e4\nh\u00e4n oli saanut sen kilven.\n\"Herra\", t\u00e4m\u00e4 sanoi, \"min\u00e4 sain sen kuningatar Morgan le Faylta,\nArthur kuninkaan sisarelta.\"\n\"Vai niin, no, voitteko sanoa, mit\u00e4 kilpenne merkitsee. Muuten ei\nteid\u00e4n sovi sit\u00e4 kantaa.\"\n\"T\u00e4m\u00e4n kilven antoi minulle sit\u00e4 pyyt\u00e4m\u00e4tt\u00e4ni kuningatar Morgan\nle Fay\", Tristram herra vastasi, \"enk\u00e4 min\u00e4 tied\u00e4 mit\u00e4 t\u00e4m\u00e4 ase\nmerkitsee, eik\u00e4 se minuun kuulukaan; mutta kuitenkin luulen kantavani\nkunnialla t\u00e4t\u00e4 kilpe\u00e4.\"\n\"Totisesti\", Arthur kuningas sanoi, \"teid\u00e4n ei pit\u00e4isi kantaa mit\u00e4\u00e4n\naseita, jollette tied\u00e4 mit\u00e4 kannatte. Mutta min\u00e4 pyyd\u00e4n teit\u00e4,\nilmoittakaa minulle nimenne.\"\n\"Mink\u00e4 vuoksi?\" Tristram herra kysyi.\n\"Senvuoksi ett\u00e4 min\u00e4 haluan tiet\u00e4\u00e4 sen\", Arthur kuningas virkkoi.\n\"Herra, te ette saa sit\u00e4 tiet\u00e4\u00e4 t\u00e4ll\u00e4 hetkell\u00e4.\"\n\"Silloin t\u00e4ytyy teid\u00e4n ja minun taistella kesken\u00e4mme\", sanoi Arthur\nkuningas.\n\"Miksi te tahdotte taistella minun kanssani, jollen sano teille\nnime\u00e4ni?\" Tristram sanoi. \"Tuskinpa te niin tekisitte, jos olisitte\nkunnian mies, sill\u00e4 te olette n\u00e4hnyt, ett\u00e4 minulla on t\u00e4n\u00e4\u00e4n\nollut kova ty\u00f6; senvuoksi te olette arvoton ritari, kun vaaditte\nminua taisteluun. Kuitenkaan min\u00e4 en tahdo kielt\u00e4yty\u00e4, \u00e4lk\u00e4\u00e4k\u00e4 te\nluulotelkokaan, ett\u00e4 min\u00e4 teit\u00e4 pelk\u00e4isin; vaikka te mielest\u00e4nne\nolettekin nyt minua voimallisempi ja k\u00e4yt\u00e4tte tilaisuutta hyv\u00e4ksenne,\nniin min\u00e4 n\u00e4yt\u00e4n ett\u00e4 sent\u00e4\u00e4n sangen hyvin voin pit\u00e4\u00e4 puoliani.\"\nSamassa Arthur kuningas kohotti kilpens\u00e4 ja peitsens\u00e4 ja Tristram\nherra teki samoin ja he sy\u00f6ksyiv\u00e4t niin kiivaasti yhteen, ett\u00e4 Arthur\nkuningas katkaisi keih\u00e4\u00e4ns\u00e4 kappaleiksi Tristram herran kilpe\u00e4\nvastaan. Mutta Tristram herra iski Arthur kuningasta takaisin niin,\nett\u00e4 ratsu ja mies kaatui maahan; ja kuningas sai haavan vasempaan\nkylkeens\u00e4, ison haavan ja vaarallisen.\nKun Uwaine herra n\u00e4ki hallitsijansa Arthurin makaavan maassa\nvaikeasti haavoitettuna, niin h\u00e4n tuli sangen apealle mielelle.\nSitten h\u00e4n ojensi keih\u00e4\u00e4ns\u00e4 ja kilpens\u00e4 ja huusi kovalla \u00e4\u00e4nell\u00e4\nTristramille: \"Puolustaudu, ritari!\" He iskiv\u00e4t yhteen kuin ukkosen\njyrin\u00e4, ja Uwaine herra katkaisi keih\u00e4\u00e4ns\u00e4 kappaleiksi Tristram\nherran kilpe\u00e4 vastaan. Ja Tristram herra iski h\u00e4nt\u00e4 yh\u00e4 kovemmin\nja kiivaammin sellaisella voimalla, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n ty\u00f6nsi Uwaine herran\nsatulasta maahan.\nSilloin Tristram herra k\u00e4\u00e4ntyi ymp\u00e4ri ja sanoi: \"Jalot ritarit, minun\nei olisi tarvinnut tjostata teid\u00e4n kanssanne, sill\u00e4 minulla on ollut\nkylliksi tekemist\u00e4 t\u00e4n\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4.\"\nSilloin Arthur nousi ja meni Uwaine herran luo ja sanoi Tristram\nherralle:\n\"Meid\u00e4n on k\u00e4ynyt niinkuin me olemme ansainneet, sill\u00e4 kopeudessamme\nme vaadimme teit\u00e4 taisteluun, emmek\u00e4 viel\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n tied\u00e4 teid\u00e4n nime\u00e4nne.\"\n\"Totisesti\", Uwaine herra sanoi, \"kautta kunniani, olipa se v\u00e4kev\u00e4\nritari, v\u00e4kev\u00e4mpi kuin kenk\u00e4\u00e4n, jonka kanssa t\u00e4h\u00e4n saakka olen\notellut.\"\nHautakivi Camelot virran rannalla.\nVoitettuaan Arthur kuninkaan ja Uwaine herran Tristram l\u00e4hti Kovan\nkallion linnasta; kaikkialla minne h\u00e4n tuli h\u00e4n kysyi Lancelot\nherraa, mutta miss\u00e4\u00e4n paikassa h\u00e4n ei voinut saada tietoja h\u00e4nest\u00e4,\noliko h\u00e4n kuollut vaiko elossa, ja senvuoksi Tristram herra suri ja\nmurehti suuresti. Kun h\u00e4n ratsasti muutaman mets\u00e4n kautta, niin h\u00e4n\nn\u00e4ki kauniin linnan, suo toisella puolella ja viheri\u00e4inen niitty\ntoisella puolella, ja siell\u00e4 h\u00e4n n\u00e4ki kymmenen ritaria taistelevan\ntoisiansa vastaan. Kun h\u00e4n tuli l\u00e4hemm\u00e4ksi, niin h\u00e4n n\u00e4ki, kuinka\nyksi ritari se vain pitikin puoliansa yhdeks\u00e4\u00e4 vastaan, ja se\nyksin\u00e4inen ritari taisteli niin ihmeellisen urhokkaasti, ett\u00e4\nTristram ihmetteli kovin, kuinka yksi ritari saattoi tehd\u00e4 sellaisia\nasetekoja. H\u00e4nen tuli tuota ritaria suuresti s\u00e4\u00e4li, ja h\u00e4nen\nkilvest\u00e4\u00e4n h\u00e4n p\u00e4\u00e4tti ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n varmaankin oli Palamides herra.\nNiin Tristram herra ratsasti ritarien luo ja huusi heille ja k\u00e4ski\nheid\u00e4n lakata taistelemasta, sill\u00e4 he tekiv\u00e4t itselleen suurta\nh\u00e4pe\u00e4t\u00e4, kun taistelivat niin moni ritari yht\u00e4 vastaan. Olisi synti,\nh\u00e4n sanoi, jos niin hyv\u00e4 ritari niin kunnottomasti surmattaisiin, ja\nsenvuoksi h\u00e4n kielsi heit\u00e4, taikka muuten h\u00e4n tulisi tuon ritarin\navuksi kaikella voimallansa.\nJoukon p\u00e4\u00e4llikk\u00f6, jota nimitettiin \"Breuse S\u00e4\u00e4lim\u00e4tt\u00f6m\u00e4ksi\", kaikkein\nilkein ja jumalattomin silloisista ritareista, ei v\u00e4litt\u00e4nyt Tristram\nherran sanoista, mutta kun h\u00e4nen miehens\u00e4 saivat kokea Tristram\nherran iskuja, niin he pakenivat kaikki linnan torniin, ja vaikka\nTristram herra seurasi t\u00e4ytt\u00e4 karkua heid\u00e4n per\u00e4ss\u00e4\u00e4n, miekka\npaljastettuna, niin he sent\u00e4\u00e4n p\u00e4\u00e4siv\u00e4t pakoon h\u00e4nen k\u00e4sist\u00e4ns\u00e4 ja\nsulkivat h\u00e4net portin ulkopuolelle.\nTristram herra palasi pelastamansa ritarin luo ja tapasi h\u00e4net\nistumassa puun alla, vaikeasti haavoitettuna.\n\"Suuri kiitos teille hyvyydest\u00e4nne\", ritari sanoi, \"sill\u00e4 te olette\npelastanut minun henkeni.\"\n\"Mik\u00e4 on teid\u00e4n nimenne?\" Tristram sanoi.\nH\u00e4n vastasi, ett\u00e4 se oli Palamides.\n\"Oho\", Tristram herra sanoi, \"sin\u00e4 olet saanut suuren\nsuosionosoituksen minulta t\u00e4n\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4, koska min\u00e4 pelastin sinun\nhenkesi, ja sin\u00e4 olet kuitenkin se mies maan p\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4, jota min\u00e4\nkaikkein enimm\u00e4n vihaan! Mutta valmistaudu nyt, sill\u00e4 min\u00e4 tahdon\ntaistella sinun kanssasi.\"\n\"Mik\u00e4 on teid\u00e4n nimenne?\" Palamides sanoi.\n\"Minun nimeni on Tristram herra, sinun verivihollisesi.\"\n\"Saattaa niin olla\", Palamides sanoi, \"mutta te olette tehnyt liian\npaljon hyv\u00e4\u00e4 minulle t\u00e4n\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4, ett\u00e4 min\u00e4 saattaisin taistella\nteit\u00e4 vastaan; sill\u00e4 koska te olette pelastanut minun henkeni, niin\nei teille olisi kunniaksi ruveta nyt ahdistamaan minua, sill\u00e4 te\nolette terve, mutta min\u00e4 olen vaikeasti haavoitettu. Senvuoksi, jos\nte v\u00e4ltt\u00e4m\u00e4tt\u00e4 tahdotte taistella minun kanssani, niin m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4tk\u00e4\u00e4\np\u00e4iv\u00e4, ja silloin min\u00e4 varmasti tulen teit\u00e4 tapaamaan.\"\n\"Oikein puhuttu\", sanoi Tristram herra. \"Min\u00e4 m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4\u00e4n siis, ett\u00e4 te\ntulette minua tapaamaan t\u00e4st\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4st\u00e4 kahden viikon taa, Camelot\nvirran rannalla olevalle niitylle, sinne mihin Merlin on asettanut\nhautakiven.\"\n\"Min\u00e4 en ole teit\u00e4 pett\u00e4v\u00e4\", sanoi Palamides herra.\nSiten he sopivat asiasta ja niin he erosivat, l\u00e4htien kumpikin omalle\ntahollensa.\nM\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 Tristram herra ratsasti suorinta tiet\u00e4 Camelotiin sille\nhaudalle, jonka Merlin oli tehnyt kauan aikaa sitten sille paikalle,\nmihin uljas ritari Lanceor ja h\u00e4nen ihana ladyns\u00e4 Columbe olivat\nmolemmat haudattuina saman kiven alle. Ja silloin Merlin ennusti,\nett\u00e4 sill\u00e4 paikalla oli taisteleva kaksi parhainta ritaria, kuin\nikin\u00e4 el\u00e4isi Arthur kuninkaan aikoina.\nKun Tristram herra tuli haudalle, johon Lanceor ja h\u00e4nen ladyns\u00e4\nolivat haudattuina, niin h\u00e4n katseli, n\u00e4kyik\u00f6 miss\u00e4\u00e4n Palamides\nherraa. Silloin h\u00e4n huomasi komean ritarin, joka tuli ratsastaen\nh\u00e4nt\u00e4 kohden, kokonaan valkoiseen puettuna, peitetty kilpi k\u00e4dess\u00e4\u00e4n.\nKun h\u00e4n tuli l\u00e4helle, niin Tristram herra huusi: \"Olkaa tervetullut,\nherra ritari, ja hyvin ja rehellisesti te olette pit\u00e4nyt lupauksenne\".\nSitten he ojensivat keih\u00e4\u00e4ns\u00e4 ja kilpens\u00e4 ja sy\u00f6ksyiv\u00e4t yhteen\nkaikella ratsujensa voimalla. He rynt\u00e4siv\u00e4t toisiansa vastaan niin\nrajusti, ett\u00e4 sek\u00e4 ratsut ett\u00e4 ritarit kaatuivat maahan, mutta he\nirtautuivat ratsuistaan niin nopeasti kuin suinkin voivat ja iskiv\u00e4t\ntoisiaan kirkkailla miekoilla, ja kumpikin haavoitti toisensa\nvaarallisesti. Sill\u00e4 tapaa he taistelivat pitk\u00e4n aikaa ja monen\nison kappaleen he hakkasivat irti toistensa varuksista, mutta ei\nkumpainenkaan virkkanut puoltakaan sanaa.\nViimein valkeaan puettu ritari puhui ja sanoi:\n\"Ritari, sin\u00e4 taistelet ihmeellisen hyvin, paremmin kuin koskaan olen\nn\u00e4hnyt kenenk\u00e4\u00e4n ritarin taistelevan, sano senvuoksi, ole niin hyv\u00e4,\nminulle nimesi.\"\n\"Herra\", Tristram virkkoi, \"minun ei haluta sanoa nime\u00e4ni\nkenellek\u00e4\u00e4n.\"\n\"Totisesti\", vieras ritari sanoi, \"koska vain minulta nime\u00e4ni\ntiedusteltaisiin, en koskaan olisi haluton sit\u00e4 sanomaan.\"\n\"Hyvin puhuttu\", Tristram virkkoi; \"silloin min\u00e4 pyyd\u00e4n teit\u00e4\nsanomaan minulle nimenne.\"\n\"Jalo ritari\", vieras virkkoi, \"minun nimeni on J\u00e4rven Lancelot.\"\n\"Voi\", Tristram sanoi, \"mit\u00e4 olen min\u00e4 tehnyt? Sill\u00e4 te olette se\nmies maan p\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4, jota min\u00e4 kaikkein enimm\u00e4n rakastan.\"\n\"Jalo ritari\", Lancelot herra sanoi, \"sanokaa minulle nimenne.\"\n\"Totisesti, minun nimeni on Tristram!\"\n\"Oh\", Lancelot herra sanoi, \"mik\u00e4 seikkailu on minulle sattunut!\" Ja\nsamalla h\u00e4n polvistui ja tarjosi miekkansa Tristram herralle. Mutta\nTristram polvistui my\u00f6skin ja tarjosi miekkaansa Lancelot herralle,\nsiten kumpikin teki toisellensa kunniaa.\nSitten he meniv\u00e4t heti hautakivelle ja istuivat sille ja ottivat\npois kyp\u00e4rins\u00e4 ja suutelivat toisiansa. Ja senj\u00e4lkeen he ratsastivat\nCamelotiin.\nSit\u00e4 l\u00e4hestyess\u00e4\u00e4n he tapasivat Gawaine herran ja Gaheris herran,\njotka olivat luvanneet Arthur kuninkaalle, etteiv\u00e4t ikin\u00e4 palaisi,\nennenkuin toisivat Tristram herran mukanansa.\n\"Palatkaa takaisin\", Lancelot sanoi, \"sill\u00e4 teid\u00e4n etsint\u00e4nne on\nsuoritettu, minulla on mukanani Tristram herra. Katsokaa, t\u00e4ss\u00e4 h\u00e4n\non!\"\nSilloin Gawaine herra riemastui. \"Te olette tervetullut\", h\u00e4n sanoi\nTristramille, \"sill\u00e4 te olette p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4nyt minut suuresta vaivasta.\nMink\u00e4 vuoksi te tulitte t\u00e4h\u00e4n hoviin?\"\n\"Jalo herra\", Tristram sanoi, \"min\u00e4 tulin t\u00e4h\u00e4n maahan Palamides\nherran t\u00e4hden, sill\u00e4 h\u00e4n ja min\u00e4 olimme p\u00e4\u00e4tt\u00e4neet taistella t\u00e4n\u00e4\np\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 kesken\u00e4mme sen hautakiven luona, joka on Camelot virran\nrannalla olevalla niityll\u00e4. Ja sill\u00e4 tapaa sattumalta minun herrani\nLancelot herra ja min\u00e4 kohtasimme toisemme.\"\nSill\u00e4 hetkell\u00e4 tuli Arthur kuningas, ja kun h\u00e4n sai tiet\u00e4\u00e4 ett\u00e4\nTristram herra oli l\u00f6ytynyt, niin h\u00e4n juoksi h\u00e4nen luoksensa ja otti\nh\u00e4nt\u00e4 k\u00e4dest\u00e4 ja sanoi: \"Tristram herra, te olette tervetulleempi,\nkuin kukaan ritari, joka koskaan on tullut t\u00e4h\u00e4n hoviin\", ja niin h\u00e4n\nvei h\u00e4net Py\u00f6re\u00e4n p\u00f6yd\u00e4n luo.\nSitten tuli Guinevere kuningatar ja monta lady\u00e4 h\u00e4nen kanssansa, ja\nkaikki ladyt sanoivat yhteen \u00e4\u00e4neen: \"Tervetultuanne, Tristram herra!\"\n\"Tervetultuanne!\" sanoivat neidot. \"Tervetultuanne!\" sanoivat ritarit.\n\"Tervetultuasi\", sanoi Arthur, \"sin\u00e4, joka olet maailman parhaimpia\nja jaloimpia ritareita ja mies, jolla on suurin maine maan p\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4!\nSill\u00e4 kaikenlaatuisessa mets\u00e4styksess\u00e4 sin\u00e4 olet taitavin; ja sin\u00e4\nolet kaikkien mets\u00e4stykseen ja haukanjahtiin kuuluvien sanojen\nkeksij\u00e4; ja kaikkien soittimien soittamisessa sin\u00e4 olet ensim\u00e4inen.\nSentakia, jalo ritari\", Arthur sanoi, \"sin\u00e4 olet tervetullut t\u00e4h\u00e4n\nhoviin! Viel\u00e4 pyyd\u00e4n sinua, suostu er\u00e4\u00e4seen pyynt\u00f6\u00f6ni.\"\n\"Teen niinkuin k\u00e4skette\", Tristram sanoi.\n\"Hyv\u00e4\", Arthur sanoi, \"min\u00e4 pyyd\u00e4n sinua j\u00e4\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n hoviini.\"\n\"Herra\", Tristram sanoi, \"min\u00e4 en ole halukas niin tekem\u00e4\u00e4n, sill\u00e4\nminulla on tekemist\u00e4 monessa maassa.\"\n\"\u00c4l\u00e4 puhu niin\", Arthur sanoi, \"sin\u00e4 olet luvannut, sin\u00e4 et voi\nkielt\u00e4yty\u00e4.\"\n\"Herra, tahdon tehd\u00e4 niinkuin k\u00e4skette\", Tristram sanoi.\nArthur meni Py\u00f6re\u00e4n p\u00f6yd\u00e4n luo ja katseli kaikkia istuimia, joista\npuuttui ritareita. Silloin kuningas n\u00e4ki Marhaus herran istuimessa\nkirjaimia, jotka sanoivat:\n_\"T\u00e4m\u00e4 on jalon ritarin, Tristram herran istuin.\"_\nNiin Arthur kuningas teki suurella komeudella ja loistolla Tristram\nherran Py\u00f6re\u00e4n p\u00f6yd\u00e4n ritariksi.\nPYH\u00c4N GRAALIN ETSINT\u00c4\nVaarallinen istuin.\nNyt j\u00e4t\u00e4mme Lyonessen Tristram herran ja alamme puhua J\u00e4rven herrasta\nLancelotista ja Galahad herrasta, Lancelot herran pojasta.\nEnnen sit\u00e4 aikaa, jolloin Galahad syntyi, tuli muuan erakko Arthur\nkuninkaan luo helluntaip\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4, kun ritarit istuivat Py\u00f6re\u00e4n p\u00f6yd\u00e4n\nymp\u00e4rill\u00e4. Mutta Py\u00f6re\u00e4n p\u00f6yd\u00e4n \u00e4\u00e4ress\u00e4 oli yksi istuin, joka aina\noli tyhj\u00e4n\u00e4, ja sit\u00e4 kutsuttiin \"Vaaralliseksi istuimeksi\". Kun\nerakko n\u00e4ki t\u00e4m\u00e4n istuimen, niin h\u00e4n kysyi kuninkaalta ja kaikilta\nritareilta, mink\u00e4vuoksi se oli tyhj\u00e4n\u00e4.\n\"Kenk\u00e4\u00e4n ei saa sill\u00e4 istuimella istua turmioon joutumatta, paitsi\nyksi ainoa\", oli vastaus.\n\"Tied\u00e4ttek\u00f6, ken se on?\" erakko kysyi.\n\"Emme\", sanoi Arthur ja kaikki ritarit, \"me emme tied\u00e4, kuka siin\u00e4 on\nistuva.\"\n\"Sitten min\u00e4 tied\u00e4n\", erakko sanoi. \"Se joka siin\u00e4 on istuva, ei\nole viel\u00e4 syntynyt; ja t\u00e4n\u00e4 vuonna se syntyy, joka Vaarallisella\nistuimella istuva on. Ja h\u00e4n on n\u00e4kev\u00e4 Pyh\u00e4n Graalin.\"\nT\u00e4m\u00e4n sanottuaan erakko l\u00e4hti Arthur kuninkaan hovista.\nT\u00e4m\u00e4n juhlan j\u00e4lkeen Lancelot ratsasti seikkailuillaan, kunnes h\u00e4n\nyhten\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 tuli kulkeneeksi yli Corbinin sillan, ja siell\u00e4 h\u00e4n\nn\u00e4ki kauneimman linnan, mit\u00e4 h\u00e4n ikin\u00e4 oli n\u00e4hnyt, ja sen juurella\noli kaunis kaupunki t\u00e4ynn\u00e4 kansaa; ja kaikki kansa, miehet ja naiset,\nhuusivat heti:\n\"Tervetultuasi, J\u00e4rven herra Lancelot, kaiken ritaris\u00e4\u00e4dyn kukka,\nsill\u00e4 sin\u00e4 meid\u00e4t p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4t p\u00e4lk\u00e4h\u00e4st\u00e4mme.\"\nLancelot herra kysyi miksi he sill\u00e4 tapaa h\u00e4nt\u00e4 tervehtiv\u00e4t, ja\nkansa vastasi, ett\u00e4 muuan ihana lady oli julmasti suljettu kuumaan\nhuoneeseen linnantorniin, eik\u00e4 kukaan muu kuin Lancelot herra voinut\nh\u00e4nt\u00e4 vapauttaa. Lancelot herra meni silloin linnaan, ja kun h\u00e4n\ntuli sen kammion edustalle, jossa lady oli, niin rautaovet aukenivat\nitsest\u00e4\u00e4n. H\u00e4n astui huoneeseen, joka oli kuuma kuin uuni ja siell\u00e4\nh\u00e4n n\u00e4ki ihanan ladyn ja tarttui h\u00e4nen k\u00e4teens\u00e4. Noitakeinoillaan\nkuningatar Morgan le Fay ja Pohjois-Walesin kuningatar olivat\npist\u00e4neet lady raukan tuohon kuumaan huoneeseen, syyst\u00e4 ett\u00e4 h\u00e4nt\u00e4\noli kutsuttu sen maan ihanimmaksi naiseksi. Siell\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli ollut\nviisi vuotta, eik\u00e4 voinut p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 vaivastansa ennenkuin maailman paras\nritari ottaisi h\u00e4nt\u00e4 k\u00e4dest\u00e4.\nKun lady n\u00e4ki olevansa pelastettu, niin h\u00e4n pyysi Lancelot\nherraa tulemaan kanssansa kirkkoon kiitt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n Jumalaa h\u00e4nen\npelastuksestansa. Kun t\u00e4m\u00e4 oli tehty ja kun kaikki kansa, oppineet ja\noppimattomat, olivat kantaneet kiitoksensa, sanoivat he Lancelotille:\n\"Herra ritari, koska te olette vapauttanut t\u00e4m\u00e4n ladyn, niin\nvapauttakaa meid\u00e4tkin k\u00e4\u00e4rmeest\u00e4, joka asuu t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 er\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4 haudassa.\"\nLancelot herra otti kilpens\u00e4 ja sanoi: \"Viek\u00e4\u00e4 minut sinne, ja mit\u00e4\nmin\u00e4 voin tehd\u00e4 Jumalan kunniaksi ja teid\u00e4n hyv\u00e4ksenne, sen min\u00e4\nteen.\"\nKansa vei h\u00e4net haudalle, ja siin\u00e4 h\u00e4n n\u00e4ki kultakirjaimilla\nkirjoitettuina n\u00e4m\u00e4t sanat:\n\"T\u00e4nne on tuleva pantteri kuninkaallista sukua ja h\u00e4n on tappava\nt\u00e4m\u00e4n k\u00e4\u00e4rmeen, ja pantterille on syntyv\u00e4 poika, leijona, t\u00e4ss\u00e4\nvieraassa maassa; ja se leijona on voittava kaikki muut ritarit.\"\nLancelot herra nosti yl\u00f6s hautakiven ja ulos sy\u00f6ks\u00e4hti sielt\u00e4 kauhea\nlohik\u00e4\u00e4rme, sylkien tulta suustansa. Lohik\u00e4\u00e4rme lensi Lancelot herran\np\u00e4\u00e4lle, mutta ritari k\u00e4vi sen kimppuun miekallansa ja viimein pitk\u00e4n\ntaistelun per\u00e4st\u00e4 h\u00e4n sai sen suurella vaivalla tapetuksi.\nSilloin saapui Pelles kuningas, tuo hyv\u00e4 ja jalo ritari, ja tervehti\nLancelot herraa ja t\u00e4m\u00e4 h\u00e4nt\u00e4 takaisin.\n\"Jalo ritari\", kuningas sanoi, \"mik\u00e4 on teid\u00e4n nimenne?\"\n\"Herra, minun nimeni on J\u00e4rven herra Lancelot.\"\n\"Ja minun nimeni\", kuningas sanoi, \"on Pelles, t\u00e4m\u00e4n maan kuningas;\nja min\u00e4 olen Josef Arimatialaisen huonetta.\"\nSilloin kumpikin osoitti suurta kunnioitusta toisellensa ja niin he\nmeniv\u00e4t linnaan aterioimaan. Ja heti lensi ikkunasta sis\u00e4\u00e4n kyyhkynen\nja sill\u00e4 n\u00e4ytti olevan nokassansa pieni kultainen suitsutusastia; ja\nsiit\u00e4 levisi sellainen tuoksu huoneeseen, kuin jos siell\u00e4 olisi ollut\nkaikki maailman mausteet ja hyv\u00e4t hajut, ja sitten ilmestyi p\u00f6yd\u00e4lle\nruokaa ja juomaa kaikellaista, mit\u00e4 vain ajatella saattoi.\nSitten astui sis\u00e4\u00e4n neito, erinomaisen nuori ja ihana, ja h\u00e4n kantoi\nkultaista maljaa k\u00e4siens\u00e4 v\u00e4liss\u00e4. Kuningas polvistui hartaasti ja\nsaneli rukouksensa, ja niin tekiv\u00e4t kaikki, jotka siell\u00e4 olivat.\n\"Mit\u00e4 t\u00e4m\u00e4 mahtaa tarkoittaa?\" Lancelot herra sanoi.\n\"T\u00e4m\u00e4 on kaikkein kallisarvoisin kapine, mit\u00e4 kenell\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n\nkuolevaisella olla saattaa\", sanoi Pelles kuningas. \"Ja kun t\u00e4m\u00e4n\nkapineen maine levi\u00e4\u00e4 maailmaan, niin Py\u00f6re\u00e4 p\u00f6yt\u00e4 joutuu h\u00e4pe\u00e4\u00e4n.\nTiet\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4, ett\u00e4 te olette n\u00e4hnyt Pyh\u00e4n Graalin.\"\nPelles kuninkaalla oli tyt\u00e4r, niin ihana lady ja nuori ja viisas kuin\nkukaan siihen aikaan el\u00e4vist\u00e4; h\u00e4nen nimens\u00e4 oli Elaine. Kun Lancelot\nherra tappoi lohik\u00e4\u00e4rmeen, niin Pelles kuningas ymm\u00e4rsi, ett\u00e4 ne\nsanat toteutuisivat, jotka kultakirjaimilla olivat hautakiveen\nkirjoitetut. Sill\u00e4 \"kuninkaallista sukua oleva pantteri\", joka tuli\nvieraaseen maahan, tarkoitti Lancelot herraa itse\u00e4; ja \"leijona\",\njoka oli voittava kaikki muut ritarit, oli Galahad herra, joka ei\nollut kukaan muu, kuin J\u00e4rven herran Lancelotin ja Pelles kuninkaan\ntytt\u00e4ren, Elaine ladyn, poika.\nKuinka Galahad tehtiin ritariksi.\nViisitoista vuotta oli kulunut siit\u00e4 helluntaip\u00e4iv\u00e4st\u00e4, jolloin\nArthur kuningas ja h\u00e4nen ritarinsa pitiv\u00e4t pitoja Camelotissa ja\nerakko oli ennustanut, kuka Vaarallisella istuimella oli istuva. Ja\nkaikki n\u00e4m\u00e4 vuodet oli Vaarallinen istuin seisonut tyhj\u00e4n\u00e4.\nOli taas helluntaiaatto, jolloin koko Py\u00f6re\u00e4n p\u00f6yd\u00e4n ritarikunta oli\nsaapunut Camelotiin uudistamaan juhlalliset lupauksensa ja ottamaan\nosaa pyh\u00e4\u00e4n palvelukseen. P\u00f6yd\u00e4t oli jo asetettu valmiiksi juhlaa\nvarten, kun suoraap\u00e4\u00e4t\u00e4 ratsasti saliin muuan vallasnainen, joka oli\najanut t\u00e4ytt\u00e4 karkua, sill\u00e4 h\u00e4nen hevosensa oli m\u00e4rk\u00e4n\u00e4 hiest\u00e4.\nH\u00e4n astui satulasta ja tuli Arthur kuninkaan eteen ja tervehti h\u00e4nt\u00e4;\nja kuningas sanoi: \"Neito, Jumala sinua siunatkoon!\"\n\"Herra\", neito sanoi, \"min\u00e4 pyyd\u00e4n teit\u00e4 sanomaan minulle, miss\u00e4\nLancelot herra on.\"\n\"Tuolla h\u00e4net n\u00e4ette\", sanoi kuningas.\nSitten neito meni Lancelotin luokse ja sanoi: \"Lancelot herra, min\u00e4\ntervehdin teit\u00e4 Pelles kuninkaan puolesta ja pyyd\u00e4n teit\u00e4 tulemaan\nkanssani t\u00e4h\u00e4n l\u00e4heiseen mets\u00e4\u00e4n.\"\nLancelot herra kysyi h\u00e4nelt\u00e4, kenen hovissa h\u00e4n asui.\n\"Min\u00e4 asun Pelles kuninkaan hovissa\", neito vastasi.\n\"Mit\u00e4 te minusta tahdotte?\" kysyi Lancelot herra.\n\"Saatte tiet\u00e4\u00e4, kun tulette mets\u00e4\u00e4n.\"\n\"Hyv\u00e4\", Lancelot sanoi, \"min\u00e4 tulen mielell\u00e4ni teid\u00e4n mukananne.\"\nNiin Lancelot herra k\u00e4ski asemiehens\u00e4 satuloida ratsun ja tuoda\naseet, ja mies teki niinkuin k\u00e4skettiin.\nSitten tuli Guinevere kuningatar Lancelotin luo ja sanoi: \"Tahdotteko\nte j\u00e4tt\u00e4\u00e4 meid\u00e4t t\u00e4n\u00e4 suurena juhlap\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4?\"\n\"Rouva\", vallasnainen sanoi, \"huomenna p\u00e4iv\u00e4llisen aikaan h\u00e4n on taas\nteid\u00e4n luonanne.\"\n\"Jos en tiet\u00e4isi ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n huomenna taas on t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 meid\u00e4n kerallamme\",\nsanoi kuningatar, \"niin en mielisuosiolla laskisikaan h\u00e4nt\u00e4\nl\u00e4htem\u00e4\u00e4n.\"\nSitten Lancelot herra l\u00e4hti tuon vallasnaisen keralla. He\nratsastivat, kunnes saapuivat mets\u00e4\u00e4n ja suureen laaksoon, jossa he\nn\u00e4kiv\u00e4t nunnaluostarin. Asemies oli valmiina avaamassa portteja,\nja he ratsastivat pihaan ja astuivat alas ratsujensa sel\u00e4st\u00e4, ja\nkaunis joukkue tuli Lancelot herran ymp\u00e4rille ja toivotti h\u00e4net\ntervetulleeksi.\nHe veiv\u00e4t h\u00e4net abbedissan kammioon ja riisuivat h\u00e4nelt\u00e4 aseet\nja varukset, ja siell\u00e4 Lancelot herra tapasi kaksi orpanaansa\nBors herran ja Lionel herran, jotka olivat suuresti iloissaan ja\nkummastuksissaan, kun h\u00e4net n\u00e4kiv\u00e4t.\n\"Herra\", virkkoi Bors herra, \"mik\u00e4 seikkailu sinut t\u00e4nne toi, sill\u00e4\nme luulimme tapaavamme sinut huomenna Camelotissa?\"\n\"Totisesti\", Lancelot herra sanoi, \"er\u00e4s vallasnainen toi minut\nt\u00e4nne, mutta mist\u00e4 syyst\u00e4 en tied\u00e4.\"\nKun he siten seisoivat puhellen kesken\u00e4ns\u00e4, tuli kaksitoista nunnaa,\njotka toivat mukanaan noin viisitoista vuotiaan pojan, niin kauniin\nja solakan, ett\u00e4 tuskin mist\u00e4\u00e4n maailmasta saattoi l\u00f6yt\u00e4\u00e4 h\u00e4nen\nvertaistansa. Ja kaikki naiset itkiv\u00e4t.\n\"Herra\", he sanoivat, \"me tuomme t\u00e4ss\u00e4 teille t\u00e4m\u00e4n lapsen,\nGalahadin, jota me olemme kasvattaneet ja vaalineet, ja me pyyd\u00e4mme\nteit\u00e4 ly\u00f6m\u00e4\u00e4n h\u00e4net ritariksi; sill\u00e4 ansiokkaamman miehen k\u00e4dest\u00e4 h\u00e4n\nei voi ritariarvoa saada.\"\nLancelot herra katseli tuota nuorta asemiest\u00e4 ja n\u00e4ki ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli\nhyv\u00e4n ja hurskaan n\u00e4k\u00f6inen kuin kyyhkynen ja kaikin puolin hyvin\nmuodostunut, niin ettei h\u00e4n mielest\u00e4\u00e4n ollut koskaan n\u00e4hnyt sen\nik\u00e4ist\u00e4 miest\u00e4 niin kaunista kasvoilta ja vartalolta.\nSilloin Lancelot herra sanoi: \"Onko t\u00e4m\u00e4 h\u00e4nen oma toivomuksensa?\"\nJa poika ja kaikki nunnat sanoivat: \"On!\"\n\"Sitten h\u00e4n on saapa ritariuden korkean arvon huomenna suuren juhlan\nkunniaksi\", Lancelot sanoi.\nSin\u00e4 iltana kestittiin Lancelot herraa ylenpalttisen hyvin ja aamun\nkoittaessa h\u00e4n Galahadin pyynn\u00f6st\u00e4 l\u00f6i t\u00e4m\u00e4n ritariksi.\n\"Jumala tehk\u00f6\u00f6n teist\u00e4 hyv\u00e4n miehen\", Lancelot herra sanoi, \"sill\u00e4\nkauneutta ei teilt\u00e4 suinkaan puutu. No, jalo herra, tahdotteko tulla\nminun kanssani Arthur kuninkaan hoviin?\"\n\"En\", sanoi poika, \"en t\u00e4ll\u00e4 hetkell\u00e4 voi tulla teid\u00e4n kanssanne.\"\nNiin Lancelot herra l\u00e4hti luostarista ja otti molemmat orpanansa\nmukaansa ja he tulivat Camelotiin kello yhdeks\u00e4n aikaan\nhelluntaip\u00e4iv\u00e4n aamuna. Sill\u00e4 hetkell\u00e4 kuningas ja kuningatar olivat\nmenneet tuomiokirkkoon jumalanpalvelusta kuulemaan. Kun kuningas ja\nkaikki ritarit tulivat takaisin, niin paroonit n\u00e4kiv\u00e4t ett\u00e4 kaikkiin\nPy\u00f6re\u00e4n p\u00f6yd\u00e4n istuimiin oli kirjoitettu kultakirjaimia -- tuossa\ntuli yhden istua, ja tuossa toisen.\nSiten he kulkivat pitkin tuolirivi\u00e4, kunnes tulivat Vaaralliselle\nistuimelle, miss\u00e4 he n\u00e4kiv\u00e4t kultakirjaimia, \u00e4skett\u00e4in kirjoitettuja,\njotka sanoivat:\n_\"Kun nelj\u00e4sataa ja nelj\u00e4kuudetta vuotta on kulunut meid\u00e4n Herramme\nJesuksen Kristuksen k\u00e4rsimyksest\u00e4, on t\u00e4m\u00e4 istuin t\u00e4yttyv\u00e4.\"_\nSilloin sanoivat kaikki: \"T\u00e4m\u00e4p\u00e4 on ihmeellist\u00e4.\"\n\"Totisesti perin ihmeellist\u00e4\", sanoi Lancelot herra; ja sitten h\u00e4n\nlaski kirjoituksen mainitseman ajanjakson meid\u00e4n Herramme kuolemasta\nsiihen p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4n saakka. \"Minusta n\u00e4ytt\u00e4\u00e4\", h\u00e4n sanoi, \"ett\u00e4 juuri t\u00e4n\u00e4\np\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 t\u00e4m\u00e4n istuimen pit\u00e4isi t\u00e4ytty\u00e4, sill\u00e4 t\u00e4n\u00e4 helluntaijuhlana\ntulee nelj\u00e4sataa ja nelj\u00e4kuudetta vuotta kuluneeksi. Ja jos se on\nkaikkien mieleen, niin min\u00e4 neuvoisin ettei n\u00e4ytett\u00e4isi yht\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n\nn\u00e4ist\u00e4 kirjaimista, kunnes se tulee, joka on t\u00e4ll\u00e4 istuimella\nistuva.\" Sitten he m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4siv\u00e4t tuotavaksi silkkivaatteen noiden\nVaarallisen istuimen kirjainten peitteeksi, ja senj\u00e4lkeen Arthur\nkuningas k\u00e4ski heid\u00e4n kiirehti\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4lliselle.\nSilloin sanoi Kay herra, hovimestari, kuninkaalle: \"Herra, jos te\nmenette nyt aterialle, niin te rikotte hovinne vanhaa tapaa vastaan.\nSill\u00e4 teill\u00e4 ei ole ollut tapana istua p\u00f6yt\u00e4\u00e4n t\u00e4n\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4,\nennenkuin olette n\u00e4hnyt jonkun seikkailun.\"\n\"Se on totta\", kuningas sanoi, \"mutta min\u00e4 iloitsin niin suuresti\nLancelot herrasta ja h\u00e4nen orpanoistaan, jotka ovat tervein\u00e4 ja\nreippaina saapuneet hoviin, ett\u00e4 min\u00e4 en ollenkaan muistanut vanhaa\ntapaani.\"\nKun he siin\u00e4 seisoivat puhelemassa, niin sis\u00e4\u00e4n astui muuan asemies.\n\"Herra\", h\u00e4n sanoi kuninkaalle, \"min\u00e4 tuon teille kummia sanomia.\"\n\"No, mit\u00e4 sitten?\" kuningas sanoi.\n\"Herra, t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 l\u00e4hell\u00e4 Camelot joessa n\u00e4in min\u00e4 ison kiven kelluvan\nveden p\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 ja siihen oli miekka pistettyn\u00e4.\"\n\"Tahdonpa n\u00e4hd\u00e4 sen kumman\", kuningas sanoi.\nNiin kaikki ritarit meniv\u00e4t h\u00e4nen kerallansa, ja kun he tulivat\njoelle, niin ne n\u00e4kiv\u00e4t siin\u00e4 kiven kelluvan, ik\u00e4\u00e4nkuin se olisi\nollut punaista marmoria, ja siihen oli pistettyn\u00e4 kaunis ja komea\nmiekka, jonka kahvassa oli jalokivi\u00e4 ja tasaisilla kultakirjaimilla\nkirjoitettuja sanoja.\nSitten paroonit lukivat sen kirjoituksen, joka sanoi t\u00e4h\u00e4n tapaan:\n_\"Kenk\u00e4\u00e4n ei ole minua t\u00e4st\u00e4 ottava, paitsi se, jonka sivulla minun\non m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4 riippua, ja h\u00e4nest\u00e4 on tuleva maailman paras ritari.\"_\nKun Arthur kuningas n\u00e4ki t\u00e4m\u00e4n kirjoituksen, niin h\u00e4n sanoi Lancelot\nherralle:\n\"Jalo ritari, t\u00e4m\u00e4 miekka tulee teid\u00e4n saada, sill\u00e4 min\u00e4 olen varma\nsiit\u00e4, ett\u00e4 te olette maailman paras ritari.\"\nMutta Lancelot herra vastasi juhlallisesti:\n\"Totisesti, herra, se ei ole minun miekkani; enk\u00e4 min\u00e4 rohkene siihen\nk\u00e4dell\u00e4ni ruveta, sill\u00e4 se ei ole minun sivullani riippumaan aiottu.\nJa se, joka koettaa ottaa tuota miekkaa, eik\u00e4 onnistu, se saa siit\u00e4\nhaavan, josta h\u00e4n ei pitkien aikojenkaan per\u00e4st\u00e4 parane. Ja min\u00e4\ntahdon ett\u00e4 te panette merkille, ett\u00e4 juuri t\u00e4n\u00e4\u00e4n Pyh\u00e4n Graalin\nseikkailu on alkava.\"\nIhmeit\u00e4, yh\u00e4 suurempia ihmeit\u00e4.\nSilloin Arthur kuningas kehoitti veljenpoikaansa Gawaine herraa\nkoettamaan vet\u00e4\u00e4 miekkaa kivest\u00e4. Mutta Gawaine herra sanoi, ettei\nh\u00e4n siihen kykene. Mutta kuningas k\u00e4ski h\u00e4nt\u00e4 yritt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n.\n\"Herra\", Gawaine sanoi, \"koska te k\u00e4skette minua, niin tahdon\ntotella.\" Ja h\u00e4n tarttui samassa miekan kahvaan, mutta h\u00e4n ei voinut\nsit\u00e4 liikahuttaa.\n\"Kiit\u00e4n teit\u00e4\", kuningas sanoi.\n\"Gawaine herra\", Lancelot sanoi, \"tiet\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4 nyt, ett\u00e4 t\u00e4m\u00e4 miekka on\nteit\u00e4 satuttava niin vaikeasti, ett\u00e4 te toivotte, ett'ette ikin\u00e4\nolisi siihen k\u00e4tt\u00e4nne pannut, vaikka olisitte saanut parhaimman\nlinnan t\u00e4ss\u00e4 valtakunnassa.\"\n\"Enh\u00e4n voinut vastustaa enoni tahtoa ja k\u00e4sky\u00e4\", Gawaine herra\nvirkkoi.\nKun Arthur kuningas kuuli sen, niin h\u00e4n katui kovasti sit\u00e4 mit\u00e4 h\u00e4n\noli tehnyt, mutta pyysi kuitenkin Percival herraakin sit\u00e4 koettamaan.\n\"Vallan halusta, tehd\u00e4kseni seuraa Gawaine herralle\", vastasi\nPercival herra, ja samalla h\u00e4n laski k\u00e4tens\u00e4 miekkaan ja veti\nsit\u00e4 voimakkaasti, mutta h\u00e4n ei saanut sit\u00e4 liikkumaan. Ja sitten\nsiell\u00e4 oli viel\u00e4 muitakin, jotka uskalsivat olla niin rohkeita ett\u00e4\ntarttuivat siihen k\u00e4sill\u00e4ns\u00e4.\n\"Nyt te saatte menn\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4llisellenne\", Kay herra sanoi kuninkaalle,\n\"sill\u00e4 te olette nyt n\u00e4hnyt ihmeellisen seikkailun.\"\nNiin kuningas ja kaikki palasivat palatsiin, ja jokainen ritari\ntunsi oman paikkansa ja istui siihen, ja nuoret miehet, jotka olivat\nritareita, palvelivat heit\u00e4.\nKun kaikki olivat saaneet ruokaa ja istuimet olivat t\u00e4ytetyt, paitsi\nVaarallinen istuin, niin \u00e4kki\u00e4 sattui kummallinen tapaus -- kaikki\novet ja ikkunat sulkeutuivat. Mutta sali ei kuitenkaan paljoa\npimennyt, ja he h\u00e4mm\u00e4styiv\u00e4t kovasti joka ainoa.\nArthur kuningas alkoi ensiksi puhua.\n\"Jalot toverit ja lordit\", h\u00e4n sanoi, \"me olemme t\u00e4n\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 n\u00e4hneet\nihmeit\u00e4, mutta min\u00e4 luulen ett\u00e4 ennen iltaa saamme n\u00e4hd\u00e4 viel\u00e4\nsuurempia ihmeit\u00e4.\"\nSill\u00e4v\u00e4lin tuli sis\u00e4\u00e4n muuan vanhus, sangen i\u00e4k\u00e4s, kokonaan\nvalkoiseen puettuna, eik\u00e4 kukaan ritari tiet\u00e4nyt mist\u00e4 h\u00e4n tuli. H\u00e4n\ntoi mukanaan nuoren ritarin, joka my\u00f6skin kulki jalkaisin, punaisissa\nvaruksissa, ilman miekkaa tai kilpe\u00e4, vain huotra riippumassa h\u00e4nen\nsivullaan.\n\"Rauha olkoon teille, lordit!\" vanhus sanoi. Sitten Arthurille:\n\"Herra, min\u00e4 tuon t\u00e4ss\u00e4 nuoren ritarin, joka on kuninkaallista\nsyntyper\u00e4\u00e4 ja Josef Arimatialaisen sukua, ja t\u00e4m\u00e4n kautta t\u00e4m\u00e4n hovin\nja vieraiden valtakuntien ihmeet lopullisesti t\u00e4ytet\u00e4\u00e4n.\"\nKuningas ihastui suuresti h\u00e4nen sanoistansa ja sanoi vanhukselle:\n\"Herra, te olette sangen tervetullut, ja samoin se nuori ritari, joka\non teid\u00e4n kanssanne.\"\nVanhus antoi silloin nuoren ritarin riisua varuksensa ja niiden alla\nh\u00e4nell\u00e4 oli punaiset silkkivaatteet ja vanhus pani h\u00e4nen hartioilleen\nk\u00e4rp\u00e4nnahalla vuoratun viitan. Sitten h\u00e4n sanoi nuorelle ritarille:\n\"Herra, seuraa minua\", ja vei h\u00e4net suoraan Vaaralliselle istuimelle,\njonka vieress\u00e4 istui Lancelot herra. Vanhus nosti pois silkkivaatteen\nja sen alla h\u00e4n n\u00e4ki kirjaimia, jotka sanoivat n\u00e4in:\n\"T\u00e4m\u00e4 on korkean ruhtinaan, Galahadin istuin.\"\n\"Herra, tiet\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4 ett\u00e4 t\u00e4m\u00e4 paikka on teid\u00e4n\", vanhus sanoi ja asetti\nh\u00e4net vakavasti istumaan istuimelle.\nSitten nuori ritari sanoi vanhukselle: \"Herra, te saatte nyt palata,\nsill\u00e4 te olette hyvin tehnyt sen mit\u00e4 teid\u00e4n oli k\u00e4sketty tehd\u00e4. Ja\nsulkekaa minut isois\u00e4ni Pelles kuninkaan suosioon ja sanokaa h\u00e4nelle\nminun puolestani, ett\u00e4 min\u00e4 tulen h\u00e4nt\u00e4 katsomaan niin pian kuin vain\nsaatan.\"\nNiin tuo kunnon mies l\u00e4hti, ja h\u00e4nt\u00e4 oli odottamassa kaksikymment\u00e4\njaloa asemiest\u00e4 ja he ottivat ratsunsa ja meniv\u00e4t menojaan.\nKaikki Py\u00f6re\u00e4n p\u00f6yd\u00e4n ritarit ihmetteliv\u00e4t suuresti Galahadia, kun\nh\u00e4n oli uskaltanut istua Vaaralliselle istuimelle ja oli niin hento\ni\u00e4lt\u00e4ns\u00e4. He eiv\u00e4t tiet\u00e4neet mist\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli tullut, muuta kuin ett\u00e4\nJumala oli h\u00e4net l\u00e4hett\u00e4nyt, ja he sanoivat:\n\"T\u00e4m\u00e4n ritarin kautta Pyh\u00e4n Graalin seikkailu suoritetaan, sill\u00e4 ei\nikin\u00e4 kukaan muu, paitsi h\u00e4n, ole istunut tuolla paikalla ilman ett\u00e4\nh\u00e4nen on k\u00e4ynyt huonosti.\"\nMutta Lancelot herra katseli poikaansa ja iloitsi h\u00e4nest\u00e4 suuresti.\n\"Niin totta kuin el\u00e4n, tuo nuori ritari on p\u00e4\u00e4sev\u00e4 suureen kunniaan\",\nBors herra sanoi kumppaneilleen.\nKaikkialla palatsissa nousi suuri h\u00e4lin\u00e4, niin ett\u00e4 uutiset saapuivat\nGuinevere kuningattarenkin kuuluviin. H\u00e4n ihmetteli kuka ritari\nsaattoi uskaltaa istua Vaarallisella istuimella. Silloin h\u00e4nelle\nsanottiin, ett\u00e4 tuo ritari oli hyvin Lancelot herran n\u00e4k\u00f6inen.\n\"Voin sangen hyvin mieless\u00e4ni kuvitella\", kuningatar sanoi, \"ett\u00e4\nh\u00e4n on Lancelot herran ja Pelles kuninkaan tytt\u00e4ren poika ja h\u00e4nen\nnimens\u00e4 on Galahad. Tahtoisinpa halusta n\u00e4hd\u00e4 h\u00e4nt\u00e4, sill\u00e4 h\u00e4n on\nvarmaankin jalo mies, sill\u00e4 sellainen on h\u00e4nen is\u00e4ns\u00e4.\"\nKun ateria oli sy\u00f6ty ja Arthur kuningas ja kaikki muut ritarit\nnousseet p\u00f6yd\u00e4st\u00e4, niin kuningas meni Vaarallisen istuimen luo ja\nnosti peitteen ja n\u00e4ki siin\u00e4 Galahadin nimen. H\u00e4n n\u00e4ytti sit\u00e4 Galahad\nherralle ja sanoi:\n\"Jalo orpana, nyt on joukossamme Galahad herra, joka on tuottava\nkunniaa meille kaikille; ja totisesti h\u00e4n on saavuttava Pyh\u00e4n\nGraalin, niinkuin Lancelot herra on meille sanonut.\"\nSitten Arthur kuningas meni Galahadin luo ja sanoi: \"Herra te olette\ntervetullut, sill\u00e4 te olette saava monta uljasta ritaria l\u00e4htem\u00e4\u00e4n\nPyh\u00e4n Graalin etsint\u00e4\u00e4n, ja te olette tekev\u00e4 sen mit\u00e4 ei yksik\u00e4\u00e4n\nritari ole voinut.\" Sitten kuningas otti h\u00e4nt\u00e4 k\u00e4dest\u00e4 ja astui alas\npalatsin portaita n\u00e4ytt\u00e4\u00e4kseen Galahadille joessa uiskentelevan kiven.\nKun Guinevere kuningatar sen kuuli, niin h\u00e4n tuli per\u00e4ss\u00e4 useiden\nladyjen kanssa ja n\u00e4ytti heille kiven, joka kellui vedess\u00e4.\n\"T\u00e4ss\u00e4 n\u00e4ette niin suuren kumman, etten koskaan ole n\u00e4hnyt vertaa\",\nArthur kuningas sanoi Galahadille, \"oikein hyv\u00e4t ritarit ovat\nkoettaneet vet\u00e4\u00e4 miekkaa kivest\u00e4, vaan se ei ole heille onnistunut.\"\n\"Herra\", Galahad sanoi, \"se ei ole mik\u00e4\u00e4n ihme, sill\u00e4 t\u00e4m\u00e4 miekka ei\nole heid\u00e4n, vaan minun, ja kun varmasti tiesin t\u00e4m\u00e4n miekan minua\nodottavan, en tuonut mit\u00e4\u00e4n mukanani; sill\u00e4 t\u00e4ss\u00e4 minun sivullani\nriippuu huotra.\" H\u00e4n laski k\u00e4tens\u00e4 miekalle ja v\u00e4h\u00e4ll\u00e4 vaivaa h\u00e4n sen\nveti kivest\u00e4 ja pisti huotraan. \"Nyt se on tekev\u00e4 parempia tekoja,\nkuin ennen.\"\n\"Jumala l\u00e4hett\u00e4\u00e4 teille kilvenkin\", kuningas sanoi.\n\"Nyt minulla on se miekka, jota kerran kantoi uljas ritari, Balin\nRaju\", Galahad sanoi, \"ja h\u00e4n oli ylen taitava mies. T\u00e4ll\u00e4 miekalla\nh\u00e4n surmasi veljens\u00e4 Balanin, jota h\u00e4n ei tuntenut, ja se oli kovin\nsurkeata, sill\u00e4 Balan oli hyv\u00e4 ritari; ja kumpikin he surmasivat\ntoisensa, tiet\u00e4m\u00e4tt\u00e4 ett\u00e4 olivat velji\u00e4, sen tuskia tuottavan haavan\nvuoksi, jonka Balan iski minun isois\u00e4\u00e4ni Pelles kuninkaaseen, joka\nei ole viel\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n parantunut eik\u00e4 paranekaan, ennenkuin min\u00e4 h\u00e4net\nparannan.\"\nSill\u00e4 hetkell\u00e4 kuningas ja kaikki ritarit n\u00e4kiv\u00e4t naisen, joka\nvalkoisen hevosen sel\u00e4ss\u00e4 ratsastaen tuli pitkin joen vartta heit\u00e4\nkohden. Nainen tervehti kuningasta ja kuningatarta ja kysyi, oliko\nLancelot herra heid\u00e4n joukossaan. H\u00e4n vastasi itse: \"T\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 olen,\njalo neito.\"\nSilloin nainen sanoi itkien:\n\"Kuinka teid\u00e4n korkea asemanne onkaan muuttunut t\u00e4m\u00e4n p\u00e4iv\u00e4n aamun\nj\u00e4lkeen!\"\n\"Neiti, miksi te niin sanotte?\" Lancelot virkkoi.\n\"Min\u00e4 sanon totuuden\", neito sanoi, \"sill\u00e4 t\u00e4n\u00e4 aamuna te olitte\nviel\u00e4 maailman paras ritari; mutta joka nyt niin sanoisi, se\nvalhettelisi, sill\u00e4 nyt on ilmestynyt toinen parempi kuin te. Ja\nsen on kyll\u00e4 todeksi n\u00e4ytt\u00e4nyt se ihmeellinen miekka, johon ette\nuskaltanut k\u00e4yd\u00e4 k\u00e4siksi; ja t\u00e4st\u00e4 teid\u00e4n nimenne alkaa himmet\u00e4.\nSenvuoksi min\u00e4 pyyd\u00e4n teit\u00e4 muistamaan, ett\u00e4 te ette t\u00e4st'edes en\u00e4\u00e4\nsaa luulla olevanne maailman paras ritari.\"\n\"Vai niin\", sanoi Lancelot herra, \"mutta min\u00e4 olen aina tiet\u00e4nyt,\netten koskaan ole ollut parhain.\"\n\"Kyll\u00e4 olette ollut\", neito sanoi, \"ja olette viel\u00e4kin paras kaikista\nsyntisist\u00e4 ihmisist\u00e4. Ja, herra kuningas, Nacien erakko l\u00e4hett\u00e4\u00e4\nsinulle sanan, ett\u00e4 sinulle on tapahtuva suurin kunnia kuin koskaan\non tullut kenenk\u00e4\u00e4n Britannian kuninkaan osaksi. Ja min\u00e4 sanon\nsinulle miksi. T\u00e4n\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 Pyh\u00e4 Graal on ilmestyv\u00e4 sinun huoneeseesi\nja ravitseva sinua ja kaikkea Py\u00f6re\u00e4n p\u00f6yd\u00e4n ritarikuntaa.\"\nNiin neito l\u00e4hti ja palasi samaa tiet\u00e4 kuin oli tullutkin.\nViimeiset turnajaiset.\n\"No nyt\", Arthur kuningas sanoi, \"te Py\u00f6re\u00e4n p\u00f6yd\u00e4n ritarit\nvarmaankin kaikki l\u00e4hdette Pyh\u00e4n Graalin etsint\u00e4\u00e4n, enk\u00e4 min\u00e4 saa\nen\u00e4\u00e4 koskaan n\u00e4hd\u00e4 teit\u00e4 kaikkia yhdess\u00e4. Senvuoksi min\u00e4 tahdon\nn\u00e4hd\u00e4 teid\u00e4n kaikkien viel\u00e4 kerran yhdess\u00e4 turnailevan ja tjostaavan\nCamelotin rantaniityll\u00e4, niin ett\u00e4 teid\u00e4n kuolemanne j\u00e4lkeen viel\u00e4\nmainitaan, kuinka Py\u00f6re\u00e4n p\u00f6yd\u00e4n ritarit olivat kaikki koossa sin\u00e4\np\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4.\"\nT\u00e4h\u00e4n kuninkaan pyynt\u00f6\u00f6n he kaikki suostuivatkin ja pukivat ylleen\ntjostaamiseen kuuluvat varuksensa. Mutta kuningas teki t\u00e4m\u00e4n siin\u00e4\ntarkoituksessa ett\u00e4 saisi n\u00e4hd\u00e4 Galahadin n\u00e4ytt\u00e4v\u00e4n taitoaan, sill\u00e4\nkuningas arveli, ettei h\u00e4n hevill\u00e4 palaisi hoviin sielt\u00e4 l\u00e4hdetty\u00e4\u00e4n.\nNiin he kaikki kokoontuivat rantaniitylle, ja kuningatar oli kaikkine\nnaisineen er\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4 tornissa katselemassa turnajaisia. Silloin Galahad\nkuninkaan hartaasta pyynn\u00f6st\u00e4 puki uljaan rautapaidan ylleen ja pani\nkyp\u00e4rin p\u00e4\u00e4h\u00e4ns\u00e4, mutta kilvest\u00e4 h\u00e4n ei huolinut ainoastakaan, vaikka\nkuningas kuinka hartaasti pyysi.\nGawaine herra ja muut ritarit pyysiv\u00e4t h\u00e4nt\u00e4 ottamaan peitsen\nk\u00e4teens\u00e4 ja sen h\u00e4n tekikin. Sitten h\u00e4n asettui keskelle niitty\u00e4 ja\nalkoi katkoa keih\u00e4it\u00e4 niin ihmeellisesti, ett\u00e4 kaikki kummastelivat.\nSill\u00e4 h\u00e4n voitti kaikki muut ritarit ja v\u00e4h\u00e4ss\u00e4 ajassa h\u00e4n oli\nkaatanut maahan monta uljasta Py\u00f6re\u00e4n p\u00f6yd\u00e4n ritaria. Mutta Lancelot\nherraa ja Percival herraa h\u00e4n ei voittanut.\nGuinevere kuningattaren pyynn\u00f6st\u00e4 Arthur kuningas k\u00e4ski h\u00e4nen hyp\u00e4t\u00e4\nalas ratsultaan ja irroittaa kyp\u00e4rins\u00e4, ett\u00e4 kuningatar n\u00e4kisi h\u00e4nen\nkasvonsa. Ja kun kuningatar n\u00e4ki h\u00e4net, niin h\u00e4n sanoi: \"Totisesti\nuskallan vakuuttaa, ett\u00e4 Lancelot herra on h\u00e4nen is\u00e4ns\u00e4, sill\u00e4 ei\nmilloinkaan ole kaksi miest\u00e4 ollut enemm\u00e4n toistensa n\u00e4k\u00f6isi\u00e4; senp\u00e4\nvuoksi ei ole ihme, jos h\u00e4nest\u00e4 tulee miehuullinen ja mahtava ritari.\"\nMuuan lady, joka seisoi kuningattaren vieress\u00e4, sanoi:\n\"Rouva, tuleeko h\u00e4nest\u00e4 oikeuden mukaan niin hyv\u00e4 ritari?\"\n\"Tulee, totisesti\", kuningatar sanoi, \"sill\u00e4 sek\u00e4 is\u00e4ns\u00e4 ett\u00e4\n\u00e4itins\u00e4 puolelta h\u00e4n polveutuu maailman parhaimmista ritareista ja\nkorkeimmasta suvusta. Min\u00e4 uskallan vakuuttaa, ett\u00e4 Lancelot herra ja\nGalahad herra ovat maailman jaloimmat miehet.\"\nSitten kuningas ja kaikki arvon herrat palasivat kotiin Camelotiin,\nja oltuaan iltamessussa suuressa tuomiokirkossa, he meniv\u00e4t\nillalliselle; ja kukin ritari istui omalla paikallaan, niinkuin he\nolivat ennenkin tehneet.\n\u00c4kki\u00e4 he kuulivat ukkosen jyrin\u00e4\u00e4 ja r\u00e4tin\u00e4\u00e4, ik\u00e4\u00e4nkuin se paikka,\njossa he olivat, olisi haljennut. Ja tuon jyryn ja r\u00e4tin\u00e4n keskelt\u00e4\nvalahti huoneeseen auringons\u00e4de, seitsem\u00e4n kertaa kirkkaampi, kuin\nhe koskaan olivat p\u00e4iv\u00e4ll\u00e4 n\u00e4hneet, ja kaikkien heid\u00e4n kasvonsa\npaistoivat taivaallisesta valosta. Silloin alkoivat ritarit katsella\ntoinen toistaan ja joka-ainoa n\u00e4ytti kauniimmalta, kuin koskaan ennen\noli n\u00e4ytt\u00e4nyt. Ei yksik\u00e4\u00e4n ritari saanut pitk\u00e4\u00e4n aikaan puhutuksi\nainoatakaan sanaa ja niin he katselivat vain toisiaan, ik\u00e4\u00e4nkuin\nolisivat olleet mykki\u00e4.\nSilloin tuli saliin Pyh\u00e4 Graal, valkoisella sametilla peitettyn\u00e4,\nmutta ei kenk\u00e4\u00e4n voinut sit\u00e4 n\u00e4hd\u00e4 eik\u00e4 kuka sit\u00e4 kantoi. Ja koko\nsali t\u00e4yttyi hyvill\u00e4 tuoksuilla ja jokainen ritari sai sellaista\nruokaa ja juomaa, mist\u00e4 h\u00e4n enimm\u00e4n piti; ja kun Pyh\u00e4 Graal oli\nkannettu l\u00e4pi salin, niin tuo pyh\u00e4 astia poistui taas \u00e4kki\u00e4, niin\nettei kenk\u00e4\u00e4n tiet\u00e4nyt, minne se joutui.\nSen menty\u00e4 kaikki taas uskalsivat heng\u00e4ht\u00e4\u00e4 ja ruveta puhumaan, ja\nArthur kuningas kiitti Jumalaa siit\u00e4 suuresta armonosoituksesta,\njonka h\u00e4n oli heille l\u00e4hett\u00e4nyt.\n\"Niin\", Gawaine herra sanoi, \"meit\u00e4 on t\u00e4n\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 ravittu\nkaikenlaisella ruualla ja juomalla, mit\u00e4 olemme ajatella saattaneet,\nmutta yksi asia meilt\u00e4 on puuttunut -- me emme ole saaneet n\u00e4hd\u00e4\nPyh\u00e4\u00e4 Graalia, se oli sellaisella huolella peitettyn\u00e4. Senvuoksi\ntahdon min\u00e4 tehd\u00e4 t\u00e4ss\u00e4 pyh\u00e4n lupauksen, ett\u00e4 huomenna olen\nviipym\u00e4tt\u00e4 l\u00e4htev\u00e4 Pyh\u00e4n Graalin etsint\u00e4\u00e4n. Vuoden ja p\u00e4iv\u00e4n olen\nkulkeva ja enemm\u00e4nkin, jos tarvitaan, enk\u00e4 koskaan ole palaava\ntakaisin t\u00e4h\u00e4n hoviin, ennenkuin olen saanut n\u00e4hd\u00e4 pyh\u00e4n astian\nselvemmin, kuin se t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 n\u00e4htiin.\"\nKun Py\u00f6re\u00e4n p\u00f6yd\u00e4n ritarit kuulivat, mit\u00e4 Gawaine herra sanoi, niin\nuseimmat heist\u00e4 nousivat seisomaan ja tekiv\u00e4t samallaisen pyh\u00e4n\nlupauksen kuin Gawaine herra oli tehnyt.\nArthur kuningas oli t\u00e4st\u00e4 suuresti mielipahoissaan, sill\u00e4 h\u00e4n tiesi\nvarsin hyvin, ettei h\u00e4n voinut heit\u00e4 kielt\u00e4\u00e4.\n\"Oi voi\", h\u00e4n sanoi Gawaine herralle, \"te melkein viette minulta\nhengen sill\u00e4 lupauksella ja valalla, jonka olette tehnyt. Sill\u00e4 sen\nkautta te riist\u00e4tte minulta jaloimman veljeskunnan ja uskollisimmat\nritarit, mit\u00e4 koskaan on miss\u00e4\u00e4n maailman valtakunnassa yhdess\u00e4\nn\u00e4hty. Sill\u00e4 kun minun ritarini l\u00e4htev\u00e4t t\u00e4\u00e4lt\u00e4, niin olen varma,\netten en\u00e4\u00e4 koskaan t\u00e4ss\u00e4 maailmassa heit\u00e4 kaikkia yhdess\u00e4 n\u00e4e,\nsill\u00e4 monet heist\u00e4 menett\u00e4v\u00e4t henkens\u00e4 Pyh\u00e4n Graalin etsinn\u00e4ss\u00e4.\nJa min\u00e4 suren sit\u00e4, sill\u00e4 min\u00e4 olen rakastanut heit\u00e4 niinkuin omaa\nhenke\u00e4ni, ja senvuoksi t\u00e4m\u00e4n veljeskunnan hajoaminen minua suuresti\nmurehduttaa.\"\nJa niin sanoessaan h\u00e4nen silm\u00e4ns\u00e4 t\u00e4yttyiv\u00e4t kyynelill\u00e4.\n\"Oi Gawaine, Gawaine\", h\u00e4n sanoi, \"suureen suruun te olette minut\nsaattanut. Sill\u00e4 min\u00e4 pelk\u00e4\u00e4n kovin, ettei minun uskollinen\nritarikuntani en\u00e4\u00e4 milloinkaan ole t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 kokoontuva.\"\n\"Malttakaa mielenne\", Lancelot sanoi, \"sill\u00e4 jos kuolemmekin Pyh\u00e4n\nGraalin etsinn\u00e4ss\u00e4, niin se on oleva meille suureksi kunniaksi, paljo\nsuuremmaksi kuin jos me kuolisimme jossain muussa toimessa; sill\u00e4\nvarhain tai my\u00f6h\u00e4\u00e4n, kuolema meid\u00e4t kuitenkin varmasti tapaa.\"\n\"Ah, Lancelot\", kuningas sanoi, \"se suuri rakkaus, jota min\u00e4 olen\ntuntenut teit\u00e4 kohtaan kaikkina el\u00e4m\u00e4ni p\u00e4ivin\u00e4, saattaa minut\nt\u00e4ten valittamaan. Sill\u00e4 ei milloinkaan ole kenell\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n kristityll\u00e4\nkuninkaalla ollut niin useita arvon miehi\u00e4 p\u00f6yt\u00e4ns\u00e4 \u00e4\u00e4ress\u00e4, kuin\nminulla on t\u00e4n\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 ollut Py\u00f6re\u00e4n p\u00f6yd\u00e4n ymp\u00e4rill\u00e4, ja se on\nminun suuri suruni.\"\nKun kuningatar, ladyt ja vallasnaiset saivat tiet\u00e4\u00e4 n\u00e4m\u00e4 uutiset,\nniin he tulivat niin raskaalle mielelle, ettei sit\u00e4 voi kieli kertoa,\nsill\u00e4 nuo ritarit olivat heit\u00e4 rakastaneet ja pit\u00e4neet kunniassa.\nMutta kaikista enimm\u00e4n suri Guinevere kuningatar.\n\"Minua ihmetytt\u00e4\u00e4\", h\u00e4n sanoi, \"ett\u00e4 minun herrani kuningas sallii\nheid\u00e4n l\u00e4hte\u00e4 luotansa.\"\nNiin koko hovi oli suruissaan noiden ritarien l\u00e4hd\u00f6n vuoksi. Mutta\nmuutamat ladyt, jotka rakastivat ritareita, tahtoivat l\u00e4hte\u00e4\npuolisojensa ja rakastajiensa keralla, ja olisivat tehneetkin niin,\njollei muuan i\u00e4k\u00e4s, hengelliseen pukuun puettu ritari olisi tullut\nheid\u00e4n luoksensa.\n\"Jalot lordit, jotka olette vannoutuneet Pyh\u00e4n Graalin etsint\u00e4\u00e4n\",\nh\u00e4n sanoi, \"Nacien erakko l\u00e4hett\u00e4\u00e4 teille t\u00e4ten sanan, ett\u00e4 \u00e4lk\u00f6\u00f6n\nkenk\u00e4\u00e4n viek\u00f6 lady\u00e4 tai vallasnaista mukanaan, sill\u00e4 se on vaikea ja\nkorkea toimitus. Ja sit\u00e4paitsi sanon teille suoraan, ett\u00e4 se, joka ei\nole puhdas synneist\u00e4, ei saa n\u00e4it\u00e4 salattuja asioita n\u00e4hd\u00e4.\"\nT\u00e4m\u00e4n j\u00e4lkeen kuningatar meni Galahadin luo ja kysyi, mist\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli\nja mist\u00e4 maasta. Galahad sanoi sen h\u00e4nelle.\n\"Ja Lancelotin poikako?\" kuningatar kysyi; mutta siihen Galahad ei\nvastannut mit\u00e4\u00e4n.\n\"Totisesti\", kuningatar sanoi, \"is\u00e4\u00e4nne teid\u00e4n ei tarvitse h\u00e4vet\u00e4,\nsill\u00e4 h\u00e4n on upein ritari ja polveutuu maailman parhaimmista\nsuvuista, molemmin puolin kuninkaallisesta huoneesta. Senvuoksi pit\u00e4\u00e4\nteist\u00e4kin tulla kunnon mies ja oiva ritari, -- ja olette todellakin\nsuuresti h\u00e4nen n\u00e4k\u00f6isens\u00e4.\"\nGalahad tuli hieman h\u00e4milleen ja sanoi:\n\"Rouva, koska te sen varmaan tied\u00e4tte, niin miksi te kysytte? Se,\njoka on minun is\u00e4ni, tulee ajallansa yleisesti tunnetuksi.\"\nSitten he meniv\u00e4t kaikki levolle. Ja suuren ja korkean sukuper\u00e4ns\u00e4\nvuoksi Galahad vietiin Arthur kuninkaan huoneeseen ja h\u00e4n lep\u00e4si\nkuninkaan omassa vuoteessa.\nHeti kun p\u00e4iv\u00e4 koitti nousi kuningas, sill\u00e4 h\u00e4n ei ollut koko y\u00f6h\u00f6n\nsaanut surultansa lev\u00e4tyksi. Sitten h\u00e4n meni Gawainen ja Lancelot\nherran luo, jotka olivat nousseet menn\u00e4kseen kirkkoon.\n\"Oi, Gawaine, Gawaine\", kuningas sanoi, \"te olette pett\u00e4nyt minut.\nSill\u00e4 koskaan ei ole minun hovini entiseen loistoonsa tuleva.\"\nJa kyyneleet alkoivat valua pitkin h\u00e4nen poskiansa. \"Oi, ritari\nLancelot\", h\u00e4n sanoi, \"min\u00e4 pyyd\u00e4n teit\u00e4 neuvomaan minua, sill\u00e4\nmin\u00e4 soisin ett\u00e4 t\u00e4m\u00e4 etsint\u00e4 j\u00e4isi tekem\u00e4tt\u00e4, jos se vain olisi\nmahdollista.\"\n\"Herra\", Lancelot sanoi, \"te n\u00e4itte eilen niin monen arvon ritarin\nsiihen vannoutuvan, ett\u00e4 he eiv\u00e4t mill\u00e4\u00e4n tavalla voi j\u00e4tt\u00e4\u00e4 sit\u00e4\ntekem\u00e4tt\u00e4.\"\n\"Sen tied\u00e4n varsin hyvin\", kuningas sanoi, \"mutta minua surettaa\nheid\u00e4n l\u00e4ht\u00f6ns\u00e4 niin kovin, etten saa mist\u00e4\u00e4n lohdutusta.\"\nSitten kuningas ja kuningatar meniv\u00e4t tuomiokirkkoon.\nLancelot ja Gawaine antoivat miehilleen k\u00e4skyn tuoda heid\u00e4n aseensa\nja kun he olivat t\u00e4ysiss\u00e4 aseissa, paitsi kilpe\u00e4 ja kyp\u00e4ri\u00e4, niin he\nolivat valmiit menem\u00e4\u00e4n tuomiokirkkoon jumalanpalvelusta kuulemaan.\nJumalanpalveluksen j\u00e4lkeen kuningas halusi tiet\u00e4\u00e4, kuinka moni oli\np\u00e4\u00e4tt\u00e4nyt l\u00e4hte\u00e4 Pyh\u00e4n Graalin etsint\u00e4\u00e4n; ja kun laskettiin, niin\nheit\u00e4 saatiin sata ja viisikymment\u00e4, ja kaikki olivat Py\u00f6re\u00e4n p\u00f6yd\u00e4n\nritareita.\nSitten he panivat kyp\u00e4rit p\u00e4\u00e4h\u00e4ns\u00e4 ja l\u00e4htiv\u00e4t ja sulkeutuivat kaikki\nkuningattaren suosioon, ja suuri oli itku ja suru. Ja Guinevere\nkuningatar meni kammioonsa, niin ettei kukaan n\u00e4kisi h\u00e4nen suurta\nmurhettansa.\nLancelot herra kaipasi kuningatarta ja meni h\u00e4nt\u00e4 hakemaan kammiosta,\nja kun kuningatar n\u00e4ki h\u00e4net, niin h\u00e4n parkaisi:\n\"Oi, Lancelot herra, te hylk\u00e4\u00e4tte meid\u00e4t! Te viette minulta hengen,\nkun sill\u00e4tapaa j\u00e4t\u00e4tte kuninkaanne!\"\n\"Armollinen rouva\", Lancelot sanoi, \"min\u00e4 pyyd\u00e4n, ett'ette surisi,\nsill\u00e4 min\u00e4 palaan takaisin niin pian kuin kunniani sallii.\"\n\"Voi\", kuningatar sanoi, \"ett\u00e4 min\u00e4 koskaan teit\u00e4 n\u00e4in! Mutta\nH\u00e4n, joka ristinpuulla k\u00e4rsi kuoleman kaiken ihmiskunnan edest\u00e4,\nH\u00e4n johtakoon ja suojelkoon teit\u00e4, ja samoin kaikkia teid\u00e4n\nkumppaneitanne!\"\nKohta sitten Lancelot herra l\u00e4hti ja tapasi kumppaninsa odottamassa.\nHe nousivat ratsuillensa ja ratsastivat l\u00e4pi Camelotin katujen,\nja kovasti itkiv\u00e4t sek\u00e4 rikkaat ett\u00e4 k\u00f6yh\u00e4t, ja kuningas k\u00e4\u00e4ntyi\npoisp\u00e4in, eik\u00e4 saanut itkultaan puhutuksi.\nNiin Py\u00f6re\u00e4n p\u00f6yd\u00e4n ritarit ratsastivat pois Pyh\u00e4n Graalin etsint\u00e4\u00e4n.\nSin\u00e4 y\u00f6n\u00e4 he lep\u00e4siv\u00e4t er\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4 Vagon nimisess\u00e4 linnassa, jonka herra\noli hyv\u00e4 vanhus ja kestitsi heit\u00e4 parhaansa mukaan. Aamulla he\np\u00e4\u00e4ttiv\u00e4t kaikki erota toisistansa. Ja niin he l\u00e4htiv\u00e4t seuraavana\np\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 ja kukin ritari l\u00e4hti kulkemaan sit\u00e4 tiet\u00e4, mik\u00e4 h\u00e4nest\u00e4\nn\u00e4ytti parhaimmalta.\nGalahad herran valkoinen kilpi.\nGalahad oli yh\u00e4 viel\u00e4 ilman kilpe\u00e4 ja h\u00e4n ratsasti nelj\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4 ilman\nseikkailuja.\nNelj\u00e4nten\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 iltamessun j\u00e4lkeen h\u00e4n tuli valkoisten veljesten\nluostariin, ja siell\u00e4 h\u00e4net otettiin suurella kunnioituksella\nvastaan ja vietiin er\u00e4\u00e4seen kammioon ja riisuttiin h\u00e4nen varuksensa.\nSilloin h\u00e4n huomasi pari Py\u00f6re\u00e4n p\u00f6yd\u00e4n ritaria, toinen oli\nBagdemagus kuningas ja toinen oli Uwaine herra; ja he olivat sangen\nmielihyviss\u00e4\u00e4n h\u00e4net n\u00e4hdess\u00e4ns\u00e4.\n\"Herrat\", virkkoi Galahad, \"mik\u00e4 seikkailu toi teid\u00e4t t\u00e4nne?\"\n\"Olemme kuulleet\", he vastasivat, \"ett\u00e4 t\u00e4ss\u00e4 luostarissa on\nsellainen kilpi, ett\u00e4 kuka vaan sit\u00e4 kantaa kaulallaan, se joutuu\nkolmen p\u00e4iv\u00e4n kuluessa surman suuhun tai tulee raajarikoksi koko\nel\u00e4m\u00e4ns\u00e4 ajaksi.\"\n\"Mutta min\u00e4p\u00e4 kannan sit\u00e4 huomenna koetteeksi\", sanoi Bagdemagus\nGalahadille; \"ja jollen min\u00e4 siit\u00e4 kunnialla suoriudu, niin te saatte\nottaa sen kaulallenne, sill\u00e4 teille se varmaan onnistuu.\"\n\"Tehd\u00e4\u00e4n niin\", Galahad sanoi, \"sill\u00e4 minulla ei ole kilpe\u00e4.\"\nAamulla he nousivat, ja kuunneltuaan jumalanpalvelusta kysyi\nBagdemagus kuningas, miss\u00e4 tuo kummallinen kilpi oli. Muuan munkki\nvei h\u00e4net heti alttarin taakse, miss\u00e4 kilpi riippui. Se oli valkoinen\nkuin lumi, mutta keskell\u00e4 oli punainen risti.\n\"Herra\", munkki virkkoi, \"t\u00e4m\u00e4n kilven ei ole m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4 riippua kenenk\u00e4\u00e4n\nritarin kaulalla, paitsi sen, joka on maailman parhain ritari;\nsenvuoksi min\u00e4 kehoitan teit\u00e4 tarkoin miettim\u00e4\u00e4n, ennenkuin siihen\nkoskette.\"\n\"Hyv\u00e4 on\", virkkoi Bagdemagus kuningas, \"tied\u00e4n kyll\u00e4, etten ole\nmaailman paras ritari, mutta sent\u00e4\u00e4n tahdon koettaa sit\u00e4 kantaa.\"\nJa h\u00e4n kantoi kilven ulos luostarista ja sanoi Galahadille: \"Jos\nsallitte, niin pyyd\u00e4n teit\u00e4 odottamaan t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4, kunnes saatte tiet\u00e4\u00e4,\nkuinka minun k\u00e4y.\"\n\"Tahdon odottaa teit\u00e4 t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4\", virkkoi Galahad.\nBagdemagus kuningas otti mukaansa asemiehen, jotta t\u00e4m\u00e4 heti toisi\nGalahadille tiedon, kuinka k\u00e4vi. Kun he olivat ratsastaneet l\u00e4hes\nkaksi penikulmaa, he tulivat kauniiseen laaksoon erakon asumuksen\nedustalle, ja sielt\u00e4 he n\u00e4kiv\u00e4t tulevan upean ritarin, joka oli\nratsuineen p\u00e4ivineen valkoisissa varuksissa. H\u00e4n tuli niin vinhaan\nkuin h\u00e4nen ratsunsa vain saattoi, peitsi tanassa, ja Bagdemagus\nkuningas suuntasi peitsens\u00e4 h\u00e4nt\u00e4 kohden ja katkaisi sen valkoista\nritaria vastaan. Mutta tuo toinen iski h\u00e4nt\u00e4 niin kovaa, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n\nmurskasi panssarin, ja pisti h\u00e4nt\u00e4 oikean olan l\u00e4pi, sill\u00e4 juuri\nsiin\u00e4 kilpi ei h\u00e4nt\u00e4 suojannut, ja heitti h\u00e4net maahan.\nSitten ritari hypp\u00e4si ratsunsa sel\u00e4st\u00e4 ja otti valkoisen kilven\nBagdemagukselta, sanoen:\n\"Ritari, sin\u00e4 olet menetellyt sangen rikollisesti, sill\u00e4 t\u00e4t\u00e4 kilpe\u00e4\nei pid\u00e4 kenenk\u00e4\u00e4n muun kantaman kuin sen, jolla ei ole vertaistaan\nel\u00e4vien joukossa.\"\nSitten h\u00e4n tuli Bagdemagus kuninkaan asemiehen luo ja virkkoi: \"Vie\nt\u00e4m\u00e4 kilpi Galahad herralle, jonka j\u00e4tit luostariin, ja tervehdi\nh\u00e4nt\u00e4 minulta.\"\n\"Herra\", asemies sanoi, \"mik\u00e4 on teid\u00e4n nimenne?\"\n\"\u00c4l\u00e4 sin\u00e4 huoli minun nimest\u00e4ni\", ritari virkkoi, \"sill\u00e4 sinun ei\nsit\u00e4 tarvitse tiet\u00e4\u00e4, eik\u00e4 kenenk\u00e4\u00e4n muunkaan kuolevaisen.\"\n\"Mutta jalo herra\", virkkoi asemies, \"sanokaa minulle taivaan t\u00e4hden,\nmink\u00e4 vuoksi t\u00e4t\u00e4 kilpe\u00e4 ei saa kukaan kantaa turmioon joutumatta.\"\n\"Koska sin\u00e4 minua siten vannotat\", ritari sanoi, \"niin t\u00e4t\u00e4 kilpe\u00e4 ei\nsaa kantaa kukaan muu kuin Galahad herra.\"\nAsemies meni Bagdemagus kuninkaan luo ja kysyi, oliko h\u00e4n vaikeasti\nhaavoittunut vai eik\u00f6.\n\"Olen totta tosiaankin\", t\u00e4m\u00e4 vastasi, \"tuskinpa henkiin j\u00e4\u00e4n.\"\nAsemies nouti h\u00e4nen ratsunsa ja vei h\u00e4net suurella vaivalla er\u00e4\u00e4seen\nluostariin. Siell\u00e4 riisuttiin varovasti h\u00e4nen varuksensa ja h\u00e4net\npantiin vuoteeseen ja h\u00e4nen haavansa tarkastettiin. Ja siell\u00e4 h\u00e4n\nmakasi pitk\u00e4n aikaa ja tuskinpa h\u00e4n eloon j\u00e4i.\nAsemies vei kilven Galahadille ja sanoi h\u00e4nelle ritarin tervehdykset.\n\"Kiitetty olkoon Jumala ja sallimus\", Galahad virkkoi. Sitten h\u00e4n\notti varuksensa ja nousi ratsulleen ja ripusti valkoisen kilven\nkaulalleen ja sanoi heille hyv\u00e4sti. Uwaine herra sanoi haluavansa\ntehd\u00e4 h\u00e4nelle seuraa, jos h\u00e4n sallisi, mutta Galahad vastasi,\nettei h\u00e4n voinut sit\u00e4 sallia, sill\u00e4 h\u00e4nen tuli kulkea yksin,\nlukuunottamatta asemiest\u00e4, joka kulkisi h\u00e4nen mukanaan.\nKotvan per\u00e4st\u00e4 Galahad herra saapui erakon asumukselle, ja siell\u00e4 oli\nvalkoinen ritari h\u00e4nt\u00e4 odottamassa. Kumpikin tervehti kohteliaasti\ntoinen toistansa ja sitten tuo outo ritari kertoi h\u00e4nelle valkoisen\nkilven tarinan.\nSen oli tehnyt yli nelj\u00e4sataa vuotta sitten Josef Arimatialainen\ner\u00e4\u00e4lle Evelake nimiselle kuninkaalle, joka oli sodassa saraseenien\nkanssa. Er\u00e4\u00e4n suuren taistelun aattona Josef Arimatialainen meni\nEvelake kuninkaan luo ja selitti h\u00e4nelle kristinuskon oikean mielen,\nja silloin Evelake suostui kaikesta syd\u00e4mest\u00e4\u00e4n kristinuskoon. Sitten\nt\u00e4m\u00e4 kilpi tehtiin Evelake kuninkaalle, ja sen kautta h\u00e4n sai voiton\nvihollisistansa. Sill\u00e4 kun h\u00e4n meni taisteluun, niin kilpi oli\nverhottu vaatteella, ja kun h\u00e4n n\u00e4ki olevansa suurimmassa vaarassa,\nniin h\u00e4n veti pois vaatteen ja silloin h\u00e4nen vihollisensa n\u00e4kiv\u00e4t\nristin, ja masentuivat.\nSen j\u00e4lkeen tapahtui kummallinen ihme, sill\u00e4 kilven risti katosi,\nniin ettei kenk\u00e4\u00e4n tiennyt minne se joutui.\nSodan loputtua Evelake kuningas kastettiin, ja samoin suurin osa\nh\u00e4nen kaupunkinsa kansaa. Ja kun Josef Arimatialainen l\u00e4hti, niin\nEvelake kuningas tahtoi v\u00e4ltt\u00e4m\u00e4tt\u00e4 l\u00e4hte\u00e4 h\u00e4nen kanssansa. Niin\ntapahtui ett\u00e4 he tulivat t\u00e4h\u00e4n maahan, jota siihen aikaan kutsuttiin\nSuureksi Britanniaksi.\nEi kauan sen j\u00e4lkeen Josef Arimatialainen sairastui ja oli\nkuolemaisillaan.\nEvelake kuningas oli syv\u00e4sti murheissaan ja pyysi h\u00e4nt\u00e4 j\u00e4tt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n\njotain muistomerkki\u00e4.\n\"Sen tahdon mielell\u00e4ni tehd\u00e4\", virkkoi tuo pyh\u00e4 mies, ja h\u00e4n k\u00e4ski\nh\u00e4nen tuoda kilven, joka nyt oli aivan valkoinen. Sitten omalla\nverell\u00e4\u00e4n Josef Arimatialainen piirsi siihen punaisen ristin.\n\"Nyt teill\u00e4 on muistomerkki siit\u00e4, ett\u00e4 min\u00e4 teit\u00e4 rakastan\", h\u00e4n\nvirkkoi, \"sill\u00e4 te ette milloinkaan n\u00e4e t\u00e4t\u00e4 kilpe\u00e4 ilman ett\u00e4 minua\najattelette. Ja se on pysyv\u00e4 aina yht\u00e4 tuoreena kuin se nyt on. Eik\u00e4\nkonsanaan ole t\u00e4t\u00e4 kilpe\u00e4 kukaan katumatta kaulallaan kantava, kunnes\nse aika tulee, jolloin Galahad, tuo hyv\u00e4 ritari, ja viimeinen minun\nsukuani, sit\u00e4 on kantava ja tekev\u00e4 monta ihmeellist\u00e4 mainety\u00f6t\u00e4.\"\nSilloin virkkoi Evelake kuningas: \"Minne min\u00e4 nyt panen t\u00e4m\u00e4n kilven,\nett\u00e4 se jalo ritari sen saisi?\"\n\"Teid\u00e4n tulee vied\u00e4 se sinne, minne Nacien erakko haudataan\nkuolemansa j\u00e4lkeen. Sill\u00e4 sinne se jalo ritari on tuleva viidenten\u00e4\np\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 sen j\u00e4lkeen, kun h\u00e4n on ritariarvon saanut.\"\n\"Ja se p\u00e4iv\u00e4, jonka h\u00e4n m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4si, on t\u00e4m\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4, jolloin te olette\nsaanut kilven\", ritari sanoi Galahadille. \"Ja siin\u00e4 samassa\nluostarissa lep\u00e4\u00e4 Nacien erakko. Ja te olette tytt\u00e4ren poika Pelles\nkuninkaalle, joka on Josef Arimatialaisen sukua.\"\nJa sen sanottuaan valkoinen ritari katosi.\nKummallinen kultakruunu.\nHeti kun asemies kuuli, mit\u00e4 valkoinen ritari sanoi Galahadille,\nhypp\u00e4si h\u00e4n alas hevosensa sel\u00e4st\u00e4 ja polvistui Galahadin jalkojen\njuureen ja pyysi ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n saisi kulkea h\u00e4nen kerallaan, kunnes\nGalahad olisi tehnyt h\u00e4net ritariksi. \"Ja sit\u00e4 arvoa olen Jumalan\navulla kunniassa pit\u00e4v\u00e4\", h\u00e4n lis\u00e4si. Niin Galahad herra suostui\nh\u00e4nen anomukseensa. Sitten he palasivat siihen luostariin, josta\nolivat tulleet, ja suuresti iloittiin Galahad herrasta, ja siell\u00e4 he\nlep\u00e4siv\u00e4t sen y\u00f6t\u00e4.\nAamulla Galahad ritaroitsi asemiehen, ja kysyi h\u00e4nen nime\u00e4ns\u00e4 ja\nmist\u00e4 suvusta h\u00e4n polveusi.\n\"Herra\", t\u00e4m\u00e4 virkkoi, \"ihmiset kutsuvat minua Saaren Meliaaksi ja\nmin\u00e4 olen Denmarkin kuninkaan poika.\"\n\"Vai niin, jalo herra\", Galahad virkkoi, \"koska te polveudutte\nkuninkaista ja kuningattarista, niin katsokaa ett\u00e4 kunnialla kannatte\nritariarvoa, sill\u00e4 teist\u00e4 pit\u00e4\u00e4 tulla kaiken ritariuden esikuva.\"\n\"Herra, te puhutte totta\", Melias virkkoi. \"Mutta koska te olette\ntehnyt minut ritariksi, niin teid\u00e4n pit\u00e4\u00e4 suostua minun ensim\u00e4iseen\npyynt\u00f6\u00f6ni, jos se on kohtuullinen.\"\n\"Se on totta\", Galahad sanoi.\n\"Sallitteko sitten minun ratsastaa kerallanne Pyh\u00e4\u00e4 Graalia\netsim\u00e4\u00e4n?\" kysyi Melias.\nJa Galahad suostui siihen.\nMelias herralle tuotiin sitten varukset, peitsi ja ratsu, mutta\nGalahad herra ja h\u00e4n saivat ratsastaa koko viikon, ennenkuin\nkohtasivat mit\u00e4\u00e4n seikkailuja.\nEr\u00e4\u00e4n\u00e4 maanantaina aamulla varhain, l\u00e4hdetty\u00e4\u00e4n er\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 luostarista,\nhe tulivat ristille, josta l\u00e4hti kaksi tiet\u00e4, ja siin\u00e4 ristiss\u00e4 oli\nkirjoitus, joka kuului n\u00e4in:\n\"Te vaeltavat ritarit, jotka etsitte seikkailuja, t\u00e4ss\u00e4 n\u00e4ette kaksi\ntiet\u00e4: toista tiet\u00e4 kiellet\u00e4\u00e4n kulkemasta, sill\u00e4 kenk\u00e4\u00e4n ei ole silt\u00e4\ntielt\u00e4 palaava, jollei h\u00e4n ole hyv\u00e4 mies ja uljas ritari; ja se joka\nkulkee t\u00e4t\u00e4 vasemmalla k\u00e4dell\u00e4 olevaa tiet\u00e4, ei my\u00f6sk\u00e4\u00e4n helposti\nvoita mainetta, sill\u00e4 pian t\u00e4ll\u00e4kin tiell\u00e4 h\u00e4nt\u00e4 koetellaan.\"\n\"Herra\", Melias sanoi Galahadille, \"sallitteko minun kulkea t\u00e4t\u00e4\nvasemmalla k\u00e4dell\u00e4 olevaa tiet\u00e4, sill\u00e4 min\u00e4 tahtoisin koetella\nvoimiani?\"\n\"Olisi parempi, jos ette sit\u00e4 tiet\u00e4 ratsastaisi\", Galahad virkkoi,\n\"sill\u00e4 minusta tuntuu, ett\u00e4 min\u00e4 selvi\u00e4isin siit\u00e4 paremmin kuin te.\"\n\"Ette suinkaan, herrani, min\u00e4 pyyd\u00e4n, ett\u00e4 te antaisitte minun menn\u00e4\nsit\u00e4 tiet\u00e4.\"\n\"No, menk\u00e4\u00e4 sitten Jumalan nimess\u00e4\", virkkoi Galahad.\nSilloin Melias ratsasti vanhaan mets\u00e4\u00e4n, ja sen kautta h\u00e4n matkasi\nkaksi p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4 ja enemm\u00e4nkin, kunnes h\u00e4n saapui er\u00e4\u00e4lle vehmaalle\nniitylle, jossa oli kaunis oksista tehty maja. Ja h\u00e4n n\u00e4ki majassa\ntuolin, jolla oli eritt\u00e4in hienosti tehty kultainen kruunu. Siell\u00e4\noli my\u00f6s p\u00f6yt\u00e4liinoja levitetty maahan, ja niille oli asetettu monta\nherkullista ruokalajia.\nMelias herra katseli sit\u00e4 kummaa ja ihmetteli. H\u00e4nen ei ollut n\u00e4lk\u00e4,\nmutta h\u00e4nen teki kovasti mielens\u00e4 kultakruunua, ja niin h\u00e4n kumartui,\notti sen k\u00e4teens\u00e4 ja ratsasti tiehens\u00e4. Mutta pian h\u00e4n n\u00e4ki ritarin,\njoka tuli ratsastaen h\u00e4nen per\u00e4ss\u00e4\u00e4n ja huusi:\n\"Ritari, heitt\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4 k\u00e4sist\u00e4nne se kultakruunu, joka ei ole teid\u00e4n, ja\npuolustautukaa!\"\n\"Hurskas taivaan Herra, auta ja varjele juuri ly\u00f6ty\u00e4 ritariasi!\"\nrukoili Melias.\nSitten he hoputtivat ratsujaan, ja tuo toinen ritari pisti keih\u00e4\u00e4ns\u00e4\nMelias herran panssaripaidan ja vasemman kyljen l\u00e4pi, niin ett\u00e4\nt\u00e4m\u00e4 vaipui henkitoreissaan maahan. Ritari otti kultakruunun ja\nmeni tiehens\u00e4, ja Melias herra j\u00e4i maahan makaamaan eik\u00e4 voinut\nliikahtaakaan.\nSilloin sattui kaikeksi onneksi Galahad herra tulemaan sit\u00e4 tiet\u00e4 ja\nh\u00e4n n\u00e4ki Meliaan makaavan maassa kuoleman kieliss\u00e4.\n\"Oi Melias, kuka teid\u00e4t on haavoittanut?\" h\u00e4n virkkoi. \"Olisi ollut\nparempi ratsastaa toista tiet\u00e4.\"\n\"Herra, \u00e4lk\u00e4\u00e4 Jumalan t\u00e4hden j\u00e4tt\u00e4k\u00f6 minua t\u00e4h\u00e4n mets\u00e4\u00e4n kuolemaan\",\nMelias sanoi, \"vaan viek\u00e4\u00e4 minut tuonne l\u00e4heiseen luostariin, ett\u00e4\nvoisin ripitt\u00e4\u00e4 itseni ja saisin taivaallista lohdutusta.\"\n\"Se on tapahtuva\", virkkoi Galahad, \"mutta miss\u00e4 on se, joka teid\u00e4t\nhaavoitti?\"\nSill\u00e4 hetkell\u00e4 Galahad herra kuuli l\u00e4pi puiden \u00e4\u00e4nekk\u00e4\u00e4n huudon:\n\"Ritari, pysy loitolla minusta!\"\n\"Oi, herra, varjelkoon!\" Melias virkkoi, \"tuo se on, joka minut l\u00f6i\ntantereeseen.\"\n\"Herra ritari, tulkaa turmioonne!\" Galahad herra vastasi.\nSitten he kumpikin kannustivat hevosiaan ja sy\u00f6ksyiv\u00e4t yhteen, ja\nGalahad ty\u00f6nsi peitsens\u00e4 niin rajusti vieraaseen ritariin, ett\u00e4 se\nmeni l\u00e4pi t\u00e4m\u00e4n toisen olan ja vei h\u00e4net maahan ratsun sel\u00e4st\u00e4 ja\nsiin\u00e4 putoomuksessa Galahadin peitsi katkesi. Samassa rynt\u00e4si toinen\nritari esiin puiden takaa ja katkaisi peitsens\u00e4 Galahadiin, ennenkuin\nt\u00e4m\u00e4 oli enn\u00e4tt\u00e4nyt k\u00e4\u00e4nty\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n. Silloin Galahad paljasti miekkansa\nja l\u00f6i poikki ritarin vasemman k\u00e4sivarren, ja silloin ritari pakeni.\nAjettuaan h\u00e4nt\u00e4 takaa jonkun matkaa, Galahad herra palasi Meliaan\nluo ja asetti h\u00e4net varovasti ratsulleen, hypp\u00e4si h\u00e4nen taakseen ja\npiti h\u00e4nt\u00e4 syliss\u00e4\u00e4n ja vei h\u00e4net luostariin. Siell\u00e4 h\u00e4nen haavaansa\nhuolellisesti hoidettiin, ja muuan vanha munkki, joka oli entisaikaan\nollut ritarina, sanoi Galahadille, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n toivoi haavan paranevan\nnoin kuudessa viikossa. Galahad herra oli iloinen sen kuullessaan ja\nsanoi ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n j\u00e4isi luostariin kolmeksi p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4.\nKolmen p\u00e4iv\u00e4n kuluttua h\u00e4n sanoi: \"Nyt min\u00e4 tahdon l\u00e4hte\u00e4, sill\u00e4\nminulla on paljon tekemist\u00e4; moni oiva ritari n\u00e4kee sangen paljo\nvaivaa sen asian t\u00e4hden, ja t\u00e4m\u00e4 ritari ja min\u00e4 olimme my\u00f6s Pyh\u00e4\u00e4\nGraalia etsim\u00e4ss\u00e4.\"\n\"Syntiens\u00e4 vuoksi h\u00e4n sill\u00e4 tapaa haavoittui\", virkkoi muuan vanhus.\n\"Ja ihmettelenp\u00e4\", h\u00e4n lis\u00e4si Meliaalle, \"kuinka te uskalsitte ottaa\nvastaan ritariuden korkean arvon, ripitt\u00e4m\u00e4tt\u00e4 itse\u00e4nne synneist\u00e4nne,\nja se juuri oli syyn\u00e4 siihen, ett\u00e4 niin ankarasti haavoituitte.\nSill\u00e4 oikealla k\u00e4dell\u00e4 oleva tie osoittaa meid\u00e4n Herramme Jesuksen\nKristuksen valtatiet\u00e4 ja hurskaasti ja hyvin el\u00e4v\u00e4n ihmisen tiet\u00e4.\nJa se toinen tie osoittaa syntisten ja harhauskoisten tiet\u00e4. Ja kun\nperkele n\u00e4ki teid\u00e4n ylpeytenne ja r\u00f6yhkeys vietteli teid\u00e4t Pyh\u00e4n\nGraalin etsint\u00e4\u00e4n, niin sen t\u00e4hden te jouduitte h\u00e4vi\u00f6\u00f6n, sill\u00e4 sit\u00e4\nty\u00f6t\u00e4 ei saa suorittaa kukaan muu kuin jaloavuinen ihminen.\"\n\"Niin my\u00f6skin ristin kirjoitus tarkoitti taivaallisia tekoja ja\nritarillisia tekoja Jumalan t\u00f6iss\u00e4, eik\u00e4 ritarillisia tekoja\nmaailmallisissa t\u00f6iss\u00e4; ja ylpeys on kaikkien kuolemansyntien p\u00e4\u00e4,\njoka saattoi sinun, Melias, l\u00e4htem\u00e4\u00e4n pois Galahad herran seurasta.\nJa kun sin\u00e4 otit kultakruunun, niin sin\u00e4 teit ahneuden ja varkauden\nsynnin. Ne eiv\u00e4t olleet ritarillisia tekoja. Ne molemmat ritarit,\njoita vastaan Galahad, tuo pyh\u00e4 ritari, taisteli, tarkoittivat niit\u00e4\nmolempia kuolemansyntej\u00e4, ylpeytt\u00e4 ja ahneutta, jotka asustivat\nMelias herrassa, ja he eiv\u00e4t voineet vastustaa Galahad herraa, sill\u00e4\nh\u00e4n on ilman kuolemansyntej\u00e4.\"\nNyt Galahad herra l\u00e4hti heid\u00e4n luotansa ja sanoi heille kaikille\nhyv\u00e4sti.\n\"Herrani Galahad\", Melias virkkoi, \"niin pian kuin vain voin\nratsastaa, olen etsiv\u00e4 teid\u00e4t.\"\n\"Jumala suokoon teille terveytt\u00e4\", virkkoi Galahad, ja otti ratsunsa\nja l\u00e4hti.\nNeitojen linna.\nGalahad herra teki monta p\u00e4iv\u00e4matkaa edes ja takaisin, niinkuin\nsattuma johti h\u00e4nt\u00e4, ja viimein h\u00e4n er\u00e4\u00e4n\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 tuli vuorelle,\njolla h\u00e4n n\u00e4ki vanhan kappelin eik\u00e4 ket\u00e4\u00e4n siell\u00e4 sis\u00e4ll\u00e4, sill\u00e4\nkaikki oli autiota. Sitten h\u00e4n polvistui alttarin eteen ja rukoili\nhyv\u00e4\u00e4 neuvoa, ja rukoillessaan h\u00e4n kuuli \u00e4\u00e4nen, joka sanoi: \"Mene\nNeitojen linnaan, sin\u00e4 seikkailunhaluinen ritari, ja poista sielt\u00e4 ne\nilke\u00e4t tavat.\"\nKun Galahad kuuli sen, niin h\u00e4n kiitti Jumalaa ja otti ratsunsa.\nH\u00e4n oli ratsastanut vain puolen penikulmaa, kun h\u00e4n n\u00e4ki er\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4\nlaaksossa edess\u00e4ns\u00e4 vahvan linnan syvine kaivantoineen; ja sen\nvieress\u00e4 virtasi kaunis joki, Severn nimelt\u00e4, ja siell\u00e4 h\u00e4n kohtasi\noikein vanhan ukon. Kumpainenkin tervehti toistaan, ja Galahad kysyi\nh\u00e4nelt\u00e4 linnan nime\u00e4.\n\"Hyv\u00e4 herra\", h\u00e4n virkkoi, \"se on Neitojen linna.\"\n\"Se on kirottu linna\", virkkoi Galahad, \"ja kaikki ne, jotka ovat sen\nyhteydess\u00e4, sill\u00e4 kaikki armeliaisuus on sen ulkopuolella ja kaikki\njulkeus ja ilkikuri sen sis\u00e4ll\u00e4.\"\n\"Senp\u00e4 vuoksi min\u00e4 neuvon teit\u00e4, herra ritari, k\u00e4\u00e4ntym\u00e4\u00e4n takaisin.\"\n\"Herra, tiet\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4 ett\u00e4 min\u00e4 en saa takaisin k\u00e4\u00e4nty\u00e4\", sanoi Galahad\nherra.\nSitten h\u00e4n tarkasti aseitaan, ettei mit\u00e4\u00e4n h\u00e4nelt\u00e4 puuttunut, ja\nasetti kilpens\u00e4 eteens\u00e4, ja silloin tuli h\u00e4nt\u00e4 vastaan seitsem\u00e4n\nihanaa neitoa.\n\"Herra ritari\", he sanoivat, \"te ratsastatte t\u00e4nne suuressa\nhulluudessa, sill\u00e4 teid\u00e4n on kuljettava virran yli.\"\n\"Miksip\u00e4 en kulkisi virran yli?\" Galahad virkkoi. Ja niin h\u00e4n\nratsasti heid\u00e4n luotansa.\nSitten tuli h\u00e4nt\u00e4 vastaan muuan asemies, joka sanoi:\n\"Herra, t\u00e4m\u00e4n linnan ritarit vaativat sinua taisteluun ja kielt\u00e4v\u00e4t\nsinua menem\u00e4st\u00e4 edemm\u00e4ksi, ennenkuin saavat tiet\u00e4\u00e4, mit\u00e4 sin\u00e4 haluat.\"\n\"Hyv\u00e4 herra, min\u00e4 tulen h\u00e4vitt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n t\u00e4m\u00e4n linnan ilkeit\u00e4 tapoja.\"\n\"Herra, jos sin\u00e4 pysyt siin\u00e4 aikomuksessasi, niin saatpa paljo\ntekemist\u00e4.\"\n\"Menk\u00e4\u00e4 te vain\", Galahad virkkoi, \"ja ilmoittakaa heti is\u00e4nnillenne,\nmit\u00e4 min\u00e4 aion tehd\u00e4.\"\nSilloin asemies astui linnaan. Ja kohta tuli linnasta ulos seitsem\u00e4n\nritaria, jotka olivat kaikki veljeksi\u00e4. Kun he n\u00e4kiv\u00e4t Galahadin, he\nhuusivat: \"Ritari, ole varoillasi, sill\u00e4 hengest\u00e4si me sinut varmasti\np\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4mme!\"\n\"Kuinka, aiotteko te kaikki yhdell\u00e4 haavaa k\u00e4yd\u00e4 minun kimppuuni?\"\nGalahad virkkoi.\n\"Aiomme niinkin\", he vastasivat, \"siit\u00e4 saat olla varma.\"\nGalahad sy\u00f6ksyi heit\u00e4 kohden peitsi tanassa ja sys\u00e4si etumaisen\nmaahan, niin ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n melkein katkaisi kaulansa, ja sen per\u00e4st\u00e4\niskiv\u00e4t toiset veljet Galahadin kilpeen niin rajusti peitsens\u00e4,\nett\u00e4 ne katkesivat. Silloin Galahad paljasti miekkansa ja ahdisti\nheit\u00e4 niin kiivaasti, ett\u00e4 oli oikein ihmeellist\u00e4 sit\u00e4 katsella,\nja sill\u00e4 tapaa h\u00e4n suurella voimallaan pakoitti heid\u00e4t pakenemaan\ntaistelutantereelta. Ja h\u00e4n ajoi heit\u00e4 takaa, mutta he enn\u00e4ttiv\u00e4t\nh\u00e4nen edell\u00e4\u00e4n linnan sis\u00e4\u00e4n ja ajaa karauttivat suoraan l\u00e4pi linnan,\nja p\u00e4\u00e4siv\u00e4t pakoon toisesta portista.\nSiell\u00e4 Galahad herra silloin kohtasi er\u00e4\u00e4n hengelliseen pukuun\npuetun vanhuksen, joka sanoi: \"Herra, t\u00e4ss\u00e4 saat linnan avaimet.\"\nSitten Galahad avasi portit ja silloin paljo kansaa tungeskeli h\u00e4nen\nymp\u00e4rilleen, niin ettei h\u00e4n voinut laskeakaan, kuinka monta niit\u00e4 oli.\n\"Herra\", sanoivat he kaikki, \"te olette tervetullut, sill\u00e4 kauan me\nolemme t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 vapautustamme odottaneet.\"\nSitten tuli h\u00e4nen luokseen muuan vallasnainen. \"Nuo ritarit ovat\nkyll\u00e4 paenneet\", h\u00e4n virkkoi, \"mutta he tulevat t\u00e4n\u00e4 y\u00f6n\u00e4 takaisin ja\nalottavat taas ilkeit\u00e4 tapojansa.\"\n\"Mit\u00e4 te tahdotte minua tekem\u00e4\u00e4n?\" kysyi Galahad.\n\"Ett\u00e4 te l\u00e4het\u00e4tte hakemaan t\u00e4nne kaikki ne ritarit, jotka ovat t\u00e4m\u00e4n\nlinnan vasalleja ja vannotatte heit\u00e4, ett\u00e4 he taas ottavat k\u00e4yt\u00e4nt\u00f6\u00f6n\nne tavat, joita t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 entisaikaan harjoitettiin.\"\n\"Sen teen mielell\u00e4ni\", Galahad virkkoi.\nNainen toi h\u00e4nelle norsunluisen torven, joka oli runsaasti kullalla\nkoristeltu, ja virkkoi: \"Herra, puhaltakaa t\u00e4t\u00e4 torvea; sen \u00e4\u00e4ni\nkuuluu kahden penikulman p\u00e4\u00e4h\u00e4n linnan ymp\u00e4rist\u00f6\u00f6n.\"\nKun Galahad oli puhaltanut torvea, niin h\u00e4n meni lep\u00e4\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n, ja\nsilloin h\u00e4nen luokseen tuli muuan pappi, joka kertoi h\u00e4nelle linnan\ntarinan:\n\"Siit\u00e4 on juuri seitsem\u00e4n vuotta\", h\u00e4n virkkoi, \"kun n\u00e4m\u00e4 seitsem\u00e4n\nveljest\u00e4 t\u00e4h\u00e4n linnaan tulivat ja asettuivat asumaan Lianor herttuan\nluokse, joka oli kaiken t\u00e4m\u00e4n maan herra. Kun he n\u00e4kiv\u00e4t herttuan\ntytt\u00e4ren, joka oli sangen kaunis nainen, niin he olisivat tahtoneet\nkaikki h\u00e4net naida ja lopulta he joutuivat kiivaaseen kahakkaan\nkesken\u00e4ns\u00e4. Herttua olisi hyvyydess\u00e4\u00e4n eroittanut heid\u00e4t, mutta\nkiukuissaan n\u00e4m\u00e4 l\u00f6iv\u00e4t h\u00e4net ja h\u00e4nen vanhimman poikansa kuoliaaksi.\nSitten he anastivat tyt\u00f6n ja kaikki linnan aarteet. Senj\u00e4lkeen he\nsuurella voimallaan pitiv\u00e4t kaikkia t\u00e4m\u00e4n linnan ritareita ankarassa\nkurissa ja kiristyksess\u00e4 ja sen ohella he ry\u00f6stiv\u00e4t ja rosvosivat\nrahvas raukalta kaikki mit\u00e4 sill\u00e4 oli. Niin tapahtui yhten\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4,\nett\u00e4 herttuan tyt\u00e4r sanoi: 'Te olette tehneet minulle suurta\nv\u00e4\u00e4ryytt\u00e4, kun surmasitte minun oman is\u00e4ni ja minun veljeni ja\npid\u00e4tte t\u00e4ll\u00e4 tapaa meid\u00e4n maitamme hallussanne. Mutta te ette saa\npit\u00e4\u00e4 t\u00e4t\u00e4 linnaa monta vuotta, sill\u00e4 tulee ritari, joka teid\u00e4t on\nvoittava.' Siten h\u00e4n ennusti seitsem\u00e4n vuotta sitten. 'Vai niin',\nsanoivat nuo seitsem\u00e4n ritaria, 'koska te niin sanotte, niin ei\nyksik\u00e4\u00e4n lady eik\u00e4 ritari saa kulkea t\u00e4m\u00e4n linnan ohi, vaan on heid\u00e4n\nj\u00e4\u00e4minen t\u00e4nne vastoin tahtoansa, taikka sitten kuoleminen, kunnes se\nritari tulee, jonka kautta me t\u00e4m\u00e4n linnan menet\u00e4mme.' Senvuoksi t\u00e4t\u00e4\nlinnaa kutsutaan Neitojen linnaksi, sill\u00e4 moni kaunis lady on t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4\nperikatoon joutunut.\"\n\"Vai niin\", virkkoi Galahad, \"onko t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 my\u00f6s se neito, jonka t\u00e4hden\nt\u00e4m\u00e4 linna menetettiin?\"\n\"Ei ole\", pappi virkkoi, \"h\u00e4n kuoli ennenkuin kolme y\u00f6t\u00e4 oli kulunut\ntuon ennustuksen j\u00e4lkeen. Ja siit\u00e4 asti nuo ritarit ovat pit\u00e4neet\nvankeudessa h\u00e4nen nuorempaa sisartansa, joka monen muun ladyn kanssa\nt\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 k\u00e4rsii suurta vaivaa ja kidutusta.\"\nSill\u00e4 aikaa maan ritarit olivat saapuneet. Silloin Galahad pani\nheid\u00e4t tunnustamaan valtiaakseen herttuan nuoremman tytt\u00e4ren, joka\nviel\u00e4 oli elossa, ja vannomaan h\u00e4nelle uskollisuudenvalan, ja h\u00e4n\ntyynnytti ja rohkaisi suuresti heid\u00e4n mieli\u00e4\u00e4n. Ja seuraavana aamuna\nmuuan mies toi viestej\u00e4 ett\u00e4 Gawaine, Gareth ja Uwaine olivat\nsurmanneet nuo seitsem\u00e4n veljest\u00e4.\n\"Hyvin tehty!\" Galahad virkkoi ja otti varuksensa ja ratsunsa ja\nsanoi hyv\u00e4sti Neitojen linnalle.\nN\u00e4ky mets\u00e4kappelissa.\nJ\u00e4tetty\u00e4\u00e4n Neitojen linnan Galahad herra ratsasti, kunnes h\u00e4n\nsaapui avaraan mets\u00e4\u00e4n, ja siell\u00e4 h\u00e4n kohtasi Lancelot herran ja\nPercival herran, mutta he eiv\u00e4t tunteneet h\u00e4nt\u00e4, sill\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli \u00e4sken\nmuuttanut pukua. Lancelot herra ratsasti oikop\u00e4\u00e4t\u00e4 h\u00e4nt\u00e4 kohden ja\nkatkaisi peitsens\u00e4 h\u00e4neen ja Galahad herra iski h\u00e4nt\u00e4 niin ankarasti\ntakaisin ett\u00e4 ratsu ja mies kaatuivat maahan. Sitten h\u00e4n veti\nhuotrasta miekkansa ja k\u00e4\u00e4ntyi Percival herraan p\u00e4in ja iski h\u00e4nt\u00e4\nkyp\u00e4riin, niin ett\u00e4 se halkesi ter\u00e4slakkiin asti; jollei miekka olisi\nluiskahtanut syrj\u00e4\u00e4n, niin Percival herra olisi saanut surmansa;\niskun voimasta h\u00e4n nyt suistui maahan.\nT\u00e4m\u00e4 aseleikki tapahtui er\u00e4\u00e4n luostarin edustalla, jossa asui muuan\nerakkonainen, joka oli Percival herran oikea t\u00e4ti, vaikkei h\u00e4n sit\u00e4\nsill\u00e4 hetkell\u00e4 tiet\u00e4nyt. Kun erakkonainen n\u00e4ki Galahadin, niin h\u00e4n\nsanoi: \"Jumala olkoon sinun kanssasi, maailman paras ritari! Oi,\naivan varmaan\", h\u00e4n sanoi kovalla \u00e4\u00e4nell\u00e4, niin ett\u00e4 Lancelot ja\nPercivalkin sen saattoivat kuulla, \"jos nuo molemmat ritarit olisivat\ntunteneet sinut niin hyvin kuin min\u00e4, niin he eiv\u00e4t olisi hy\u00f6k\u00e4nneet\nsinun p\u00e4\u00e4llesi.\"\nKuullessaan h\u00e4nen siten puhuvan, Galahad pelk\u00e4si kovin tulevansa\ntunnetuksi ja ratsasti senvuoksi \u00e4kkipikaa pois. Silloin molemmat\nritarit huomasivat, ett\u00e4 heid\u00e4n voittajansa oli Galahad, ja he\nhypp\u00e4siv\u00e4t ratsuilleen ja karauttivat kiivaasti h\u00e4nen per\u00e4\u00e4ns\u00e4, mutta\nh\u00e4n oli jo poissa n\u00e4kyvist\u00e4. Niin he k\u00e4\u00e4ntyiv\u00e4t takaisin apein mielin.\n\"Kyselk\u00e4\u00e4mme jotain tietoja tuolta erakkonaiselta\", Percival virkkoi.\n\"Tehk\u00e4\u00e4 niin, jos teit\u00e4 haluttaa\", Lancelot virkkoi, mutta kun\nPercival meni erakon asuntoon, niin h\u00e4n jatkoi matkaansa yksin\u00e4\u00e4n.\nRistiin ja rastiin h\u00e4n ratsasti jylh\u00e4ss\u00e4 mets\u00e4ss\u00e4, eik\u00e4 seurannut\nmit\u00e4\u00e4n polkua, vaan kulki sattuman varassa. Viimein h\u00e4n saapui\njykev\u00e4lle ristille, joka osoitti kahta er\u00e4maahan viev\u00e4\u00e4 tiet\u00e4; ristin\nvieress\u00e4 oli kivi, joka oli marmoria, mutta oli niin pime\u00e4, ett\u00e4\nLancelot herra ei voinut sit\u00e4 oikein n\u00e4hd\u00e4.\nLancelot herra katseli ymp\u00e4rilleen, ja l\u00e4hettyvill\u00e4 h\u00e4n n\u00e4ki vanhan\nkappelin, jossa toivoi tapaavansa v\u00e4ke\u00e4. H\u00e4n sitoi ratsunsa puuhun ja\notti kyp\u00e4rin p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4ns\u00e4 ja ripusti oksaan. Sitten h\u00e4n meni kappelin\novelle, mutta n\u00e4ki ett\u00e4 se olikin autio ja tyhj\u00e4. Ja katsoessaan\nsis\u00e4\u00e4n h\u00e4n n\u00e4ki kauniin alttarin, joka oli komeasti koristeltu\npelk\u00e4ll\u00e4 silkill\u00e4, ja alttarilla seisoi loistava kynttil\u00e4njalka,\njossa oli kuusi isoa kynttil\u00e4\u00e4, ja kynttil\u00e4njalka oli hopeasta.\nKun Lancelot herra n\u00e4ki tuon valon, niin h\u00e4nen teki kovasti mielens\u00e4\nmenn\u00e4 kappeliin, mutta h\u00e4n ei l\u00f6yt\u00e4nyt paikkaa, johon olisi astunut,\nja se suretti ja ihmetytti h\u00e4nt\u00e4 suuresti. H\u00e4n palasi ratsunsa luo,\notti pois satulan ja suitset ja antoi sen menn\u00e4 sy\u00f6m\u00e4\u00e4n; sitten h\u00e4n\nirroitti kyp\u00e4rins\u00e4 ja riisui vy\u00f6lt\u00e4\u00e4n miekkansa ja paneutui maata\nkilvelleen marmoriristin eteen.\nNiin h\u00e4n vaipui uneen ja puoleksi valveilla puoleksi unissaan h\u00e4n\nn\u00e4ki n\u00e4yn.\nH\u00e4n n\u00e4ki kulkevan ohitsensa kaksi hevosta, sangen kaunista ja\nvalkoista, jotka kantoivat paaria ja paareilla makasi sairas ritari.\nTultuaan l\u00e4helle risti\u00e4 paarit seisahtuivat, ja Lancelot herra kuuli\nritarin sanovan:\n\"Oi, laupias Jumala, koska p\u00e4\u00e4sen min\u00e4 t\u00e4st\u00e4 vaivasta? Ja koska se\npyh\u00e4 astia on n\u00e4ytt\u00e4ytyv\u00e4, jonka kautta min\u00e4 armon saan? Sill\u00e4 kauan\nolen min\u00e4 t\u00e4t\u00e4 saanut k\u00e4rsi\u00e4 pienen hairahduksen takia.\"\nSill\u00e4 tapaa ritari kotvan aikaa valitteli, ja Lancelot herra kuunteli\nh\u00e4nt\u00e4.\nSitten Lancelot herra n\u00e4ki kynttil\u00e4njalan kuusine vahakynttil\u00f6ineen\ntulevan marmoriristin eteen, eik\u00e4 h\u00e4n n\u00e4hnyt ket\u00e4\u00e4n, joka sit\u00e4\nkantoi. Samoin tuli sinne hopeainen p\u00f6yt\u00e4 ja Pyh\u00e4n Graalin pyhitetty\nastia, jotka Lancelot oli entisaikaan n\u00e4hnyt Pelles kuninkaan\nhuoneessa.\nSamassa sairas ritari nousi ja kohotti molemmat k\u00e4tens\u00e4 ja rukoili\nJumalaa ja polvistuen h\u00e4n suuteli pyh\u00e4\u00e4 astiaa ja hetikohta h\u00e4n\nparani.\n\"Herra Jumala, min\u00e4 kiit\u00e4n sinua, sill\u00e4 min\u00e4 olen parantunut t\u00e4st\u00e4\nsairaudesta\", h\u00e4n virkkoi.\nJa kun Pyh\u00e4 Graal oli ollut ulkona pitk\u00e4n aikaa, se meni taas\nkappeliin kynttil\u00e4njalkoineen ja kynttil\u00f6ineen, niin ettei Lancelot\nherra tiet\u00e4nyt, minne se joutui. Sill\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli oman synnillisyytens\u00e4\ntunnon painama, eik\u00e4 h\u00e4nell\u00e4 ollut voimaa nousta seuratakseen pyh\u00e4\u00e4\nastiaa.\nSilloin sairas ritari nousi ja suuteli risti\u00e4 ja asemies toi h\u00e4nelle\nh\u00e4nen varuksensa ja kysyi, kuinka herransa jaksoi.\n\"Totisesti, Jumalan kiitos, oikein hyvin\", t\u00e4m\u00e4 vastasi, \"pyh\u00e4 astia\nparansi minut. Mutta min\u00e4 ihmettelen suuresti tuota nukkuvaa ritaria,\njolla ei ollut voimaa her\u00e4t\u00e4, kun t\u00e4m\u00e4 pyh\u00e4 astia t\u00e4nne tuotiin.\"\n\"Uskallanpa varmasti vakuuttaa\", virkkoi asemies, \"ett\u00e4 h\u00e4ness\u00e4 asuu\njokin kuoleman synti, jota h\u00e4n ei koskaan ole katunut.\"\n\"Kautta kunniani\", ritari virkkoi, \"ken h\u00e4n lieneekin, onneton h\u00e4n\non; minusta n\u00e4ytt\u00e4\u00e4, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n on Py\u00f6re\u00e4n p\u00f6yd\u00e4n ritareita, jotka ovat\nl\u00e4hteneet Pyh\u00e4n Graalin etsint\u00e4\u00e4n.\"\n\"Herra\", virkkoi asemies, \"kas t\u00e4ss\u00e4 ovat kaikki teid\u00e4n aseenne\npaitsi kyp\u00e4ri\u00e4nne ja miekkaanne, ja senvuoksi te minun mielest\u00e4ni\nvoisitte nyt ottaa tuon ritarin kyp\u00e4rin ja miekan.\"\nNiin ritari teki sen; ja kun h\u00e4n oli t\u00e4ysiss\u00e4 aseissa, niin h\u00e4n otti\nmy\u00f6s Lancelot herran ratsun, sill\u00e4 se oli parempi kuin h\u00e4nen omansa.\nJa niin h\u00e4n ja h\u00e4nen seuralaisensa l\u00e4htiv\u00e4t ristilt\u00e4.\nLancelot herran katumus.\nSilloin Lancelot herra her\u00e4si heti ja nousi ja mietti mieless\u00e4\u00e4n,\nmit\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli n\u00e4hnyt ja oliko se unta vai ei. Samassa h\u00e4n kuuli \u00e4\u00e4nen,\njoka sanoi:\n\"Lancelot, sin\u00e4 olet kovempi kuin kivi ja kitker\u00e4mpi kuin on puu ja\npaljaampi ja kuivempi kuin on viikunapuu! L\u00e4hde senvuoksi t\u00e4\u00e4lt\u00e4 ja\npoistu t\u00e4st\u00e4 pyh\u00e4st\u00e4 paikasta.\"\nKun Lancelot herra kuuli sen, niin h\u00e4nen mielens\u00e4 k\u00e4vi kovin apeaksi,\neik\u00e4 h\u00e4n tiet\u00e4nyt mit\u00e4 tehd\u00e4; niin h\u00e4n nousi katkerasti itkien ja\nkirosi sit\u00e4 hetke\u00e4, jolloin oli syntynyt, sill\u00e4 h\u00e4n luuli, ettei\nh\u00e4n koskaan en\u00e4\u00e4 p\u00e4\u00e4sisi kunniaan. Sill\u00e4 nuo sanat tunkivat h\u00e4nen\nsyd\u00e4meens\u00e4, ja viimein h\u00e4n ymm\u00e4rsi, miksi h\u00e4nt\u00e4 siten oli nimitetty.\nH\u00e4n meni hakemaan kyp\u00e4ri\u00e4ns\u00e4, miekkaansa ja ratsuansa, mutta huomasi,\nett\u00e4 ne kaikki oli viety pois. Silloin h\u00e4n kutsui itse\u00e4\u00e4n kurjaksi\nraukaksi ja onnettomimmaksi kaikista ritareista. \"Syntini ja\npahuuteni ovat minut saattaneet suureen h\u00e4pe\u00e4\u00e4n\", h\u00e4n virkkoi. \"Sill\u00e4\nkun min\u00e4 etsin maallisia seikkailuja maallisia haluja tyydytt\u00e4\u00e4kseni,\nniin min\u00e4 ne aina sain suoritetuiksi ja p\u00e4\u00e4sin joka paikassa voitolle\nenk\u00e4 koskaan miss\u00e4\u00e4n ottelussa joutunut tappiolle, oli se sitten\noikea tai v\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4. Ja nyt min\u00e4 rupesin etsim\u00e4\u00e4n pyhi\u00e4 seikkailuja,\nmutta min\u00e4 n\u00e4en ja ymm\u00e4rr\u00e4n, ett\u00e4 minun vanha syntini esti minua ja\nsaattoi minut h\u00e4pe\u00e4\u00e4n, niin ettei minulla ollut voimaa liikahtaa eik\u00e4\npuhua, kun tuo pyh\u00e4 astia ilmestyi minun eteeni.\"\nSill\u00e4 tapaa h\u00e4n murehti, kunnes p\u00e4iv\u00e4 koitti ja h\u00e4n kuuli pienen\nlinnun laulavan; silloin h\u00e4n sai hiukan lohdutusta.\nMutta kun Lancelot herra oli kadottanut ratsunsa ja aseensa, niin\nh\u00e4n tajusi, ett\u00e4 Jumala oli h\u00e4neen tyytym\u00e4t\u00f6n. H\u00e4n l\u00e4hti ristilt\u00e4\njalkaisin mets\u00e4\u00e4n ja saapui aamun sarastaessa korkealle kukkulalle,\njolla muuan erakko asui. Lancelot tapasi erakon juuri aamuhartauttaan\nalkamassa ja polvistui h\u00e4nen kanssaan ja huusi Herralta armoa pahojen\ntekojensa t\u00e4hden. Kun heid\u00e4n rukouksensa oli p\u00e4\u00e4ttynyt, niin Lancelot\npuhui erakolle ja pyysi h\u00e4nt\u00e4 kristillisest\u00e4 rakkaudesta kuulemaan\nh\u00e4nen el\u00e4m\u00e4ns\u00e4 tarinaa.\n\"Varsin mielell\u00e4ni\", virkkoi erakko. \"Ettek\u00f6 te ole Arthur kuninkaan\nhovista ja Py\u00f6re\u00e4n p\u00f6yd\u00e4n ritareita?\"\n\"Olen kyll\u00e4 ja minun nimeni on J\u00e4rven Lancelot, josta on sangen paljo\npuhuttu, ja nyt minun hyv\u00e4 onneni on muuttunut, sill\u00e4 min\u00e4 olen\nkaikkein kurjin mies maailmassa.\"\nErakko katsoi h\u00e4neen ja ihmetteli, miksi h\u00e4n oli niin alakuloinen.\n\"Herra\", erakko virkkoi, \"teid\u00e4n tulisi kiitt\u00e4\u00e4 Jumalaa enemm\u00e4n kuin\nkenenk\u00e4\u00e4n muun, sill\u00e4 H\u00e4n on antanut teid\u00e4n saada enemm\u00e4n maallista\nkunniaa, kuin kenenk\u00e4\u00e4n muun ritarin maan p\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4. Mutta teid\u00e4n\nr\u00f6yhkeytenne, kun te, vaikka viel\u00e4 vaelsitte kuoleman synniss\u00e4,\nuskalsitte katsella H\u00e4nen pyh\u00e4\u00e4 kalkkiansa, oli syyn\u00e4, ett'ette\nsaanut n\u00e4hd\u00e4 sit\u00e4 maallisilla silmill\u00e4. Sill\u00e4 H\u00e4n ei n\u00e4ytt\u00e4ydy\nsiell\u00e4, miss\u00e4 on moisia syntisi\u00e4, muuten kuin heid\u00e4n turmiokseen\nja suureksi h\u00e4pe\u00e4kseen. Eik\u00e4 ole ket\u00e4\u00e4n ritaria maan p\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4, jonka\ntulisi kantaa Jumalalle sellaista kiitosta, kuin teid\u00e4n. Sill\u00e4 H\u00e4n on\nantanut teille kauneutta ja komean ulkomuodon ja suurta v\u00e4kevyytt\u00e4,\nenemm\u00e4n kuin kenellek\u00e4\u00e4n muulle ritarille, ja senvuoksi te olette\nenemm\u00e4n velvollinen, kuin kukaan muu, Jumalaa rakastamaan ja H\u00e4nt\u00e4\npelk\u00e4\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n; sill\u00e4 v\u00e4h\u00e4 teit\u00e4 auttaa voimanne ja miehuutenne, jos\nJumala on teit\u00e4 vastaan.\"\nSilloin Lancelot herra itki suuresti murheissaan ja virkkoi: \"Min\u00e4\ntunnen ja tied\u00e4n kyll\u00e4, ett\u00e4 te minulle totta puhutte.\"\n\"Herra\", virkkoi tuo hyv\u00e4 mies, \"\u00e4lk\u00e4\u00e4 salatko minulta yht\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n\nvanhaa synti\u00e4nne.\"\n\"Totisesti, tuiki haluton olen niit\u00e4 tunnustamaan\", Lancelot herra\nsanoi. \"Sill\u00e4 nelj\u00e4\u00e4ntoista vuoteen en ole mit\u00e4\u00e4n tunnustanut ja\nsenvuoksi min\u00e4 nyt valitan h\u00e4pe\u00e4\u00e4ni ja onnettomuuttani.\"\nSilloin Lancelot herra kertoi erakolle koko el\u00e4m\u00e4ns\u00e4 ja kuinka h\u00e4n\nrakasti kuningatarta yli kaiken m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4n ja oli rakastanut kauemmin,\nkuin h\u00e4n saattoi vuosia laskea.\n\"Ja kaikki suuret asetekoni, joita min\u00e4 olen tehnyt, tein min\u00e4\nenimm\u00e4st\u00e4 p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 kuningattaren vuoksi ja h\u00e4nen t\u00e4htens\u00e4 min\u00e4\ntaistelin, oli se sitten v\u00e4\u00e4rin tai oikein; enk\u00e4 min\u00e4 milloinkaan\ntaistellut vain Jumalan kunniaksi, vaan voittaakseni itselleni\nkunniaa ja mainetta; ja v\u00e4h\u00e4 taikka en ensink\u00e4\u00e4n min\u00e4 siit\u00e4 kiitin\nJumalaa.\" Sitten Lancelot herra sanoi: \"Min\u00e4 pyyd\u00e4n teit\u00e4 neuvomaan\nminua.\"\n\"Tahdon neuvoa teit\u00e4\", erakko virkkoi, \"jos te lupaatte minulle,\nett'ette ikin\u00e4 mene tuon kuningattaren l\u00e4hettyville, jos vain voitte\nsit\u00e4 v\u00e4ltt\u00e4\u00e4.\"\nSilloin Lancelot herra lupasi h\u00e4nelle lujasti, ettei h\u00e4n menisi.\n\"Katsokaa ett\u00e4 teid\u00e4n syd\u00e4menne ja suunne sit\u00e4 noudattaa\", virkkoi\ntuo hyv\u00e4 mies, \"ja min\u00e4 vakuutan teille, ett\u00e4 saatte enemm\u00e4n kunniaa,\nkuin teill\u00e4 konsanaan on ollut.\"\n\"Min\u00e4 ihmettelen, mik\u00e4 se \u00e4\u00e4ni oli, joka sanoi minulle nuo\nkummalliset sanat, mitk\u00e4 teille kerroin\", virkkoi Lancelot herra.\n\"\u00c4l\u00e4 ihmettele\", erakko virkkoi, \"sill\u00e4 n\u00e4kyy kyll\u00e4, ett\u00e4 Jumala\nsinua rakastaa. Ihmiset saattavat tuntea, ett\u00e4 kivi on kova ja toinen\nlaji kovempi kuin toinen, -- sill\u00e4 tarkoitetaan _sinua_, Lancelot\nherra. Sill\u00e4 sin\u00e4 et tahtonut luopua synnist\u00e4si, vaikka Jumala oli\nsuonut sinulle niin paljo hyvyytt\u00e4; sen vuoksi sin\u00e4 olet kovempi\nkuin kivi; etk\u00e4 sin\u00e4 tahtonut pehmet\u00e4, et vedell\u00e4 etk\u00e4 tulella, --\nja senvuoksi Pyh\u00e4 Henki ei voinut astua sinun syd\u00e4meesi. Huomaa\nnyt tarkoin; koko maailmassa ei ole yht\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n ritaria, jolle meid\u00e4n\nHerramme olisi osoittanut niin suurta armoa, kuin h\u00e4n on sinulle\nosoittanut. Sill\u00e4 H\u00e4n on antanut sinulle kauneutta ja komean\nulkomuodon; H\u00e4n on antanut sinulle ymm\u00e4rryst\u00e4 eroittaa hyv\u00e4n pahasta;\nH\u00e4n on antanut sinulle miehuutta ja rohkeutta; ja on antanut sinun\notella niin uljaasti, ett\u00e4 sin\u00e4 joka kerta olet p\u00e4\u00e4ssyt voitolle\ntaisteluissa. Ja nyt meid\u00e4n Herramme ei tahdo en\u00e4\u00e4 k\u00e4rsi\u00e4 sinua\nenemp\u00e4\u00e4, vaan sin\u00e4 olet tunteva H\u00e4nen k\u00e4tens\u00e4 lep\u00e4\u00e4v\u00e4n raskaana\np\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4si, jos tahdot taikka et.\n\"Ja miksi tuo \u00e4\u00e4ni kutsui sinua kitker\u00e4mm\u00e4ksi kuin puu; -- miss\u00e4\nsangen paljo synti\u00e4 asustaa, siell\u00e4 saattaa olla vain v\u00e4h\u00e4 makeutta,\nja senvuoksi sinua verrataan vanhaan lahoon puuhun. Nyt olen\nselitt\u00e4nyt sinulle, mink\u00e4 vuoksi sin\u00e4 olet kovempi kuin kivi ja\nkitker\u00e4mpi kuin puu.\n\"Nyt selit\u00e4n sinulle, mink\u00e4 vuoksi sin\u00e4 olet paljaampi ja kuivempi\nkuin viikunapuu. Tapahtui, ett\u00e4 meid\u00e4n Herramme palmusunnuntaina\nsaarnasi Jerusalemissa, ja siell\u00e4 H\u00e4n n\u00e4ki kansassa kaikellaista\nkovasyd\u00e4misyytt\u00e4, ja siell\u00e4 H\u00e4n ei koko kaupungissa l\u00f6yt\u00e4nyt\nainoatakaan, joka olisi antanut H\u00e4nelle y\u00f6sijaa. Silloin H\u00e4n meni\nkaupungin ulkopuolelle ja n\u00e4ki keskell\u00e4 tiet\u00e4 viikunapuun, joka oli\nvarsin kaunis ja runsailla lehdill\u00e4 varustettu, mutta siin\u00e4 ei ollut\nyht\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n hedelm\u00e4\u00e4. Silloin meid\u00e4n Herramme kirosi sen puun, joka ei\nkantanut hedelm\u00e4\u00e4, -- ja viikunapuulla tarkoitettiin Jerusalemia,\njoka kantoi lehti\u00e4, mutta ei hedelmi\u00e4. Niin sin\u00e4kin, Lancelot\nherra; kun Pyh\u00e4 Graal tuotiin sinun eteesi, niin Se ei l\u00f6yt\u00e4nyt\nsinussa yht\u00e4\u00e4n hedelm\u00e4\u00e4 eik\u00e4 hyv\u00e4\u00e4 aivoitusta, vaan sin\u00e4 olit synnin\nsaastuttama.\"\n\"Totisesti\", Lancelot herra virkkoi, \"kaikki mit\u00e4 te olette puhunut,\non totta; ja t\u00e4st\u00e4 l\u00e4htien min\u00e4 aion Jumalan avulla el\u00e4\u00e4 paremmin\nkuin t\u00e4h\u00e4n asti olen el\u00e4nyt ja noudattaa ritarillisuutta ja tehd\u00e4\nasetekoja.\"\nSilloin tuo hyv\u00e4 mies m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4si Lancelot herran suorittamaan sellaisen\nkatumusteon kuin h\u00e4n saattoi tehd\u00e4 ja k\u00e4ski h\u00e4nen noudattaa\nritarillisuutta; ja niin h\u00e4n antoi h\u00e4nelle siunauksensa ja pyysi\nLancelot herraa viipym\u00e4\u00e4n luonansa koko sen p\u00e4iv\u00e4n.\n\"Mielell\u00e4ni sen teen\", Lancelot herra virkkoi, \"sill\u00e4 minulla ei ole\nkyp\u00e4ri\u00e4, eik\u00e4 ratsua eik\u00e4 miekkaa.\"\n\"\u00c4lk\u00e4\u00e4 sit\u00e4 huolehtiko\", tuo hyv\u00e4 mies virkkoi, \"ennen huomisp\u00e4iv\u00e4n\niltaa hankin teille ratsun ja kaikki mit\u00e4 tarvitsette.\"\nJa Lancelot herra katui kovasti kaikkia entisi\u00e4 rikoksiaan.\nHuone, jonka ovi oli suljettu.\nNiiden Py\u00f6re\u00e4n p\u00f6yd\u00e4n ritarien joukossa, jotka l\u00e4htiv\u00e4t Pyh\u00e4n Graalin\netsint\u00e4\u00e4n, oli, paitsi Galahad herraa ja p\u00e4\u00e4llikk\u00f6\u00e4 Lancelot herraa,\nviel\u00e4 seuraavat ritarit: hyv\u00e4 ritari Percival; Ector herra, Lancelot\nherran veli; Bors herra ja Gawaine herra. Monet ja merkilliset olivat\nne seikkailut, joihin he joutuivat, ja ihmeelliset olivat ne n\u00e4yt,\njoita he n\u00e4kiv\u00e4t, mutta kertaakaan he eiv\u00e4t saaneet Pyh\u00e4\u00e4 Graalia\nn\u00e4kyviins\u00e4. Sill\u00e4 Galahad herraa ja Percival herraa lukuunottamatta\nei ket\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n ritaria pidetty kelvollisena tuota taivaallista n\u00e4ky\u00e4\nn\u00e4kem\u00e4\u00e4n.\nMutta katumuksensa j\u00e4lkeen ja monta pitk\u00e4\u00e4 kuukautta vaellettuaan\nLancelot herran viimein melkein onnistui suorittaa tuo suuri teht\u00e4v\u00e4.\nSill\u00e4 yhten\u00e4 y\u00f6n\u00e4 ollessaan l\u00e4hell\u00e4 merta, h\u00e4n n\u00e4ki unissaan n\u00e4yn,\njoka k\u00e4ski h\u00e4nen astua ensim\u00e4iseen laivaan, mik\u00e4 h\u00e4nen eteens\u00e4\nsattuisi. Kun h\u00e4n kuuli n\u00e4m\u00e4 sanat, niin h\u00e4n hyp\u00e4hti pystyyn ja n\u00e4ki\nsuuren kirkkauden ymp\u00e4rill\u00e4\u00e4n, ja h\u00e4n otti varuksensa ja valmistautui\nl\u00e4htem\u00e4\u00e4n; ja kun h\u00e4n tuli meren rannalle, niin h\u00e4n n\u00e4ki laivan,\njoka oli ilman purjeita ja airoja. Heti laivaan p\u00e4\u00e4sty\u00e4\u00e4n h\u00e4n tunsi\nsuurinta suloisuutta, mit\u00e4 koskaan oli tuntenut, ja iloa, joka\nvoitti kaiken maallisen ilon, mit\u00e4 h\u00e4n koskaan oli kokenut. Ja t\u00e4ll\u00e4\nlaivalla h\u00e4n viipyi kuukauden tai enemm\u00e4nkin taivaallisen armon\nravitsemana.\nEr\u00e4\u00e4n\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 tuli sinne muuan ritari ratsun sel\u00e4ss\u00e4. Saavuttuaan\nlaivalle laskeutui t\u00e4m\u00e4 alas ratsultaan. Silloin Lancelot herra n\u00e4ki,\nett\u00e4 se oli h\u00e4nen poikansa Galahad, eik\u00e4 yksik\u00e4\u00e4n kieli saata kertoa,\nkuinka suuresti he iloitsivat toistensa tapaamisesta.\nHe kertoivat toinen toiselleen kaikki seikkailut ja ihmeet, joita\nheille kummallekin oli tapahtunut sen per\u00e4st\u00e4, kuin he l\u00e4htiv\u00e4t\nArthur kuninkaan hovista.\nLancelot ja Galahad oleskelivat siin\u00e4 laivassa puolen vuotta ja\npalvelivat Jumalaa p\u00e4ivin ja \u00f6in kaiken kykyns\u00e4 mukaan. Ja usein he\njoutuivat kauaksi ihmisist\u00e4 saarille, joilla ei l\u00f6ytynyt muuta kuin\njulmia petoja, ja he suorittivat monta merkillist\u00e4 seikkailua ja\nvaarallista urhoty\u00f6t\u00e4.\nYhten\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 tapahtui, ett\u00e4 heid\u00e4n laivansa saapui mets\u00e4n laitaan,\nja siell\u00e4 he n\u00e4kiv\u00e4t ritarin, joka oli kokonaan valkoisissa\nvaruksissa ja oikealla k\u00e4dell\u00e4\u00e4n talutti komeasti satuloitua\nvalkoista hevosta. H\u00e4n tuli laivalle ja tervehti molempia ritareita\nja sanoi:\n\"Galahad, te olette ollut kylliksi kauan is\u00e4nne seurassa; tulkaa ulos\nlaivasta ja hyp\u00e4tk\u00e4\u00e4 t\u00e4m\u00e4n ratsun selk\u00e4\u00e4n ja menk\u00e4\u00e4, minne seikkailut\nteit\u00e4 viev\u00e4t Pyh\u00e4\u00e4 Graalia etsim\u00e4\u00e4n.\"\nSilloin Galahad meni is\u00e4ns\u00e4 luo ja suuteli h\u00e4nt\u00e4 hell\u00e4sti ja sanoi:\n\"Hyv\u00e4 armas is\u00e4, en tied\u00e4 saanko teit\u00e4 en\u00e4\u00e4 n\u00e4hd\u00e4, ennenkuin olen\nn\u00e4hnyt Pyh\u00e4n Graalin.\"\n\"Min\u00e4 pyyd\u00e4n sinua\", Lancelot virkkoi, \"rukoilemaan taivaallista\nIs\u00e4\u00e4, ett\u00e4 H\u00e4n pit\u00e4isi minua palveluksessaan.\"\nNiin Galahad otti ratsunsa ja silloin he kuulivat \u00e4\u00e4nen, joka sanoi:\n\"Koettakaa hyvin k\u00e4ytt\u00e4yty\u00e4, sill\u00e4 toinen ei ole en\u00e4\u00e4 konsanaan\ntoista n\u00e4kev\u00e4 ennen hirmuista tuomiop\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4.\"\n\"Galahad poikani\", Lancelot virkkoi, \"koska meid\u00e4n tulee erota,\nemmek\u00e4 en\u00e4\u00e4 milloinkaan saa n\u00e4hd\u00e4 toisiamme, niin rukoilen\ntaivaallista Is\u00e4\u00e4 suojelemaan sek\u00e4 itse\u00e4ni ett\u00e4 sinua.\"\n\"Herra\", Galahad virkkoi, \"ei mik\u00e4\u00e4n rukous ole niin vaikuttava kuin\nteid\u00e4n\", ja samassa h\u00e4n ratsasti pois mets\u00e4\u00e4n.\nSilloin tuuli nousi ja ajeli enemm\u00e4n kuin kuukauden Lancelotia pitkin\nmerta, mutta h\u00e4n nukkui vain v\u00e4h\u00e4n laivallansa, ja rukoili Jumalaa,\nett\u00e4 h\u00e4n saisi jotain tietoja Pyh\u00e4st\u00e4 Graalista.\nTapahtuipa muutamana y\u00f6n\u00e4, keskiy\u00f6n aikaan, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n saapui linnan\nedustalle, joka takaap\u00e4in oli kaunis ja komea. Takaportti aukeni\nmerta kohden, ja se oli avoinna ilman mit\u00e4\u00e4n vartioita, paitsi ett\u00e4\nkaksi leijonaa vartioi sis\u00e4\u00e4nk\u00e4yt\u00e4v\u00e4\u00e4, ja kuu paistoi kirkkaasti.\nSilloin Lancelot kuuli \u00e4\u00e4nen, joka sanoi:\n\"Lancelot, astu ulos t\u00e4st\u00e4 laivastasi ja mene tuohon linnaan, miss\u00e4\nsin\u00e4 olet n\u00e4kev\u00e4 suuren osan siit\u00e4 mit\u00e4 halajat.\"\nNiin h\u00e4n juoksi ja asestautui ja tuli portille ja n\u00e4ki leijonat ja\nsilloin h\u00e4n tarttui miekkaansa ja paljasti sen. Mutta \u00e4kki\u00e4 tuli\nk\u00e4\u00e4pi\u00f6 ja l\u00f6i h\u00e4nt\u00e4 k\u00e4sivarteen niin kiivaasti, ett\u00e4 miekka putosi\nh\u00e4nen k\u00e4dest\u00e4ns\u00e4.\n\"Sin\u00e4 huono- ja heikkouskoinen mies!\" h\u00e4n kuuli \u00e4\u00e4nen sanovan,\n\"miksik\u00e4 sin\u00e4 luotat enemm\u00e4n aseisiisi kuin Luojaasi? Sill\u00e4 H\u00e4n,\njonka palvelukseen sin\u00e4 olet pantu, saattaa sinua enemm\u00e4n auttaa kuin\nsinun varuksesi.\"\nSilloin Lancelot virkkoi: \"Min\u00e4 kiit\u00e4n sinua, Herra Kristus, suuresta\narmostasi, ett\u00e4 Sin\u00e4 minua v\u00e4\u00e4rinteostani nuhtelet. Nyt min\u00e4 n\u00e4en\nett\u00e4 Sin\u00e4 pid\u00e4t minua palvelijanasi.\"\nSitten h\u00e4n otti taas miekkansa, pisti sen tuppeensa, teki otsaansa\nristinmerkin ja l\u00e4hestyi leijonia, ja ne n\u00e4yttiv\u00e4t tahtovan tehd\u00e4\nh\u00e4nelle pahaa. Kuitenkin h\u00e4n p\u00e4\u00e4si vahingoittumatta niiden ohitse ja\nl\u00e4hestyi linnan p\u00e4\u00e4rakennusta, miss\u00e4 kaikki linnan asujamet n\u00e4yttiv\u00e4t\nolevan. Silloin Lancelot astui t\u00e4ysiss\u00e4 aseissaan sis\u00e4\u00e4n, sill\u00e4\nkaikki portit ja ovet olivat avoinna. Ja viimein h\u00e4n n\u00e4ki kammion,\njonka ovi oli suljettu; h\u00e4n laski k\u00e4tens\u00e4 ovelle avatakseen sen,\nmutta ei voinut, vaikka h\u00e4n pani liikkeelle viimeisetkin voimansa\nsaadakseen oven auki.\nSitten h\u00e4n kuunteli ja kuuli \u00e4\u00e4nen laulavan niin suloisesti, ettei\nse tuntunut maalliselta \u00e4\u00e4nelt\u00e4; ja h\u00e4nen mielest\u00e4\u00e4n \u00e4\u00e4ni lausui:\n\"Ylistys ja kunnia olkoon Taivaalliselle Is\u00e4lle!\"\nSilloin Lancelot polvistui kammion oven eteen, sill\u00e4 h\u00e4n ymm\u00e4rsi,\nett\u00e4 Pyh\u00e4 Graal oli tuossa huoneessa, ja h\u00e4n rukoili Jumalaa, ett\u00e4\njos h\u00e4n milloinkaan oli tehnyt mit\u00e4\u00e4n H\u00e4nelle otollista, ett\u00e4 H\u00e4n\narmahtaisi h\u00e4nt\u00e4 ja n\u00e4ytt\u00e4isi h\u00e4nelle jotakin siit\u00e4, mit\u00e4 h\u00e4n etsi.\nSilloin kammion ovi aukeni ja sielt\u00e4 tuli ulos suuri kirkkaus, niin\nett\u00e4 rakennus oli niin valoisa, kuin jos siell\u00e4 olisi ollut kaikki\nmaailman soihdut ja kynttil\u00e4t. Lancelot meni ovelle ja aikoi astua\nsis\u00e4\u00e4n, mutta \u00e4kki\u00e4 \u00e4\u00e4ni virkkoi:\n\"Pakene, Lancelot, \u00e4l\u00e4k\u00e4 astu siihen kammioon, sill\u00e4 jos sin\u00e4 sinne\nastut, niin sin\u00e4 sit\u00e4 katuva olet.\"\nNiin Lancelot vet\u00e4ytyi takaisin, sangen raskaalla mielell\u00e4.\nSitten h\u00e4n katsoi kammioon ja n\u00e4ki keskell\u00e4 kammiota hopeap\u00f6yd\u00e4n ja\npyh\u00e4n astian punaisella sametilla peitettyn\u00e4 ja monta enkeli\u00e4 sen\nymp\u00e4rill\u00e4, ja yksi piti palavaa vahakynttil\u00e4\u00e4 k\u00e4dess\u00e4\u00e4n. Pyh\u00e4n astian\nedess\u00e4 h\u00e4n n\u00e4ki papin puvussa olevan miehen, ja n\u00e4ytti silt\u00e4, kuin\nparaillaan olisi pidetty juhlallista jumalanpalvelusta. Kolme miest\u00e4\nseisoi l\u00e4hell\u00e4, ja Lancelotista n\u00e4ytti kuin pappi olisi nostanut yl\u00f6s\nnuorimman niist\u00e4 ik\u00e4\u00e4nkuin n\u00e4ytt\u00e4\u00e4kseen h\u00e4nt\u00e4 kansalle. Lancelot\nihmetteli kovin, sill\u00e4 se taakka oli papille niin raskas, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n\noli aivan vaipumaisillaan maahan. Kun Lancelot n\u00e4ki, ettei kukaan\nl\u00e4hell\u00e4 olevista aikonut auttaa pappia, niin h\u00e4n juoksi nopeasti\novelle.\n\"Herra Kristus\", h\u00e4n virkkoi, \"\u00e4l\u00e4 pid\u00e4 sit\u00e4 syntin\u00e4, vaikka min\u00e4\nautan tuota miest\u00e4, sill\u00e4 h\u00e4n on suuressa avun tarpeessa.\"\nSamassa h\u00e4n astui kammioon ja meni hopeap\u00f6yt\u00e4\u00e4 kohden; ja kun h\u00e4n\np\u00e4\u00e4si l\u00e4helle, niin h\u00e4n tunsi tulevan vastaansa tuulenviiman, joka\noli ik\u00e4\u00e4nkuin tulella sekoitettu, ja se sy\u00f6ks\u00e4hti niin rajusti h\u00e4nen\nkasvoihinsa, ett\u00e4 se n\u00e4ytti aivan polttavan h\u00e4net, ja samassa h\u00e4n\nkaatui maahan eik\u00e4 kyennyt nousemaan. Silloin h\u00e4n tunsi ymp\u00e4rill\u00e4\u00e4n\nmonta k\u00e4tt\u00e4, jotka nostivat h\u00e4net yl\u00f6s ja kantoivat h\u00e4net ulos\nhuoneesta ja j\u00e4ttiv\u00e4t h\u00e4net, niinkuin n\u00e4ytti, kuolleena makaamaan. Ja\naamulla linnan v\u00e4ki h\u00e4net l\u00f6ysi kammion oven ulkopuolelta.\nNelj\u00e4kolmatta p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4 Lancelot herra makasi kuin kuolleena, mutta\nviidenten\u00e4kolmatta p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 h\u00e4n avasi silm\u00e4ns\u00e4. Silloin h\u00e4nelle\nkerrottiin, ett\u00e4 se linna kuului Pelles kuninkaalle, miss\u00e4 h\u00e4n kauan\naikaa sitten oli n\u00e4hnyt Pyh\u00e4n Graalin ilmestyksen ensi kertaa.\nKaikki kansa ihmetteli, kun he huomasivat ett\u00e4 t\u00e4m\u00e4 muukalainen oli\nLancelot, tuo hyv\u00e4 ritari, ja he l\u00e4hettiv\u00e4t sanan Pelles kuninkaalle,\njoka tuli sangen iloiseksi sen uutisen kuullessaan ja meni h\u00e4nt\u00e4\nkatsomaan ja riemuitsi suuresti h\u00e4nen tulostansa. Ja kuningas kertoi\nLancelotille, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4nen ihana tytt\u00e4rens\u00e4 Elaine, Galahadin \u00e4iti, oli\nkuollut. Ja Lancelot oli ylen suruissaan sen sanoman kuultuansa.\nNelj\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4 Lancelot herra viipyi linnassa ja sitten h\u00e4n otti Pelles\nkuninkaalta j\u00e4\u00e4hyv\u00e4iset. H\u00e4n k\u00e4sitti nyt, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4nen etsimisens\u00e4\noli p\u00e4\u00e4ttynyt, ja ettei h\u00e4n milloinkaan saisi n\u00e4hd\u00e4 enemp\u00e4\u00e4 Pyh\u00e4st\u00e4\nGraalista, kuin h\u00e4n oli n\u00e4hnyt. Niin h\u00e4n lupasi palata valtakuntaansa\nLogrisiin, jota h\u00e4n ei ollut n\u00e4hnyt puoleentoista vuoteen.\nKun h\u00e4n saapui Camelotiin, niin h\u00e4n n\u00e4ki, ett\u00e4 muutamat Py\u00f6re\u00e4n\np\u00f6yd\u00e4n ritarit olivat palanneet kotia, mutta ett\u00e4 monet heist\u00e4 --\nenemm\u00e4n kuin puolet -- olivat kaatuneet tai saaneet surmansa.\nArthur kuningas, Guinevere kuningatar ja koko hovi tulivat ylen\niloisiksi n\u00e4hdess\u00e4\u00e4n taas Lancelot herran, ja kuningas kyseli h\u00e4nelt\u00e4\nuutisia h\u00e4nen pojastaan Galahadista.\nLancelot kertoi kuninkaalle kaikki seikkailut, mit\u00e4 h\u00e4nelle oli\ntapahtunut sen j\u00e4lkeen kuin h\u00e4n oli l\u00e4htenyt Arthurin hovista, ja\nmy\u00f6s, mit\u00e4 h\u00e4n tiesi Galahadin, Percivalin ja Borsin seikkailuista.\n\"Suokoon Jumala\", virkkoi kuningas, \"ett\u00e4 he kaikki kolme pian\nolisivat t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4!\"\n\"Niin ei ole tapahtuva\", virkkoi Lancelot, \"sill\u00e4 kahta heist\u00e4 te\nette en\u00e4\u00e4 koskaan saa n\u00e4hd\u00e4. Mutta yksi heist\u00e4 on tuleva takaisin.\"\nKuinka Galahad herra n\u00e4ki Pyh\u00e4n Graalin.\nJ\u00e4tetty\u00e4\u00e4n Lancelot herran, Galahad ratsasti turhaan monta\np\u00e4iv\u00e4nmatkaa. Minne h\u00e4n vain meni, niin kummallisia merkkej\u00e4 ja\nihmeit\u00e4 seurasi h\u00e4nt\u00e4, mutta viel\u00e4 h\u00e4n ei kuitenkaan ollut n\u00e4hnyt\nPyh\u00e4n Graalin ilmestyst\u00e4.\nTapahtuipa er\u00e4\u00e4n\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4, ett\u00e4 kun h\u00e4n ratsasti ulos suuresta\nmets\u00e4st\u00e4, h\u00e4net yll\u00e4tti Percival herra, joka oli seurannut h\u00e4nt\u00e4\nviisi p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4, ja kohta sen j\u00e4lkeen he muutamassa tienristeyksess\u00e4\ntapasivat Bors herran. Ei tarvitse kysy\u00e4, ilostuivatko he. He\nkertoivat kukin toisilleen seikkailunsa ja ratsastivat kaikki yhdess\u00e4\neteenp\u00e4in.\nSill\u00e4 tapaa he matkasivat pitk\u00e4n aikaa, kunnes saapuivat siihen\nsamaan Pelles kuninkaan linnaan, miss\u00e4 Lancelot herra jo oli\nk\u00e4ynyt, ja heti kun he astuivat linnaan, niin Pelles kuningas tunsi\nheid\u00e4t. Silloin nousi suuri ilo, sill\u00e4 kaikki kansa k\u00e4sitti heid\u00e4n\nsaapuessaan, ett\u00e4 he olivat saattaneet loppuun Pyh\u00e4n Graalin etsinn\u00e4n.\nHiukan ennen iltaa, kun he olivat kokoontuneina salissa, kuului \u00e4\u00e4ni\nheid\u00e4n joukossansa, ja se sanoi: \"Ne, joiden ei tule istua Jeesuksen\nKristuksen p\u00f6yt\u00e4\u00e4n, nouskoot, sill\u00e4 nyt ravitaan vain todellisia\nritareita.\" Niin jokainen meni pois, paitsi Pelles kuningas ja\nEliazar, h\u00e4nen poikansa, jotka olivat pyhi\u00e4 miehi\u00e4, ja muuan neito,\njoka oli h\u00e4nen sisarensa tyt\u00e4r; n\u00e4m\u00e4 kolme ja ne kolme ritaria sinne\nj\u00e4i, ei enemp\u00e4\u00e4.\nPian he n\u00e4kiv\u00e4t yhdeks\u00e4n ritaria, kaikki aseissa, tulevan sis\u00e4\u00e4n\nsalin ovesta ja riisuvan kyp\u00e4rins\u00e4 ja varuksensa.\n\"Herra\", he virkkoivat Galahadille, \"me olemme sangen kovin\nrient\u00e4neet, saadaksemme istua teid\u00e4n kanssanne t\u00e4ss\u00e4 p\u00f6yd\u00e4ss\u00e4, miss\u00e4\npyh\u00e4 ateria jaetaan.\"\nSilloin h\u00e4n sanoi: \"Te olette tervetulleita, mutta mist\u00e4 kaukaa te\ntulette?\"\nKolme heist\u00e4 sanoi tulevansa Gaulista ja kolme sanoi olevansa\nIrlannista ja muut kolme sanoivat olevansa Denmarkista.\nSilloin \u00e4\u00e4ni lausui: \"Kaksi on teid\u00e4n joukossanne, jotka eiv\u00e4t kuulu\nPyh\u00e4n Graalin etsint\u00e4\u00e4n; poistukoot he senvuoksi.\" Niin Pelles\nkuningas ja h\u00e4nen poikansa poistuivat.\nNe ritarit, jotka j\u00e4iv\u00e4t, n\u00e4kiv\u00e4t nyt hopeap\u00f6yd\u00e4n, jolla Pyh\u00e4 Graal\noli, ja heist\u00e4 n\u00e4ytti, kuin enkeleit\u00e4 seisoisi ymp\u00e4rill\u00e4 ja ett\u00e4\njuhlallinen toimitus oli alkamassa. He istuutuivat p\u00f6yd\u00e4n \u00e4\u00e4reen\nsuuren pelon vallassa ja alkoivat rukoilla. Silloin saapui Er\u00e4s,\nniinkuin heist\u00e4 n\u00e4ytti, Herran Kristuksen haahmossa ja H\u00e4n sanoi:\n\"Minun ritarini ja palvelijani ja minun uskolliset lapseni,\njotka olette tulleet kuolevaisesta el\u00e4m\u00e4st\u00e4 henkiseen el\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n,\nmin\u00e4 en silleen teill\u00e4 tahdo k\u00e4tkeyty\u00e4, vaan te saatte n\u00e4hd\u00e4\nMinun salaisuuksiani ja Minun k\u00e4tkettyj\u00e4 asioitani; pit\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4 ja\nvastaanottakaa nyt se korkea ateria, jota olette niin suuresti\nhalanneet.\" Sitten H\u00e4n otti itse pyh\u00e4n astian ja tuli Galahadin luo,\njoka polvistui ja otti vastaan pyh\u00e4n ravinnon, ja h\u00e4nen j\u00e4lkeens\u00e4\nottivat kaikki h\u00e4nen kumppaninsa samalla tapaa; ja heid\u00e4n mielest\u00e4\u00e4n\nse oli niin suloista, ett\u00e4 sit\u00e4 oli ihmeellist\u00e4 kertoa.\nSilloin H\u00e4n sanoi Galahadille: \"Poikani, tied\u00e4tk\u00f6 sin\u00e4, mit\u00e4 min\u00e4\npid\u00e4n k\u00e4siss\u00e4ni?\"\n\"En\", Galahad vastasi, \"ellet Sin\u00e4 sit\u00e4 minulle ilmoita.\"\n\"T\u00e4m\u00e4 on\", H\u00e4n sanoi, \"se pyh\u00e4 kallio, mist\u00e4 min\u00e4 s\u00f6in lampaan\nviimeisell\u00e4 Ehtoollisellani. Ja nyt sin\u00e4 olet saanut n\u00e4hd\u00e4 sen,\nmit\u00e4 sin\u00e4 kaikkein enimm\u00e4n olet n\u00e4hd\u00e4 halannut, mutta viel\u00e4 sin\u00e4\net ole sit\u00e4 n\u00e4hnyt niin avoimena, kuin sin\u00e4 sen n\u00e4kev\u00e4 olet\nSarrasin kaupungissa. Senvuoksi sinun t\u00e4ytyy l\u00e4hte\u00e4 t\u00e4\u00e4lt\u00e4 ja vied\u00e4\nmukanasi t\u00e4m\u00e4 pyh\u00e4 astia, sill\u00e4 t\u00e4n\u00e4 y\u00f6n\u00e4 se on poistuva Logrisin\nvaltakunnasta, eik\u00e4 sit\u00e4 en\u00e4\u00e4 konsanaan t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 n\u00e4ht\u00e4m\u00e4n pid\u00e4. Ja\ntahdotko tiet\u00e4\u00e4 miksi? Siksi ett\u00e4 t\u00e4m\u00e4n maan kansa on k\u00e4\u00e4ntynyt\nhuonoon el\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n, sent\u00e4hden min\u00e4 otan heilt\u00e4 pois sen kunnian\nperinn\u00f6n, jonka min\u00e4 heille annoin. Menk\u00e4\u00e4 senvuoksi, te kolme,\nhuomenna merelle, siell\u00e4 te l\u00f6yd\u00e4tte laivanne valmiina, -- te ja\nPercival herra ja Bors herra, eik\u00e4 ket\u00e4\u00e4n muita teid\u00e4n kanssanne. Ja\nkaksi teist\u00e4 on kuoleva Minun palveluksessani, mutta yksi teist\u00e4 on\nj\u00e4lleen palaava Camelotiin ja viev\u00e4 sanomia.\"\nSitten H\u00e4n siunasi heit\u00e4 ja katosi heid\u00e4n n\u00e4kyvist\u00e4ns\u00e4. Niin Galahad,\nPercival ja Bors j\u00e4ttiv\u00e4t Pelles kuninkaan linnan. Ratsastettuaan\nkolme p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4 he tulivat meren rannalle, miss\u00e4 he l\u00f6ysiv\u00e4t saman\nlaivan, jossa Galahad oli oleskellut Lancelotin kanssa; ja kun\nhe astuivat laivaan, niin he n\u00e4kiv\u00e4t sen keskell\u00e4 hopeap\u00f6yd\u00e4n ja\nPyh\u00e4n Graalin, joka oli peitetty punaisella sametilla. Silloin he\niloitsivat, ett\u00e4 heill\u00e4 oli sellaisia kapineita muassaan.\nNiin he purjehtivat eteenp\u00e4in, kunnes tulivat Sarrasin kaupunkiin,\njonne he laskivat maihin ja ottivat hopeap\u00f6yd\u00e4n mukaansa. Kun\nhe astuivat sis\u00e4\u00e4n kaupungin portista, niin he n\u00e4kiv\u00e4t vanhan\nkoukkuselk\u00e4isen ukon istumassa, ja Galahad kutsui h\u00e4nt\u00e4 ja pyysi\nh\u00e4nt\u00e4 auttamaan heit\u00e4 raskaan p\u00f6yd\u00e4n kantamisessa.\n\"Totisesti\", vanhus virkkoi, \"kymmeneen vuoteen en ole saattanut\nk\u00e4yd\u00e4 muuten kuin kainalosauvoilla.\"\n\"V\u00e4h\u00e4t siit\u00e4\", virkkoi Galahad, \"nouse vain pystyyn ja n\u00e4yt\u00e4 hyv\u00e4\u00e4\ntahtoasi.\"\nVanhus koetti nousta, ja hetikohta h\u00e4n huomasi olevansa terveempi\nkuin koskaan. Silloin h\u00e4n juoksi p\u00f6yd\u00e4n luo ja tarttui sen yhteen\nsyrj\u00e4\u00e4n Galahadin kantaessa vastakkaisesta syrj\u00e4st\u00e4.\nT\u00e4m\u00e4n parannuksen maine kulki kautta kaupungin, ja kun kaupungin\nkuningas n\u00e4ki nuo kolme ritaria, niin h\u00e4n kysyi, mist\u00e4 he tulivat,\nja mik\u00e4 kapine se oli, jonka he olivat tuoneet hopeap\u00f6yd\u00e4ll\u00e4. He\nkertoivat h\u00e4nelle Pyh\u00e4n Graalin totuuden ja mink\u00e4 voiman Jumala oli\nsiihen pannut sairaita parantamaan.\nMutta tuo kuningas oli tyranni ja polveutui pakanallisesta suvusta,\nja h\u00e4n otti nuo kolme ritaria ja pisti heid\u00e4t vankeuteen, syv\u00e4\u00e4n\nkuiluun. Mutta koko ajan kun he olivat vankeudessa, taivaan pyh\u00e4 armo\nyll\u00e4piti heit\u00e4.\nVuoden lopulla tapahtui, ett\u00e4 kuningas k\u00e4vi sairaaksi ja tunsi ett\u00e4\nh\u00e4nen piti kuoleman. Silloin h\u00e4n l\u00e4hetti hakemaan noita kolmea\nritaria ja kun he tulivat h\u00e4nen eteens\u00e4, niin h\u00e4n pyysi heilt\u00e4\nanteeksi kaikkea sit\u00e4, mit\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli heille tehnyt, ja mielell\u00e4\u00e4n he\nantoivat h\u00e4nelle anteeksi, ja niin h\u00e4n kuoli.\nKun kuningas oli kuollut, niin koko kaupunki pel\u00e4styi, eiv\u00e4tk\u00e4 he\ntiet\u00e4neet, kuka saattaisi tulla heid\u00e4n kuninkaaksensa. Silloin\njuuri, kun he parhaillaan olivat neuvottelussa, kuului \u00e4\u00e4ni heid\u00e4n\njoukossansa ja k\u00e4ski heid\u00e4n valita nuorimman noista kolmesta\nritarista kuninkaaksensa. Niin Galahad tehtiin koko kaupungin\nsuostumuksella kuninkaaksi.\nKun Galahad oli tarkastanut maan, niin h\u00e4n rakennutti hopeap\u00f6yd\u00e4n\nymp\u00e4rille kullasta ja kalliista kivist\u00e4 laatikon, joka peitti pyh\u00e4n\nastian, ja joka aamu varhain nuo kolme ritaria tapasivat tulla sen\neteen ja lausua rukouksensa.\nVuoden lopulla samana p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4, jona Galahadille annettiin\nkultakruunu, h\u00e4n nousi aikaisin, h\u00e4n ja h\u00e4nen kumppaninsa, ja meniv\u00e4t\npalatsiin pyh\u00e4n astian \u00e4\u00e4reen. Siell\u00e4 he n\u00e4kiv\u00e4t edess\u00e4ns\u00e4 miehen\npolvillaan ja h\u00e4n oli piispan n\u00e4k\u00f6inen; ja ylt'ymp\u00e4rill\u00e4 oli suuri\nenkelien joukko.\n\"Tule vain t\u00e4nne, Galahad, Jeesuksen Kristuksen palvelija\", h\u00e4n\nvirkkoi, \"ja sin\u00e4 saat n\u00e4hd\u00e4 sen, mit\u00e4 sin\u00e4 kauan olet n\u00e4hd\u00e4\nhalannut.\"\nSilloin Galahad alkoi vapista, sill\u00e4 h\u00e4n sai n\u00e4hd\u00e4 hengellisi\u00e4\nasioita maallisilla silmill\u00e4ns\u00e4; ja pit\u00e4en k\u00e4si\u00e4\u00e4n kohotettuina\ntaivasta kohden, h\u00e4n virkkoi:\n\"Herra, min\u00e4 kiit\u00e4n Sinua, sill\u00e4 nyt min\u00e4 n\u00e4en sen, mik\u00e4 on ollut\nminun halunani kauan aikaa. Nyt, pyh\u00e4 Herra, en tahtoisi en\u00e4\u00e4 el\u00e4\u00e4,\njos se olisi Sinulle otollista, Herra!\"\nSitten tuo hyv\u00e4 mies otti pyh\u00e4n ruoan ja tarjosi sit\u00e4 Galahadille, ja\nh\u00e4n otti sen vastaan iloisena ja n\u00f6yr\u00e4n\u00e4.\nKun se oli tehty, niin Galahad meni Percival herran ja Bors herran\nluo ja suuteli heit\u00e4 ja j\u00e4tti heid\u00e4t Jumalan haltuun. Ja Bors\nherralle h\u00e4n sanoi: \"Hyv\u00e4 herra, tervehtik\u00e4\u00e4 minun is\u00e4\u00e4ni, Lancelot\nherraa, ja heti kun tapaatte h\u00e4net, niin pyyt\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4 h\u00e4nen muistamaan\nt\u00e4m\u00e4n maailman katoavaisuutta.\"\nSitten h\u00e4n polvistui p\u00f6yd\u00e4n eteen ja lausui rukouksensa, ja kohta\nh\u00e4nen sielunsa l\u00e4hti Jeesuksen Kristuksen tyk\u00f6.\nSilloin n\u00e4ytti noista molemmista ritareista, ett\u00e4 k\u00e4si tuli taivaasta\nja vei pois tuon pyh\u00e4n astian. Ja sen ajan per\u00e4st\u00e4 ei kenk\u00e4\u00e4n ole\nrohjennut sanoa Pyh\u00e4\u00e4 Graalia n\u00e4hneens\u00e4.\nKun Percival ja Bors n\u00e4kiv\u00e4t, ett\u00e4 Galahad oli kuollut, niin he\nsurivat niin suuresti, kuin kaksi miest\u00e4 ikin\u00e4 surra saattoi, ja\njoll'eiv\u00e4t he olisi olleet hyvi\u00e4 miehi\u00e4, niin he olisivat helposti\njoutuneet ep\u00e4toivoon. Ja kaupungin ja maan kansa oli kovin raskaalla\nmielell\u00e4. Heti kun Galahad oli haudattu, niin Percival herra vet\u00e4ytyi\nerakkomajaan ja siell\u00e4 h\u00e4n vuoden ja kaksi kuukautta eli t\u00e4ysin pyh\u00e4\u00e4\nel\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4, ja sitten h\u00e4n l\u00e4hti pois.\nBors herra oli Percival herran luona niin kauan kun t\u00e4m\u00e4 eli, mutta\nkun h\u00e4n kuoli, niin Bors herra otti laivan ja palasi Logrisin\nvaltakuntaan, ja niin h\u00e4n tuli Camelotiin, miss\u00e4 Arthur kuningas\noli. Suuresti iloittiin h\u00e4nen tulostansa hovissa, sill\u00e4 he luulivat\nkaikki, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n varmaankin oli kuollut, kun h\u00e4n oli ollut niin\nkauan poissa hovista. Bors herra kertoi heille kaikki Pyh\u00e4n Graalin\nseikkailut ja Lancelot herralle h\u00e4n sanoi Galahadin tervehdyksen.\n\"Lancelot herra\", h\u00e4n virkkoi, \"Galahad pyyt\u00e4\u00e4 teit\u00e4 ajattelemaan\nt\u00e4m\u00e4n maailman katoavaisuutta, niinkuin te h\u00e4nelle lupasitte, kun\nenemm\u00e4n kuin puoli vuotta olitte yhdess\u00e4.\"\n\"Se on totta\", Lancelot virkkoi. \"Nyt min\u00e4 uskon ja luotan, ett\u00e4\nh\u00e4nen rukouksensa auttaa minua.\"\nARTHURIN KUOLEMA\nLancelot herran l\u00e4ht\u00f6.\nSenj\u00e4lkeen kun Pyh\u00e4n Graalin etsint\u00e4 oli loppuun suoritettu ja kaikki\nritarit, jotka olivat j\u00e4\u00e4neet eloon, olivat palanneet Py\u00f6re\u00e4n p\u00f6yd\u00e4n\n\u00e4\u00e4reen, pidettiin hovissa suurta iloa, ja varsinkin Arthur kuningas\nja Guinevere kuningatar riemuitsivat ja olivat ylen iloisia Lancelot\nherran ja Bors herran t\u00e4hden. Ja jonkun aikaa kaikki k\u00e4vi hyvin ja\npaljon juhlittiin ja iloittiin.\nMutta Lancelot herra unhoitti erakolle antamansa lupauksen, ett\u00e4\nh\u00e4n niin v\u00e4h\u00e4 kuin mahdollista katselisi Guinevere kuningatarta, ja\nkoska h\u00e4nt\u00e4 kuningas ja kuningatar ja kaikki kansa piti niin suuressa\nkunniassa, niin muutamat muista ritareista kadehtivat h\u00e4nt\u00e4 ja\nkoettivat tehd\u00e4 h\u00e4nelle kaikkea pahaa, mit\u00e4 taisivat.\nH\u00e4ijyin ja ilkein Arthur kuninkaan hovissa olevista ritareista\noli Mordred herra. H\u00e4n oli Arthur kuninkaan sisaren, Orkneyn\nkuninkaan Lotin puolison nuorin poika, ja h\u00e4nt\u00e4 Merlin tarkoitti,\nennustaessaan, ett\u00e4 toukokuun ensim\u00e4isen\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 syntynyt lapsi\ntuottaisi turmiota Arthur kuninkaalle. H\u00e4n oli jalojen ritarien\nGawainen, Gaherisin ja Garethin velipuoli, mutta ei ensink\u00e4\u00e4n heid\u00e4n\nkaltaisensa luonnoltaan. Ainoa veli, joka h\u00e4nt\u00e4 hiukankin muistutti,\noli Agrivaine herra, ja juuri noiden molempien ritarien panettelujen\nt\u00e4hden nousi se vihan ja kiukun myrsky, joka ei asettunut, ennenkuin\nkaiken maailman ritariuden kukka oli ly\u00f6ty ja surmattu.\nHerttaisena toukokuuna, kun jokainen jalo syd\u00e4n hehkuu el\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4 --\nkun maa levitt\u00e4\u00e4 silmiemme eteen ihanintaan ja loistoisintaan, ja\nkaikki miehet ja naiset iloitsevat ja riemuitsevat, koska suvi on\ntulossa heloittavine kukkineen -- ihanana toukokuuna nuo molemmat\nritarit Agrivaine ja Mordred panivat toimeen ilkity\u00f6ns\u00e4. Julkisessa\nkokouksessa monien ritarien l\u00e4sn\u00e4ollessa he puhuivat loukkaavia\npuheita Lancelot herrasta ja Guinevere kuningattaresta ja kehoittivat\ntoistamaan niit\u00e4 kuninkaalle. Silloin virkkoi Gawaine herra:\n\"Veljeni, Agrivaine herra\", h\u00e4n sanoi, \"min\u00e4 pyyd\u00e4n ja vaadin teit\u00e4,\n\u00e4lk\u00e4\u00e4 puhuko en\u00e4\u00e4 tuollaista minun l\u00e4sn\u00e4ollessani, sill\u00e4 tiet\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4,\nett\u00e4 min\u00e4 en tahdo ottaa osaa teid\u00e4n vehkeisiinne.\"\n\"Totisesti\", virkkoivat Gaheris ja Gareth herra, \"emme mek\u00e4\u00e4n tahdo\nolla osallisina teid\u00e4n vehkeiss\u00e4nne.\"\n\"Sittenp\u00e4 tahdon min\u00e4\", Mordred virkkoi.\n\"Sen saatan kyll\u00e4 uskoa\", sanoi Gawaine herra, \"sill\u00e4 miss\u00e4 vain\npahuutta tapahtuu, niin teill\u00e4 on siin\u00e4 osanne, veljeni Mordred\nherra; mutta min\u00e4 toivoisin ett\u00e4 j\u00e4tt\u00e4isitte t\u00e4m\u00e4n, ettek\u00e4 tekisi\nitsest\u00e4nne sellaista juonittelijaa, sill\u00e4 min\u00e4 tied\u00e4n, mit\u00e4 siit\u00e4\ntulee.\"\n\"Tulkoon mit\u00e4 tahansa\", virkkoi Agrivaine herra, \"min\u00e4 puhun\nkuninkaalle.\"\n\"Ette ainakaan minun neuvostani\", sanoi Gawaine herra, \"sill\u00e4 jos\nnousee sota ja h\u00e4vitys Lancelot herran ja meid\u00e4n v\u00e4lill\u00e4mme, niin\nhuomatkaa tarkoin, veli, moni kuningas ja mahtava lordi on pit\u00e4v\u00e4\nLancelot herran puolta. Min\u00e4 puolestani en ikin\u00e4 nouse Lancelot\nherraa vastaan, sill\u00e4 h\u00e4n vapautti minut Tuskien tornin kuninkaan\nCaradosin k\u00e4sist\u00e4 ja surmasi h\u00e4net ja pelasti minun henkeni.\nNiinik\u00e4\u00e4n, Agrivaine veli ja Mordred veli, samalla tapaa Lancelot\nherra vapautti teid\u00e4t molemmat ja kolme kertaa kaksikymment\u00e4 ritaria\nTurquine herran k\u00e4sist\u00e4. Minun mielest\u00e4ni sellaisia hyvi\u00e4 tekoja ja\nyst\u00e4v\u00e4llisyytt\u00e4 pit\u00e4isi muistettaman.\"\n\"Tehk\u00e4\u00e4 kuten tahdotte\", virkkoi Agrivaine herra, \"min\u00e4 en tahdo sit\u00e4\nkauempaa salata.\"\nSill\u00e4 hetkell\u00e4 l\u00e4hestyi Arthur kuningas.\n\"Nyt, veljet, hiljent\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4 h\u00e4lin\u00e4nne\", Gawaine sanoi.\n\"Sit\u00e4 emme tahdo\", virkkoivat Agrivaine ja Mordred.\n\"Ettek\u00f6 tahdo?\" Gawaine sanoi; \"silloin Jumala teit\u00e4 armahtakoon,\nsill\u00e4 min\u00e4 en tahdo kuulla teid\u00e4n juttujanne enk\u00e4 tiet\u00e4\u00e4 teid\u00e4n\nilkituumistanne.\"\n\"Enk\u00e4 liioin min\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n\", virkkoi Gareth herra ja samoin Gaheris herra,\n\"sill\u00e4 me emme ikin\u00e4 tahdo puhua pahaa tuosta miehest\u00e4.\"\nJa niin nuo kolme ritaria l\u00e4htiv\u00e4t kokouksesta.\n\"Oi\", virkkoi Gawaine ja Gaheris, \"nyt on t\u00e4m\u00e4 valtakunta turmion\npartaalla ja Py\u00f6re\u00e4n p\u00f6yd\u00e4n jalo veljeskunta hajalla.\"\nNiin he l\u00e4htiv\u00e4t pois sangen murheellisina. Sill\u00e4 hetkell\u00e4 Arthur\nkuningas saapui heid\u00e4n luokseen ja kysyi, mit\u00e4 melua siell\u00e4\npidettiin, ja silloin Agrivaine ja Mordred olivat vain liiankin\nvalmiit toistamaan h\u00e4ijyt panettelunsa. Kun kuningas ei oikein\ntahtonut uskoa mit\u00e4 he sanoivat, niin he panivat toimeen kavalan\njuonen, saadakseen Lancelot herran ansaan. Paetessaan v\u00e4ijyjiens\u00e4\nkynsist\u00e4 Lancelot herra l\u00f6i Agrivaine herran ja kaksitoista h\u00e4nen\nkumppaniaan kuoliaaksi. Mordred herran onnistui p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4 pakoon, ja\nratsastaen veriss\u00e4\u00e4n ja haavoitettuna kuninkaan luo h\u00e4n kertoi\nh\u00e4nelle jutun omalla tavallaan.\n\"Oi\", Arthur kuningas virkkoi, \"kovasti suren ett\u00e4 Lancelot herran\nkoskaan piti nousta minua vastaan. Nyt on aivan varmaan Py\u00f6re\u00e4n\np\u00f6yd\u00e4n jalo veljeskunta ikip\u00e4iviksi murrettu, sill\u00e4 h\u00e4nen puoltaan on\npit\u00e4v\u00e4 moni jalo ritari.\"\nKaikki k\u00e4vi niinkuin kuningas ja Gawaine herra olivat aavistaneet.\nSiit\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4st\u00e4 alkaen oli alituinen sota Englannissa, toiset ritarit\nkun puolsivat Lancelot herraa ja toiset kuningasta, ja molemmin\npuolin hukkaantui monta uljasta henke\u00e4. Ik\u00e4v\u00e4n onnettomuuden kautta\nLancelot herran puolue surmasi tapaturmaisesti jalot ritarit Gaheris\nherran ja Gareth herran, jotka sill\u00e4 hetkell\u00e4 olivat ilman aseita,\nja sen per\u00e4st\u00e4 Gawaine herrasta, joka siihen asti oli kielt\u00e4ytynyt\ntaistelemasta Lancelot herraa vastaan, tuli h\u00e4nen katkerin\nvihamiehens\u00e4. Monta kertaa kuningas ja Lancelot herra olisivat\ntehneet rauhan, mutta Gawaine herra yllytti kuningasta yh\u00e4 uuteen\ntaisteluun ja kehoitti h\u00e4nt\u00e4 olemaan kuuntelematta mit\u00e4\u00e4n sovinnon\nyrityksi\u00e4, vaikka Lancelot herra teki mit\u00e4 jaloimpia katumuksen\ntarjouksia ja ilmaisi mit\u00e4 syvint\u00e4 surua Gaheris ja Gareth herrojen\ntapaturmaisen surmaamisen vuoksi.\nViimein paavi l\u00e4hetti k\u00e4skyn ett\u00e4 taisteleminen oli lopetettava,\nja juhlallinen neuvottelu tapahtui kuninkaan ja Lancelot herran\nv\u00e4lill\u00e4 Carlislessa. Siell\u00e4 Lancelot herra puhui niin ylevi\u00e4\nsanoja, ett\u00e4 kaikki ritarit ja ladyt, jotka olivat l\u00e4sn\u00e4, itkiv\u00e4t\nh\u00e4nt\u00e4 kuullessaan, ja kyyneleet vuotivat pitkin Arthur kuninkaan\nposkia. Mutta tyydytt\u00e4\u00e4kseen Gawaine herran kostonhalua veljiens\u00e4\nmenett\u00e4misest\u00e4 kuningas oli jo luvannut, ett\u00e4 Lancelot herra oli\nkarkoitettava maasta, ja sen sijaan ett\u00e4 olisi suostunut h\u00e4nen\nkatumustarjouksiinsa ja hyv\u00e4n tahtonsa osoituksiin, h\u00e4n antoi nyt\nGawaine herran julistaa Lancelot herralle t\u00e4m\u00e4n maanpakotuomion,\nja ett\u00e4 h\u00e4net kiellettiin oleskelemasta Englannissa kauempaa kuin\nviisitoista p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4.\nSilloin Lancelot herra huokasi ja kyyneleet vuotivat pitkin h\u00e4nen\nposkiansa.\n\"Voi, sin\u00e4 jaloin kristillinen valtakunta\", h\u00e4n virkkoi, \"jota min\u00e4\nolen rakastanut yli kaikkien muiden valtakuntien, sinussa olen min\u00e4\nsaavuttanut suuren osan kunniaani ja nyt minun t\u00e4ytyy l\u00e4hte\u00e4 t\u00e4ll\u00e4\ntavalla! Totisesti kadun, ett\u00e4 koskaan tulin t\u00e4h\u00e4n valtakuntaan,\nkoska minut n\u00e4in h\u00e4pe\u00e4llisesti karkoitetaan, syytt\u00f6m\u00e4sti ja\nansaitsemattani! Mutta onni on niin vaihteleva ja py\u00f6r\u00e4 niin\nliikkuva, ei ole pysyv\u00e4ist\u00e4 asuinsijaa, ja sen saattaa todeksi\nn\u00e4ytt\u00e4\u00e4 moni vanha aikakirja jalon Hektorin ja Troilus uroon ja\nAleksanderin, tuon mahtavan valloittajan, suhteen ja viel\u00e4 monen\nmuunkin suhteen. Kun he olivat korkeimmillaan mahtavuudessaan, niin\nhe putosivat syvimm\u00e4lle, ja niin on k\u00e4ynyt minunkin\", Lancelot herra\nvirkkoi, \"sill\u00e4 t\u00e4ss\u00e4 valtakunnassa min\u00e4 olin suuressa kunniassa,\nja minun ja heimolaisritarieni kautta Py\u00f6re\u00e4 p\u00f6yt\u00e4 kasvoi enemm\u00e4n\nmaineessa kuin kenenk\u00e4\u00e4n muun kautta.\"\nSitten Lancelot herra lausui j\u00e4\u00e4hyv\u00e4iset Guinevere kuningattarelle\nkuninkaan ja heid\u00e4n kaikkien kuullen.\n\"Rouvani\", h\u00e4n virkkoi, \"nyt minun t\u00e4ytyy j\u00e4tt\u00e4\u00e4 teid\u00e4t ja t\u00e4m\u00e4 jalo\nveljeskunta ainiaaksi, ja koska niin on laita, niin pyyd\u00e4n teit\u00e4\nhartaasti rukoilemaan puolestani ja puhumaan minusta hyv\u00e4\u00e4. Ja jos\nkavalat kielet teit\u00e4 kovin ahdistavat, niin l\u00e4hett\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4 minulle sana,\nja jollei kenenk\u00e4\u00e4n ritarin k\u00e4det voi teit\u00e4 vapauttaa taistelun\nkautta, niin min\u00e4 teid\u00e4t vapautan.\"\nJa samalla Lancelot herra suuteli kuningatarta, ja sitten h\u00e4n sanoi\njulkisesti:\n\"Nyt tulkoon t\u00e4lle paikalle jokainen, joka uskaltaa sanoa, ettei\nkuningatar ole ollut uskollinen minun herralleni Arthurille! Saammepa\nn\u00e4hd\u00e4, kuka tahtoo puhua, jos uskaltaa puhua!\"\nSen sanottuaan h\u00e4n vei kuningattaren kuninkaan luo ja sitten Lancelot\nherra otti hyv\u00e4stit ja l\u00e4hti. Eik\u00e4 ollut kuningasta, herttuaa eik\u00e4\nkreivi\u00e4, ei paroonia eik\u00e4 ritaria, ei lady\u00e4 taikka vallasnaista,\njoka ei olisi valittanut, vaan kaikki he itkiv\u00e4t ik\u00e4\u00e4nkuin olisivat\nolleet pois suunniltansa. Ja kun jalo Lancelot herra otti ratsunsa ja\nratsasti pois Carlislesta, niin itkettiin ja nyyhkytettiin pelk\u00e4st\u00e4\nsurusta h\u00e4nen l\u00e4htiess\u00e4\u00e4n. Niin h\u00e4n suuntasi kulkunsa Ilojen puisto\nnimiseen linnaansa, ja sen per\u00e4st\u00e4 h\u00e4n nimitti sit\u00e4 aina Surujen\npuistoksi.\nJa niin l\u00e4hti Lancelot herra Arthur kuninkaan hovista ainiaaksi.\nKun Lancelot herra tuli Ilojen puistoon, niin h\u00e4n kutsui kokoon\nritarijoukkonsa ja kysyi heilt\u00e4, mit\u00e4 he tahtoivat tehd\u00e4. He\nvastasivat kaikki yhteen \u00e4\u00e4neen, ett\u00e4 he tahtoivat tehd\u00e4, mit\u00e4 h\u00e4n\nteki.\n\"Jalot kumppanit\", Lancelot herra virkkoi, \"minun t\u00e4ytyy l\u00e4hte\u00e4 t\u00e4st\u00e4\nkaikkein jaloimmasta valtakunnasta, ja suuresti minua surettaa,\nett\u00e4 minun nyt t\u00e4ytyy l\u00e4hte\u00e4, sill\u00e4 min\u00e4 en l\u00e4hde kunnialla. Sill\u00e4\nkarkoitettu mies ei koskaan l\u00e4hde kunnialla mist\u00e4\u00e4n valtakunnasta,\nja se on minun suruni syy, sill\u00e4 alati min\u00e4 pelk\u00e4\u00e4n ett\u00e4 minusta\nkirjoitetaan aikakirjoihin, ett\u00e4 minut karkoitettiin t\u00e4st\u00e4 maasta.\"\nSilloin puhui moni jalo ritari ja sanoi:\n\"Herra, jos teit\u00e4 haluttaa oleskella t\u00e4ss\u00e4 maassa, niin me emme\nteit\u00e4 j\u00e4t\u00e4, ja jos te ette n\u00e4e hyv\u00e4ksi t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 oleskella, niin ei\nyksik\u00e4\u00e4n t\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 olevista kunnon ritareista ole teit\u00e4 j\u00e4tt\u00e4v\u00e4. Koska\nme halusta otimme osaa teid\u00e4n k\u00e4rsimyksiinne ja vastuksiinne t\u00e4ss\u00e4\nvaltakunnassa, niin tiet\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4, ett\u00e4 me samoin menemme halusta teid\u00e4n\nkerallanne muihinkin maihin ja teemme siell\u00e4 sellaisia tekoja kuin\nte.\"\n\"Jalot herrat\", Lancelot virkkoi, \"ymm\u00e4rr\u00e4n teid\u00e4t hyvin ja kiit\u00e4n\nteit\u00e4, niinkuin voin. Ja teid\u00e4n tulee tiet\u00e4\u00e4, ett\u00e4 kaiken sen\nelannon, mink\u00e4 min\u00e4 olen perinyt, sen min\u00e4 luovutan teille t\u00e4ll\u00e4\ntapaa -- min\u00e4 tahdon nimitt\u00e4in jakaa kaikki elantoni ja maani\nvapaaehtoisesti teid\u00e4n keskenne, ja min\u00e4 itse tahdon omistaa yht\u00e4\nv\u00e4h\u00e4n kuin kukaan teist\u00e4; ja min\u00e4 uskon ja luotan, ett\u00e4 Jumala antaa\nteid\u00e4n tulla toimeen minun maillani, niin hyvin kuin koskaan ketk\u00e4\u00e4n\nritarit ovat toimeen tulleet.\"\nSilloin puhuivat kaikki ritarit yhdell\u00e4 haavaa: \"H\u00e4pe\u00e4 sille,\njoka teid\u00e4t j\u00e4tt\u00e4\u00e4! Sill\u00e4 me k\u00e4sit\u00e4mme kaikki, ett\u00e4 nyt ei t\u00e4ss\u00e4\nvaltakunnassa ole rauhaa oleva, vaan alinomaa riitaa ja taistelua,\nnyt kun Py\u00f6re\u00e4n p\u00f6yd\u00e4n veljeskunta on hajonnut. Sill\u00e4 Py\u00f6re\u00e4n p\u00f6yd\u00e4n\njalo veljeskunta tuki Arthur kuningasta ja heid\u00e4n uljuutensa kautta\nkuningas ja koko h\u00e4nen valtakuntansa oli levossa ja rauhassa. Ja\nsuureksi osaksi, sen sanoi jokainen, se tapahtui teid\u00e4n jaloutenne\nvuoksi.\"\n\"Totisesti\", Lancelot herra virkkoi, \"min\u00e4 kiit\u00e4n teit\u00e4 kaikkia\nhyvist\u00e4 sanoistanne, vaikka min\u00e4 hyvin tied\u00e4n, ettei t\u00e4m\u00e4n\nvaltakunnan lujuus ollut minun ansiokseni luettava. Mutta mik\u00e4li\nvoin, tein velvollisuuteni ja monen kapinoitsijan min\u00e4 aikoinani\nkukistin. Ja min\u00e4 luulen ett\u00e4 saamme niist\u00e4 nyt taas kuulla, ja se\nse minua suuresti surettaa. Sill\u00e4 min\u00e4 pelk\u00e4\u00e4n kovasti, ett\u00e4 Mordred\nherra saa aikaan ik\u00e4vyyksi\u00e4, sill\u00e4 h\u00e4n on ylenpalttisen kade ja\nantautuu ilkit\u00f6ihin.\"\nNiin kaikki ritarit p\u00e4\u00e4ttiv\u00e4t l\u00e4hte\u00e4 Lancelot herran kanssa, ja\nkokonaista sata miest\u00e4 l\u00e4hti h\u00e4nen mukanaan, ja he vannoivat,\netteiv\u00e4t ikin\u00e4 h\u00e4nt\u00e4 j\u00e4tt\u00e4isi, ei my\u00f6t\u00e4- eik\u00e4 vastoink\u00e4ymisess\u00e4.\nNiin he astuivat laivaan Cardiffissa ja purjehtivat Bayonneen Ranskan\nmaalle, jossa Lancelot herra oli monen maa-alueen haltia.\nGawaine herran kosto.\nArthur kuningas ja Gawaine herra eiv\u00e4t tyytyneet Lancelot herran\nkarkoitukseen, vaan kokosivat suuren sotajoukon ja valmistautuivat\najamaan h\u00e4nt\u00e4 takaa ja astuivat laivaan Cardiffissa. Poissaolonsa\naikana Arthur kuningas m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4si veljens\u00e4 pojan, Mordred herran, kaiken\nEnglannin p\u00e4\u00e4hallitusmieheksi ja asetti Guinevere kuningattaren\nh\u00e4nen valvontansa alle. Niin h\u00e4n kulki meren yli ja laski maihin\nLancelot herran alueelle, ja siell\u00e4 h\u00e4n Gawaine herran kostonhalun\nvaikutuksesta poltti ja h\u00e4vitti kaikki mit\u00e4 saattoi.\nKun sana tuotiin Lancelot herralle, ett\u00e4 Arthur kuningas ja\nGawaine herra olivat nousseet maihin ja parhaillaan h\u00e4vittiv\u00e4t\nh\u00e4nen alueitaan, niin h\u00e4nen ritarinsa kehoittivat h\u00e4nt\u00e4 l\u00e4htem\u00e4\u00e4n\ntaisteluun, mutta h\u00e4n vastasi olevansa per\u00e4ti haluton vuodattamaan\nkristityn verta, niin ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n ensin tahtoi l\u00e4hett\u00e4\u00e4 sanansaattajan\nArthur kuninkaan luo katsomaan, saataisiinko sovinto aikaan, sill\u00e4\nrauha oli aina parempi kuin sota. Niin Lancelot l\u00e4hetti er\u00e4\u00e4n neidon\nArthur kuninkaan luo pyyt\u00e4m\u00e4\u00e4n, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n lakkaisi sotimasta h\u00e4nen\nmaitansa vastaan.\nNeito l\u00e4hti matkalle hevosen sel\u00e4ss\u00e4, ja kun h\u00e4n tuli Arthur\nkuninkaan teltalle, niin h\u00e4n laskeutui alas satulasta, ja h\u00e4nt\u00e4 oli\nvastassa muuan kunnon ritari, Lucan herra, juomanlaskija.\n\"Jalo neito, tuletteko J\u00e4rven herran Lancelotin l\u00e4hett\u00e4m\u00e4n\u00e4?\"\n\"Tulen, herra\", h\u00e4n virkkoi, \"tulen t\u00e4nne puhumaan herrani kuninkaan\nkanssa.\"\n\"Oi\", Lucan herra virkkoi, \"herrani kuningas rakastaisi kyll\u00e4\nLancelotia, mutta Gawaine herra ei tahdo sit\u00e4 sallia.\" Ja sitten h\u00e4n\nlis\u00e4si: \"Min\u00e4 rukoilen Jumalaa, neito, ett\u00e4 te onnistuisitte hyvin,\nsill\u00e4 kaikki me kuninkaan seuralaiset soisimme, ett\u00e4 Lancelot herra\ntekisi parempia asetekoja kuin kukaan muu ritari.\"\nNiin sanoen Lucan vei neidon Arthur kuninkaan luo, joka istui Gawaine\nherran seurassa, kuullakseen mit\u00e4 neito sanoisi. Kun t\u00e4m\u00e4 oli sanonut\nsanottavansa, niin kyyneleet t\u00e4yttiv\u00e4t kuninkaan silm\u00e4t, ja kaikki\nlordit olivat iloissaan saadessaan kehoittaa kuningasta sopimaan\nLancelot herran kanssa, kaikki muut paitsi Gawaine herra.\n\"Valtiaani, enoni, mit\u00e4 aiotte tehd\u00e4?\" h\u00e4n virkkoi. \"Tahdotteko\nk\u00e4\u00e4nty\u00e4 takaisin nyt, kun olette p\u00e4\u00e4ssyt n\u00e4in pitk\u00e4lle t\u00e4ll\u00e4\nmatkallanne? Koko maailma teit\u00e4 on pilkkaava.\"\n\"Ei\", Arthur kuningas sanoi, \"te tied\u00e4tte kyll\u00e4, Gawaine herra, ett\u00e4\nmin\u00e4 teen, niinkuin te minua neuvotte; ja kuitenkin minusta tuntuu,\nettei olisi hyv\u00e4 hyl\u00e4t\u00e4 Lancelot herran kauniita sovinnon tarjouksia.\nMutta koska olen tullut n\u00e4in pitk\u00e4lle t\u00e4ll\u00e4 matkalla, niin te saatte\nantaa neidolle vastauksen, sill\u00e4 min\u00e4 en voi s\u00e4\u00e4lilt\u00e4ni h\u00e4nelle\npuhua, h\u00e4nen tarjouksensa ovat niin jalomieliset.\"\nSilloin Gawaine herra sanoi neidolle t\u00e4ten: \"Neito, sanokaa Lancelot\nherralle, ett\u00e4 on turhaa vaivaa koettaa suostuttaa enoani sovintoon.\nIlmoittakaa h\u00e4nelle, ett\u00e4 jos h\u00e4n olisi tahtonut saada rauhaa aikaan,\nniin h\u00e4nen olisi pit\u00e4nyt yritt\u00e4\u00e4 ennemmin, sill\u00e4 nyt se on liian\nmy\u00f6h\u00e4ist\u00e4. Ja sanokaa ett\u00e4 min\u00e4, Gawaine herra, l\u00e4het\u00e4n h\u00e4nelle\nsellaisen sanan, ett\u00e4 min\u00e4 lupaan kautta kaiken kunniani, mit\u00e4 olen\nvelkap\u00e4\u00e4 Jumalalle ja ritaris\u00e4\u00e4dylleni, ett\u00e4 en j\u00e4t\u00e4 Lancelot herraa\nrauhaan, ennenkuin h\u00e4n on surmannut minut taikka min\u00e4 h\u00e4net.\"\nNiin neito itki ja l\u00e4hti, ja moni silm\u00e4 siell\u00e4 kyyneltyi. H\u00e4n palasi\nLancelot herran luo, jolla oli kaikki ritarinsa ymp\u00e4rill\u00e4\u00e4n, ja kun\nLancelot herra kuuli t\u00e4m\u00e4n vastauksen, niin kyyneleet juoksivat h\u00e4nen\nposkiansa pitkin.\nSilloin h\u00e4nen jalot ritarinsa astuivat pitkin askelin h\u00e4nen\nymp\u00e4rilleen ja sanoivat: \"Lancelot herra, miksi te noin surette?\nAjatelkaa, kuka olette ja mit\u00e4 miehi\u00e4 me olemme, ja sallikaa meid\u00e4n\njalojen miesten mitell\u00e4 voimiamme keskell\u00e4 taistelutannerta.\"\n\"Se saattaa helposti tapahtua\", Lancelot virkkoi, \"mutta en\nmilloinkaan ole ollut n\u00e4in vastahakoinen ottelemaan, sill\u00e4 yh\u00e4 min\u00e4\narastelen tuota jaloa kuningasta, joka teki minut ritariksi. Kun min\u00e4\nen voi en\u00e4\u00e4 kauemmin pit\u00e4\u00e4 rauhaa, niin minun t\u00e4ytyy puolustautua,\nja se on minulle suuremmaksi kunniaksi, ja meille kaikille, kuin\nett\u00e4 rynt\u00e4isimme tuota jaloa kuningasta vastaan, jota olemme kaikki\npalvelleet.\" Sitten he eiv\u00e4t puhuneet en\u00e4\u00e4 enemp\u00e4\u00e4, ja ilta kun oli,\nniin he meniv\u00e4t levolle.\nAamulla varhain p\u00e4iv\u00e4n koittaessa, kun ritarit katsoivat ulos,\nniin he n\u00e4kiv\u00e4t Bayonnen kaupungin ylt\u00e4ymp\u00e4ri piiritetyksi, ja\ntikaportaita oli kiinnitetty muureille. Silloin he alkoivat taistella\nArthur kuninkaan sotajoukkoa vastaan ja pieksiv\u00e4t heit\u00e4 ankarasti\nvalleilta. Niin piirityst\u00e4 kesti kuusi kuukautta, ja paljon v\u00e4ke\u00e4\nhakattiin molemmin puoli maahan. Silloin tapahtui er\u00e4\u00e4n\u00e4 p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4,\nett\u00e4 Gawaine herra tuli porttien edustalle kiireest\u00e4 kantap\u00e4\u00e4h\u00e4n\nasestettuna, jalon ratsun sel\u00e4ss\u00e4 ja iso peitsi k\u00e4dess\u00e4\u00e4n.\n\"Miss\u00e4 olet, sin\u00e4 kavala petturi, Lancelot herra?\" h\u00e4n huusi kovalla\n\u00e4\u00e4nell\u00e4. \"Miksi sin\u00e4 piileskelet lymypaikoissa ja vallien takana,\nkuten pelkuri? Tule esiin nyt, sin\u00e4 kavala petturiritari, ett\u00e4 saan\nkostaa sinun ruumiisi p\u00e4\u00e4ll\u00e4 kolmen veljeni kuoleman.\"\nJokaisen sanan t\u00e4st\u00e4 kuuli Lancelot herra ja h\u00e4nen ritarinsa, ja\nnyt ei Lancelot herra voinut tehd\u00e4 mit\u00e4\u00e4n muuta kuin puolustautua\ntaikka sitten joutua h\u00e4v\u00e4istyksi ikip\u00e4ivikseen. Lancelot herra\nk\u00e4ski satuloida parhaimman ratsunsa ja noutaa aseensa ja tuoda ne\nkaikki linnan portille, ja sitten h\u00e4n puhui kovalla \u00e4\u00e4nell\u00e4 Arthur\nkuninkaalle:\n\"Valtiaani Arthur ja jalo kuningas, joka teitte minut ritariksi,\ntiet\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4, ett\u00e4 olen sangen raskaalla mielell\u00e4 teid\u00e4n t\u00e4htenne, ett\u00e4\nte minua t\u00e4ten vainootte, ja min\u00e4 olen aina teit\u00e4 s\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4nyt, sill\u00e4\njos min\u00e4 olisin ollut kostonhimoinen, niin olisin voinut kohdata\nteit\u00e4 avonaisella tantereella ja kesytt\u00e4\u00e4 t\u00e4ydellisesti teid\u00e4n\nkarskimmat ritarinne. Nyt min\u00e4 olen pid\u00e4tt\u00e4nyt itse\u00e4ni puolen vuotta\nja olen siet\u00e4nyt, ett\u00e4 te ja Gawaine herra olette tehneet, mit\u00e4\nolette tahtoneet, ja nyt min\u00e4 en voi sit\u00e4 kauemmin k\u00e4rsi\u00e4 -- nyt\nminun on pakko puolustautua, koska Gawaine herra on syytt\u00e4nyt minua\npetturuudesta. Se on suuresti minun tahtoani vastaan, ett\u00e4 minun\nkoskaan t\u00e4ytyy taistella ket\u00e4\u00e4n vastaan teid\u00e4n heimostanne. Mutta\nnyt min\u00e4 en voi en\u00e4\u00e4 malttaa mielt\u00e4ni, te ajatte minut taisteluun,\nniinkuin mets\u00e4nel\u00e4imen hy\u00f6kk\u00e4ykseen.\"\n\"Lancelot herra\", Gawaine huusi, \"jos sin\u00e4 uskallat otella, niin j\u00e4t\u00e4\nl\u00f6rp\u00f6ttelysi ja tule ulos ja kevent\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4mme syd\u00e4mi\u00e4mme.\"\nArthur kuninkaan sotajoukko seisoi alallaan kaupungin ulkopuolella,\nkaikki erikseen syrj\u00e4ss\u00e4, ja Lancelotin jaloja ritareita tuli ulos\njoukottain, niin paljon, ett\u00e4 kun Arthur kuningas n\u00e4ki sen ritari- ja\nmiesparven, ihmetteli h\u00e4n ja sanoi itsekseen:\n\"Voi, ett\u00e4 Lancelot herra sent\u00e4\u00e4n nousikaan minua vastaan, sill\u00e4 nyt\nmin\u00e4 n\u00e4en, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n on minun vertaiseni voimassa.\"\nNiin tehtiin sopimus, ettei kukaan l\u00e4hestyisi Lancelotia eik\u00e4\nGawainea taikka olisi miss\u00e4\u00e4n tekemisiss\u00e4 heid\u00e4n kanssansa, kunnes\njompikumpi kaatuisi tai antautuisi.\nOlipa, vuosikausia sitten, muuan pyh\u00e4 mies antanut kummallisen lahjan\nja suosionosoituksen Gawaine herralle, eik\u00e4 sit\u00e4 tiet\u00e4nyt yksik\u00e4\u00e4n\npaitsi Arthur kuningas. Jokaisena vuoden p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\u00e4 kello yhdeks\u00e4st\u00e4\naamulla hamaan puolip\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4n asti h\u00e4nen voimansa ja v\u00e4kevyytens\u00e4\nkasvoi kolminkertaiseksi siit\u00e4 mit\u00e4 se tavallisesti oli. Kuningas\nm\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4si useimmat aseleikit pidett\u00e4viksi sin\u00e4 aikana p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4, mik\u00e4\nsaattoi Gawaine herran voittamaan suurta kunniaa.\nSiten Lancelot herra taisteli Gawaine herran kanssa, ja kun h\u00e4n\ntunsi t\u00e4m\u00e4n v\u00e4kevyyden yh\u00e4 kasvavan, niin h\u00e4n kummasteli ja pelk\u00e4si\nkovin joutuvansa h\u00e4pe\u00e4\u00e4n. Mutta kun puolip\u00e4iv\u00e4n aika oli ohitse,\nniin Gawaine herra ei voinut luottaa muuhun kuin omiin voimiinsa,\nja silloin Lancelot tunsi, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n k\u00e4vi heikommaksi. Silloin h\u00e4n\niski kaksinkertaisella innolla ja antoi Gawaine herralle sellaisen\nkolhauksen kyp\u00e4riin, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n kaatui kyljellens\u00e4 maahan, ja Lancelot\nvet\u00e4ytyi pois h\u00e4nen luotansa.\n\"Miksi sin\u00e4 poistut?\" Gawaine herra virkkoi. \"K\u00e4\u00e4nny takaisin, sin\u00e4\nkavala petturiritari, ja tapa minut! Sill\u00e4 jos sin\u00e4 j\u00e4t\u00e4t minut\nt\u00e4ten, niin kun paranen, olen taas otteleva sinun kanssasi.\"\n\"Min\u00e4 olen Jumalan avulla kest\u00e4v\u00e4 teit\u00e4 vastaan, herra\", Lancelot\nherra vastasi, \"mutta tiet\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4, Gawaine herra, etten min\u00e4 koskaan ly\u00f6\nkaatunutta ritaria.\"\nNiin Lancelot herra palasi kaupunkiin, ja Gawaine herra kannettiin\nyhteen Arthur kuninkaan teltoista, jossa l\u00e4\u00e4k\u00e4reit\u00e4 tuli h\u00e4nen\nluoksensa ja sitoi h\u00e4nen haavansa.\nSitten Arthur kuningas vaipui sairaaksi surusta, kun Gawaine herra\noli niin vaikeasti loukkaantunut, ja sen sodan takia, jota h\u00e4n\nja Lancelot herra k\u00e4viv\u00e4t kesken\u00e4\u00e4n. Ne jotka kuuluivat Arthur\nkuninkaan puolueeseen, jatkoivat piirityst\u00e4 kahakoiden hiukan muurien\nulkopuolella, ja ne, jotka olivat muurien sis\u00e4puolella, vartioivat\nvallejansa ja puolustautuivat, kun tarvis vaati.\nGawaine herra makasi sairaana teltassaan noin kolme viikkoa, ja\nheti kun h\u00e4n saattoi nousta satulaan, tuli h\u00e4n uudestaan Bayonnen\np\u00e4\u00e4portin edustalle ja huusi Lancelotia taisteluun. Ja uudestaan\nLancelot haavoitti h\u00e4net vaikeasti ja sy\u00f6ksi h\u00e4net maahan.\n\"Petturiritari\", kiljui Gawaine herra, \"tied\u00e4, etten min\u00e4 viel\u00e4 ole\nly\u00f6ty; tule l\u00e4helle ja suorita t\u00e4m\u00e4 taistelu loppuun asti.\"\n\"Min\u00e4 en tahdo tehd\u00e4 enemp\u00e4\u00e4, kuin olen tehnyt\", Lancelot herra\nvirkkoi, \"sill\u00e4 kun n\u00e4en teid\u00e4t jaloillanne, tahdon taistella teit\u00e4\nvastaan, niin kauan kuin n\u00e4en teid\u00e4n seisovan pystyss\u00e4; mutta tappaa\nhaavoitettu mies, joka ei voi seisaallaan pysy\u00e4, Jumala varjelkoon\nminua moisesta h\u00e4pe\u00e4st\u00e4!\" Ja sitten h\u00e4n k\u00e4\u00e4ntyi ja l\u00e4hti kulkemaan\nkaupunkia kohden.\n\"Lancelot herra, kun olen parantunut, olen taas taisteleva sinun\nkanssasi\", huusi Gawaine herra h\u00e4nen per\u00e4\u00e4ns\u00e4, \"sill\u00e4 min\u00e4 en j\u00e4t\u00e4\nsinua rauhaan, ennenkuin toinen meist\u00e4 on surmansa saanut.\"\nPiiritys jatkui, ja Gawaine herra makasi sairaana melkein\nkuukauden. Ja kun h\u00e4n oli taas toipunut ja valmis kolmen p\u00e4iv\u00e4n\nkuluessa taistelemaan Lancelot herraa vastaan, niin viestej\u00e4 saapui\nArthur kuninkaalle Englannista, jotka panivat kuninkaan ja h\u00e4nen\nsotajoukkonsa liikkeelle.\nL\u00e4nnen taistelu.\nSill\u00e4 aikaa kun Arthur kuningas oli poissa Ranskassa, puuhasi\nMordred, joka oli m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4tty Englannin hallitsijaksi, omien h\u00e4ijyjen\njuoniensa toteuttamista. H\u00e4n kyh\u00e4si kirjeit\u00e4, ik\u00e4\u00e4nkuin ne olisivat\ntulleet meren takaa, ja n\u00e4m\u00e4 kirjeet ilmoittivat, ett\u00e4 Arthur\nkuningas oli saanut surmansa taistelussaan Lancelot herran kanssa.\nSent\u00e4hden Mordred kutsui parlamentin ja kaikki lordit kokoon ja\npani heid\u00e4t valitsemaan h\u00e4net kuninkaaksi. Niin h\u00e4net kruunattiin\nCanterburyss\u00e4, ja h\u00e4n piti siell\u00e4 pitoja viisitoista p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4. Sitten\nh\u00e4n vet\u00e4ytyi Camelotiin ja l\u00e4hetti hakemaan Guinevere kuningatarta ja\nilmoitti h\u00e4nelle suoraan haluavansa naida h\u00e4net. Kaikki valmistettiin\njuhlaa varten ja h\u00e4\u00e4p\u00e4iv\u00e4 m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4ttiin.\nGuinevere kuningatar oli suuressa tuskassa, mutta h\u00e4n ei uskaltanut\njulkisesti vastustaa Mordred herraa ja senvuoksi h\u00e4n oli\nsuostuvinansa. Sitten h\u00e4n pyysi lupaa menn\u00e4 Lontooseen ostaakseen\nkaikellaisia kapineita, joita h\u00e4iss\u00e4 tarvittiin. H\u00e4nen kauniiden\nsanojensa t\u00e4hden Mordred herra h\u00e4nt\u00e4 uskoikin ja antoi h\u00e4nelle luvan\nl\u00e4hte\u00e4.\nMutta heti Lontooseen saavuttuaan Guinevere kuningatar valtasi\nTowerin ja t\u00e4ytti sen kaikessa kiireess\u00e4 kaikenmoisilla elintarpeilla\nja varusti sen hyvin miehill\u00e4 ja piti sit\u00e4 hallussaan.\nKun Mordred n\u00e4ki tulleensa petetyksi, niin h\u00e4n vihastui ylenm\u00e4\u00e4rin.\nH\u00e4n meni ja alkoi ankarasti piiritt\u00e4\u00e4 Lontoon Toweria ja rynt\u00e4si\nsit\u00e4 vastaan isoilla sotakoneilla ja tuliputkilla, mutta ei voinut\nsit\u00e4 valloittaa. H\u00e4n koetti kaikilla keinoilla, kirjeill\u00e4 ja\nl\u00e4hettil\u00e4ill\u00e4, saada Guinevere kuningatarta tulemaan ulos Towerista,\nmutta se ei auttanut ensink\u00e4\u00e4n. Eiv\u00e4t hyv\u00e4t eiv\u00e4tk\u00e4 pahat sanat\nsaaneet kuningatarta uskomaan itse\u00e4\u00e4n toistamiseen tuon petturin\nk\u00e4siin. H\u00e4n vastasi lyhyesti, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n ennemmin surmaisi itsens\u00e4,\nkuin rupeisi Mordred herran puolisoksi.\nSilloin sana saapui Mordredille, ett\u00e4 Arthur kuningas oli j\u00e4tt\u00e4nyt\nLancelot herran piirityksen ja ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli tulossa kotiin suuren\nsotajoukon kanssa kostaakseen sisarenpojallensa. Heti Mordred silloin\nl\u00e4hetti k\u00e4skykirjeit\u00e4 kaikkiin Englannin paroonikuntiin ja joukottain\nker\u00e4\u00e4ntyi kansaa h\u00e4nen luoksensa. Sill\u00e4 heid\u00e4n keskuudessaan levisi\nyleisesti puhe, ett\u00e4 Arthurin alaisina heill\u00e4 ei ollut muuta kuin\nsotaa ja taisteluita ja Mordredin alaisina heill\u00e4 oli iloa ja riemua\nja onnen p\u00e4ivi\u00e4. Niin Arthur kuningasta paneteltiin ja parjattiin.\nJa monta oli, jotka Arthur kuningas oli tyhj\u00e4st\u00e4 nostanut ja antanut\nheille maita, joilla ei nyt ollut ainoatakaan suopeaa sanaa h\u00e4nest\u00e4\nsanottavana.\nNiin Mordred herra marssi suuren sotajoukon kanssa Doveriin, ja sinne\nArthur kuningas saapui suurella laivastolla, sill\u00e4v\u00e4lin kuin Mordred\noli valmiina odottamassa, est\u00e4\u00e4kseen h\u00e4nen maallenousuansa. Silloin\nsiell\u00e4 kiiti aluksia, isoja ja pieni\u00e4, t\u00e4ynn\u00e4 uljaita aseuroita, ja\npaljon siell\u00e4 surmattiin jaloja ritareita, ja moni karski parooni\nkaatui kummallakin puolella. Mutta Arthur kuningas oli niin rohkea,\nettei mik\u00e4\u00e4n voinut est\u00e4\u00e4 h\u00e4nen maallenousuansa, ja rajuina h\u00e4nen\nritarinsa h\u00e4nt\u00e4 seurasivat. He ajoivat Mordredin takaisin, ja h\u00e4n\npakeni, ja koko h\u00e4nen armeijansa.\nKun taistelu oli ohitse, niin Arthur kuningas hautasi ne, jotka\nolivat kaatuneet, ja silloin jalo Gawaine ritari l\u00f6ydettiin er\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4\nveneest\u00e4 aivan henkitoreissaan. H\u00e4nt\u00e4 oli taas haavoitettu siihen\nhaavaan, jonka Lancelot herra h\u00e4nelle oli Bayonnessa antanut, ja nyt\nh\u00e4nen t\u00e4ytyi kuolla.\n\"Voi, Gawaine herra\", kuningas virkkoi, \"t\u00e4ss\u00e4 sin\u00e4 nyt makaat, sin\u00e4,\njota min\u00e4 kaikkein enimm\u00e4n maailmassa rakastin, ja nyt minun iloni on\nmennyt! Lancelot herrassa ja sinussa oli minun suurin iloni, ja nyt\nmin\u00e4 olen menett\u00e4nyt teid\u00e4t molemmat.\"\n\"Minun enoni, Arthur kuningas\", Gawaine virkkoi, \"tiet\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4 ett\u00e4\nminun kuolinp\u00e4iv\u00e4ni on tullut, ja kaikki on tapahtunut minun oman\nkiivauteni ja itsep\u00e4isyyteni kautta. Jos Lancelot herra olisi ollut\nteid\u00e4n luonanne, niinkuin h\u00e4nen tapansa oli, niin t\u00e4m\u00e4 onneton sota\nei olisi ikin\u00e4 alkanut, ja kaikkeen t\u00e4h\u00e4n min\u00e4 olen syyp\u00e4\u00e4. Sill\u00e4\nLancelot herra ja h\u00e4nen sukunsa piti miehuudellaan kaikkia teid\u00e4n\nvihollisianne kurissa ja pelossa, ja nyt teid\u00e4n t\u00e4ytyy olla ilman\nLancelot herraa. Mutta voi, min\u00e4 en tahtonut sopia h\u00e4nen kanssaan,\nja senvuoksi min\u00e4 pyyd\u00e4n teit\u00e4, antakaa minulle paperia, kyn\u00e4 ja\nmustetta, ett\u00e4 min\u00e4 kirjoittaisin omalla k\u00e4dell\u00e4ni kirjeen Lancelot\nherralle.\"\nSitten Gawaine herra kirjoitti kirjeen Lancelot herralle, \"kaikkien\njalojen ritarien kukalle\", kertoen h\u00e4nelle kaikki, mit\u00e4 oli\ntapahtunut, ja ett\u00e4 h\u00e4nen t\u00e4ytyi kuolla kun h\u00e4nt\u00e4 oli haavoitettu\nsamaan haavaan, jonka Lancelot herra h\u00e4nelle Bayonnessa oli antanut.\n\"Niin, Lancelot herra\", h\u00e4n jatkoi, \"kaiken sen rakkauden t\u00e4hden,\nmit\u00e4 on ollut konsanaan meid\u00e4n v\u00e4lill\u00e4mme, \u00e4l\u00e4 vitkastele, vaan\ntule kiireisesti meren yli, jotta sin\u00e4 uljaiden ritariesi avulla\nsaattaisit auttaa sit\u00e4 jaloa kuningasta, joka sinut on ritariksi\ntehnyt, sill\u00e4 h\u00e4n on sangen ahtaalla kavalan petturin, velipuoleni\nMordredin ahdistamana.\"\nSitten Gawaine herra pyysi, ett\u00e4 Arthur kuningas l\u00e4hett\u00e4isi hakemaan\nLancelot herraa ja rakastaisi h\u00e4nt\u00e4 yli muiden ritarien; ja sitten\npuolenp\u00e4iv\u00e4n hetkell\u00e4 Gawaine herra heitti henkens\u00e4.\nSen j\u00e4lkeen Arthur kuningas taisteli viel\u00e4 Mordred herran kanssa ja\najoi h\u00e4net l\u00e4nteenp\u00e4in l\u00e4pi Englannin Salisbury\u00e4 kohden, ja siell\u00e4\nm\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4ttiin p\u00e4iv\u00e4, jolloin kuninkaan ja Mordred herran piti otella\nhiekkakummulla Salisburyn luona l\u00e4hell\u00e4 meren rantaa.\nTaistelun edellisen\u00e4 y\u00f6n\u00e4 Arthur kuningas n\u00e4ki ihmeellisen unen. H\u00e4n\noli istuvinaan istuimella koroitetulla paikalla, puettuna kaikkein\nkalleimpaan kultapukuun, mit\u00e4 tehd\u00e4 saattoi; ja istuin oli kiinni\npy\u00f6r\u00e4ss\u00e4. Ja kuninkaan alla pitk\u00e4n matkan p\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4 oli olevinaan\nhirvitt\u00e4v\u00e4n syv\u00e4, musta vesi ja siin\u00e4 oli kaikenlaisia k\u00e4\u00e4rmeit\u00e4 ja\nmatoja ja petoel\u00e4imi\u00e4, rumia ja kauheita. Ja \u00e4kki\u00e4 py\u00f6r\u00e4 py\u00f6r\u00e4hti\nylh\u00e4\u00e4lt\u00e4 alasp\u00e4in, ja kuningas putosi k\u00e4\u00e4rmeiden sekaan, ja jokainen\npeto tarttui h\u00e4neen kiinni jostakin j\u00e4senest\u00e4.\nSilloin kuningas kirkaisi vuoteellaan maatessansa: \"Auttakaa!\" Ja\nritarit, asemiehet ja sotilaat juoksivat kuninkaan luo ja her\u00e4ttiv\u00e4t\nh\u00e4net, ja h\u00e4n oli niin s\u00e4ik\u00e4hdyksiss\u00e4\u00e4n, ettei tiet\u00e4nyt miss\u00e4 oli.\nSitten h\u00e4n vaipui taas unenhorroksiin, niin ettei h\u00e4n nukkunut eik\u00e4\nollut oikein valveillakaan. Ja h\u00e4nest\u00e4 n\u00e4ytti, ett\u00e4 Gawaine herra\ntuli h\u00e4nen luoksensa ja varoitti h\u00e4nt\u00e4 taistelemasta aamulla Mordred\nherran kanssa, sill\u00e4 jos h\u00e4n niin tekisi, niin h\u00e4n saisi varmasti\nsurmansa. Gawaine herra neuvoi h\u00e4nt\u00e4 tekem\u00e4\u00e4n aselevon kuukaudeksi,\nsill\u00e4 sen ajan kuluessa Lancelot herra saapuisi kaikkine jaloine\nritareineen ja pelastaisi Arthur kuninkaan ja surmaisi Mordred herran.\nSitten Gawaine herra katosi.\nHeti kun Arthur kuningas her\u00e4si, h\u00e4n noudatti luokseen kaikki\nviisaat lordinsa ja piispansa ja kertoi heille n\u00e4kyns\u00e4 ja Gawaine\nherran varoituksen. He meniv\u00e4t silloin heti Mordred herran luokse ja\ntekiv\u00e4t aselevon ja lupasivat h\u00e4nelle, ett\u00e4 niin kauan kuin Arthur\nkuningas el\u00e4isi, h\u00e4n saisi pit\u00e4\u00e4 Cornwallin ja Kentin ja kuninkaan\nkuoleman j\u00e4lkeen h\u00e4n saisi koko Englannin. Viel\u00e4 p\u00e4\u00e4tettiin, ett\u00e4\nArthur kuningas ja Mordred herra neuvottelisivat molempain armeijain\nkeskell\u00e4, ja he saisivat kumpikin ottaa nelj\u00e4toista henke\u00e4 mukaansa.\nT\u00e4h\u00e4n kokoukseen menness\u00e4\u00e4n Arthur kuningas varoitti kaikkea\narmeijaansa, ett\u00e4 jos he vain n\u00e4kiv\u00e4t miekan paljastettavan, niin\nheid\u00e4n tuli hy\u00f6k\u00e4t\u00e4 rajusti p\u00e4\u00e4lle ja tappaa Mordred petturi, sill\u00e4\nh\u00e4neen ei kuningas ensink\u00e4\u00e4n luottanut. Ja samalla tapaa my\u00f6s Mordred\nherra varoitti joukkoansa.\nNiin he kohtasivat toisensa, kuten m\u00e4\u00e4r\u00e4tty oli, ja sopivat ja olivat\nt\u00e4ydellisesti yht\u00e4 mielt\u00e4. Viini\u00e4 noudettiin, ja he joivat.\nJuuri sill\u00e4 hetkell\u00e4 livahti kyyk\u00e4\u00e4rme pienest\u00e4 kanervapensaasta ja\npisti er\u00e4st\u00e4 ritaria jalkaan. Kun ritari tunsi pistoa jalassaan, niin\nh\u00e4n katsoi alas ja n\u00e4ki kyyk\u00e4\u00e4rmeen. Silloin h\u00e4n paljasti miekkansa\ntappaakseen kyyk\u00e4\u00e4rmeen eik\u00e4 ajatellut sill\u00e4 mit\u00e4\u00e4n ik\u00e4vyyksi\u00e4\ntuottavansa.\nMutta kun sotajoukot molemmin puolin n\u00e4kiv\u00e4t miekan paljastettavan,\nniin he puhalsivat torvia ja pasuunoita ja kirkuivat kauheasti. Niin\nmolemmat armeijat tarttuivat aseisiin, eik\u00e4 milloinkaan oltu n\u00e4hty\nsurkeampaa taistelua miss\u00e4\u00e4n kristillisess\u00e4 maassa.\nKaiken sen p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4 he taistelivat lakkaamatta, ja kun ilta tuli, niin\nei kaikista Arthur kuninkaan jaloista ritareista ollut j\u00e4\u00e4nyt eloon\nmuita kuin Lucan herra, juomanlaskija, ja h\u00e4nen veljens\u00e4, Bedivere\nherra, ja molemmat olivat vaikeasti haavoitettuja. Silloin Arthur\nkuningas vihastui ylenm\u00e4\u00e4rin, kun h\u00e4n n\u00e4ki, ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n sill\u00e4 tapaa oli\nmenett\u00e4nyt kaiken v\u00e4kens\u00e4.\n\"Voi ett\u00e4 minun koskaan piti n\u00e4kem\u00e4n t\u00e4t\u00e4 surkeata p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4! Sill\u00e4 nyt\nminun loppuni l\u00e4hestyy\", Arthur virkkoi. \"Mutta suokoon Jumala, ett\u00e4\nsaisin tiet\u00e4\u00e4, miss\u00e4 on tuo petturi, Mordred herra, joka on kaiken\nt\u00e4m\u00e4n pahan aikaansaanut.\"\nSilloin Arthur kuningas huomasi Mordred herran, joka nojasi\nmiekkaansa keskell\u00e4 isoa kaatuneiden joukkoa. Lucan herra koetti\nest\u00e4\u00e4 kuningasta taistelemasta Mordred herran kanssa, muistuttaen\nh\u00e4nelle Gawaine herran varoitusta.\n\"Kiitos Jumalan, te olette voittanut taistelun\", h\u00e4n virkkoi; \"sill\u00e4\nt\u00e4ss\u00e4 meit\u00e4 on kolme elossa, mutta paitsi Mordred herraa ei tuolla\nole yht\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n eloon j\u00e4\u00e4nyt. Ja jos te nyt lakkaatte, niin t\u00e4m\u00e4 kovan\nkohtalon p\u00e4iv\u00e4 on ohitse.\"\n\"Olkoon minulle kuolemaksi tai el\u00e4m\u00e4ksi\", kuningas sanoi, \"kun n\u00e4en\nh\u00e4net tuolla yksin\u00e4\u00e4n, niin enp\u00e4 h\u00e4nt\u00e4 ole p\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4v\u00e4 k\u00e4sist\u00e4ni, sill\u00e4\nmilloinkaan en voi saada sopivampaa tilaisuutta.\"\n\"Jumala teit\u00e4 auttakoon!\" sanoi Bedivere herra.\nSilloin Arthur kuningas tarttui molemmin k\u00e4sin peitseens\u00e4 ja sy\u00f6ksyi\nMordredia kohden huutaen:\n\"Petturi, nyt on sinun kuolinhetkesi tullut!\"\nKun Mordred herra kuuli Arthur kuninkaan huudon, niin h\u00e4n rynt\u00e4si\npaljastetuin miekoin h\u00e4nt\u00e4 vastaan. Silloin Arthur kuningas sy\u00f6ksi\npeitsens\u00e4 l\u00e4pi Mordredin ruumiin, niin ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n vaipui kuoliaana\nmaahan; mutta Mordredin miekka puhkaisi Arthur kuninkaan kyp\u00e4rin ja\np\u00e4\u00e4kallon, niin ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n vaipui py\u00f6rryksiss\u00e4 tantereelle.\nMaailman jaloin ritari.\nLucan herra ja Bedivere herra nostivat yl\u00f6s Arthur kuninkaan ja\nkantoivat h\u00e4net pieneen kappeliin, joka oli l\u00e4hell\u00e4 meren rantaa,\nmutta Lucan herra oli niin vaikeasti haavoitettu ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n vaipui\nkuoliaana maahan, ennenkuin he olivat enn\u00e4tt\u00e4neet et\u00e4isemp\u00e4\u00e4n\nturvapaikkaan. Bedivere herra itki veljens\u00e4 kuolemaa, mutta Arthur\nkuningas k\u00e4ski h\u00e4nen j\u00e4tt\u00e4\u00e4 murehtimisensa, sill\u00e4 h\u00e4nen oma henkens\u00e4\nteki pikaista l\u00e4ht\u00f6\u00e4.\n\"Sent\u00e4hden\", Arthur virkkoi, \"ota sin\u00e4 Excalibur, minun oiva\nmiekkani, ja mene se mukanasi tuonne rannalle; ja kun sinne saavut,\nniin sinun tulee heitt\u00e4\u00e4 minun miekkani veteen, ja tule takaisin ja\nkerro minulle mit\u00e4 siell\u00e4 n\u00e4et.\"\n\"Herrani ja kuninkaani\", Bedivere virkkoi, \"teid\u00e4n tahtonne\ntapahtukoon, ja koetan tuoda teille pian tietoja takaisin.\"\nNiin Bedivere herra l\u00e4hti ja matkalla h\u00e4n katseli tuota jaloa\nmiekkaa, kuinka sen kahva ja nuppi oli kokonaan kalliista kivist\u00e4\ntehty. Silloin h\u00e4n sanoi itsekseen: \"Jos min\u00e4 heit\u00e4n t\u00e4m\u00e4n komean\nmiekan veteen, niin ei siit\u00e4 ikin\u00e4 hy\u00f6ty\u00e4 ole, muuta kuin ik\u00e4vyyksi\u00e4\nja vahinkoa.\"\nNiin Bedivere herra piiloitti Excaliburin puun alle ja meni takaisin\nkuninkaan luo niin nopeasti, kuin p\u00e4\u00e4si, ja sanoi olleensa rannalla\nja heitt\u00e4neens\u00e4 miekan veteen.\n\"Mit\u00e4 sin\u00e4 siell\u00e4 n\u00e4it?\" kuningas virkkoi.\n\"Herra\", h\u00e4n sanoi, \"min\u00e4 en n\u00e4hnyt muuta kuin tuulta ja aaltoja.\"\n\"Se on valheellista puhetta\", kuningas virkkoi. \"Palaa senvuoksi\nnopeasti takaisin ja tee minun k\u00e4skyni niin totta kuin olet minulle\nrakas ja kallis; \u00e4l\u00e4 miekkaani s\u00e4\u00e4st\u00e4, vaan heit\u00e4 se veteen.\"\nSilloin Bedivere meni takaisin ja otti miekan k\u00e4teens\u00e4; ja silloin\nh\u00e4nest\u00e4 tuntui synnilt\u00e4 ja h\u00e4pe\u00e4lt\u00e4 heitt\u00e4\u00e4 pois tuo jalo miekka;\nniin h\u00e4n uudestaan piiloitti miekan ja palasi Arthurin luo ja sanoi\nh\u00e4nelle tehneens\u00e4 h\u00e4nen k\u00e4skyns\u00e4.\n\"Mit\u00e4 n\u00e4it sin\u00e4 siell\u00e4?\" kuningas virkkoi.\n\"Herra\", h\u00e4n sanoi, \"min\u00e4 en n\u00e4hnyt muuta kuin veden v\u00e4reily\u00e4 ja\nlaineiden loiskinaa.\"\n\"Voi sinua ep\u00e4rehellinen petturi!\" Arthur kuningas huusi, \"kahdesti\nolet sin\u00e4 minun pett\u00e4nyt. Kukapa olisi luullut ett\u00e4 sin\u00e4, joka olet\nollut minulle niin rakas ja kallis, sin\u00e4, jota on nimitetty jaloksi\nritariksi, minut miekan kalliiden koristuksien t\u00e4hden pett\u00e4isit!\nMutta mene nyt nopeasti takaisin, sill\u00e4 sinun pitk\u00e4 viivyttelysi\nsaattaa minun henkeni suureen vaaraan.\"\nSilloin Bedivere herra l\u00e4hti ja nouti miekan ja vei sen rannalle ja\nsitoi miekan hihnan kahvan ymp\u00e4rille ja heitti miekan niin kauas\nveteen kuin saattoi. Silloin tuli k\u00e4sivarsi ja k\u00e4si veden yl\u00e4puolelle\nja tarttui siihen ja pudisteli sit\u00e4 kolmasti ja heilahutti sit\u00e4\nja sitten k\u00e4si ja miekka katosi veteen. Niin Bedivere herra tuli\ntakaisin kuninkaan luokse ja kertoi h\u00e4nelle mit\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli n\u00e4hnyt.\n\"Voi\", kuningas virkkoi, \"auta minua t\u00e4\u00e4lt\u00e4, sill\u00e4 liian kauan\npelk\u00e4\u00e4n jo viipyneeni.\"\nSilloin Bedivere herra otti Arthur kuninkaan selk\u00e4\u00e4ns\u00e4 ja kantoi\nh\u00e4net meren rannalle. Ja kun he saapuivat sinne, niin laiva ajautui\naivan kiinni rantaan, ja siin\u00e4 oli monta kaunista lady\u00e4; heill\u00e4\noli kaikilla mustat huput p\u00e4\u00e4ss\u00e4\u00e4n, ja he itkiv\u00e4t ja huusivat, kun\nn\u00e4kiv\u00e4t Arthur kuninkaan.\n\"Aseta minut nyt laivaan\", kuningas sanoi, ja Bedivere herra teki\nniin hell\u00e4varoen.\nJa siell\u00e4 kolme kuningatarta otti h\u00e4net vastaan, suuresti valitellen,\nja niin he laskivat h\u00e4net alas, ja Arthur kuningas kallisti p\u00e4\u00e4ns\u00e4\nyhden kuningattaren helmaan.\n\"Oi kallis veli\", t\u00e4m\u00e4 virkkoi, \"miksi te olette viipynyt niin kauan\npoissa minun luotani?\"\nSill\u00e4 tapaa he sitten soutivat pois rannalta, ja Bedivere herra\nkatseli kuinka he meniv\u00e4t h\u00e4nen luotaan.\n\"Oi, herrani ja kuninkaani Arthur\", h\u00e4n huusi, \"kuinka minun nyt k\u00e4y,\nkun te l\u00e4hdette luotani ja j\u00e4t\u00e4tte minut t\u00e4nne yksin vihollisteni\njoukkoon?\"\n\"\u00c4l\u00e4 sure\", kuningas virkkoi, \"ja tee mit\u00e4 parhaaksi n\u00e4et, sill\u00e4\nminusta ei sinulla en\u00e4\u00e4 ole apua eik\u00e4 turvaa. Sill\u00e4 min\u00e4 menen\nAvilionin laaksoon parantuakseni vaikeasta haavastani. Ja jollet sin\u00e4\nen\u00e4\u00e4 saa kuulla minusta, niin rukoile minun sieluni puolesta.\"\nSill\u00e4 tapaa Arthur kuningas vietiin pois laivassa, jossa oli nuo\nkolme kuningatarta: yksi oli Arthur kuninkaan sisar Morgan le Fay,\ntoinen oli Pohjois-Walesin kuningatar, kolmas oli Aution maan\nkuningatar. My\u00f6s oli laivassa Nimue, J\u00e4rven neito, ja t\u00e4m\u00e4 lady oli\ntehnyt paljon Arthur kuninkaan hyv\u00e4ksi.\nJa muutamat sanovat, ett\u00e4 Arthur kuningas kuoli ja ett\u00e4 nuo kolme\nkuningatarta veiv\u00e4t h\u00e4nen ruumiinsa pieneen luostariin, joka oli\nl\u00e4hell\u00e4 Glastonbury\u00e4, miss\u00e4 se haudattiin kappeliin. Mutta monet\novat sit\u00e4 mielt\u00e4 ett\u00e4 Arthur kuningas ei olekaan kuollut, vaan\nasustaa nyt jossain kauniissa rauhan laaksossa, ja ett\u00e4 h\u00e4n kerran\nviel\u00e4 on palaava Englantia hallitsemaan. Sill\u00e4 h\u00e4nen haudallaan on\nkirjoitettuna t\u00e4m\u00e4 s\u00e4e:\n_\"T\u00e4ss\u00e4 lep\u00e4\u00e4 Arthur, joka kuningas oli ja joka kuningas on oleva.\"_\nKun sanoma saapui Guinevere kuningattarelle, ett\u00e4 Arthur kuningas oli\nkaatunut ja kaikki jalot ritarit ja Mordred herra, niin h\u00e4n l\u00e4ksi\nsalaa viiden ladyn keralla Amesburyyn. Siell\u00e4 h\u00e4n meni luostarin\nturviin ja vietti loppup\u00e4iv\u00e4ns\u00e4 paastoten, rukoillen ja tehden\nlaupeudent\u00f6it\u00e4.\nSill\u00e4v\u00e4lin Lancelot herra oli saanut Gawaine herran kirjeen, ja\nniin kiireesti kuin suinkin saattoi h\u00e4n riensi takaisin Englantiin\njaloine ritarijoukkoineen. Mutta kun he sinne saapuivat, niin he\nn\u00e4kiv\u00e4t tulleensa liian my\u00f6h\u00e4\u00e4n, Arthur kuningas ja Mordred herra\nolivat molemmat kaatuneet. Lancelot herra l\u00e4hti silloin etsim\u00e4\u00e4n\nGuinevere kuningatarta, ja viimein h\u00e4n l\u00f6ysikin h\u00e4net Amesburyn\nnunnaluostarista. Kuningatar kertoi h\u00e4nelle, ettei h\u00e4n en\u00e4\u00e4 aikonut\npalata maailmaan, ja kun Lancelot herra sen kuuli, niin h\u00e4nkin p\u00e4\u00e4tti\nvet\u00e4yty\u00e4 luostariin.\nH\u00e4n otti ratsunsa ja ratsasti isoon mets\u00e4\u00e4n, ja niin tapahtui,\nett\u00e4 h\u00e4n tuli siihen pieneen Glastonburyn luona olevaan kappeliin,\nmihin Arthur kuninkaan ruumis oli haudattu. Bedivere herra oli\nsiell\u00e4 viel\u00e4, ja Lancelot herra kysyi kunnon piispalta, joka oli\nerakko, eik\u00f6 h\u00e4nkin saisi sinne j\u00e4\u00e4d\u00e4. T\u00e4nne Bors herra seurasi\nh\u00e4nt\u00e4, ja monet muut h\u00e4nen jalot ritarinsa, joilla ei ollut halua\nl\u00e4hte\u00e4 pois, n\u00e4hdess\u00e4\u00e4n Lancelot herran antautuneen sellaiseen\nhurskauden harjoitukseen. Sill\u00e4 tapaa he eliv\u00e4t kuusi vuotta\nkatumusharjoituksissa, v\u00e4litt\u00e4m\u00e4tt\u00e4 v\u00e4h\u00e4\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4n t\u00e4m\u00e4n maailman\nrikkauksista ja ollenkaan surkeilematta omia vaivojaan, kun n\u00e4kiv\u00e4t\nmaailman jaloimman ritarin niin suuressa k\u00e4rsimyksess\u00e4.\nLancelot herra oli el\u00e4nyt luostarissa noin seitsem\u00e4n vuotta, kun\ner\u00e4\u00e4n\u00e4 y\u00f6n\u00e4 haamu tuli h\u00e4nen luoksensa, k\u00e4skien h\u00e4nen rient\u00e4\u00e4\nAmesburyyn, sill\u00e4 siell\u00e4 h\u00e4n tapaisi Guinevere kuningattaren\nkuolleena. Ja Lancelotin k\u00e4skettiin ottaa mukaansa hevospaarit ja\nmenn\u00e4 ritarikumppaneineen hakemaan Guinevere kuningattaren ruumista\nja haudata h\u00e4net puolisonsa, jalon Arthur kuninkaan, viereen.\nNiin kaikki tehtiin, kuten haamu oli k\u00e4skenyt, ja Guinevere\nkuningatar tuotiin Amesburyst\u00e4 Glastonburyyn suurella komeudella\nja murheen osoituksilla. Satakunta soihtua oli palamassa paarien\nymp\u00e4rill\u00e4, ja Lancelot ja seitsem\u00e4n h\u00e4nen ritareistaan kulki alinomaa\nsen ymp\u00e4ri laulaen ja lausuen pyhi\u00e4 rukouksia ja suitsuttaen\nsuitsutusta. Sill\u00e4 tapaa he tulivat Amesburyst\u00e4 Glastonburyyn, ja\naamulla Guinevere kuningatar haudattiin pieneen kappeliin, Arthur\nkuninkaan hautaan.\nKun arkku oli pantu maahan, niin Lancelot herra py\u00f6rtyi ja makasi\npitk\u00e4n aikaa hiljaa, kunnes tuo kunnon piispa, joka oli erakko, tuli\nulos ja her\u00e4tti h\u00e4net.\n\"Moitetta ansaitsette\", h\u00e4n virkkoi, \"sill\u00e4 te vihastutatte Jumalan\nmoisella murehtimisella.\"\n\"Totisesti\", Lancelot herra sanoi, \"uskon ett\u00e4 en vihastuta Jumalaa,\nsill\u00e4 h\u00e4n tuntee tarkoitukseni. Minun suruni ei l\u00e4htenyt eik\u00e4 l\u00e4hde\nmist\u00e4\u00e4n synnillisest\u00e4 syyst\u00e4, mutta minun suruni ei saata ikin\u00e4\nloppua. Sill\u00e4 kun min\u00e4 muistelen kuningattaren kauneutta ja sit\u00e4\njaloutta, mik\u00e4 oli h\u00e4nen ja kuninkaan olennossa, ja kun min\u00e4 n\u00e4in\nheid\u00e4n siten makaavan t\u00e4ss\u00e4 yhdess\u00e4 kuolleina, niin totisesti minun\nsyd\u00e4meni oli haljeta. Ja kun min\u00e4 muistelin, kuinka minun ylpeyteni,\nkopeuteni ja vikojeni t\u00e4hden henkens\u00e4 menettiv\u00e4t ne, joilla ei ollut\nvertaa miss\u00e4\u00e4n koko kristikunnassa, niin tiet\u00e4k\u00e4\u00e4\", Lancelot herra\nvirkkoi, \"ett\u00e4 t\u00e4m\u00e4 heid\u00e4n hyvyytens\u00e4 ja minun pahuuteni muisto\npainoi niin raskaana mielt\u00e4ni, ett\u00e4 en saattanut pystyss\u00e4 pysy\u00e4.\"\nSen j\u00e4lkeen Lancelot herra sairastui, s\u00f6i ja joi vain v\u00e4h\u00e4n ja\nkuihtui v\u00e4hitellen pois, sill\u00e4 ei kenk\u00e4\u00e4n voinut tehd\u00e4 mit\u00e4\u00e4n, mik\u00e4\nolisi h\u00e4nt\u00e4 lohduttanut. Alinomaa, y\u00f6t\u00e4 ja p\u00e4iv\u00e4\u00e4 h\u00e4n rukoili,\nmutta silloin t\u00e4ll\u00f6in h\u00e4n nukahti katkonaiseen uneen ja usein h\u00e4net\ntavattiin makaamassa Arthur kuninkaan ja Guinevere kuningattaren\nhaudalla. Viimein h\u00e4n k\u00e4vi niin heikoksi, ettei h\u00e4n jaksanut en\u00e4\u00e4\nnousta vuoteelta, ja silloin h\u00e4n l\u00e4hetti hakemaan tuota kunnon\npiispaa ja kaikkia uskollisia kumppaneitaan ja pyysi ett\u00e4 h\u00e4nelle\nannettaisiin viimeinen uskonnon pyhist\u00e4 menoista. Kun kaikki oli\ntapahtunut asianmukaisessa j\u00e4rjestyksess\u00e4, niin h\u00e4n pyysi piispaa,\nett\u00e4 kun h\u00e4n oli kuollut, niin h\u00e4nen toverinsa veisiv\u00e4t h\u00e4nen\nruumiinsa h\u00e4nen omaan linnaansa Ilojen puistoon, sill\u00e4 h\u00e4n oli\npyh\u00e4sti luvannut tahtovansa tulla sinne haudatuksi.\nSilloin itkiv\u00e4t ja v\u00e4\u00e4nteliv\u00e4t k\u00e4si\u00e4ns\u00e4 h\u00e4nen ritarikumppaninsa.\nSin\u00e4 y\u00f6n\u00e4, kun kaikki nukkuivat, tuo kunnon piispa n\u00e4ki kauniin unen.\nH\u00e4n oli n\u00e4kevin\u00e4ns\u00e4 Lancelot herran suuren enkelijoukon ymp\u00e4r\u00f6im\u00e4n\u00e4\nja he kantoivat h\u00e4nt\u00e4 taivasta kohden ja taivaan portit aukenivat\nh\u00e4nelle.\n\"Se on vain uni\", sanoi Bors herra. \"Mutta en usko ett\u00e4 Lancelot\nherran k\u00e4y muulla tapaa kuin hyv\u00e4sti.\"\n\"Se on hyvin luultavaa\", piispa virkkoi. \"Mutta menk\u00e4\u00e4 h\u00e4nen\nvuoteensa \u00e4\u00e4reen, niin saatte tiet\u00e4\u00e4 totuuden.\"\nKun Bors herra ja toiset ritarit tulivat Lancelot herran vuoteen\n\u00e4\u00e4reen, niin he huomasivat h\u00e4net aivan kuolleeksi, ja h\u00e4n makasi\nik\u00e4\u00e4nkuin olisi hymyillyt ja h\u00e4nen ymp\u00e4rill\u00e4\u00e4n oli ylt\u00e4\u00e4ns\u00e4\nsuloisinta tuoksua, mit\u00e4 he ikin\u00e4 olivat tunteneet.\nAamulla sielumessun laulettuaan piispa ja ritarit asettivat Lancelot\nherran samoille hevospaareille, joilla Guinevere kuningatar oli\nviety Glastonburyyn ja veiv\u00e4t h\u00e4net h\u00e4nen omaan linnaansa Ilojen\npuistoon ja he pitiv\u00e4t lakkaamatta satakunnan soihtuja palamassa\nh\u00e4nen ymp\u00e4rill\u00e4\u00e4n; ja niin viidentoista p\u00e4iv\u00e4n kuluessa he tulivat\nIlojen puistoon. Siell\u00e4 he laskivat h\u00e4net kirkon kuoriin ja lauloivat\nja lukivat monta rukousta ja virtt\u00e4 h\u00e4nen ruumiinsa \u00e4\u00e4ress\u00e4; ja\nh\u00e4nen kasvonsa j\u00e4tettiin peitt\u00e4m\u00e4tt\u00e4, jotta kaikki kansa saisi h\u00e4nt\u00e4\nkatsella, sill\u00e4 se oli sen ajan tapa.\nJa silloin juuri, heid\u00e4n pit\u00e4ess\u00e4\u00e4n jumalanpalvelusta, tuli Marisin\nEctor herra, joka seitsem\u00e4n vuoden ajan oli etsinyt velje\u00e4ns\u00e4\nLancelotia kautta kaiken Englannin, Skotlannin ja Walesin. Kun h\u00e4n\nkuuli h\u00e4lin\u00e4n ja n\u00e4ki, ett\u00e4 Ilojen puiston kirkonkuori oli valaistu,\nniin h\u00e4n astui alas ratsultaan ja tuli kuoriin ja siell\u00e4 h\u00e4n n\u00e4ki\nihmisi\u00e4 laulamassa ja itkem\u00e4ss\u00e4. Ja he tunsivat kaikki Ector herran,\nmutta t\u00e4m\u00e4 ei tuntenut heit\u00e4. Silloin Bors herra meni Ector herran\nluo ja kertoi h\u00e4nelle, kuinka siin\u00e4 makasi h\u00e4nen veljens\u00e4 Lancelot\nherra kuolleena. Ector herra heitti kilpens\u00e4, miekkansa ja kyp\u00e4rins\u00e4\nluotaan, ja kun h\u00e4n katseli Lancelot herran kasvoja, niin vaikeata\nolisi mink\u00e4\u00e4n kielen kertoa, kuinka haikeasti h\u00e4n valitti veljens\u00e4\nkuolemaa.\n\"Oi Lancelot\", h\u00e4n sanoi, \"sin\u00e4 olit kaikkien kristillisten ritarien\np\u00e4\u00e4. Ja nyt tohdin sanoa\", virkkoi Ector herra, \"ett\u00e4 sinulle,\nLancelot herra, joka siin\u00e4 makaat, ett\u00e4 sinulle ei kenk\u00e4\u00e4n maallinen\nritari konsanaan vertoja vet\u00e4nyt; ja sin\u00e4 olit kohteliain ritari,\nmik\u00e4 koskaan on kilpe\u00e4 kantanut; ja sin\u00e4 olit asetoverisi uskollisin\nyst\u00e4v\u00e4, mik\u00e4 koskaan on noussut ratsulle; ja sin\u00e4 olit uskollisin\nrakastaja kaikkien syntisten miesten joukossa, jotka koskaan ovat\nnaista rakastaneet; ja sin\u00e4 olit uljain urho, mik\u00e4 koskaan on miekkaa\nmitellyt; ja sin\u00e4 olit komein mies, mit\u00e4 koskaan on n\u00e4hty ritarien\nparvessa; ja sin\u00e4 olit lempein mies ja ritarillisin, mik\u00e4 koskaan\non aterioinut naisten seurassa; ja sin\u00e4 olit verivihollisesi j\u00e4ykin\nvastustaja, mik\u00e4 koskaan on peist\u00e4 tanaan laskenut.\"\nJa silloin oli itkua ja valitusta ylenm\u00e4\u00e4rin.\nLoppu.", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg - Arthur kuningas ja h\u00e4nen jalot ritarinsa\n"}, {"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1451, "culture": " English\n", "content": "Produced by Mike Lough, and David Widger\nLe Morte D\u2019Arthur\nKing Arthur and of his Noble Knights of the Round Table\nby Thomas Malory\nIN TWO VOLS.\u2014VOL. II\nContents\n BOOK X.\n CHAPTER I. How Sir Tristram jousted, and smote down King Arthur,\n because he told him not the cause why he bare that shield.\n CHAPTER II. How Sir Tristram saved Sir Palomides\u2019 life, and how they\n promised to fight together within a fortnight.\n CHAPTER III. How Sir Tristram sought a strong knight that had smitten\n him down, and many other knights of the Round Table.\n CHAPTER IV. How Sir Tristram smote down Sir Sagramore le Desirous and\n Sir Dodinas le Savage.\n CHAPTER V. How Sir Tristram met at the peron with Sir Launcelot, and\n how they fought together unknown.\n CHAPTER VI. How Sir Launcelot brought Sir Tristram to the court, and\n of the great joy that the king and other made for the coming of Sir\n Tristram.\n CHAPTER VII. How for the despite of Sir Tristram King Mark came with\n two knights into England, and how he slew one of the knights.\n CHAPTER VIII. How King Mark came to a fountain where he found Sir\n Lamorak complaining for the love of King Lot\u2019s wife.\n CHAPTER IX. How King Mark, Sir Lamorak, and Sir Dinadan came to a\n castle, and how King Mark was known there.\n CHAPTER X. How Sir Berluse met with King Mark, and how Sir Dinadan\n took his part.\n CHAPTER XI. How King Mark mocked Sir Dinadan, and how they met with\n six knights of the Round Table.\n CHAPTER XII. How the six knights sent Sir Dagonet to joust with King\n Mark, and how King Mark refused him.\n CHAPTER XIII. How Sir Palomides by adventure met King Mark flying, and\n how he overthrew Dagonet and other knights.\n CHAPTER XIV. How King Mark and Sir Dinadan heard Sir Palomides making\n great sorrow and mourning for La Beale Isoud.\n CHAPTER XV. How King Mark had slain Sir Amant wrongfully to-fore King\n Arthur, and Sir Launcelot fetched King Mark to King Arthur.\n CHAPTER XVI. How Sir Dinadan told Sir Palomides of the battle between\n Sir Launcelot and Sir Tristam.\n CHAPTER XVII. How Sir Lamorak jousted with divers knights of the\n castle wherein was Morgan le Fay.\n CHAPTER XVIII. How Sir Palomides would have jousted for Sir Lamorak\n with the knights of the castle.\n CHAPTER XIX. How Sir Lamorak jousted with Sir Palomides, and hurt him\n grievously.\n CHAPTER XX. How it was told Sir Launcelot that Dagonet chased King\n Mark, and how a knight overthrew him and six knights.\n CHAPTER XXI. How King Arthur let do cry a jousts, and how Sir Lamorak\n came in, and overthrew Sir Gawaine and many other.\n CHAPTER XXII. How King Arthur made King Mark to be accorded with Sir\n Tristram, and how they departed toward Cornwall.\n CHAPTER XXIII. How Sir Percivale was made knight of King Arthur, and\n how a dumb maid spake, and brought him to the Round Table.\n CHAPTER XXIV. How Sir Lamorak visited King Lot\u2019s wife, and how Sir\n Gaheris slew her which was his own mother.\n CHAPTER XXV. How Sir Agravaine and Sir Mordred met with a knight\n fleeing, and how they both were overthrown, and of Sir Dinadan.\n CHAPTER XXVI. How King Arthur, the Queen, and Launcelot received\n letters out of Cornwall, and of the answer again.\n CHAPTER XXVII. How Sir Launcelot was wroth with the letter that he\n received from King Mark, and of Dinadan which made a lay of King Mark.\n CHAPTER XXVIII. How Sir Tristram was hurt, and of a war made to King\n Mark; and of Sir Tristram how he promised to rescue him.\n CHAPTER XXIX. How Sir Tristram overcame the battle, and how Elias\n desired a man to fight body for body.\n CHAPTER XXI. How Sir Elias and Sir Tristram fought together for the\n truage, and how Sir Tristram slew Elias in the field.\n CHAPTER XXXI. How at a great feast that King Mark made an harper came\n and sang the lay that Dinadan had made.\n CHAPTER XXXII. How King Mark slew by treason his brother Boudwin, for\n good service that he had done to him.\n CHAPTER XXXIII. How Anglides, Boudwin\u2019s wife, escaped with her young\n son, Alisander le Orphelin, and came to the Castle of Arundel.\n CHAPTER XXXIV. How Anglides gave the bloody doublet to Alisander, her\n son, the same day that he was made knight, and the charge withal.\n CHAPTER XXXV. How it was told to King Mark of Sir Alisander, and how\n he would have slain Sir Sadok for saving his life.\n CHAPTER XXXVI. How Sir Alisander won the prize at a tournament, and of\n Morgan le Fay: and how he fought with Sir Malgrin, and slew him.\n CHAPTER XXXVII. How Queen Morgan le Fay had Alisander in her castle,\n and how she healed his wounds.\n CHAPTER XXXVIII. How Alisander was delivered from Queen Morgan le Fay\n by the means of a damosel.\n CHAPTER XXXIX. How Alisander met with Alice la Beale Pilgrim, and how\n he jousted with two knights; and after of him and of Sir Mordred.\n CHAPTER XL. How Sir Galahalt did do cry a jousts in Surluse, and Queen\n Guenever\u2019s knights should joust against all that would come.\n CHAPTER XLI. How Sir Launcelot fought in the tournament, and how Sir\n Palomides did arms there for a damosel.\n CHAPTER XLII. How Sir Galahalt and Palomides fought together, and of\n Sir Dinadan and Sir Galahalt.\n CHAPTER XLIII. How Sir Archade appealed Sir Palomides of treason, and\n how Sir Palomides slew him.\n CHAPTER XLIV. Of the third day, and how Sir Palomides jousted with Sir\n Lamorak, and other things.\n CHAPTER XLV. Of the fourth day, and of many great feats of arms.\n CHAPTER XLVI. Of the Fifth day, and how Sir Lamorak behaved him.\n CHAPTER XLVII. How Sir Palomides fought with Corsabrin for a lady, and\n how Palomides slew Corsabrin.\n CHAPTER XLVIII. Of the sixth day, and what then was done.\n CHAPTER XLIX. Of the seventh battle, and how Sir Launcelot, being\n disguised like a maid, smote down Sir Dinadan.\n CHAPTER L. How by treason Sir Tristram was brought to a tournament for\n to have been slain, and how he was put in prison.\n CHAPTER LI. How King Mark let do counterfeit letters from the Pope,\n and how Sir Percivale delivered Sir Tristram out of prison.\n CHAPTER LII. How Sir Tristram and La Beale Isoud came unto England,\n and how Sir Launcelot brought them to Joyous Gard.\n CHAPTER LIII. How by the counsel of La Beale Isoud Sir Tristram rode\n armed, and how he met with Sir Palomides.\n CHAPTER LIV. Of Sir Palomides, and how he met with Sir Bleoberis and\n with Sir Ector, and of Sir Pervivale.\n CHAPTER LV. How Sir Tristram met with Sir Dinadan, and of their\n devices, and what he said to Sir Gawaine\u2019s brethren.\n CHAPTER LVI. How Sir Tristram smote down Sir Agravaine and Sir\n Gaheris, and how Sir Dinadan was sent for by La Beale Isoud.\n CHAPTER LVII. How Sir Dinadan met with Sir Tristram, and with jousting\n with Sir Palomides, Sir Dinadan knew him.\n CHAPTER LVIII. How they approached the Castle Lonazep, and of other\n devices of the death of Sir Lamorak.\n CHAPTER LIX. How they came to Humber bank, and how they found a ship\n there, wherein lay the body of King Hermance.\n CHAPTER LX. How Sir Tristram with his fellowship came and were with an\n host which after fought with Sir Tristram; and other matters.\n CHAPTER LXI. How Palomides went for to fight with two brethren for the\n death of King Hermance.\n CHAPTER LXII. The copy of the letter written for to revenge the king\u2019s\n death, and how Sir Palomides fought for to have the battle.\n CHAPTER LXIII. Of the preparation of Sir Palomides and the two\n brethren that should fight with him.\n CHAPTER LXIV. Of the battle between Sir Palomides and the two\n brethren, and how the two brethren were slain.\n CHAPTER LXV. How Sir Tristram and Sir Palomides met Breuse Saunce\n Pit\u00e9, and how Sir Tristram and La Beale Isoud went unto Lonazep.\n CHAPTER LXVI. How Sir Palomides jousted with Sir Galihodin, and after\n with Sir Gawaine, and smote them down.\n CHAPTER LXVII. How Sir Tristram and his fellowship came into the\n tournament of Lonazep; and of divers jousts and matters.\n CHAPTER LXVIII. How Sir Tristram and his fellowship jousted, and of\n the noble feats that they did in that tourneying.\n CHAPTER LXIX. How Sir Tristram was unhorsed and smitten down by Sir\n Launcelot, and after that Sir Tristram smote down King Arthur.\n CHAPTER LXX. How Sir Tristram changed his harness and it was all red,\n and how he demeaned him, and how Sir Palomides slew Launcelot\u2019s horse.\n CHAPTER LXXI. How Sir Launcelot said to Sir Palomides, and how the\n prize of that day was given unto Sir Palomides.\n CHAPTER LXXII. How Sir Dinadan provoked Sir Tristram to do well.\n CHAPTER LXXIII. How King Arthur and Sir Lancelot came to see La Beale\n Isoud, and how Palomides smote down King Arthur.\n CHAPTER LXXIV. How the second day Palomides forsook Sir Tristram, and\n went to the contrary part against him.\n CHAPTER LXXV. How Sir Tristram departed of the field, and awaked Sir\n Dinadan, and changed his array into black.\n CHAPTER LXXVI. How Sir Palomides changed his shield and his armour for\n to hurt Sir Tristram, and how Sir Launcelot did to Sir Tristram.\n CHAPTER LXXVII. How Sir Tristram departed with La Beale Isoud, and how\n Palomides followed and excused him.\n CHAPTER LXXVIII. How King Arthur and Sir Launcelot came unto their\n pavilions as they sat at supper, and of Sir Palomides.\n CHAPTER LXXIX. How Sir Tristram and Sir Palomides did the next day,\n and how King Arthur was unhorsed.\n CHAPTER LXXX. How Sir Tristram turned to King Arthur\u2019s side, and how\n Palomides would not.\n CHAPTER LXXXI. How Sir Bleoberis and Sir Ector reported to Queen\n Guenever of the beauty of La Beale Isoud.\n CHAPTER LXXXII. How Epinogris complained by a well, and how Sir\n Palomides came and found him, and of their both sorrowing.\n CHAPTER LXXXIII. How Sir Palomides brought Sir Epinogris his lady; and\n how Sir Palomides and Sir Safere were assailed.\n CHAPTER LXXXIV. How Sir Palomides and Sir Safere conducted Sir\n Epinogris to his castle, and of other adventures.\n CHAPTER LXXXV. How Sir Tristram made him ready to rescue Sir\n Palomides, but Sir Launcelot rescued him or he came.\n CHAPTER LXXXVI. How Sir Tristram and Launcelot, with Palomides, came\n to joyous Gard; and of Palomides and Sir Tristram.\n CHAPTER LXXXVII. How there was a day set between Sir Tristram and Sir\n Palomides for to fight, and how Sir Tristram was hurt.\n CHAPTER LXXXVIII. How Sir Palomides kept his day to have foughten, but\n Sir Tristram might not come; and other things.\n BOOK XI.\n CHAPTER I. How Sir Launcelot rode on his adventure, and how he holp a\n dolorous lady from her pain, and how that he fought with a dragon.\n CHAPTER II. How Sir Launcelot came to Pelles, and of the Sangreal, and\n of Elaine, King Pelles\u2019 daughter.\n CHAPTER III. How Sir Launcelot was displeased when he knew that he had\n lain by Dame Elaine, and how she was delivered of Galahad.\n CHAPTER IV. How Sir Bors came to Dame Elaine and saw Galahad, and how\n he was fed with the Sangreal.\n CHAPTER V. How Sir Bors made Sir Pedivere to yield him, and of\n marvellous adventures that he had, and how he achieved them.\n CHAPTER VI. How Sir Bors departed; and how Sir Launcelot was rebuked\n of Queen Guenever, and of his excuse.\n CHAPTER VII. How Dame Elaine, Galahad\u2019s mother, came in great estate\n unto Camelot, and how Sir Launcelot behaved him there.\n CHAPTER VIII. How Dame Brisen by enchantment brought Sir Launcelot to\n Dame Elaine\u2019s bed, and how Queen Guenever rebuked him.\n CHAPTER IX. How Dame Elaine was commanded by Queen Guenever to avoid\n the court, and how Sir Launcelot became mad.\n CHAPTER X. What sorrow Queen Guenever made for Sir Launcelot, and how\n he was sought by knights of his kin.\n CHAPTER XI. How a servant of Sir Aglovale\u2019s was slain, and what\n vengeance Sir Aglovale and Sir Percivale did therefore.\n CHAPTER XII. How Sir Pervivale departed secretly from his brother, and\n how he loosed a knight bound with a chain, and of other doings.\n CHAPTER XIII. How Sir Percivale met with Sir Ector, and how they\n fought long, and each had almost slain other.\n CHAPTER XIV. How by miracle they were both made whole by the coming of\n the holy vessel of Sangreal.\n BOOK XII.\n CHAPTER I. How Sir Launcelot in his madness took a sword and fought\n with a knight, and leapt in a bed.\n CHAPTER II. How Sir Lancelot was carried in an horse litter, and how\n Sir Launcelot rescued Sir Bliant, his host.\n CHAPTER III. How Sir Launcelot fought against a boar and slew him, and\n how he was hurt, and brought unto an hermitage.\n CHAPTER IV. How Sir Launcelot was known by Dame Elaine, and was borne\n into a chamber and after healed by the Sangreal.\n CHAPTER V. How Sir Launcelot, after that he was whole and had his\n mind, he was ashamed, and how that Elaine desired a castle for him.\n CHAPTER VI. How Sir Launcelot came into the joyous Isle, and there he\n named himself Le Chevaler Mal Fet.\n CHAPTER VII. Of a great tourneying in the Joyous Isle, and how Sir\n Pervivale and Sir Ector came thither, and Sir Percivale fought with\n him.\n CHAPTER VIlI. How each of them knew other, and of their great\n courtesy, and how his brother Sir Ector came unto him, and of their\n joy.\n CHAPTER IX. How Sir Bors and Sir Lionel came to King Brandegore, and\n how Sir Bors took his son Helin le Blank, and of Sir Launcelot.\n CHAPTER X. How Sir Launcelot with Sir Percivale and Sir Ector came to\n the court, and of the great joy of him.\n CHAPTER XI. How La Beale Isoud counselled Sir Tristram to go unto the\n court, to the great feast of Pentecost.\n CHAPTER XII. How Sir Tristram departed unarmed and met with Sir\n Palomides, and how they smote each other, and how Sir Palomides\n forbare him.\n CHAPTER XIII. How that Sir Tristram gat him harness of a knight which\n was hurt, and how he overthrew Sir Palomides.\n CHAPTER XIV. How Sir Tristram and Sir Palomides fought long together,\n and after accorded, and how Sir Tristram made him to be christened.\n BOOK XIII.\n CHAPTER I. How at the vigil of the Feast of Pentecost entered into the\n hall before King Arthur a damosel, and desired Sir Launcelot for to\n come and dub a knight, and how he went with her.\n CHAPTER II. How the letters were found written in the Siege Perilous\n and of the marvellous adventure of the sword in a stone.\n CHAPTER III. How Sir Gawaine assayed to draw out the sword, and how an\n old man brought in Galahad.\n CHAPTER IV. How the old man brought Galahad to the Siege Perilous and\n set him therein, and how all the knights marvelled.\n CHAPTER V. How King Arthur shewed the stone hoving on the water to\n Galahad, and how he drew out the sword.\n CHAPTER VI. How King Arthur had all the knights together for to joust\n in the meadow beside Camelot or they departed.\n CHAPTER VII. How the queen desired to see Galahad; and how after, all\n the knights were replenished with the Holy Sangreal, and how they\n avowed the enquest of the same.\n CHAPTER VIII. How great sorrow was made of the king and the queen and\n ladies for the departing of the knights, and how they departed.\n CHAPTER IX. How Galahad gat him a shield, and how they sped that\n presumed to take down the said shield.\n CHAPTER X. How Galahad departed with the shield, and how King Evelake\n had received the shield of Joseph of Aramathie.\n CHAPTER XI. How Joseph made a cross on the white shield with his\n blood, and how Galahad was by a monk brought to a tomb.\n CHAPTER XII. Of the marvel that Sir Galahad saw and heard in the tomb,\n and how he made Melias knight.\n CHAPTER XIII. Of the adventure that Melias had, and how Galahad\n revenged him, and how Melias was carried into an abbey.\n CHAPTER XIV. How Sir Galahad departed, and how he was commanded to go\n to the Castle of Maidens to destroy the wicked custom.\n CHAPTER XV. How Sir Galahad fought with the knights of the castle, and\n destroyed the wicked custom.\n CHAPTER XVI. How Sir Gawaine came to the abbey for to follow Galahad,\n and how he was shriven to a hermit.\n CHAPTER XVII. How Sir Galahad met with Sir Launcelot and Sir\n Percivale, and smote them down, and departed from them.\n CHAPTER XVIII. How Sir Launcelot, half sleeping and half waking, saw a\n sick man borne in a litter, and how he was healed with the Sangreal.\n CHAPTER XIX. How a voice spake to Sir Launcelot, and how he found his\n horse and his helm borne away, and after went afoot.\n CHAPTER XX. How Sir Launcelot was shriven, and what sorrow he made and\n of the good ensamples which were shewed him.\n BOOK XIV.\n CHAPTER I. How Sir Percivale came to a recluse and asked counsel, and\n how she told him that she was his aunt.\n CHAPTER II. How Merlin likened the Round Table to the world, and how\n the knights that should achieve the Sangreal should be known.\n CHAPTER III. How Sir Percivale came into a monastery, where he found\n King Evelake, which was an old man.\n CHAPTER IV. How Sir Percivale saw many men of arms bearing a dead\n knight, and how he fought against them.\n CHAPTER V. How a yeoman desired him to get again an horse, and how Sir\n Percivale\u2019s hackney was slain, and how he gat an horse.\n CHAPTER VI. Of the great danger that Sir Percivale was in by his\n horse, and how he saw a serpent and a lion fight.\n CHAPTER VII. Of the vision that Sir Percivale saw, and how his vision\n was expounded, and of his lion.\n CHAPTER VIII. How Sir Percivale saw a ship coming to him-ward, and how\n the lady of the ship told him of her disheritance.\n CHAPTER IX. How Sir Percivale promised her help, and how he required\n her of love, and how he was saved from the fiend.\n CHAPTER X. How Sir Percivale for penance rove himself through the\n thigh; and how she was known for the devil.\n BOOK XV.\n CHAPTER I. How Sir Launcelot came to a chapel, where he found dead, in\n a white shirt, a man of religion, of an hundred winter old.\n CHAPTER II. Of a dead man, how men would have hewn him, and it would\n not be, and how Sir Launcelot took the hair of the dead man.\n CHAPTER III. Of an advision that Sir Launcelot had, and how he told it\n to an hermit, and desired counsel of him.\n CHAPTER IV. How the hermit expounded to Sir Launcelot his advision,\n and told him that Sir Galahad was his son.\n CHAPTER V. How Sir Launcelot jousted with many knights, and how he was\n taken.\n CHAPTER VI. How Sir Launcelot told his advision to a woman, and how\n she expounded it to him.\n BOOK XVI.\n CHAPTER I. How Sir Gawaine was nigh weary of the quest of the\n Sangreal, and of his marvellous dream.\n CHAPTER II. Of the advision of Sir Ector, and how he jousted with Sir\n Uwaine les Avoutres, his sworn brother.\n CHAPTER III. How Sir Gawaine and Sir Ector came to an hermitage to be\n confessed, and how they told to the hermit their advisions.\n CHAPTER IV. How the hermit expounded their advision.\n CHAPTER V. Of the good counsel that the hermit gave to them.\n CHAPTER VI. How Sir Bors met with an hermit, and how he was confessed\n to him, and of his penance enjoined to him.\n CHAPTER VII. How Sir Bors was lodged with a lady, and how he took upon\n him for to fight against a champion for her land.\n CHAPTER VIII. Of an advision which Sir Bors had that night, and how he\n fought and overcame his adversary.\n CHAPTER IX. How the lady was returned to her lands by the battle of\n Sir Bors, and of his departing, and how he met Sir Lionel taken and\n beaten with thorns, and also of a maid which should have been\n devoured.\n CHAPTER X. How Sir Bors left to rescue his brother, and rescued the\n damosel; and how it was told him that Lionel was dead.\n CHAPTER XI. How Sir Bors told his dream to a priest, which he had\n dreamed, and of the counsel that the priest gave to him.\n CHAPTER XII. How the devil in a woman\u2019s likeness would have had Sir\n Bors to have lain by her, and how by God\u2019s grace he escaped.\n CHAPTER XIII. Of the holy communication of an Abbot to Sir Bors, and\n how the Abbot counselled him.\n CHAPTER XIV. How Sir Bors met with his brother Sir Lionel, and how Sir\n Lionel would have slain Sir Bors.\n CHAPTER XV. How Sir Colgrevance fought against Sir Lionel for to save\n Sir Bors, and how the hermit was slain.\n CHAPTER XVI. How Sir Lionel slew Sir Colgrevance, and how after he\n would have slain Sir Bors.\n CHAPTER XVII. How there came a voice which charged Sir Bors to touch\n him not, and of a cloud that came between them.\n BOOK XVII.\n CHAPTER I. How Sir Galahad fought at a tournament, and how he was\n known of Sir Gawaine and Sir Ector de Maris.\n CHAPTER II. How Sir Galahad rode with a damosel, and came to the ship\n whereas Sir Bors and Sir Percivale were in.\n CHAPTER III. How Sir Galahad entered into the ship, and of a fair bed\n therein, with other marvellous things, and of a sword.\n CHAPTER IV. Of the marvels of the sword and of the scabbard.\n CHAPTER V. How King Pelles was smitten through both thighs because he\n drew the sword, and other marvellous histories.\n CHAPTER VI. How Solomon took David\u2019s sword by the counsel of his wife,\n and of other matters marvellous.\n CHAPTER VII. A wonderful tale of King Solomon and his wife.\n CHAPTER VIII. How Galahad and his fellows came to a castle, and how\n they were fought withal, and how they slew their adversaries, and\n other matters.\n CHAPTER IX. How the three knights, with Percivale\u2019s sister, came unto\n the same forest, and of an hart and four lions, and other things.\n CHAPTER X. How they were desired of a strange custom, the which they\n would not obey; wherefore they fought and slew many knights.\n CHAPTER XI. How Sir Percivale\u2019s sister bled a dish full of blood for\n to heal a lady, wherefore she died; and how that the body was put in a\n ship.\n CHAPTER XII. How Galahad and Percivale found in a castle many tombs of\n maidens that had bled to death.\n CHAPTER XIII. How Sir Launcelot entered into the ship where Sir\n Percivale\u2019s sister lay dead, and how he met with Sir Galahad, his son.\n CHAPTER XIV. How a knight brought unto Sir Galahad a horse, and bade\n him come from his father, Sir Launcelot.\n CHAPTER XV. How Sir Launcelot was to-fore the door of the chamber\n wherein the Holy Sangreal was.\n CHAPTER XVI. How Sir launcelot had lain four-and-twenty days and as\n many nights as a dead man, and other divers matters.\n CHAPTER XVII. How Sir Launcelot returned towards Logris, and of other\n adventures which he saw in the way.\n CHAPTER XVIII. How Galahad came to King Mordrains, and of other\n matters and adventures.\n CHAPTER XIX. How Sir Percivale and Sir Bors met with Sir Galahad, and\n how they came to the castle of Carbonek, and other matters.\n CHAPTER XX How Galahad and his fellows were fed of the Holy Sangreal,\n and how Our Lord appeared to them, and other things.\n CHAPTER XXI. How Galahad anointed with the blood of the spear the\n Maimed King, and of other adventures.\n CHAPTER XXII. How they were fed with the Sangreal while they were in\n prison, and how Galahad was made king.\n CHAPTER XXIII. Of the sorrow that Percivale and Bors made when Galahad\n was dead: and of Percivale how he died, and other matters.\n BOOK XVIII.\n CHAPTER I. Of the joy King Arthur and the queen had of the achievement\n of the Sangreal; and how Launcelot fell to his old love again.\n CHAPTER II. How the queen commanded Sir Launcelot to avoid the court,\n and of the sorrow that Launcelot made.\n CHAPTER III. How at a dinner that the queen made there was a knight\n enpoisoned, which Sir Mador laid on the queen.\n CHAPTER IV. How Sir Mador appeached the queen of treason, and there\n was no knight would fight for her at the first time.\n CHAPTER V. How the queen required Sir Bors to fight for her, and how\n he granted upon condition; and how he warned Sir Launcelot thereof.\n CHAPTER VI. How at the day Sir Bors made him ready for to fight for\n the queen; and when he would fight how another discharged him.\n CHAPTER VII How Sir Launcelot fought against Sir Mador for the queen,\n and how he overcame Sir Mador, and discharged the queen.\n CHAPTER VIII. How the truth was known by the Maiden of the Lake, and\n of divers other matters.\n CHAPTER IX. How Sir Launcelot rode to Astolat, and received a sleeve\n to wear upon his helm at the request of a maid.\n CHAPTER X. How the tourney began at Winchester, and what knights were\n at the jousts; and other things.\n CHAPTER XI. How Sir Launcelot and Sir Lavaine entered in the field\n against them of King Arthur\u2019s court, and how Launcelot was hurt.\n CHAPTER XII. How Sir Launcelot and Sir Lavaine departed out of the\n field, and in what jeopardy Launcelot was.\n CHAPTER XIII. How Launcelot was brought to an hermit for to be healed\n of his wound, and of other matters.\n CHAPTER XIV. How Sir Gawaine was lodged with the lord of Astolat, and\n there had knowledge that it was Sir Launcelot that bare the red\n sleeve.\n CHAPTER XV. Of the sorrow that Sir Bors had for the hurt of Launcelot;\n and of the anger that the queen had because Launcelot bare the sleeve.\n CHAPTER XVI. How Sir Bors sought Launcelot and found him in the\n hermitage, and of the lamentation between them.\n CHAPTER XVII. How Sir Launcelot armed him to assay if he might bear\n arms, and how his wounds brast out again.\n CHAPTER XVIII. How Sir Bors returned and told tidings of Sir\n Launcelot; and of the tourney, and to whom the prize was given.\n CHAPTER XIX. Of the great lamentation of the Fair Maid of Astolat when\n Launcelot should depart, and how she died for his love.\n CHAPTER XX. How the corpse of the Maid of Astolat arrived to-fore King\n Arthur, and of the burying, and how Sir Launcelot offered the\n mass-penny.\n CHAPTER XXI. Of great jousts done all a Christmas, and of a great\n jousts and tourney ordained by King Arthur, and of Sir Launcelot.\n CHAPTER XXII. How Launcelot after that he was hurt of a gentlewoman\n came to an hermit, and of other matters.\n CHAPTER XXIII. How Sir Launcelot behaved him at the jousts, and other\n men also.\n CHAPTER XXIV. How King Arthur marvelled much of the jousting in the\n field, and how he rode and found Sir Launcelot.\n CHAPTER XXV. How true love is likened to summer.\n BOOK XIX.\n CHAPTER I. How Queen Guenever rode a-Maying with certain knights of\n the Round Table and clad all in green.\n CHAPTER II. How Sir Meliagrance took the queen and her knights, which\n were sore hurt in fighting.\n CHAPTER III. How Sir Launcelot had word how the queen was taken, and\n how Sir Meliagrance laid a bushment for Launcelot.\n CHAPTER IV. How Sir Launcelot\u2019s horse was slain, and how Sir Launcelot\n rode in a cart for to rescue the queen.\n CHAPTER V. How Sir Meliagrance required forgiveness of the queen, and\n how she appeased Sir Launcelot; and other matters.\n CHAPTER VI. How Sir Launcelot came in the night to the queen and lay\n with her, and how Sir Meliagrance appeached the queen of treason.\n CHAPTER VII. How Sir Launcelot answered for the queen, and waged\n battle against Sir Meliagrance; and how Sir Launcelot was taken in a\n trap.\n CHAPTER VIII. How Sir Launcelot was delivered out of prison by a lady,\n and took a white courser and came for to keep his day.\n CHAPTER IX. How Sir Launcelot came the same time that Sir Meliagrance\n abode him in the field and dressed him to battle.\n CHAPTER X. How Sir Urre came into Arthur\u2019s court for to be healed of\n his wounds, and how King Arthur would begin to handle him.\n CHAPTER XI. How King Arthur handled Sir Urre, and after him many other\n knights of the Round Table.\n CHAPTER XII. How Sir Launcelot was commanded by Arthur to handle his\n wounds, and anon he was all whole, and how they thanked God.\n CHAPTER XIII. How there was a party made of an hundred knights against\n an hundred knights, and of other matters\n BOOK XX.\n CHAPTER I. How Sir Agravaine and Sir Mordred were busy upon Sir\n Gawaine for to disclose the love between Sir Launcelot and Queen\n Guenever.\n CHAPTER II. How Sir Agravaine disclosed their love to King Arthur, and\n how King Arthur gave them licence to take him.\n CHAPTER III. How Sir Launcelot was espied in the queen\u2019s chamber, and\n how Sir Agravaine and Sir Mordred came with twelve knights to slay\n him.\n CHAPTER IV. How Sir Launcelot slew Sir Colgrevance, and armed him in\n his harness, and after slew Sir Agravaine, and twelve of his fellows.\n CHAPTER V. How Sir Launcelot came to Sir Bors, and told him how he had\n sped, and in what adventure he had been, and how he had escaped.\n CHAPTER VI. Of the counsel and advice that was taken by Sir Launcelot\n and his friends for to save the queen.\n CHAPTER VII. How Sir Mordred rode hastily to the king, to tell him of\n the affray and death of Sir Agravaine and the other knights.\n CHAPTER VIII. How Sir Launcelot and his kinsmen rescued the queen from\n the fire, and how he slew many knights.\n CHAPTER IX. Of the sorrow and lamentation of King Arthur for the death\n of his nephews and other good knights, and also for the queen, his\n wife.\n CHAPTER X. How King Arthur at the request of Sir Gawaine concluded to\n make war against Sir Launcelot, and laid siege to his castle called\n Joyous Gard.\n CHAPTER XI. Of the communication between King Arthur and Sir\n Launcelot, and how King Arthur reproved him.\n CHAPTER XII. How the cousins and kinsmen of Sir Launcelot excited him\n to go out to battle, and how they made them ready.\n CHAPTER XIII. How Sir Gawaine jousted and smote down Sir Lionel, and\n how Sir Launcelot horsed King Arthur.\n CHAPTER XIV. How the Pope sent down his bulls to make peace, and how\n Sir Launcelot brought the queen to King Arthur.\n CHAPTER XV. Of the deliverance of the queen to the king by Sir\n Launcelot, and what language Sir Gawaine had to Sir Launcelot.\n CHAPTER XVI. Of the communication between Sir Gawaine and Sir\n Launcelot, with much other language.\n CHAPTER XVII. How Sir Launcelot departed from the king and from Joyous\n Gard over seaward, and what knights went with him.\n CHAPTER XVIII. How Sir Launcelot passed over the sea, and how he made\n great lords of the knights that went with him.\n CHAPTER XIX. How King Arthur and Sir Gawaine made a great host ready\n to go over sea to make war on Sir Launcelot.\n CHAPTER XX. What message Sir Gawaine sent to Sir Launcelot; and how\n King Arthur laid siege to Benwick, and other matters.\n CHAPTER XXI. How Sir Launcelot and Sir Gawaine did battle together,\n and how Sir Gawaine was overthrown and hurt.\n CHAPTER XXII. Of the sorrow that King Arthur made for the war, and of\n another battle where also Sir Gawaine had the worse\n BOOK XXI.\n CHAPTER I. How Sir Mordred presumed and took on him to be King of\n England, and would have married the queen, his father\u2019s wife.\n CHAPTER II. How after that King Arthur had tidings, he returned and\n came to Dover, where Sir Mordred met him to let his landing; and of\n the death of Sir Gawaine.\n CHAPTER III. How after, Sir Gawaine\u2019s ghost appeared to King Arthur,\n and warned him that he should not fight that day.\n CHAPTER IV. How by misadventure of an adder the battle began, where\n Mordred was slain, and Arthur hurt to the death.\n CHAPTER V. How King Arthur commanded to cast his sword Excalibur into\n the water, and how he was delivered to ladies in a barge.\n CHAPTER VI. How Sir Bedivere found him on the morrow dead in an\n hermitage, and how he abode there with the hermit.\n CHAPTER VII. Of the opinion of some men of the death of King Arthur;\n and how Queen Guenever made her a nun in Almesbury.\n CHAPTER VIII. How when Sir Lancelot heard of the death of King Arthur,\n and of Sir Gawaine, and other matters, he came into England.\n CHAPTER IX. How Sir Launcelot departed to seek the Queen Guenever, and\n how he found her at Almesbury.\n CHAPTER X. How Sir Launcelot came to the hermitage where the\n Archbishop of Canterbury was, and how he took the habit on him.\n CHAPTER XI. How Sir Launcelot went with his seven fellows to\n Almesbury, and found there Queen Guenever dead, whom they brought to\n Glastonbury.\n CHAPTER XII. How Sir Launcelot began to sicken, and after died, whose\n body was borne to Joyous Gard for to be buried.\n CHAPTER XIII. How Sir Ector found Sir Launcelot his brother dead, and\n how Constantine reigned next after Arthur; and of the end of this\n book. GLOSSARY\nBOOK X.\nCHAPTER I. How Sir Tristram jousted, and smote down King Arthur,\nbecause he told him not the cause why he bare that shield.\nAnd if so be ye can descrive what ye bear, ye are worthy to bear the\narms. As for that, said Sir Tristram, I will answer you; this shield\nwas given me, not desired, of Queen Morgan le Fay; and as for me, I can\nnot descrive these arms, for it is no point of my charge, and yet I\ntrust to God to bear them with worship. Truly, said King Arthur, ye\nought not to bear none arms but if ye wist what ye bear: but I pray you\ntell me your name. To what intent? said Sir Tristram. For I would wit,\nsaid Arthur. Sir, ye shall not wit as at this time. Then shall ye and I\ndo battle together, said King Arthur. Why, said Sir Tristram, will ye\ndo battle with me but if I tell you my name? and that little needeth\nyou an ye were a man of worship, for ye have seen me this day have had\ngreat travail, and therefore ye are a villainous knight to ask battle\nof me, considering my great travail; howbeit I will not fail you, and\nhave ye no doubt that I fear not you; though you think you have me at a\ngreat advantage yet shall I right well endure you. And there withal\nKing Arthur dressed his shield and his spear, and Sir Tristram against\nhim, and they came so eagerly together. And there King Arthur brake his\nspear all to pieces upon Sir Tristram\u2019s shield. But Sir Tristram hit\nArthur again, that horse and man fell to the earth. And there was King\nArthur wounded on the left side, a great wound and a perilous.\nThen when Sir Uwaine saw his lord Arthur lie on the ground sore\nwounded, he was passing heavy. And then he dressed his shield and his\nspear, and cried aloud unto Sir Tristram and said: Knight, defend thee.\nSo they came together as thunder, and Sir Uwaine brised his spear all\nto pieces upon Sir Tristram\u2019s shield, and Sir Tristram smote him harder\nand sorer, with such a might that he bare him clean out of his saddle\nto the earth. With that Sir Tristram turned about and said: Fair\nknights, I had no need to joust with you, for I have had enough to do\nthis day. Then arose Arthur and went to Sir Uwaine, and said to Sir\nTristram: We have as we have deserved, for through our orgulyt\u00e9 we\ndemanded battle of you, and yet we knew not your name. Nevertheless, by\nSaint Cross, said Sir Uwaine, he is a strong knight at mine advice as\nany is now living.\nThen Sir Tristram departed, and in every place he asked and demanded\nafter Sir Launcelot, but in no place he could not hear of him whether\nhe were dead or alive; wherefore Sir Tristram made great dole and\nsorrow. So Sir Tristram rode by a forest, and then was he ware of a\nfair tower by a marsh on that one side, and on that other side a fair\nmeadow. And there he saw ten knights fighting together. And ever the\nnearer he came he saw how there was but one knight did battle against\nnine knights, and that one did so marvellously that Sir Tristram had\ngreat wonder that ever one knight might do so great deeds of arms. And\nthen within a little while he had slain half their horses and unhorsed\nthem, and their horses ran in the fields and forest. Then Sir Tristram\nhad so great pity of that one knight that endured so great pain, and\never he thought it should be Sir Palomides, by his shield. And so he\nrode unto the knights and cried unto them, and bade them cease of their\nbattle, for they did themselves great shame so many knights to fight\nwith one. Then answered the master of those knights, his name was\ncalled Breuse Saunce Pit\u00e9, that was at that time the most mischievoust\nknight living, and said thus: Sir knight, what have ye ado with us to\nmeddle? and therefore, an ye be wise, depart on your way as ye came,\nfor this knight shall not escape us. That were pity, said Sir Tristram,\nthat so good a knight as he is should be slain so cowardly; and\ntherefore I warn you I will succour him with all my puissance.\nCHAPTER II. How Sir Tristram saved Sir Palomides\u2019 life, and how they\npromised to fight together within a fortnight.\nSo Sir Tristram alighted off his horse because they were on foot, that\nthey should not slay his horse, and then dressed his shield, with his\nsword in his hand, and he smote on the right hand and on the left hand\npassing sore, that well-nigh at every stroke he struck down a knight.\nAnd when they espied his strokes they fled all with Breuse Saunce Pit\u00e9\nunto the tower, and Sir Tristram followed fast after with his sword in\nhis hand, but they escaped into the tower, and shut Sir Tristram\nwithout the gate. And when Sir Tristram saw this he returned aback unto\nSir Palomides, and found him sitting under a tree sore wounded. Ah,\nfair knight, said Sir Tristram, well be ye found. Gramercy, said Sir\nPalomides, of your great goodness, for ye have rescued me of my life,\nand saved me from my death. What is your name? said Sir Tristram. He\nsaid: My name is Sir Palomides. O Jesu, said Sir Tristram, thou hast a\nfair grace of me this day that I should rescue thee, and thou art the\nman in the world that I most hate; but now make thee ready, for I will\ndo battle with thee. What is your name? said Sir Palomides. My name is\nSir Tristram, your mortal enemy. It may be so, said Sir Palomides; but\nye have done over much for me this day that I should fight with you;\nfor inasmuch as ye have saved my life it will be no worship for you to\nhave ado with me, for ye are fresh and I am wounded sore, and\ntherefore, an ye will needs have ado with me, assign me a day and then\nI shall meet with you without fail. Ye say well, said Sir Tristram, now\nI assign you to meet me in the meadow by the river of Camelot, where\nMerlin set the peron. So they were agreed.\nThen Sir Tristram asked Sir Palomides why the ten knights did battle\nwith him. For this cause, said Sir Palomides; as I rode upon mine\nadventures in a forest here beside I espied where lay a dead knight,\nand a lady weeping beside him. And when I saw her making such dole, I\nasked her who slew her lord. Sir, she said, the falsest knight of the\nworld now living, and he is the most villain that ever man heard speak\nof and his name is Sir Breuse Saunce Pit\u00e9. Then for pity I made the\ndamosel to leap on her palfrey, and I promised her to be her warrant,\nand to help her to inter her lord. And so, suddenly, as I came riding\nby this tower, there came out Sir Breuse Saunce Pit\u00e9, and suddenly he\nstruck me from my horse. And then or I might recover my horse this Sir\nBreuse slew the damosel. And so I took my horse again, and I was sore\nashamed, and so began the medley betwixt us: and this is the cause\nwherefore we did this battle. Well, said Sir Tristram, now I understand\nthe manner of your battle, but in any wise have remembrance of your\npromise that ye have made with me to do battle with me this day\nfortnight. I shall not fail you, said Sir Palomides. Well, said Sir\nTristram, as at this time I will not fail you till that ye be out of\nthe danger of your enemies.\nSo they mounted upon their horses, and rode together unto that forest,\nand there they found a fair well, with clear water bubbling. Fair sir,\nsaid Sir Tristram, to drink of that water have I courage; and then they\nalighted off their horses. And then were they ware by them where stood\na great horse tied to a tree, and ever he neighed. And then were they\nware of a fair knight armed, under a tree, lacking no piece of harness,\nsave his helm lay under his head. By the good lord, said Sir Tristram,\nyonder lieth a well-faring knight; what is best to do? Awake him, said\nSir Palomides. So Sir Tristram awaked him with the butt of his spear.\nAnd so the knight rose up hastily and put his helm upon his head, and\ngat a great spear in his hand; and without any more words he hurled\nunto Sir Tristram, and smote him clean from his saddle to the earth,\nand hurt him on the left side, that Sir Tristram lay in great peril.\nThen he walloped farther, and fetched his course, and came hurling upon\nSir Palomides, and there he struck him a part through the body, that he\nfell from his horse to the earth. And then this strange knight left\nthem there, and took his way through the forest. With this Sir\nPalomides and Sir Tristram were on foot, and gat their horses again,\nand either asked counsel of other, what was best to do. By my head,\nsaid Sir Tristram, I will follow this strong knight that thus hath\nshamed us. Well, said Sir Palomides, and I will repose me hereby with a\nfriend of mine. Beware, said Sir Tristram unto Palomides, that ye fail\nnot that day that ye have set with me to do battle, for, as I deem, ye\nwill not hold your day, for I am much bigger than ye. As for that, said\nSir Palomides, be it as it be may, for I fear you not, for an I be not\nsick nor prisoner, I will not fail you; but I have cause to have more\ndoubt of you that ye will not meet with me, for ye ride after yonder\nstrong knight. And if ye meet with him it is an hard adventure an ever\nye escape his hands. Right so Sir Tristram and Sir Palomides departed,\nand either took their ways diverse.\nCHAPTER III. How Sir Tristram sought a strong knight that had smitten\nhim down, and many other knights of the Round Table.\nAnd so Sir Tristram rode long after this strong knight. And at the last\nhe saw where lay a lady overthwart a dead knight. Fair lady, said Sir\nTristram, who hath slain your lord? Sir, she said, here came a knight\nriding, as my lord and I rested us here, and asked him of whence he\nwas, and my lord said of Arthur\u2019s court. Therefore, said the strong\nknight, I will joust with thee, for I hate all these that be of\nArthur\u2019s court. And my lord that lieth here dead amounted upon his\nhorse, and the strong knight and my lord encountered together, and\nthere he smote my lord throughout with his spear, and thus he hath\nbrought me in great woe and damage. That me repenteth, said Sir\nTristram, of your great anger; an it please you tell me your husband\u2019s\nname. Sir, said she, his name was Galardoun, that would have proved a\ngood knight. So departed Sir Tristram from that dolorous lady, and had\nmuch evil lodging. Then on the third day Sir Tristram met with Sir\nGawaine and with Sir Bleoberis in a forest at a lodge, and either were\nsore wounded. Then Sir Tristram asked Sir Gawaine and Sir Bleoberis if\nthey met with such a knight, with such a cognisance, with a covered\nshield. Fair sir, said these knights, such a knight met with us to our\ngreat damage. And first he smote down my fellow, Sir Bleoberis, and\nsore wounded him because he bade me I should not have ado with him, for\nwhy he was overstrong for me. That strong knight took his words at\nscorn, and said he said it for mockery. And then they rode together,\nand so he hurt my fellow. And when he had done so I might not for shame\nbut I must joust with him. And at the first course he smote me down and\nmy horse to the earth. And there he had almost slain me, and from us he\ntook his horse and departed, and in an evil time we met with him. Fair\nknights, said Sir Tristram, so he met with me, and with another knight\nthat hight Palomides, and he smote us both down with one spear, and\nhurt us right sore. By my faith, said Sir Gawaine, by my counsel ye\nshall let him pass and seek him no further; for at the next feast of\nthe Round Table, upon pain of my head ye shall find him there. By my\nfaith, said Sir Tristram, I shall never rest till that I find him. And\nthen Sir Gawaine asked him his name. Then he said: My name is Sir\nTristram. And so either told other their names, and then departed Sir\nTristram and rode his way.\nAnd by fortune in a meadow Sir Tristram met with Sir Kay, the\nSeneschal, and Sir Dinadan. What tidings with you, said Sir Tristram,\nwith you knights? Not good, said these knights. Why so? said Sir\nTristram; I pray you tell me, for I ride to seek a knight. What\ncognisance beareth he? said Sir Kay. He beareth, said Sir Tristram, a\ncovered shield close with cloth. By my head, said Sir Kay, that is the\nsame knight that met with us, for this night we were lodged within a\nwidow\u2019s house, and there was that knight lodged; and when he wist we\nwere of Arthur\u2019s court he spoke great villainy by the king, and\nspecially by the Queen Guenever, and then on the morn was waged battle\nwith him for that cause. And at the first recounter, said Sir Kay, he\nsmote me down from my horse and hurt me passing sore; and when my\nfellow, Sir Dinadan, saw me smitten down and hurt he would not revenge\nme, but fled from me; and thus he departed. And then Sir Tristram asked\nthem their names, and so either told other their names. And so Sir\nTristram departed from Sir Kay, and from Sir Dinadan, and so he passed\nthrough a great forest into a plain, till he was ware of a priory, and\nthere he reposed him with a good man six days.\nCHAPTER IV. How Sir Tristram smote down Sir Sagramore le Desirous and\nSir Dodinas le Savage.\nAnd then he sent his man that hight Gouvernail, and commanded him to go\nto a city thereby to fetch him new harness; for it was long time afore\nthat that Sir Tristram had been refreshed, his harness was brised and\nbroken. And when Gouvernail, his servant, was come with his apparel, he\ntook his leave at the widow, and mounted upon his horse, and rode his\nway early on the morn. And by sudden adventure Sir Tristram met with\nSir Sagramore le Desirous, and with Sir Dodinas le Savage. And these\ntwo knights met with Sir Tristram and questioned with him, and asked\nhim if he would joust with them. Fair knights, said Sir Tristram, with\na good will I would joust with you, but I have promised at a day set,\nnear hand, to do battle with a strong knight; and therefore I am loath\nto have ado with you, for an it misfortuned me here to be hurt I should\nnot be able to do my battle which I promised. As for that, said\nSagramore, maugre your head, ye shall joust with us or ye pass from us.\nWell, said Sir Tristram, if ye enforce me thereto I must do what I may.\nAnd then they dressed their shields, and came running together with\ngreat ire. But through Sir Tristram\u2019s great force he struck Sir\nSagramore from his horse. Then he hurled his horse farther, and said to\nSir Dodinas: Knight, make thee ready; and so through fine force Sir\nTristram struck Dodinas from his horse. And when he saw them lie on the\nearth he took his bridle, and rode forth on his way, and his man\nGouvernail with him.\nAnon as Sir Tristram was passed, Sir Sagramore and Sir Dodinas gat\nagain their horses, and mounted up lightly and followed after Sir\nTristram. And when Sir Tristram saw them come so fast after him he\nreturned with his horse to them, and asked them what they would. It is\nnot long ago sithen I smote you to the earth at your own request and\ndesire: I would have ridden by you, but ye would not suffer me, and now\nmeseemeth ye would do more battle with me. That is truth, said Sir\nSagramore and Sir Dodinas, for we will be revenged of the despite ye\nhave done to us. Fair knights, said Sir Tristram, that shall little\nneed you, for all that I did to you ye caused it; wherefore I require\nyou of your knighthood leave me as at this time, for I am sure an I do\nbattle with you I shall not escape without great hurts, and as I\nsuppose ye shall not escape all lotless. And this is the cause why I am\nso loath to have ado with you; for I must fight within these three days\nwith a good knight, and as valiant as any is now living, and if I be\nhurt I shall not be able to do battle with him. What knight is that,\nsaid Sir Sagramore, that ye shall fight withal? Sirs, said he, it is a\ngood knight called Sir Palomides. By my head, said Sir Sagramore and\nSir Dodinas, ye have cause to dread him, for ye shall find him a\npassing good knight, and a valiant. And because ye shall have ado with\nhim we will forbear you as at this time, and else ye should not escape\nus lightly. But, fair knight, said Sir Sagramore, tell us your name.\nSir, said he, my name is Sir Tristram de Liones. Ah, said Sagramore and\nSir Dodinas, well be ye found, for much worship have we heard of you.\nAnd then either took leave of other, and departed on their way.\nCHAPTER V. How Sir Tristram met at the peron with Sir Launcelot, and\nhow they fought together unknown.\nThen departed Sir Tristram and rode straight unto Camelot, to the peron\nthat Merlin had made to-fore, where Sir Lanceor, that was the king\u2019s\nson of Ireland, was slain by the hands of Balin. And in that same place\nwas the fair lady Colombe slain, that was love unto Sir Lanceor; for\nafter he was dead she took his sword and thrust it through her body.\nAnd by the craft of Merlin he made to inter this knight, Lanceor, and\nhis lady, Colombe, under one stone. And at that time Merlin prophesied\nthat in that same place should fight two the best knights that ever\nwere in Arthur\u2019s days, and the best lovers. So when Sir Tristram came\nto the tomb where Lanceor and his lady were buried he looked about him\nafter Sir Palomides. Then was he ware of a seemly knight came riding\nagainst him all in white, with a covered shield. When he came nigh Sir\nTristram he said on high: Ye be welcome, sir knight, and well and truly\nhave ye holden your promise. And then they dressed their shields and\nspears, and came together with all their might of their horses; and\nthey met so fiercely that both their horses and knights fell to the\nearth, and as fast as they might avoided their horses, and put their\nshields afore them; and they struck together with bright swords, as men\nthat were of might, and either wounded other wonderly sore, that the\nblood ran out upon the grass. And thus they fought the space of four\nhours, that never one would speak to other one word, and of their\nharness they had hewn off many pieces. O Lord Jesu, said Gouvernail, I\nmarvel greatly of the strokes my master hath given to your master. By\nmy head, said Sir Launcelot\u2019s servant, your master hath not given so\nmany but your master has received as many or more. O Jesu, said\nGouvernail, it is too much for Sir Palomides to suffer or Sir\nLauncelot, and yet pity it were that either of these good knights\nshould destroy other\u2019s blood. So they stood and wept both, and made\ngreat dole when they saw the bright swords over-covered with blood of\ntheir bodies.\nThen at the last spake Sir Launcelot and said: Knight, thou fightest\nwonderly well as ever I saw knight, therefore, an it please you, tell\nme your name. Sir, said Sir Tristram, that is me loath to tell any man\nmy name. Truly, said Sir Launcelot, an I were required I was never\nloath to tell my name. It is well said, said Sir Tristram, then I\nrequire you to tell me your name? Fair knight, he said, my name is Sir\nLauncelot du Lake. Alas, said Sir Tristram, what have I done! for ye\nare the man in the world that I love best. Fair knight, said Sir\nLauncelot, tell me your name? Truly, said he, my name is Sir Tristram\nde Liones. O Jesu, said Sir Launcelot, what adventure is befallen me!\nAnd therewith Sir Launcelot kneeled down and yielded him up his sword.\nAnd therewith Sir Tristram kneeled adown, and yielded him up his sword.\nAnd so either gave other the degree. And then they both forthwithal\nwent to the stone, and set them down upon it, and took off their helms\nto cool them, and either kissed other an hundred times. And then anon\nafter they took off their helms and rode to Camelot. And there they met\nwith Sir Gawaine and with Sir Gaheris that had made promise to Arthur\nnever to come again to the court till they had brought Sir Tristram\nwith them.\nCHAPTER VI. How Sir Launcelot brought Sir Tristram to the court, and of\nthe great joy that the king and other made for the coming of Sir\nTristram.\nReturn again, said Sir Launcelot, for your quest is done, for I have\nmet with Sir Tristram: lo, here is his own person! Then was Sir Gawaine\nglad, and said to Sir Tristram: Ye are welcome, for now have ye eased\nme greatly of my labour. For what cause, said Sir Gawaine, came ye into\nthis court? Fair sir, said Sir Tristram, I came into this country\nbecause of Sir Palomides; for he and I had assigned at this day to have\ndone battle together at the peron, and I marvel I hear not of him. And\nthus by adventure my lord, Sir Launcelot, and I met together. With this\ncame King Arthur, and when he wist that there was Sir Tristram, then he\nran unto him and took him by the hand and said: Sir Tristram, ye are as\nwelcome as any knight that ever came to this court. And when the king\nhad heard how Sir Launcelot and he had foughten, and either had wounded\nother wonderly sore, then the king made great dole. Then Sir Tristram\ntold the king how he came thither for to have had ado with Sir\nPalomides. And then he told the king how he had rescued him from the\nnine knights and Breuse Saunce Pit\u00e9; and how he found a knight lying by\na well, and that knight smote down Sir Palomides and me, but his shield\nwas covered with a cloth. So Sir Palomides left me, and I followed\nafter that knight; and in many places I found where he had slain\nknights, and forjousted many. By my head, said Sir Gawaine, that same\nknight smote me down and Sir Bleoberis, and hurt us sore both, he with\nthe covered shield. Ah, said Sir Kay, that knight smote me adown and\nhurt me passing sore, and fain would I have known him, but I might not.\nJesu, mercy, said Arthur, what knight was that with the covered shield?\nI know not, said Sir Tristram; and so said they all. Now, said King\nArthur, then wot I, for it is Sir Launcelot. Then they all looked upon\nSir Launcelot and said: Ye have beguiled us with your covered shield.\nIt is not the first time, said Arthur, he hath done so. My lord, said\nSir Launcelot, truly wit ye well I was the same knight that bare the\ncovered shield; and because I would not be known that I was of your\ncourt I said no worship of your house. That is truth, said Sir Gawaine,\nSir Kay, and Sir Bleoberis.\nThen King Arthur took Sir Tristram by the hand and went to the Table\nRound. Then came Queen Guenever and many ladies with her, and all the\nladies said at one voice: Welcome, Sir Tristram! Welcome, said the\ndamosels. Welcome, said knights. Welcome, said Arthur, for one of the\nbest knights, and the gentlest of the world, and the man of most\nworship; for of all manner of hunting thou bearest the prize, and of\nall measures of blowing thou art the beginning, and of all the terms of\nhunting and hawking ye are the beginner, of all instruments of music ye\nare the best; therefore, gentle knight, said Arthur, ye are welcome to\nthis court. And also, I pray you, said Arthur, grant me a boon. It\nshall be at your commandment, said Tristram. Well, said Arthur, I will\ndesire of you that ye will abide in my court. Sir, said Sir Tristram,\nthereto is me loath, for I have ado in many countries. Not so, said\nArthur, ye have promised it me, ye may not say nay. Sir, said Sir\nTristram, I will as ye will. Then went Arthur unto the sieges about the\nRound Table, and looked in every siege the which were void that lacked\nknights. And then the king saw in the siege of Marhaus letters that\nsaid: This is the siege of the noble knight, Sir Tristram. And then\nArthur made Sir Tristram Knight of the Table Round, with great nobley\nand great feast as might be thought. For Sir Marhaus was slain afore by\nthe hands of Sir Tristram in an island; and that was well known at that\ntime in the court of Arthur, for this Marhaus was a worthy knight. And\nfor evil deeds that he did unto the country of Cornwall Sir Tristram\nand he fought. And they fought so long, tracing and traversing, till\nthey fell bleeding to the earth; for they were so sore wounded that\nthey might not stand for bleeding. And Sir Tristram by fortune\nrecovered, and Sir Marhaus died through the stroke on the head. So\nleave we of Sir Tristram and speak we of King Mark.\nCHAPTER VII. How for the despite of Sir Tristram King Mark came with\ntwo knights into England, and how he slew one of the knights.\nThen King Mark had great despite of the renown of Sir Tristram, and\nthen he chased him out of Cornwall: yet was he nephew unto King Mark,\nbut he had great suspicion unto Sir Tristram because of his queen, La\nBeale Isoud; for him seemed that there was too much love between them\nboth. So when Sir Tristram departed out of Cornwall into England King\nMark heard of the great prowess that Sir Tristram did there, the which\ngrieved him sore. So he sent on his part men to espy what deeds he did.\nAnd the queen sent privily on her part spies to know what deeds he had\ndone, for great love was between them twain. So when the messengers\nwere come home they told the truth as they had heard, that he passed\nall other knights but if it were Sir Launcelot. Then King Mark was\nright heavy of these tidings, and as glad was La Beale Isoud. Then in\ngreat despite he took with him two good knights and two squires, and\ndisguised himself, and took his way into England, to the intent for to\nslay Sir Tristram. And one of these two knights hight Bersules, and the\nother knight was called Amant. So as they rode King Mark asked a knight\nthat he met, where he should find King Arthur. He said: At Camelot.\nAlso he asked that knight after Sir Tristram, whether he heard of him\nin the court of King Arthur. Wit you well, said that knight, ye shall\nfind Sir Tristram there for a man of as great worship as is now living;\nfor through his prowess he won the tournament of the Castle of Maidens\nthat standeth by the Hard Rock. And sithen he hath won with his own\nhands thirty knights that were men of great honour. And the last battle\nthat ever he did he fought with Sir Launcelot; and that was a\nmarvellous battle. And not by force Sir Launcelot brought Sir Tristram\nto the court, and of him King Arthur made passing great joy, and so\nmade him Knight of the Table Round; and his seat was where the good\nknight\u2019s, Sir Marhaus, seat was. Then was King Mark passing sorry when\nhe heard of the honour of Sir Tristram; and so they departed.\nThen said King Mark unto his two knights: Now will I tell you my\ncounsel: ye are the men that I trust most to alive, and I will that ye\nwit my coming hither is to this intent, for to destroy Sir Tristram by\nwiles or by treason; and it shall be hard if ever he escape our hands.\nAlas, said Sir Bersules, what mean you? for ye be set in such a way ye\nare disposed shamefully; for Sir Tristram is the knight of most worship\nthat we know living, and therefore I warn you plainly I will never\nconsent to do him to the death; and therefore I will yield my service,\nand forsake you. When King Mark heard him say so, suddenly he drew his\nsword and said: Ah, traitor; and smote Sir Bersules on the head, that\nthe sword went to his teeth. When Amant, the knight, saw him do that\nvillainous deed, and his squires, they said it was foul done, and\nmischievously: Wherefore we will do thee no more service, and wit ye\nwell, we will appeach thee of treason afore Arthur. Then was King Mark\nwonderly wroth and would have slain Amant; but he and the two squires\nheld them together, and set nought by his malice. When King Mark saw he\nmight not be revenged on them, he said thus unto the knight, Amant: Wit\nthou well, an thou appeach me of treason I shall thereof defend me\nafore King Arthur; but I require thee that thou tell not my name, that\nI am King Mark, whatsomever come of me. As for that, said Sir Amant, I\nwill not discover your name; and so they departed, and Amant and his\nfellows took the body of Bersules and buried it.\nCHAPTER VIII. How King Mark came to a fountain where he found Sir\nLamorak complaining for the love of King Lot\u2019s wife.\nThen King Mark rode till he came to a fountain, and there he rested\nhim, and stood in a doubt whether he would ride to Arthur\u2019s court or\nnone, or return again to his country. And as he thus rested him by that\nfountain there came by him a knight well armed on horseback; and he\nalighted, and tied his horse until a tree, and set him down by the\nbrink of the fountain; and there he made great languor and dole, and\nmade the dolefullest complaint of love that ever man heard; and all\nthis while was he not ware of King Mark. And this was a great part of\nhis complaint: he cried and wept, saying: O fair Queen of Orkney, King\nLot\u2019s wife, and mother of Sir Gawaine, and to Sir Gaheris, and mother\nto many other, for thy love I am in great pains. Then King Mark arose\nand went near him and said: Fair knight, ye have made a piteous\ncomplaint. Truly, said the knight, it is an hundred part more ruefuller\nthan my heart can utter. I require you, said King Mark, tell me your\nname. Sir, said he, as for my name I will not hide it from no knight\nthat beareth a shield, and my name is Sir Lamorak de Galis. But when\nSir Lamorak heard King Mark speak, then wist he well by his speech that\nhe was a Cornish knight. Sir, said Sir Lamorak, I understand by your\ntongue ye be of Cornwall, wherein there dwelleth the shamefullest king\nthat is now living, for he is a great enemy to all good knights; and\nthat proveth well, for he hath chased out of that country Sir Tristram,\nthat is the worshipfullest knight that now is living, and all knights\nspeak of him worship; and for jealousness of his queen he hath chased\nhim out of his country. It is pity, said Sir Lamorak, that ever any\nsuch false knight-coward as King Mark is, should be matched with such a\nfair lady and good as La Beale Isoud is, for all the world of him\nspeaketh shame, and of her worship that any queen may have. I have not\nado in this matter, said King Mark, neither nought will I speak\nthereof. Well said, said Sir Lamorak. Sir, can ye tell me any tidings?\nI can tell you, said Sir Lamorak, that there shall be a great\ntournament in haste beside Camelot, at the Castle of Jagent; and the\nKing with the Hundred Knights and the King of Ireland, as I suppose,\nmake that tournament.\nThen there came a knight that was called Sir Dinadan, and saluted them\nboth. And when he wist that King Mark was a knight of Cornwall he\nreproved him for the love of King Mark a thousand fold more than did\nSir Lamorak. Then he proffered to joust with King Mark. And he was full\nloath thereto, but Sir Dinadan edged him so, that he jousted with Sir\nLamorak. And Sir Lamorak smote King Mark so sore that he bare him on\nhis spear end over his horse\u2019s tail. And then King Mark arose again,\nand followed after Sir Lamorak. But Sir Dinadan would not joust with\nSir Lamorak, but he told King Mark that Sir Lamorak was Sir Kay, the\nSeneschal. That is not so, said King Mark, for he is much bigger than\nSir Kay; and so he followed and overtook him, and bade him abide. What\nwill you do? said Sir Lamorak. Sir, he said, I will fight with a sword,\nfor ye have shamed me with a spear; and therewith they dashed together\nwith swords, and Sir Lamorak suffered him and forbare him. And King\nMark was passing hasty, and smote thick strokes. Sir Lamorak saw he\nwould not stint, and waxed somewhat wroth, and doubled his strokes, for\nhe was one of the noblest knights of the world; and he beat him so on\nthe helm that his head hung nigh on the saddle bow. When Sir Lamorak\nsaw him fare so, he said: Sir knight, what cheer? meseemeth you have\nnigh your fill of fighting, it were pity to do you any more harm, for\nye are but a mean knight, therefore I give you leave to go where ye\nlist. Gramercy, said King Mark, for ye and I be not matches.\nThen Sir Dinadan mocked King Mark and said: Ye are not able to match a\ngood knight. As for that, said King Mark, at the first time I jousted\nwith this knight ye refused him. Think ye that it is a shame to me?\nsaid Sir Dinadan: nay, sir, it is ever worship to a knight to refuse\nthat thing that he may not attain, there fore your worship had been\nmuch more to have refused him as I did; for I warn you plainly he is\nable to beat such five as ye and I be; for ye knights of Cornwall are\nno men of worship as other knights are. And because ye are no men of\nworship ye hate all men of worship, for never was bred in your country\nsuch a knight as is Sir Tristram.\nCHAPTER IX. How King Mark, Sir Lamorak, and Sir Dinadan came to a\ncastle, and how King Mark was known there.\nThen they rode forth all together, King Mark, Sir Lamorak, and Sir\nDinadan, till that they came to a bridge, and at the end thereof stood\na fair tower. Then saw they a knight on horseback well armed,\nbrandishing a spear, crying and proffering himself to joust. Now, said\nSir Dinadan unto King Mark, yonder are two brethren, that one hight\nAlein, and the other hight Trian, that will joust with any that passeth\nthis passage. Now proffer yourself, said Dinadan to King Mark, for ever\nye be laid to the earth. Then King Mark was ashamed, and therewith he\nfeutred his spear, and hurtled to Sir Trian, and either brake their\nspears all to pieces, and passed through anon. Then Sir Trian sent King\nMark another spear to joust more; but in no wise he would not joust no\nmore. Then they came to the castle all three knights, and prayed the\nlord of the castle of harbour. Ye are right welcome, said the knights\nof the castle, for the love of the lord of this castle, the which hight\nSir Tor le Fise Aries. And then they came into a fair court well\nrepaired, and they had passing good cheer, till the lieutenant of this\ncastle, that hight Berluse, espied King Mark of Cornwall. Then said\nBerluse: Sir knight, I know you better than you ween, for ye are King\nMark that slew my father afore mine own eyen; and me had ye slain had I\nnot escaped into a wood; but wit ye well, for the love of my lord of\nthis castle I will neither hurt you nor harm you, nor none of your\nfellowship. But wit ye well, when ye are past this lodging I shall hurt\nyou an I may, for ye slew my father traitorly. But first for the love\nof my lord, Sir Tor, and for the love of Sir Lamorak, the honourable\nknight that here is lodged, ye shall have none ill lodging; for it is\npity that ever ye should be in the company of good knights; for ye are\nthe most villainous knight or king that is now known alive, for ye are\na destroyer of good knights, and all that ye do is but treason.\nCHAPTER X. How Sir Berluse met with King Mark, and how Sir Dinadan took\nhis part.\nThen was King Mark sore ashamed, and said but little again. But when\nSir Lamorak and Sir Dinadan wist that he was King Mark they were sorry\nof his fellowship. So after supper they went to lodging. So on the morn\nthey arose early, and King Mark and Sir Dinadan rode together; and\nthree mile from their lodging there met with them three knights, and\nSir Berluse was one, and that other his two cousins. Sir Berluse saw\nKing Mark, and then he cried on high: Traitor, keep thee from me for\nwit thou well that I am Berluse. Sir knight, said Sir Dinadan, I\ncounsel you to leave off at this time, for he is riding to King Arthur;\nand because I have promised to conduct him to my lord King Arthur needs\nmust I take a part with him; howbeit I love not his condition, and fain\nI would be from him. Well, Dinadan, said Sir Berluse, me repenteth that\nye will take part with him, but now do your best. And then he hurtled\nto King Mark, and smote him sore upon the shield, that he bare him\nclean out of his saddle to the earth. That saw Sir Dinadan, and he\nfeutred his spear, and ran to one of Berluse\u2019s fellows, and smote him\ndown off his saddle. Then Dinadan turned his horse, and smote the third\nknight in the same wise to the earth, for Sir Dinadan was a good knight\non horseback; and there began a great battle, for Berluse and his\nfellows held them together strongly on foot. And so through the great\nforce of Sir Dinadan King Mark had Berluse to the earth, and his two\nfellows fled; and had not been Sir Dinadan King Mark would have slain\nhim. And so Sir Dinadan rescued him of his life, for King Mark was but\na murderer. And then they took their horses and departed and left Sir\nBerluse there sore wounded.\nThen King Mark and Sir Dinadan rode forth a four leagues English, till\nthat they came to a bridge where hoved a knight on horseback, armed and\nready to joust. Lo, said Sir Dinadan unto King Mark, yonder hoveth a\nknight that will joust, for there shall none pass this bridge but he\nmust joust with that knight. It is well, said King Mark, for this\njousts falleth with thee. Sir Dinadan knew the knight well that he was\na noble knight, and fain he would have jousted, but he had had liefer\nKing Mark had jousted with him, but by no mean King Mark would not\njoust. Then Sir Dinadan might not refuse him in no manner. And then\neither dressed their spears and their shields, and smote together, so\nthat through fine force Sir Dinadan was smitten to the earth; and\nlightly he rose up and gat his horse, and required that knight to do\nbattle with swords. And he answered and said: Fair knight, as at this\ntime I may not have ado with you no more, for the custom of this\npassage is such. Then was Sir Dinadan passing wroth that he might not\nbe revenged of that knight; and so he departed, and in no wise would\nthat knight tell his name. But ever Sir Dinadan thought he should know\nhim by his shield that it should be Sir Tor.\nCHAPTER XI. How King Mark mocked Sir Dinadan, and how they met with six\nknights of the Round Table.\nSo as they rode by the way King Mark then began to mock Sir Dinadan,\nand said: I weened you knights of the Table Round might not in no wise\nfind their matches. Ye say well, said Sir Dinadan; as for you, on my\nlife I call you none of the best knights; but sith ye have such a\ndespite at me I require you to joust with me to prove my strength. Not\nso, said King Mark, for I will not have ado with you in no manner; but\nI require you of one thing, that when ye come to Arthur\u2019s court\ndiscover not my name, for I am there so hated. It is shame to you, said\nSir Dinadan, that ye govern you so shamefully; for I see by you ye are\nfull of cowardice, and ye are a murderer, and that is the greatest\nshame that a knight may have; for never a knight being a murderer hath\nworship, nor never shall have; for I saw but late through my force ye\nwould have slain Sir Berluse, a better knight than ye, or ever ye shall\nbe, and more of prowess. Thus they rode forth talking till they came to\na fair place, where stood a knight, and prayed them to take their\nlodging with him. So at the request of that knight they reposed them\nthere, and made them well at ease, and had great cheer. For all\nerrant-knights were welcome to him, and specially all those of Arthur\u2019s\ncourt. Then Sir Dinadan demanded his host what was the knight\u2019s name\nthat kept the bridge. For what cause ask you it? said the host. For it\nis not long ago, said Sir Dinadan, sithen he gave me a fall. Ah, fair\nknight, said his host, thereof have ye no marvel, for he is a passing\ngood knight, and his name is Sir Tor, the son of Aries le Vaysher. Ah,\nsaid Sir Dinadan, was that Sir Tor? for truly so ever me thought.\nRight as they stood thus talking together they saw come riding to them\nover a plain six knights of the court of King Arthur, well armed at all\npoints. And there by their shields Sir Dinadan knew them well. The\nfirst was the good knight Sir Uwaine, the son of King Uriens, the\nsecond was the noble knight Sir Brandiles, the third was Ozana le Cure\nHardy, the fourth was Uwaine les Aventurous, the fifth was Sir\nAgravaine, the sixth Sir Mordred, brother to Sir Gawaine. When Sir\nDinadan had seen these six knights he thought in himself he would bring\nKing Mark by some wile to joust with one of them. And anon they took\ntheir horses and ran after these knights well a three mile English.\nThen was King Mark ware where they sat all six about a well, and ate\nand drank such meats as they had, and their horses walking and some\ntied, and their shields hung in divers places about them. Lo, said Sir\nDinadan, yonder are knights-errant that will joust with us. God forbid,\nsaid King Mark, for they be six and we but two. As for that, said Sir\nDinadan, let us not spare, for I will assay the foremost; and therewith\nhe made him ready. When King Mark saw him do so, as fast as Sir Dinadan\nrode toward them, King Mark rode froward them with all his menial\nmeiny. So when Sir Dinadan saw King Mark was gone, he set the spear out\nof the rest, and threw his shield upon his back, and came, riding to\nthe fellowship of the Table Round. And anon Sir Uwaine knew Sir\nDinadan, and welcomed him, and so did all his fellowship.\nCHAPTER XII. How the six knights sent Sir Dagonet to joust with King\nMark, and how King Mark refused him.\nAnd then they asked him of his adventures, and whether he had seen Sir\nTristram or Sir Launcelot. So God me help, said Sir Dinadan, I saw none\nof them sithen I departed from Camelot. What knight is that, said Sir\nBrandiles, that so suddenly departed from you, and rode over yonder\nfield? Sir, said he, it was a knight of Cornwall, and the most horrible\ncoward that ever bestrode horse. What is his name? said all these\nknights. I wot not, said Sir Dinadan. So when they had reposed them,\nand spoken together, they took their horses and rode to a castle where\ndwelt an old knight that made all knights-errant good cheer. Then in\nthe meanwhile that they were talking came into the castle Sir Griflet\nle Fise de Dieu, and there was he welcome; and they all asked him\nwhether he had seen Sir Launcelot or Sir Tristram. Sirs, he answered, I\nsaw him not sithen he departed from Camelot. So as Sir Dinadan walked\nand beheld the castle, thereby in a chamber he espied King Mark, and\nthen he rebuked him, and asked him why he departed so. Sir, said he,\nfor I durst not abide because they were so many. But how escaped ye?\nsaid King Mark. Sir, said Sir Dinadan, they were better friends than I\nweened they had been. Who is captain of that fellowship? said the king.\nThen for to fear him Sir Dinadan said that it was Sir Launcelot. O\nJesu, said the king, might I know Sir Launcelot by his shield? Yea,\nsaid Dinadan, for he beareth a shield of silver and black bends. All\nthis he said to fear the king, for Sir Launcelot was not in his\nfellowship. Now I pray you, said King Mark, that ye will ride in my\nfellowship. That is me loath to do, said Sir Dinadan, because ye\nforsook my fellowship.\nRight so Sir Dinadan went from King Mark, and went to his own\nfellowship; and so they mounted upon their horses, and rode on their\nways, and talked of the Cornish knight, for Dinadan told them that he\nwas in the castle where they were lodged. It is well said, said Sir\nGriflet, for here have I brought Sir Dagonet, King Arthur\u2019s fool, that\nis the best fellow and the merriest in the world. Will ye do well? said\nSir Dinadan: I have told the Cornish knight that here is Sir Launcelot,\nand the Cornish knight asked me what shield he bare. Truly, I told him\nthat he bare the same shield that Sir Mordred beareth. Will ye do well?\nsaid Sir Mordred; I am hurt and may not well bear my shield nor\nharness, and therefore put my shield and my harness upon Sir Dagonet,\nand let him set upon the Cornish knight. That shall be done, said Sir\nDagonet, by my faith. Then anon was Dagonet armed him in Mordred\u2019s\nharness and his shield, and he was set on a great horse, and a spear in\nhis hand. Now, said Dagonet, shew me the knight, and I trow I shall\nbear him down. So all these knights rode to a woodside, and abode till\nKing Mark came by the way. Then they put forth Sir Dagonet, and he came\non all the while his horse might run, straight upon King Mark. And when\nhe came nigh King Mark, he cried as he were wood, and said: Keep thee,\nknight of Cornwall, for I will slay thee. Anon, as King Mark beheld his\nshield, he said to himself: Yonder is Sir Launcelot; alas, now am I\ndestroyed; and therewithal he made his horse to run as fast as it might\nthrough thick and thin. And ever Sir Dagonet followed after King Mark,\ncrying and rating him as a wood man, through a great forest. When Sir\nUwaine and Sir Brandiles saw Dagonet so chase King Mark, they laughed\nall as they were wood. And then they took their horses, and rode after\nto see how Sir Dagonet sped, for they would not for no good that Sir\nDagonet were shent, for King Arthur loved him passing well, and made\nhim knight with his own hands. And at every tournament he began to make\nKing Arthur to laugh. Then the knights rode here and there, crying and\nchasing after King Mark, that all the forest rang of the noise.\nCHAPTER XIII. How Sir Palomides by adventure met King Mark flying, and\nhow he overthrew Dagonet and other knights.\nSo King Mark rode by fortune by a well, in the way where stood a\nknight-errant on horseback, armed at all points, with a great spear in\nhis hand. And when he saw King Mark coming flying he said: Knight,\nreturn again for shame and stand with me, and I shall be thy warrant.\nAh, fair knight, said King Mark, let me pass, for yonder cometh after\nme the best knight of the world, with the black bended shield. Fie, for\nshame, said the knight, he is none of the worthy knights, and if he\nwere Sir Launcelot or Sir Tristram I should not doubt to meet the\nbetter of them both. When King Mark heard him say that word, he turned\nhis horse and abode by him. And then that strong knight bare a spear to\nDagonet, and smote him so sore that he bare him over his horse\u2019s tail,\nand nigh he had broken his neck. And anon after him came Sir Brandiles,\nand when he saw Dagonet have that fall he was passing wroth, and cried:\nKeep thee, knight, and so they hurtled together wonder sore. But the\nknight smote Sir Brandiles so sore that he went to the earth, horse and\nman. Sir Uwaine came after and saw all this. Jesu, said he, yonder is a\nstrong knight. And then they feutred their spears, and this knight came\nso eagerly that he smote down Sir Uwaine. Then came Ozana with the\nhardy heart, and he was smitten down. Now, said Sir Griflet, by my\ncounsel let us send to yonder errant-knight, and wit whether he be of\nArthur\u2019s court, for as I deem it is Sir Lamorak de Galis. So they sent\nunto him, and prayed the strange knight to tell his name, and whether\nhe were of Arthur\u2019s court or not. As for my name they shall not wit,\nbut tell them I am a knight-errant as they are, and let them wit that I\nam no knight of King Arthur\u2019s court; and so the squire rode again unto\nthem and told them his answer of him. By my head, said Sir Agravaine,\nhe is one of the strongest knights that ever I saw, for he hath\noverthrown three noble knights, and needs we must encounter with him\nfor shame. So Sir Agravaine feutred his spear, and that other was\nready, and smote him down over his horse to the earth. And in the same\nwise he smote Sir Uwaine les Avoutres and also Sir Griflet. Then had he\nserved them all but Sir Dinadan, for he was behind, and Sir Mordred was\nunarmed, and Dagonet had his harness.\nSo when this was done, this strong knight rode on his way a soft pace,\nand King Mark rode after him, praising him mickle; but he would answer\nno words, but sighed wonderly sore, hanging down his head, taking no\nheed to his words. Thus they rode well a three mile English, and then\nthis knight called to him a varlet, and bade him ride until yonder fair\nmanor, and recommend me to the lady of that castle and place, and pray\nher to send me refreshing of good meats and drinks. And if she ask thee\nwhat I am, tell her that I am the knight that followeth the glatisant\nbeast: that is in English to say the questing beast; for that beast\nwheresomever he yede he quested in the belly with such a noise as it\nhad been a thirty couple of hounds. Then the varlet went his way and\ncame to the manor, and saluted the lady, and told her from whence he\ncame. And when she understood that he came from the knight that\nfollowed the questing beast: O sweet Lord Jesu, she said, when shall I\nsee that noble knight, my dear son Palomides? Alas, will he not abide\nwith me? and therewith she swooned and wept, and made passing great\ndole. And then also soon as she might she gave the varlet all that he\nasked. And the varlet returned unto Sir Palomides, for he was a varlet\nof King Mark. And as soon as he came, he told the knight\u2019s name was Sir\nPalomides. I am well pleased, said King Mark, but hold thee still and\nsay nothing. Then they alighted and set them down and reposed them a\nwhile. Anon withal King Mark fell asleep. When Sir Palomides saw him\nsound asleep he took his horse and rode his way, and said to them: I\nwill not be in the company of a sleeping knight. And so he rode forth a\ngreat pace.\nCHAPTER XIV. How King Mark and Sir Dinadan heard Sir Palomides making\ngreat sorrow and mourning for La Beale Isoud.\nNow turn we unto Sir Dinadan, that found these seven knights passing\nheavy. And when he wist how that they sped, as heavy was he. My lord\nUwaine, said Dinadan, I dare lay my head it is Sir Lamorak de Galis. I\npromise you all I shall find him an he may be found in this country.\nAnd so Sir Dinadan rode after this knight; and so did King Mark, that\nsought him through the forest. So as King Mark rode after Sir Palomides\nhe heard the noise of a man that made great dole. Then King Mark rode\nas nigh that noise as he might and as he durst. Then was he ware of a\nknight that was descended off his horse, and had put off his helm, and\nthere he made a piteous complaint and a dolorous, of love.\nNow leave we that, and talk we of Sir Dinadan, that rode to seek Sir\nPalomides. And as he came within a forest he met with a knight, a\nchaser of a deer. Sir, said Sir Dinadan, met ye with a knight with a\nshield of silver and lions\u2019 heads? Yea, fair knight, said the other,\nwith such a knight met I with but a while agone, and straight yonder\nway he yede. Gramercy, said Sir Dinadan, for might I find the track of\nhis horse I should not fail to find that knight. Right so as Sir\nDinadan rode in the even late he heard a doleful noise as it were of a\nman. Then Sir Dinadan rode toward that noise; and when he came nigh\nthat noise he alighted off his horse, and went near him on foot. Then\nwas he ware of a knight that stood under a tree, and his horse tied by\nhim, and the helm off his head; and ever that knight made a doleful\ncomplaint as ever made knight. And always he made his complaint of La\nBeale Isoud, the Queen of Cornwall, and said: Ah, fair lady, why love I\nthee! for thou art fairest of all other, and yet showest thou never\nlove to me, nor bounty. Alas, yet must I love thee. And I may not blame\nthee, fair lady, for mine eyes be cause of this sorrow. And yet to love\nthee I am but a fool, for the best knight of the world loveth thee, and\nye him again, that is Sir Tristram de Liones. And the falsest king and\nknight is your husband, and the most coward and full of treason, is\nyour lord, King Mark. Alas, that ever so fair a lady and peerless of\nall other should be matched with the most villainous knight of the\nworld. All this language heard King Mark, what Sir Palomides said by\nhim; wherefore he was adread when he saw Sir Dinadan, lest he espied\nhim, that he would tell Sir Palomides that he was King Mark; and\ntherefore he withdrew him, and took his horse and rode to his men,\nwhere he commanded them to abide. And so he rode as fast as he might\nunto Camelot; and the same day he found there Amant, the knight, ready\nthat afore Arthur had appealed him of treason; and so, lightly the king\ncommanded them to do battle. And by misadventure King Mark smote Amant\nthrough the body. And yet was Amant in the righteous quarrel. And right\nso he took his horse and departed from the court for dread of Sir\nDinadan, that he would tell Sir Tristram and Sir Palomides what he was.\nThen were there maidens that La Beale Isoud had sent to Sir Tristram,\nthat knew Sir Amant well.\nCHAPTER XV. How King Mark had slain Sir Amant wrongfully to-fore King\nArthur, and Sir Launcelot fetched King Mark to King Arthur.\nThen by the license of King Arthur they went to him and spake with him;\nfor while the truncheon of the spear stuck in his body he spake: Ah,\nfair damosels, said Amant, recommend me unto La Beale Isoud, and tell\nher that I am slain for the love of her and of Sir Tristram. And there\nhe told the damosels how cowardly King Mark had slain him, and Sir\nBersules, his fellow. And for that deed I appealed him of treason, and\nhere am I slain in a righteous quarrel; and all was because Sir\nBersules and I would not consent by treason to slay the noble knight,\nSir Tristram. Then the two maidens cried aloud that all the court might\nhear it, and said: O sweet Lord Jesu, that knowest all hid things, why\nsufferest Thou so false a traitor to vanquish and slay a true knight\nthat fought in a righteous quarrel? Then anon it was sprung to the\nking, and the queen, and to all the lords, that it was King Mark that\nhad slain Sir Amant, and Sir Bersules afore hand; wherefore they did\ntheir battle. Then was King Arthur wroth out of measure, and so were\nall the other knights. But when Sir Tristram knew all the matter he\nmade great dole and sorrow out of measure, and wept for sorrow for the\nloss of the noble knights, Sir Bersules and of Sir Amant.\nWhen Sir Launcelot espied Sir Tristram weep he went hastily to King\nArthur, and said: Sir, I pray you give me leave to return again to\nyonder false king and knight. I pray you, said King Arthur, fetch him\nagain, but I would not that ye slew him, for my worship. Then Sir\nLauncelot armed him in all haste, and mounted upon a great horse, and\ntook a spear in his hand and rode after King Mark. And from thence a\nthree mile English Sir Launcelot over took him, and bade him: Turn\nrecreant king and knight, for whether thou wilt or not thou shalt go\nwith me to King Arthur\u2019s court. King Mark returned and looked upon Sir\nLauncelot, and said: Fair sir, what is your name? Wit thou well, said\nhe, my name is Sir Launcelot, and therefore defend thee. And when King\nMark wist that it was Sir Launcelot, and came so fast upon him with a\nspear, he cried then aloud: I yield me to thee, Sir Launcelot,\nhonourable knight. But Sir Launcelot would not hear him, but came fast\nupon him. King Mark saw that, and made no defence, but tumbled adown\nout of his saddle to the earth as a sack, and there he lay still, and\ncried Sir Launcelot mercy. Arise, recreant knight and king. I will not\nfight, said King Mark, but whither that ye will I will go with you.\nAlas, alas, said Sir Launcelot, that I may not give thee one buffet for\nthe love of Sir Tristram and of La Beale Isoud, and for the two knights\nthat thou hast slain traitorly. And so he mounted upon his horse and\nbrought him to King Arthur; and there King Mark alighted in that same\nplace, and threw his helm from him upon the earth, and his sword, and\nfell flat to the earth of King Arthur\u2019s feet, and put him in his grace\nand mercy. So God me help, said Arthur, ye are welcome in a manner, and\nin a manner ye are not welcome. In this manner ye are welcome, that ye\ncome hither maugre thy head, as I suppose. That is truth, said King\nMark, and else I had not been here, for my lord, Sir Launcelot, brought\nme hither through his fine force, and to him am I yolden to as\nrecreant. Well, said Arthur, ye understand ye ought to do me service,\nhomage, and fealty. And never would ye do me none, but ever ye have\nbeen against me, and a destroyer of my knights; now, how will ye acquit\nyou? Sir, said King Mark, right as your lordship will require me, unto\nmy power, I will make a large amends. For he was a fair speaker, and\nfalse thereunder. Then for great pleasure of Sir Tristram, to make them\ntwain accorded, the king withheld King Mark as at that time, and made a\nbroken love-day between them.\nCHAPTER XVI. How Sir Dinadan told Sir Palomides of the battle between\nSir Launcelot and Sir Tristam.\nNow turn we again unto Sir Palomides, how Sir Dinadan comforted him in\nall that he might, from his great sorrow. What knight are ye? said Sir\nPalomides. Sir, I am a knight-errant as ye be, that hath sought you\nlong by your shield. Here is my shield, said Sir Palomides, wit ye\nwell, an ye will ought, therewith I will defend it. Nay, said Sir\nDinadan, I will not have ado with you but in good manner. And if ye\nwill, ye shall find me soon ready. Sir, said Sir Dinadan, whitherward\nride you this way? By my head, said Sir Palomides, I wot not, but as\nfortune leadeth me. Heard ye or saw ye ought of Sir Tristram? So God me\nhelp, of Sir Tristram I both heard and saw, and not for then we loved\nnot inwardly well together, yet at my mischief Sir Tristram rescued me\nfrom my death; and yet, or he and I departed, by both our assents we\nassigned a day that we should have met at the stony grave that Merlin\nset beside Camelot, and there to have done battle together; howbeit I\nwas letted, said Sir Palomides, that I might not hold my day, the which\ngrieveth me sore; but I have a large excuse. For I was prisoner with a\nlord, and many other more, and that shall Sir Tristram right well\nunderstand, that I brake it not of fear of cowardice. And then Sir\nPalomides told Sir Dinadan the same day that they should have met. So\nGod me help, said Sir Dinadan, that same day met Sir Launcelot and Sir\nTristram at the same grave of stone. And there was the most mightiest\nbattle that ever was seen in this land betwixt two knights, for they\nfought more than two hours. And there they both bled so much blood that\nall men marvelled that ever they might endure it. And so at the last,\nby both their assents, they were made friends and sworn-brethren for\never, and no man can judge the better knight. And now is Sir Tristram\nmade a knight of the Round Table, and he sitteth in the siege of the\nnoble knight, Sir Marhaus. By my head, said Sir Palomides, Sir Tristram\nis far bigger than Sir Launcelot, and the hardier knight. Have ye\nassayed them both? said Sir Dinadan. I have seen Sir Tristram fight,\nsaid Sir Palomides, but never Sir Launcelot to my witting. But at the\nfountain where Sir Launcelot lay asleep, there with one spear he smote\ndown Sir Tristram and me, said Palomides, but at that time they knew\nnot either other. Fair knight, said Sir Dinadan, as for Sir Launcelot\nand Sir Tristram let them be, for the worst of them will not be lightly\nmatched of no knights that I know living. No, said Sir Palomides, God\ndefend, but an I had a quarrel to the better of them both I would with\nas good a will fight with him as with you. Sir, I require you tell me\nyour name, and in good faith I shall hold you company till that we come\nto Camelot; and there shall ye have great worship now at this great\ntournament; for there shall be the Queen Guenever, and La Beale Isoud\nof Cornwall. Wit you well, sir knight, for the love of La Beale Isoud I\nwill be there, and else not, but I will not have ado in King Arthur\u2019s\ncourt. Sir, said Dinadan, I shall ride with you and do you service, so\nyou will tell me your name. Sir, ye shall understand my name is Sir\nPalomides, brother to Safere, the good and noble knight. And Sir\nSegwarides and I, we be Saracens born, of father and mother. Sir, said\nSir Dinadan, I thank you much for the telling of your name. For I am\nglad of that I know your name, and I promise you by the faith of my\nbody, ye shall not be hurt by me by my will, but rather be advanced.\nAnd thereto will I help you with all my power, I promise you, doubt ye\nnot. And certainly on my life ye shall win great worship in the court\nof King Arthur, and be right welcome. So then they dressed on their\nhelms and put on their shields, and mounted upon their horses, and took\nthe broad way towards Camelot. And then were they ware of a castle that\nwas fair and rich, and also passing strong as any was within this\nrealm.\nCHAPTER XVII. How Sir Lamorak jousted with divers knights of the castle\nwherein was Morgan le Fay.\nSir Palomides, said Dinadan, here is a castle that I know well, and\ntherein dwelleth Queen Morgan le Fay, King Arthur\u2019s sister; and King\nArthur gave her this castle, the which he hath repented him sithen a\nthousand times, for sithen King Arthur and she have been at debate and\nstrife; but this castle could he never get nor win of her by no manner\nof engine; and ever as she might she made war on King Arthur. And all\ndangerous knights she withholdeth with her, for to destroy all these\nknights that King Arthur loveth. And there shall no knight pass this\nway but he must joust with one knight, or with two, or with three. And\nif it hap that King Arthur\u2019s knight be beaten, he shall lose his horse\nand his harness and all that he hath, and hard, if that he escape, but\nthat he shall be prisoner. So God me help, said Palomides, this is a\nshameful custom, and a villainous usance for a queen to use, and namely\nto make such war upon her own lord, that is called the Flower of\nChivalry that is christian or heathen; and with all my heart I would\ndestroy that shameful custom. And I will that all the world wit she\nshall have no service of me. And if she send out any knights, as I\nsuppose she will, for to joust, they shall have both their hands full.\nAnd I shall not fail you, said Sir Dinadan, unto my puissance, upon my\nlife.\nSo as they stood on horseback afore the castle, there came a knight\nwith a red shield, and two squires after him; and he came straight unto\nSir Palomides, the good knight, and said to him: Fair and gentle\nknight-errant, I require thee for the love thou owest unto knighthood,\nthat ye will not have ado here with these men of this castle; for this\nwas Sir Lamorak that thus said. For I came hither to seek this deed,\nand it is my request; and therefore I beseech you, knight, let me deal,\nand if I be beaten revenge me. In the name of God, said Palomides, let\nsee how ye will speed, and we shall behold you. Then anon came forth a\nknight of the castle, and proffered to joust with the Knight with the\nRed Shield. Anon they encountered together, and he with the red shield\nsmote him so hard that he bare him over to the earth. Therewith anon\ncame another knight of the castle, and he was smitten so sore that he\navoided his saddle. And forthwithal came the third knight, and the\nKnight with the Red Shield smote him to the earth. Then came Sir\nPalomides, and besought him that he might help him to joust. Fair\nknight, said he unto him, suffer me as at this time to have my will,\nfor an they were twenty knights I shall not doubt them. And ever there\nwere upon the walls of the castle many lords and ladies that cried and\nsaid: Well have ye jousted, Knight with the Red Shield. But as soon as\nthe knight had smitten them down, his squire took their horses, and\navoided their saddles and bridles of the horses, and turned them into\nthe forest, and made the knights to be kept to the end of the jousts.\nRight so came out of the castle the fourth knight, and freshly\nproffered to joust with the Knight with the Red Shield: and he was\nready, and he smote him so hard that horse and man fell to the earth,\nand the knight\u2019s back brake with the fall, and his neck also. O Jesu,\nsaid Sir Palomides, that yonder is a passing good knight, and the best\njouster that ever I saw. By my head, said Sir Dinadan, he is as good as\never was Sir Launcelot or Sir Tristram, what knight somever he be.\nCHAPTER XVIII. How Sir Palomides would have jousted for Sir Lamorak\nwith the knights of the castle.\nThen forthwithal came a knight out of the castle, with a shield bended\nwith black and with white. And anon the Knight with the Red Shield and\nhe encountered so hard that he smote the knight of the castle through\nthe bended shield and through the body, and brake the horse\u2019s back.\nFair knight, said Sir Palomides, ye have overmuch on hand, therefore I\npray you let me joust, for ye had need to be reposed. Why sir, said the\nknight, seem ye that I am weak and feeble? and sir, methinketh ye\nproffer me wrong, and to me shame, when I do well enough. I tell you\nnow as I told you erst; for an they were twenty knights I shall beat\nthem, and if I be beaten or slain then may ye revenge me. And if ye\nthink that I be weary, and ye have an appetite to joust with me, I\nshall find you jousting enough. Sir, said Palomides, I said it not\nbecause I would joust with you, but meseemeth that ye have overmuch on\nhand. And therefore, an ye were gentle, said the Knight with the Red\nShield, ye should not proffer me shame; therefore I require you to\njoust with me, and ye shall find that I am not weary. Sith ye require\nme, said Sir Palomides, take keep to yourself. Then they two knights\ncame together as fast as their horses might run, and the knight smote\nSir Palomides sore on the shield that the spear went into his side a\ngreat wound, and a perilous. And therewithal Sir Palomides avoided his\nsaddle. And that knight turned unto Sir Dinadan; and when he saw him\ncoming he cried aloud, and said: Sir, I will not have ado with you; but\nfor that he let it not, but came straight upon him. So Sir Dinadan for\nshame put forth his spear and all to-shivered it upon the knight. But\nhe smote Sir Dinadan again so hard that he smote him clean from his\nsaddle; but their horses he would not suffer his squires to meddle\nwith, and because they were knights-errant.\nThen he dressed him again to the castle, and jousted with seven knights\nmore, and there was none of them might withstand him, but he bare him\nto the earth. And of these twelve knights he slew in plain jousts four.\nAnd the eight knights he made them to swear on the cross of a sword\nthat they should never use the evil customs of the castle. And when he\nhad made them to swear that oath he let them pass. And ever stood the\nlords and the ladies on the castle walls crying and saying: Knight with\nthe Red Shield, ye have marvellously well done as ever we saw knight\ndo. And therewith came a knight out of the castle unarmed, and said:\nKnight with the Red Shield, overmuch damage hast thou done to us this\nday, therefore return whither thou wilt, for here are no more will have\nado with thee; for we repent sore that ever thou camest here, for by\nthee is fordone the old custom of this castle. And with that word he\nturned again into the castle, and shut the gates. Then the Knight with\nthe Red Shield turned and called his squires, and so passed forth on\nhis way, and rode a great pace.\nAnd when he was past Sir Palomides went to Sir Dinadan, and said: I had\nnever such a shame of one knight that ever I met; and therefore I cast\nme to ride after him, and to be revenged with my sword, for a-horseback\nI deem I shall get no worship of him. Sir Palomides, said Dinadan, ye\nshall not meddle with him by my counsel, for ye shall get no worship of\nhim; and for this cause, ye have seen him this day have had overmuch to\ndo, and overmuch travailed. By almighty Jesu, said Palomides, I shall\nnever be at ease till that I have had ado with him. Sir, said Dinadan,\nI shall give you my beholding. Well, said Palomides, then shall ye see\nhow we shall redress our mights. So they took their horses of their\nvarlets, and rode after the Knight with the Red Shield; and down in a\nvalley beside a fountain they were ware where he was alighted to repose\nhim, and had done off his helm for to drink at the well.\nCHAPTER XIX. How Sir Lamorak jousted with Sir Palomides, and hurt him\ngrievously.\nThen Palomides rode fast till he came nigh him. And then he said:\nKnight, remember ye of the shame ye did to me right now at the castle,\ntherefore dress thee, for I will have ado with thee. Fair knight, said\nhe to Palomides, of me ye win no worship, for ye have seen this day\nthat I have been travailed sore. As for that, said Palomides, I will\nnot let, for wit ye well I will be revenged. Well, said the knight, I\nmay happen to endure you. And therewithal he mounted upon his horse,\nand took a great spear in his hand ready for to joust. Nay, said\nPalomides, I will not joust, for I am sure at jousting I get no prize.\nFair knight, said that knight, it would beseem a knight to joust and to\nfight on horseback. Ye shall see what I will do, said Palomides. And\ntherewith he alighted down upon foot, and dressed his shield afore him\nand pulled out his sword. Then the Knight with the Red Shield descended\ndown from his horse, and dressed his shield afore him, and so he drew\nout his sword. And then they came together a soft pace, and wonderly\nthey lashed together passing thick the mountenance of an hour or ever\nthey breathed. Then they traced and traversed, and waxed wonderly\nwroth, and either behight other death; they hewed so fast with their\nswords that they cut in down half their swords and mails, that the bare\nflesh in some place stood above their harness. And when Sir Palomides\nbeheld his fellow\u2019s sword over-hylled with his blood it grieved him\nsore: some while they foined, some while they struck as wild men. But\nat the last Sir Palomides waxed faint, because of his first wound that\nhe had at the castle with a spear, for that wound grieved him wonderly\nsore. Fair knight, said Palomides, meseemeth we have assayed either\nother passing sore, and if it may please thee, I require thee of thy\nknighthood tell me thy name. Sir, said the knight to Palomides, that is\nme loath to do, for thou hast done me wrong and no knighthood to\nproffer me battle, considering my great travail, but an thou wilt tell\nme thy name I will tell thee mine. Sir, said he, wit thou well my name\nis Palomides. Ah, sir, ye shall understand my name is Sir Lamorak de\nGalis, son and heir unto the good knight and king, King Pellinore, and\nSir Tor, the good knight, is my half brother. When Sir Palomides heard\nhim say so he kneeled down and asked mercy, For outrageously have I\ndone to you this day; considering the great deeds of arms I have seen\nyou do, shamefully and unknightly I have required you to do battle. Ah,\nSir Palomides, said Sir Lamorak, overmuch have ye done and said to me.\nAnd therewith he embraced him with his both hands, and said: Palomides,\nthe worthy knight, in all this land is no better than ye, nor more of\nprowess, and me repenteth sore that we should fight together. So it\ndoth not me, said Sir Palomides, and yet am I sorer wounded than ye be;\nbut as for that I shall soon thereof be whole. But certainly I would\nnot for the fairest castle in this land, but if thou and I had met, for\nI shall love you the days of my life afore all other knights except my\nbrother, Sir Safere. I say the same, said Sir Lamorak, except my\nbrother, Sir Tor. Then came Sir Dinadan, and he made great joy of Sir\nLamorak. Then their squires dressed both their shields and their\nharness, and stopped their wounds. And thereby at a priory they rested\nthem all night.\nCHAPTER XX. How it was told Sir Launcelot that Dagonet chased King\nMark, and how a knight overthrew him and six knights.\nNow turn we again. When Sir Ganis and Sir Brandiles with his fellows\ncame to the court of King Arthur they told the king, Sir Launcelot, and\nSir Tristram, how Sir Dagonet, the fool, chased King Mark through the\nforest, and how the strong knight smote them down all seven with one\nspear. There was great laughing and japing at King Mark and at Sir\nDagonet. But all these knights could not tell what knight it was that\nrescued King Mark. Then they asked King Mark if that he knew him, and\nhe answered and said: He named himself the Knight that followed the\nQuesting Beast, and on that name he sent one of my varlets to a place\nwhere was his mother; and when she heard from whence he came she made\npassing great dole, and discovered to my varlet his name, and said: Oh,\nmy dear son, Sir Palomides, why wilt thou not see me? And therefore,\nsir, said King Mark, it is to understand his name is Sir Palomides, a\nnoble knight. Then were all these seven knights glad that they knew his\nname.\nNow turn we again, for on the morn they took their horses, both Sir\nLamorak, Palomides, and Dinadan, with their squires and varlets, till\nthey saw a fair castle that stood on a mountain well closed, and\nthither they rode, and there they found a knight that hight Galahalt,\nthat was lord of that castle, and there they had great cheer and were\nwell eased. Sir Dinadan, said Sir Lamorak, what will ye do? Oh sir,\nsaid Dinadan, I will to-morrow to the court of King Arthur. By my head,\nsaid Sir Palomides, I will not ride these three days, for I am sore\nhurt, and much have I bled, and therefore I will repose me here. Truly,\nsaid Sir Lamorak, and I will abide here with you; and when ye ride,\nthen will I ride, unless that ye tarry over long; then will I take my\nhorse. Therefore I pray you, Sir Dinadan, abide and ride with us.\nFaithfully, said Dinadan, I will not abide, for I have such a talent to\nsee Sir Tristram that I may not abide long from him. Ah, Dinadan, said\nSir Palomides, now do I understand that ye love my mortal enemy, and\ntherefore how should I trust you. Well, said Dinadan, I love my lord\nSir Tristram, above all other, and him will I serve and do honour. So\nshall I, said Sir Lamorak, in all that may lie in my power.\nSo on the morn Sir Dinadan rode unto the court of King Arthur; and by\nthe way as he rode he saw where stood an errant knight, and made him\nready for to joust. Not so, said Dinadan, for I have no will to joust.\nWith me shall ye joust, said the knight, or that ye pass this way.\nWhether ask ye jousts, by love or by hate? The knight answered: Wit ye\nwell I ask it for love, and not for hate. It may well be so, said Sir\nDinadan, but ye proffer me hard love when ye will joust with me with a\nsharp spear. But, fair knight, said Sir Dinadan, sith ye will joust\nwith me, meet with me in the court of King Arthur, and there shall I\njoust with you. Well, said the knight, sith ye will not joust with me,\nI pray you tell me your name. Sir knight, said he, my name is Sir\nDinadan. Ah, said the knight, full well know I you for a good knight\nand a gentle, and wit you well I love you heartily. Then shall there be\nno jousts, said Dinadan, betwixt us. So they departed. And the same day\nhe came to Camelot, where lay King Arthur. And there he saluted the\nking and the queen, Sir Launcelot, and Sir Tristram; and all the court\nwas glad of Sir Dinadan, for he was gentle, wise, and courteous, and a\ngood knight. And in especial, the valiant knight Sir Tristram loved Sir\nDinadan passing well above all other knights save Sir Launcelot.\nThen the king asked Sir Dinadan what adventures he had seen. Sir, said\nDinadan, I have seen many adventures, and of some King Mark knoweth,\nbut not all. Then the king hearkened Sir Dinadan, how he told that Sir\nPalomides and he were afore the castle of Morgan le Fay, and how Sir\nLamorak took the jousts afore them, and how he forjousted twelve\nknights, and of them four he slew, and how after he smote down Sir\nPalomides and me both. t I may not believe that, said the king, for Sir\nPalomides is a passing good knight. That is very truth, said Sir\nDinadan, but yet I saw him better proved, hand for hand. And then he\ntold the king all that battle, and how Sir Palomides was more weaker,\nand more hurt, and more lost of his blood. And without doubt, said Sir\nDinadan, had the battle longer lasted, Palomides had been slain. O\nJesu, said King Arthur, this is to me a great marvel. Sir, said\nTristram, marvel ye nothing thereof, for at mine advice there is not a\nvalianter knight in the world living, for I know his might. And now I\nwill say you, I was never so weary of knight but if it were Sir\nLauncelot. And there is no knight in the world except Sir Launcelot\nthat did so well as Sir Lamorak. So God me help, said the king, I would\nthat knight, Sir Lamorak, came to this Court. Sir, said Dinadan, he\nwill be here in short space, and Sir Palomides both, but I fear that\nPalomides may not yet travel.\nCHAPTER XXI. How King Arthur let do cry a jousts, and how Sir Lamorak\ncame in, and overthrew Sir Gawaine and many other.\nThen within three days after the king let make a jousting at a priory.\nAnd there made them ready many knights of the Round Table, for Sir\nGawaine and his brethren made them ready to joust; but Tristram,\nLauncelot, nor Dinadan, would not joust, but suffered Sir Gawaine, for\nthe love of King Arthur, with his brethren, to win the gree if they\nmight. Then on the morn they apparelled them to joust, Sir Gawaine and\nhis four brethren, and did there great deeds of arms. And Sir Ector de\nMaris did marvellously well, but Sir Gawaine passed all that\nfellowship; wherefore King Arthur and all the knights gave Sir Gawaine\nthe honour at the beginning.\nRight so King Arthur was ware of a knight and two squires, the which\ncame out of a forest side, with a shield covered with leather, and then\nhe came slyly and hurtled here and there, and anon with one spear he\nhad smitten down two knights of the Round Table. Then with his hurtling\nhe lost the covering of his shield, then was the king and all other\nware that he bare a red shield. O Jesu, said King Arthur, see where\nrideth a stout knight, he with the red shield. And there was noise and\ncrying: Beware the Knight with the Red Shield. So within a little while\nhe had overthrown three brethren of Sir Gawaine\u2019s. So God me help, said\nKing Arthur, meseemeth yonder is the best jouster that ever I saw. With\nthat he saw him encounter with Sir Gawaine, and he smote him down with\nso great force that he made his horse to avoid his saddle. How now,\nsaid the king, Sir Gawaine hath a fall; well were me an I knew what\nknight he were with the red shield. I know him well, said Dinadan, but\nas at this time ye shall not know his name. By my head, said Sir\nTristram, he jousted better than Sir Palomides, and if ye list to know\nhis name, wit ye well his name is Sir Lamorak de Galis.\nAs they stood thus talking, Sir Gawaine and he encountered together\nagain, and there he smote Sir Gawaine from his horse, and bruised him\nsore. And in the sight of King Arthur he smote down twenty knights,\nbeside Sir Gawaine and his brethren. And so clearly was the prize given\nhim as a knight peerless. Then slyly and marvellously Sir Lamorak\nwithdrew him from all the fellowship into the forest side. All this\nespied King Arthur, for his eye went never from him. Then the king, Sir\nLauncelot, Sir Tristram, and Sir Dinadan, took their hackneys, and rode\nstraight after the good knight, Sir Lamorak de Galis, and there found\nhim. And thus said the king: Ah, fair knight, well be ye found. When he\nsaw the king he put off his helm and saluted him, and when he saw Sir\nTristram he alighted down off his horse and ran to him to take him by\nthe thighs, but Sir Tristram would not suffer him, but he alighted or\nthat he came, and either took other in arms, and made great joy of\nother. The king was glad, and also was all the fellowship of the Round\nTable, except Sir Gawaine and his brethren. And when they wist that he\nwas Sir Lamorak, they had great despite at him, and were wonderly wroth\nwith him that he had put him to dishonour that day.\nThen Gawaine called privily in council all his brethren, and to them\nsaid thus: Fair brethren, here may ye see, whom that we hate King\nArthur loveth, and whom that we love he hateth. And wit ye well, my\nfair brethren, that this Sir Lamorak will never love us, because we\nslew his father, King Pellinore, for we deemed that he slew our father,\nKing of Orkney. And for the despite of Pellinore, Sir Lamorak did us a\nshame to our mother, therefore I will be revenged. Sir, said Sir\nGawaine\u2019s brethren, let see how ye will or may be revenged, and ye\nshall find us ready. Well, said Gawaine, hold you still and we shall\nespy our time.\nCHAPTER XXII. How King Arthur made King Mark to be accorded with Sir\nTristram, and how they departed toward Cornwall.\nNow pass we our matter, and leave we Sir Gawaine, and speak of King\nArthur, that on a day said unto King Mark: Sir, I pray you give me a\ngift that I shall ask you. Sir, said King Mark, I will give you\nwhatsomever ye desire an it be in my power. Sir, gramercy, said Arthur.\nThis I will ask you, that ye will be good lord unto Sir Tristram, for\nhe is a man of great honour; and that ye will take him with you into\nCornwall, and let him see his friends, and there cherish him for my\nsake. Sir, said King Mark, I promise you by the faith of my body, and\nby the faith that I owe to God and to you, I shall worship him for your\nsake in all that I can or may. Sir, said Arthur, and I will forgive you\nall the evil will that ever I ought you, an so be that you swear that\nupon a book before me. With a good will, said King Mark; and so he\nthere sware upon a book afore him and all his knights, and therewith\nKing Mark and Sir Tristram took either other by the hands hard knit\ntogether. But for all this King Mark thought falsely, as it proved\nafter, for he put Sir Tristram in prison, and cowardly would have slain\nhim.\nThen soon after King Mark took his leave to ride into Cornwall, and Sir\nTristram made him ready to ride with him, whereof the most part of the\nRound Table were wroth and heavy, and in especial Sir Launcelot, and\nSir Lamorak, and Sir Dinadan, were wroth out of measure. For well they\nwist King Mark would slay or destroy Sir Tristram. Alas, said Dinadan,\nthat my lord, Sir Tristram, shall depart. And Sir Tristram took such\nsorrow that he was amazed like a fool. Alas, said Sir Launcelot unto\nKing Arthur, what have ye done, for ye shall lose the most man of\nworship that ever came into your court. It was his own desire, said\nArthur, and therefore I might not do withal, for I have done all that I\ncan and made them at accord. Accord, said Sir Launcelot, fie upon that\naccord, for ye shall hear that he shall slay Sir Tristram, or put him\nin a prison, for he is the most coward and the villainest king and\nknight that is now living.\nAnd therewith Sir Launcelot departed, and came to King Mark, and said\nto him thus: Sir king, wit thou well the good knight Sir Tristram shall\ngo with thee. Beware, I rede thee, of treason, for an thou mischief\nthat knight by any manner of falsehood or treason, by the faith I owe\nto God and to the order of knighthood, I shall slay thee with mine own\nhands. Sir Launcelot, said the king, overmuch have ye said to me, and I\nhave sworn and said over largely afore King Arthur in hearing of all\nhis knights, that I shall not slay nor betray him. It were to me\novermuch shame to break my promise. Ye say well, said Sir Launcelot,\nbut ye are called so false and full of treason that no man may believe\nyou. Forsooth it is known well wherefore ye came into this country, and\nfor none other cause but for to slay Sir Tristram. So with great dole\nKing Mark and Sir Tristram rode together, for it was by Sir Tristram\u2019s\nwill and his means to go with King Mark, and all was for the intent to\nsee La Beale Isoud, for without the sight of her Sir Tristram might not\nendure.\nCHAPTER XXIII. How Sir Percivale was made knight of King Arthur, and\nhow a dumb maid spake, and brought him to the Round Table.\nNow turn we again unto Sir Lamorak, and speak we of his brethren, Sir\nTor, which was King Pellinore\u2019s first son and begotten of Aryes, wife\nof the cowherd, for he was a bastard; and Sir Aglovale was his first\nson begotten in wedlock; Sir Lamorak, Dornar, Percivale, these were his\nsons too in wedlock. So when King Mark and Sir Tristram were departed\nfrom the court there was made great dole and sorrow for the departing\nof Sir Tristram. Then the king and his knights made no manner of joys\neight days after. And at the eight days\u2019 end there came to the court a\nknight with a young squire with him. And when this knight was unarmed,\nhe went to the king and required him to make the young squire a knight.\nOf what lineage is he come? said King Arthur. Sir, said the knight, he\nis the son of King Pellinore, that did you some time good service, and\nhe is a brother unto Sir Lamorak de Galis, the good knight. Well, said\nthe king, for what cause desire ye that of me that I should make him\nknight? Wit you well, my lord the king, that this young squire is\nbrother to me as well as to Sir Lamorak, and my name is Aglavale. Sir\nAglavale, said Arthur, for the love of Sir Lamorak, and for his\nfather\u2019s love, he shall be made knight to-morrow. Now tell me, said\nArthur, what is his name? Sir, said the knight, his name is Percivale\nde Galis. So on the morn the king made him knight in Camelot. But the\nking and all the knights thought it would be long or that he proved a\ngood knight.\nThen at the dinner, when the king was set at the table, and every\nknight after he was of prowess, the king commanded him to be set among\nmean knights; and so was Sir Percivale set as the king commanded. Then\nwas there a maiden in the queen\u2019s court that was come of high blood,\nand she was dumb and never spake word. Right so she came straight into\nthe hall, and went unto Sir Percivale, and took him by the hand and\nsaid aloud, that the king and all the knights might hear it: Arise, Sir\nPercivale, the noble knight and God\u2019s knight, and go with me; and so he\ndid. And there she brought him to the right side of the Siege Perilous,\nand said, Fair knight, take here thy siege, for that siege appertaineth\nto thee and to none other. Right so she departed and asked a priest.\nAnd as she was confessed and houselled then she died. Then the king and\nall the court made great joy of Sir Percivale.\nCHAPTER XXIV. How Sir Lamorak visited King Lot\u2019s wife, and how Sir\nGaheris slew her which was his own mother.\nNow turn we unto Sir Lamorak, that much was there praised. Then, by the\nmean of Sir Gawaine and his brethren, they sent for their mother there\nbesides, fast by a castle beside Camelot; and all was to that intent to\nslay Sir Lamorak. The Queen of Orkney was there but a while, but Sir\nLamorak wist of their being, and was full fain; and for to make an end\nof this matter, he sent unto her, and there betwixt them was a night\nassigned that Sir Lamorak should come to her. Thereof was ware Sir\nGaheris, and there he rode afore the same night, and waited upon Sir\nLamorak, and then he saw where he came all armed. And where Sir Lamorak\nalighted he tied his horse to a privy postern, and so he went into a\nparlour and unarmed him; and then he went unto the queen\u2019s bed, and she\nmade of him passing great joy, and he of her again, for either loved\nother passing sore. So when the knight, Sir Gaheris, saw his time, he\ncame to their bedside all armed, with his sword naked, and suddenly gat\nhis mother by the hair and struck off her head.\nWhen Sir Lamorak saw the blood dash upon him all hot, the which he\nloved passing well, wit you well he was sore abashed and dismayed of\nthat dolorous knight. And therewithal, Sir Lamorak leapt out of the bed\nin his shirt as a knight dismayed, saying thus: Ah, Sir Gaheris, knight\nof the Table Round, foul and evil have ye done, and to you great shame.\nAlas, why have ye slain your mother that bare you? with more right ye\nshould have slain me. The offence hast thou done, said Gaheris,\nnotwithstanding a man is born to offer his service; but yet shouldst\nthou beware with whom thou meddlest, for thou hast put me and my\nbrethren to a shame, and thy father slew our father; and thou to lie by\nour mother is too much shame for us to suffer. And as for thy father,\nKing Pellinore, my brother Sir Gawaine and I slew him. Ye did him the\nmore wrong, said Sir Lamorak, for my father slew not your father, it\nwas Balin le Savage: and as yet my father\u2019s death is not revenged.\nLeave those words, said Sir Gaheris, for an thou speak feloniously I\nwill slay thee. But because thou art naked I am ashamed to slay thee.\nBut wit thou well, in what place I may get thee I shall slay thee; and\nnow my mother is quit of thee; and withdraw thee and take thine armour,\nthat thou were gone. Sir Lamorak saw there was none other bote, but\nfast armed him, and took his horse and rode his way making great\nsorrow. But for the shame and dolour he would not ride to King Arthur\u2019s\ncourt, but rode another way.\nBut when it was known that Gaheris had slain his mother the king was\npassing wroth, and commanded him to go out of his court. Wit ye well\nSir Gawaine was wroth that Gaheris had slain his mother and let Sir\nLamorak escape. And for this matter was the king passing wroth, and so\nwas Sir Launcelot, and many other knights. Sir, said Sir Launcelot,\nhere is a great mischief befallen by felony, and by forecast treason,\nthat your sister is thus shamefully slain. And I dare say that it was\nwrought by treason, and I dare say ye shall lose that good knight, Sir\nLamorak, the which is great pity. I wot well and am sure, an Sir\nTristram wist it, he would never more come within your court, the which\nshould grieve you much more and all your knights. God defend, said the\nnoble King Arthur, that I should lose Sir Lamorak or Sir Tristram, for\nthen twain of my chief knights of the Table Round were gone. Sir, said\nSir Launcelot, I am sure ye shall lose Sir Lamorak, for Sir Gawaine and\nhis brethren will slay him by one mean or other; for they among them\nhave concluded and sworn to slay him an ever they may see their time.\nThat shall I let, said Arthur.\nCHAPTER XXV. How Sir Agravaine and Sir Mordred met with a knight\nfleeing, and how they both were overthrown, and of Sir Dinadan.\nNow leave we of Sir Lamorak, and speak of Sir Gawaine\u2019s brethren, and\nspecially of Sir Agravaine and Sir Mordred. As they rode on their\nadventures they met with a knight fleeing, sore wounded; and they asked\nhim what tidings. Fair knights, said he, here cometh a knight after me\nthat will slay me. With that came Sir Dinadan riding to them by\nadventure, but he would promise them no help. But Sir Agravaine and Sir\nMordred promised him to rescue him. Therewithal came that knight\nstraight unto them, and anon he proffered to joust. That saw Sir\nMordred and rode to him, but he struck Mordred over his horse\u2019s tail.\nThat saw Sir Agravaine, and straight he rode toward that knight, and\nright so as he served Mordred so he served Agravaine, and said to them:\nSirs, wit ye well both that I am Breuse Saunce Pit\u00e9, that hath done\nthis to you. And yet he rode over Agravaine five or six times. When\nDinadan saw this, he must needs joust with him for shame. And so\nDinadan and he encountered together, that with pure strength Sir\nDinadan smote him over his horse\u2019s tail. Then he took his horse and\nfled, for he was on foot one of the valiantest knights in Arthur\u2019s\ndays, and a great destroyer of all good knights.\nThen rode Sir Dinadan unto Sir Mordred and unto Sir Agravaine. Sir\nknight, said they all, well have ye done, and well have ye revenged us,\nwherefore we pray you tell us your name. Fair sirs, ye ought to know my\nname, the which is called Sir Dinadan. When they understood that it was\nDinadan they were more wroth than they were before, for they hated him\nout of measure because of Sir Lamorak. For Dinadan had such a custom\nthat he loved all good knights that were valiant, and he hated all\nthose that were destroyers of good knights. And there were none that\nhated Dinadan but those that ever were called murderers. Then spake the\nhurt knight that Breuse Saunce Pit\u00e9 had chased, his name was Dalan, and\nsaid: If thou be Dinadan thou slewest my father. It may well be so,\nsaid Dinadan, but then it was in my defence and at his request. By my\nhead, said Dalan, thou shalt die therefore, and therewith he dressed\nhis spear and his shield. And to make the shorter tale, Sir Dinadan\nsmote him down off his horse, that his neck was nigh broken. And in the\nsame wise he smote Sir Mordred and Sir Agravaine. And after, in the\nquest of the Sangreal, cowardly and feloniously they slew Dinadan, the\nwhich was great damage, for he was a great bourder and a passing good\nknight.\nAnd so Sir Dinadan rode to a castle that hight Beale-Valet. And there\nhe found Sir Palomides that was not yet whole of the wound that Sir\nLamorak gave him. And there Dinadan told Palomides all the tidings that\nhe heard and saw of Sir Tristram, and how he was gone with King Mark,\nand with him he hath all his will and desire. Therewith Sir Palomides\nwaxed wroth, for he loved La Beale Isoud. And then he wist well that\nSir Tristram enjoyed her.\nCHAPTER XXVI. How King Arthur, the Queen, and Launcelot received\nletters out of Cornwall, and of the answer again.\nNow leave we Sir Palomides and Sir Dinadan in the Castle of\nBeale-Valet, and turn we again unto King Arthur. There came a knight\nout of Cornwall, his name was Fergus, a fellow of the Round Table. And\nthere he told the king and Sir Launcelot good tidings of Sir Tristram,\nand there were brought goodly letters, and how he left him in the\ncastle of Tintagil. Then came the damosel that brought goodly letters\nunto King Arthur and unto Sir Launcelot, and there she had passing good\ncheer of the king, and of the Queen Guenever, and of Sir Launcelot.\nThen they wrote goodly letters again. But Sir Launcelot bade ever Sir\nTristram beware of King Mark, for ever he called him in his letters\nKing Fox, as who saith, he fareth all with wiles and treason. Whereof\nSir Tristram in his heart thanked Sir Launcelot. Then the damosel went\nunto La Beale Isoud, and bare her letters from the king and from Sir\nLauncelot, whereof she was in passing great joy. Fair damosel, said La\nBeale Isoud, how fareth my Lord Arthur, and the Queen Guenever, and the\nnoble knight, Sir Launcelot? She answered, and to make short tale: Much\nthe better that ye and Sir Tristram be in joy. God reward them, said La\nBeale Isoud, for Sir Tristram suffereth great pain for me, and I for\nhim.\nSo the damosel departed, and brought letters to King Mark. And when he\nhad read them, and understood them, he was wroth with Sir Tristram, for\nhe deemed that he had sent the damosel unto King Arthur. For Arthur and\nLauncelot in a manner threated King Mark. And as King Mark read these\nletters he deemed treason by Sir Tristram. Damosel, said King Mark,\nwill ye ride again and bear letters from me unto King Arthur? Sir, she\nsaid, I will be at your commandment to ride when ye will. Ye say well,\nsaid the king; come again, said the king, to-morn, and fetch your\nletters. Then she departed and told them how she should ride again with\nletters unto Arthur. Then we pray you, said La Beale Isoud and Sir\nTristram, that when ye have received your letters, that ye would come\nby us that we may see the privity of your letters. All that I may do,\nmadam, ye wot well I must do for Sir Tristram, for I have been long his\nown maiden.\nSo on the morn the damosel went to King Mark to have had his letters\nand to depart. I am not avised, said King Mark, as at this time to send\nmy letters. Then privily and secretly he sent letters unto King Arthur,\nand unto Queen Guenever, and unto Sir Launcelot. So the varlet\ndeparted, and found the king and the queen in Wales, at Carlion. And as\nthe king and the queen were at mass the varlet came with the letters.\nAnd when mass was done the king and the queen opened the letters\nprivily by themself. And the beginning of the king\u2019s letters spake\nwonderly short unto King Arthur, and bade him entermete with himself\nand with his wife, and of his knights; for he was able enough to rule\nand keep his wife.\nCHAPTER XXVII. How Sir Launcelot was wroth with the letter that he\nreceived from King Mark, and of Dinadan which made a lay of King Mark.\nWhen King Arthur understood the letter, he mused of many things, and\nthought on his sister\u2019s words, Queen Morgan le Fay, that she had said\nbetwixt Queen Guenever and Sir Launcelot. And in this thought he\nstudied a great while. Then he bethought him again how his sister was\nhis own enemy, and that she hated the queen and Sir Launcelot, and so\nhe put all that out of his thought. Then King Arthur read the letter\nagain, and the latter clause said that King Mark took Sir Tristram for\nhis mortal enemy; wherefore he put Arthur out of doubt he would be\nrevenged of Sir Tristram. Then was King Arthur wroth with King Mark.\nAnd when Queen Guenever read her letter and understood it, she was\nwroth out of measure, for the letter spake shame by her and by Sir\nLauncelot. And so privily she sent the letter unto Sir Launcelot. And\nwhen he wist the intent of the letter he was so wroth that he laid him\ndown on his bed to sleep, whereof Sir Dinadan was ware, for it was his\nmanner to be privy with all good knights. And as Sir Launcelot slept he\nstole the letter out of his hand, and read it word by word. And then he\nmade great sorrow for anger. And so Sir Launcelot awaked, and went to a\nwindow, and read the letter again, the which made him angry.\nSir, said Dinadan, wherefore be ye angry? discover your heart to me:\nforsooth ye wot well I owe you good will, howbeit I am a poor knight\nand a servitor unto you and to all good knights. For though I be not of\nworship myself I love all those that be of worship. It is truth, said\nSir Launcelot, ye are a trusty knight, and for great trust I will shew\nyou my counsel. And when Dinadan understood all, he said: This is my\ncounsel: set you right nought by these threats, for King Mark is so\nvillainous, that by fair speech shall never man get of him. But ye\nshall see what I shall do; I will make a lay for him, and when it is\nmade I shall make an harper to sing it afore him. So anon he went and\nmade it, and taught it an harper that hight Eliot. And when he could\nit, he taught it to many harpers. And so by the will of Sir Launcelot,\nand of Arthur, the harpers went straight into Wales, and into Cornwall,\nto sing the lay that Sir Dinadan made by King Mark, the which was the\nworst lay that ever harper sang with harp or with any other\ninstruments.\nCHAPTER XXVIII. How Sir Tristram was hurt, and of a war made to King\nMark; and of Sir Tristram how he promised to rescue him.\nNow turn we again unto Sir Tristram and to King Mark. As Sir Tristram\nwas at jousts and at tournament it fortuned he was sore hurt both with\na spear and with a sword, but yet he won always the degree. And for to\nrepose him he went to a good knight that dwelled in Cornwall, in a\ncastle, whose name was Sir Dinas le Seneschal. Then by misfortune there\ncame out of Sessoin a great number of men of arms, and an hideous host,\nand they entered nigh the Castle of Tintagil; and their captain\u2019s name\nwas Elias, a good man of arms. When King Mark understood his enemies\nwere entered into his land he made great dole and sorrow, for in no\nwise by his will King Mark would not send for Sir Tristram, for he\nhated him deadly.\nSo when his council was come they devised and cast many perils of the\nstrength of their enemies. And then they concluded all at once, and\nsaid thus unto King Mark: Sir, wit ye well ye must send for Sir\nTristram, the good knight, or else they will never be overcome. For by\nSir Tristram they must be foughten withal, or else we row against the\nstream. Well, said King Mark, I will do by your counsel; but yet he was\nfull loath thereto, but need constrained him to send for him. Then was\nhe sent for in all haste that might be, that he should come to King\nMark. And when he understood that King Mark had sent for him, he\nmounted upon a soft ambler and rode to King Mark. And when he was come\nthe king said thus: Fair nephew Sir Tristram, this is all. Here be come\nour enemies of Sessoin, that are here nigh hand, and without tarrying\nthey must be met with shortly, or else they will destroy this country.\nSir, said Sir Tristram, wit ye well all my power is at your\ncommandment. And wit ye well, sir, these eight days I may bear none\narms, for my wounds be not yet whole. And by that day I shall do what I\nmay. Ye say well, said King Mark; then go ye again and repose you and\nmake you fresh, and I shall go and meet the Sessoins with all my power.\nSo the king departed unto Tintagil, and Sir Tristram went to repose\nhim. And the king made a great host and departed them in three; the\nfirst part led Sir Dinas the Seneschal, and Sir Andred led the second\npart, and Sir Argius led the third part; and he was of the blood of\nKing Mark. And the Sessoins had three great battles, and many good men\nof arms. And so King Mark by the advice of his knights issued out of\nthe Castle of Tintagil upon his enemies. And Dinas, the good knight,\nrode out afore, and slew two knights with his own hands, and then began\nthe battles. And there was marvellous breaking of spears and smiting of\nswords, and slew down many good knights. And ever was Sir Dinas the\nSeneschal the best of King Mark\u2019s party. And thus the battle endured\nlong with great mortality. But at the last King Mark and Sir Dinas,\nwere they never so loath, they withdrew them to the Castle of Tintagil\nwith great slaughter of people; and the Sessoins followed on fast, that\nten of them were put within the gates and four slain with the\nportcullis.\nThen King Mark sent for Sir Tristram by a varlet, that told him all the\nmortality. Then he sent the varlet again, and bade him: Tell King Mark\nthat I will come as soon as I am whole, for erst I may do him no good.\nThen King Mark had his answer. Therewith came Elias and bade the king\nyield up the castle: For ye may not hold it no while. Sir Elias, said\nthe king, so will I yield up the castle if I be not soon rescued. Anon\nKing Mark sent again for rescue to Sir Tristram. By then Sir Tristram\nwas whole, and he had gotten him ten good knights of Arthur\u2019s; and with\nthem he rode unto Tintagil. And when he saw the great host of Sessoins\nhe marvelled wonder greatly. And then Sir Tristram rode by the woods\nand by the ditches as secretly as he might, till he came nigh the\ngates. And there dressed a knight to him when he saw that Sir Tristram\nwould enter; and Sir Tristram smote him down dead, and so he served\nthree more. And everych of these ten knights slew a man of arms. So Sir\nTristram entered into the Castle of Tintagil. And when King Mark wist\nthat Sir Tristram was come he was glad of his coming, and so was all\nthe fellowship, and of him they made great joy.\nCHAPTER XXIX. How Sir Tristram overcame the battle, and how Elias\ndesired a man to fight body for body.\nSo on the morn Elias the captain came, and bade King Mark: Come out and\ndo battle; for now the good knight Sir Tristram is entered it will be\nshame to thee, said Elias, for to keep thy walls. When King Mark\nunderstood this he was wroth and said no word, but went unto Sir\nTristram and asked him his counsel. Sir, said Sir Tristram, will ye\nthat I give him his answer? I will well, said King Mark. Then Sir\nTristram said thus to the messenger: Bear thy lord word from the king\nand me, that we will do battle with him to-morn in the plain field.\nWhat is your name? said the messenger. Wit thou well my name is Sir\nTristram de Liones. Therewithal the messenger departed and told his\nlord Elias all that he had heard. Sir, said Sir Tristram unto King\nMark, I pray you give me leave to have the rule of the battle. I pray\nyou take the rule, said King Mark. Then Sir Tristram let devise the\nbattle in what manner that it should be. He let depart his host in six\nparties, and ordained Sir Dinas the Seneschal to have the foreward, and\nother knights to rule the remnant. And the same night Sir Tristram\nburnt all the Sessoins\u2019 ships unto the cold water. Anon, as Elias wist\nthat, he said it was of Sir Tristram\u2019s doing: For he casteth that we\nshall never escape, mother son of us. Therefore, fair fellows, fight\nfreely to-morrow, and miscomfort you nought; for any knight, though he\nbe the best knight in the world, he may not have ado with us all.\nThen they ordained their battle in four parties, wonderly well\napparelled and garnished with men of arms. Thus they within issued, and\nthey without set freely upon them; and there Sir Dinas did great deeds\nof arms. Not for then Sir Dinas and his fellowship were put to the\nworse. With that came Sir Tristram and slew two knights with one spear;\nthen he slew on the right hand and on the left hand, that men marvelled\nthat ever he might do such deeds of arms. And then he might see\nsometime the battle was driven a bow-draught from the castle, and\nsometime it was at the gates of the castle. Then came Elias the captain\nrushing here and there, and hit King Mark so sore upon the helm that he\nmade him to avoid the saddle. And then Sir Dinas gat King Mark again to\nhorseback. Therewithal came in Sir Tristram like a lion, and there he\nmet with Elias, and he smote him so sore upon the helm that he avoided\nhis saddle. And thus they fought till it was night, and for great\nslaughter and for wounded people everych party drew to their rest.\nAnd when King Mark was come within the Castle of Tintagil he lacked of\nhis knights an hundred, and they without lacked two hundred; and they\nsearched the wounded men on both parties. And then they went to\ncouncil; and wit you well either party were loath to fight more, so\nthat either might escape with their worship. When Elias the captain\nunderstood the death of his men he made great dole; and when he wist\nthat they were loath to go to battle again he was wroth out of measure.\nThen Elias sent word unto King Mark, in great despite, whether he would\nfind a knight that would fight for him body for body. And if that he\nmight slay King Mark\u2019s knight, he to have the truage of Cornwall\nyearly. And if that his knight slay mine, I fully release my claim\nforever. Then the messenger departed unto King Mark, and told him how\nthat his lord Elias had sent him word to find a knight to do battle\nwith him body for body. When King Mark understood the messenger, he\nbade him abide and he should have his answer. Then called he all the\nbaronage together to wit what was the best counsel. They said all at\nonce: To fight in a field we have no lust, for had not been Sir\nTristram\u2019s prowess it had been likely that we never should have\nescaped; and therefore, sir, as we deem, it were well done to find a\nknight that would do battle with him, for he knightly proffereth.\nCHAPTER XXI. How Sir Elias and Sir Tristram fought together for the\ntruage, and how Sir Tristram slew Elias in the field.\nNot for then when all this was said, they could find no knight that\nwould do battle with him. Sir king, said they all, here is no knight\nthat dare fight with Elias. Alas, said King Mark, then am I utterly\nashamed and utterly destroyed, unless that my nephew Sir Tristram will\ntake the battle upon him. Wit you well, they said all, he had yesterday\novermuch on hand, and he is weary for travail, and sore wounded. Where\nis he? said King Mark. Sir, said they, he is in his bed to repose him.\nAlas, said King Mark, but I have the succour of my nephew Sir Tristram,\nI am utterly destroyed for ever.\nTherewith one went to Sir Tristram where he lay, and told him what King\nMark had said. And therewith Sir Tristram arose lightly, and put on him\na long gown, and came afore the king and all the lords. And when he saw\nthem all so dismayed he asked the king and the lords what tidings were\nwith them. Never worse, said the king. And therewith he told him all,\nhow he had word of Elias to find a knight to fight for the truage of\nCornwall, and none can I find. And as for you, said the king and all\nthe lords, we may ask no more of you for shame; for through your\nhardiness yesterday ye saved all our lives. Sir, said Sir Tristram, now\nI understand ye would have my succour, reason would that I should do\nall that lieth in my power to do, saving my worship and my life,\nhowbeit I am sore bruised and hurt. And sithen Sir Elias proffereth so\nlargely, I shall fight with him, or else I will be slain in the field,\nor else I will deliver Cornwall from the old truage. And therefore\nlightly call his messenger and he shall be answered, for as yet my\nwounds be green, and they will be sorer a seven night after than they\nbe now; and therefore he shall have his answer that I will do battle\nto-morn with him.\nThen was the messenger departed brought before King Mark. Hark, my\nfellow, said Sir Tristram, go fast unto thy lord, and bid him make true\nassurance on his part for the truage, as the king here shall make on\nhis part; and then tell thy lord, Sir Elias, that I, Sir Tristram, King\nArthur\u2019s knight, and knight of the Table Round, will as to-morn meet\nwith thy lord on horseback, to do battle as long as my horse may\nendure, and after that to do battle with him on foot to the utterance.\nThe messenger beheld Sir Tristram from the top to the toe; and\ntherewithal he departed and came to his lord, and told him how he was\nanswered of Sir Tristram. And therewithal was made hostage on both\nparties, and made it as sure as it might be, that whether party had the\nvictory, so to end. And then were both hosts assembled on both parts of\nthe field, without the Castle of Tintagil, and there was none but Sir\nTristram and Sir Elias armed.\nSo when the appointment was made, they departed in-sunder, and they\ncame together with all the might that their horses might run. And\neither knight smote other so hard that both horses and knights went to\nthe earth. Not for then they both lightly arose and dressed their\nshields on their shoulders, with naked swords in their hands, and they\ndashed together that it seemed a flaming fire about them. Thus they\ntraced, and traversed, and hewed on helms and hauberks, and cut away\nmany cantels of their shields, and either wounded other passing sore,\nso that the hot blood fell freshly upon the earth. And by then they had\nfoughten the mountenance of an hour Sir Tristram waxed faint and\nfor-bled, and gave sore aback. That saw Sir Elias, and followed\nfiercely upon him, and wounded him in many places. And ever Sir\nTristram traced and traversed, and went froward him here and there, and\ncovered him with his shield as he might all weakly, that all men said\nhe was overcome; for Sir Elias had given him twenty strokes against\none.\nThen was there laughing of the Sessoins\u2019 party, and great dole on King\nMark\u2019s party. Alas, said the king, we are ashamed and destroyed all for\never: for as the book saith, Sir Tristram was never so matched, but if\nit were Sir Launcelot. Thus as they stood and beheld both parties, that\none party laughing and the other party weeping, Sir Tristram remembered\nhim of his lady, La Beale Isoud, that looked upon him, and how he was\nlikely never to come in her presence. Then he pulled up his shield that\nerst hung full low. And then he dressed up his shield unto Elias, and\ngave him many sad strokes, twenty against one, and all to-brake his\nshield and his hauberk, that the hot blood ran down to the earth. Then\nbegan King Mark to laugh, and all Cornish men, and that other party to\nweep. And ever Sir Tristram said to Sir Elias: Yield thee.\nThen when Sir Tristram saw him so staggering on the ground, he said:\nSir Elias, I am right sorry for thee, for thou art a passing good\nknight as ever I met withal, except Sir Launcelot. Therewithal Sir\nElias fell to the earth, and there died. What shall I do, said Sir\nTristram unto King Mark, for this battle is at an end? Then they of\nElias\u2019 party departed, and King Mark took of them many prisoners, to\nredress the harms and the scathes that he had of them; and the remnant\nhe sent into their country to borrow out their fellows. Then was Sir\nTristram searched and well healed. Yet for all this King Mark would\nfain have slain Sir Tristram. But for all that ever Sir Tristram saw or\nheard by King Mark, yet would he never beware of his treason, but ever\nhe would be thereas La Beale Isoud was.\nCHAPTER XXXI. How at a great feast that King Mark made an harper came\nand sang the lay that Dinadan had made.\nNow will we pass of this matter, and speak we of the harpers that Sir\nLauncelot and Sir Dinadan had sent into Cornwall. And at the great\nfeast that King Mark made for joy that the Sessoins were put out of his\ncountry, then came Eliot the harper with the lay that Dinadan had made\nand secretly brought it unto Sir Tristram, and told him the lay that\nDinadan had made by King Mark. And when Sir Tristram heard it, he said:\nO Lord Jesu, that Dinadan can make wonderly well and ill, thereas it\nshall be. Sir, said Eliot, dare I sing this song afore King Mark? Yea,\non my peril, said Sir Tristram, for I shall be thy warrant. Then at the\nmeat came in Eliot the harper, and because he was a curious harper men\nheard him sing the same lay that Dinadan had made, the which spake the\nmost villainy by King Mark of his treason that ever man heard.\nWhen the harper had sung his song to the end King Mark was wonderly\nwroth, and said: Thou harper, how durst thou be so bold on thy head to\nsing this song afore me. Sir, said Eliot, wit you well I am a minstrel,\nand I must do as I am commanded of these lords that I bear the arms of.\nAnd sir, wit ye well that Sir Dinadan, a knight of the Table Round,\nmade this song, and made me to sing it afore you. Thou sayest well,\nsaid King Mark, and because thou art a minstrel thou shalt go quit, but\nI charge thee hie thee fast out of my sight. So the harper departed and\nwent to Sir Tristram, and told him how he had sped. Then Sir Tristram\nlet make letters as goodly as he could to Launcelot and to Sir Dinadan.\nAnd so he let conduct the harper out of the country. But to say that\nKing Mark was wonderly wroth, he was, for he deemed that the lay that\nwas sung afore him was made by Sir Tristram\u2019s counsel, wherefore he\nthought to slay him and all his well-willers in that country.\nCHAPTER XXXII. How King Mark slew by treason his brother Boudwin, for\ngood service that he had done to him.\nNow turn we to another matter that fell between King Mark and his\nbrother, that was called the good Prince Boudwin, that all the people\nof the country loved passing well. So it befell on a time that the\nmiscreant Saracens landed in the country of Cornwall soon after these\nSessoins were gone. And then the good Prince Boudwin, at the landing,\nhe raised the country privily and hastily. And or it were day he let\nput wildfire in three of his own ships, and suddenly he pulled up the\nsail, and with the wind he made those ships to be driven among the navy\nof the Saracens. And to make short tale, those three ships set on fire\nall the ships, that none were saved. And at point of the day the good\nPrince Boudwin with all his fellowship set on the miscreants with\nshouts and cries, and slew to the number of forty thousand, and left\nnone alive.\nWhen King Mark wist this he was wonderly wroth that his brother should\nwin such worship. And because this prince was better beloved than he in\nall that country, and that also Boudwin loved well Sir Tristram,\ntherefore he thought to slay him. And thus, hastily, as a man out of\nhis wit, he sent for Prince Boudwin and Anglides his wife, and bade\nthem bring their young son with them, that he might see him. All this\nhe did to the intent to slay the child as well as his father, for he\nwas the falsest traitor that ever was born. Alas, for his goodness and\nfor his good deeds this gentle Prince Boudwin was slain. So when he\ncame with his wife Anglides, the king made them fair semblant till they\nhad dined. And when they had dined King Mark sent for his brother and\nsaid thus: Brother, how sped you when the miscreants arrived by you?\nmeseemeth it had been your part to have sent me word, that I might have\nbeen at that journey, for it had been reason that I had had the honour\nand not you. Sir, said the Prince Boudwin, it was so that an I had\ntarried till that I had sent for you those miscreants had destroyed my\ncountry. Thou liest, false traitor, said King Mark, for thou art ever\nabout for to win worship from me, and put me to dishonour, and thou\ncherishest that I hate. And therewith he struck him to the heart with a\ndagger, that he never after spake word. Then the Lady Anglides made\ngreat dole, and swooned, for she saw her lord slain afore her face.\nThen was there no more to do but Prince Boudwin was despoiled and\nbrought to burial. But Anglides privily gat her husband\u2019s doublet and\nhis shirt, and that she kept secretly.\nThen was there much sorrow and crying, and great dole made Sir\nTristram, Sir Dinas, Sir Fergus, and so did all knights that were\nthere; for that prince was passingly well beloved. So La Beale Isoud\nsent unto Anglides, the Prince Boudwin\u2019s wife, and bade her avoid\nlightly or else her young son, Alisander le Orphelin, should be slain.\nWhen she heard this, she took her horse and her child; and rode with\nsuch poor men as durst ride with her.\nCHAPTER XXXIII. How Anglides, Boudwin\u2019s wife, escaped with her young\nson, Alisander le Orphelin, and came to the Castle of Arundel.\nNotwithstanding, when King Mark had done this deed, yet he thought to\ndo more vengeance; and with his sword in his hand, he sought from\nchamber to chamber, to seek Anglides and her young son. And when she\nwas missed he called a good knight that hight Sadok, and charged him by\npain of death to fetch Anglides again and her young son. So Sir Sadok\ndeparted and rode after Anglides. And within ten mile he overtook her,\nand bade her turn again and ride with him to King Mark. Alas, fair\nknight, she said, what shall ye win by my son\u2019s death or by mine? I\nhave had overmuch harm and too great a loss. Madam, said Sadok, of your\nloss is dole and pity; but madam, said Sadok, would ye depart out of\nthis country with your son, and keep him till he be of age, that he may\nrevenge his father\u2019s death, then would I suffer you to depart from me,\nso you promise me to revenge the death of Prince Boudwin. Ah, gentle\nknight, Jesu thank thee, and if ever my son, Alisander le Orphelin,\nlive to be a knight, he shall have his father\u2019s doublet and his shirt\nwith the bloody marks, and I shall give him such a charge that he shall\nremember it while he liveth. And therewithal Sadok departed from her,\nand either betook other to God. And when Sadok came to King Mark he\ntold him faithfully that he had drowned young Alisander her son; and\nthereof King Mark was full glad.\nNow turn we unto Anglides, that rode both night and day by adventure\nout of Cornwall, and little and in few places she rested; but ever she\ndrew southward to the seaside, till by fortune she came to a castle\nthat is called Magouns, and now it is called Arundel, in Sussex. And\nthe Constable of the castle welcomed her, and said she was welcome to\nher own castle; and there was Anglides worshipfully received, for the\nConstable\u2019s wife was nigh her cousin, and the Constable\u2019s name was\nBellangere; and that same Constable told Anglides that the same castle\nwas hers by right inheritance. Thus Anglides endured years and winters,\ntill Alisander was big and strong; there was none so wight in all that\ncountry, neither there was none that might do no manner of mastery\nafore him.\nCHAPTER XXXIV. How Anglides gave the bloody doublet to Alisander, her\nson, the same day that he was made knight, and the charge withal.\nThen upon a day Bellangere the Constable came to Anglides and said:\nMadam, it were time my lord Alisander were made knight, for he is a\npassing strong young man. Sir, said she, I would he were made knight;\nbut then must I give him the most charge that ever sinful mother gave\nto her child. Do as ye list, said Bellangere, and I shall give him\nwarning that he shall be made knight. Now it will be well done that he\nmay be made knight at our Lady Day in Lent. Be it so, said Anglides,\nand I pray you make ready therefore. So came the Constable to\nAlisander, and told him that he should at our Lady Day in Lent be made\nknight. I thank God, said Alisander; these are the best tidings that\never came to me. Then the Constable ordained twenty of the greatest\ngentlemen\u2019s sons, and the best born men of the country, that should be\nmade knights that same day that Alisander was made knight. So on the\nsame day that Alisander and his twenty fellows were made knights, at\nthe offering of the mass there came Anglides unto her son and said\nthus: O fair sweet son, I charge thee upon my blessing, and of the high\norder of chivalry that thou takest here this day, that thou understand\nwhat I shall say and charge thee withal. Therewithal she pulled out a\nbloody doublet and a bloody shirt, that were be-bled with old blood.\nWhen Alisander saw this he stert aback and waxed pale, and said: Fair\nmother, what may this mean? I shall tell thee, fair son: this was thine\nown father\u2019s doublet and shirt, that he wore upon him that same day\nthat he was slain. And there she told him why and wherefore, and how\nfor his goodness King Mark slew him with his dagger afore mine own\neyen. And therefore this shall be your charge that I shall give thee.\nCHAPTER XXXV. How it was told to King Mark of Sir Alisander, and how he\nwould have slain Sir Sadok for saving his life.\nNow I require thee, and charge thee upon my blessing, and upon the high\norder of knighthood, that thou be revenged upon King Mark for the death\nof thy father. And therewithal she swooned. Then Alisander leapt to his\nmother, and took her up in his arms, and said: Fair mother, ye have\ngiven me a great charge, and here I promise you I shall be avenged upon\nKing Mark when that I may; and that I promise to God and to you. So\nthis feast was ended, and the Constable, by the advice of Anglides, let\npurvey that Alisander was well horsed and harnessed. Then he jousted\nwith his twenty fellows that were made knights with him, but for to\nmake a short tale, he overthrew all those twenty, that none might\nwithstand him a buffet.\nThen one of those knights departed unto King Mark, and told him all,\nhow Alisander was made knight, and all the charge that his mother gave\nhim, as ye have heard afore time. Alas, false treason, said King Mark,\nI weened that young traitor had been dead. Alas, whom may I trust? And\ntherewithal King Mark took a sword in his hand; and sought Sir Sadok\nfrom chamber to chamber to slay him. When Sir Sadok saw King Mark come\nwith his sword in his hand he said thus: Beware, King Mark, and come\nnot nigh me; for wit thou well that I saved Alisander his life, of\nwhich I never repent me, for thou falsely and cowardly slew his father\nBoudwin, traitorly for his good deeds; wherefore I pray Almighty Jesu\nsend Alisander might and strength to be revenged upon thee. And now\nbeware King Mark of young Alisander, for he is made a knight. Alas,\nsaid King Mark, that ever I should hear a traitor say so afore me. And\ntherewith four knights of King Mark\u2019s drew their swords to slay Sir\nSadok, but anon Sir Sadok slew them all in King Mark\u2019s presence. And\nthen Sir Sadok passed forth into his chamber, and took his horse and\nhis harness, and rode on his way a good pace. For there was neither Sir\nTristram, neither Sir Dinas, nor Sir Fergus, that would Sir Sadok any\nevil will. Then was King Mark wroth, and thought to destroy Sir\nAlisander and Sir Sadok that had saved him; for King Mark dreaded and\nhated Alisander most of any man living.\nWhen Sir Tristram understood that Alisander was made knight, anon\nforthwithal he sent him a letter, praying him and charging him that he\nwould draw him to the court of King Arthur, and that he put him in the\nrule and in the hands of Sir Launcelot. So this letter was sent to\nAlisander from his cousin, Sir Tristram. And at that time he thought to\ndo after his commandment. Then King Mark called a knight that brought\nhim the tidings from Alisander, and bade him abide still in that\ncountry. Sir, said that knight, so must I do, for in my own country I\ndare not come. No force, said King Mark, I shall give thee here double\nas much lands as ever thou hadst of thine own. But within short space\nSir Sadok met with that false knight, and slew him. Then was King Mark\nwood wroth out of measure. Then he sent unto Queen Morgan le Fay, and\nto the Queen of Northgalis, praying them in his letters that they two\nsorceresses would set all the country in fire with ladies that were\nenchantresses, and by such that were dangerous knights, as Malgrin,\nBreuse Saunce Pit\u00e9, that by no mean Alisander le Orphelin should\nescape, but either he should be taken or slain. This ordinance made\nKing Mark for to destroy Alisander.\nCHAPTER XXXVI. How Sir Alisander won the prize at a tournament, and of\nMorgan le Fay: and how he fought with Sir Malgrin, and slew him.\nNow turn we again unto Sir Alisander, that at his departing his mother\ntook with him his father\u2019s bloody shirt. So that he bare with him\nalways till his death day, in tokening to think of his father\u2019s death.\nSo was Alisander purposed to ride to London, by the counsel of Sir\nTristram, to Sir Launcelot. And by fortune he went by the seaside, and\nrode wrong. And there he won at a tournament the gree that King Carados\nmade. And there he smote down King Carados and twenty of his knights,\nand also Sir Safere, a good knight that was Sir Palomides\u2019 brother, the\ngood knight. All this saw a damosel, and saw the best knight joust that\never she saw. And ever as he smote down knights he made them to swear\nto wear none harness in a twelvemonth and a day. This is well said,\nsaid Morgan le Fay, this is the knight that I would fain see. And so\nshe took her palfrey, and rode a great while, and then she rested her\nin her pavilion. So there came four knights, two were armed, and two\nwere unarmed, and they told Morgan le Fay their names: the first was\nElias de Gomeret, the second was Cari de Gomeret, those were armed;\nthat other twain were of Camiliard, cousins unto Queen Guenever, and\nthat one hight Guy, and that other hight Garaunt, those were unarmed.\nThere these four knights told Morgan le Fay how a young knight had\nsmitten them down before a castle. For the maiden of that castle said\nthat he was but late made knight, and young. But as we suppose, but if\nit were Sir Tristram, or Sir Launcelot, or Sir Lamorak, the good\nknight, there is none that might sit him a buffet with a spear. Well,\nsaid Morgan le Fay, I shall meet that knight or it be long time, an he\ndwell in that country.\nSo turn we to the damosel of the castle, that when Alisander le\nOrphelin had forjousted the four knights, she called him to her, and\nsaid thus: Sir knight, wilt thou for my sake joust and fight with a\nknight, for my sake, of this country, that is and hath been long time\nan evil neighbour to me? His name is Malgrin, and he will not suffer me\nto be married in no manner wise for all that I can do, or any knight\nfor my sake. Damosel, said Alisander, an he come whiles I am here I\nwill fight with him, and my poor body for your sake I will jeopard. And\ntherewithal she sent for him, for he was at her commandment. And when\neither had a sight of other, they made them ready for to joust, and\nthey came together eagerly, and Malgrin brised his spear upon\nAlisander, and Alisander smote him again so hard that he bare him quite\nfrom his saddle to the earth. But this Malgrin arose lightly, and\ndressed his shield and drew his sword, and bade him alight, saying:\nThough thou have the better of me on horseback, thou shalt find that I\nshall endure like a knight on foot. It is well said, said Alisander;\nand so lightly he avoided his horse and betook him to his varlet. And\nthen they rushed together like two boars, and laid on their helms and\nshields long time, by the space of three hours, that never man could\nsay which was the better knight.\nAnd in the meanwhile came Morgan le Fay to the damosel of the castle,\nand they beheld the battle. But this Malgrin was an old roted knight,\nand he was called one of the dangerous knights of the world to do\nbattle on foot, but on horseback there were many better. And ever this\nMalgrin awaited to slay Alisander, and so wounded him wonderly sore,\nthat it was marvel that ever he might stand, for he had bled so much\nblood; for Alisander fought wildly, and not wittily. And that other was\na felonious knight, and awaited him, and smote him sore. And sometime\nthey rushed together with their shields, like two boars or rams, and\nfell grovelling both to the earth. Now knight, said Malgrin, hold thy\nhand a while, and tell me what thou art. I will not, said Alisander,\nbut if me list: but tell me thy name, and why thou keepest this\ncountry, or else thou shalt die of my hands. Wit thou well, said\nMalgrin, that for this maiden\u2019s love, of this castle, I have slain ten\ngood knights by mishap; and by outrage and orgulit\u00e9 of myself I have\nslain ten other knights. So God me help, said Alisander, this is the\nfoulest confession that ever I heard knight make, nor never heard I\nspeak of other men of such a shameful confession; wherefore it were\ngreat pity and great shame unto me that I should let thee live any\nlonger; therefore keep thee as well as ever thou mayest, for as I am\ntrue knight, either thou shalt slay me or else I shall slay thee, I\npromise thee faithfully.\nThen they lashed together fiercely, and at the last Alisander smote\nMalgrin to the earth. And then he raced off his helm, and smote off his\nhead lightly. And when he had done and ended this battle, anon he\ncalled to him his varlet, the which brought him his horse. And then he,\nweening to be strong enough, would have mounted. And so she laid Sir\nAlisander in an horse litter, and led him into the castle, for he had\nno foot nor might to stand upon the earth; for he had sixteen great\nwounds, and in especial one of them was like to be his death.\nCHAPTER XXXVII. How Queen Morgan le Fay had Alisander in her castle,\nand how she healed his wounds.\nThen Queen Morgan le Fay searched his wounds, and gave such an ointment\nunto him that he should have died. And on the morn when she came to him\nhe complained him sore; and then she put other ointments upon him, and\nthen he was out of his pain. Then came the damosel of the castle, and\nsaid unto Morgan le Fay: I pray you help me that this knight might wed\nme, for he hath won me with his hands. Ye shall see, said Morgan le\nFay, what I shall say. Then Morgan le Fay went unto Alisander, and bade\nin anywise that he should refuse this lady, an she desire to wed you,\nfor she is not for you. So the damosel came and desired of him\nmarriage. Damosel, said Orphelin, I thank you, but as yet I cast me not\nto marry in this country. Sir, she said, sithen ye will not marry me, I\npray you insomuch as ye have won me, that ye will give me to a knight\nof this country that hath been my friend, and loved me many years. With\nall my heart, said Alisander, I will assent thereto. Then was the\nknight sent for, his name was Gerine le Grose. And anon he made them\nhandfast, and wedded them.\nThen came Queen Morgan le Fay to Alisander, and bade him arise, and put\nhim in an horse litter, and gave him such a drink that in three days\nand three nights he waked never, but slept; and so she brought him to\nher own castle that at that time was called La Beale Regard. Then\nMorgan le Fay came to Alisander, and asked him if he would fain be\nwhole. Who would be sick, said Alisander, an he might be whole? Well,\nsaid Morgan le Fay, then shall ye promise me by your knighthood that\nthis day twelvemonth and a day ye shall not pass the compass of this\ncastle, and without doubt ye shall lightly be whole. I assent, said Sir\nAlisander. And there he made her a promise: then was he soon whole. And\nwhen Alisander was whole, then he repented him of his oath, for he\nmight not be revenged upon King Mark. Right so there came a damosel\nthat was cousin to the Earl of Pase, and she was cousin to Morgan le\nFay. And by right that castle of La Beale Regard should have been hers\nby true inheritance. So this damosel entered into this castle where lay\nAlisander, and there she found him upon his bed, passing heavy and all\nsad.\nCHAPTER XXXVIII. How Alisander was delivered from Queen Morgan le Fay\nby the means of a damosel.\nSir knight, said the damosel, an ye would be merry I could tell you\ngood tidings. Well were me, said Alisander, an I might hear of good\ntidings, for now I stand as a prisoner by my promise. Sir, she said,\nwit you well that ye be a prisoner, and worse than ye ween; for my\nlady, my cousin Queen Morgan le Fay, keepeth you here for none other\nintent but for to do her pleasure with you when it liketh her. O Jesu\ndefend me, said Alisander, from such pleasure; for I had liefer cut\naway my hangers than I would do her such pleasure. As Jesu help me,\nsaid the damosel, an ye would love me and be ruled by me, I shall make\nyour deliverance with your worship. Tell me, said Alisander, by what\nmeans, and ye shall have my love. Fair knight, said she, this castle of\nright ought to be mine, and I have an uncle the which is a mighty earl,\nhe is Earl of Pase, and of all folks he hateth most Morgan le Fay; and\nI shall send unto him and pray him for my sake to destroy this castle\nfor the evil customs that be used therein; and then will he come and\nset wild-fire on every part of the castle, and I shall get you out at a\nprivy postern, and there shall ye have your horse and your harness. Ye\nsay well, damosel, said Alisander. And then she said: Ye may keep the\nroom of this castle this twelvemonth and a day, then break ye not your\noath. Truly, fair damosel, said Alisander, ye say sooth. And then he\nkissed her, and did to her pleasaunce as it pleased them both at times\nand leisures.\nSo anon she sent unto her uncle and bade him come and destroy that\ncastle, for as the book saith, he would have destroyed that castle\nafore time had not that damosel been. When the earl understood her\nletters he sent her word again that on such a day he would come and\ndestroy that castle. So when that day came she showed Alisander a\npostern wherethrough he should flee into a garden, and there he should\nfind his armour and his horse. When the day came that was set, thither\ncame the Earl of Pase with four hundred knights, and set on fire all\nthe parts of the castle, that or they ceased they left not a stone\nstanding. And all this while that the fire was in the castle he abode\nin the garden. And when the fire was done he let make a cry that he\nwould keep that piece of earth thereas the castle of La Beale Regard\nwas a twelvemonth and a day, from all manner knights that would come.\nSo it happed there was a duke that hight Ansirus, and he was of the kin\nof Sir Launcelot. And this knight was a great pilgrim, for every third\nyear he would be at Jerusalem. And because he used all his life to go\nin pilgrimage men called him Duke Ansirus the Pilgrim. And this duke\nhad a daughter that hight Alice, that was a passing fair woman, and\nbecause of her father she was called Alice la Beale Pilgrim. And anon\nas she heard of this cry she went unto Arthur\u2019s court, and said openly\nin hearing of many knights, that what knight may overcome that knight\nthat keepeth that piece of earth shall have me and all my lands.\nWhen the knights of the Round Table heard her say thus many were glad,\nfor she was passing fair and of great rents. Right so she let cry in\ncastles and towns as fast on her side as Alisander did on his side.\nThen she dressed her pavilion straight by the piece of the earth that\nAlisander kept. So she was not so soon there but there came a knight of\nArthur\u2019s court that hight Sagramore le Desirous, and he proffered to\njoust with Alisander; and they encountered, and Sagramore le Desirous\nbrised his spear upon Sir Alisander, but Sir Alisander smote him so\nhard that he avoided his saddle. And when La Beale Alice saw him joust\nso well, she thought him a passing goodly knight on horseback. And then\nshe leapt out of her pavilion, and took Sir Alisander by the bridle,\nand thus she said: Fair knight, I require thee of thy knighthood show\nme thy visage. I dare well, said Alisander, show my visage. And then he\nput off his helm; and she saw his visage, she said: O sweet Jesu, thee\nI must love, and never other. Then show me your visage, said he.\nCHAPTER XXXIX. How Alisander met with Alice la Beale Pilgrim, and how\nhe jousted with two knights; and after of him and of Sir Mordred.\nThen she unwimpled her visage. And when he saw her he said: Here have I\nfound my love and my lady. Truly, fair lady, said he, I promise you to\nbe your knight, and none other that beareth the life. Now, gentle\nknight, said she, tell me your name. My name is, said he, Alisander le\nOrphelin. Now, damosel, tell me your name, said he. My name is, said\nshe, Alice la Beale Pilgrim. And when we be more at our heart\u2019s ease,\nboth ye and I shall tell other of what blood we be come. So there was\ngreat love betwixt them. And as they thus talked there came a knight\nthat hight Harsouse le Berbuse, and asked part of Sir Alisander\u2019s\nspears. Then Sir Alisander encountered with him, and at the first Sir\nAlisander smote him over his horse\u2019s croup. And then there came another\nknight that hight Sir Hewgon, and Sir Alisander smote him down as he\ndid that other. Then Sir Hewgon proffered to do battle on foot. Sir\nAlisander overcame him with three strokes, and there would have slain\nhim had he not yielded him. So then Alisander made both those knights\nto swear to wear none armour in a twelvemonth and a day.\nThen Sir Alisander alighted down, and went to rest him and repose him.\nThen the damosel that helped Sir Alisander out of the castle, in her\nplay told Alice all together how he was prisoner in the castle of La\nBeale Regard, and there she told her how she got him out of prison.\nSir, said Alice la Beale Pilgrim, meseemeth ye are much beholding to\nthis maiden. That is truth, said Sir Alisander. And there Alice told\nhim of what blood she was come. Sir, wit ye well, she said, that I am\nof the blood of King Ban, that was father unto Sir Launcelot. Y-wis,\nfair lady, said Alisander, my mother told me that my father was brother\nunto a king, and I nigh cousin unto Sir Tristram.\nThen this while came there three knights, that one hight Vains, and the\nother hight Harvis de les Marches, and the third hight Perin de la\nMontaine. And with one spear Sir Alisander smote them down all three,\nand gave them such falls that they had no list to fight upon foot. So\nhe made them to swear to wear none arms in a twelvemonth. So when they\nwere departed Sir Alisander beheld his lady Alice on horseback as he\nstood in her pavilion. And then was he so enamoured upon her that he\nwist not whether he were on horseback or on foot.\nRight so came the false knight Sir Mordred, and saw Sir Alisander was\nassotted upon his lady; and therewithal he took his horse by the\nbridle, and led him here and there, and had cast to have led him out of\nthat place to have shamed him. When the damosel that helped him out of\nthat castle saw how shamefully he was led, anon she let arm her, and\nset a shield upon her shoulder; and therewith she mounted upon his\nhorse, and gat a naked sword in her hand, and she thrust unto Alisander\nwith all her might, and she gave him such a buffet that he thought the\nfire flew out of his eyen. And when Alisander felt that stroke he\nlooked about him, and drew his sword. And when she saw that, she fled,\nand so did Mordred into the forest, and the damosel fled into the\npavilion. So when Alisander understood himself how the false knight\nwould have shamed him had not the damosel been then was he wroth with\nhimself that Sir Mordred was so escaped his hands. But then Sir\nAlisander and Alice had good game at the damosel, how sadly she hit him\nupon the helm.\nThen Sir Alisander jousted thus day by day, and on foot he did many\nbattles with many knights of King Arthur\u2019s court, and with many knights\nstrangers. Therefore to tell all the battles that he did it were\novermuch to rehearse, for every day within that twelvemonth he had ado\nwith one knight or with other, and some day he had ado with three or\nwith four; and there was never knight that put him to the worse. And at\nthe twelvemonth\u2019s end he departed with his lady, Alice la Beale\nPilgrim. And the damosel would never go from him, and so they went into\ntheir country of Benoye, and lived there in great joy.\nCHAPTER XL. How Sir Galahalt did do cry a jousts in Surluse, and Queen\nGuenever\u2019s knights should joust against all that would come.\nBut as the book saith, King Mark would never stint till he had slain\nhim by treason. And by Alice he gat a child that hight Bellengerus le\nBeuse. And by good fortune he came to the court of King Arthur, and\nproved a passing good knight; and he revenged his father\u2019s death, for\nthe false King Mark slew both Sir Tristram and Alisander falsely and\nfeloniously. And it happed so that Alisander had never grace nor\nfortune to come to King Arthur\u2019s court. For an he had come to Sir\nLauncelot, all knights said that knew him, he was one of the strongest\nknights that was in Arthur\u2019s days, and great dole was made for him. So\nlet we of him pass, and turn we to another tale.\nSo it befell that Sir Galahalt, the haut prince, was lord of the\ncountry of Surluse, whereof came many good knights. And this noble\nprince was a passing good man of arms, and ever he held a noble\nfellowship together. And then he came to Arthur\u2019s court and told him\nhis intent, how this was his will, how he would let cry a jousts in the\ncountry of Surluse, the which country was within the lands of King\nArthur, and there he asked leave to let cry a jousts. I will give you\nleave, said King Arthur; but wit thou well, said King Arthur, I may not\nbe there. Sir, said Queen Guenever, please it you to give me leave to\nbe at that jousts. With right good will, said Arthur; for Sir Galahalt,\nthe haut prince, shall have you in governance. Sir, said Galahalt, I\nwill as ye will. Sir, then the queen, I will take with me [Sir\nLauncelot] and such knights as please me best. Do as ye list, said King\nArthur. So anon she commanded Sir Launcelot to make him ready with such\nknights as he thought best.\nSo in every good town and castle of this land was made a cry, that in\nthe country of Surluse Sir Galahalt should make a joust that should\nlast eight days, and how the haut prince, with the help of Queen\nGuenever\u2019s knights, should joust against all manner of men that would\ncome. When this cry was known, kings and princes, dukes and earls,\nbarons and noble knights, made them ready to be at that jousts. And at\nthe day of jousting there came in Sir Dinadan disguised, and did many\ngreat deeds of arms.\nCHAPTER XLI. How Sir Launcelot fought in the tournament, and how Sir\nPalomides did arms there for a damosel.\nThen at the request of Queen Guenever and of King Bagdemagus Sir\nLauncelot came into the range, but he was disguised, and that was the\ncause that few folk knew him; and there met with him Sir Ector de\nMaris, his own brother, and either brake their spears upon other to\ntheir hands. And then either gat another spear. And then Sir Launcelot\nsmote down Sir Ector de Maris, his own brother. That saw Sir Bleoberis,\nand he smote Sir Launcelot such a buffet upon the helm that he wist not\nwell where he was. Then Sir Launcelot was wrothy and smote Sir\nBleoberis so sore upon the helm that his head bowed down backward. And\nhe smote eft another buffet, that he avoided his saddle; and so he rode\nby, and thrust forth to the thickest. When the King of Northgalis saw\nSir Ector and Bleoberis lie on the ground then was he wroth, for they\ncame on his party against them of Surluse. So the King of Northgalis\nran to Sir Launcelot, and brake a spear upon him all to pieces.\nTherewith Sir Launcelot overtook the King of Northgalis, and smote him\nsuch a buffet on the helm with his sword that he made him to avoid his\nhorse; and anon the king was horsed again. So both the King Bagdemagus\u2019\nand the King of Northgalis\u2019 party hurled to other; and then began a\nstrong medley, but they of Northgalis were far bigger.\nWhen Sir Launcelot saw his party go to the worst he thrang into the\nthickest press with a sword in his hand; and there he smote down on the\nright hand and on the left hand, and pulled down knights and raced off\ntheir helms, that all men had wonder that ever one knight might do such\ndeeds of arms. When Sir Meliagaunce, that was son unto King Bagdemagus,\nsaw how Sir Launcelot fared he marvelled greatly. And when he\nunderstood that it was he, he wist well that he was disguised for his\nsake. Then Sir Meliagaunce prayed a knight to slay Sir Launcelot\u2019s\nhorse, either with sword or with spear. At that time King Bagdemagus\nmet with a knight that hight Sauseise, a good knight, to whom he said:\nNow fair Sauseise, encounter with my son Meliagaunce and give him large\npayment, for I would he were well beaten of thy hands, that he might\ndepart out of this field. And then Sir Sauseise encountered with Sir\nMeliagaunce, and either smote other down. And then they fought on foot,\nand there Sauseise had won Sir Meliagaunce, had there not come rescues.\nSo then the haut prince blew to lodging, and every knight unarmed him\nand went to the great feast.\nThen in the meanwhile there came a damosel to the haut prince, and\ncomplained that there was a knight that hight Goneries that withheld\nher all her lands. Then the knight was there present, and cast his\nglove to her or to any that would fight in her name. So the damosel\ntook up the glove all heavily for default of a champion. Then there\ncame a varlet to her and said: Damosel, will ye do after me? Full fain,\nsaid the damosel. Then go you unto such a knight that lieth here beside\nin an hermitage, and that followeth the Questing Beast, and pray him to\ntake the battle upon him, and anon I wot well he will grant you.\nSo anon she took her palfrey, and within a while she found that knight,\nthat was Sir Palomides. And when she required him he armed him and rode\nwith her, and made her to go to the haut prince, and to ask leave for\nher knight to do battle. I will well, said the haut prince. Then the\nknights were ready in the field to joust on horseback; and either gat a\nspear in their hands, and met so fiercely together that their spears\nall to-shivered. Then they flang out swords, and Sir Palomides smote\nSir Goneries down to the earth. And then he raced off his helm and\nsmote off his head. Then they went to supper, and the damosel loved\nPalomides as paramour, but the book saith she was of his kin. So then\nPalomides disguised himself in this manner, in his shield he bare the\nQuesting Beast, and in all his trappings. And when he was thus ready,\nhe sent to the haut prince to give him leave to joust with other\nknights, but he was adoubted of Sir Launcelot. The haut prince sent him\nword again that he should be welcome, and that Sir Launcelot should not\njoust with him. Then Sir Galahalt, the haut prince, let cry what knight\nsomever he were that smote down Sir Palomides should have his damosel\nto himself.\nCHAPTER XLII. How Sir Galahalt and Palomides fought together, and of\nSir Dinadan and Sir Galahalt.\nHere beginneth the second day. Anon as Sir Palomides came into the\nfield, Sir Galahalt, the haut prince, was at the range end, and met\nwith Sir Palomides, and he with him, with great spears. And then they\ncame so hard together that their spears all to-shivered, but Sir\nGalahalt smote him so hard that he bare him backward over his horse,\nbut yet he lost not his stirrups. Then they drew their swords and\nlashed together many sad strokes, that many worshipful knights left\ntheir business to behold them. But at the last Sir Galahalt, the haut\nprince, smote a stroke of might unto Palomides, sore upon the helm; but\nthe helm was so hard that the sword might not bite, but slipped and\nsmote off the head of the horse of Sir Palomides. When the haut prince\nwist and saw the good knight fall unto the earth he was ashamed of that\nstroke. And therewith he alighted down off his own horse, and prayed\nthe good knight, Palomides, to take that horse of his gift, and to\nforgive him that deed. Sir, said Palomides, I thank you of your great\ngoodness, for ever of a man of worship a knight shall never have\ndisworship; and so he mounted upon that horse, and the haut prince had\nanother anon. Now, said the haut prince, I release to you that maiden,\nfor ye have won her. Ah, said Palomides, the damosel and I be at your\ncommandment.\nSo they departed, and Sir Galahalt did great deeds of arms. And right\nso came Dinadan and encountered with Sir Galahalt, and either came to\nother so fast with their spears that their spears brake to their hands.\nBut Dinadan had weened the haut prince had been more weary than he was.\nAnd then he smote many sad strokes at the haut prince; but when Dinadan\nsaw he might not get him to the earth he said: My lord, I pray you\nleave me, and take another. The haut prince knew not Dinadan, and left\ngoodly for his fair words. And so they departed; but soon there came\nanother and told the haut prince that it was Dinadan. Forsooth, said\nthe prince, therefore am I heavy that he is so escaped from me, for\nwith his mocks and japes now shall I never have done with him. And then\nGalahalt rode fast after him, and bade him: Abide, Dinadan, for King\nArthur\u2019s sake. Nay, said Dinadan, so God me help, we meet no more\ntogether this day. Then in that wrath the haut prince met with\nMeliagaunce, and he smote him in the throat that an he had fallen his\nneck had broken; and with the same spear he smote down another knight.\nThen came in they of Northgalis and many strangers, and were like to\nhave put them of Surluse to the worse, for Sir Galahalt, the haut\nprince, had ever much in hand. So there came the good knight, Semound\nthe Valiant, with forty knights, and he beat them all aback. Then the\nQueen Guenever and Sir Launcelot let blow to lodging, and every knight\nunarmed him, and dressed him to the feast.\nCHAPTER XLIII. How Sir Archade appealed Sir Palomides of treason, and\nhow Sir Palomides slew him.\nWhen Palomides was unarmed he asked lodging for himself and the\ndamosel. Anon the haut prince commanded them to lodging. And he was not\nso soon in his lodging but there came a knight that hight Archade, he\nwas brother unto Goneries that Palomides slew afore in the damosel\u2019s\nquarrel. And this knight, Archade, called Sir Palomides traitor, and\nappealed him for the death of his brother. By the leave of the haut\nprince, said Palomides, I shall answer thee. When Sir Galahalt\nunderstood their quarrel he bade them go to dinner: And as soon as ye\nhave dined look that either knight be ready in the field. So when they\nhad dined they were armed both, and took their horses, and the queen,\nand the prince, and Sir Launcelot, were set to behold them; and so they\nlet run their horses, and there Sir Palomides bare Archade on his spear\nover his horse\u2019s tail. And then Palomides alighted and drew his sword,\nbut Sir Archade might not arise; and there Sir Palomides raced off his\nhelm, and smote off his head. Then the haut prince and Queen Guenever\nwent unto supper. Then King Bagdemagus sent away his son Meliagaunce\nbecause Sir Launcelot should not meet with him, for he hated Sir\nLauncelot, and that knew he not.\nCHAPTER XLIV. Of the third day, and how Sir Palomides jousted with Sir\nLamorak, and other things.\nNow beginneth the third day of jousting; and at that day King\nBagdemagus made him ready; and there came against him King Marsil, that\nhad in gift an island of Sir Galahalt the haut prince; and this island\nhad the name Pomitain. Then it befell that King Bagdemagus and King\nMarsil of Pomitain met together with spears, and King Marsil had such a\nbuffet that he fell over his horse\u2019s croup. Then came there in a knight\nof King Marsil to revenge his lord, and King Bagdemagus smote him down,\nhorse and man, to the earth. So there came an earl that hight Arrouse,\nand Sir Breuse, and an hundred knights with them of Pomitain, and the\nKing of Northgalis was with them; and all these were against them of\nSurluse. And then there began great battle, and many knights were cast\nunder horses\u2019 feet. And ever King Bagdemagus did best, for he first\nbegan, and ever he held on. Gaheris, Gawaine\u2019s brother, smote ever at\nthe face of King Bagdemagus; and at the last King Bagdemagus hurtled\ndown Gaheris, horse and man.\nThen by adventure Sir Palomides, the good knight, met with Sir Blamore\nde Ganis, Sir Bleoberis\u2019 brother. And either smote other with great\nspears, that both their horses and knights fell to the earth. But Sir\nBlamore had such a fall that he had almost broken his neck, for the\nblood brast out at nose, mouth, and his ears, but at the last he\nrecovered well by good surgeons. Then there came in the Duke Chaleins\nof Clarance; and in his governance there came a knight that hight Elis\nla Noire; and there encountered with him King Bagdemagus, and he smote\nElis that he made him to avoid his saddle. So the Duke Chaleins of\nClarance did there great deeds of arms, and of so late as he came in\nthe third day there was no man did so well except King Bagdemagus and\nSir Palomides, that the prize was given that day to King Bagdemagus.\nAnd then they blew unto lodging, and unarmed them, and went to the\nfeast. Right so came Dinadan, and mocked and japed with King Bagdemagus\nthat all knights laughed at him, for he was a fine japer, and well\nloving all good knights.\nSo anon as they had dined there came a varlet bearing four spears on\nhis back; and he came to Palomides, and said thus: Here is a knight by\nhath sent you the choice of four spears, and requireth you for your\nlady\u2019s sake to take that one half of these spears, and joust with him\nin the field. Tell him, said Palomides, I will not fail him. When Sir\nGalahalt wist of this, he bade Palomides make him ready. So the Queen\nGuenever, the haut prince, and Sir Launcelot, they were set upon\nscaffolds to give the judgment of these two knights. Then Sir Palomides\nand the strange knight ran so eagerly together that their spears brake\nto their hands. Anon withal either of them took a great spear in his\nhand and all to-shivered them in pieces. And then either took a greater\nspear, and then the knight smote down Sir Palomides, horse and man, to\nthe earth. And as he would have passed over him the strange knight\u2019s\nhorse stumbled and fell down upon Palomides. Then they drew their\nswords and lashed together wonderly sore a great while.\nThen the haut prince and Sir Launcelot said they saw never two knights\nfight better than they did; but ever the strange knight doubled his\nstrokes, and put Palomides aback; therewithal the haut prince cried:\nHo: and then they went to lodging. And when they were unarmed they knew\nit was the noble knight Sir Lamorak. When Sir Launcelot knew that it\nwas Sir Lamorak he made much of him, for above all earthly men he loved\nhim best except Sir Tristram. Then Queen Guenever commended him, and so\ndid all other good knights make much of him, except Sir Gawaine\u2019s\nbrethren. Then Queen Guenever said unto Sir Launcelot: Sir, I require\nyou that an ye joust any more, that ye joust with none of the blood of\nmy lord Arthur. So he promised he would not as at that time.\nCHAPTER XLV. Of the fourth day, and of many great feats of arms.\nHere beginneth the fourth day. Then came into the field the King with\nthe Hundred Knights, and all they of Northgalis, and the Duke Chaleins\nof Clarance, and King Marsil of Pomitain, and there came Safere,\nPalomides\u2019 brother, and there he told him tidings of his mother. And\nhis name was called the Earl, and so he appealed him afore King Arthur:\nFor he made war upon our father and mother, and there I slew him in\nplain battle. So they went into the field, and the damosel with them;\nand there came to encounter again them Sir Bleoberis de Ganis, and Sir\nEctor de Maris. Sir Palomides encountered with Sir Bleoberis, and\neither smote other down. And in the same wise did Sir Safere and Sir\nEctor, and the two couples did battle on foot. Then came in Sir\nLamorak, and he encountered with the King with the Hundred Knights, and\nsmote him quite over his horse\u2019s tail. And in the same wise he served\nthe King of Northgalis, and also he smote down King Marsil. And so or\never he stint he smote down with his spear and with his sword thirty\nknights. When Duke Chaleins saw Lamorak do so great prowess he would\nnot meddle with him for shame; and then he charged all his knights in\npain of death that none of you touch him; for it were shame to all good\nknights an that knight were shamed.\nThen the two kings gathered them together, and all they set upon Sir\nLamorak; and he failed them not, but rushed here and there, smiting on\nthe right hand and on the left, and raced off many helms, so that the\nhaut prince and Queen Guenever said they saw never knight do such deeds\nof arms on horseback. Alas, said Launcelot to King Bagdemagus, I will\narm me and help Sir Lamorak. And I will ride with you, said King\nBagdemagus. And when they two were horsed they came to Sir Lamorak that\nstood among thirty knights; and well was him that might reach him a\nbuffet, and ever he smote again mightily. Then came there into the\npress Sir Launcelot, and he threw down Sir Mador de la Porte. And with\nthe truncheon of that spear he threw down many knights. And King\nBagdemagus smote on the left hand and on the right hand marvellously\nwell. And then the three kings fled aback. Therewithal then Sir\nGalahalt let blow to lodging, and all the heralds gave Sir Lamorak the\nprize. And all this while fought Palomides, Sir Bleoberis, Sir Safere,\nSir Ector on foot; never were there four knights evener matched. And\nthen they were departed, and had unto their lodging, and unarmed them,\nand so they went to the great feast.\nBut when Sir Lamorak was come into the court Queen Guenever took him in\nher arms and said: Sir, well have ye done this day. Then came the haut\nprince, and he made of him great joy, and so did Dinadan, for he wept\nfor joy; but the joy that Sir Launcelot made of Sir Lamorak there might\nno man tell. Then they went unto rest, and on the morn the haut prince\nlet blow unto the field.\nCHAPTER XLVI. Of the Fifth day, and how Sir Lamorak behaved him.\nHere beginneth the fifth day. So it befell that Sir Palomides came in\nthe morntide, and proffered to joust thereas King Arthur was in a\ncastle there besides Surluse; and there encountered with him a\nworshipful duke, and there Sir Palomides smote him over his horse\u2019s\ncroup. And this duke was uncle unto King Arthur. Then Sir Elise\u2019s son\nrode unto Palomides, and Palomides served Elise in the same wise. When\nSir Uwaine saw this he was wroth. Then he took his horse and\nencountered with Sir Palomides, and Palomides smote him so hard that he\nwent to the earth, horse and man. And for to make a short tale, he\nsmote down three brethren of Sir Gawaine, that is for to say Mordred,\nGaheris, and Agravaine. O Jesu, said Arthur, this is a great despite of\na Saracen that he shall smite down my blood. And therewithal King\nArthur was wood wroth, and thought to have made him ready to joust.\nThat espied Sir Lamorak, that Arthur and his blood were discomfit; and\nanon he was ready, and asked Palomides if he would any more joust. Why\nshould I not? said Palomides. Then they hurtled together, and brake\ntheir spears, and all to-shivered them, that all the castle rang of\ntheir dints. Then either gat a greater spear in his hand, and they came\nso fiercely together; but Sir Palomides\u2019 spear all to-brast and Sir\nLamorak\u2019s did hold. Therewithal Sir Palomides lost his stirrups and lay\nupright on his horse\u2019s back. And then Sir Palomides returned again and\ntook his damosel, and Sir Safere returned his way.\nSo, when he was departed, King Arthur came to Sir Lamorak and thanked\nhim of his goodness, and prayed him to tell him his name. Sir, said\nLamorak, wit thou well, I owe you my service, but as at this time I\nwill not abide here, for I see of mine enemies many about me. Alas,\nsaid Arthur, now wot I well it is Sir Lamorak de Galis. O Lamorak,\nabide with me, and by my crown I shall never fail thee: and not so\nhardy in Gawaine\u2019s head, nor none of his brethren, to do thee any\nwrong. Sir, said Sir Lamorak, wrong have they done me, and to you both.\nThat is truth, said the king, for they slew their own mother and my\nsister, the which me sore grieveth: it had been much fairer and better\nthat ye had wedded her, for ye are a king\u2019s son as well as they. O\nJesu, said the noble knight Sir Lamorak unto Arthur, her death shall I\nnever forget. I promise you, and make mine avow unto God, I shall\nrevenge her death as soon as I see time convenable. And if it were not\nat the reverence of your highness I should now have been revenged upon\nSir Gawaine and his brethren. Truly, said Arthur, I will make you at\naccord. Sir, said Lamorak, as at this time I may not abide with you,\nfor I must to the jousts, where is Sir Launcelot, and the haut prince\nSir Galahalt.\nThen there was a damosel that was daughter to King Bandes. And there\nwas a Saracen knight that hight Corsabrin, and he loved the damosel,\nand in no wise he would suffer her to be married; for ever this\nCorsabrin noised her, and named her that she was out of her mind; and\nthus he let her that she might not be married.\nCHAPTER XLVII. How Sir Palomides fought with Corsabrin for a lady, and\nhow Palomides slew Corsabrin.\nSo by fortune this damosel heard tell that Palomides did much for\ndamosels\u2019 sake; so she sent to him a pensel, and prayed him to fight\nwith Sir Corsabrin for her love, and he should have her and her lands\nof her father\u2019s that should fall to her. Then the damosel sent unto\nCorsabrin, and bade him go unto Sir Palomides that was a paynim as well\nas he, and she gave him warning that she had sent him her pensel, and\nif he might overcome Palomides she would wed him. When Corsabrin wist\nof her deeds then was he wood wroth and angry, and rode unto Surluse\nwhere the haut prince was, and there he found Sir Palomides ready, the\nwhich had the pensel. So there they waged battle either with other\nafore Galahalt. Well, said the haut prince, this day must noble knights\njoust, and at-after dinner we shall see how ye can speed.\nThen they blew to jousts; and in came Dinadan, and met with Sir Gerin,\na good knight, and he threw him down over his horse\u2019s croup; and Sir\nDinadan overthrew four knights more; and there he did great deeds of\narms, for he was a good knight, but he was a scoffer and a japer, and\nthe merriest knight among fellowship that was that time living. And he\nhad such a custom that he loved every good knight, and every good\nknight loved him again. So then when the haut prince saw Dinadan do so\nwell, he sent unto Sir Launcelot and bade him strike down Sir Dinadan:\nAnd when that ye have done so bring him afore me and the noble Queen\nGuenever. Then Sir Launcelot did as he was required. Then Sir Lamorak\nand he smote down many knights, and raced off helms, and drove all the\nknights afore them. And so Sir Launcelot smote down Sir Dinadan, and\nmade his men to unarm him, and so brought him to the queen and the haut\nprince, and they laughed at Dinadan so sore that they might not stand.\nWell, said Sir Dinadan, yet have I no shame, for the old shrew, Sir\nLauncelot, smote me down. So they went to dinner, [and] all the court\nhad good sport at Dinadan.\nThen when the dinner was done they blew to the field to behold Sir\nPalomides and Corsabrin. Sir Palomides pight his pensel in midst of the\nfield; and then they hurtled together with their spears as it were\nthunder, and either smote other to the earth. And then they pulled out\ntheir swords, and dressed their shields, and lashed together mightily\nas mighty knights, that well-nigh there was no piece of harness would\nhold them, for this Corsabrin was a passing felonious knight.\nCorsabrin, said Palomides, wilt thou release me yonder damosel and the\npensel? Then was Corsabrin wroth out of measure, and gave Palomides\nsuch a buffet that he kneeled on his knee. Then Palomides arose\nlightly, and smote him upon the helm that he fell down right to the\nearth. And therewith he raced off his helm and said: Corsabrin, yield\nthee or else thou shalt die of my hands. Fie on thee, said Corsabrin,\ndo thy worst. Then he smote off his head. And therewithal came a stink\nof his body when the soul departed, that there might nobody abide the\nsavour. So was the corpse had away and buried in a wood, because he was\na paynim. Then they blew unto lodging, and Palomides was unarmed.\nThen he went unto Queen Guenever, to the haut prince, and to Sir\nLauncelot. Sir, said the haut prince, here have ye seen this day a\ngreat miracle by Corsabrin, what savour there was when the soul\ndeparted from the body. Therefore, sir, we will require you to take the\nbaptism upon you, and I promise you all knights will set the more by\nyou, and say more worship by you. Sir, said Palomides, I will that ye\nall know that into this land I came to be christened, and in my heart I\nam christened and christened will I be. But I have made such an avow\nthat I may not be christened till I have done seven true battles for\nJesu\u2019s sake, and then will I be christened; and I trust God will take\nmine intent, for I mean truly. Then Sir Palomides prayed Queen Guenever\nand the haut prince to sup with him. And so they did, both Sir\nLauncelot and Sir Lamorak, and many other good knights. So on the morn\nthey heard their mass, and blew the field, and then knights made them\nready.\nCHAPTER XLVIII. Of the sixth day, and what then was done.\nHere beginneth the sixth day. Then came therein Sir Gaheris, and there\nencountered with him Sir Ossaise of Surluse, and Sir Gaheris smote him\nover his horse\u2019s croup. And then either party encountered with other,\nand there were many spears broken, and many knights cast under feet. So\nthere came in Sir Dornard and Sir Aglovale, that were brethren unto Sir\nLamorak, and they met with other two knights, and either smote other so\nhard that all four knights and horses fell to the earth. When Sir\nLamorak saw his two brethren down he was wroth out of measure, and then\nhe gat a great spear in his hand, and therewithal he smote down four\ngood knights, and then his spear brake. Then he pulled out his sword,\nand smote about him on the right hand and on the left hand, and raced\noff helms and pulled down knights, that all men marvelled of such deeds\nof arms as he did, for he fared so that many knights fled. Then he\nhorsed his brethren again, and said: Brethren, ye ought to be ashamed\nto fall so off your horses! what is a knight but when he is on\nhorseback? I set not by a knight when he is on foot, for all battles on\nfoot are but pillers\u2019 battles. For there should no knight fight on foot\nbut if it were for treason, or else he were driven thereto by force;\ntherefore, brethren, sit fast on your horses, or else fight never more\nafore me.\nWith that came in the Duke Chaleins of Clarance, and there encountered\nwith him the Earl Ulbawes of Surluse, and either of them smote other\ndown. Then the knights of both parties horsed their lords again, for\nSir Ector and Bleoberis were on foot, waiting on the Duke Chaleins. And\nthe King with the Hundred Knights was with the Earl of Ulbawes. With\nthat came Gaheris and lashed to the King with the Hundred Knights, and\nhe to him again. Then came the Duke Chaleins and departed them.\nThen they blew to lodging, and the knights unarmed them and drew them\nto their dinner; and at the midst of their dinner in came Dinadan and\nbegan to rail. Then he beheld the haut prince, that seemed wroth with\nsome fault that he saw; for he had a custom he loved no fish, and\nbecause he was served with fish, the which he hated, therefore he was\nnot merry. When Sir Dinadan had espied the haut prince, he espied where\nwas a fish with a great head, and that he gat betwixt two dishes, and\nserved the haut prince with that fish. And then he said thus: Sir\nGalahalt, well may I liken you to a wolf, for he will never eat fish,\nbut flesh; then the haut prince laughed at his words. Well, well, said\nDinadan to Launcelot, what devil do ye in this country, for here may no\nmean knights win no worship for thee. Sir Dinadan, said Launcelot, I\nensure thee I shall no more meet with thee nor with thy great spear,\nfor I may not sit in my saddle when that spear hitteth me. And if I be\nhappy I shall beware of that boistous body that thou bearest. Well,\nsaid Launcelot, make good watch ever: God forbid that ever we meet but\nif it be at a dish of meat. Then laughed the queen and the haut prince,\nthat they might not sit at their table; thus they made great joy till\non the morn, and then they heard mass, and blew to field. And Queen\nGuenever and all the estates were set, and judges armed clean with\ntheir shields to keep the right.\nCHAPTER XLIX. Of the seventh battle, and how Sir Launcelot, being\ndisguised like a maid, smote down Sir Dinadan.\nNow beginneth the seventh battle. There came in the Duke Cambines, and\nthere encountered with him Sir Aristance, that was counted a good\nknight, and they met so hard that either bare other down, horse and\nman. Then came there the Earl of Lambaile and helped the duke again to\nhorse. Then came there Sir Ossaise of Surluse, and he smote the Earl\nLambaile down from his horse. Then began they to do great deeds of\narms, and many spears were broken, and many knights were cast to the\nearth. Then the King of Northgalis and the Earl Ulbawes smote together\nthat all the judges thought it was like mortal death. This meanwhile\nQueen Guenever, and the haut prince, and Sir Launcelot, made there Sir\nDinadan make him ready to joust. I would, said Dinadan, ride into the\nfield, but then one of you twain will meet with me. Per dieu, said the\nhaut prince, ye may see how we sit here as judges with our shields, and\nalways mayest thou behold whether we sit here or not.\nSo Sir Dinadan departed and took his horse, and met with many knights,\nand did passing well. And as he was departed, Sir Launcelot disguised\nhimself, and put upon his armour a maiden\u2019s garment freshly attired.\nThen Sir Launcelot made Sir Galihodin to lead him through the range,\nand all men had wonder what damosel it was. And so as Sir Dinadan came\ninto the range, Sir Launcelot, that was in the damosel\u2019s array, gat\nGalihodin\u2019s spear, and ran unto Sir Dinadan. And always Sir Dinadan\nlooked up thereas Sir Launcelot was, and then he saw one sit in the\nstead of Sir Launcelot, armed. But when Dinadan saw a manner of a\ndamosel he dread perils that it was Sir Launcelot disguised, but Sir\nLauncelot came on him so fast that he smote him over his horse\u2019s croup;\nand then with great scorns they gat Sir Dinadan into the forest there\nbeside, and there they dispoiled him unto his shirt, and put upon him a\nwoman\u2019s garment, and so brought him into the field: and so they blew\nunto lodging. And every knight went and unarmed them. Then was Sir\nDinadan brought in among them all. And when Queen Guenever saw Sir\nDinadan brought so among them all, then she laughed that she fell down,\nand so did all that there were. Well, said Dinadan to Launcelot, thou\nart so false that I can never beware of thee. Then by all the assent\nthey gave Sir Launcelot the prize, the next was Sir Lamorak de Galis,\nthe third was Sir Palomides, the fourth was King Bagdemagus; so these\nfour knights had the prize, and there was great joy, and great nobley\nin all the court.\nAnd on the morn Queen Guenever and Sir Launcelot departed unto King\nArthur, but in no wise Sir Lamorak would not go with them. I shall\nundertake, said Sir Launcelot, that an ye will go with us King Arthur\nshall charge Sir Gawaine and his brethren never to do you hurt. As for\nthat, said Sir Lamorak, I will not trust Sir Gawaine nor none of his\nbrethren; and wit ye well, Sir Launcelot, an it were not for my lord\nKing Arthur\u2019s sake, I should match Sir Gawaine and his brethren well\nenough. But to say that I should trust them, that shall I never, and\ntherefore I pray you recommend me unto my lord Arthur, and unto all my\nlords of the Round Table. And in what place that ever I come I shall do\nyou service to my power: and sir, it is but late that I revenged that,\nwhen my lord Arthur\u2019s kin were put to the worse by Sir Palomides. Then\nSir Lamorak departed from Sir Launcelot, and either wept at their\ndeparting.\nCHAPTER L. How by treason Sir Tristram was brought to a tournament for\nto have been slain, and how he was put in prison.\nNow turn we from this matter, and speak we of Sir Tristram, of whom\nthis book is principally of, and leave we the king and the queen, Sir\nLauncelot, and Sir Lamorak, and here beginneth the treason of King\nMark, that he ordained against Sir Tristram. There was cried by the\ncoasts of Cornwall a great tournament and jousts, and all was done by\nSir Galahalt the haut prince and King Bagdemagus, to the intent to slay\nLauncelot, or else utterly destroy him and shame him, because Sir\nLauncelot had always the higher degree, therefore this prince and this\nking made this jousts against Sir Launcelot. And thus their counsel was\ndiscovered unto King Mark, whereof he was full glad.\nThen King Mark bethought him that he would have Sir Tristram unto that\ntournament disguised that no man should know him, to that intent that\nthe haut prince should ween that Sir Tristram were Sir Launcelot. So at\nthese jousts came in Sir Tristram. And at that time Sir Launcelot was\nnot there, but when they saw a knight disguised do such deeds of arms,\nthey weened it had been Sir Launcelot. And in especial King Mark said\nit was Sir Launcelot plainly. Then they set upon him, both King\nBagdemagus, and the haut prince, and their knights, that it was wonder\nthat ever Sir Tristram might endure that pain. Notwithstanding for all\nthe pain that he had, Sir Tristram won the degree at that tournament,\nand there he hurt many knights and bruised them, and they hurt him and\nbruised him wonderly sore. So when the jousts were all done they knew\nwell that it was Sir Tristram de Liones; and all that were on King\nMark\u2019s party were glad that Sir Tristram was hurt, and the remnant were\nsorry of his hurt; for Sir Tristram was not so behated as was Sir\nLauncelot within the realm of England.\nThen came King Mark unto Sir Tristram and said: Fair nephew, I am sorry\nof your hurts. Gramercy my lord, said Sir Tristram. Then King Mark made\nSir Tristram to be put in an horse bier in great sign of love, and\nsaid: Fair cousin, I shall be your leech myself. And so he rode forth\nwith Sir Tristram, and brought him to a castle by daylight. And then\nKing Mark made Sir Tristram to eat. And then after he gave him a drink,\nthe which as soon as he had drunk he fell asleep. And when it was night\nhe made him to be carried to another castle, and there he put him in a\nstrong prison, and there he ordained a man and a woman to give him his\nmeat and drink. So there he was a great while.\nThen was Sir Tristram missed, and no creature wist where he was become.\nWhen La Beale Isoud heard how he was missed, privily she went unto Sir\nSadok, and prayed him to espy where was Sir Tristram. Then when Sadok\nwist how Sir Tristram was missed, and anon espied that he was put in\nprison by King Mark and the traitors of Magouns, then Sadok and two of\nhis cousins laid them in an ambushment, fast by the Castle of Tintagil,\nin arms. And as by fortune, there came riding King Mark and four of his\nnephews, and a certain of the traitors of Magouns. When Sir Sadok\nespied them he brake out of the bushment, and set there upon them. And\nwhen King Mark espied Sir Sadok he fled as fast as he might, and there\nSir Sadok slew all the four nephews unto King Mark. But these traitors\nof Magouns slew one of Sadok\u2019s cousins with a great wound in the neck,\nbut Sadok smote the other to the death. Then Sir Sadok rode upon his\nway unto a castle that was called Liones, and there he espied of the\ntreason and felony of King Mark. So they of that castle rode with Sir\nSadok till that they came to a castle that hight Arbray, and there in\nthe town they found Sir Dinas the Seneschal, that was a good knight.\nBut when Sir Sadok had told Sir Dinas of all the treason of King Mark\nhe defied such a king, and said he would give up his lands that he held\nof him. And when he said these words all manner knights said as Sir\nDinas said. Then by his advice and of Sir Sadok\u2019s, he let stuff all the\ntowns and castles within the country of Liones, and assembled all the\npeople that they might make.\nCHAPTER LI. How King Mark let do counterfeit letters from the Pope, and\nhow Sir Percivale delivered Sir Tristram out of prison.\nNow turn we unto King Mark, that when he was escaped from Sir Sadok he\nrode unto the Castle of Tintagil, and there he made great cry and\nnoise, and cried unto harness all that might bear arms. Then they\nsought and found where were dead four cousins of King Mark\u2019s, and the\ntraitor of Magouns. Then the king let inter them in a chapel. Then the\nking let cry in all the country that held of him, to go unto arms, for\nhe understood to the war he must needs. When King Mark heard and\nunderstood how Sir Sadok and Sir Dinas were arisen in the country of\nLiones he remembered of wiles and treason. Lo thus he did: he let make\nand counterfeit letters from the Pope, and did make a strange clerk to\nbear them unto King Mark; the which letters specified that King Mark\nshould make him ready, upon pain of cursing, with his host to come to\nthe Pope, to help to go to Jerusalem, for to make war upon the\nSaracens.\nWhen this clerk was come by the mean of the king, anon withal King Mark\nsent these letters unto Sir Tristram and bade him say thus: that an he\nwould go war upon the miscreants, he should be had out of prison, and\nto have all his power. When Sir Tristram understood this letter, then\nhe said thus to the clerk: Ah, King Mark, ever hast thou been a\ntraitor, and ever will be; but, Clerk, said Sir Tristram, say thou thus\nunto King Mark: Since the Apostle Pope hath sent for him, bid him go\nthither himself; for tell him, traitor king as he is, I will not go at\nhis commandment, get I out of prison as I may, for I see I am well\nrewarded for my true service. Then the clerk returned unto King Mark,\nand told him of the answer of Sir Tristram. Well, said King Mark, yet\nshall he be beguiled. So he went into his chamber, and counterfeit\nletters; and the letters specified that the Pope desired Sir Tristram\nto come himself, to make war upon the miscreants. When the clerk was\ncome again to Sir Tristram and took him these letters, then Sir\nTristram beheld these letters, and anon espied they were of King Mark\u2019s\ncounterfeiting. Ah, said Sir Tristram, false hast thou been ever, King\nMark, and so wilt thou end. Then the clerk departed from Sir Tristram\nand came to King Mark again.\nBy then there were come four wounded knights within the Castle of\nTintagil, and one of them his neck was nigh broken in twain. Another\nhad his arm stricken away, the third was borne through with a spear,\nthe fourth had his teeth stricken in twain. And when they came afore\nKing Mark they cried and said: King, why fleest thou not, for all this\ncountry is arisen clearly against thee? Then was King Mark wroth out of\nmeasure.\nAnd in the meanwhile there came into the country Sir Percivale de Galis\nto seek Sir Tristram. And when he heard that Sir Tristram was in\nprison, Sir Percivale made clearly the deliverance of Sir Tristram by\nhis knightly means. And when he was so delivered he made great joy of\nSir Percivale, and so each one of other. Sir Tristram said unto Sir\nPercivale: An ye will abide in these marches I will ride with you. Nay,\nsaid Percivale, in this country I may not tarry, for I must needs into\nWales. So Sir Percivale departed from Sir Tristram, and rode straight\nunto King Mark, and told him how he had delivered Sir Tristram; and\nalso he told the king that he had done himself great shame for to put\nSir Tristram in prison, for he is now the knight of most renown in this\nworld living. And wit thou well the noblest knights of the world love\nSir Tristram, and if he will make war upon you ye may not abide it.\nThat is truth, said King Mark, but I may not love Sir Tristram because\nhe loveth my queen and my wife, La Beale Isoud. Ah, fie for shame, said\nSir Percivale, say ye never so more. Are ye not uncle unto Sir\nTristram, and he your nephew? Ye should never think that so noble a\nknight as Sir Tristram is, that he would do himself so great a villainy\nto hold his uncle\u2019s wife; howbeit, said Sir Percivale, he may love your\nqueen sinless, because she is called one of the fairest ladies of the\nworld.\nThen Sir Percivale departed from King Mark. So when he was departed\nKing Mark bethought him of more treason: notwithstanding King Mark\ngranted Sir Percivale never by no manner of means to hurt Sir Tristram.\nSo anon King Mark sent unto Sir Dinas the Seneschal that he should put\ndown all the people that he had raised, for he sent him an oath that he\nwould go himself unto the Pope of Rome to war upon the miscreants; and\nthis is a fairer war than thus to arise the people against your king.\nWhen Sir Dinas understood that King Mark would go upon the miscreants,\nthen Sir Dinas in all the haste put down all the people; and when the\npeople were departed every man to his home, then King Mark espied where\nwas Sir Tristram with La Beale Isoud; and there by treason King Mark\nlet take him and put him in prison, contrary to his promise that he\nmade unto Sir Percivale.\nWhen Queen Isoud understood that Sir Tristram was in prison she made as\ngreat sorrow as ever made lady or gentlewoman. Then Sir Tristram sent a\nletter unto La Beale Isoud, and prayed her to be his good lady; and if\nit pleased her to make a vessel ready for her and him, he would go with\nher unto the realm of Logris, that is this land. When La Beale Isoud\nunderstood Sir Tristram\u2019s letters and his intent, she sent him another,\nand bade him be of good comfort, for she would do make the vessel\nready, and all thing to purpose.\nThen La Beale Isoud sent unto Sir Dinas, and to Sadok, and prayed them\nin anywise to take King Mark, and put him in prison, unto the time that\nshe and Sir Tristram were departed unto the realm of Logris. When Sir\nDinas the Seneschal understood the treason of King Mark he promised her\nagain, and sent her word that King Mark should be put in prison. And as\nthey devised it so it was done. And then Sir Tristram was delivered out\nof prison; and anon in all the haste Queen Isoud and Sir Tristram went\nand took their counsel with that they would have with them when they\ndeparted.\nCHAPTER LII. How Sir Tristram and La Beale Isoud came unto England, and\nhow Sir Launcelot brought them to Joyous Gard.\nThen La Beale Isoud and Sir Tristram took their vessel, and came by\nwater into this land. And so they were not in this land four days but\nthere came a cry of a jousts and tournament that King Arthur let make.\nWhen Sir Tristram heard tell of that tournament he disguised himself,\nand La Beale Isoud, and rode unto that tournament. And when he came\nthere he saw many knights joust and tourney; and so Sir Tristram\ndressed him to the range, and to make short conclusion, he overthrew\nfourteen knights of the Round Table. When Sir Launcelot saw these\nknights thus overthrown, Sir Launcelot dressed him to Sir Tristram.\nThat saw La Beale Isoud how Sir Launcelot was come into the field. Then\nLa Beale Isoud sent unto Sir Launcelot a ring, and bade him wit that it\nwas Sir Tristram de Liones. When Sir Launcelot under stood that there\nwas Sir Tristram he was full glad, and would not joust. Then Sir\nLauncelot espied whither Sir Tristram yede, and after him he rode; and\nthen either made of other great joy. And so Sir Launcelot brought Sir\nTristram and La Beale Isoud unto Joyous Gard, that was his own castle,\nthat he had won with his own hands. And there Sir Launcelot put them in\nto wield for their own. And wit ye well that castle was garnished and\nfurnished for a king and a queen royal there to have sojourned. And Sir\nLauncelot charged all his people to honour them and love them as they\nwould do himself.\nSo Sir Launcelot departed unto King Arthur; and then he told Queen\nGuenever how he that jousted so well at the last tournament was Sir\nTristram. And there he told her how he had with him La Beale Isoud\nmaugre King Mark, and so Queen Guenever told all this unto King Arthur.\nWhen King Arthur wist that Sir Tristram was escaped and come from King\nMark, and had brought La Beale Isoud with him, then was he passing\nglad. So because of Sir Tristram King Arthur let make a cry, that on\nMay Day should be a jousts before the castle of Lonazep; and that\ncastle was fast by Joyous Gard. And thus Arthur devised, that all the\nknights of this land, and of Cornwall, and of North Wales, should joust\nagainst all these countries, Ireland, Scotland, and the remnant of\nWales, and the country of Gore, and Surluse, and of Listinoise, and\nthey of Northumberland, and all they that held lands of Arthur on this\nhalf the sea. When this cry was made many knights were glad and many\nwere unglad. Sir, said Launcelot unto Arthur, by this cry that ye have\nmade ye will put us that be about you in great jeopardy, for there be\nmany knights that have great envy to us; therefore when we shall meet\nat the day of jousts there will be hard shift among us. As for that,\nsaid Arthur, I care not; there shall we prove who shall be best of his\nhands. So when Sir Launcelot understood wherefore King Arthur made this\njousting, then he made such purveyance that La Beale Isoud should\nbehold the jousts in a secret place that was honest for her estate.\nNow turn we unto Sir Tristram and to La Beale Isoud, how they made\ngreat joy daily together with all manner of mirths that they could\ndevise; and every day Sir Tristram would go ride a-hunting, for Sir\nTristram was that time called the best chaser of the world, and the\nnoblest blower of an horn of all manner of measures; for as books\nreport, of Sir Tristram came all the good terms of venery and hunting,\nand all the sizes and measures of blowing of an horn; and of him we had\nfirst all the terms of hawking, and which were beasts of chase and\nbeasts of venery, and which were vermins, and all the blasts that long\nto all manner of games. First to the uncoupling, to the seeking, to the\nrechate, to the flight, to the death, and to strake, and many other\nblasts and terms, that all manner of gentlemen have cause to the\nworld\u2019s end to praise Sir Tristram, and to pray for his soul.\nCHAPTER LIII. How by the counsel of La Beale Isoud Sir Tristram rode\narmed, and how he met with Sir Palomides.\nSo on a day La Beale Isoud said unto Sir Tristram: I marvel me much,\nsaid she, that ye remember not yourself, how ye be here in a strange\ncountry, and here be many perilous knights; and well ye wot that King\nMark is full of treason; and that ye will ride thus to chase and to\nhunt unarmed ye might be destroyed. My fair lady and my love, I cry you\nmercy, I will no more do so. So then Sir Tristram rode daily a-hunting\narmed, and his men bearing his shield and his spear. So on a day a\nlittle afore the month of May, Sir Tristram chased an hart passing\neagerly, and so the hart passed by a fair well. And then Sir Tristram\nalighted and put off his helm to drink of that bubbly water. Right so\nhe heard and saw the Questing Beast come to the well. When Sir Tristram\nsaw that beast he put on his helm, for he deemed he should hear of Sir\nPalomides, for that beast was his quest. Right so Sir Tristram saw\nwhere came a knight armed, upon a noble courser, and he saluted him,\nand they spake of many things; and this knight\u2019s name was Breuse Saunce\nPit\u00e9. And right so withal there came unto them the noble knight Sir\nPalomides, and either saluted other, and spake fair to other.\nFair knights, said Sir Palomides, I can tell you tidings. What is that?\nsaid those knights. Sirs, wit ye well that King Mark is put in prison\nby his own knights, and all was for love of Sir Tristram; for King Mark\nhad put Sir Tristram twice in prison, and once Sir Percivale delivered\nthe noble knight Sir Tristram out of prison. And at the last time Queen\nLa Beale Isoud delivered him, and went clearly away with him into this\nrealm; and all this while King Mark, the false traitor, is in prison.\nIs this truth? said Palomides; then shall we hastily hear of Sir\nTristram. And as for to say that I love La Beale Isoud paramours, I\ndare make good that I do, and that she hath my service above all other\nladies, and shall have the term of my life.\nAnd right so as they stood talking they saw afore them where came a\nknight all armed, on a great horse, and one of his men bare his shield,\nand the other his spear. And anon as that knight espied them he gat his\nshield and his spear and dressed him to joust. Fair fellows, said Sir\nTristram, yonder is a knight will joust with us, let see which of us\nshall encounter with him, for I see well he is of the court of King\nArthur. It shall not be long or he be met withal, said Sir Palomides,\nfor I found never no knight in my quest of this glasting beast, but an\nhe would joust I never refused him. As well may I, said Breuse Saunce\nPit\u00e9, follow that beast as ye. Then shall ye do battle with me, said\nPalomides.\nSo Sir Palomides dressed him unto that other knight, Sir Bleoberis,\nthat was a full noble knight, nigh kin unto Sir Launcelot. And so they\nmet so hard that Sir Palomides fell to the earth, horse and all. Then\nSir Bleoberis cried aloud and said thus: Make thee ready thou false\ntraitor knight, Breuse Saunce Pit\u00e9, for wit thou certainly I will have\nado with thee to the utterance for the noble knights and ladies that\nthou hast falsely betrayed. When this false knight and traitor, Breuse\nSaunce Pit\u00e9, heard him say so, he took his horse by the bridle and fled\nhis way as fast as ever his horse might run, for sore he was of him\nafeard. When Sir Bleoberis saw him flee he followed fast after, through\nthick and through thin. And by fortune as Sir Breuse fled, he saw even\nafore him three knights of the Table Round, of the which the one hight\nSir Ector de Maris, the other hight Sir Percivale de Galis, the third\nhight Sir Harry le Fise Lake, a good knight and an hardy. And as for\nSir Percivale, he was called that time of his time one of the best\nknights of the world, and the best assured. When Breuse saw these\nknights he rode straight unto them, and cried unto them and prayed them\nof rescues. What need have ye? said Sir Ector. Ah, fair knights, said\nSir Breuse, here followeth me the most traitor knight, and most coward,\nand most of villainy; his name is Breuse Saunce Pit\u00e9, and if he may get\nme he will slay me without mercy and pity. Abide with us, said Sir\nPercivale, and we shall warrant you.\nThen were they ware of Sir Bleoberis that came riding all that he\nmight. Then Sir Ector put himself forth to joust afore them all. When\nSir Bleoberis saw that they were four knights and he but himself, he\nstood in a doubt whether he would turn or hold his way. Then he said to\nhimself: I am a knight of the Table Round, and rather than I should\nshame mine oath and my blood I will hold my way whatsoever fall\nthereof. And then Sir Ector dressed his spear, and smote either other\npassing sore, but Sir Ector fell to the earth. That saw Sir Percivale,\nand he dressed his horse toward him all that he might drive, but Sir\nPercivale had such a stroke that horse and man fell to the earth. When\nSir Harry saw that they were both to the earth then he said to himself:\nNever was Breuse of such prowess. So Sir Harry dressed his horse, and\nthey met together so strongly that both the horses and knights fell to\nthe earth, but Sir Bleoberis\u2019 horse began to recover again. That saw\nBreuse and he came hurtling, and smote him over and over, and would\nhave slain him as he lay on the ground. Then Sir Harry le Fise Lake\narose lightly, and took the bridle of Sir Breuse\u2019s horse, and said: Fie\nfor shame! strike never a knight when he is at the earth, for this\nknight may be called no shameful knight of his deeds, for yet as men\nmay see thereas he lieth on the ground he hath done worshipfully, and\nput to the worse passing good knights. Therefore will I not let, said\nSir Breuse. Thou shalt not choose, said Sir Harry, as at this time.\nThen when Sir Breuse saw that he might not choose nor have his will he\nspake fair. Then Sir Harry let him go. And then anon he made his horse\nto run over Sir Bleoberis, and rashed him to the earth like if he would\nhave slain him. When Sir Harry saw him do so villainously he cried:\nTraitor knight, leave off for shame. And as Sir Harry would have taken\nhis horse to fight with Sir Breuse, then Sir Breuse ran upon him as he\nwas half upon his horse, and smote him down, horse and man, to the\nearth, and had near slain Sir Harry, the good knight. That saw Sir\nPercivale, and then he cried: Traitor knight what dost thou? And when\nSir Percivale was upon his horse Sir Breuse took his horse and fled all\nthat ever he might, and Sir Percivale and Sir Harry followed after him\nfast, but ever the longer they chased the farther were they behind.\nThen they turned again and came to Sir Ector de Maris and to Sir\nBleoberis. Ah, fair knights, said Bleoberis, why have ye succoured that\nfalse knight and traitor? Why said Sir Harry, what knight is he? for\nwell I wot it is a false knight, said Sir Harry, and a coward and a\nfelonious knight. Sir, said Bleoberis, he is the most coward knight,\nand a devourer of ladies and a destroyer of good knights and especially\nof Arthur\u2019s. What is your name? said Sir Ector. My name is Sir\nBleoberis de Ganis. Alas, fair cousin, said Ector, forgive it me, for I\nam Sir Ector de Maris. Then Sir Percivale and Sir Harry made great joy\nthat they met with Bleoberis, but all they were heavy that Sir Breuse\nwas escaped them, whereof they made great dole.\nCHAPTER LIV. Of Sir Palomides, and how he met with Sir Bleoberis and\nwith Sir Ector, and of Sir Pervivale.\nRight so as they stood thus there came Sir Palomides, and when he saw\nthe shield of Bleoberis lie on the earth, then said Palomides: He that\noweth that shield let him dress him to me, for he smote me down here\nfast by at a fountain, and therefore I will fight for him on foot. I am\nready, said Bleoberis, here to answer thee, for wit thou well, sir\nknight, it was I, and my name is Bleoberis de Ganis. Well art thou met,\nsaid Palomides, and wit thou well my name is Palomides the Saracen; and\neither of them hated other to the death. Sir Palomides, said Ector, wit\nthou well there is neither thou nor none knight that beareth the life\nthat slayeth any of our blood but he shall die for it; therefore an\nthou list to fight go seek Sir Launcelot or Sir Tristram, and there\nshall ye find your match. With them have I met, said Palomides, but I\nhad never no worship of them. Was there never no manner of knight, said\nSir Ector, but they that ever matched with you? Yes, said Palomides,\nthere was the third, a good knight as any of them, and of his age he\nwas the best that ever I found; for an he might have lived till he had\nbeen an hardier man there liveth no knight now such, and his name was\nSir Lamorak de Galis. And as he had jousted at a tournament there he\noverthrew me and thirty knights more, and there he won the degree. And\nat his departing there met him Sir Gawaine and his brethren, and with\ngreat pain they slew him feloniously, unto all good knights\u2019 great\ndamage. Anon as Sir Percivale heard that his brother was dead, Sir\nLamorak, he fell over his horse\u2019s mane swooning, and there he made the\ngreatest dole that ever made knight. And when Sir Percivale arose he\nsaid: Alas, my good and noble brother Sir Lamorak, now shall we never\nmeet, and I trow in all the wide world a man may not find such a knight\nas he was of his age; and it is too much to suffer the death of our\nfather King Pellinore, and now the death of our good brother Sir\nLamorak.\nThen in the meanwhile there came a varlet from the court of King\nArthur, and told them of the great tournament that should be at\nLonazep, and how these lands, Cornwall and Northgalis, should be\nagainst all them that would come.\nCHAPTER LV. How Sir Tristram met with Sir Dinadan, and of their\ndevices, and what he said to Sir Gawaine\u2019s brethren.\nNow turn we unto Sir Tristram, that as he rode a-hunting he met with\nSir Dinadan, that was come into that country to seek Sir Tristram. Then\nSir Dinadan told Sir Tristram his name, but Sir Tristram would not tell\nhim his name, wherefore Sir Dinadan was wroth. For such a foolish\nknight as ye are, said Sir Dinadan, I saw but late this day lying by a\nwell, and he fared as he slept; and there he lay like a fool grinning,\nand would not speak, and his shield lay by him, and his horse stood by\nhim; and well I wot he was a lover. Ah, fair sir, said Sir Tristram are\nye not a lover? Mary, fie on that craft! said Sir Dinadan. That is evil\nsaid, said Sir Tristram, for a knight may never be of prowess but if he\nbe a lover. It is well said, said Sir Dinadan; now tell me your name,\nsith ye be a lover, or else I shall do battle with you. As for that,\nsaid Sir Tristram, it is no reason to fight with me but I tell you my\nname; and as for that my name shall ye not wit as at this time. Fie for\nshame, said Dinadan, art thou a knight and durst not tell thy name to\nme? therefore I will fight with thee. As for that, said Sir Tristram, I\nwill be advised, for I will not do battle but if me list. And if I do\nbattle, said Sir Tristram, ye are not able to withstand me. Fie on\nthee, coward, said Sir Dinadan.\nAnd thus as they hoved still, they saw a knight come riding against\nthem. Lo, said Sir Tristram, see where cometh a knight riding will\njoust with you. Anon, as Sir Dinadan beheld him he said: That is the\nsame doted knight that I saw lie by the well, neither sleeping nor\nwaking. Well, said Sir Tristram, I know that knight well with the\ncovered shield of azure, he is the king\u2019s son of Northumberland, his\nname is Epinegris; and he is as great a lover as I know, and he loveth\nthe king\u2019s daughter of Wales, a full fair lady. And now I suppose, said\nSir Tristram, an ye require him he will joust with you, and then shall\nye prove whether a lover be a better knight, or ye that will not love\nno lady. Well, said Dinadan, now shalt thou see what I shall do.\nTherewithal Sir Dinadan spake on high and said: Sir knight, make thee\nready to joust with me, for it is the custom of errant knights one to\njoust with other. Sir, said Epinegris, is that the rule of you errant\nknights for to make a knight to joust, will he or nill? As for that,\nsaid Dinadan, make thee ready, for here is for me. And therewithal they\nspurred their horses and met together so hard that Epinegris smote down\nSir Dinadan. Then Sir Tristram rode to Sir Dinadan and said: How now,\nmeseemeth the lover hath well sped. Fie on thee, coward, said Sir\nDinadan, and if thou be a good knight revenge me. Nay, said Sir\nTristram, I will not joust as at this time, but take your horse and let\nus go hence. God defend me, said Sir Dinadan, from thy fellowship, for\nI never sped well since I met with thee: and so they departed. Well,\nsaid Sir Tristram, peradventure I could tell you tidings of Sir\nTristram. God defend me, said Dinadan, from thy fellowship, for Sir\nTristram were mickle the worse an he were in thy company; and then they\ndeparted. Sir, said Sir Tristram, yet it may happen I shall meet with\nyou in other places.\nSo rode Sir Tristram unto Joyous Gard, and there he heard in that town\ngreat noise and cry. What is this noise? said Sir Tristram. Sir, said\nthey, here is a knight of this castle that hath been long among us, and\nright now he is slain with two knights, and for none other cause but\nthat our knight said that Sir Launcelot were a better knight than Sir\nGawaine. That was a simple cause, said Sir Tristram, for to slay a good\nknight for to say well by his master. That is little remedy to us, said\nthe men of the town. For an Sir Launcelot had been here soon we should\nhave been revenged upon the false knights.\nWhen Sir Tristram heard them say so he sent for his shield and for his\nspear, and lightly within a while he had overtaken them, and bade them\nturn and amend that they had misdone. What amends wouldst thou have?\nsaid the one knight. And therewith they took their course, and either\nmet other so hard that Sir Tristram smote down that knight over his\nhorse\u2019s tail. Then the other knight dressed him to Sir Tristram, and in\nthe same wise he served the other knight. And then they gat off their\nhorses as well as they might, and dressed their shields and swords to\ndo their battle to the utterance. Knights, said Sir Tristram, ye shall\ntell me of whence ye are, and what be your names, for such men ye might\nbe ye should hard escape my hands; and ye might be such men of such a\ncountry that for all your evil deeds ye should pass quit. Wit thou\nwell, sir knight, said they, we fear not to tell thee our names, for my\nname is Sir Agravaine, and my name is Gaheris, brethren unto the good\nknight Sir Gawaine, and we be nephews unto King Arthur. Well, said Sir\nTristram, for King Arthur\u2019s sake I shall let you pass as at this time.\nBut it is shame, said Sir Tristram, that Sir Gawaine and ye be come of\nso great a blood that ye four brethren are so named as ye be, for ye be\ncalled the greatest destroyers and murderers of good knights that be\nnow in this realm; for it is but as I heard say that Sir Gawaine and ye\nslew among you a better knight than ever ye were, that was the noble\nknight Sir Lamorak de Galis. An it had pleased God, said Sir Tristram,\nI would I had been by Sir Lamorak at his death. Then shouldst thou have\ngone the same way, said Sir Gaheris. Fair knight, said Sir Tristram,\nthere must have been many more knights than ye are. And therewithal Sir\nTristram departed from them toward Joyous Gard. And when he was\ndeparted they took their horses, and the one said to the other: We will\novertake him and be revenged upon him in the despite of Sir Lamorak.\nCHAPTER LVI. How Sir Tristram smote down Sir Agravaine and Sir Gaheris,\nand how Sir Dinadan was sent for by La Beale Isoud.\nSo when they had overtaken Sir Tristram, Sir Agravaine bade him: Turn,\ntraitor knight. That is evil said, said Sir Tristram; and therewith he\npulled out his sword, and smote Sir Agravaine such a buffet upon the\nhelm that he tumbled down off his horse in a swoon, and he had a\ngrievous wound. And then he turned to Gaheris, and Sir Tristram smote\nhis sword and his helm together with such a might that Gaheris fell out\nof his saddle: and so Sir Tristram rode unto Joyous Gard, and there he\nalighted and unarmed him. So Sir Tristram told La Beale Isoud of all\nhis adventure, as ye have heard to-fore. And when she heard him tell of\nSir Dinadan: Sir, said she, is not that he that made the song by King\nMark? That same is he, said Sir Tristram, for he is the best bourder\nand japer, and a noble knight of his hands, and the best fellow that I\nknow, and all good knights love his fellowship. Alas, sir, said she,\nwhy brought ye not him with you? Have ye no care, said Sir Tristram,\nfor he rideth to seek me in this country; and therefore he will not\naway till he have met with me. And there Sir Tristram told La Beale\nIsoud how Sir Dinadan held against all lovers. Right so there came in a\nvarlet and told Sir Tristram how there was come an errant knight into\nthe town, with such colours upon his shield. That is Sir Dinadan, said\nSir Tristram; wit ye what ye shall do, said Sir Tristram: send ye for\nhim, my Lady Isoud, and I will not be seen, and ye shall hear the\nmerriest knight that ever ye spake withal, and the maddest talker; and\nI pray you heartily that ye make him good cheer.\nThen anon La Beale Isoud sent into the town, and prayed Sir Dinadan\nthat he would come into the castle and repose him there with a lady.\nWith a good will, said Sir Dinadan; and so he mounted upon his horse\nand rode into the castle; and there he alighted, and was unarmed, and\nbrought into the castle. Anon La Beale Isoud came unto him, and either\nsaluted other; then she asked him of whence that he was. Madam, said\nDinadan, I am of the court of King Arthur, and knight of the Table\nRound, and my name is Sir Dinadan. What do ye in this country? said La\nBeale Isoud. Madam, said he, I seek Sir Tristram the good knight, for\nit was told me that he was in this country. It may well be, said La\nBeale Isoud, but I am not ware of him. Madam, said Dinadan, I marvel of\nSir Tristram and mo other lovers, what aileth them to be so mad and so\nsotted upon women. Why, said La Beale Isoud, are ye a knight and be no\nlover? it is shame to you: wherefore ye may not be called a good knight\n[but] if ye make a quarrel for a lady. God defend me, said Dinadan, for\nthe joy of love is too short, and the sorrow thereof, and what cometh\nthereof, dureth over long. Ah, said La Beale Isoud, say ye not so, for\nhere fast by was the good knight Sir Bleoberis, that fought with three\nknights at once for a damosel\u2019s sake, and he won her afore the King of\nNorthumberland. It was so, said Sir Dinadan, for I know him well for a\ngood knight and a noble, and come of noble blood; for all be noble\nknights of whom he is come of, that is Sir Launcelot du Lake.\nNow I pray you, said La Beale Isoud, tell me will you fight for my love\nwith three knights that do me great wrong? and insomuch as ye be a\nknight of King Arthur\u2019s I require you to do battle for me. Then Sir\nDinadan said: I shall say you ye be as fair a lady as ever I saw any,\nand much fairer than is my lady Queen Guenever, but wit ye well at one\nword, I will not fight for you with three knights, Jesu defend me. Then\nIsoud laughed, and had good game at him. So he had all the cheer that\nshe might make him, and there he lay all that night. And on the morn\nearly Sir Tristram armed him, and La Beale Isoud gave him a good helm;\nand then he promised her that he would meet with Sir Dinadan, and they\ntwo would ride together into Lonazep, where the tournament should be:\nAnd there shall I make ready for you where ye shall see the tournament.\nThen departed Sir Tristram with two squires that bare his shield and\nhis spears that were great and long.\nCHAPTER LVII. How Sir Dinadan met with Sir Tristram, and with jousting\nwith Sir Palomides, Sir Dinadan knew him.\nThen after that Sir Dinadan departed, and rode his way a great pace\nuntil he had overtaken Sir Tristram. And when Sir Dinadan had overtaken\nhim he knew him anon, and he hated the fellowship of him above all\nother knights. Ah, said Sir Dinadan, art thou that coward knight that I\nmet with yesterday? keep thee, for thou shalt joust with me maugre thy\nhead. Well, said Sir Tristram, and I am loath to joust. And so they let\ntheir horses run, and Sir Tristram missed of him a-purpose, and Sir\nDinadan brake a spear upon Sir Tristram, and therewith Sir Dinadan\ndressed him to draw out his sword. Not so, said Sir Tristram, why are\nye so wroth? I will not fight. Fie on thee, coward, said Dinadan, thou\nshamest all knights. As for that, said Sir Tristram, I care not, for I\nwill wait upon you and be under your protection; for because ye are so\ngood a knight ye may save me. The devil deliver me of thee, said Sir\nDinadan, for thou art as goodly a man of arms and of thy person as ever\nI saw, and the most coward that ever I saw. What wilt thou do with\nthose great spears that thou carriest with thee? I shall give them,\nsaid Sir Tristram, to some good knight when I come to the tournament;\nand if I see you do best, I shall give them to you.\nSo thus as they rode talking they saw where came an errant knight afore\nthem, that dressed him to joust. Lo, said Sir Tristram, yonder is one\nwill joust; now dress thee to him. Ah, shame betide thee, said Sir\nDinadan. Nay, not so, said Tristram, for that knight beseemeth a shrew.\nThen shall I, said Sir Dinadan. And so they dressed their shields and\ntheir spears, and they met together so hard that the other knight smote\ndown Sir Dinadan from his horse. Lo, said Sir Tristram, it had been\nbetter ye had left. Fie on thee, coward, said Sir Dinadan. Then Sir\nDinadan started up and gat his sword in his hand, and proffered to do\nbattle on foot. Whether in love or in wrath? said the other knight. Let\nus do battle in love, said Sir Dinadan. What is your name, said that\nknight, I pray you tell me. Wit ye well my name is Sir Dinadan. Ah,\nDinadan, said that knight, and my name is Gareth, the youngest brother\nunto Sir Gawaine. Then either made of other great cheer, for this\nGareth was the best knight of all the brethren, and he proved a good\nknight. Then they took their horses, and there they spake of Sir\nTristram, how such a coward he was; and every word Sir Tristram heard\nand laughed them to scorn.\nThen were they ware where came a knight afore them well horsed and well\narmed, and he made him ready to joust. Fair knights, said Sir Tristram,\nlook betwixt you who shall joust with yonder knight, for I warn you I\nwill not have ado with him. Then shall I, said Sir Gareth. And so they\nencountered together, and there that knight smote down Sir Gareth over\nhis horse\u2019s croup. How now, said Sir Tristram unto Sir Dinadan, dress\nthee now and revenge the good knight Gareth. That shall I not, said Sir\nDinadan, for he hath stricken down a much bigger knight than I am. Ah,\nsaid Sir Tristram, now Sir Dinadan, I see and feel well your heart\nfaileth you, therefore now shall ye see what I shall do. And then Sir\nTristram hurtled unto that knight, and smote him quite from his horse.\nAnd when Sir Dinadan saw that, he marvelled greatly; and then he deemed\nthat it was Sir Tristram.\nThen this knight that was on foot pulled out his sword to do battle.\nWhat is your name? said Sir Tristram. Wit ye well, said that knight, my\nname is Sir Palomides. What knight hate ye most? said Sir Tristram. Sir\nknight, said he, I hate Sir Tristram to the death, for an I may meet\nwith him the one of us shall die. Ye say well, said Sir Tristram, and\nwit ye well that I am Sir Tristram de Liones, and now do your worst.\nWhen Sir Palomides heard him say so he was astonied. And then he said\nthus: I pray you, Sir Tristram, forgive me all mine evil will, and if I\nlive I shall do you service above all other knights that be living; and\nwhereas I have owed you evil will me sore repenteth. I wot not what\naileth me, for meseemeth that ye are a good knight, and none other\nknight that named himself a good knight should not hate you; therefore\nI require you, Sir Tristram, take no displeasure at mine unkind words.\nSir Palomides, said Sir Tristram, ye say well, and well I wot ye are a\ngood knight, for I have seen ye proved; and many great enterprises have\nye taken upon you, and well achieved them; therefore, said Sir\nTristram, an ye have any evil will to me, now may ye right it, for I am\nready at your hand. Not so, my lord Sir Tristram, I will do you\nknightly service in all thing as ye will command. And right so I will\ntake you, said Sir Tristram. And so they rode forth on their ways\ntalking of many things. O my lord Sir Tristram, said Dinadan, foul have\nye mocked me, for God knoweth I came into this country for your sake,\nand by the advice of my lord Sir Launcelot; and yet would not Sir\nLauncelot tell me the certainty of you, where I should find you. Truly,\nsaid Sir Tristram, Sir Launcelot wist well where I was, for I abode\nwithin his own castle.\nCHAPTER LVIII. How they approached the Castle Lonazep, and of other\ndevices of the death of Sir Lamorak.\nThus they rode until they were ware of the Castle Lonazep. And then\nwere they ware of four hundred tents and pavilions, and marvellous\ngreat ordinance. So God me help, said Sir Tristram, yonder I see the\ngreatest ordinance that ever I saw. Sir, said Palomides, meseemeth that\nthere was as great an ordinance at the Castle of Maidens upon the rock,\nwhere ye won the prize, for I saw myself where ye forjousted thirty\nknights. Sir, said Dinadan, and in Surluse, at that tournament that\nGalahalt of the Long Isles made, the which there dured seven days, was\nas great a gathering as is here, for there were many nations. Who was\nthe best? said Sir Tristram. Sir, it was Sir Launcelot du Lake and the\nnoble knight, Sir Lamorak de Galis, and Sir Launcelot won the degree. I\ndoubt not, said Sir Tristram, but he won the degree, so he had not been\novermatched with many knights; and of the death of Sir Lamorak, said\nSir Tristram, it was over great pity, for I dare say he was the\ncleanest mighted man and the best winded of his age that was alive; for\nI knew him that he was the biggest knight that ever I met withal, but\nif it were Sir Launcelot. Alas, said Sir Tristram, full woe is me for\nhis death. And if they were not the cousins of my lord Arthur that slew\nhim, they should die for it, and all those that were consenting to his\ndeath. And for such things, said Sir Tristram, I fear to draw unto the\ncourt of my lord Arthur; I will that ye wit it, said Sir Tristram unto\nGareth.\nSir, I blame you not, said Gareth, for well I understand the vengeance\nof my brethren Sir Gawaine, Agravaine, Gaheris, and Mordred. But as for\nme, said Sir Gareth, I meddle not of their matters, therefore there is\nnone of them that loveth me. And for I understand they be murderers of\ngood knights I left their company; and God would I had been by, said\nGareth, when the noble knight, Sir Lamorak, was slain.\nNow as Jesu be my help, said Sir Tristram, it is well said of you, for\nI had liefer than all the gold betwixt this and Rome I had been there.\nIwis, said Palomides, and so would I had been there, and yet had I\nnever the degree at no jousts nor tournament thereas he was, but he put\nme to the worse, or on foot or on horseback; and that day that he was\nslain he did the most deeds of arms that ever I saw knight do in all my\nlife days. And when him was given the degree by my lord Arthur, Sir\nGawaine and his three brethren, Agravaine, Gaheris, and Sir Mordred,\nset upon Sir Lamorak in a privy place, and there they slew his horse.\nAnd so they fought with him on foot more than three hours, both before\nhim and behind him; and Sir Mordred gave him his death wound behind him\nat his back, and all to-hew him: for one of his squires told me that\nsaw it. Fie upon treason, said Sir Tristram, for it killeth my heart to\nhear this tale. So it doth mine, said Gareth; brethren as they be mine\nI shall never love them, nor draw in their fellowship for that deed.\nNow speak we of other deeds, said Palomides, and let him be, for his\nlife ye may not get again. That is the more pity, said Dinadan, for Sir\nGawaine and his brethren, except you Sir Gareth, hate all the good\nknights of the Round Table for the most part; for well I wot an they\nmight privily, they hate my lord Sir Launcelot and all his kin, and\ngreat privy despite they have at him; and that is my lord Sir Launcelot\nwell ware of, and that causeth him to have the good knights of his kin\nabout him.\nCHAPTER LIX. How they came to Humber bank, and how they found a ship\nthere, wherein lay the body of King Hermance.\nSir, said Palomides, let us leave of this matter, and let us see how we\nshall do at this tournament. By mine advice, said Palomides, let us\nfour hold together against all that will come. Not by my counsel, said\nSir Tristram, for I see by their pavilions there will be four hundred\nknights, and doubt ye not, said Sir Tristram, but there will be many\ngood knights; and be a man never so valiant nor so big, yet he may be\novermatched. And so have I seen knights done many times; and when they\nweened best to have won worship they lost it, for manhood is not worth\nbut if it be medled with wisdom. And as for me, said Sir Tristram, it\nmay happen I shall keep mine own head as well as another.\nSo thus they rode until that they came to Humber bank, where they heard\na cry and a doleful noise. Then were they ware in the wind where came a\nrich vessel hilled over with red silk, and the vessel landed fast by\nthem. Therewith Sir Tristram alighted and his knights. And so Sir\nTristram went afore and entered into that vessel. And when he came\nwithin he saw a fair bed richly covered, and thereupon lay a dead\nseemly knight, all armed save the head, was all be-bled with deadly\nwounds upon him, the which seemed to be a passing good knight. How may\nthis be, said Sir Tristram, that this knight is thus slain? Then Sir\nTristram was ware of a letter in the dead knight\u2019s hand. Master\nmariners, said Sir Tristram, what meaneth that letter? Sir, said they,\nin that letter ye shall hear and know how he was slain, and for what\ncause, and what was his name. But sir, said the mariners, wit ye well\nthat no man shall take that letter and read it but if he be a good\nknight, and that he will faithfully promise to revenge his death, else\nshall there be no knight see that letter open. Wit ye well, said Sir\nTristram, that some of us may revenge his death as well as other, and\nif it be so as ye mariners say his death shall be revenged. And\ntherewith Sir Tristram took the letter out of the knight\u2019s hand, and it\nsaid thus: Hermance, king and lord of the Red City, I send unto all\nknights errant, recommending unto you noble knights of Arthur\u2019s court.\nI beseech them all among them to find one knight that will fight for my\nsake with two brethren that I brought up of nought, and feloniously and\ntraitorly they have slain me; wherefore I beseech one good knight to\nrevenge my death. And he that revengeth my death I will that he have my\nRed City and all my castles.\nSir, said the mariners, wit ye well this king and knight that here\nlieth was a full worshipful man and of full great prowess, and full\nwell he loved all manner knights errants. So God me help, said Sir\nTristram, here is a piteous case, and full fain would I take this\nenterprise upon me; but I have made such a promise that needs I must be\nat this great tournament, or else I am shamed. For well I wot for my\nsake in especial my lord Arthur let make this jousts and tournament in\nthis country; and well I wot that many worshipful people will be there\nat that tournament for to see me; therefore I fear me to take this\nenterprise upon me that I shall not come again by time to this jousts.\nSir, said Palomides, I pray you give me this enterprise, and ye shall\nsee me achieve it worshipfully, other else I shall die in this quarrel.\nWell, said Sir Tristram, and this enterprise I give you, with this,\nthat ye be with me at this tournament that shall be as this day seven\nnight. Sir, said Palomides, I promise you that I shall be with you by\nthat day if I be unslain or unmaimed.\nCHAPTER LX. How Sir Tristram with his fellowship came and were with an\nhost which after fought with Sir Tristram; and other matters.\nThen departed Sir Tristram, Gareth, and Sir Dinadan, and left Sir\nPalomides in the vessel; and so Sir Tristram beheld the mariners how\nthey sailed overlong Humber. And when Sir Palomides was out of their\nsight they took their horses and beheld about them. And then were they\nware of a knight that came riding against them unarmed, and nothing\nabout him but a sword. And when this knight came nigh them he saluted\nthem, and they him again. Fair knights, said that knight, I pray you\ninsomuch as ye be knights errant, that ye will come and see my castle,\nand take such as ye find there; I pray you heartily. And so they rode\nwith him until his castle, and there they were brought into the hall,\nthat was well apparelled; and so they were there unarmed, and set at a\nboard; and when this knight saw Sir Tristram, anon he knew him. And\nthen this knight waxed pale and wroth at Sir Tristram. When Sir\nTristram saw his host make such cheer he marvelled and said: Sir, mine\nhost, what cheer make you? Wit thou well, said he, I fare the worse for\nthee, for I know thee, Sir Tristram de Liones, thou slewest my brother;\nand therefore I give thee summons I will slay thee an ever I may get\nthee at large. Sir knight, said Sir Tristram, I am never advised that\never I slew any brother of yours; and if ye say that I did I will make\namends unto my power. I will none amends, said the knight, but keep\nthee from me.\nSo when he had dined Sir Tristram asked his arms, and departed. And so\nthey rode on their ways, and within a while Sir Dinadan saw where came\na knight well armed and well horsed, without shield. Sir Tristram, said\nSir Dinadan, take keep to yourself, for I dare undertake yonder cometh\nyour host that will have ado with you. Let him come, said Sir Tristram,\nI shall abide him as well as I may. Anon the knight, when he came nigh\nSir Tristram, he cried and bade him abide and keep him. So they hurtled\ntogether, but Sir Tristram smote the other knight so sore that he bare\nhim over his horse\u2019s croup. That knight arose lightly and took his\nhorse again, and so rode fiercely to Sir Tristram, and smote him twice\nhard upon the helm. Sir knight, said Sir Tristram, I pray you leave off\nand smite me no more, for I would be loath to deal with you an I might\nchoose, for I have your meat and your drink within my body. For all\nthat he would not leave; and then Sir Tristram gave him such a buffet\nupon the helm that he fell up-so-down from his horse, that the blood\nbrast out at the ventails of his helm, and so he lay still likely to be\ndead. Then Sir Tristram said: Me repenteth of this buffet that I smote\nso sore, for as I suppose he is dead. And so they left him and rode on\ntheir ways.\nSo they had not ridden but a while, but they saw riding against them\ntwo full likely knights, well armed and well horsed, and goodly\nservants about them. The one was Berrant le Apres, and he was called\nthe King with the Hundred Knights; and the other was Sir Segwarides,\nwhich were renowned two noble knights. So as they came either by other\nthe king looked upon Sir Dinadan, that at that time he had Sir\nTristram\u2019s helm upon his shoulder, the which helm the king had seen\nto-fore with the Queen of Northgalis, and that queen the king loved as\nparamour; and that helm the Queen of Northgalis had given to La Beale\nIsoud, and the queen La Beale Isoud gave it to Sir Tristram. Sir\nknight, said Berrant, where had ye that helm? What would ye? said Sir\nDinadan. For I will have ado with thee, said the king, for the love of\nher that owed that helm, and therefore keep you. So they departed and\ncame together with all their mights of their horses, and there the King\nwith the Hundred Knights smote Sir Dinadan, horse and all, to the\nearth; and then he commanded his servant: Go and take thou his helm\noff, and keep it. So the varlet went to unbuckle his helm. What helm,\nwhat wilt thou do? said Sir Tristram, leave that helm. To what intent,\nsaid the king, will ye, sir knight, meddle with that helm? Wit you\nwell, said Sir Tristram, that helm shall not depart from me or it be\ndearer bought. Then make you ready, said Sir Berrant unto Sir Tristram.\nSo they hurtled together, and there Sir Tristram smote him down over\nhis horse\u2019s tail; and then the king arose lightly, and gat his horse\nlightly again. And then he struck fiercely at Sir Tristram many great\nstrokes. And then Sir Tristram gave Sir Berrant such a buffet upon the\nhelm that he fell down over his horse sore stonied. Lo, said Dinadan,\nthat helm is unhappy to us twain, for I had a fall for it, and now, sir\nking, have ye another fall.\nThen Segwarides asked: Who shall joust with me? I pray thee, said Sir\nGareth unto Dinadan, let me have this jousts. Sir, said Dinadan, I pray\nyou take it as for me. That is no reason, said Tristram, for this\njousts should be yours. At a word, said Dinadan, I will not thereof.\nThen Gareth dressed him to Sir Segwarides, and there Sir Segwarides\nsmote Gareth and his horse to the earth. Now, said Sir Tristram to\nDinadan, joust with yonder knight. I will not thereof, said Dinadan.\nThen will I, said Sir Tristram. And then Sir Tristram ran to him, and\ngave him a fall; and so they left them on foot, and Sir Tristram rode\nunto Joyous Gard, and there Sir Gareth would not of his courtesy have\ngone into this castle, but Sir Tristram would not suffer him to depart.\nAnd so they alighted and unarmed them, and had great cheer. But when\nDinadan came afore La Beale Isoud he cursed the time that ever he bare\nSir Tristram\u2019s helm, and there he told her how Sir Tristram had mocked\nhim. Then was there laughing and japing at Sir Dinadan, that they wist\nnot what to do with him.\nCHAPTER LXI. How Palomides went for to fight with two brethren for the\ndeath of King Hermance.\nNow will we leave them merry within Joyous Gard, and speak we of Sir\nPalomides. Then Sir Palomides sailed evenlong Humber to the coasts of\nthe sea, where was a fair castle. And at that time it was early in the\nmorning, afore day. Then the mariners went unto Sir Palomides that\nslept fast. Sir knight, said the mariners, ye must arise, for here is a\ncastle there ye must go into. I assent me, said Sir Palomides; and\ntherewithal he arrived. And then he blew his horn that the mariners had\ngiven him. And when they within the castle heard that horn they put\nforth many knights; and there they stood upon the walls, and said with\none voice: Welcome be ye to this castle. And then it waxed clear day,\nand Sir Palomides entered into the castle. And within a while he was\nserved with many divers meats. Then Sir Palomides heard about him much\nweeping and great dole. What may this mean? said Sir Palomides; I love\nnot to hear such a sorrow, and fain I would know what it meaneth. Then\nthere came afore him one whose name was Sir Ebel, that said thus: Wit\nye well, sir knight, this dole and sorrow is here made every day, and\nfor this cause: we had a king that hight Hermance, and he was King of\nthe Red City, and this king that was lord was a noble knight, large and\nliberal of his expense; and in the world he loved nothing so much as he\ndid errant knights of King Arthur\u2019s court, and all jousting, hunting,\nand all manner of knightly games; for so kind a king and knight had\nnever the rule of poor people as he was; and because of his goodness\nand gentleness we bemoan him, and ever shall. And all kings and\nestates may beware by our lord, for he was destroyed in his own\ndefault; for had he cherished them of his blood he had yet lived with\ngreat riches and rest: but all estates may beware by our king. But\nalas, said Ebel, that we shall give all other warning by his death.\nTell me, said Palomides, and in what manner was your lord slain, and by\nwhom. Sir, said Sir Ebel, our king brought up of children two men that\nnow are perilous knights; and these two knights our king had so in\ncharity, that he loved no man nor trusted no man of his blood, nor none\nother that was about him. And by these two knights our king was\ngoverned, and so they ruled him peaceably and his lands, and never\nwould they suffer none of his blood to have no rule with our king. And\nalso he was so free and so gentle, and they so false and deceivable,\nthat they ruled him peaceably; and that espied the lords of our king\u2019s\nblood, and departed from him unto their own livelihood. Then when these\ntwo traitors understood that they had driven all the lords of his blood\nfrom him, they were not pleased with that rule, but then they thought\nto have more, as ever it is an old saw: Give a churl rule and thereby\nhe will not be sufficed; for whatsomever he be that is ruled by a\nvillain born, and the lord of the soil to be a gentleman born, the same\nvillain shall destroy all the gentlemen about him: therefore all\nestates and lords, beware whom ye take about you. And if ye be a knight\nof King Arthur\u2019s court remember this tale, for this is the end and\nconclusion. My lord and king rode unto the forest hereby by the advice\nof these traitors, and there he chased at the red deer, armed at all\npieces full like a good knight; and so for labour he waxed dry, and\nthen he alighted, and drank at a well. And when he was alighted, by the\nassent of these two traitors, that one that hight Helius he suddenly\nsmote our king through the body with a spear, and so they left him\nthere. And when they were departed, then by fortune I came to the well,\nand found my lord and king wounded to the death. And when I heard his\ncomplaint, I let bring him to the water side, and in that same ship I\nput him alive; and when my lord King Hermance was in that vessel, he\nrequired me for the true faith I owed unto him for to write a letter in\nthis manner.\nCHAPTER LXII. The copy of the letter written for to revenge the king\u2019s\ndeath, and how Sir Palomides fought for to have the battle.\nRecommending unto King Arthur and to all his knights errant, beseeching\nthem all that insomuch as I, King Hermance, King of the Red City, thus\nam slain by felony and treason, through two knights of mine own, and of\nmine own bringing up and of mine own making, that some worshipful\nknight will revenge my death, insomuch I have been ever to my power\nwell willing unto Arthur\u2019s court. And who that will adventure his life\nwith these two traitors for my sake in one battle, I, King Hermance,\nKing of the Red City, freely give him all my lands and rents that ever\nI wielded in my life. This letter, said Ebel, I wrote by my lord\u2019s\ncommandment, and then he received his Creator; and when he was dead, he\ncommanded me or ever he were cold to put that letter fast in his hand.\nAnd then he commanded me to put forth that same vessel down Humber, and\nI should give these mariners in commandment never to stint until that\nthey came unto Logris, where all the noble knights shall assemble at\nthis time. And there shall some good knight have pity on me to revenge\nmy death, for there was never king nor lord falslier nor traitorlier\nslain than I am here to my death. Thus was the complaint of our King\nHermance. Now, said Sir Ebel, ye know all how our lord was betrayed, we\nrequire you for God\u2019s sake have pity upon his death, and worshipfully\nrevenge his death, and then may ye wield all these lands. For we all\nwit well that an ye may slay these two traitors, the Red City and all\nthose that be therein will take you for their lord.\nTruly, said Sir Palomides, it grieveth my heart for to hear you tell\nthis doleful tale; and to say the truth I saw the same letter that ye\nspeak of, and one of the best knights on the earth read that letter to\nme, and by his commandment I came hither to revenge your king\u2019s death;\nand therefore have done, and let me wit where I shall find those\ntraitors, for I shall never be at ease in my heart till I be in hands\nwith them. Sir, said Sir Ebel, then take your ship again, and that ship\nmust bring you unto the Delectable Isle, fast by the Red City, and we\nin this castle shall pray for you, and abide your again-coming. For\nthis same castle, an ye speed well, must needs be yours; for our King\nHermance let make this castle for the love of the two traitors, and so\nwe kept it with strong hand, and therefore full sore are we threated.\nWot ye what ye shall do, said Sir Palomides; whatsomever come of me,\nlook ye keep well this castle. For an it misfortune me so to be slain\nin this quest I am sure there will come one of the best knights of the\nworld for to revenge my death, and that is Sir Tristram de Liones, or\nelse Sir Launcelot du Lake.\nThen Sir Palomides departed from that castle. And as he came nigh the\ncity, there came out of a ship a goodly knight armed against him, with\nhis shield on his shoulder, and his hand upon his sword. And anon as he\ncame nigh Sir Palomides he said: Sir knight, what seek ye here? leave\nthis quest for it is mine, and mine it was or ever it was yours, and\ntherefore I will have it. Sir knight, said Palomides, it may well be\nthat this quest was yours or it was mine, but when the letter was taken\nout of the dead king\u2019s hand, at that time by likelihood there was no\nknight had undertaken to revenge the death of the king. And so at that\ntime I promised to revenge his death, and so I shall or else I am\nashamed. Ye say well, said the knight, but wit ye well then will I\nfight with you, and who be the better knight of us both, let him take\nthe battle upon hand. I assent me, said Sir Palomides. And then they\ndressed their shields, and pulled out their swords, and lashed together\nmany sad strokes as men of might; and this fighting was more than an\nhour, but at the last Sir Palomides waxed big and better winded, so\nthat then he smote that knight such a stroke that he made him to kneel\nupon his knees. Then that knight spake on high and said: Gentle knight,\nhold thy hand. Sir Palomides was goodly and withdrew his hand. Then\nthis knight said: Wit ye well, knight, that thou art better worthy to\nhave this battle than I, and require thee of knighthood tell me thy\nname. Sir, my name is Palomides, a knight of King Arthur\u2019s, and of the\nTable Round, that hither I came to revenge the death of this dead king.\nCHAPTER LXIII. Of the preparation of Sir Palomides and the two brethren\nthat should fight with him.\nWell be ye found, said the knight to Palomides, for of all knights that\nbe alive, except three, I had liefest have you. The first is Sir\nLauncelot du Lake, and Sir Tristram de Liones, the third is my nigh\ncousin, Sir Lamorak de Galis. And I am brother unto King Hermance that\nis dead, and my name is Sir Hermind. Ye say well, said Sir Palomides,\nand ye shall see how I shall speed; and if I be there slain go ye to my\nlord Sir Launcelot, or else to my lord Sir Tristram, and pray them to\nrevenge my death, for as for Sir Lamorak him shall ye never see in this\nworld. Alas, said Sir Hermind, how may that be? He is slain, said Sir\nPalomides, by Sir Gawaine and his brethren. So God me help, said\nHermind, there was not one for one that slew him. That is truth, said\nSir Palomides, for they were four dangerous knights that slew him, as\nSir Gawaine, Sir Agravaine, Sir Gaheris, and Sir Mordred, but Sir\nGareth, the fifth brother was away, the best knight of them all. And so\nSir Palomides told Hermind all the manner, and how they slew Sir\nLamorak all only by treason.\nSo Sir Palomides took his ship, and arrived up at the Delectable Isle.\nAnd in the meanwhile Sir Hermind that was the king\u2019s brother, he\narrived up at the Red City, and there he told them how there was come a\nknight of King Arthur\u2019s to avenge King Hermance\u2019s death: And his name\nis Sir Palomides, the good knight, that for the most part he followeth\nthe beast Glatisant. Then all the city made great joy, for mickle had\nthey heard of Sir Palomides, and of his noble prowess. So let they\nordain a messenger, and sent unto the two brethren, and bade them to\nmake them ready, for there was a knight come that would fight with them\nboth. So the messenger went unto them where they were at a castle there\nbeside; and there he told them how there was a knight come of King\nArthur\u2019s court to fight with them both at once. He is welcome, said\nthey; but tell us, we pray you, if it be Sir Launcelot or any of his\nblood? He is none of that blood, said the messenger. Then we care the\nless, said the two brethren, for with none of the blood of Sir\nLauncelot we keep not to have ado withal. Wit ye well, said the\nmessenger, that his name is Sir Palomides, that yet is unchristened, a\nnoble knight. Well, said they, an he be now unchristened he shall never\nbe christened. So they appointed to be at the city within two days.\nAnd when Sir Palomides was come to the city they made passing great joy\nof him, and then they beheld him, and saw that he was well made,\ncleanly and bigly, and unmaimed of his limbs, and neither too young nor\ntoo old. And so all the people praised him; and though he was not\nchristened yet he believed in the best manner, and was full faithful\nand true of his promise, and well conditioned; and because he made his\navow that he would never be christened unto the time that he had\nachieved the beast Glatisant, the which was a full wonderful beast, and\na great signification; for Merlin prophesied much of that beast. And\nalso Sir Palomides avowed never to take full christendom unto the time\nthat he had done seven battles within the lists.\nSo within the third day there came to the city these two brethren, the\none hight Helius, the other hight Helake, the which were men of great\nprowess; howbeit that they were false and full of treason, and but poor\nmen born, yet were they noble knights of their hands. And with them\nthey brought forty knights, to that intent that they should be big\nenough for the Red City. Thus came the two brethren with great bobaunce\nand pride, for they had put the Red City in fear and damage. Then they\nwere brought to the lists, and Sir Palomides came into the place and\nsaid thus: Be ye the two brethren, Helius and Helake, that slew your\nking and lord, Sir Hermance, by felony and treason, for whom that I am\ncome hither to revenge his death? Wit thou well, said Sir Helius and\nSir Helake, that we are the same knights that slew King Hermance; and\nwit thou well, Sir Palomides Saracen, that we shall handle thee so or\nthou depart that thou shalt wish that thou wert christened. It may well\nbe, said Sir Palomides, for yet I would not die or I were christened;\nand yet so am I not afeard of you both, but I trust to God that I shall\ndie a better christian man than any of you both; and doubt ye not, said\nSir Palomides, either ye or I shall be left dead in this place.\nCHAPTER LXIV. Of the battle between Sir Palomides and the two brethren,\nand how the two brethren were slain.\nThen they departed, and the two brethren came against Sir Palomides,\nand he against them, as fast as their horses might run. And by fortune\nSir Palomides smote Helake through his shield and through the breast\nmore than a fathom. All this while Sir Helius held up his spear, and\nfor pride and orgulit\u00e9 he would not smite Sir Palomides with his spear;\nbut when he saw his brother lie on the earth, and saw he might not help\nhimself, then he said unto Sir Palomides: Help thyself. And therewith\nhe came hurtling unto Sir Palomides with his spear, and smote him quite\nfrom his saddle. Then Sir Helius rode over Sir Palomides twice or\nthrice. And therewith Sir Palomides was ashamed, and gat the horse of\nSir Helius by the bridle, and therewithal the horse areared, and Sir\nPalomides halp after, and so they fell both to the earth; but anon Sir\nHelius stert up lightly, and there he smote Sir Palomides a great\nstroke upon the helm, that he kneeled upon his own knee. Then they\nlashed together many sad strokes, and traced and traversed now\nbackward, now sideling, hurtling together like two boars, and that same\ntime they fell both grovelling to the earth.\nThus they fought still without any reposing two hours, and never\nbreathed; and then Sir Palomides waxed faint and weary, and Sir Helius\nwaxed passing strong, and doubled his strokes, and drove Sir Palomides\noverthwart and endlong all the field, that they of the city when they\nsaw Sir Palomides in this case they wept and cried, and made great\ndole, and the other party made as great joy. Alas, said the men of the\ncity, that this noble knight should thus be slain for our king\u2019s sake.\nAnd as they were thus weeping and crying, Sir Palomides that had\nsuffered an hundred strokes, that it was wonder that he stood on his\nfeet, at the last Sir Palomides beheld as he might the common people,\nhow they wept for him; and then he said to himself: Ah, fie for shame,\nSir Palomides, why hangest thou thy head so low; and therewith he bare\nup his shield, and looked Sir Helius in the visage, and he smote him a\ngreat stroke upon the helm, and after that another and another. And\nthen he smote Sir Helius with such a might that he fell to the earth\ngrovelling; and then he raced off his helm from his head, and there he\nsmote him such a buffet that he departed his head from the body. And\nthen were the people of the city the joyfullest people that might be.\nSo they brought him to his lodging with great solemnity, and there all\nthe people became his men. And then Sir Palomides prayed them all to\ntake keep unto all the lordship of King Hermance: For, fair sirs, wit\nye well I may not as at this time abide with you, for I must in all\nhaste be with my lord King Arthur at the Castle of Lonazep, the which I\nhave promised. Then was the people full heavy at his departing, for all\nthat city proffered Sir Palomides the third part of their goods so that\nhe would abide with them; but in no wise as at that time he would not\nabide.\nAnd so Sir Palomides departed, and so he came unto the castle thereas\nSir Ebel was lieutenant. And when they in the castle wist how Sir\nPalomides had sped, there was a joyful meiny; and so Sir Palomides\ndeparted, and came to the castle of Lonazep. And when he wist that Sir\nTristram was not there he took his way over Humber, and came unto\nJoyous Gard, whereas Sir Tristram was and La Beale Isoud. Sir Tristram\nhad commanded that what knight errant came within the Joyous Gard, as\nin the town, that they should warn Sir Tristram. So there came a man of\nthe town, and told Sir Tristram how there was a knight in the town, a\npassing goodly man. What manner of man is he, said Sir Tristram, and\nwhat sign beareth he? So the man told Sir Tristram all the tokens of\nhim. That is Palomides, said Dinadan. It may well be, said Sir\nTristram. Go ye to him, said Sir Tristram unto Dinadan. So Dinadan went\nunto Sir Palomides, and there either made other great joy, and so they\nlay together that night. And on the morn early came Sir Tristram and\nSir Gareth, and took them in their beds, and so they arose and brake\ntheir fast.\nCHAPTER LXV. How Sir Tristram and Sir Palomides met Breuse Saunce Pit\u00e9,\nand how Sir Tristram and La Beale Isoud went unto Lonazep.\nAnd then Sir Tristram desired Sir Palomides to ride into the fields and\nwoods. So they were accorded to repose them in the forest. And when\nthey had played them a great while they rode unto a fair well; and anon\nthey were ware of an armed knight that came riding against them, and\nthere either saluted other. Then this armed knight spake to Sir\nTristram, and asked what were these knights that were lodged in Joyous\nGard. I wot not what they are, said Sir Tristram. What knights be ye?\nsaid that knight, for meseemeth ye be no knights errant, because ye\nride unarmed. Whether we be knights or not we list not to tell thee our\nname. Wilt thou not tell me thy name? said that knight; then keep thee,\nfor thou shalt die of my hands. And therewith he got his spear in his\nhands, and would have run Sir Tristram through. That saw Sir Palomides,\nand smote his horse traverse in midst of the side, that man and horse\nfell to the earth. And therewith Sir Palomides alighted and pulled out\nhis sword to have slain him. Let be, said Sir Tristram, slay him not,\nthe knight is but a fool, it were shame to slay him. But take away his\nspear, said Sir Tristram, and let him take his horse and go where that\nhe will.\nSo when this knight arose he groaned sore of the fall, and so he took\nhis horse, and when he was up he turned then his horse, and required\nSir Tristram and Sir Palomides to tell him what knights they were. Now\nwit ye well, said Sir Tristram, that my name is Sir Tristram de Liones,\nand this knight\u2019s name is Sir Palomides. When he wist what they were he\ntook his horse with the spurs, because they should not ask him his\nname, and so rode fast away through thick and thin. Then came there by\nthem a knight with a bended shield of azure, whose name was Epinogris,\nand he came toward them a great wallop. Whither are ye riding? said Sir\nTristram. My fair lords, said Epinogris, I follow the falsest knight\nthat beareth the life; wherefore I require you tell me whether ye saw\nhim, for he beareth a shield with a case of red over it. So God me\nhelp, said Tristram, such a knight departed from us not a quarter of an\nhour agone; we pray you tell us his name. Alas, said Epinogris, why let\nye him escape from you? and he is so great a foe unto all errant\nknights: his name is Breuse Saunce Pit\u00e9. Ah, fie for shame, said Sir\nPalomides, alas that ever he escaped mine hands, for he is the man in\nthe world that I hate most. Then every knight made great sorrow to\nother; and so Epinogris departed and followed the chase after him.\nThen Sir Tristram and his three fellows rode unto Joyous Gard; and\nthere Sir Tristram talked unto Sir Palomides of his battle, how he sped\nat the Red City, and as ye have heard afore so was it ended. Truly,\nsaid Sir Tristram, I am glad ye have well sped, for ye have done\nworshipfully. Well, said Sir Tristram, we must forward to-morn. And\nthen he devised how it should be; and Sir Tristram devised to send his\ntwo pavilions to set them fast by the well of Lonazep, and therein\nshall be the queen La Beale Isoud. It is well said, said Sir Dinadan,\nbut when Sir Palomides heard of that his heart was ravished out of\nmeasure: notwithstanding he said but little. So when they came to\nJoyous Gard Sir Palomides would not have gone into the castle, but as\nSir Tristram took him by the finger, and led him into the castle. And\nwhen Sir Palomides saw La Beale Isoud he was ravished so that he might\nunnethe speak. So they went unto meat, but Palomides might not eat, and\nthere was all the cheer that might be had. And on the morn they were\napparelled to ride toward Lonazep.\nSo Sir Tristram had three squires, and La Beale Isoud had three\ngentlewomen, and both the queen and they were richly apparelled; and\nother people had they none with them, but varlets to bear their shields\nand their spears. And thus they rode forth. So as they rode they saw\nafore them a rout of knights; it was the knight Galihodin with twenty\nknights with him. Fair fellows, said Galihodin, yonder come four\nknights, and a rich and a well fair lady: I am in will to take that\nlady from them. That is not of the best counsel, said one of\nGalihodin\u2019s men, but send ye to them and wit what they will say; and so\nit was done. There came a squire unto Sir Tristram, and asked them\nwhether they would joust or else to lose their lady. Not so, said Sir\nTristram, tell your lord I bid him come as many as we be, and win her\nand take her. Sir, said Palomides, an it please you let me have this\ndeed, and I shall undertake them all four. I will that ye have it, said\nSir Tristram, at your pleasure. Now go and tell your lord Galihodin,\nthat this same knight will encounter with him and his fellows.\nCHAPTER LXVI. How Sir Palomides jousted with Sir Galihodin, and after\nwith Sir Gawaine, and smote them down.\nThen this squire departed and told Galihodin; and then he dressed his\nshield, and put forth a spear, and Sir Palomides another; and there Sir\nPalomides smote Galihodin so hard that he smote both horse and man to\nthe earth. And there he had an horrible fall. And then came there\nanother knight, and in the same wise he served him; and so he served\nthe third and the fourth, that he smote them over their horses\u2019 croups,\nand always Sir Palomides\u2019 spear was whole. Then came six knights more\nof Galihodin\u2019s men, and would have been avenged upon Sir Palomides. Let\nbe, said Sir Galihodin, not so hardy, none of you all meddle with this\nknight, for he is a man of great bount\u00e9 and honour, and if he would ye\nwere not able to meddle with him. And right so they held them still.\nAnd ever Sir Palomides was ready to joust; and when he saw they would\nno more he rode unto Sir Tristram. Right well have ye done, said Sir\nTristram, and worshipfully have ye done as a good knight should. This\nGalihodin was nigh cousin unto Galahalt, the haut prince; and this\nGalihodin was a king within the country of Surluse.\nSo as Sir Tristram, Sir Palomides, and La Beale Isoud rode together\nthey saw afore them four knights, and every man had his spear in his\nhand: the first was Sir Gawaine, the second Sir Uwaine, the third Sir\nSagramore le Desirous, and the fourth was Dodinas le Savage. When Sir\nPalomides beheld them, that the four knights were ready to joust, he\nprayed Sir Tristram to give him leave to have ado with them all so long\nas he might hold him on horseback. And if that I be smitten down I pray\nyou revenge me. Well, said Sir Tristram, I will as ye will, and ye are\nnot so fain to have worship but I would as fain increase your worship.\nAnd therewithal Sir Gawaine put forth his spear, and Sir Palomides\nanother; and so they came so eagerly together that Sir Palomides smote\nSir Gawaine to the earth, horse and all; and in the same wise he served\nUwaine, Sir Dodinas, and Sagramore. All these four knights Sir\nPalomides smote down with divers spears. And then Sir Tristram departed\ntoward Lonazep.\nAnd when they were departed then came thither Galihodin with his ten\nknights unto Sir Gawaine, and there he told him all how he had sped. I\nmarvel, said Sir Gawaine, what knights they be, that are so arrayed in\ngreen. And that knight upon the white horse smote me down, said\nGalihodin, and my three fellows. And so he did to me, said Gawaine; and\nwell I wot, said Sir Gawaine, that either he upon the white horse is\nSir Tristram or else Sir Palomides, and that gay beseen lady is Queen\nIsoud. Thus they talked of one thing and of other.\nAnd in the meanwhile Sir Tristram passed on till that he came to the\nwell where his two pavilions were set; and there they alighted, and\nthere they saw many pavilions and great array. Then Sir Tristram left\nthere Sir Palomides and Sir Gareth with La Beale Isoud, and Sir\nTristram and Sir Dinadan rode to Lonazep to hearken tidings; and Sir\nTristram rode upon Sir Palomides\u2019 white horse. And when he came into\nthe castle Sir Dinadan heard a great horn blow, and to the horn drew\nmany knights. Then Sir Tristram asked a knight: What meaneth the blast\nof that horn? Sir, said that knight, it is all those that shall hold\nagainst King Arthur at this tournament. The first is the King of\nIreland, and the King of Surluse, the King of Listinoise, the King of\nNorthumberland, and the King of the best part of Wales, with many other\ncountries. And these draw them to a council, to understand what\ngovernance they shall be of; but the King of Ireland, whose name was\nMarhalt, and father to the good knight Sir Marhaus that Sir Tristram\nslew, had all the speech that Sir Tristram might hear it. He said:\nLords and fellows, let us look to ourself, for wit ye well King Arthur\nis sure of many good knights, or else he would not with so few knights\nhave ado with us; therefore by my counsel let every king have a\nstandard and a cognisance by himself, that every knight draw to their\nnatural lord, and then may every king and captain help his knights if\nthey have need. When Sir Tristram had heard all their counsel he rode\nunto King Arthur for to hear of his counsel.\nCHAPTER LXVII. How Sir Tristram and his fellowship came into the\ntournament of Lonazep; and of divers jousts and matters.\nBut Sir Tristram was not so soon come into the place, but Sir Gawaine\nand Sir Galihodin went to King Arthur, and told him: That same green\nknight in the green harness with the white horse smote us two down, and\nsix of our fellows this same day. Well, said Arthur. And then he called\nSir Tristram and asked him what was his name. Sir, said Sir Tristram,\nye shall hold me excused as at this time, for ye shall not wit my name.\nAnd there Sir Tristram returned and rode his way. I have marvel, said\nArthur, that yonder knight will not tell me his name, but go thou,\nGriflet le Fise de Dieu, and pray him to speak with me betwixt us. Then\nSir Griflet rode after him and overtook him, and said him that King\nArthur prayed him for to speak with him secretly apart. Upon this\ncovenant, said Sir Tristram, I will speak with him; that I will turn\nagain so that ye will ensure me not to desire to hear my name. I shall\nundertake, said Sir Griflet, that he will not greatly desire it of you.\nSo they rode together until they came to King Arthur. Fair sir, said\nKing Arthur, what is the cause ye will not tell me your name? Sir, said\nSir Tristram, without a cause I will not hide my name. Upon what party\nwill ye hold? said King Arthur. Truly, my lord, said Sir Tristram, I\nwot not yet on what party I will be on, until I come to the field, and\nthere as my heart giveth me, there will I hold; but to-morrow ye shall\nsee and prove on what party I shall come. And therewithal he returned\nand went to his pavilions.\nAnd upon the morn they armed them all in green, and came into the\nfield; and there young knights began to joust, and did many worshipful\ndeeds. Then spake Gareth unto Sir Tristram, and prayed him to give him\nleave to break his spear, for him thought shame to bear his spear whole\nagain. When Sir Tristram heard him say so he laughed, and said: I pray\nyou do your best. Then Sir Gareth gat a spear and proffered to joust.\nThat saw a knight that was nephew unto the King of the Hundred Knights;\nhis name was Selises, and a good man of arms. So this knight Selises\nthen dressed him unto Sir Gareth, and they two met together so hard\nthat either smote other down, his horse and all, to the earth, so they\nwere both bruised and hurt; and there they lay till the King with the\nHundred Knights halp Selises up, and Sir Tristram and Sir Palomides\nhalp up Gareth again. And so they rode with Sir Gareth unto their\npavilions, and then they pulled off his helm.\nAnd when La Beale Isoud saw Sir Gareth bruised in the face she asked\nhim what ailed him. Madam, said Sir Gareth, I had a great buffet, and\nas I suppose I gave another, but none of my fellows, God thank them,\nwould not rescue me. Forsooth, said Palomides, it longed not to none of\nus as this day to joust, for there have not this day jousted no proved\nknights, and needly ye would joust. And when the other party saw ye\nproffered yourself to joust they sent one to you, a passing good knight\nof his age, for I know him well, his name is Selises; and worshipfully\nye met with him, and neither of you are dishonoured, and therefore\nrefresh yourself that ye may be ready and whole to joust to-morrow. As\nfor that, said Gareth, I shall not fail you an I may bestride mine\nhorse.\nCHAPTER LXVIII. How Sir Tristram and his fellowship jousted, and of the\nnoble feats that they did in that tourneying.\nNow upon what party, said Tristram, is it best we be withal as to-morn?\nSir, said Palomides, ye shall have mine advice to be against King\nArthur as to-morn, for on his party will be Sir Launcelot and many good\nknights of his blood with him. And the more men of worship that they\nbe, the more worship we shall win. That is full knightly spoken, said\nSir Tristram; and right so as ye counsel me, so will we do. In the name\nof God, said they all. So that night they were lodged with the best.\nAnd on the morn when it was day they were arrayed all in green\ntrappings, shields and spears, and La Beale Isoud in the same colour,\nand her three damosels. And right so these four knights came into the\nfield endlong and through. And so they led La Beale Isoud thither as\nshe should stand and behold all the jousts in a bay window; but always\nshe was wimpled that no man might see her visage. And then these three\nknights rode straight unto the party of the King of Scots.\nWhen King Arthur had seen them do all this he asked Sir Launcelot what\nwere these knights and that queen. Sir, said Launcelot, I cannot say\nyou in certain, but if Sir Tristram be in this country, or Sir\nPalomides, wit ye well it be they m certain, and La Beale Isoud. Then\nArthur called to him Sir Kay and said: Go lightly and wit how many\nknights there be here lacking of the Table Round, for by the sieges\nthou mayst know. So went Sir Kay and saw by the writings in the sieges\nthat there lacked ten knights. And these be their names that be not\nhere. Sir Tristram, Sir Palomides, Sir Percivale, Sir Gaheris, Sir\nEpinogris, Sir Mordred, Sir Dinadan, Sir La Cote Male Taile, and Sir\nPelleas the noble knight. Well, said Arthur, some of these I dare\nundertake are here this day against us.\nThen came therein two brethren, cousins unto Sir Gawaine, the one hight\nSir Edward, that other hight Sir Sadok, the which were two good\nknights; and they asked of King Arthur that they might have the first\njousts, for they were of Orkney. I am pleased, said King Arthur. Then\nSir Edward encountered with the King of Scots, in whose party was Sir\nTristram and Sir Palomides; and Sir Edward smote the King of Scots\nquite from his horse, and Sir Sadok smote down the King of North Wales,\nand gave him a wonder great fall, that there was a great cry on King\nArthur\u2019s party, and that made Sir Palomides passing wroth. And so Sir\nPalomides dressed his shield and his spear, and with all his might he\nmet with Sir Edward of Orkney, that he smote him so hard that his horse\nmight not stand on his feet, and so they hurtled to the earth; and then\nwith the same spear Sir Palomides smote down Sir Sadok over his horse\u2019s\ncroup. O Jesu, said Arthur, what knight is that arrayed all in green?\nhe jousteth mightily. Wit you well, said Sir Gawaine, he is a good\nknight, and yet shall ye see him joust better or he depart. And yet\nshall ye see, said Sir Gawaine, another bigger knight, in the same\ncolour, than he is; for that same knight, said Sir Gawaine, that smote\ndown right now my four cousins, he smote me down within these two days,\nand seven fellows more.\nThis meanwhile as they stood thus talking there came into the place Sir\nTristram upon a black horse, and or ever he stint he smote down with\none spear four good knights of Orkney that were of the kin of Sir\nGawaine; and Sir Gareth and Sir Dinadan everych of them smote down a\ngood knight. Jesu, said Arthur, yonder knight upon the black horse doth\nmightily and marvellously well. Abide you, said Sir Gawaine; that\nknight with the black horse began not yet. Then Sir Tristram made to\nhorse again the two kings that Edward and Sadok had unhorsed at the\nbeginning. And then Sir Tristram drew his sword and rode into the\nthickest of the press against them of Orkney; and there he smote down\nknights, and rashed off helms, and pulled away their shields, and\nhurtled down many knights: he fared so that Sir Arthur and all knights\nhad great marvel when they saw one knight do so great deeds of arms.\nAnd Sir Palomides failed not upon the other side, but did so\nmarvellously well that all men had wonder. For there King Arthur\nlikened Sir Tristram that was on the black horse like to a wood lion,\nand likened Sir Palomides upon the white horse unto a wood leopard, and\nSir Gareth and Sir Dinadan unto eager wolves. But the custom was such\namong them that none of the kings would help other, but all the\nfellowship of every standard to help other as they might; but ever Sir\nTristram did so much deeds of arms that they of Orkney waxed weary of\nhim, and so withdrew them unto Lonazep.\nCHAPTER LXIX. How Sir Tristram was unhorsed and smitten down by Sir\nLauncelot, and after that Sir Tristram smote down King Arthur.\nThen was the cry of heralds and all manner of common people: The Green\nKnight hath done marvellously, and beaten all them of Orkney. And there\nthe heralds numbered that Sir Tristram that sat upon the black horse\nhad smitten down with spears and swords thirty knights; and Sir\nPalomides had smitten down twenty knights, and the most part of these\nfifty knights were of the house of King Arthur, and proved knights. So\nGod me help, said Arthur unto Sir Launcelot, this is a great shame to\nus to see four knights beat so many knights of mine; and therefore make\nyou ready, for we will have ado with them. Sir, said Launcelot, wit ye\nwell that there are two passing good knights, and great worship were it\nnot to us now to have ado with them, for they have this day sore\ntravailed. As for that, said Arthur, I will be avenged; and therefore\ntake with you Sir Bleoberis and Sir Ector, and I will be the fourth,\nsaid Arthur. Sir, said Launcelot, ye shall find me ready, and my\nbrother Sir Ector, and my cousin Sir Bleoberis. And so when they were\nready and on horseback: Now choose, said Sir Arthur unto Sir Launcelot,\nwith whom that ye will encounter withal. Sir, said Launcelot, I will\nmeet with the green knight upon the black horse, that was Sir Tristram;\nand my cousin Sir Bleoberis shall match the green knight upon the white\nhorse, that was Sir Palomides; and my brother Sir Ector shall match\nwith the green knight upon the white horse, that was Sir Gareth. Then\nmust I, said Sir Arthur, have ado with the green knight upon the\ngrisled horse, and that was Sir Dinadan. Now every man take heed to his\nfellow, said Sir Launcelot. And so they trotted on together, and there\nencountered Sir Launcelot against Sir Tristram. So Sir Launcelot smote\nSir Tristram so sore upon the shield that he bare horse and man to the\nearth; but Sir Launcelot weened that it had been Sir Palomides, and so\nhe passed forth. And then Sir Bleoberis encountered with Sir Palomides,\nand he smote him so hard upon the shield that Sir Palomides and his\nwhite horse rustled to the earth. Then Sir Ector de Maris smote Sir\nGareth so hard that down he fell off his horse. And the noble King\nArthur encountered with Sir Dinadan, and he smote him quite from his\nsaddle. And then the noise turned awhile how the green knights were\nslain down.\nWhen the King of Northgalis saw that Sir Tristram had a fall, then he\nremembered him how great deeds of arms Sir Tristram had done. Then he\nmade ready many knights, for the custom and cry was such, that what\nknight were smitten down, and might not be horsed again by his fellows,\nouther by his own strength, that as that day he should be prisoner unto\nthe party that had smitten him down. So came in the King of Northgalis,\nand he rode straight unto Sir Tristram; and when he came nigh him he\nalighted down suddenly and betook Sir Tristram his horse, and said\nthus: Noble knight, I know thee not of what country that thou art, but\nfor the noble deeds that thou hast done this day take there my horse,\nand let me do as well I may; for, as Jesu me help, thou art better\nworthy to have mine horse than I myself. Gramercy, said Sir Tristram,\nand if I may I shall quite you: look that ye go not far from us, and as\nI suppose, I shall win you another horse. And therewith Sir Tristram\nmounted upon his horse, and there he met with King Arthur, and he gave\nhim such a buffet upon the helm with his sword that King Arthur had no\npower to keep his saddle. And then Sir Tristram gave the King of\nNorthgalis King Arthur\u2019s horse: then was there great press about King\nArthur for to horse him again; but Sir Palomides would not suffer King\nArthur to be horsed again, but ever Sir Palomides smote on the right\nhand and on the left hand mightily as a noble knight. And this\nmeanwhile Sir Tristram rode through the thickest of the press, and\nsmote down knights on the right hand and on the left hand, and raced\noff helms, and so passed forth unto his pavilions, and left Sir\nPalomides on foot; and Sir Tristram changed his horse and disguised\nhimself all in red, horse and harness.\nCHAPTER LXX. How Sir Tristram changed his harness and it was all red,\nand how he demeaned him, and how Sir Palomides slew Launcelot\u2019s horse.\nAnd when the queen La Beale Isoud saw that Sir Tristram was unhorsed,\nand she wist not where he was, then she wept greatly. But Sir Tristram,\nwhen he was ready, came dashing lightly into the field, and then La\nBeale Isoud espied him. And so he did great deeds of arms; with one\nspear, that was great, Sir Tristram smote down five knights or ever he\nstint. Then Sir Launcelot espied him readily, that it was Sir Tristram,\nand then he repented him that he had smitten him down; and so Sir\nLauncelot went out of the press to repose him and lightly he came\nagain. And now when Sir Tristram came into the press, through his great\nforce he put Sir Palomides upon his horse, and Sir Gareth, and Sir\nDinadan, and then they began to do marvellously; but Sir Palomides nor\nnone of his two fellows knew not who had holpen them on horseback\nagain. But ever Sir Tristram was nigh them and succoured them, and they\n[knew] not him, because he was changed into red armour: and all this\nwhile Sir Launcelot was away.\nSo when La Beale Isoud knew Sir Tristram again upon his horse-back she\nwas passing glad, and then she laughed and made good cheer. And as it\nhappened, Sir Palomides looked up toward her where she lay in the\nwindow, and he espied how she laughed; and therewith he took such a\nrejoicing that he smote down, what with his spear and with his sword,\nall that ever he met; for through the sight of her he was so enamoured\nin her love that he seemed at that time, that an both Sir Tristram and\nSir Launcelot had been both against him they should have won no worship\nof him; and in his heart, as the book saith, Sir Palomides wished that\nwith his worship he might have ado with Sir Tristram before all men,\nbecause of La Beale Isoud. Then Sir Palomides began to double his\nstrength, and he did so marvellously that all men had wonder of him,\nand ever he cast up his eye unto La Beale Isoud. And when he saw her\nmake such cheer he fared like a lion, that there might no man withstand\nhim; and then Sir Tristram beheld him, how that Sir Palomides bestirred\nhim; and then he said unto Sir Dinadan: So God me help, Sir Palomides\nis a passing good knight and a well enduring, but such deeds saw I him\nnever do, nor never heard I tell that ever he did so much in one day.\nIt is his day, said Dinadan; and he would say no more unto Sir\nTristram; but to himself he said: An if ye knew for whose love he doth\nall those deeds of arms, soon would Sir Tristram abate his courage.\nAlas, said Sir Tristram, that Sir Palomides is not christened. So said\nKing Arthur, and so said all those that beheld him. Then all people\ngave him the prize, as for the best knight that day, that he passed Sir\nLauncelot outher Sir Tristram. Well, said Dinadan to himself, all this\nworship that Sir Palomides hath here this day he may thank the Queen\nIsoud, for had she been away this day Sir Palomides had not gotten the\nprize this day.\nRight so came into the field Sir Launcelot du Lake, and saw and heard\nthe noise and cry and the great worship that Sir Palomides had. He\ndressed him against Sir Palomides, with a great mighty spear and a\nlong, and thought to smite him down. And when Sir Palomides saw Sir\nLauncelot come upon him so fast, he ran upon Sir Launcelot as fast with\nhis sword as he might; and as Sir Launcelot should have stricken him he\nsmote his spear aside, and smote it a-two with his sword. And Sir\nPalomides rushed unto Sir Launcelot, and thought to have put him to a\nshame; and with his sword he smote his horse\u2019s neck that Sir Launcelot\nrode upon, and then Sir Launcelot fell to the earth. Then was the cry\nhuge and great: See how Sir Palomides the Saracen hath smitten down Sir\nLauncelot\u2019s horse. Right then were there many knights wroth with Sir\nPalomides because he had done that deed; therefore many knights held\nthere against that it was unknightly done in a tournament to kill an\nhorse wilfully, but that it had been done in plain battle, life for\nlife.\nCHAPTER LXXI. How Sir Launcelot said to Sir Palomides, and how the\nprize of that day was given unto Sir Palomides.\nWhen Sir Ector de Maris saw Sir Launcelot his brother have such a\ndespite, and so set on foot, then he gat a spear eagerly, and ran\nagainst Sir Palomides, and he smote him so hard that he bare him quite\nfrom his horse. That saw Sir Tristram, that was in red harness, and he\nsmote down Sir Ector de Maris quite from his horse. Then Sir Launcelot\ndressed his shield upon his shoulder, and with his sword naked in his\nhand, and so came straight upon Sir Palomides fiercely and said: Wit\nthou well thou hast done me this day the greatest despite that ever any\nworshipful knight did to me in tournament or in jousts, and therefore I\nwill be avenged upon thee, therefore take keep to yourself. Ah, mercy,\nnoble knight, said Palomides, and forgive me mine unkindly deeds, for I\nhave no power nor might to withstand you, and I have done so much this\nday that well I wot I did never so much, nor never shall in my\nlife-days; and therefore, most noble knight, I require thee spare me as\nat this day, and I promise you I shall ever be your knight while I\nlive: an ye put me from my worship now, ye put me from the greatest\nworship that ever I had or ever shall have in my life-days. Well, said\nSir Launcelot, I see, for to say thee sooth, ye have done marvellously\nwell this day; and I understand a part for whose love ye do it, and\nwell I wot that love is a great mistress. And if my lady were here as\nshe nis not, wit you well, said Sir Launcelot, ye should not bear away\nthe worship. But beware your love be not discovered, for an Sir\nTristram may know it ye will repent it; and sithen my quarrel is not\nhere, ye shall have this day the worship as for me; considering the\ngreat travail and pain that ye have had this day, it were no worship\nfor me to put you from it. And therewithal Sir Launcelot suffered Sir\nPalomides to depart.\nThen Sir Launcelot by great force and might gat his own horse maugre\ntwenty knights. So when Sir Launcelot was horsed he did many marvels,\nand so did Sir Tristram, and Sir Palomides in like wise. Then Sir\nLauncelot smote down with a spear Sir Dinadan, and the King of\nScotland, and the King of Wales, and the King of Northumberland, and\nthe King of Listinoise. So then Sir Launcelot and his fellows smote\ndown well a forty knights. Then came the King of Ireland and the King\nof the Straight Marches to rescue Sir Tristram and Sir Palomides. There\nbegan a great medley, and many knights were smitten down on both\nparties; and always Sir Launcelot spared Sir Tristram, and he spared\nhim. And Sir Palomides would not meddle with Sir Launcelot, and so\nthere was hurtling here and there. And then King Arthur sent out many\nknights of the Table Round; and Sir Palomides was ever in the foremost\nfront, and Sir Tristram did so strongly well that the king and all\nother had marvel. And then the king let blow to lodging; and because\nSir Palomides began first, and never he went nor rode out of the field\nto repose, but ever he was doing marvellously well either on foot or on\nhorseback, and longest during, King Arthur and all the kings gave Sir\nPalomides the honour and the gree as for that day.\nThen Sir Tristram commanded Sir Dinadan to fetch the queen La Beale\nIsoud, and bring her to his two pavilions that stood by the well. And\nso Dinadan did as he was commanded. But when Sir Palomides understood\nand wist that Sir Tristram was in the red armour, and on a red horse,\nwit ye well that he was glad, and so was Sir Gareth and Sir Dinadan,\nfor they all weened that Sir Tristram had been taken prisoner. And then\nevery knight drew to his inn. And then King Arthur and every knight\nspake of those knights; but above all men they gave Sir Palomides the\nprize, and all knights that knew Sir Palomides had wonder of his deeds.\nSir, said Sir Launcelot unto Arthur, as for Sir Palomides an he be the\ngreen knight I dare say as for this day he is best worthy to have the\ndegree, for he reposed him never, nor never changed his weeds, and he\nbegan first and longest held on. And yet, well I wot, said Sir\nLauncelot, that there was a better knight than he, and that shall be\nproved or we depart, upon pain of my life. Thus they talked on either\nparty; and so Sir Dinadan railed with Sir Tristram and said: What the\ndevil is upon thee this day? for Sir Palomides\u2019 strength feebled never\nthis day, but ever he doubled his strength.\nCHAPTER LXXII. How Sir Dinadan provoked Sir Tristram to do well.\nAnd thou, Sir Tristram, farest all this day as though thou hadst been\nasleep, and therefore I call thee coward. Well, Dinadan, said Sir\nTristram, I was never called coward or now of no earthly knight in my\nlife; and wit thou well, sir, I call myself never the more coward\nthough Sir Launcelot gave me a fall, for I outcept him of all knights.\nAnd doubt ye not Sir Dinadan, an Sir Launcelot have a quarrel good, he\nis too over good for any knight that now is living; and yet of his\nsufferance, largess, bounty, and courtesy, I call him knight peerless:\nand so Sir Tristram was in manner wroth with Sir Dinadan. But all this\nlanguage Sir Dinadan said because he would anger Sir Tristram, for to\ncause him to awake his spirits and to be wroth; for well knew Sir\nDinadan that an Sir Tristram were thoroughly wroth Sir Palomides should\nnot get the prize upon the morn. And for this intent Sir Dinadan said\nall this railing and language against Sir Tristram. Truly, said Sir\nPalomides, as for Sir Launcelot, of his noble knighthood, courtesy, and\nprowess, and gentleness, I know not his peer; for this day, said Sir\nPalomides, I did full uncourteously unto Sir Launcelot, and full\nunknightly, and full knightly and courteously he did to me again; for\nan he had been as ungentle to me as I was to him, this day I had won no\nworship. And therefore, said Palomides, I shall be Sir Launcelot\u2019s\nknight while my life lasteth. This talking was in the houses of kings.\nBut all kings, lords, and knights, said, of clear knighthood, and of\npure strength, of bounty, of courtesy, Sir Launcelot and Sir Tristram\nbare the prize above all knights that ever were in Arthur\u2019s days. And\nthere were never knights in Arthur\u2019s days did half so many deeds as\nthey did; as the book saith, no ten knights did not half the deeds that\nthey did, and there was never knight in their days that required Sir\nLauncelot or Sir Tristram of any quest, so it were not to their shame,\nbut they performed their desire.\nCHAPTER LXXIII. How King Arthur and Sir Lancelot came to see La Beale\nIsoud, and how Palomides smote down King Arthur.\nSo on the morn Sir Launcelot departed, and Sir Tristram was ready, and\nLa Beale Isoud with Sir Palomides and Sir Gareth. And so they rode all\nin green full freshly beseen unto the forest. And Sir Tristram left Sir\nDinadan sleeping in his bed. And so as they rode it happed the king and\nLauncelot stood in a window, and saw Sir Tristram ride and Isoud. Sir,\nsaid Launcelot, yonder rideth the fairest lady of the world except your\nqueen, Dame Guenever. Who is that? said Sir Arthur. Sir, said he, it is\nQueen Isoud that, out-taken my lady your queen, she is makeless. Take\nyour horse, said Arthur, and array you at all rights as I will do, and\nI promise you, said the king, I will see her. Then anon they were armed\nand horsed, and either took a spear and rode unto the forest. Sir, said\nLauncelot, it is not good that ye go too nigh them, for wit ye well\nthere are two as good knights as now are living, and therefore, sir, I\npray you be not too hasty. For peradventure there will be some knights\nbe displeased an we come suddenly upon them. As for that, said Arthur,\nI will see her, for I take no force whom I grieve. Sir, said Launcelot,\nye put yourself in great jeopardy. As for that, said the king, we will\ntake the adventure. Right so anon the king rode even to her, and\nsaluted her, and said: God you save. Sir, said she, ye are welcome.\nThen the king beheld her, and liked her wonderly well.\nWith that came Sir Palomides unto Arthur, and said: Uncourteous knight,\nwhat seekest thou here? thou art uncourteous to come upon a lady thus\nsuddenly, therefore withdraw thee. Sir Arthur took none heed of Sir\nPalomides\u2019 words, but ever he looked still upon Queen Isoud. Then was\nSir Palomides wroth, and therewith he took a spear, and came hurtling\nupon King Arthur, and smote him down with a spear. When Sir Launcelot\nsaw that despite of Sir Palomides, he said to himself: I am loath to\nhave ado with yonder knight, and not for his own sake but for Sir\nTristram. And one thing I am sure of, if I smite down Sir Palomides I\nmust have ado with Sir Tristram, and that were overmuch for me to match\nthem both, for they are two noble knights; notwithstanding, whether I\nlive or I die, needs must I revenge my lord, and so will I, whatsomever\nbefall of me. And therewith Sir Launcelot cried to Sir Palomides: Keep\nthee from me. And then Sir Launcelot and Sir Palomides rushed together\nwith two spears strongly, but Sir Launcelot smote Sir Palomides so hard\nthat he went quite out of his saddle, and had a great fall. When Sir\nTristram saw Sir Palomides have that fall, he said to Sir Launcelot:\nSir knight, keep thee, for I must joust with thee. As for to joust with\nme, said Sir Launcelot, I will not fail you, for no dread I have of\nyou; but I am loath to have ado with you an I might choose, for I will\nthat ye wit that I must revenge my special lord that was unhorsed\nunwarly and unknightly. And therefore, though I revenged that fall,\ntake ye no displeasure therein, for he is to me such a friend that I\nmay not see him shamed.\nAnon Sir Tristram understood by his person and by his knightly words\nthat it was Sir Launcelot du Lake, and verily Sir Tristram deemed that\nit was King Arthur, he that Sir Palomides had smitten down. And then\nSir Tristram put his spear from him, and put Sir Palomides again on\nhorseback, and Sir Launcelot put King Arthur on horseback and so\ndeparted. So God me help, said Sir Tristram unto Palomides, ye did not\nworshipfully when ye smote down that knight so suddenly as ye did. And\nwit ye well ye did yourself great shame, for the knights came hither of\ntheir gentleness to see a fair lady; and that is every good knight\u2019s\npart, to behold a fair lady; and ye had not ado to play such masteries\nafore my lady. Wit thou well it will turn to anger, for he that ye\nsmote down was King Arthur, and that other was the good knight Sir\nLauncelot. But I shall not forget the words of Sir Launcelot when that\nhe called him a man of great worship, thereby I wist that it was King\nArthur. And as for Sir Launcelot, an there had been five hundred\nknights in the meadow, he would not have refused them, and yet he said\nhe would refuse me. By that again I wist that it was Sir Launcelot, for\never he forbeareth me in every place, and showeth me great kindness;\nand of all knights, I out-take none, say what men will say, he beareth\nthe flower of all chivalry, say it him whosomever will. An he be well\nangered, and that him list to do his utterance without any favour, I\nknow him not alive but Sir Launcelot is over hard for him, be it on\nhorseback or on foot. I may never believe, said Palomides, that King\nArthur will ride so privily as a poor errant knight. Ah, said Sir\nTristram, ye know not my lord Arthur, for all knights may learn to be a\nknight of him. And therefore ye may be sorry, said Sir Tristram, of\nyour unkindly deeds to so noble a king. And a thing that is done may\nnot be undone, said Palomides. Then Sir Tristram sent Queen Isoud unto\nher lodging in the priory, there to behold all the tournament.\nCHAPTER LXXIV. How the second day Palomides forsook Sir Tristram, and\nwent to the contrary part against him.\nThen there was a cry unto all knights, that when they heard an horn\nblow they should make jousts as they did the first day. And like as the\nbrethren Sir Edward and Sir Sadok began the jousts the first day, Sir\nUwaine the king\u2019s son Urien and Sir Lucanere de Buttelere began the\njousts the second day. And at the first encounter\nSir Uwaine smote down the King\u2019s son of Scots; and Sir Lucanere ran\nagainst the King of Wales, and they brake their spears all to pieces;\nand they were so fierce both, that they hurtled together that both fell\nto the earth. Then they of Orkney horsed again Sir Lucanere. And then\ncame in Sir Tristram de Liones; and then Sir Tristram smote down Sir\nUwaine and Sir Lucanere; and Sir Palomides smote down other two knights\nand Sir Gareth smote down other two knights. Then said Sir Arthur unto\nSir Launcelot: See yonder three knights do passingly well, and namely\nthe first that jousted. Sir, said Launcelot, that knight began not yet\nbut ye shall see him this day do marvellously. And then came into the\nplace the duke\u2019s son of Orkney, and then they began to do many deeds of\narms.\nWhen Sir Tristram saw them so begin, he said to Palomides: How feel ye\nyourself? may ye do this day as ye did yesterday? Nay, said Palomides,\nI feel myself so weary, and so sore bruised of the deeds of yesterday,\nthat I may not endure as I did yesterday. That me repenteth, said Sir\nTristram, for I shall lack you this day. Sir Palomides said: Trust not\nto me, for I may not do as I did. All these words said Palomides for to\nbeguile Sir Tristram. Sir, said Sir Tristram unto Sir Gareth, then must\nI trust upon you; wherefore I pray you be not far from me to rescue me.\nAn need be, said Sir Gareth, I shall not fail you in all that I may do.\nThen Sir Palomides rode by himself; and then in despite of Sir Tristram\nhe put himself in the thickest press among them of Orkney, and there he\ndid so marvellously deeds of arms that all men had wonder of him, for\nthere might none stand him a stroke.\nWhen Sir Tristram saw Sir Palomides do such deeds, he marvelled and\nsaid to himself: He is weary of my company. So Sir Tristram beheld him\na great while and did but little else, for the noise and cry was so\nhuge and great that Sir Tristram marvelled from whence came the\nstrength that Sir Palomides had there in the field. Sir, said Sir\nGareth unto Sir Tristram, remember ye not of the words that Sir Dinadan\nsaid to you yesterday, when he called you a coward; forsooth, sir, he\nsaid it for none ill, for ye are the man in the world that he most\nloveth, and all that he said was for your worship. And therefore, said\nSir Gareth to Sir Tristram, let me know this day what ye be; and wonder\nye not so upon Sir Palomides, for he enforceth himself to win all the\nworship and honour from you. I may well believe it, said Sir Tristram.\nAnd sithen I understand his evil will and his envy, ye shall see, if\nthat I enforce myself, that the noise shall be left that now is upon\nhim.\nThen Sir Tristram rode into the thickest of the press, and then he did\nso marvellously well, and did so great deeds of arms, that all men said\nthat Sir Tristram did double so much deeds of arms as Sir Palomides had\ndone aforehand. And then the noise went plain from Sir Palomides, and\nall the people cried upon Sir Tristram. O Jesu, said the people, see\nhow Sir Tristram smiteth down with his spear so many knights. And see,\nsaid they all, how many knights he smiteth down with his sword, and of\nhow many knights he rashed off their helms and their shields; and so he\nbeat them all of Orkney afore him. How now, said Sir Launcelot unto\nKing Arthur, I told you that this day there would a knight play his\npageant. Yonder rideth a knight ye may see he doth knightly, for he\nhath strength and wind. So God me help, said Arthur to Launcelot, ye\nsay sooth, for I saw never a better knight, for he passeth far Sir\nPalomides. Sir, wit ye well, said Launcelot, it must be so of right,\nfor it is himself, that noble knight Sir Tristram. I may right well\nbelieve it, said Arthur.\nBut when Sir Palomides heard the noise and the cry was turned from him,\nhe rode out on a part and beheld Sir Tristram. And when Sir Palomides\nsaw Sir Tristram do so marvellously well he wept passingly sore for\ndespite, for he wist well he should no worship win that day; for well\nknew Sir Palomides, when Sir Tristram would put forth his strength and\nhis manhood, be should get but little worship that day.\nCHAPTER LXXV. How Sir Tristram departed of the field, and awaked Sir\nDinadan, and changed his array into black.\nThen came King Arthur, and the King of Northgalis, and Sir Launcelot du\nLake; and Sir Bleoberis, Sir Bors de Ganis, Sir Ector de Maris, these\nthree knights came into the field with Sir Launcelot. And then Sir\nLauncelot with the three knights of his kin did so great deeds of arms\nthat all the noise began upon Sir Launcelot. And so they beat the King\nof Wales and the King of Scots far aback, and made them to avoid the\nfield; but Sir Tristram and Sir Gareth abode still in the field and\nendured all that ever there came, that all men had wonder that any\nknight might endure so many strokes. But ever Sir Launcelot, and his\nthree kinsmen by the commandment of Sir Launcelot, forbare Sir\nTristram. Then said Sir Arthur: Is that Sir Palomides that endureth so\nwell? Nay, said Sir Launcelot, wit ye well it is the good knight Sir\nTristram, for yonder ye may see Sir Palomides beholdeth and hoveth, and\ndoth little or nought. And sir, ye shall understand that Sir Tristram\nweeneth this day to beat us all out of the field. And as for me, said\nSir Launcelot, I shall not beat him, beat him whoso will. Sir, said\nLauncelot unto Arthur, ye may see how Sir Palomides hoveth yonder, as\nthough he were in a dream; wit ye well he is full heavy that Tristram\ndoth such deeds of arms. Then is he but a fool, said Arthur, for never\nwas Sir Palomides, nor never shall be, of such prowess as Sir Tristram.\nAnd if he have any envy at Sir Tristram, and cometh in with him upon\nhis side he is a false knight.\nAs the king and Sir Launcelot thus spake, Sir Tristram rode privily out\nof the press, that none espied him but La Beale Isoud and Sir\nPalomides, for they two would not let off their eyes upon Sir Tristram.\nAnd when Sir Tristram came to his pavilions he found Sir Dinadan in his\nbed asleep. Awake, said Tristram, ye ought to be ashamed so to sleep\nwhen knights have ado in the field. Then Sir Dinadan arose lightly and\nsaid: What will ye that I shall do? Make you ready, said Sir Tristram,\nto ride with me into the field. So when Sir Dinadan was armed he looked\nupon Sir Tristram\u2019s helm and on his shield, and when he saw so many\nstrokes upon his helm and upon his shield he said: In good time was I\nthus asleep, for had I been with you I must needs for shame there have\nfollowed you; more for shame than any prowess that is in me; that I see\nwell now by those strokes that I should have been truly beaten as I was\nyesterday. Leave your japes, said Sir Tristram, and come off, that [we]\nwere in the field again. What, said Sir Dinadan, is your heart up?\nyesterday ye fared as though ye had dreamed. So then Sir Tristram was\narrayed in black harness. O Jesu, said Dinadan, what aileth you this\nday? meseemeth ye be wilder than ye were yesterday. Then smiled Sir\nTristram and said to Dinadan: Await well upon me; if ye see me\novermatched look that ye be ever behind me, and I shall make you ready\nway by God\u2019s grace. So Sir Tristram and Sir Dinadan took their horses.\nAll this espied Sir Palomides, both their going and their coming, and\nso did La Beale Isoud, for she knew Sir Tristram above all other.\nCHAPTER LXXVI. How Sir Palomides changed his shield and his armour for\nto hurt Sir Tristram, and how Sir Launcelot did to Sir Tristram.\nThen when Sir Palomides saw that Sir Tristram was disguised, then he\nthought to do him a shame. So Sir Palomides rode to a knight that was\nsore wounded, that sat under a fair well from the field. Sir knight,\nsaid Sir Palomides, I pray you to lend me your armour and your shield,\nfor mine is over-well known in this field, and that hath done me great\ndamage; and ye shall have mine armour and my shield that is as sure as\nyours. I will well, said the knight, that ye have mine armour and my\nshield, if they may do you any avail. So Sir Palomides armed him\nhastily in that knight\u2019s armour and his shield that shone as any\ncrystal or silver, and so he came riding into the field. And then there\nwas neither Sir Tristram nor none of King Arthur\u2019s party that knew Sir\nPalomides. And right so as Sir Palomides was come into the field Sir\nTristram smote down three knights, even in the sight of Sir Palomides.\nAnd then Sir Palomides rode against Sir Tristram, and either met other\nwith great spears, that they brast to their hands. And then they dashed\ntogether with swords eagerly. Then Sir Tristram had marvel what knight\nhe was that did battle so knightly with him. Then was Sir Tristram\nwroth, for he felt him passing strong, so that he deemed he might not\nhave ado with the remnant of the knights, because of the strength of\nSir Palomides. So they lashed together and gave many sad strokes\ntogether, and many knights marvelled what knight he might be that so\nencountered with the black knight, Sir Tristram. Full well knew La\nBeale Isoud that there was Sir Palomides that fought with Sir Tristram,\nfor she espied all in her window where that she stood, as Sir Palomides\nchanged his harness with the wounded knight. And then she began to weep\nso heartily for the despite of Sir Palomides that there she swooned.\nThen came in Sir Launcelot with the knights of Orkney. And when the\nother party had espied Sir Launcelot, they cried: Return, return, here\ncometh Sir Launcelot du Lake. So there came knights and said: Sir\nLauncelot, ye must needs fight with yonder knight in the black harness,\nthat was Sir Tristram, for he hath almost overcome that good knight\nthat fighteth with him with the silver shield, that was Sir Palomides.\nThen Sir Launcelot rode betwixt Sir Tristram and Sir Palomides, and Sir\nLauncelot said to Palomides: Sir knight, let me have the battle, for ye\nhave need to be reposed. Sir Palomides knew Sir Launcelot well, and so\ndid Sir Tristram, but because Sir Launcelot was far hardier knight than\nhimself therefore he was glad, and suffered Sir Launcelot to fight with\nSir Tristram. For well wist he that Sir Launcelot knew not Sir\nTristram, and there he hoped that Sir Launcelot should beat or shame\nSir Tristram, whereof Sir Palomides was full fain. And so Sir Launcelot\ngave Sir Tristram many sad strokes, but Sir Launcelot knew not Sir\nTristram, but Sir Tristram knew well Sir Launcelot. And thus they\nfought long together, that La Beale Isoud was well-nigh out of her mind\nfor sorrow.\nThen Sir Dinadan told Sir Gareth how that knight in the black harness\nwas Sir Tristram: And this is Launcelot that fighteth with him, that\nmust needs have the better of him, for Sir Tristram hath had too much\ntravail this day. Then let us smite him down, said Sir Gareth. So it is\nbetter that we do, said Sir Dinadan, than Sir Tristram be shamed, for\nyonder hoveth the strong knight with the silver shield to fall upon Sir\nTristram if need be. Then forthwithal Gareth rushed upon Sir Launcelot,\nand gave him a great stroke upon his helm so hard that he was astonied.\nAnd then came Sir Dinadan with a spear, and he smote Sir Launcelot such\na buffet that horse and all fell to the earth. O Jesu, said Sir\nTristram to Sir Gareth and Sir Dinadan, fie for shame, why did ye smite\ndown so good a knight as he is, and namely when I had ado with him? now\nye do yourself great shame, and him no disworship; for I held him\nreasonable hot, though ye had not holpen me.\nThen came Sir Palomides that was disguised, and smote down Sir Dinadan\nfrom his horse. Then Sir Launcelot, because Sir Dinadan had smitten him\naforehand, then Sir Launcelot assailed Sir Dinadan passing sore, and\nSir Dinadan defended him mightily. But well understood Sir Tristram\nthat Sir Dinadan might not endure Sir Launcelot, wherefore Sir Tristram\nwas sorry. Then came Sir Palomides fresh upon Sir Tristram. And when\nSir Tristram saw him come, he thought to deliver him at once, because\nthat he would help Sir Dinadan, because he stood in great peril with\nSir Launcelot. Then Sir Tristram hurtled unto Sir Palomides and gave\nhim a great buffet, and then Sir Tristram gat Sir Palomides and pulled\nhim down underneath him. And so fell Sir Tristram with him; and Sir\nTristram leapt up lightly and left Sir Palomides, and went betwixt Sir\nLauncelot and Dinadan, and then they began to do battle together.\nRight so Sir Dinadan gat Sir Tristram\u2019s horse, and said on high that\nSir Launcelot might hear it: My lord Sir Tristram, take your horse. And\nwhen Sir Launcelot heard him name Sir Tristram: O Jesu, said Launcelot,\nwhat have I done? I am dishonoured. Ah, my lord Sir Tristram, said\nLauncelot, why were ye disguised? ye have put yourself in great peril\nthis day; but I pray you noble knight to pardon me, for an I had known\nyou we had not done this battle. Sir, said Sir Tristram, this is not\nthe first kindness ye showed me. So they were both horsed again.\nThen all the people on the one side gave Sir Launcelot the honour and\nthe degree, and on the other side all the people gave to the noble\nknight Sir Tristram the honour and the degree; but Launcelot said nay\nthereto: For I am not worthy to have this honour, for I will report me\nunto all knights that Sir Tristram hath been longer in the field than\nI, and he hath smitten down many more knights this day than I have\ndone. And therefore I will give Sir Tristram my voice and my name, and\nso I pray all my lords and fellows so to do. Then there was the whole\nvoice of dukes and earls, barons and knights, that Sir Tristram this\nday is proved the best knight.\nCHAPTER LXXVII. How Sir Tristram departed with La Beale Isoud, and how\nPalomides followed and excused him.\nThen they blew unto lodging, and Queen Isoud was led unto her\npavilions. But wit you well she was wroth out of measure with Sir\nPalomides, for she saw all his treason from the beginning to the\nending. And all this while neither Sir Tristram, neither Sir Gareth nor\nDinadan, knew not of the treason of Sir Palomides; but afterward ye\nshall hear that there befell the greatest debate betwixt Sir Tristram\nand Sir Palomides that might be.\nSo when the tournament was done, Sir Tristram, Gareth, and Dinadan,\nrode with La Beale Isoud to these pavilions. And ever Sir Palomides\nrode with them in their company disguised as he was. But when Sir\nTristram had espied him that he was the same knight with the shield of\nsilver that held him so hot that day: Sir knight, said Sir Tristram,\nwit ye well here is none that hath need of your fellowship, and\ntherefore I pray you depart from us. Sir Palomides answered again as\nthough he had not known Sir Tristram: Wit you well, sir knight, from\nthis fellowship will I never depart, for one of the best knights of the\nworld commanded me to be in this company, and till he discharge me of\nmy service I will not be discharged. By that Sir Tristram knew that it\nwas Sir Palomides. Ah, Sir Palomides, said the noble knight Sir\nTristram, are ye such a knight? Ye have been named wrong, for ye have\nlong been called a gentle knight, and as this day ye have showed me\ngreat ungentleness, for ye had almost brought me unto my death. But, as\nfor you, I suppose I should have done well enough, but Sir Launcelot\nwith you was overmuch; for I know no knight living but Sir Launcelot is\nover good for him, an he will do his uttermost. Alas, said Sir\nPalomides, are ye my lord Sir Tristram? Yea, sir, and that ye know well\nenough. By my knighthood, said Palomides, until now I knew you not; I\nweened that ye had been the King of Ireland, for well I wot ye bare his\narms. His arms I bare, said Sir Tristram, and that will I stand by, for\nI won them once in a field of a full noble knight, his name was Sir\nMarhaus; and with great pain I won that knight, for there was none\nother recover, but Sir Marhaus died through false leeches; and yet was\nhe never yolden to me. Sir, said Palomides, I weened ye had been turned\nupon Sir Launcelot\u2019s party, and that caused me to turn. Ye say well,\nsaid Sir Tristram, and so I take you, and I forgive you.\nSo then they rode into their pavilions; and when they were alighted\nthey unarmed them and washed their faces and hands, and so yode unto\nmeat, and were set at their table. But when Isoud saw Sir Palomides she\nchanged then her colours, and for wrath she might not speak. Anon Sir\nTristram espied her countenance and said: Madam, for what cause make ye\nus such cheer? we have been sore travailed this day. Mine own lord,\nsaid La Beale Isoud, for God\u2019s sake be ye not displeased with me, for I\nmay none otherwise do; for I saw this day how ye were betrayed and nigh\nbrought to your death. Truly, sir, I saw every deal, how and in what\nwise, and therefore, sir, how should I suffer in your presence such a\nfelon and traitor as Sir Palomides; for I saw him with mine eyes, how\nhe beheld you when ye went out of the field. For ever he hoved still\nupon his horse till he saw you come in againward. And then forthwithal\nI saw him ride to the hurt knight, and changed harness with him, and\nthen straight I saw him how he rode into the field. And anon as he had\nfound you he encountered with you, and thus wilfully Sir Palomides did\nbattle with you; and as for him, sir, I was not greatly afraid, but I\ndread sore Launcelot, that knew you not. Madam, said Palomides, ye may\nsay whatso ye will, I may not contrary you, but by my knighthood I knew\nnot Sir Tristram. Sir Palomides, said Sir Tristram, I will take your\nexcuse, but well I wot ye spared me but little, but all is pardoned on\nmy part. Then La Beale Isoud held down her head and said no more at\nthat time.\nCHAPTER LXXVIII. How King Arthur and Sir Launcelot came unto their\npavilions as they sat at supper, and of Sir Palomides.\nAnd therewithal two knights armed came unto the pavilion, and there\nthey alighted both, and came in armed at all pieces. Fair knights, said\nSir Tristram, ye are to blame to come thus armed at all pieces upon me\nwhile we are at our meat; if ye would anything when we were in the\nfield there might ye have eased your hearts. Not so, said the one of\nthose knights, we come not for that intent, but wit ye well Sir\nTristram, we be come hither as your friends. And I am come here, said\nthe one, for to see you, and this knight is come for to see La Beale\nIsoud. Then said Sir Tristram: I require you do off your helms that I\nmay see you. That will we do at your desire, said the knights. And when\ntheir helms were off, Sir Tristram thought that he should know them.\nThen said Sir Dinadan privily unto Sir Tristram: Sir, that is Sir\nLauncelot du Lake that spake unto you first, and the other is my lord\nKing Arthur. Then, said Sir Tristram unto La Beale Isoud, Madam arise,\nfor here is my lord, King Arthur. Then the king and the queen kissed,\nand Sir Launcelot and Sir Tristram braced either other in arms, and\nthen there was joy without measure; and at the request of La Beale\nIsoud, King Arthur and Launcelot were unarmed, and then there was merry\ntalking. Madam, said Sir Arthur, it is many a day sithen that I have\ndesired to see you, for ye have been praised so far; and now I dare say\nye are the fairest that ever I saw, and Sir Tristram is as fair and as\ngood a knight as any that I know; therefore me beseemeth ye are well\nbeset together. Sir, God thank you, said the noble knight, Sir\nTristram, and Isoud; of your great goodness and largess ye are\npeerless. Thus they talked of many things and of all the whole jousts.\nBut for what cause, said King Arthur, were ye, Sir Tristram, against\nus? Ye are a knight of the Table Round; of right ye should have been\nwith us. Sir, said Sir Tristram, here is Dinadan, and Sir Gareth your\nown nephew, caused me to be against you. My lord Arthur, said Gareth, I\nmay well bear the blame, but it were Sir Tristram\u2019s own deeds. That may\nI repent, said Dinadan, for this unhappy Sir Tristram brought us to\nthis tournament, and many great buffets he caused us to have. Then the\nking and Launcelot laughed that they might not sit.\nWhat knight was that, said Arthur, that held you so short, this with\nthe shield of silver? Sir, said Sir Tristram, here he sitteth at this\nboard. What, said Arthur, was it Sir Palomides? Wit ye well it was he,\nsaid La Beale Isoud. So God me help, said Arthur, that was unknightly\ndone of you of so good a knight, for I have heard many people call you\na courteous knight. Sir, said Palomides, I knew not Sir Tristram, for\nhe was so disguised. So God me help, said Launcelot, it may well be,\nfor I knew not Sir Tristram; but I marvel why ye turned on our party.\nThat was done for the same cause, said Launcelot. As for that, said Sir\nTristram, I have pardoned him, and I would be right loath to leave his\nfellowship, for I love right well his company: so they left off and\ntalked of other things.\nAnd in the evening King Arthur and Sir Launcelot departed unto their\nlodging; but wit ye well Sir Palomides had envy heartily, for all that\nnight he had never rest in his bed, but wailed and wept out of measure.\nSo on the morn Sir Tristram, Gareth, and Dinadan arose early, and then\nthey went unto Sir Palomides\u2019 chamber, and there they found him fast\nasleep, for he had all night watched, and it was seen upon his cheeks\nthat he had wept full sore. Say nothing, said Sir Tristram, for I am\nsure he hath taken anger and sorrow for the rebuke that I gave to him,\nand La Beale Isoud.\nCHAPTER LXXIX. How Sir Tristram and Sir Palomides did the next day, and\nhow King Arthur was unhorsed.\nThen Sir Tristram let call Sir Palomides, and bade him make him ready,\nfor it was time to go to the field. When they were ready they were\narmed, and clothed all in red, both Isoud and all they; and so they led\nher passing freshly through the field, into the priory where was her\nlodging. And then they heard three blasts blow, and every king and\nknight dressed him unto the field. And the first that was ready to\njoust was Sir Palomides and Sir Kainus le Strange, a knight of the\nTable Round. And so they two encountered together, but Sir Palomides\nsmote Sir Kainus so hard that he smote him quite over his horse\u2019s\ncroup. And forthwithal Sir Palomides smote down another knight, and\nbrake then his spear, and pulled out his sword and did wonderly well.\nAnd then the noise began greatly upon Sir Palomides. Lo, said King\nArthur, yonder Palomides beginneth to play his pageant. So God me help,\nsaid Arthur, he is a passing good knight. And right as they stood\ntalking thus, in came Sir Tristram as thunder, and he encountered with\nSir Kay the Seneschal, and there he smote him down quite from his\nhorse; and with that same spear Sir Tristram smote down three knights\nmore, and then he pulled out his sword and did marvellously. Then the\nnoise and cry changed from Sir Palomides and turned to Sir Tristram,\nand all the people cried: O Tristram, O Tristram. And then was Sir\nPalomides clean forgotten.\nHow now, said Launcelot unto Arthur, yonder rideth a knight that\nplayeth his pageants. So God me help, said Arthur to Launcelot, ye\nshall see this day that yonder two knights shall here do this day\nwonders. Sir, said Launcelot, the one knight waiteth upon the other,\nand enforceth himself through envy to pass the noble knight Sir\nTristram, and he knoweth not of the privy envy the which Sir Palomides\nhath to him; for all that the noble Sir Tristram doth is through clean\nknighthood. And then Sir Gareth and Dinadan did wonderly great deeds of\narms, as two noble knights, so that King Arthur spake of them great\nhonour and worship; and the kings and knights of Sir Tristram\u2019s side\ndid passingly well, and held them truly together. Then Sir Arthur and\nSir Launcelot took their horses and dressed them, and gat into the\nthickest of the press. And there Sir Tristram unknowing smote down King\nArthur, and then Sir Launcelot would have rescued him, but there were\nso many upon Sir Launcelot that they pulled him down from his horse.\nAnd then the King of Ireland and the King of Scots with their knights\ndid their pain to take King Arthur and Sir Launcelot prisoner. When Sir\nLauncelot heard them say so, he fared as it had been an hungry lion,\nfor he fared so that no knight durst nigh him.\nThen came Sir Ector de Maris, and he bare a spear against Sir\nPalomides, and brast it upon him all to shivers. And then Sir Ector\ncame again and gave Sir Palomides such a dash with a sword that he\nstooped down upon his saddle bow. And forthwithal Sir Ector pulled down\nSir Palomides under his feet; and then Sir Ector de Maris gat Sir\nLauncelot du Lake an horse, and brought it to him, and bade him mount\nupon him; but Sir Palomides leapt afore and gat the horse by the\nbridle, and leapt into the saddle. So God me help, said Launcelot, ye\nare better worthy to have that horse than I. Then Sir Ector brought Sir\nLauncelot another horse. Gramercy, said Launcelot unto his brother. And\nso when he was horsed again, with one spear he smote down four knights.\nAnd then Sir Launcelot brought to King Arthur one of the best of the\nfour horses. Then Sir Launcelot with King Arthur and a few of his\nknights of Sir Launcelot\u2019s kin did marvellous deeds; for that time, as\nthe book recordeth, Sir Launcelot smote down and pulled down thirty\nknights. Notwithstanding the other party held them so fast together\nthat King Arthur and his knights were overmatched. And when Sir\nTristram saw that, what labour King Arthur and his knights, and in\nespecial the noble deeds that Sir Launcelot did with his own hands, he\nmarvelled greatly.\nCHAPTER LXXX. How Sir Tristram turned to King Arthur\u2019s side, and how\nPalomides would not.\nThen Sir Tristram called unto him Sir Palomides, Sir Gareth, and Sir\nDinadan, and said thus to them: My fair fellows, wit ye well that I\nwill turn unto King Arthur\u2019s party, for I saw never so few men do so\nwell, and it will be shame unto us knights that be of the Round Table\nto see our lord King Arthur, and that noble knight Sir Launcelot, to be\ndishonoured. It will be well done, said Sir Gareth and Sir Dinadan. Do\nyour best, said Palomides, for I will not change my party that I came\nin withal. That is for my sake, said Sir Tristram; God speed you in\nyour journey. And so departed Sir Palomides from them. Then Sir\nTristram, Gareth, and Dinadan, turned with Sir Launcelot. And then Sir\nLauncelot smote down the King of Ireland quite from his horse; and so\nSir Launcelot smote down the King of Scots, and the King of Wales; and\nthen Sir Arthur ran unto Sir Palomides and smote him quite from his\nhorse; and then Sir Tristram bare down all that he met. Sir Gareth and\nSir Dinadan did there as noble knights; then all the parties began to\nflee. Alas, said Palomides, that ever I should see this day, for now\nhave I lost all the worship that I won; and then Sir Palomides went his\nway wailing, and so withdrew him till he came to a well, and there he\nput his horse from him, and did off his armour, and wailed and wept\nlike as he had been a wood man. Then many knights gave the prize to Sir\nTristram, and there were many that gave the prize unto Sir Launcelot.\nFair lords, said Sir Tristram, I thank you of the honour ye would give\nme, but I pray you heartily that ye would give your voice to Sir\nLauncelot, for by my faith said Sir Tristram, I will give Sir Launcelot\nmy voice. But Sir Launcelot would not have it, and so the prize was\ngiven betwixt them both.\nThen every man rode to his lodging, and Sir Bleoberis and Sir Ector\nrode with Sir Tristram and La Beale Isoud unto their pavilions. Then as\nSir Palomides was at the well wailing and weeping, there came by him\nflying the kings of Wales and of Scotland, and they saw Sir Palomides\nin that arage. Alas, said they, that so noble a man as ye be should be\nin this array. And then those kings gat Sir Palomides\u2019 horse again, and\nmade him to arm him and mount upon his horse, and so he rode with them,\nmaking great dole. So when Sir Palomides came nigh the pavilions\nthereas Sir Tristram and La Beale Isoud was in, then Sir Palomides\nprayed the two kings to abide him there the while that he spake with\nSir Tristram. And when he came to the port of the pavilions, Sir\nPalomides said on high: Where art thou, Sir Tristram de Liones? Sir,\nsaid Dinadan, that is Palomides. What, Sir Palomides, will ye not come\nin here among us? Fie on thee traitor, said Palomides, for wit you well\nan it were daylight as it is night I should slay thee, mine own hands.\nAnd if ever I may get thee, said Palomides, thou shalt die for this\nday\u2019s deed. Sir Palomides, said Sir Tristram, ye wite me with wrong,\nfor had ye done as I did ye had won worship. But sithen ye give me so\nlarge warning I shall be well ware of you. Fie on thee, traitor, said\nPalomides, and therewith departed.\nThen on the morn Sir Tristram, Bleoberis, and Sir Ector de Maris, Sir\nGareth, Sir Dinadan, what by water and what by land, they brought La\nBeale Isoud unto Joyous Gard, and there reposed them a seven night, and\nmade all the mirths and disports that they could devise. And King\nArthur and his knights drew unto Camelot, and Sir Palomides rode with\nthe two kings; and ever he made the greatest dole that any man could\nthink, for he was not all only so dolorous for the departing from La\nBeale Isoud, but he was a part as sorrowful to depart from the\nfellowship of Sir Tristram; for Sir Tristram was so kind and so gentle\nthat when Sir Palomides remembered him thereof he might never be merry.\nCHAPTER LXXXI. How Sir Bleoberis and Sir Ector reported to Queen\nGuenever of the beauty of La Beale Isoud.\nSo at the seven nights\u2019 end Sir Bleoberis and Sir Ector departed from\nSir Tristram and from the queen; and these two good knights had great\ngifts; and Sir Gareth and Sir Dinadan abode with Sir Tristram. And when\nSir Bleoberis and Sir Ector were come there as the Queen Guenever was\nlodged, in a castle by the seaside, and through the grace of God the\nqueen was recovered of her malady, then she asked the two knights from\nwhence they came. They said that they came from Sir Tristram and from\nLa Beale Isoud. How doth Sir Tristram, said the queen, and La Beale\nIsoud? Truly, said those two knights, he doth as a noble knight should\ndo; and as for the Queen Isoud, she is peerless of all ladies; for to\nspeak of her beauty, bount\u00e9, and mirth, and of her goodness, we saw\nnever her match as far as we have ridden and gone. O mercy Jesu, said\nQueen Guenever, so saith all the people that have seen her and spoken\nwith her. God would that I had part of her conditions; and it is\nmisfortuned me of my sickness while that tournament endured. And as I\nsuppose I shall never see in all my life such an assembly of knights\nand ladies as ye have done.\nThen the knights told her how Palomides won the degree at the first day\nwith great noblesse; and the second day Sir Tristram won the degree;\nand the third day Sir Launcelot won the degree. Well, said Queen\nGuenever, who did best all these three days? So God me help, said these\nknights, Sir Launcelot and Sir Tristram had least dishonour. And wit ye\nwell Sir Palomides did passing well and mightily; but he turned against\nthe party that he came in withal, and that caused him to lose a great\npart of his worship, for it seemed that Sir Palomides is passing\nenvious. Then shall he never win worship, said Queen Guenever, for an\nit happeth an envious man once to win worship he shall be dishonoured\ntwice therefore; and for this cause all men of worship hate an envious\nman, and will shew him no favour, and he that is courteous, and kind,\nand gentle, hath favour in every place.\nCHAPTER LXXXII. How Epinogris complained by a well, and how Sir\nPalomides came and found him, and of their both sorrowing.\nNow leave we of this matter and speak we of Sir Palomides, that rode\nand lodged him with the two kings, whereof the kings were heavy. Then\nthe King of Ireland sent a man of his to Sir Palomides, and gave him a\ngreat courser, and the King of Scotland gave him great gifts; and fain\nthey would have had Sir Palomides to have abiden with them, but in no\nwise he would abide; and so he departed, and rode as adventures would\nguide him, till it was nigh noon. And then in a forest by a well Sir\nPalomides saw where lay a fair wounded knight and his horse bounden by\nhim; and that knight made the greatest dole that ever he heard man\nmake, for ever he wept, and therewith he sighed as though he would die.\nThen Sir Palomides rode near him and saluted him mildly and said: Fair\nknight, why wail ye so? let me lie down and wail with you, for doubt\nnot I am much more heavier than ye are; for I dare say, said Palomides,\nthat my sorrow is an hundred fold more than yours is, and therefore let\nus complain either to other. First, said the wounded knight, I require\nyou tell me your name, for an thou be none of the noble knights of the\nRound Table thou shalt never know my name, whatsomever come of me. Fair\nknight, said Palomides, such as I am, be it better or be it worse, wit\nthou well that my name is Sir Palomides, son and heir unto King\nAstlabor, and Sir Safere and Sir Segwarides are my two brethren; and\nwit thou well as for myself I was never christened, but my two brethren\nare truly christened. O noble knight, said that knight, well is me that\nI have met with you; and wit ye well my name is Epinogris, the king\u2019s\nson of Northumberland. Now sit down, said Epinogris, and let us either\ncomplain to other.\nThen Sir Palomides began his complaint. Now shall I tell you, said\nPalomides, what woe I endure. I love the fairest queen and lady that\never bare life, and wit ye well her name is La Beale Isoud, King Mark\u2019s\nwife of Cornwall. That is great folly, said Epinogris, for to love\nQueen Isoud, for one of the best knights of the world loveth her, that\nis Sir Tristram de Liones. That is truth, said Palomides, for no man\nknoweth that matter better than I do, for I have been in Sir Tristram\u2019s\nfellowship this month, and with La Beale Isoud together; and alas, said\nPalomides, unhappy man that I am, now have I lost the fellowship of Sir\nTristram for ever, and the love of La Beale Isoud for ever, and I am\nnever like to see her more, and Sir Tristram and I be either to other\nmortal enemies. Well, said Epinogris, sith that ye loved La Beale\nIsoud, loved she you ever again by anything that ye could think or wit,\nor else did ye rejoice her ever in any pleasure? Nay, by my knighthood,\nsaid Palomides, I never espied that ever she loved me more than all the\nworld, nor never had I pleasure with her, but the last day she gave me\nthe greatest rebuke that ever I had, the which shall never go from my\nheart. And yet I well deserved that rebuke, for I did not knightly, and\ntherefore I have lost the love of her and of Sir Tristram for ever; and\nI have many times enforced myself to do many deeds for La Beale Isoud\u2019s\nsake, and she was the causer of my worship-winning. Alas, said Sir\nPalomides, now have I lost all the worship that ever I won, for never\nshall me befall such prowess as I had in the fellowship of Sir\nTristram.\nCHAPTER LXXXIII. How Sir Palomides brought Sir Epinogris his lady; and\nhow Sir Palomides and Sir Safere were assailed.\nNay, nay, said Epinogris, your sorrow is but japes to my sorrow; for I\nrejoiced my lady and won her with my hands, and lost her again: alas\nthat day! Thus first I won her, said Epinogris; my lady was an earl\u2019s\ndaughter, and as the earl and two knights came from the tournament of\nLonazep, for her sake I set upon this earl and on his two knights, my\nlady there being present; and so by fortune there I slew the earl and\none of the knights, and the other knight fled, and so that night I had\nmy lady. And on the morn as she and I reposed us at this well-side\nthere came there to me an errant knight, his name was Sir Helior le\nPreuse, an hardy knight, and this Sir Helior challenged me to fight for\nmy lady. And then we went to battle first upon horse and after on foot,\nbut at the last Sir Helior wounded me so that he left me for dead, and\nso he took my lady with him; and thus my sorrow is more than yours, for\nI have rejoiced and ye rejoiced never. That is truth, said Palomides,\nbut sith I can never recover myself I shall promise you if I can meet\nwith Sir Helior I shall get you your lady again, or else he shall beat\nme.\nThen Sir Palomides made Sir Epinogris to take his horse, and so they\nrode to an hermitage, and there Sir Epinogris rested him. And in the\nmeanwhile Sir Palomides walked privily out to rest him under the\nleaves, and there beside he saw a knight come riding with a shield that\nhe had seen Sir Ector de Maris bear beforehand; and there came after\nhim a ten knights, and so these ten knights hoved under the leaves for\nheat. And anon after there came a knight with a green shield and\ntherein a white lion, leading a lady upon a palfrey. Then this knight\nwith the green shield that seemed to be master of the ten knights, he\nrode fiercely after Sir Helior, for it was he that hurt Sir Epinogris.\nAnd when he came nigh Sir Helior he bade him defend his lady. I will\ndefend her, said Helior, unto my power. And so they ran together so\nmightily that either of these knights smote other down, horse and all,\nto the earth; and then they won up lightly and drew their swords and\ntheir shields, and lashed together mightily more than an hour. All this\nSir Palomides saw and beheld, but ever at the last the knight with Sir\nEctor\u2019s shield was bigger, and at the last this knight smote Sir Helior\ndown, and then that knight unlaced his helm to have stricken off his\nhead. And then he cried mercy, and prayed him to save his life, and\nbade him take his lady. Then Sir Palomides dressed him up, because he\nwist well that that same lady was Epinogris\u2019 lady, and he promised him\nto help him.\nThen Sir Palomides went straight to that lady, and took her by the\nhand, and asked her whether she knew a knight that hight Epinogris.\nAlas, she said, that ever he knew me or I him, for I have for his sake\nlost my worship, and also his life grieveth me most of all. Not so,\nlady, said Palomides, come on with me, for here is Epinogris in this\nhermitage. Ah! well is me, said the lady, an he be alive. Whither wilt\nthou with that lady? said the knight with Sir Ector\u2019s shield. I will do\nwith her what me list, said Palomides. Wit you well, said that knight,\nthou speakest over large, though thou seemest me to have at advantage,\nbecause thou sawest me do battle but late. Thou weenest, sir knight, to\nhave that lady away from me so lightly? nay, think it never not; an\nthou were as good a knight as is Sir Launcelot, or as is Sir Tristram,\nor Sir Palomides, but thou shalt win her dearer than ever did I. And so\nthey went unto battle upon foot, and there they gave many sad strokes,\nand either wounded other passing sore, and thus they fought still more\nthan an hour.\nThen Sir Palomides had marvel what knight he might be that was so\nstrong and so well breathed during, and thus said Palomides: Knight, I\nrequire thee tell me thy name. Wit thou well, said that knight, I dare\ntell thee my name, so that thou wilt tell me thy name. I will, said\nPalomides. Truly, said that knight, my name is Safere, son of King\nAstlabor, and Sir Palomides and Sir Segwarides are my brethren. Now,\nand wit thou well, my name is Sir Palomides. Then Sir Safere kneeled\ndown upon his knees, and prayed him of mercy; and then they unlaced\ntheir helms and either kissed other weeping. And in the meanwhile Sir\nEpinogris arose out of his bed, and heard them by the strokes, and so\nhe armed him to help Sir Palomides if need were.\nCHAPTER LXXXIV. How Sir Palomides and Sir Safere conducted Sir\nEpinogris to his castle, and of other adventures.\nThen Sir Palomides took the lady by the hand and brought her to Sir\nEpinogris, and there was great joy betwixt them, for either swooned for\njoy. When they were met: Fair knight and lady, said Sir Safere, it were\npity to depart you; Jesu send you joy either of other. Gramercy, gentle\nknight, said Epinogris; and much more thanks be to my lord Sir\nPalomides, that thus hath through his prowess made me to get my lady.\nThen Sir Epinogris required Sir Palomides and Sir Safere, his brother,\nto ride with them unto his castle, for the safeguard of his person.\nSir, said Palomides, we will be ready to conduct you because that ye\nare sore wounded; and so was Epinogris and his lady horsed, and his\nlady behind him upon a soft ambler. And then they rode unto his castle,\nwhere they had great cheer and joy, as great as ever Sir Palomides and\nSir Safere had in their life-days.\nSo on the morn Sir Safere and Sir Palomides departed, day until after\nnoon. And at the last they heard a great weeping and a great noise down\nin a manor. Sir, said then Sir Safere, let us wit what noise this is. I\nwill well, said Sir Palomides. And so they rode forth till that they\ncame to a fair gate of a manor, and there sat an old man saying his\nprayers and beads. Then Sir Palomides and Sir Safere alighted and left\ntheir horses, and went within the gates, and there they saw full many\ngoodly men weeping. Fair sirs, said Palomides, wherefore weep ye and\nmake this sorrow? Anon one of the knights of the castle beheld Sir\nPalomides and knew him, and then went to his fellows and said: Fair\nfellows, wit ye well all, we have in this castle the same knight that\nslew our lord at Lonazep, for I know him well; it is Sir Palomides.\nThen they went unto harness, all that might bear harness, some on\nhorseback and some on foot, to the number of three score. And when they\nwere ready they came freshly upon Sir Palomides and upon Sir Safere\nwith a great noise, and said thus: Keep thee, Sir Palomides, for thou\nart known, and by right thou must be dead, for thou hast slain our\nlord; and therefore wit ye well we will slay thee, therefore defend\nthee.\nThen Sir Palomides and Sir Safere, the one set his back to the other,\nand gave many great strokes, and took many great strokes; and thus they\nfought with a twenty knights and forty gentlemen and yeomen nigh two\nhours. But at the last though they were loath, Sir Palomides and Sir\nSafere were taken and yolden, and put in a strong prison; and within\nthree days twelve knights passed upon them, and they found Sir\nPalomides guilty, and Sir Safere not guilty, of their lord\u2019s death. And\nwhen Sir Safere should be delivered there was great dole betwixt Sir\nPalomides and him, and many piteous complaints that Sir Safere made at\nhis departing, there is no maker can rehearse the tenth part. Fair\nbrother, said Palomides, let be thy dolour and thy sorrow. And if I be\nordained to die a shameful death, welcome be it; but an I had wist of\nthis death that I am deemed unto, I should never have been yolden. So\nSir Safere departed from his brother with the greatest dolour and\nsorrow that ever made knight.\nAnd on the morn they of the castle ordained twelve knights to ride with\nSir Palomides unto the father of the same knight that Sir Palomides\nslew; and so they bound his legs under an old steed\u2019s belly. And then\nthey rode with Sir Palomides unto a castle by the seaside, that hight\nPelownes, and there Sir Palomides should have justice. Thus was their\nordinance; and so they rode with Sir Palomides fast by the castle of\nJoyous Gard. And as they passed by that castle there came riding out of\nthat castle by them one that knew Sir Palomides. And when that knight\nsaw Sir Palomides bounden upon a crooked courser, the knight asked Sir\nPalomides for what cause he was led so. Ah, my fair fellow and knight,\nsaid Palomides, I ride toward my death for the slaying of a knight at a\ntournament of Lonazep; and if I had not departed from my lord Sir\nTristram, as I ought not to have done, now might I have been sure to\nhave had my life saved; but I pray you, sir knight, recommend me unto\nmy lord, Sir Tristram, and unto my lady, Queen Isoud, and say to them\nif ever I trespassed to them I ask them forgiveness. And also I beseech\nyou recommend me unto my lord, King Arthur, and to all the fellowship\nof the Round Table, unto my power. Then that knight wept for pity of\nSir Palomides; and therewithal he rode unto Joyous Gard as fast as his\nhorse might run, and lightly that knight descended down off his horse\nand went unto Sir Tristram, and there he told him all as ye have heard,\nand ever the knight wept as he had been mad.\nCHAPTER LXXXV. How Sir Tristram made him ready to rescue Sir Palomides,\nbut Sir Launcelot rescued him or he came.\nWhen Sir Tristram heard how Sir Palomides went to his death, he was\nheavy to hear that, and said: Howbeit that I am wroth with Sir\nPalomides, yet will not I suffer him to die so shameful a death, for he\nis a full noble knight. And then anon Sir Tristram was armed and took\nhis horse and two squires with him, and rode a great pace toward the\ncastle of Pelownes where Sir Palomides was judged to death. And these\ntwelve knights that led Sir Palomides passed by a well whereas Sir\nLauncelot was, which was alighted there, and had tied his horse to a\ntree, and taken off his helm to drink of that well; and when he saw\nthese knights, Sir Launcelot put on his helm and suffered them to pass\nby him. And then was he ware of Sir Palomides bounden, and led\nshamefully to his death. O Jesu, said Launcelot, what misadventure is\nbefallen him that he is thus led toward his death? Forsooth, said\nLauncelot, it were shame to me to suffer this noble knight so to die an\nI might help him, therefore I will help him whatsomever come of it, or\nelse I shall die for Sir Palomides\u2019 sake. And then Sir Launcelot\nmounted upon his horse, and gat his spear in his hand, and rode after\nthe twelve knights that led Sir Palomides. Fair knights, said Sir\nLauncelot, whither lead ye that knight? it beseemeth him full ill to\nride bounden. Then these twelve knights suddenly turned their horses\nand said to Sir Launcelot: Sir knight, we counsel thee not to meddle\nwith this knight, for he hath deserved death, and unto death he is\njudged. That me repenteth, said Launcelot, that I may not borrow him\nwith fairness, for he is over good a knight to die such a shameful\ndeath. And therefore, fair knights, said Sir Launcelot, keep you as\nwell as ye can, for I will rescue that knight or die for it.\nThen they began to dress their spears, and Sir Launcelot smote the\nforemost down, horse and man, and so he served three more with one\nspear; and then that spear brast, and therewithal Sir Launcelot drew\nhis sword, and then he smote on the right hand and on the left hand.\nThen within a while he left none of those twelve knights, but he had\nlaid them to the earth, and the most part of them were sore wounded.\nAnd then Sir Launcelot took the best horse that he found, and loosed\nSir Palomides and set him upon that horse; and so they returned again\nunto Joyous Gard, and then was Sir Palomides ware of Sir Tristram how\nhe came riding. And when Sir Launcelot saw him he knew him well, but\nSir Tristram knew him not because Sir Launcelot had on his shoulder a\ngolden shield. So Sir Launcelot made him ready to joust with Sir\nTristram, that Sir Tristram should not ween that he were Sir Launcelot.\nThen Sir Palomides cried aloud to Sir Tristram: O my lord, I require\nyou joust not with this knight, for this good knight hath saved me from\nmy death. When Sir Tristram heard him say so he came a soft trotting\npace toward them. And then Sir Palomides said: My lord, Sir Tristram,\nmuch am I beholding unto you of your great goodness, that would proffer\nyour noble body to rescue me undeserved, for I have greatly offended\nyou. Notwithstanding, said Sir Palomides, here met we with this noble\nknight that worshipfully and manly rescued me from twelve knights, and\nsmote them down all and wounded them sore.\nCHAPTER LXXXVI. How Sir Tristram and Launcelot, with Palomides, came to\njoyous Gard; and of Palomides and Sir Tristram.\nFair knight, said Sir Tristram unto Sir Launcelot, of whence be ye? I\nam a knight errant, said Sir Launcelot, that rideth to seek many\nadventures. What is your name? said Sir Tristram. Sir, at this time I\nwill not tell you. Then Sir Launcelot said unto Sir Tristram and to\nPalomides: Now either of you are met together I will depart from you.\nNot so, said Sir Tristram; I pray you of knighthood to ride with me\nunto my castle. Wit you well, said Sir Launcelot, I may not ride with\nyou, for I have many deeds to do in other places, that at this time I\nmay not abide with you. Ah, mercy Jesu, said Sir Tristram, I require\nyou as ye be a true knight to the order of knighthood, play you with me\nthis night. Then Sir Tristram had a grant of Sir Launcelot: howbeit\nthough he had not desired him he would have ridden with them, outher\nsoon have come after them; for Sir Launcelot came for none other cause\ninto that country but for to see Sir Tristram. And when they were come\nwithin Joyous Gard they alighted, and their horses were led into a\nstable; and then they unarmed them. And when Sir Launcelot was\nunhelmed, Sir Tristram and Sir Palomides knew him. Then Sir Tristram\ntook Sir Launcelot in arms, and so did La Beale Isoud; and Palomides\nkneeled down upon his knees and thanked Sir Launcelot. When Sir\nLauncelot saw Sir Palomides kneel he lightly took him up and said thus:\nWit thou well, Sir Palomides, I and any knight in this land, of worship\nought of very right succour and rescue so noble a knight as ye are\nproved and renowned, throughout all this realm endlong and overthwart.\nAnd then was there joy among them, and the oftener that Sir Palomides\nsaw La Beale Isoud the heavier he waxed day by day.\nThen Sir Launcelot within three or four days departed, and with him\nrode Sir Ector de Maris; and Dinadan and Sir Palomides were there left\nwith Sir Tristram a two months and more. But ever Sir Palomides faded\nand mourned, that all men had marvel wherefore he faded so away. So\nupon a day, in the dawning, Sir Palomides went into the forest by\nhimself alone; and there he found a well, and then he looked into the\nwell, and in the water he saw his own visage, how he was disturbed and\ndefaded, nothing like that he was. What may this mean? said Sir\nPalomides, and thus he said to himself: Ah, Palomides, Palomides, why\nart thou defaded, thou that was wont to be called one of the fairest\nknights of the world? I will no more lead this life, for I love that I\nmay never get nor recover. And therewithal he laid him down by the\nwell. And then he began to make a rhyme of La Beale Isoud and him.\nAnd in the meanwhile Sir Tristram was that same day ridden into the\nforest to chase the hart of greese; but Sir Tristram would not ride\na-hunting never more unarmed, because of Sir Breuse Saunce Pit\u00e9. And so\nas Sir Tristram rode into that forest up and down, he heard one sing\nmarvellously loud, and that was Sir Palomides that lay by the well. And\nthen Sir Tristram rode softly thither, for he deemed there was some\nknight errant that was at the well. And when Sir Tristram came nigh him\nhe descended down from his horse and tied his horse fast till a tree,\nand then he came near him on foot; and anon he was ware where lay Sir\nPalomides by the well and sang loud and merrily; and ever the\ncomplaints were of that noble queen, La Beale Isoud, the which was\nmarvellously and wonderfully well said, and full dolefully and\npiteously made. And all the whole song the noble knight, Sir Tristram,\nheard from the beginning to the ending, the which grieved and troubled\nhim sore.\nBut then at the last, when Sir Tristram had heard all Sir Palomides\u2019\ncomplaints, he was wroth out of measure, and thought for to slay him\nthereas he lay. Then Sir Tristram remembered himself that Sir Palomides\nwas unarmed, and of the noble name that Sir Palomides had, and the\nnoble name that himself had, and then he made a restraint of his anger;\nand so he went unto Sir Palomides a soft pace and said: Sir Palomides,\nI have heard your complaint, and of thy treason that thou hast owed me\nso long, and wit thou well therefore thou shalt die; and if it were not\nfor shame of knighthood thou shouldest not escape my hands, for now I\nknow well thou hast awaited me with treason. Tell me, said Sir\nTristram, how thou wilt acquit thee? Sir, said Palomides, thus I will\nacquit me: as for Queen La Beale Isoud, ye shall wit well that I love\nher above all other ladies in this world; and well I wot it shall\nbefall me as for her love as befell to the noble knight Sir Kehydius,\nthat died for the love of La Beale Isoud. And now, Sir Tristram, I will\nthat ye wit that I have loved La Beale Isoud many a day, and she hath\nbeen the causer of my worship, and else I had been the most simplest\nknight in the world. For by her, and because of her, I have won the\nworship that I have; for when I remembered me of La Beale Isoud I won\nthe worship wheresomever I came for the most part; and yet had I never\nreward nor bount\u00e9 of her the days of my life, and yet have I been her\nknight guerdonless. And therefore, Sir Tristram, as for any death I\ndread not, for I had as lief die as to live. And if I were armed as\nthou art, I should lightly do battle with thee. Well have ye uttered\nyour treason, said Tristram. I have done to you no treason, said\nPalomides, for love is free for all men, and though I have loved your\nlady, she is my lady as well as yours; howbeit I have wrong if any\nwrong be, for ye rejoice her, and have your desire of her, and so had I\nnever nor never am like to have, and yet shall I love her to the\nuttermost days of my life as well as ye.\nCHAPTER LXXXVII. How there was a day set between Sir Tristram and Sir\nPalomides for to fight, and how Sir Tristram was hurt.\nThen said Sir Tristram: I will fight with you to the uttermost. I\ngrant, said Palomides, for in a better quarrel keep I never to fight,\nfor an I die of your hands, of a better knight\u2019s hands may I not be\nslain. And sithen I understand that I shall never rejoice La Beale\nIsoud, I have as good will to die as to live. Then set ye a day, said\nSir Tristram, that we shall do battle. This day fifteen days, said\nPalomides, will I meet with you hereby, in the meadow under Joyous\nGard. Fie for shame, said Sir Tristram, will ye set so long day? let us\nfight to-morn. Not so, said Palomides, for I am meagre, and have been\nlong sick for the love of La Beale Isoud, and therefore I will repose\nme till I have my strength again. So then Sir Tristram and Sir\nPalomides promised faith fully to meet at the well that day fifteen\ndays. I am remembered, said Sir Tristram to Palomides, that ye brake me\nonce a promise when that I rescued you from Breuse Saunce Pit\u00e9 and nine\nknights; and then ye promised me to meet me at the peron and the grave\nbeside Camelot, whereas at that time ye failed of your promise. Wit you\nwell, said Palomides unto Sir Tristram, I was at that day in prison, so\nthat I might not hold my promise. So God me help, said Sir Tristram, an\nye had holden your promise this work had not been here now at this\ntime.\nRight so departed Sir Tristram and Sir Palomides. And so Sir Palomides\ntook his horse and his harness, and he rode unto King Arthur\u2019s court;\nand there Sir Palomides gat him four knights and four\nsergeants-of-arms, and so he returned againward unto Joyous Gard. And\nin the meanwhile Sir Tristram chased and hunted at all manner of\nvenery; and about three days afore the battle should be, as Sir\nTristram chased an hart, there was an archer shot at the hart, and by\nmisfortune he smote Sir Tristram in the thick of the thigh, and the\narrow slew Sir Tristram\u2019s horse and hurt him. When Sir Tristram was so\nhurt he was passing heavy, and wit ye well he bled sore; and then he\ntook another horse, and rode unto Joyous Gard with great heaviness,\nmore for the promise that he had made with Sir Palomides, as to do\nbattle with him within three days after, than for any hurt of his\nthigh. Wherefore there was neither man nor woman that could cheer him\nwith anything that they could make to him, neither Queen La Beale\nIsoud; for ever he deemed that Sir Palomides had smitten him so that he\nshould not be able to do battle with him at the day set.\nCHAPTER LXXXVIII. How Sir Palomides kept his day to have foughten, but\nSir Tristram might not come; and other things.\nBut in no wise there was no knight about Sir Tristram that would\nbelieve that ever Sir Palomides would hurt Sir Tristram, neither by his\nown hands nor by none other consenting. Then when the fifteenth day was\ncome, Sir Palomides came to the well with four knights with him of\nArthur\u2019s court, and three sergeants-of-arms. And for this intent Sir\nPalomides brought the knights with him and the sergeants-of-arms, for\nthey should bear record of the battle betwixt Sir Tristram and Sir\nPalomides. And the one sergeant brought in his helm, the other his\nspear, the third his sword. So thus Palomides came into the field, and\nthere he abode nigh two hours; and then he sent a squire unto Sir\nTristram, and desired him to come into the field to hold his promise.\nWhen the squire was come to Joyous Gard, anon as Sir Tristram heard of\nhis coming he let command that the squire should come to his presence\nthereas he lay in his bed. My lord Sir Tristram, said Palomides\u2019\nsquire, wit you well my lord, Palomides, abideth you in the field, and\nhe would wit whether ye would do battle or not. Ah, my fair brother,\nsaid Sir Tristram, wit thou well that I am right heavy for these\ntidings; therefore tell Sir Palomides an I were well at ease I would\nnot lie here, nor he should have no need to send for me an I might\neither ride or go; and for thou shalt say that I am no liar\u2014Sir\nTristram showed him his thigh that the wound was six inches deep. And\nnow thou hast seen my hurt, tell thy lord that this is no feigned\nmatter, and tell him that I had liefer than all the gold of King Arthur\nthat I were whole; and tell Palomides as soon as I am whole I shall\nseek him endlong and overthwart, and that I promise you as I am true\nknight; and if ever I may meet with him, he shall have battle of me his\nfill. And with this the squire departed; and when Palomides wist that\nTristram was hurt he was glad and said: Now I am sure I shall have no\nshame, for I wot well I should have had hard handling of him, and by\nlikely I must needs have had the worse, for he is the hardest knight in\nbattle that now is living except Sir Launcelot.\nAnd then departed Sir Palomides whereas fortune led him, and within a\nmonth Sir Tristram was whole of his hurt. And then he took his horse,\nand rode from country to country, and all strange adventures he\nachieved wheresomever he rode; and always he enquired for Sir\nPalomides, but of all that quarter of summer Sir Tristram could never\nmeet with Sir Palomides. But thus as Sir Tristram sought and enquired\nafter Sir Palomides Sir Tristram achieved many great battles,\nwherethrough all the noise fell to Sir Tristram, and it ceased of Sir\nLauncelot; and therefore Sir Launcelot\u2019s brethren and his kinsmen would\nhave slain Sir Tristram because of his fame. But when Sir Launcelot\nwist how his kinsmen were set, he said to them openly: Wit you well,\nthat an the envy of you all be so hardy to wait upon my lord, Sir\nTristram, with any hurt, shame, or villainy, as I am true knight I\nshall slay the best of you with mine own hands. Alas, fie for shame,\nshould ye for his noble deeds await upon him to slay him. Jesu defend,\nsaid Launcelot, that ever any noble knight as Sir Tristram is should be\ndestroyed with treason. Of this noise and fame sprang into Cornwall,\nand among them of Liones, whereof they were passing glad, and made\ngreat joy. And then they of Liones sent letters unto Sir Tristram of\nrecommendation, and many great gifts to maintain Sir Tristram\u2019s estate;\nand ever, between, Sir Tristram resorted unto Joyous Gard whereas La\nBeale Isoud was, that loved him as her life.\n_Here endeth the tenth book which is of Sir Tristram. And here\nfolloweth the eleventh book which is of Sir Launcelot._\nBOOK XI.\nCHAPTER I. How Sir Launcelot rode on his adventure, and how he holp a\ndolorous lady from her pain, and how that he fought with a dragon.\nNow leave we Sir Tristram de Liones, and speak we of Sir Launcelot du\nLake, and of Sir Galahad, Sir Launcelot\u2019s son, how he was gotten, and\nin what manner, as the book of French rehearseth. Afore the time that\nSir Galahad was gotten or born, there came in an hermit unto King\nArthur upon Whitsunday, as the knights sat at the Table Round. And when\nthe hermit saw the Siege Perilous, he asked the king and all the\nknights why that siege was void. Sir Arthur and all the knights\nanswered: There shall never none sit in that siege but one, but if he\nbe destroyed. Then said the hermit: Wot ye what is he? Nay, said Arthur\nand all the knights, we wot not who is he that shall sit therein. Then\nwot I, said the hermit, for he that shall sit there is unborn and\nungotten, and this same year he shall be gotten that shall sit there in\nthat Siege Perilous, and he shall win the Sangreal. When this hermit\nhad made this mention he departed from the court of King Arthur.\nAnd then after this feast Sir Launcelot rode on his adventure, till on\na time by adventure he passed over the pont of Corbin; and there he saw\nthe fairest tower that ever he saw, and there-under was a fair town\nfull of people; and all the people, men and women, cried at once:\nWelcome, Sir Launcelot du Lake, the flower of all knighthood, for by\nthee all we shall be holpen out of danger. What mean ye, said Sir\nLauncelot, that ye cry so upon me? Ah, fair knight, said they all, here\nis within this tower a dolorous lady that hath been there in pains many\nwinters and days, for ever she boileth in scalding water; and but late,\nsaid all the people, Sir Gawaine was here and he might not help her,\nand so he left her in pain. So may I, said Sir Launcelot, leave her in\npain as well as Sir Gawaine did. Nay, said the people, we know well\nthat it is Sir Launcelot that shall deliver her. Well, said Launcelot,\nthen shew me what I shall do.\nThen they brought Sir Launcelot into the tower; and when he came to the\nchamber thereas this lady was, the doors of iron unlocked and unbolted.\nAnd so Sir Launcelot went into the chamber that was as hot as any stew.\nAnd there Sir Launcelot took the fairest lady by the hand that ever he\nsaw, and she was naked as a needle; and by enchantment Queen Morgan le\nFay and the Queen of Northgalis had put her there in that pains,\nbecause she was called the fairest lady of that country; and there she\nhad been five years, and never might she be delivered out of her great\npains unto the time the best knight of the world had taken her by the\nhand. Then the people brought her clothes. And when she was arrayed,\nSir Launcelot thought she was the fairest lady of the world, but if it\nwere Queen Guenever.\nThen this lady said to Sir Launcelot: Sir, if it please you will ye go\nwith me hereby into a chapel that we may give loving and thanking unto\nGod? Madam, said Sir Launcelot, come on with me, I will go with you. So\nwhen they came there and gave thankings to God all the people, both\nlearned and lewd, gave thankings unto God and him, and said: Sir\nknight, since ye have delivered this lady, ye shall deliver us from a\nserpent there is here in a tomb. Then Sir Launcelot took his shield and\nsaid: Bring me thither, and what I may do unto the pleasure of God and\nyou I will do. So when Sir Launcelot came thither he saw written upon\nthe tomb letters of gold that said thus: Here shall come a leopard of\nking\u2019s blood, and he shall slay this serpent, and this leopard shall\nengender a lion in this foreign country, the which lion shall pass all\nother knights. So then Sir Launcelot lift up the tomb, and there came\nout an horrible and a fiendly dragon, spitting fire out of his mouth.\nThen Sir Launcelot drew his sword and fought with the dragon long, and\nat the last with great pain Sir Launcelot slew that dragon. Therewithal\ncame King Pelles, the good and noble knight, and saluted Sir Launcelot,\nand he him again. Fair knight, said the king, what is your name? I\nrequire you of your knighthood tell me!\nCHAPTER II. How Sir Launcelot came to Pelles, and of the Sangreal, and\nof Elaine, King Pelles\u2019 daughter.\nSir, said Launcelot, wit you well my name is Sir Launcelot du Lake. And\nmy name is, said the king, Pelles, king of the foreign country, and\ncousin nigh unto Joseph of Armathie. And then either of them made much\nof other, and so they went into the castle to take their repast. And\nanon there came in a dove at a window, and in her mouth there seemed a\nlittle censer of gold. And herewithal there was such a savour as all\nthe spicery of the world had been there. And forthwithal there was upon\nthe table all manner of meats and drinks that they could think upon. So\ncame in a damosel passing fair and young, and she bare a vessel of gold\nbetwixt her hands; and thereto the king kneeled devoutly, and said his\nprayers, and so did all that were there. O Jesu, said Sir Launcelot,\nwhat may this mean? This is, said the king, the richest thing that any\nman hath living. And when this thing goeth about, the Round Table shall\nbe broken; and wit thou well, said the king, this is the holy Sangreal\nthat ye have here seen. So the king and Sir Launcelot led their life\nthe most part of that day. And fain would King Pelles have found the\nmean to have had Sir Launcelot to have lain by his daughter, fair\nElaine. And for this intent: the king knew well that Sir Launcelot\nshould get a child upon his daughter, the which should be named Sir\nGalahad the good knight, by whom all the foreign country should be\nbrought out of danger, and by him the Holy Greal should be achieved.\nThen came forth a lady that hight Dame Brisen, and she said unto the\nking: Sir, wit ye well Sir Launcelot loveth no lady in the world but\nall only Queen Guenever; and therefore work ye by counsel, and I shall\nmake him to lie with your daughter, and he shall not wit but that he\nlieth with Queen Guenever. O fair lady, Dame Brisen, said the king,\nhope ye to bring this about? Sir, said she, upon pain of my life let me\ndeal; for this Brisen was one of the greatest enchantresses that was at\nthat time in the world living. Then anon by Dame Brisen\u2019s wit she made\none to come to Sir Launcelot that he knew well. And this man brought\nhim a ring from Queen Guenever like as it had come from her, and such\none as she was wont for the most part to wear; and when Sir Launcelot\nsaw that token wit ye well he was never so fain. Where is my lady? said\nSir Launcelot. In the Castle of Case, said the messenger, but five mile\nhence. Then Sir Launcelot thought to be there the same might. And then\nthis Brisen by the commandment of King Pelles let send Elaine to this\ncastle with twenty-five knights unto the Castle of Case. Then Sir\nLauncelot against night rode unto that castle, and there anon he was\nreceived worshipfully with such people, to his seeming, as were about\nQueen Guenever secret.\nSo when Sir Launcelot was alighted, he asked where the queen was. So\nDame Brisen said she was in her bed; and then the people were avoided,\nand Sir Launcelot was led unto his chamber. And then Dame Brisen\nbrought Sir Launcelot a cup full of wine; and anon as he had drunken\nthat wine he was so assotted and mad that he might make no delay, but\nwithouten any let he went to bed; and he weened that maiden Elaine had\nbeen Queen Guenever. Wit you well that Sir Launcelot was glad, and so\nwas that lady Elaine that she had gotten Sir Launcelot in her arms. For\nwell she knew that same night should be gotten upon her Galahad that\nshould prove the best knight of the world; and so they lay together\nuntil underne of the morn; and all the windows and holes of that\nchamber were stopped that no manner of day might be seen. And then Sir\nLauncelot remembered him, and he arose up and went to the window.\nCHAPTER III. How Sir Launcelot was displeased when he knew that he had\nlain by Dame Elaine, and how she was delivered of Galahad.\nAnd anon as he had unshut the window the enchantment was gone; then he\nknew himself that he had done amiss. Alas, he said, that I have lived\nso long; now I am shamed. So then he gat his sword in his hand and\nsaid: Thou traitress, what art thou that I have lain by all this night?\nthou shalt die right here of my hands. Then this fair lady Elaine\nskipped out of her bed all naked, and kneeled down afore Sir Launcelot,\nand said: Fair courteous knight, come of king\u2019s blood, I require you\nhave mercy upon me, and as thou art renowned the most noble knight of\nthe world, slay me not, for I have in my womb him by thee that shall be\nthe most noblest knight of the world. Ah, false traitress, said Sir\nLauncelot, why hast thou betrayed me? anon tell me what thou art. Sir,\nshe said, I am Elaine, the daughter of King Pelles. Well, said Sir\nLauncelot, I will forgive you this deed; and therewith he took her up\nin his arms, and kissed her, for she was as fair a lady, and thereto\nlusty and young, and as wise, as any was that time living. So God me\nhelp, said Sir Launcelot, I may not wite this to you; but her that made\nthis enchantment upon me as between you and me, an I may find her, that\nsame Lady Brisen, she shall lose her head for witchcrafts, for there\nwas never knight deceived so as I am this night. And so Sir Launcelot\narrayed him, and armed him, and took his leave mildly at that lady\nyoung Elaine, and so he departed. Then she said: My lord Sir Launcelot,\nI beseech you see me as soon as ye may, for I have obeyed me unto the\nprophecy that my father told me. And by his commandment to fulfil this\nprophecy I have given the greatest riches and the fairest flower that\never I had, and that is my maidenhood that I shall never have again;\nand therefore, gentle knight, owe me your good will.\nAnd so Sir Launcelot arrayed him and was armed, and took his leave\nmildly at that young lady Elaine; and so he departed, and rode till he\ncame to the Castle of Corbin, where her father was. And as fast as her\ntime came she was delivered of a fair child, and they christened him\nGalahad; and wit ye well that child was well kept and well nourished,\nand he was named Galahad because Sir Launcelot was so named at the\nfountain stone; and after that the Lady of the Lake confirmed him Sir\nLauncelot du Lake.\nThen after this lady was delivered and churched, there came a knight\nunto her, his name was Sir Bromel la Pleche, the which was a great\nlord; and he had loved that lady long, and he evermore desired her to\nwed her; and so by no mean she could put him off, till on a day she\nsaid to Sir Bromel: Wit thou well, sir knight, I will not love you, for\nmy love is set upon the best knight of the world. Who is he? said Sir\nBromel. Sir, she said, it is Sir Launcelot du Lake that I love and none\nother, and therefore woo me no longer. Ye say well, said Sir Bromel,\nand sithen ye have told me so much, ye shall have but little joy of Sir\nLauncelot, for I shall slay him wheresomever I meet him. Sir, said the\nLady Elaine, do to him no treason. Wit ye well, my lady, said Bromel,\nand I promise you this twelvemonth I shall keep the pont of Corbin for\nSir Launcelot\u2019s sake, that he shall neither come nor go unto you, but I\nshall meet with him.\nCHAPTER IV. How Sir Bors came to Dame Elaine and saw Galahad, and how\nhe was fed with the Sangreal.\nThen as it fell by fortune and adventure, Sir Bors de Ganis, that was\nnephew unto Sir Launcelot, came over that bridge; and there Sir Bromel\nand Sir Bors jousted, and Sir Bors smote Sir Bromel such a buffet that\nhe bare him over his horse\u2019s croup. And then Sir Bromel, as an hardy\nknight, pulled out his sword, and dressed his shield to do battle with\nSir Bors. And then Sir Bors alighted and avoided his horse, and there\nthey dashed together many sad strokes; and long thus they fought, till\nat the last Sir Bromel was laid to the earth, and there Sir Bors began\nto unlace his helm to slay him. Then Sir Bromel cried Sir Bors mercy,\nand yielded him. Upon this covenant thou shalt have thy life, said Sir\nBors, so thou go unto Sir Launcelot upon Whitsunday that next cometh,\nand yield thee unto him as knight recreant. I will do it, said Sir\nBromel, and that he sware upon the cross of the sword. And so he let\nhim depart, and Sir Bors rode unto King Pelles, that was within Corbin.\nAnd when the king and Elaine his daughter wist that Sir Bors was nephew\nunto Sir Launcelot, they made him great cheer. Then said Dame Elaine:\nWe marvel where Sir Launcelot is, for he came never here but once.\nMarvel not, said Sir Bors, for this half year he hath been in prison\nwith Queen Morgan le Fay, King Arthur\u2019s sister. Alas, said Dame Elaine,\nthat me repenteth. And ever Sir Bors beheld that child in her arms, and\never him seemed it was passing like Sir Launcelot. Truly, said Elaine,\nwit ye well this child he gat upon me. Then Sir Bors wept for joy, and\nhe prayed to God it might prove as good a knight as his father was. And\nso came in a white dove, and she bare a little censer of gold in her\nmouth, and there was all manner of meats and drinks; and a maiden bare\nthat Sangreal, and she said openly: Wit you well, Sir Bors, that this\nchild is Galahad, that shall sit in the Siege Perilous, and achieve the\nSangreal, and he shall be much better than ever was Sir Launcelot du\nLake, that is his own father. And then they kneeled down and made their\ndevotions, and there was such a savour as all the spicery in the world\nhad been there. And when the dove took her flight, the maiden vanished\nwith the Sangreal as she came.\nSir, said Sir Bors unto King Pelles, this castle may be named the\nCastle Adventurous, for here be many strange adventures. That is sooth,\nsaid the king, for well may this place be called the adventures place,\nfor there come but few knights here that go away with any worship; be\nhe never so strong, here he may be proved; and but late Sir Gawaine,\nthe good knight, gat but little worship here. For I let you wit, said\nKing Pelles, here shall no knight win no worship but if he be of\nworship himself and of good living, and that loveth God and dreadeth\nGod, and else he getteth no worship here, be he never so hardy. That is\nwonderful thing, said Sir Bors. What ye mean in this country I wot not,\nfor ye have many strange adventures, and therefore I will lie in this\ncastle this night. Ye shall not do so, said King Pelles, by my counsel,\nfor it is hard an ye escape without a shame. I shall take the adventure\nthat will befall me, said Sir Bors. Then I counsel you, said the king,\nto be confessed clean. As for that, said Sir Bors, I will be shriven\nwith a good will. So Sir Bors was confessed, and for all women Sir Bors\nwas a virgin, save for one, that was the daughter of King Brangoris,\nand on her he gat a child that hight Elaine, and save for her Sir Bors\nwas a clean maiden.\nAnd so Sir Bors was led unto bed in a fair large chamber, and many\ndoors were shut about the chamber. When Sir Bors espied all those\ndoors, he avoided all the people, for he might have nobody with him;\nbut in no wise Sir Bors would unarm him, but so he laid him down upon\nthe bed. And right so he saw come in a light, that he might well see a\nspear great and long that came straight upon him pointling, and to Sir\nBors seemed that the head of the spear brent like a taper. And anon, or\nSir Bors wist, the spear head smote him into the shoulder an\nhand-breadth in deepness, and that wound grieved Sir Bors passing sore.\nAnd then he laid him down again for pain; and anon therewithal there\ncame a knight armed with his shield on his shoulder and his sword in\nhis hand, and he bade Sir Bors: Arise, sir knight, and fight with me. I\nam sore hurt, he said, but yet I shall not fail thee. And then Sir Bors\nstarted up and dressed his shield; and then they lashed together\nmightily a great while; and at the last Sir Bors bare him backward\nuntil that he came unto a chamber door, and there that knight yede into\nthat chamber and rested him a great while. And when he had reposed him\nhe came out freshly again, and began new battle with Sir Bors mightily\nand strongly.\nCHAPTER V. How Sir Bors made Sir Pedivere to yield him, and of\nmarvellous adventures that he had, and how he achieved them.\nThen Sir Bors thought he should no more go into that chamber to rest\nhim, and so Sir Bors dressed him betwixt the knight and that chamber\ndoor, and there Sir Bors smote him down, and then that knight yielded\nhim. What is your name? said Sir Bors. Sir, said he, my name is\nPedivere of the Straight Marches. So Sir Bors made him to swear at\nWhitsunday next coming to be at the court of King Arthur, and yield him\nthere as a prisoner as an overcome knight by the hands of Sir Bors. So\nthus departed Sir Pedivere of the Straight Marches. And then Sir Bors\nlaid him down to rest, and then he heard and felt much noise in that\nchamber; and then Sir Bors espied that there came in, he wist not\nwhether at the doors nor windows, shot of arrows and of quarrels so\nthick that he marvelled, and many fell upon him and hurt him in the\nbare places.\nAnd then Sir Bors was ware where came in an hideous lion; so Sir Bors\ndressed him unto the lion, and anon the lion bereft him his shield, and\nwith his sword Sir Bors smote off the lion\u2019s head. Right so Sir Bors\nforthwithal saw a dragon in the court passing horrible, and there\nseemed letters of gold written in his forehead; and Sir Bors thought\nthat the letters made a signification of King Arthur. Right so there\ncame an horrible leopard and an old, and there they fought long, and\ndid great battle together. And at the last the dragon spit out of his\nmouth as it had been an hundred dragons; and lightly all the small\ndragons slew the old dragon and tare him all to pieces.\nAnon withal there came an old man into the hall, and he sat him down in\na fair chair, and there seemed to be two adders about his neck; and\nthen the old man had an harp, and there he sang an old song how Joseph\nof Armathie came into this land. Then when he had sung, the old man\nbade Sir Bors go from thence. For here shall ye have no more\nadventures; and full worshipfully have ye done, and better shall ye do\nhereafter. And then Sir Bors seemed that there came the whitest dove\nwith a little golden censer in her mouth. And anon therewithal the\ntempest ceased and passed, that afore was marvellous to hear. So was\nall that court full of good savours. Then Sir Bors saw four children\nbearing four fair tapers, and an old man in the midst of the children\nwith a censer in his own hand, and a spear in his other hand, and that\nspear was called the Spear of Vengeance.\nCHAPTER VI. How Sir Bors departed; and how Sir Launcelot was rebuked of\nQueen Guenever, and of his excuse.\nNow, said that old man to Sir Bors, go ye to your cousin, Sir\nLauncelot, and tell him of this adventure the which had been most\nconvenient for him of all earthly knights; but sin is so foul in him he\nmay not achieve such holy deeds, for had not been his sin he had passed\nall the knights that ever were in his days; and tell thou Sir\nLauncelot, of all worldly adventures he passeth in manhood and prowess\nall other, but in this spiritual matters he shall have many his better.\nAnd then Sir Bors saw four gentlewomen come by him, purely beseen: and\nhe saw where that they entered into a chamber where was great light as\nit were a summer light; and the women kneeled down afore an altar of\nsilver with four pillars, and as it had been a bishop kneeled down\nafore that table of silver. And as Sir Bors looked over his head he saw\na sword like silver, naked, hoving over his head, and the clearness\nthereof smote so in his eyes that as at that time Sir Bors was blind;\nand there he heard a voice that said: Go hence, thou Sir Bors, for as\nyet thou art not worthy for to be in this place. And then he yede\nbackward to his bed till on the morn. And on the morn King Pelles made\ngreat joy of Sir Bors; and then he departed and rode to Camelot, and\nthere he found Sir Launcelot du Lake, and told him of the adventures\nthat he had seen with King Pelles at Corbin.\nSo the noise sprang in Arthur\u2019s court that Launcelot had gotten a child\nupon Elaine, the daughter of King Pelles, wherefore Queen Guenever was\nwroth, and gave many rebukes to Sir Launcelot, and called him false\nknight. And then Sir Launcelot told the queen all, and how he was made\nto lie by her by enchantment in likeness of the queen. So the queen\nheld Sir Launcelot excused. And as the book saith, King Arthur had been\nin France, and had made war upon the mighty King Claudas, and had won\nmuch of his lands. And when the king was come again he let cry a great\nfeast, that all lords and ladies of all England should be there, but if\nit were such as were rebellious against him.\nCHAPTER VII. How Dame Elaine, Galahad\u2019s mother, came in great estate\nunto Camelot, and how Sir Launcelot behaved him there.\nAnd when Dame Elaine, the daughter of King Pelles, heard of this feast\nshe went to her father and required him that he would give her leave to\nride to that feast. The king answered: I will well ye go thither, but\nin any wise as ye love me and will have my blessing, that ye be well\nbeseen in the richest wise; and look that ye spare not for no cost; ask\nand ye shall have all that you needeth. Then by the advice of Dame\nBrisen, her maiden, all thing was apparelled unto the purpose, that\nthere was never no lady more richlier beseen. So she rode with twenty\nknights, and ten ladies, and gentlewomen, to the number of an hundred\nhorses. And when she came to Camelot, King Arthur and Queen Guenever\nsaid, and all the knights, that Dame Elaine was the fairest and the\nbest beseen lady that ever was seen in that court. And anon as King\nArthur wist that she was come he met her and saluted her, and so did\nthe most part of all the knights of the Round Table, both Sir Tristram,\nSir Bleoberis, and Sir Gawaine, and many more that I will not rehearse.\nBut when Sir Launcelot saw her he was so ashamed, and that because he\ndrew his sword on the morn when he had lain by her, that he would not\nsalute her nor speak to her; and yet Sir Launcelot thought she was the\nfairest woman that ever he saw in his life-days.\nBut when Dame Elaine saw Sir Launcelot that would not speak unto her\nshe was so heavy that she weened her heart would have to-brast; for wit\nyou well, out of measure she loved him. And then Elaine said unto her\nwoman, Dame Brisen: the unkindness of Sir Launcelot slayeth me near.\nAh, peace, madam, said Dame Brisen, I will undertake that this night he\nshall lie with you, an ye would hold you still. That were me liefer,\nsaid Dame Elaine, than all the gold that is above the earth. Let me\ndeal, said Dame Brisen. So when Elaine was brought unto Queen Guenever\neither made other good cheer by countenance, but nothing with hearts.\nBut all men and women spake of the beauty of Dame Elaine, and of her\ngreat riches.\nThen, at night, the queen commanded that Dame Elaine should sleep in a\nchamber nigh her chamber, and all under one roof; and so it was done as\nthe queen commanded. Then the queen sent for Sir Launcelot and bade him\ncome to her chamber that night: Or else I am sure, said the queen, that\nye will go to your lady\u2019s bed, Dame Elaine, by whom ye gat Galahad. Ah,\nmadam, said Sir Launcelot, never say ye so, for that I did was against\nmy will. Then, said the queen, look that ye come to me when I send for\nyou. Madam, said Launcelot, I shall not fail you, but I shall be ready\nat your commandment. This bargain was soon done and made between them,\nbut Dame Brisen knew it by her crafts, and told it to her lady, Dame\nElaine. Alas, said she, how shall I do? Let me deal, said Dame Brisen,\nfor I shall bring him by the hand even to your bed, and he shall ween\nthat I am Queen Guenever\u2019s messenger. Now well is me, said Dame Elaine,\nfor all the world I love not so much as I do Sir Launcelot.\nCHAPTER VIII. How Dame Brisen by enchantment brought Sir Launcelot to\nDame Elaine\u2019s bed, and how Queen Guenever rebuked him.\nSo when time came that all folks were abed, Dame Brisen came to Sir\nLauncelot\u2019s bed\u2019s side and said: Sir Launcelot du Lake, sleep you? My\nlady, Queen Guenever, lieth and awaiteth upon you. O my fair lady, said\nSir Launcelot, I am ready to go with you where ye will have me. So Sir\nLauncelot threw upon him a long gown, and his sword in his hand; and\nthen Dame Brisen took him by the finger and led him to her lady\u2019s bed,\nDame Elaine; and then she departed and left them in bed together. Wit\nyou well the lady was glad, and so was Sir Launcelot, for he weened\nthat he had had another in his arms.\nNow leave we them kissing and clipping, as was kindly thing; and now\nspeak we of Queen Guenever that sent one of her women unto Sir\nLauncelot\u2019s bed; and when she came there she found the bed cold, and he\nwas away; so she came to the queen and told her all. Alas, said the\nqueen, where is that false knight become? Then the queen was nigh out\nof her wit, and then she writhed and weltered as a mad woman, and might\nnot sleep a four or five hours. Then Sir Launcelot had a condition that\nhe used of custom, he would clatter in his sleep, and speak oft of his\nlady, Queen Guenever. So as Sir Launcelot had waked as long as it had\npleased him, then by course of kind he slept, and Dame Elaine both. And\nin his sleep he talked and clattered as a jay, of the love that had\nbeen betwixt Queen Guenever and him. And so as he talked so loud the\nqueen heard him thereas she lay in her chamber; and when she heard him\nso clatter she was nigh wood and out of her mind, and for anger and\npain wist not what to do. And then she coughed so loud that Sir\nLauncelot awaked, and he knew her hemming. And then he knew well that\nhe lay not by the queen; and therewith he leapt out of his bed as he\nhad been a wood man, in his shirt, and the queen met him in the floor;\nand thus she said: False traitor knight that thou art, look thou never\nabide in my court, and avoid my chamber, and not so hardy, thou false\ntraitor knight that thou art, that ever thou come in my sight. Alas,\nsaid Sir Launcelot; and therewith he took such an heartly sorrow at her\nwords that he fell down to the floor in a swoon. And therewithal Queen\nGuenever departed. And when Sir Launcelot awoke of his swoon, he leapt\nout at a bay window into a garden, and there with thorns he was all\nto-scratched in his visage and his body; and so he ran forth he wist\nnot whither, and was wild wood as ever was man; and so he ran two year,\nand never man might have grace to know him.\nCHAPTER IX. How Dame Elaine was commanded by Queen Guenever to avoid\nthe court, and how Sir Launcelot became mad.\nNow turn we unto Queen Guenever and to the fair Lady Elaine, that when\nDame Elaine heard the queen so to rebuke Sir Launcelot, and also she\nsaw how he swooned, and how he leaped out at a bay window, then she\nsaid unto Queen Guenever: Madam, ye are greatly to blame for Sir\nLauncelot, for now have ye lost him, for I saw and heard by his\ncountenance that he is mad for ever. Alas, madam, ye do great sin, and\nto yourself great dishonour, for ye have a lord of your own, and\ntherefore it is your part to love him; for there is no queen in this\nworld hath such another king as ye have. And, if ye were not, I might\nhave the love of my lord Sir Launcelot; and cause I have to love him\nfor he had my maidenhood, and by him I have borne a fair son, and his\nname is Galahad, and he shall be in his time the best knight of the\nworld. Dame Elaine, said the queen, when it is daylight I charge you\nand command you to avoid my court; and for the love ye owe unto Sir\nLauncelot discover not his counsel, for an ye do, it will be his death.\nAs for that, said Dame Elaine, I dare undertake he is marred for ever,\nand that have ye made; for ye, nor I, are like to rejoice him; for he\nmade the most piteous groans when he leapt out at yonder bay window\nthat ever I heard man make. Alas, said fair Elaine, and alas, said the\nQueen Guenever, for now I wot well we have lost him for ever.\nSo on the morn Dame Elaine took her leave to depart, and she would no\nlonger abide. Then King Arthur brought her on her way with mo than an\nhundred knights through a forest. And by the way she told Sir Bors de\nGanis all how it betid that same night, and how Sir Launcelot leapt out\nat a window, araged out of his wit. Alas, said Sir Bors, where is my\nlord, Sir Launcelot, become? Sir, said Elaine, I wot ne\u2019er. Alas, said\nSir Bors, betwixt you both ye have destroyed that good knight. As for\nme, said Dame Elaine, I said never nor did never thing that should in\nany wise displease him, but with the rebuke that Queen Guenever gave\nhim I saw him swoon to the earth; and when he awoke he took his sword\nin his hand, naked save his shirt, and leapt out at a window with the\ngrisliest groan that ever I heard man make. Now farewell, Dame Elaine,\nsaid Sir Bors, and hold my lord Arthur with a tale as long as ye can,\nfor I will turn again to Queen Guenever and give her a hete; and I\nrequire you, as ever ye will have my service, make good watch and espy\nif ever ye may see my lord Sir Launcelot. Truly, said fair Elaine, I\nshall do all that I may do, for as fain would I know and wit where he\nis become, as you, or any of his kin, or Queen Guenever; and cause\ngreat enough have I thereto as well as any other. And wit ye well, said\nfair Elaine to Sir Bors, I would lose my life for him rather than he\nshould be hurt; but alas, I cast me never for to see him, and the chief\ncauser of this is Dame Guenever. Madam, said Dame Brisen, the which had\nmade the enchantment before betwixt Sir Launcelot and her, I pray you\nheartily, let Sir Bors depart, and hie him with all his might as fast\nas he may to seek Sir Launcelot, for I warn you he is clean out of his\nmind; and yet he shall be well holpen an but by miracle.\nThen wept Dame Elaine, and so did Sir Bors de Ganis; and so they\ndeparted, and Sir Bors rode straight unto Queen Guenever. And when she\nsaw Sir Bors she wept as she were wood. Fie on your weeping, said Sir\nBors de Ganis, for ye weep never but when there is no bote. Alas, said\nSir Bors, that ever Sir Launcelot\u2019s kin saw you, for now have ye lost\nthe best knight of our blood, and he that was all our leader and our\nsuccour; and I dare say and make it good that all kings, christian nor\nheathen, may not find such a knight, for to speak of his nobleness and\ncourtesy, with his beauty and his gentleness. Alas, said Sir Bors, what\nshall we do that be of his blood? Alas, said Sir Ector de Maris. Alas,\nsaid Lionel.\nCHAPTER X. What sorrow Queen Guenever made for Sir Launcelot, and how\nhe was sought by knights of his kin.\nAnd when the queen heard them say so she fell to the earth in a dead\nswoon. And then Sir Bors took her up, and dawed her; and when she was\nawaked she kneeled afore the three knights, and held up both her hands,\nand besought them to seek him. And spare not for no goods but that he\nbe found, for I wot he is out of his mind. And Sir Bors, Sir Ector, and\nSir Lionel departed from the queen, for they might not abide no longer\nfor sorrow. And then the queen sent them treasure enough for their\nexpenses, and so they took their horses and their armour, and departed.\nAnd then they rode from country to country, in forests, and in\nwilderness, and in wastes; and ever they laid watch both at forests and\nat all manner of men as they rode, to hearken and spere after him, as\nhe that was a naked man, in his shirt, with a sword in his hand. And\nthus they rode nigh a quarter of a year, endlong and overthwart, in\nmany places, forests and wilderness, and oft-times were evil lodged for\nhis sake; and yet for all their labour and seeking could they never\nhear word of him. And wit you well these three knights were passing\nsorry.\nThen at the last Sir Bors and his fellows met with a knight that hight\nSir Melion de Tartare. Now fair knight, said Sir Bors, whither be ye\naway? for they knew either other afore time. Sir, said Melion, I am in\nthe way toward the court of King Arthur. Then we pray you, said Sir\nBors, that ye will tell my lord Arthur, and my lady, Queen Guenever,\nand all the fellowship of the Round Table, that we cannot in no wise\nhear tell where Sir Launcelot is become. Then Sir Melion departed from\nthem, and said that he would tell the king, and the queen, and all the\nfellowship of the Round Table, as they had desired him. So when Sir\nMelion came to the court of King Arthur he told the king, and the\nqueen, and all the fellowship of the Round Table, what Sir Bors had\nsaid of Sir Launcelot. Then Sir Gawaine, Sir Uwaine, Sir Sagramore le\nDesirous, Sir Aglovale, and Sir Percivale de Galis took upon them by\nthe great desire of King Arthur, and in especial by the queen, to seek\nthroughout all England, Wales, and Scotland, to find Sir Launcelot, and\nwith them rode eighteen knights mo to bear them fellowship; and wit ye\nwell, they lacked no manner of spending; and so were they three and\ntwenty knights.\nNow turn we to Sir Launcelot, and speak we of his care and woe, and\nwhat pain he there endured; for cold, hunger, and thirst, he had\nplenty. And thus as these noble knights rode together, they by one\nassent departed, and then they rode by two, by three, and by four, and\nby five, and ever they assigned where they should meet. And so Sir\nAglovale and Sir Percivale rode together unto their mother that was a\nqueen in those days. And when she saw her two sons, for joy she wept\ntenderly. And then she said: Ah, my dear sons, when your father was\nslain he left me four sons, of the which now be twain slain. And for\nthe death of my noble son, Sir Lamorak, shall my heart never be glad.\nAnd then she kneeled down upon her knees to-fore Aglovale and Sir\nPercivale, and besought them to abide at home with her. Ah, sweet\nmother, said Sir Percivale, we may not, for we be come of king\u2019s blood\nof both parties, and therefore, mother, it is our kind to haunt arms\nand noble deeds. Alas, my sweet sons, then she said, for your sakes I\nshall lose my liking and lust, and then wind and weather I may not\nendure, what for the death of your father, King Pellinore, that was\nshamefully slain by the hands of Sir Gawaine, and his brother, Sir\nGaheris: and they slew him not manly but by treason. Ah, my dear sons,\nthis is a piteous complaint for me of your father\u2019s death, considering\nalso the death of Sir Lamorak, that of knighthood had but few fellows.\nNow, my dear sons, have this in your mind. Then there was but weeping\nand sobbing in the court when they should depart, and she fell\na-swooning in midst of the court.\nCHAPTER XI. How a servant of Sir Aglovale\u2019s was slain, and what\nvengeance Sir Aglovale and Sir Percivale did therefore.\nAnd when she was awaked she sent a squire after them with spending\nenough. And so when the squire had overtaken them, they would not\nsuffer him to ride with them, but sent him home again to comfort their\nmother, praying her meekly of her blessing. And so this squire was\nbenighted, and by misfortune he happened to come to a castle where\ndwelled a baron. And so when the squire was come into the castle, the\nlord asked him from whence he came, and whom he served. My lord, said\nthe squire, I serve a good knight that is called Sir Aglovale: the\nsquire said it to good intent, weening unto him to have been more\nforborne for Sir Aglovale\u2019s sake, than he had said he had served the\nqueen, Aglovale\u2019s mother. Well, my fellow, said the lord of that\ncastle, for Sir Aglovale\u2019s sake thou shalt have evil lodging, for Sir\nAglovale slew my brother, and therefore thou shalt die on part of\npayment. And then that lord commanded his men to have him away and slay\nhim; and so they did, and so pulled him out of the castle, and there\nthey slew him without mercy.\nRight so on the morn came Sir Aglovale and Sir Percivale riding by a\nchurchyard, where men and women were busy, and beheld the dead squire,\nand they thought to bury him. What is there, said Sir Aglovale, that ye\nbehold so fast? A good man stert forth and said: Fair knight, here\nlieth a squire slain shamefully this night. How was he slain, fair\nfellow? said Sir Aglovale. My fair sir, said the man, the lord of this\ncastle lodged this squire this night; and because he said he was\nservant unto a good knight that is with King Arthur, his name is Sir\nAglovale, therefore the lord commanded to slay him, and for this cause\nis he slain. Gramercy, said Sir Aglovale, and ye shall see his death\nrevenged lightly; for I am that same knight for whom this squire was\nslain.\nThen Sir Aglovale called unto him Sir Percivale, and bade him alight\nlightly; and so they alighted both, and betook their horses to their\nmen, and so they yede on foot into the castle. And all so soon as they\nwere within the castle gate Sir Aglovale bade the porter: Go thou unto\nthy lord and tell him that I am Sir Aglovale for whom this squire was\nslain this night. Anon the porter told this to his lord, whose name was\nGoodewin. Anon he armed him, and then he came into the court and said:\nWhich of you is Sir Aglovale? Here I am, said Aglovale: for what cause\nslewest thou this night my mother\u2019s squire? I slew him, said Sir\nGoodewin, because of thee, for thou slewest my brother, Sir Gawdelin.\nAs for thy brother, said Sir Aglovale, I avow it I slew him, for he was\na false knight and a betrayer of ladies and of good knights; and for\nthe death of my squire thou shalt die. I defy thee, said Sir Goodewin.\nThen they lashed together as eagerly as it had been two lions, and Sir\nPercivale he fought with all the remnant that would fight. And within a\nwhile Sir Percivale had slain all that would withstand him; for Sir\nPercivale dealt so his strokes that were so rude that there durst no\nman abide him. And within a while Sir Aglovale had Sir Goodewin at the\nearth, and there he unlaced his helm, and struck off his head. And then\nthey departed and took their horses; and then they let carry the dead\nsquire unto a priory, and there they interred him.\nCHAPTER XII. How Sir Pervivale departed secretly from his brother, and\nhow he loosed a knight bound with a chain, and of other doings.\nAnd when this was done they rode into many countries, ever inquiring\nafter Sir Launcelot, but never they could hear of him; and at the last\nthey came to a castle that hight Cardican, and there Sir Percivale and\nSir Aglovale were lodged together. And privily about midnight Sir\nPercivale came to Aglovale\u2019s squire and said: Arise and make thee\nready, for ye and I will ride away secretly. Sir, said the squire, I\nwould full fain ride with you where ye would have me, but an my lord,\nyour brother, take me he will slay me. As for that care thou not, for I\nshall be thy warrant.\nAnd so Sir Percivale rode till it was after noon, and then he came upon\na bridge of stone, and there he found a knight that was bound with a\nchain fast about the waist unto a pillar of stone. O fair knight, said\nthat bound knight, I require thee loose me of my bonds. What knight are\nye, said Sir Percivale, and for what cause are ye so bound? Sir, I\nshall tell you, said that knight: I am a knight of the Table Round, and\nmy name is Sir Persides; and thus by adventure I came this way, and\nhere I lodged in this castle at the bridge foot, and therein dwelleth\nan uncourteous lady; and because she proffered me to be her paramour,\nand I refused her, she set her men upon me suddenly or ever I might\ncome to my weapon; and thus they bound me, and here I wot well I shall\ndie but if some man of worship break my bands. Be ye of good cheer,\nsaid Sir Percivale, and because ye are a knight of the Round Table as\nwell as I, I trust to God to break your bands. And therewith Sir\nPercivale pulled out his sword and struck at the chain with such a\nmight that he cut a-two the chain, and through Sir Persides\u2019 hauberk\nand hurt him a little. O Jesu, said Sir Persides, that was a mighty\nstroke as ever I felt one, for had not the chain been ye had slain me.\nAnd therewithal Sir Persides saw a knight coming out of a castle all\nthat ever he might fling. Beware, sir, said Sir Persides, yonder cometh\na man that will have ado with you. Let him come, said Sir Percivale.\nAnd so he met with that knight in midst of the bridge; and Sir\nPercivale gave him such a buffet that he smote him quite from his horse\nand over a part of the bridge, that, had not been a little vessel under\nthe bridge, that knight had been drowned. And then Sir Percivale took\nthe knight\u2019s horse and made Sir Persides to mount up him; and so they\nrode unto the castle, and bade the lady deliver Sir Persides\u2019 servants,\nor else he would slay all that ever he found; and so for fear she\ndelivered them all. Then was Sir Percivale ware of a lady that stood in\nthat tower. Ah, madam, said Sir Percivale, what use and custom is that\nin a lady to destroy good knights but if they will be your paramour?\nForsooth this is a shameful custom of a lady, and if I had not a great\nmatter in my hand I should fordo your evil customs.\nAnd so Sir Persides brought Sir Percivale unto his own castle, and\nthere he made him great cheer all that night. And on the morn, when Sir\nPercivale had heard mass and broken his fast, he bade Sir Persides ride\nunto King Arthur: And tell the king how that ye met with me; and tell\nmy brother, Sir Aglovale, how I rescued you; and bid him seek not after\nme, for I am in the quest to seek Sir Launcelot du Lake, and though he\nseek me he shall not find me; and tell him I will never see him, nor\nthe court, till I have found Sir Launcelot. Also tell Sir Kay the\nSeneschal, and to Sir Mordred, that I trust to Jesu to be of as great\nworthiness as either of them, for tell them I shall never forget their\nmocks and scorns that they did to me that day that I was made knight;\nand tell them I will never see that court till men speak more worship\nof me than ever men did of any of them both. And so Sir Persides\ndeparted from Sir Percivale, and then he rode unto King Arthur, and\ntold there of Sir Percivale. And when Sir Aglovale heard him speak of\nhis brother Sir Percivale, he said: He departed from me unkindly.\nCHAPTER XIII. How Sir Percivale met with Sir Ector, and how they fought\nlong, and each had almost slain other.\nSir, said Sir Persides, on my life he shall prove a noble knight as any\nnow is living. And when he saw Sir Kay and Sir Mordred, Sir Persides\nsaid thus: My fair lords both, Sir Percivale greeteth you well both,\nand he sent you word by me that he trusteth to God or ever he come to\nthe court again to be of as great noblesse as ever were ye both, and mo\nmen to speak of his noblesse than ever they did of you. It may well be,\nsaid Sir Kay and Sir Mordred, but at that time when he was made knight\nhe was full unlike to prove a good knight. As for that, said King\nArthur, he must needs prove a good knight, for his father and his\nbrethren were noble knights.\nAnd now will we turn unto Sir Percivale that rode long; and in a forest\nhe met a knight with a broken shield and a broken helm; and as soon as\neither saw other readily they made them ready to joust, and so hurtled\ntogether with all the might of their horses, and met together so hard,\nthat Sir Percivale was smitten to the earth. And then Sir Percivale\narose lightly, and cast his shield on his shoulder and drew his sword,\nand bade the other knight: Alight, and do we battle unto the uttermost.\nWill ye more? said that knight. And therewith he alighted, and put his\nhorse from him; and then they came together an easy pace, and there\nthey lashed together with noble swords, and sometime they struck and\nsometime they foined, and either gave other many great wounds. Thus\nthey fought near half a day, and never rested but right little, and\nthere was none of them both that had less wounds than fifteen, and they\nbled so much that it was marvel they stood on their feet. But this\nknight that fought with Sir Percivale was a proved knight and a\nwise-fighting knight, and Sir Percivale was young and strong, not\nknowing in fighting as the other was.\nThen Sir Percivale spoke first, and said: Sir knight, hold thy hand a\nwhile still, for we have fought for a simple matter and quarrel\noverlong, and therefore I require thee tell me thy name, for I was\nnever or this time matched. So God me help, said that knight, and never\nor this time was there never knight that wounded me so sore as thou\nhast done, and yet have I fought in many battles; and now shalt thou\nwit that I am a knight of the Table Round, and my name is Sir Ector de\nMaris, brother unto the good knight, Sir Launcelot du Lake. Alas, said\nSir Percivale, and my name is Sir Percivale de Galis that hath made my\nquest to seek Sir Launcelot, and now I am siker that I shall never\nfinish my quest, for ye have slain me with your hands. It is not so,\nsaid Sir Ector, for I am slain by your hands, and may not live.\nTherefore I require you, said Sir Ector unto Sir Percivale, ride ye\nhereby to a priory, and bring me a priest that I may receive my\nSaviour, for I may not live. And when ye come to the court of King\nArthur tell not my brother, Sir Launcelot, how that ye slew me, for\nthen he would be your mortal enemy, but ye may say that I was slain in\nmy quest as I sought him. Alas, said Sir Percivale, ye say that never\nwill be, for I am so faint for bleeding that I may unnethe stand, how\nshould I then take my horse?\nCHAPTER XIV. How by miracle they were both made whole by the coming of\nthe holy vessel of Sangreal.\nThen they made both great dole out of measure. This will not avail,\nsaid Sir Percivale. And then he kneeled down and made his prayer\ndevoutly unto Almighty Jesu, for he was one of the best knights of the\nworld that at that time was, in whom the very faith stood most in.\nRight so there came by the holy vessel of the Sangreal with all manner\nof sweetness and savour; but they could not readily see who that bare\nthat vessel, but Sir Percivale had a glimmering of the vessel and of\nthe maiden that bare it, for he was a perfect clean maiden; and\nforthwithal they both were as whole of hide and limb as ever they were\nin their life-days: then they gave thankings to God with great\nmildness. O Jesu, said Sir Percivale, what may this mean, that we be\nthus healed, and right now we were at the point of dying? I wot full\nwell, said Sir Ector, what it is; it is an holy vessel that is borne by\na maiden, and therein is part of the holy blood of our Lord Jesu\nChrist, blessed mote he be. But it may not be seen, said Sir Ector, but\nif it be by a perfect man. So God me help, said Sir Percivale, I saw a\ndamosel, as me thought, all in white, with a vessel in both her hands,\nand forthwithal I was whole.\nSo then they took their horses and their harness, and amended their\nharness as well as they might that was broken; and so they mounted upon\ntheir horses, and rode talking together. And there Sir Ector de Maris\ntold Sir Percivale how he had sought his brother, Sir Launcelot, long,\nand never could hear witting of him: In many strange adventures have I\nbeen in this quest. And so either told other of their adventures.\n_Here endeth the eleventh book. And here followeth the twelfth book._\nBOOK XII.\nCHAPTER I. How Sir Launcelot in his madness took a sword and fought\nwith a knight, and leapt in a bed.\nAnd now leave we of a while of Sir Ector and of Sir Percivale, and\nspeak we of Sir Launcelot that suffered and endured many sharp showers,\nthat ever ran wild wood from place to place, and lived by fruit and\nsuch as he might get, and drank water two year; and other clothing had\nhe but little but his shirt and his breech. Thus as Sir Launcelot\nwandered here and there he came in a fair meadow where he found a\npavilion; and there by, upon a tree, there hung a white shield, and two\nswords hung thereby, and two spears leaned there by a tree. And when\nSir Launcelot saw the swords, anon he leapt to the one sword, and took\nit in his hand, and drew it out. And then he lashed at the shield, that\nall the meadow rang of the dints, that he gave such a noise as ten\nknights had foughten together.\nThen came forth a dwarf, and leapt unto Sir Launcelot, and would have\nhad the sword out of his hand. And then Sir Launcelot took him by the\nboth shoulders and threw him to the ground upon his neck, that he had\nalmost broken his neck; and therewithal the dwarf cried help. Then came\nforth a likely knight, and well apparelled in scarlet furred with\nminever. And anon as he saw Sir Launcelot he deemed that he should be\nout of his wit. And then he said with fair speech: Good man, lay down\nthat sword, for as meseemeth thou hadst more need of sleep and of warm\nclothes than to wield that sword. As for that, said Sir Launcelot, come\nnot too nigh, for an thou do, wit thou well I will slay thee.\nAnd when the knight of the pavilion saw that, he stert backward within\nthe pavilion. And then the dwarf armed him lightly; and so the knight\nthought by force and might to take the sword from Sir Launcelot, and so\nhe came stepping out; and when Sir Launcelot saw him come so all armed\nwith his sword in his hand, then Sir Launcelot flew to him with such a\nmight, and hit him upon the helm such a buffet, that the stroke\ntroubled his brains, and therewith the sword brake in three. And the\nknight fell to the earth as he had been dead, the blood brasting out of\nhis mouth, the nose, and the ears. And then Sir Launcelot ran into the\npavilion, and rushed even into the warm bed; and there was a lady in\nthat bed, and she gat her smock, and ran out of the pavilion. And when\nshe saw her lord lie at the ground like to be dead, then she cried and\nwept as she had been mad. Then with her noise the knight awaked out of\nhis swoon, and looked up weakly with his eyes; and then he asked her,\nwhere was that mad man that had given him such a buffet: For such a\nbuffet had I never of man\u2019s hand. Sir, said the dwarf, it is not\nworship to hurt him, for he is a man out of his wit; and doubt ye not\nhe hath been a man of great worship, and for some heartly sorrow that\nhe hath taken, he is fallen mad; and me beseemeth, said the dwarf, he\nresembleth much unto Sir Launcelot, for him I saw at the great\ntournament beside Lonazep. Jesu defend, said that knight, that ever\nthat noble knight, Sir Launcelot, should be in such a plight; but\nwhatsomever he be, said that knight, harm will I none do him: and this\nknight\u2019s name was Bliant. Then he said unto the dwarf: Go thou fast on\nhorseback, unto my brother Sir Selivant, that is at the Castle Blank,\nand tell him of mine adventure, and bid him bring with him an horse\nlitter, and then will we bear this knight unto my castle.\nCHAPTER II. How Sir Lancelot was carried in an horse litter, and how\nSir Launcelot rescued Sir Bliant, his host.\nSo the dwarf rode fast, and he came again and brought Sir Selivant with\nhim, and six men with an horse litter; and so they took up the feather\nbed with Sir Launcelot, and so carried all away with them unto the\nCastle Blank, and he never awaked till he was within the castle. And\nthen they bound his hands and his feet, and gave him good meats and\ngood drinks, and brought him again to his strength and his fairness;\nbut in his wit they could not bring him again, nor to know himself.\nThus was Sir Launcelot there more than a year and a half, honestly\narrayed and fair faren withal.\nThen upon a day this lord of that castle, Sir Bliant, took his arms, on\nhorseback, with a spear, to seek adventures. And as he rode in a forest\nthere met with him two knights adventurous, the one was Breuse Saunce\nPit\u00e9, and his brother, Sir Bertelot; and these two ran both at once\nupon Sir Bliant, and brake their spears upon his body. And then they\ndrew out swords and made great battle, and fought long together. But at\nthe last Sir Bliant was sore wounded, and felt himself faint; and then\nhe fled on horseback toward his castle. And as they came hurling under\nthe castle whereas Sir Launcelot lay in a window, [he] saw how two\nknights laid upon Sir Bliant with their swords. And when Sir Launcelot\nsaw that, yet as wood as he was he was sorry for his lord, Sir Bliant.\nAnd then Sir Launcelot brake the chains from his legs and off his arms,\nand in the breaking he hurt his hands sore; and so Sir Launcelot ran\nout at a postern, and there he met with the two knights that chased Sir\nBliant; and there he pulled down Sir Bertelot with his bare hands from\nhis horse, and therewithal he wrothe his sword out of his hand; and so\nhe leapt unto Sir Breuse, and gave him such a buffet upon the head that\nhe tumbled backward over his horse\u2019s croup. And when Sir Bertelot saw\nthere his brother have such a fall, he gat a spear in his hand, and\nwould have run Sir Launcelot through: that saw Sir Bliant, and struck\noff the hand of Sir Bertelot. And then Sir Breuse and Sir Bertelot gat\ntheir horses and fled away.\nWhen Sir Selivant came and saw what Sir Launcelot had done for his\nbrother, then he thanked God, and so did his brother, that ever they\ndid him any good. But when Sir Bliant saw that Sir Launcelot was hurt\nwith the breaking of his irons, then was he heavy that ever he bound\nhim. Bind him no more, said Sir Selivant, for he is happy and gracious.\nThen they made great joy of Sir Launcelot, and they bound him no more;\nand so he abode there an half year and more. And on the morn early Sir\nLauncelot was ware where came a great boar with many hounds nigh him.\nBut the boar was so big there might no hounds tear him; and the hunters\ncame after, blowing their horns, both upon horseback and some upon\nfoot; and then Sir Launcelot was ware where one alighted and tied his\nhorse to a tree, and leaned his spear against the tree.\nCHAPTER III. How Sir Launcelot fought against a boar and slew him, and\nhow he was hurt, and brought unto an hermitage.\nSo came Sir Launcelot and found the horse bounden till a tree, and a\nspear leaning against a tree, and a sword tied to the saddle bow; and\nthen Sir Launcelot leapt into the saddle and gat that spear in his\nhand, and then he rode after the boar; and then Sir Launcelot was ware\nwhere the boar set his arse to a tree fast by an hermitage. Then Sir\nLauncelot ran at the boar with his spear, and therewith the boar turned\nhim nimbly, and rove out the lungs and the heart of the horse, so that\nLauncelot fell to the earth; and, or ever Sir Launcelot might get from\nthe horse, the boar rove him on the brawn of the thigh up to the hough\nbone. And then Sir Launcelot was wroth, and up he gat upon his feet,\nand drew his sword, and he smote off the boar\u2019s head at one stroke. And\ntherewithal came out the hermit, and saw him have such a wound. Then\nthe hermit came to Sir Launcelot and bemoaned him, and would have had\nhim home unto his hermitage; but when Sir Launcelot heard him speak, he\nwas so wroth with his wound that he ran upon the hermit to have slain\nhim, and the hermit ran away. And when Sir Launcelot might not overget\nhim, he threw his sword after him, for Sir Launcelot might go no\nfurther for bleeding; then the hermit turned again, and asked Sir\nLauncelot how he was hurt. Fellow, said Sir Launcelot, this boar hath\nbitten me sore. Then come with me, said the hermit, and I shall heal\nyou. Go thy way, said Sir Launcelot, and deal not with me.\nThen the hermit ran his way, and there he met with a good knight with\nmany men. Sir, said the hermit, here is fast by my place the goodliest\nman that ever I saw, and he is sore wounded with a boar, and yet he\nhath slain the boar. But well I wot, said the hermit, and he be not\nholpen, that goodly man shall die of that wound, and that were great\npity. Then that knight at the desire of the hermit gat a cart, and in\nthat cart that knight put the boar and Sir Launcelot, for Sir Launcelot\nwas so feeble that they might right easily deal with him; and so Sir\nLauncelot was brought unto the hermitage, and there the hermit healed\nhim of his wound. But the hermit might not find Sir Launcelot\u2019s\nsustenance, and so he impaired and waxed feeble, both of his body and\nof his wit: for the default of his sustenance he waxed more wooder than\nhe was aforehand.\nAnd then upon a day Sir Launcelot ran his way into the forest; and by\nadventure he came to the city of Corbin, where Dame Elaine was, that\nbare Galahad, Sir Launcelot\u2019s son. And so when he was entered into the\ntown he ran through the town to the castle; and then all the young men\nof that city ran after Sir Launcelot, and there they threw turves at\nhim, and gave him many sad strokes. And ever as Sir Launcelot might\noverreach any of them, he threw them so that they would never come in\nhis hands no more; for of some he brake the legs and the arms, and so\nfled into the castle; and then came out knights and squires and rescued\nSir Launcelot. And when they beheld him and looked upon his person,\nthey thought they saw never so goodly a man. And when they saw so many\nwounds upon him, all they deemed that he had been a man of worship. And\nthen they ordained him clothes to his body, and straw underneath him,\nand a little house. And then every day they would throw him meat, and\nset him drink, but there was but few would bring him meat to his hands.\nCHAPTER IV. How Sir Launcelot was known by Dame Elaine, and was borne\ninto a chamber and after healed by the Sangreal.\nSo it befell that King Pelles had a nephew, his name was Castor; and so\nhe desired of the king to be made knight, and so at the request of this\nCastor the king made him knight at the feast of Candlemas. And when Sir\nCastor was made knight, that same day he gave many gowns. And then Sir\nCastor sent for the fool\u2014that was Sir Launcelot. And when he was come\nafore Sir Castor, he gave Sir Launcelot a robe of scarlet and all that\nlonged unto him. And when Sir Launcelot was so arrayed like a knight,\nhe was the seemliest man in all the court, and none so well made. So\nwhen he saw his time he went into the garden, and there Sir Launcelot\nlaid him down by a well and slept. And so at-after noon Dame Elaine and\nher maidens came into the garden to play them; and as they roamed up\nand down one of Dame Elaine\u2019s maidens espied where lay a goodly man by\nthe well sleeping, and anon showed him to Dame Elaine. Peace, said Dame\nElaine, and say no word: and then she brought Dame Elaine where he lay.\nAnd when that she beheld him, anon she fell in remembrance of him, and\nknew him verily for Sir Launcelot; and therewithal she fell a-weeping\nso heartily that she sank even to the earth; and when she had thus wept\na great while, then she arose and called her maidens and said she was\nsick.\nAnd so she yede out of the garden, and she went straight to her father,\nand there she took him apart by herself; and then she said: O father,\nnow have I need of your help, and but if that ye help me farewell my\ngood days for ever. What is that, daughter? said King Pelles. Sir, she\nsaid, thus is it: in your garden I went for to sport, and there, by the\nwell, I found Sir Launcelot du Lake sleeping. I may not believe that,\nsaid King Pelles. Sir, she said, truly he is there, and meseemeth he\nshould be distract out of his wit. Then hold you still, said the king,\nand let me deal. Then the king called to him such as he most trusted, a\nfour persons, and Dame Elaine, his daughter. And when they came to the\nwell and beheld Sir Launcelot, anon Dame Brisen knew him. Sir, said\nDame Brisen, we must be wise how we deal with him, for this knight is\nout of his mind, and if we awake him rudely what he will do we all know\nnot; but ye shall abide, and I shall throw such an enchantment upon him\nthat he shall not awake within the space of an hour; and so she did.\nThen within a little while after, the king commanded that all people\nshould avoid, that none should be in that way thereas the king would\ncome. And so when this was done, these four men and these ladies laid\nhand on Sir Launcelot, and so they bare him into a tower, and so into a\nchamber where was the holy vessel of the Sangreal, and by force Sir\nLauncelot was laid by that holy vessel; and there came an holy man and\nunhilled that vessel, and so by miracle and by virtue of that holy\nvessel Sir Launcelot was healed and recovered. And when that he was\nawaked he groaned and sighed, and complained greatly that he was\npassing sore.\nCHAPTER V. How Sir Launcelot, after that he was whole and had his mind,\nhe was ashamed, and how that Elaine desired a castle for him.\nAnd when Sir Launcelot saw King Pelles and Elaine, he waxed ashamed and\nsaid thus: O Lord Jesu, how came I here? for God\u2019s sake, my lord, let\nme wit how I came here. Sir, said Dame Elaine, into this country ye\ncame like a madman, clean out of your wit, and here have ye been kept\nas a fool; and no creature here knew what ye were, until by fortune a\nmaiden of mine brought me unto you whereas ye lay sleeping by a well,\nand anon as I verily beheld you I knew you. And then I told my father,\nand so were ye brought afore this holy vessel, and by the virtue of it\nthus were ye healed. O Jesu, mercy, said Sir Launcelot; if this be\nsooth, how many there be that know of my woodness! So God me help, said\nElaine, no more but my father, and I, and Dame Brisen. Now for Christ\u2019s\nlove, said Sir Launcelot, keep it in counsel, and let no man know it in\nthe world, for I am sore ashamed that I have been thus miscarried; for\nI am banished out of the country of Logris for ever, that is for to say\nthe country of England.\nAnd so Sir Launcelot lay more than a fortnight or ever that he might\nstir for soreness. And then upon a day he said unto Dame Elaine these\nwords: Lady Elaine, for your sake I have had much travail, care, and\nanguish, it needeth not to rehearse it, ye know how. Notwithstanding I\nknow well I have done foul to you when that I drew my sword to you, to\nhave slain you, upon the morn when I had lain with you. And all was the\ncause, that ye and Dame Brisen made me for to lie by you maugre mine\nhead; and as ye say, that night Galahad your son was begotten. That is\ntruth, said Dame Elaine. Now will ye for my love, said Sir Launcelot,\ngo unto your father and get me a place of him wherein I may dwell? for\nin the court of King Arthur may I never come. Sir, said Dame Elaine, I\nwill live and die with you, and only for your sake; and if my life\nmight not avail you and my death might avail you, wit you well I would\ndie for your sake. And I will go to my father and I am sure there is\nnothing that I can desire of him but I shall have it. And where ye be,\nmy lord Sir Launcelot, doubt ye not but I will be with you with all the\nservice that I may do. So forthwithal she went to her father and said,\nSir, my lord, Sir Launcelot, desireth to be here by you in some castle\nof yours. Well daughter, said the king, sith it is his desire to abide\nin these marches he shall be in the Castle of Bliant, and there shall\nye be with him, and twenty of the fairest ladies that be in the\ncountry, and they shall all be of the great blood, and ye shall have\nten knights with you; for, daughter, I will that ye wit we all be\nhonoured by the blood of Sir Launcelot.\nCHAPTER VI. How Sir Launcelot came into the joyous Isle, and there he\nnamed himself Le Chevaler Mal Fet.\nThen went Dame Elaine unto Sir Launcelot, and told him all how her\nfather had devised for him and her. Then came the knight Sir Castor,\nthat was nephew unto King Pelles, unto Sir Launcelot, and asked him\nwhat was his name. Sir, said Sir Launcelot, my name is Le Chevaler Mal\nFet, that is to say the knight that hath trespassed. Sir, said Sir\nCastor, it may well be so, but ever meseemeth your name should be Sir\nLauncelot du Lake, for or now I have seen you. Sir, said Launcelot, ye\nare not as a gentle knight: I put case my name were Sir Launcelot, and\nthat it list me not to discover my name, what should it grieve you here\nto keep my counsel, and ye be not hurt thereby? but wit thou well an\never it lie in my power I shall grieve you, and that I promise you\ntruly. Then Sir Castor kneeled down and besought Sir Launcelot of\nmercy: For I shall never utter what ye be, while that ye be in these\nparts. Then Sir Launcelot pardoned him.\nAnd then, after this, King Pelles with ten knights, and Dame Elaine,\nand twenty ladies, rode unto the Castle of Bliant that stood in an\nisland beclosed in iron, with a fair water deep and large. And when\nthey were there Sir Launcelot let call it the Joyous Isle; and there\nwas he called none otherwise but Le Chevaler Mal Fet, the knight that\nhath trespassed. Then Sir Launcelot let make him a shield all of sable,\nand a queen crowned in the midst, all of silver, and a knight clean\narmed kneeling afore her. And every day once, for any mirths that all\nthe ladies might make him, he would once every day look toward the\nrealm of Logris, where King Arthur and Queen Guenever was. And then\nwould he fall upon a weeping as his heart should to-brast.\nSo it fell that time Sir Launcelot heard of a jousting fast by his\ncastle, within three leagues. Then he called unto him a dwarf, and he\nbade him go unto that jousting. And or ever the knights depart, look\nthou make there a cry, in hearing of all the knights, that there is one\nknight in the Joyous Isle, that is the Castle of Bliant, and say his\nname is Le Chevaler Mal Fet, that will joust against knights that will\ncome. And who that putteth that knight to the worse shall have a fair\nmaid and a gerfalcon.\nCHAPTER VII. Of a great tourneying in the Joyous Isle, and how Sir\nPervivale and Sir Ector came thither, and Sir Percivale fought with\nhim.\nSo when this cry was made, unto Joyous Isle drew knights to the number\nof five hundred; and wit ye well there was never seen in Arthur\u2019s days\none knight that did so much deeds of arms as Sir Launcelot did three\ndays together; for as the book maketh truly mention, he had the better\nof all the five hundred knights, and there was not one slain of them.\nAnd after that Sir Launcelot made them all a great feast.\nAnd in the meanwhile came Sir Percivale de Galis and Sir Ector de Maris\nunder that castle that was called the Joyous Isle. And as they beheld\nthat gay castle they would have gone to that castle, but they might not\nfor the broad water, and bridge could they find none. Then they saw on\nthe other side a lady with a sperhawk on her hand, and Sir Percivale\ncalled unto her, and asked that lady who was in that castle. Fair\nknights, she said, here within this castle is the fairest lady in this\nland, and her name is Elaine. Also we have in this castle the fairest\nknight and the mightiest man that is I dare say living, and he called\nhimself Le Chevaler Mal Fet. How came he into these marches? said Sir\nPercivale. Truly, said the damosel, he came into this country like a\nmad man, with dogs and boys chasing him through the city of Corbin, and\nby the holy vessel of the Sangreal he was brought into his wit again;\nbut he will not do battle with no knight, but by underne or by noon.\nAnd if ye list to come into the castle, said the lady, ye must ride\nunto the further side of the castle and there shall ye find a vessel\nthat will bear you and your horse. Then they departed, and came unto\nthe vessel. And then Sir Percivale alighted, and said to Sir Ector de\nMaris: Ye shall abide me here until that I wit what manner a knight he\nis; for it were shame unto us, inasmuch as he is but one knight, an we\nshould both do battle with him. Do ye as ye list, said Sir Ector, and\nhere I shall abide you until that I hear of you.\nThen passed Sir Percivale the water, and when he came to the castle\ngate he bade the porter: Go thou to the good knight within the castle,\nand tell him here is come an errant knight to joust with him. Sir, said\nthe porter, ride ye within the castle, and there is a common place for\njousting, that lords and ladies may behold you. So anon as Sir\nLauncelot had warning he was soon ready; and there Sir Percivale and\nSir Launcelot encountered with such a might, and their spears were so\nrude, that both the horses and the knights fell to the earth. Then they\navoided their horses, and flang out noble swords, and hewed away\ncantels of their shields, and hurtled together with their shields like\ntwo boars, and either wounded other passing sore. At the last Sir\nPercivale spake first when they had foughten there more than two hours.\nFair knight, said Sir Percivale, I require thee tell me thy name, for I\nmet never with such a knight. Sir, said Sir Launcelot, my name is Le\nChevaler Mal Fet. Now tell me your name, said Sir Launcelot, I require\nyou, gentle knight. Truly, said Sir Percivale, my name is Sir Percivale\nde Galis, that was brother unto the good knight, Sir Lamorak de Galis,\nand King Pellinore was our father, and Sir Aglovale is my brother.\nAlas, said Sir Launcelot, what have I done to fight with you that art a\nknight of the Round Table, that sometime was your fellow?\nCHAPTER VIlI. How each of them knew other, and of their great courtesy,\nand how his brother Sir Ector came unto him, and of their joy.\nAnd therewithal Sir Launcelot kneeled down upon his knees, and threw\naway his shield and his sword from him. When Sir Percivale saw him do\nso he marvelled what he meant. And then thus he said: Sir knight,\nwhatsomever thou be, I require thee upon the high order of knighthood,\ntell me thy true name. Then he said: So God me help, my name is Sir\nLauncelot du Lake, King Ban\u2019s son of Benoy. Alas, said Sir Percivale,\nwhat have I done? I was sent by the queen for to seek you, and so I\nhave sought you nigh this two year, and yonder is Sir Ector de Maris,\nyour brother abideth me on the other side of the yonder water. Now for\nGod\u2019s sake, said Sir Percivale, forgive me mine offences that I have\nhere done. It is soon forgiven, said Sir Launcelot.\nThen Sir Percivale sent for Sir Ector de Maris, and when Sir Launcelot\nhad a sight of him, he ran unto him and took him in his arms; and then\nSir Ector kneeled down, and either wept upon other, that all had pity\nto behold them. Then came Dame Elaine and she there made them great\ncheer as might lie in her power; and there she told Sir Ector and Sir\nPercivale how and in what manner Sir Launcelot came into that country,\nand how he was healed; and there it was known how long Sir Launcelot\nwas with Sir Bliant and with Sir Selivant, and how he first met with\nthem, and how he departed from them because of a boar; and how the\nhermit healed Sir Launcelot of his great wound, and how that he came to\nCorbin.\nCHAPTER IX. How Sir Bors and Sir Lionel came to King Brandegore, and\nhow Sir Bors took his son Helin le Blank, and of Sir Launcelot.\nNow leave we Sir Launcelot in the Joyous Isle with the Lady Dame\nElaine, and Sir Percivale and Sir Ector playing with them, and turn we\nto Sir Bors de Ganis and Sir Lionel, that had sought Sir Launcelot nigh\nby the space of two year, and never could they hear of him. And as they\nthus rode, by adventure they came to the house of Brandegore, and there\nSir Bors was well known, for he had gotten a child upon the king\u2019s\ndaughter fifteen year to-fore, and his name was Helin le Blank. And\nwhen Sir Bors saw that child it liked him passing well. And so those\nknights had good cheer of the King Brandegore. And on the morn Sir Bors\ncame afore King Brandegore and said: Here is my son Helin le Blank,\nthat as it is said he is my son; and sith it is so, I will that ye wit\nthat I will have him with me unto the court of King Arthur. Sir, said\nthe king, ye may well take him with you, but he is over tender of age.\nAs for that, said Sir Bors, I will have him with me, and bring him to\nthe house of most worship of the world. So when Sir Bors should depart\nthere was made great sorrow for the departing of Helin le Blank, and\ngreat weeping was there made. But Sir Bors and Sir Lionel departed, and\nwithin a while they came to Camelot, where was King Arthur. And when\nKing Arthur understood that Helin le Blank was Sir Bors\u2019 son, and\nnephew unto King Brandegore, then King Arthur let him make knight of\nthe Round Table; and so he proved a good knight and an adventurous.\nNow will we turn to our matter of Sir Launcelot. It befell upon a day\nSir Ector and Sir Percivale came to Sir Launcelot and asked him what he\nwould do, and whether he would go with them unto King Arthur or not.\nNay, said Sir Launcelot, that may not be by no mean, for I was so\nentreated at the court that I cast me never to come there more. Sir,\nsaid Sir Ector, I am your brother, and ye are the man in the world that\nI love most; and if I understood that it were your disworship, ye may\nunderstand I would never counsel you thereto; but King Arthur and all\nhis knights, and in especial Queen Guenever, made such dole and sorrow\nthat it was marvel to hear and see. And ye must remember the great\nworship and renown that ye be of, how that ye have been more spoken of\nthan any other knight that is now living; for there is none that\nbeareth the name now but ye and Sir Tristram. Therefore brother, said\nSir Ector, make you ready to ride to the court with us, and I dare say\nthere was never knight better welcome to the court than ye; and I wot\nwell and can make it good, said Sir Ector, it hath cost my lady, the\nqueen, twenty thousand pound the seeking of you. Well brother, said Sir\nLauncelot, I will do after your counsel, and ride with you.\nSo then they took their horses and made them ready, and took their\nleave at King Pelles and at Dame Elaine. And when Sir Launcelot should\ndepart Dame Elaine made great sorrow. My lord, Sir Launcelot, said Dame\nElaine, at this same feast of Pentecost shall your son and mine,\nGalahad, be made knight, for he is fully now fifteen winter old. Do as\nye list, said Sir Launcelot; God give him grace to prove a good knight.\nAs for that, said Dame Elaine, I doubt not he shall prove the best man\nof his kin except one. Then shall he be a man good enough, said Sir\nLauncelot.\nCHAPTER X. How Sir Launcelot with Sir Percivale and Sir Ector came to\nthe court, and of the great joy of him.\nThen they departed, and within five days\u2019 journey they came to Camelot,\nthat is called in English, Winchester. And when Sir Launcelot was come\namong them, the king and all the knights made great joy of him. And\nthere Sir Percivale de Galis and Sir Ector de Maris began and told the\nwhole adventures: that Sir Launcelot had been out of his mind the time\nof his absence, and how he called himself Le Chevaler Mal Fet, the\nknight that had trespassed; and in three days Sir Launcelot smote down\nfive hundred knights. And ever as Sir Ector and Sir Percivale told\nthese tales of Sir Launcelot, Queen Guenever wept as she should have\ndied. Then the queen made great cheer. O Jesu, said King Arthur, I\nmarvel for what cause ye, Sir Launcelot, went out of your mind. I and\nmany others deem it was for the love of fair Elaine, the daughter of\nKing Pelles, by whom ye are noised that ye have gotten a child, and his\nname is Galahad, and men say he shall do marvels. My lord, said Sir\nLauncelot, if I did any folly I have that I sought. And therewithal the\nking spake no more. But all Sir Launcelot\u2019s kin knew for whom he went\nout of his mind. And then there were great feasts made and great joy;\nand many great lords and ladies, when they heard that Sir Launcelot was\ncome to the court again, they made great joy.\nCHAPTER XI. How La Beale Isoud counselled Sir Tristram to go unto the\ncourt, to the great feast of Pentecost.\nNow will we leave off this matter, and speak we of Sir Tristram, and of\nSir Palomides that was the Saracen unchristened. When Sir Tristram was\ncome home unto Joyous Gard from his adventures, all this while that Sir\nLauncelot was thus missed, two year and more, Sir Tristram bare the\nrenown through all the realm of Logris, and many strange adventures\nbefell him, and full well and manly and worshipfully he brought them to\nan end. So when he was come home La Beale Isoud told him of the great\nfeast that should be at Pentecost next following, and there she told\nhim how Sir Launcelot had been missed two year, and all that while he\nhad been out of his mind, and how he was holpen by the holy vessel, the\nSangreal. Alas, said Sir Tristram, that caused some debate betwixt him\nand Queen Guenever. Sir, said Dame Isoud, I know it all, for Queen\nGuenever sent me a letter in the which she wrote me all how it was, for\nto require you to seek him. And now, blessed be God, said La Beale\nIsoud, he is whole and sound and come again to the court.\nThereof am I glad, said Sir Tristram, and now shall ye and I make us\nready, for both ye and I will be at the feast. Sir, said Isoud, an it\nplease you I will not be there, for through me ye be marked of many\ngood knights, and that caused you to have much more labour for my sake\nthan needeth you. Then will I not be there, said Sir Tristram, but if\nye be there. God defend, said La Beale Isoud, for then shall I be\nspoken of shame among all queens and ladies of estate; for ye that are\ncalled one of the noblest knights of the world, and ye a knight of the\nRound Table, how may ye be missed at that feast? What shall be said\namong all knights? See how Sir Tristram hunteth, and hawketh, and\ncowereth within a castle with his lady, and forsaketh your worship.\nAlas, shall some say, it is pity that ever he was made knight, or that\never he should have the love of a lady. Also what shall queens and\nladies say of me? It is pity that I have my life, that I will hold so\nnoble a knight as ye are from his worship. So God me help, said Sir\nTristram unto La Beale Isoud, it is passing well said of you and nobly\ncounselled; and now I well understand that ye love me; and like as ye\nhave counselled me I will do a part thereafter. But there shall no man\nnor child ride with me, but myself. And so will I ride on Tuesday next\ncoming, and no more harness of war but my spear and my sword.\nCHAPTER XII. How Sir Tristram departed unarmed and met with Sir\nPalomides, and how they smote each other, and how Sir Palomides forbare\nhim.\nAnd so when the day came Sir Tristram took his leave at La Beale Isoud,\nand she sent with him four knights, and within half a mile he sent them\nagain: and within a mile after Sir Tristram saw afore him where Sir\nPalomides had stricken down a knight, and almost wounded him to the\ndeath. Then Sir Tristram repented him that he was not armed, and then\nhe hoved still. With that Sir Palomides knew Sir Tristram, and cried on\nhigh: Sir Tristram, now be we met, for or we depart we will redress our\nold sores. As for that, said Sir Tristram, there was yet never\nChristian man might make his boast that ever I fled from him; and wit\nye well, Sir Palomides, thou that art a Saracen shall never make thy\nboast that Sir Tristram de Liones shall flee from thee. And therewith\nSir Tristram made his horse to run, and with all his might he came\nstraight upon Sir Palomides, and brast his spear upon him an hundred\npieces. And forthwithal Sir Tristram drew his sword. And then he turned\nhis horse and struck at Palomides six great strokes upon his helm; and\nthen Sir Palomides stood still, and beheld Sir Tristram, and marvelled\nof his woodness, and of his folly. And then Sir Palomides said to\nhimself: An Sir Tristram were armed, it were hard to cease him of this\nbattle, and if I turn again and slay him I am ashamed wheresomever that\nI go.\nThen Sir Tristram spake and said: Thou coward knight, what castest thou\nto do; why wilt thou not do battle with me? for have thou no doubt I\nshall endure all thy malice. Ah, Sir Tristram, said Palomides, full\nwell thou wottest I may not fight with thee for shame, for thou art\nhere naked and I am armed, and if I slay thee, dishonour shall be mine.\nAnd well thou wottest, said Sir Palomides to Sir Tristram, I know thy\nstrength and thy hardiness to endure against a good knight. That is\ntruth, said Sir Tristram, I understand thy valiantness well. Ye say\nwell, said Sir Palomides; now, I require you, tell me a question that I\nshall say to you. Tell me what it is, said Sir Tristram, and I shall\nanswer you the truth, as God me help. I put case, said Sir Palomides,\nthat ye were armed at all rights as well as I am, and I naked as ye be,\nwhat would you do to me now, by your true knighthood? Ah, said Sir\nTristram, now I understand thee well, Sir Palomides, for now must I say\nmine own judgment, and as God me bless, that I shall say shall not be\nsaid for no fear that I have of thee. But this is all: wit Sir\nPalomides, as at this time thou shouldest depart from me, for I would\nnot have ado with thee. No more will I, said Palomides, and therefore\nride forth on thy way. As for that I may choose, said Sir Tristram,\neither to ride or to abide. But Sir Palomides, said Sir Tristram, I\nmarvel of one thing, that thou that art so good a knight, that thou\nwilt not be christened, and thy brother, Sir Safere, hath been\nchristened many a day.\nCHAPTER XIII. How that Sir Tristram gat him harness of a knight which\nwas hurt, and how he overthrew Sir Palomides.\nAs for that, said Sir Palomides, I may not yet be christened for one\navow that I have made many years agone; howbeit in my heart I believe\nin Jesu Christ and his mild mother Mary; but I have but one battle to\ndo, and when that is done I will be baptised with a good will. By my\nhead, said Tristram, as for one battle thou shalt not seek it no\nlonger. For God defend, said Sir Tristram, that through my default thou\nshouldst longer live thus a Saracen, for yonder is a knight that ye,\nSir Palomides, have hurt and smitten down. Now help me that I were\narmed in his armour, and I shall soon fulfil thine avows. As ye will,\nsaid Palomides, so it shall be.\nSo they rode both unto that knight that sat upon a bank, and then Sir\nTristram saluted him, and he weakly saluted him again. Sir knight, said\nSir Tristram, I require you tell me your right name. Sir, he said, my\nname is Sir Galleron of Galway, and knight of the Table Round. So God\nme help, said Sir Tristram, I am right heavy of your hurts; but this is\nall, I must pray you to lend me all your whole armour, for ye see I am\nunarmed, and I must do battle with this knight. Sir, said the hurt\nknight, ye shall have it with a good will; but ye must beware, for I\nwarn you that knight is wight. Sir, said Galleron, I pray you tell me\nyour name, and what is that knight\u2019s name that hath beaten me. Sir, as\nfor my name it is Sir Tristram de Liones, and as for the knight\u2019s name\nthat hath hurt you is Sir Palomides, brother to the good knight Sir\nSafere, and yet is Sir Palomides unchristened. Alas, said Sir Galleron,\nthat is pity that so good a knight and so noble a man of arms should be\nunchristened. So God me help, said Sir Tristram, either he shall slay\nme or I him but that he shall be christened or ever we depart\nin-sunder. My lord Sir Tristram, said Sir Galleron, your renown and\nworship is well known through many realms, and God save you this day\nfrom shenship and shame.\nThen Sir Tristram unarmed Galleron, the which was a noble knight, and\nhad done many deeds of arms, and he was a large knight of flesh and\nbone. And when he was unarmed he stood upon his feet, for he was\nbruised in the back with a spear; yet so as Sir Galleron might, he\narmed Sir Tristram. And then Sir Tristram mounted upon his own horse,\nand in his hand he gat Sir Galleron\u2019s spear; and therewithal Sir\nPalomides was ready. And so they came hurtling together, and either\nsmote other in midst of their shields; and therewithal Sir Palomides\u2019\nspear brake, and Sir Tristram smote down the horse; and Sir Palomides,\nas soon as he might, avoided his horse, and dressed his shield, and\npulled out his sword. That saw Sir Tristram, and therewithal he\nalighted and tied his horse till a tree.\nCHAPTER XIV. How Sir Tristram and Sir Palomides fought long together,\nand after accorded, and how Sir Tristram made him to be christened.\nAnd then they came together as two wild boars, lashing together,\ntracing and traversing as noble men that oft had been well proved in\nbattle; but ever Sir Palomides dread the might of Sir Tristram, and\ntherefore he suffered him to breathe him. Thus they fought more than\ntwo hours, but often Sir Tristram smote such strokes at Sir Palomides\nthat he made him to kneel; and Sir Palomides brake and cut away many\npieces of Sir Tristram\u2019s shield; and then Sir Palomides wounded Sir\nTristram, for he was a well fighting man. Then Sir Tristram was wood\nwroth out of measure, and rushed upon Sir Palomides with such a might\nthat Sir Palomides fell grovelling to the earth; and therewithal he\nleapt up lightly upon his feet, and then Sir Tristram wounded Palomides\nsore through the shoulder. And ever Sir Tristram fought still in like\nhard, and Sir Palomides failed not, but gave him many sad strokes. And\nat the last Sir Tristram doubled his strokes, and by fortune Sir\nTristram smote Sir Palomides sword out of his hand, and if Sir\nPalomides had stooped for his sword he had been slain.\nThen Palomides stood still and beheld his sword with a sorrowful heart.\nHow now, said Sir Tristram unto Palomides, now have I thee at advantage\nas thou haddest me this day; but it shall never be said in no court,\nnor among good knights, that Sir Tristram shall slay any knight that is\nweaponless; and therefore take thou thy sword, and let us make an end\nof this battle. As for to do this battle, said Palomides, I dare right\nwell end it, but I have no great lust to fight no more. And for this\ncause, said Palomides: mine offence to you is not so great but that we\nmay be friends. All that I have offended is and was for the love of La\nBeale Isoud. And as for her, I dare say she is peerless above all other\nladies, and also I proffered her never no dishonour; and by her I have\ngotten the most part of my worship. And sithen I offended never as to\nher own person, and as for the offence that I have done, it was against\nyour own person, and for that offence ye have given me this day many\nsad strokes, and some I have given you again; and now I dare say I felt\nnever man of your might, nor so well breathed, but if it were Sir\nLauncelot du Lake; wherefore I require you, my lord, forgive me all\nthat I have offended unto you; and this same day have me to the next\nchurch, and first let me be clean confessed, and after see you now that\nI be truly baptised. And then will we all ride together unto the court\nof Arthur, that we be there at the high feast. Now take your horse,\nsaid Sir Tristram, and as ye say so it shall be, and all thine evil\nwill God forgive it you, and I do. And here within this mile is the\nSuffragan of Carlisle that shall give you the sacrament of baptism.\nThen they took their horses and Sir Galleron rode with them. And when\nthey came to the Suffragan Sir Tristram told him their desire. Then the\nSuffragan let fill a great vessel with water, and when he had hallowed\nit he then confessed clean Sir Palomides, and Sir Tristram and Sir\nGalleron were his godfathers. And then soon after they departed, riding\ntoward Camelot, where King Arthur and Queen Guenever was, and for the\nmost part all the knights of the Round Table. And so the king and all\nthe court were glad that Sir Palomides was christened. And at the same\nfeast in came Galahad and sat in the Siege Perilous. And so therewithal\ndeparted and dissevered all the knights of the Round Table. And Sir\nTristram returned again unto Joyous Gard, and Sir Palomides followed\nthe Questing Beast.\n_Here endeth the second book of Sir Tristram that was drawn out of\nFrench into English. But here is no rehersal of the third book. And\nhere followeth the noble tale of the Sangreal, that called is the Holy\nVessel; and the signification of the blessed blood of our Lord Jesus\nChrist, blessed mote it be, the which was brought into this land by\nJoseph Aramathie. Therefore on all sinful souls blessed Lord have thou\nmercy._\n_Explicit liber xii. Et incipit Decimustercius._\nBOOK XIII.\nCHAPTER I. How at the vigil of the Feast of Pentecost entered into the\nhall before King Arthur a damosel, and desired Sir Launcelot for to\ncome and dub a knight, and how he went with her.\nAt the vigil of Pentecost, when all the fellowship of the Round Table\nwere come unto Camelot and there heard their service, and the tables\nwere set ready to the meat, right so entered into the hall a full fair\ngentlewoman on horseback, that had ridden full fast, for her horse was\nall besweated. Then she there alighted, and came before the king and\nsaluted him; and he said: Damosel, God thee bless. Sir, said she, for\nGod\u2019s sake say me where Sir Launcelot is. Yonder ye may see him, said\nthe king. Then she went unto Launcelot and said: Sir Launcelot, I\nsalute you on King Pelles\u2019 behalf, and I require you come on with me\nhereby into a forest. Then Sir Launcelot asked her with whom she\ndwelled. I dwell, said she, with King Pelles. What will ye with me?\nsaid Launcelot. Ye shall know, said she, when ye come thither. Well,\nsaid he, I will gladly go with you. So Sir Launcelot bade his squire\nsaddle his horse and bring his arms; and in all haste he did his\ncommandment.\nThen came the queen unto Launcelot, and said: Will ye leave us at this\nhigh feast? Madam, said the gentlewoman, wit ye well he shall be with\nyou to-morn by dinner time. If I wist, said the queen, that he should\nnot be with us here to-morn he should not go with you by my good will.\nRight so departed Sir Launcelot with the gentlewoman, and rode until\nthat he came into a forest and into a great valley, where they saw an\nabbey of nuns; and there was a squire ready and opened the gates, and\nso they entered and descended off their horses; and there came a fair\nfellowship about Sir Launcelot, and welcomed him, and were passing glad\nof his coming. And then they led him unto the Abbess\u2019s chamber and\nunarmed him; and right so he was ware upon a bed lying two of his\ncousins, Sir Bors and Sir Lionel, and then he waked them; and when they\nsaw him they made great joy. Sir, said Sir Bors unto Sir Launcelot,\nwhat adventure hath brought you hither, for we weened to-morn to have\nfound you at Camelot? As God me help, said Sir Launcelot, a gentlewoman\nbrought me hither, but I know not the cause.\nIn the meanwhile that they thus stood talking together, therein came\ntwelve nuns that brought with them Galahad, the which was passing fair\nand well made, that unnethe in the world men might not find his match:\nand all those ladies wept. Sir, said they all, we bring you here this\nchild the which we have nourished, and we pray you to make him a\nknight, for of a more worthier man\u2019s hand may he not receive the order\nof knighthood. Sir Launcelot beheld the young squire and saw him seemly\nand demure as a dove, with all manner of good features, that he weened\nof his age never to have seen so fair a man of form. Then said Sir\nLauncelot: Cometh this desire of himself? He and all they said yea.\nThen shall he, said Sir Launcelot, receive the high order of knighthood\nas to-morn at the reverence of the high feast. That night Sir Launcelot\nhad passing good cheer; and on the morn at the hour of prime, at\nGalahad\u2019s desire, he made him knight and said: God make him a good man,\nfor of beauty faileth you not as any that liveth.\nCHAPTER II. How the letters were found written in the Siege Perilous\nand of the marvellous adventure of the sword in a stone.\nNow fair sir, said Sir Launcelot, will ye come with me unto the court\nof King Arthur? Nay, said he, I will not go with you as at this time.\nThen he departed from them and took his two cousins with him, and so\nthey came unto Camelot by the hour of underne on Whitsunday. By that\ntime the king and the queen were gone to the minster to hear their\nservice. Then the king and the queen were passing glad of Sir Bors and\nSir Lionel, and so was all the fellowship. So when the king and all the\nknights were come from service, the barons espied in the sieges of the\nRound Table all about, written with golden letters: Here ought to sit\nhe, and he ought to sit here. And thus they went so long till that they\ncame to the Siege Perilous, where they found letters newly written of\ngold which said: Four hundred winters and four and fifty accomplished\nafter the passion of our Lord Jesu Christ ought this siege to be\nfulfilled. Then all they said: This is a marvellous thing and an\nadventurous. In the name of God, said Sir Launcelot; and then accompted\nthe term of the writing from the birth of our Lord unto that day. It\nseemeth me said Sir Launcelot, this siege ought to be fulfilled this\nsame day, for this is the feast of Pentecost after the four hundred and\nfour and fifty year; and if it would please all parties, I would none\nof these letters were seen this day, till he be come that ought to\nenchieve this adventure. Then made they to ordain a cloth of silk, for\nto cover these letters in the Siege Perilous.\nThen the king bade haste unto dinner. Sir, said Sir Kay the Steward, if\nye go now unto your meat ye shall break your old custom of your court,\nfor ye have not used on this day to sit at your meat or that ye have\nseen some adventure. Ye say sooth, said the king, but I had so great\njoy of Sir Launcelot and of his cousins, which be come to the court\nwhole and sound, so that I bethought me not of mine old custom. So, as\nthey stood speaking, in came a squire and said unto the king: Sir, I\nbring unto you marvellous tidings. What be they? said the king. Sir,\nthere is here beneath at the river a great stone which I saw fleet\nabove the water, and therein I saw sticking a sword. The king said: I\nwill see that marvel. So all the knights went with him, and when they\ncame to the river they found there a stone fleeting, as it were of red\nmarble, and therein stuck a fair rich sword, and in the pommel thereof\nwere precious stones wrought with subtle letters of gold. Then the\nbarons read the letters which said in this wise: Never shall man take\nme hence, but only he by whose side I ought to hang, and he shall be\nthe best knight of the world.\nWhen the king had seen the letters, he said unto Sir Launcelot: Fair\nSir, this sword ought to be yours, for I am sure ye be the best knight\nof the world. Then Sir Launcelot answered full soberly: Certes, sir, it\nis not my sword; also, Sir, wit ye well I have no hardiness to set my\nhand to it, for it longed not to hang by my side. Also, who that\nassayeth to take the sword and faileth of it, he shall receive a wound\nby that sword that he shall not be whole long after. And I will that ye\nwit that this same day shall the adventures of the Sangreal, that is\ncalled the Holy Vessel, begin.\nCHAPTER III. How Sir Gawaine assayed to draw out the sword, and how an\nold man brought in Galahad.\nNow, fair nephew, said the king unto Sir Gawaine, assay ye, for my\nlove. Sir, he said, save your good grace I shall not do that. Sir, said\nthe king, assay to take the sword and at my commandment. Sir, said\nGawaine, your commandment I will obey. And therewith he took up the\nsword by the handles, but he might not stir it. I thank you, said the\nking to Sir Gawaine. My lord Sir Gawaine, said Sir Launcelot, now wit\nye well this sword shall touch you so sore that ye shall will ye had\nnever set your hand thereto for the best castle of this realm. Sir, he\nsaid, I might not withsay mine uncle\u2019s will and commandment. But when\nthe king heard this he repented it much, and said unto Sir Percivale\nthat he should assay, for his love. And he said: Gladly, for to bear\nSir Gawaine fellowship. And therewith he set his hand on the sword and\ndrew it strongly, but he might not move it. Then were there no more\nthat durst be so hardy to set their hands thereto. Now may ye go to\nyour dinner, said Sir Kay unto the king, for a marvellous adventure\nhave ye seen. So the king and all went unto the court, and every knight\nknew his own place, and set him therein, and young men that were\nknights served them.\nSo when they were served, and all sieges fulfilled save only the Siege\nPerilous, anon there befell a marvellous adventure, that all the doors\nand windows of the palace shut by themself. Not for then the hall was\nnot greatly darked; and therewith they were all abashed both one and\nother. Then King Arthur spake first and said: By God, fair fellows and\nlords, we have seen this day marvels, but or night I suppose we shall\nsee greater marvels.\nIn the meanwhile came in a good old man, and an ancient, clothed all in\nwhite, and there was no knight knew from whence he came. And with him\nhe brought a young knight, both on foot, in red arms, without sword or\nshield, save a scabbard hanging by his side. And these words he said:\nPeace be with you, fair lords. Then the old man said unto Arthur: Sir,\nI bring here a young knight, the which is of king\u2019s lineage, and of the\nkindred of Joseph of Aramathie, whereby the marvels of this court, and\nof strange realms, shall be fully accomplished.\nCHAPTER IV. How the old man brought Galahad to the Siege Perilous and\nset him therein, and how all the knights marvelled.\nThe king was right glad of his words, and said unto the good man: Sir,\nye be right welcome, and the young knight with you. Then the old man\nmade the young man to unarm him, and he was in a coat of red sendal,\nand bare a mantle upon his shoulder that was furred with ermine, and\nput that upon him. And the old knight said unto the young knight: Sir,\nfollow me. And anon he led him unto the Siege Perilous, where beside\nsat Sir Launcelot; and the good man lift up the cloth, and found there\nletters that said thus: This is the siege of Galahad, the haut prince.\nSir, said the old knight, wit ye well that place is yours. And then he\nset him down surely in that siege. And then he said to the old man:\nSir, ye may now go your way, for well have ye done that ye were\ncommanded to do; and recommend me unto my grandsire, King Pelles, and\nunto my lord Petchere, and say them on my behalf, I shall come and see\nthem as soon as ever I may. So the good man departed; and there met him\ntwenty noble squires, and so took their horses and went their way.\nThen all the knights of the Table Round marvelled greatly of Sir\nGalahad, that he durst sit there in that Siege Perilous, and was so\ntender of age; and wist not from whence he came but all only by God;\nand said: This is he by whom the Sangreal shall be enchieved, for there\nsat never none but he, but he were mischieved. Then Sir Launcelot\nbeheld his son and had great joy of him. Then Bors told his fellows:\nUpon pain of my life this young knight shall come unto great worship.\nThis noise was great in all the court, so that it came to the queen.\nThen she had marvel what knight it might be that durst adventure him to\nsit in the Siege Perilous. Many said unto the queen he resembled much\nunto Sir Launcelot. I may well suppose, said the queen, that Sir\nLauncelot begat him on King Pelles\u2019 daughter, by the which he was made\nto lie by, by enchantment, and his name is Galahad. I would fain see\nhim, said the queen, for he must needs be a noble man, for so is his\nfather that him begat, I report me unto all the Table Round.\nSo when the meat was done that the king and all were risen, the king\nyede unto the Siege Perilous and lift up the cloth, and found there the\nname of Galahad; and then he shewed it unto Sir Gawaine, and said: Fair\nnephew, now have we among us Sir Galahad, the good knight that shall\nworship us all; and upon pain of my life he shall enchieve the\nSangreal, right as Sir Launcelot had done us to understand. Then came\nKing Arthur unto Galahad and said: Sir, ye be welcome, for ye shall\nmove many good knights to the quest of the Sangreal, and ye shall\nenchieve that never knights might bring to an end. Then the king took\nhim by the hand, and went down from the palace to shew Galahad the\nadventures of the stone.\nCHAPTER V. How King Arthur shewed the stone hoving on the water to\nGalahad, and how he drew out the sword.\nThe queen heard thereof, and came after with many ladies, and shewed\nthem the stone where it hoved on the water. Sir, said the king unto Sir\nGalahad, here is a great marvel as ever I saw, and right good knights\nhave assayed and failed. Sir, said Galahad, that is no marvel, for this\nadventure is not theirs but mine; and for the surety of this sword I\nbrought none with me, for here by my side hangeth the scabbard. And\nanon he laid his hand on the sword, and lightly drew it out of the\nstone, and put it in the sheath, and said unto the king: Now it goeth\nbetter than it did aforehand. Sir, said the king, a shield God shall\nsend you. Now have I that sword that sometime was the good knight\u2019s,\nBalin le Savage, and he was a passing good man of his hands; and with\nthis sword he slew his brother Balan, and that was great pity, for he\nwas a good knight, and either slew other through a dolorous stroke that\nBalin gave unto my grandfather King Pelles, the which is not yet whole,\nnor not shall be till I heal him.\nTherewith the king and all espied where came riding down the river a\nlady on a white palfrey toward them. Then she saluted the king and the\nqueen, and asked if that Sir Launcelot was there. And then he answered\nhimself: I am here, fair lady. Then she said all with weeping: How your\ngreat doing is changed sith this day in the morn. Damosel, why say you\nso? said Launcelot. I say you sooth, said the damosel, for ye were this\nday the best knight of the world, but who should say so now, he should\nbe a liar, for there is now one better than ye, and well it is proved\nby the adventures of the sword whereto ye durst not set to your hand;\nand that is the change and leaving of your name. Wherefore I make unto\nyou a remembrance, that ye shall not ween from henceforth that ye be\nthe best knight of the world. As touching unto that, said Launcelot, I\nknow well I was never the best. Yes, said the damosel, that were ye,\nand are yet, of any sinful man of the world. And, Sir king, Nacien, the\nhermit, sendeth thee word, that thee shall befall the greatest worship\nthat ever befell king in Britain; and I say you wherefore, for this day\nthe Sangreal appeared in thy house and fed thee and all thy fellowship\nof the Round Table. So she departed and went that same way that she\ncame.\nCHAPTER VI. How King Arthur had all the knights together for to joust\nin the meadow beside Camelot or they departed.\nNow, said the king, I am sure at this quest of the Sangreal shall all\nye of the Table Round depart, and never shall I see you again whole\ntogether; therefore I will see you all whole together in the meadow of\nCamelot to joust and to tourney, that after your death men may speak of\nit that such good knights were wholly together such a day. As unto that\ncounsel and at the king\u2019s request they accorded all, and took on their\nharness that longed unto jousting. But all this moving of the king was\nfor this intent, for to see Galahad proved; for the king deemed he\nshould not lightly come again unto the court after his departing. So\nwere they assembled in the meadow, both more and less. Then Sir\nGalahad, by the prayer of the king and the queen, did upon him a noble\njesseraunce, and also he did on his helm, but shield would he take none\nfor no prayer of the king. And then Sir Gawaine and other knights\nprayed him to take a spear. Right so he did; and the queen was in a\ntower with all her ladies, for to behold that tournament. Then Sir\nGalahad dressed him in midst of the meadow, and began to break spears\nmarvellously, that all men had wonder of him; for he there surmounted\nall other knights, for within a while he had defouled many good knights\nof the Table Round save twain, that was Sir Launcelot and Sir\nPercivale.\nCHAPTER VII. How the queen desired to see Galahad; and how after, all\nthe knights were replenished with the Holy Sangreal, and how they\navowed the enquest of the same.\nThen the king, at the queen\u2019s request, made him to alight and to unlace\nhis helm, that the queen might see him in the visage. When she beheld\nhim she said: Soothly I dare well say that Sir Launcelot begat him, for\nnever two men resembled more in likeness, therefore it nis no marvel\nthough he be of great prowess. So a lady that stood by the queen said:\nMadam, for God\u2019s sake ought he of right to be so good a knight? Yea,\nforsooth, said the queen, for he is of all parties come of the best\nknights of the world and of the highest lineage; for Sir Launcelot is\ncome but of the eighth degree from our Lord Jesu Christ, and Sir\nGalahad is of the ninth degree from our Lord Jesu Christ, therefore I\ndare say they be the greatest gentlemen of the world.\nAnd then the king and all estates went home unto Camelot, and so went\nto evensong to the great minster, and so after upon that to supper, and\nevery knight sat in his own place as they were toforehand. Then anon\nthey heard cracking and crying of thunder, that them thought the place\nshould all to-drive. In the midst of this blast entered a sunbeam more\nclearer by seven times than ever they saw day, and all they were\nalighted of the grace of the Holy Ghost. Then began every knight to\nbehold other, and either saw other, by their seeming, fairer than ever\nthey saw afore. Not for then there was no knight might speak one word a\ngreat while, and so they looked every man on other as they had been\ndumb. Then there entered into the hall the Holy Grail covered with\nwhite samite, but there was none might see it, nor who bare it. And\nthere was all the hall fulfilled with good odours, and every knight had\nsuch meats and drinks as he best loved in this world. And when the Holy\nGrail had been borne through the hall, then the holy vessel departed\nsuddenly, that they wist not where it became: then had they all breath\nto speak. And then the king yielded thankings to God, of His good grace\nthat he had sent them. Certes, said the king, we ought to thank our\nLord Jesu greatly for that he hath shewed us this day, at the reverence\nof this high feast of Pentecost.\nNow, said Sir Gawaine, we have been served this day of what meats and\ndrinks we thought on; but one thing beguiled us, we might not see the\nHoly Grail, it was so preciously covered. Wherefore I will make here\navow, that to-morn, without longer abiding, I shall labour in the quest\nof the Sangreal, that I shall hold me out a twelvemonth and a day, or\nmore if need be, and never shall I return again unto the court till I\nhave seen it more openly than it hath been seen here; and if I may not\nspeed I shall return again as he that may not be against the will of\nour Lord Jesu Christ.\nWhen they of the Table Round heard Sir Gawaine say so, they arose up\nthe most part and made such avows as Sir Gawaine had made. Anon as King\nArthur heard this he was greatly displeased, for he wist well they\nmight not again-say their avows. Alas, said King Arthur unto Sir\nGawaine, ye have nigh slain me with the avow and promise that ye have\nmade; for through you ye have bereft me the fairest fellowship and the\ntruest of knighthood that ever were seen together in any realm of the\nworld; for when they depart from hence I am sure they all shall never\nmeet more in this world, for they shall die many in the quest. And so\nit forthinketh me a little, for I have loved them as well as my life,\nwherefore it shall grieve me right sore, the departition of this\nfellowship: for I have had an old custom to have them in my fellowship.\nCHAPTER VIII. How great sorrow was made of the king and the queen and\nladies for the departing of the knights, and how they departed.\nAnd therewith the tears fell in his eyes. And then he said: Gawaine,\nGawaine, ye have set me in great sorrow, for I have great doubt that my\ntrue fellowship shall never meet here more again. Ah, said Sir\nLauncelot, comfort yourself; for it shall be unto us a great honour and\nmuch more than if we died in any other places, for of death we be\nsiker. Ah, Launcelot, said the king, the great love that I have had\nunto you all the days of my life maketh me to say such doleful words;\nfor never Christian king had never so many worthy men at his table as I\nhave had this day at the Round Table, and that is my great sorrow.\nWhen the queen, ladies, and gentlewomen, wist these tidings, they had\nsuch sorrow and heaviness that there might no tongue tell it, for those\nknights had held them in honour and chiert\u00e9. But among all other Queen\nGuenever made great sorrow. I marvel, said she, my lord would suffer\nthem to depart from him. Thus was all the court troubled for the love\nof the departition of those knights. And many of those ladies that\nloved knights would have gone with their lovers; and so had they done,\nhad not an old knight come among them in religious clothing; and then\nhe spake all on high and said: Fair lords, which have sworn in the\nquest of the Sangreal, thus sendeth you Nacien, the hermit, word, that\nnone in this quest lead lady nor gentlewoman with him, for it is not to\ndo in so high a service as they labour in; for I warn you plain, he\nthat is not clean of his sins he shall not see the mysteries of our\nLord Jesu Christ. And for this cause they left these ladies and\ngentlewomen.\nAfter this the queen came unto Galahad and asked him of whence he was,\nand of what country. He told her of whence he was. And son unto\nLauncelot, she said he was. As to that, he said neither yea nor nay. So\nGod me help, said the queen, of your father ye need not to shame you,\nfor he is the goodliest knight, and of the best men of the world come,\nand of the strain, of all parties, of kings. Wherefore ye ought of\nright to be, of your deeds, a passing good man; and certainly, she\nsaid, ye resemble him much. Then Sir Galahad was a little ashamed and\nsaid: Madam, sith ye know in certain, wherefore do ye ask it me? for he\nthat is my father shall be known openly and all betimes. And then they\nwent to rest them. And in the honour of the highness of Galahad he was\nled into King Arthur\u2019s chamber, and there rested in his own bed.\nAnd as soon as it was day the king arose, for he had no rest of all\nthat night for sorrow. Then he went unto Gawaine and to Sir Launcelot\nthat were arisen for to hear mass. And then the king again said: Ah\nGawaine, Gawaine, ye have betrayed me; for never shall my court be\namended by you, but ye will never be sorry for me as I am for you. And\ntherewith the tears began to run down by his visage. And therewith the\nking said: Ah, knight Sir Launcelot, I require thee thou counsel me,\nfor I would that this quest were undone, an it might be Sir, said Sir\nLauncelot, ye saw yesterday so many worthy knights that then were sworn\nthat they may not leave it in no manner of wise. That wot I well, said\nthe king, but it shall so heavy me at their departing that I wot well\nthere shall no manner of joy remedy me. And then the king and the queen\nwent unto the minster. So anon Launcelot and Gawaine commanded their\nmen to bring their arms. And when they all were armed save their\nshields and their helms, then they came to their fellowship, which were\nall ready in the same wise, for to go to the minster to hear their\nservice.\nThen after the service was done the king would wit how many had\nundertaken the quest of the Holy Grail; and to accompt them he prayed\nthem all. Then found they by the tale an hundred and fifty, and all\nwere knights of the Round Table. And then they put on their helms and\ndeparted, and recommended them all wholly unto the queen; and there was\nweeping and great sorrow. Then the queen departed into her chamber and\nheld her, so that no man should perceive her great sorrows. When Sir\nLauncelot missed the queen he went till her chamber, and when she saw\nhim she cried aloud: O Launcelot, Launcelot, ye have betrayed me and\nput me to the death, for to leave thus my lord. Ah, madam, I pray you\nbe not displeased, for I shall come again as soon as I may with my\nworship. Alas, said she, that ever I saw you; but he that suffered upon\nthe cross for all mankind, he be unto you good conduct and safety, and\nall the whole fellowship.\nRight so departed Sir Launcelot, and found his fellowship that abode\nhis coming. And so they mounted upon their horses and rode through the\nstreets of Camelot; and there was weeping of rich and poor, and the\nking turned away and might not speak for weeping. So within a while\nthey came to a city, and a castle that hight Vagon. There they entered\ninto the castle, and the lord of that castle was an old man that hight\nVagon, and he was a good man of his living, and set open the gates, and\nmade them all the cheer that he might. And so on the morn they were all\naccorded that they should depart everych from other; and on the morn\nthey departed with weeping cheer, and every knight took the way that\nhim liked best.\nCHAPTER IX. How Galahad gat him a shield, and how they sped that\npresumed to take down the said shield.\nNow rideth Sir Galahad yet without shield, and so he rode four days\nwithout any adventure. And at the fourth day after evensong he came to\na White Abbey, and there he was received with great reverence, and led\nunto a chamber, and there was he unarmed; and then was he ware of two\nknights of the Table Round, one was Sir Bagdemagus, and Sir Uwaine.\nAnd when they saw him they went unto Galahad and made of him great\nsolace, and so they went unto supper. Sirs, said Sir Galahad, what\nadventure brought you hither? Sir, said they, it is told us that within\nthis place is a shield that no man may bear about his neck but he be\nmischieved outher dead within three days, or maimed for ever. Ah sir,\nsaid King Bagdemagus, I shall it bear to-morrow for to assay this\nadventure. In the name of God, said Sir Galahad. Sir, said Bagdemagus,\nan I may not enchieve the adventure of this shield ye shall take it\nupon you, for I am sure ye shall not fail. Sir, said Galahad, I right\nwell agree me thereto, for I have no shield. So on the morn they arose\nand heard mass. Then Bagdemagus asked where the adventurous shield was.\nAnon a monk led him behind an altar where the shield hung as white as\nany snow, but in the midst was a red cross. Sir, said the monk, this\nshield ought not to be hanged about no knight\u2019s neck but he be the\nworthiest knight of the world;\ntherefore I counsel you knights to be well advised. Well, said\nBagdemagus, I wot well that I am not the best knight of the world, but\nyet I shall assay to bear it, and so bare it out of the minster. And\nthen he said unto Galahad: An it please you abide here still, till ye\nwit how that I speed. I shall abide you, said Galahad. Then King\nBagdemagus took with him a good squire, to bring tidings unto Sir\nGalahad how he sped.\nThen when they had ridden a two mile and came to a fair valley afore an\nhermitage, then they saw a knight come from that part in white armour,\nhorse and all; and he came as fast as his horse might run, and his\nspear in his rest, and Bagdemagus dressed his spear against him and\nbrake it upon the white knight. But the other struck him so hard that\nhe brast the mails, and sheef him through the right shoulder, for the\nshield covered him not as at that time; and so he bare him from his\nhorse. And therewith he alighted and took the white shield from him,\nsaying: Knight, thou hast done thyself great folly, for this shield\nought not to be borne but by him that shall have no peer that liveth.\nAnd then he came to Bagdemagus\u2019 squire and said: Bear this shield unto\nthe good knight Sir Galahad, that thou left in the abbey, and greet him\nwell by me. Sir, said the squire, what is your name? Take thou no heed\nof my name, said the knight, for it is not for thee to know nor for\nnone earthly man. Now, fair sir, said the squire, at the reverence of\nJesu Christ, tell me for what cause this shield may not be borne but if\nthe bearer thereof be mischieved. Now sith thou hast conjured me so,\nsaid the knight, this shield behoveth unto no man but unto Galahad. And\nthe squire went unto Bagdemagus and asked whether he were sore wounded\nor not. Yea forsooth, said he, I shall escape hard from the death. Then\nhe fetched his horse, and brought him with great pain unto an abbey.\nThen was he taken down softly and unarmed, and laid in a bed, and there\nwas looked to his wounds. And as the book telleth, he lay there long,\nand escaped hard with the life.\nCHAPTER X. How Galahad departed with the shield, and how King Evelake\nhad received the shield of Joseph of Aramathie.\nSir Galahad, said the squire, that knight that wounded Bagdemagus\nsendeth you greeting, and bade that ye should bear this shield,\nwherethrough great adventures should befall. Now blessed be God and\nfortune, said Galahad. And then he asked his arms, and mounted upon his\nhorse, and hung the white shield about his neck, and commended them\nunto God. And Sir Uwaine said he would bear him fellowship if it\npleased him. Sir, said Galahad, that may ye not, for I must go alone,\nsave this squire shall bear me fellowship: and so departed Uwaine.\nThen within a while came Galahad thereas the White Knight abode him by\nthe hermitage, and everych saluted other courteously. Sir, said\nGalahad, by this shield be many marvels fallen. Sir, said the knight,\nit befell after the passion of our Lord Jesu Christ thirty-two year,\nthat Joseph of Aramathie, the gentle knight, the which took down our\nLord off the holy Cross, at that time he departed from Jerusalem with a\ngreat party of his kindred with him. And so he laboured till that they\ncame to a city that hight Sarras. And at that same hour that Joseph\ncame to Sarras there was a king that hight Evelake, that had great war\nagainst the Saracens, and in especial against one Saracen, the which\nwas King Evelake\u2019s cousin, a rich king and a mighty, which marched nigh\nthis land, and his name was called Tolleme la Feintes. So on a day\nthese two met to do battle. Then Joseph, the son of Joseph of\nAramathie, went to King Evelake and told him he should be discomfit and\nslain, but if he left his belief of the old law and believed upon the\nnew law. And then there he shewed him the right belief of the Holy\nTrinity, to the which he agreed unto with all his heart; and there this\nshield was made for King Evelake, in the name of Him that died upon the\nCross. And then through his good belief he had the better of King\nTolleme. For when Evelake was in the battle there was a cloth set afore\nthe shield, and when he was in the greatest peril he let put away the\ncloth, and then his enemies saw a figure of a man on the Cross,\nwherethrough they all were discomfit. And so it befell that a man of\nKing Evelake\u2019s was smitten his hand off, and bare that hand in his\nother hand; and Joseph called that man unto him and bade him go with\ngood devotion touch the Cross. And as soon as that man had touched the\nCross with his hand it was as whole as ever it was to-fore. Then soon\nafter there fell a great marvel, that the cross of the shield at one\ntime vanished away that no man wist where it became. And then King\nEvelake was baptised, and for the most part all the people of that\ncity. So, soon after Joseph would depart, and King Evelake would go\nwith him, whether he wold or nold. And so by fortune they came into\nthis land, that at that time was called Great Britain; and there they\nfound a great felon paynim, that put Joseph into prison. And so by\nfortune tidings came unto a worthy man that hight Mondrames, and he\nassembled all his people for the great renown he had heard of Joseph;\nand so he came into the land of Great Britain and disherited this felon\npaynim and consumed him, and therewith delivered Joseph out of prison.\nAnd after that all the people were turned to the Christian faith.\nCHAPTER XI. How Joseph made a cross on the white shield with his blood,\nand how Galahad was by a monk brought to a tomb.\nNot long after that Joseph was laid in his deadly bed. And when King\nEvelake saw that he made much sorrow, and said: For thy love I have\nleft my country, and sith ye shall depart out of this world, leave me\nsome token of yours that I may think on you. Joseph said: That will I\ndo full gladly; now bring me your shield that I took you when ye went\ninto battle against King Tolleme. Then Joseph bled sore at the nose, so\nthat he might not by no mean be staunched. And there upon that shield\nhe made a cross of his own blood. Now may ye see a remembrance that I\nlove you, for ye shall never see this shield but ye shall think on me,\nand it shall be always as fresh as it is now. And never shall man bear\nthis shield about his neck but he shall repent it, unto the time that\nGalahad, the good knight, bear it; and the last of my lineage shall\nhave it about his neck, that shall do many marvellous deeds. Now, said\nKing Evelake, where shall I put this shield, that this worthy knight\nmay have it? Ye shall leave it thereas Nacien, the hermit, shall be put\nafter his death; for thither shall that good knight come the fifteenth\nday after that he shall receive the order of knighthood: and so that\nday that they set is this time that he have his shield, and in the same\nabbey lieth Nacien, the hermit. And then the White Knight vanished\naway.\nAnon as the squire had heard these words, he alighted off his hackney\nand kneeled down at Galahad\u2019s feet, and prayed him that he might go\nwith him till he had made him knight.\nIf I would not refuse you.\nThen will ye make me a knight? said the squire, and that order, by the\ngrace of God, shall be well set in me.\nSo Sir Galahad granted him, and turned again unto the abbey where they\ncame from; and there men made great joy of Sir Galahad. And anon as he\nwas alighted there was a monk brought him unto a tomb in a churchyard,\nwhere there was such a noise that who that heard it should verily nigh\nbe mad or lose his strength: and sir, they said, we deem it is a fiend.\nCHAPTER XII. Of the marvel that Sir Galahad saw and heard in the tomb,\nand how he made Melias knight.\nNow lead me thither, said Galahad. And so they did, all armed save his\nhelm. Now, said the good man, go to the tomb and lift it up. So he did,\nand heard a great noise; and piteously he said, that all men might hear\nit: Sir Galahad, the servant of Jesu Christ, come thou not nigh me, for\nthou shalt make me go again there where I have been so long. But\nGalahad was nothing afraid, but lifted up the stone; and there came out\nso foul a smoke, and after he saw the foulest figure leap thereout that\never he saw in the likeness of a man; and then he blessed him and wist\nwell it was a fiend. Then heard he a voice say Galahad, I see there\nenviron about thee so many angels that my power may not dere thee{sic}\nRight so Sir Galahad saw a body all armed lie in that tomb, and beside\nhim a sword. Now, fair brother, said Galahad, let us remove this body,\nfor it is not worthy to lie in this churchyard, for he was a false\nChristian man. And therewith they all departed and went to the abbey.\nAnd anon as he was unarmed a good man came and set him down by him and\nsaid: Sir, I shall tell you what betokeneth all that ye saw in the\ntomb; for that covered body betokeneth the duresse of the world, and\nthe great sin that Our Lord found in the world. For there was such\nwretchedness that the father loved not the son, nor the son loved not\nthe father; and that was one of the causes that Our Lord took flesh and\nblood of a clean maiden, for our sins were so great at that time that\nwell-nigh all was wickedness. Truly, said Galahad, I believe you right\nwell.\nSo Sir Galahad rested him there that night; and upon the morn he made\nthe squire knight, and asked him his name, and of what kindred he was\ncome. Sir, said he, men calleth me Melias de Lile, and I am the son of\nthe King of Denmark. Now, fair sir, said Galahad, sith that ye be come\nof kings and queens, now look that knighthood be well set in you, for\nye ought to be a mirror unto all chivalry. Sir, said Sir Melias, ye say\nsooth. But, sir, sithen ye have made me a knight ye must of right grant\nme my first desire that is reasonable. Ye say sooth, said Galahad.\nMelias said: Then that ye will suffer me to ride with you in this quest\nof the Sangreal, till that some adventure depart us. I grant you, sir.\nThen men brought Sir Melias his armour and his spear and his horse, and\nso Sir Galahad and he rode forth all that week or they found any\nadventure. And then upon a Monday in the morning, as they were departed\nfrom an abbey, they came to a cross which departed two ways, and in\nthat cross were letters written that said thus: Now, ye knights errant,\nthe which goeth to seek knights adventurous, see here two ways; that\none way defendeth thee that thou ne go that way, for he shall not go\nout of the way again but if he be a good man and a worthy knight; and\nif thou go on the left hand, thou shalt not lightly there win prowess,\nfor thou shalt in this way be soon assayed. Sir, said Melias to\nGalahad, if it like you to suffer me to take the way on the left hand,\ntell me, for there I shall well prove my strength. It were better, said\nGalahad, ye rode not that way, for I deem I should better escape in\nthat way than ye. Nay, my lord, I pray you let me have that adventure.\nTake it in God\u2019s name, said Galahad.\nCHAPTER XIII. Of the adventure that Melias had, and how Galahad\nrevenged him, and how Melias was carried into an abbey.\nAnd then rode Melias into an old forest, and therein he rode two days\nand more. And then he came into a fair meadow, and there was a fair\nlodge of boughs. And then he espied in that lodge a chair, wherein was\na crown of gold, subtly wrought. Also there were cloths covered upon\nthe earth, and many delicious meats set thereon. Sir Melias beheld this\nadventure, and thought it marvellous, but he had no hunger, but of the\ncrown of gold he took much keep; and therewith he stooped down and took\nit up, and rode his way with it. And anon he saw a knight came riding\nafter him that said: Knight, set down that crown which is not yours,\nand therefore defend you. Then Sir Melias blessed him and said: Fair\nlord of heaven, help and save thy new-made knight. And then they let\ntheir horses run as fast as they might, so that the other knight smote\nSir Melias through hauberk and through the left side, that he fell to\nthe earth nigh dead. And then he took the crown and went his way; and\nSir Melias lay still and had no power to stir.\nIn the meanwhile by fortune there came Sir Galahad and found him there\nin peril of death. And then he said: Ah Melias, who hath wounded you?\ntherefore it had been better to have ridden the other way. And when Sir\nMelias heard him speak: Sir, he said, for God\u2019s love let me not die in\nthis forest, but bear me unto the abbey here beside, that I may be\nconfessed and have my rights. It shall be done, said Galahad, but where\nis he that hath wounded you? With that Sir Galahad heard in the leaves\ncry on high: Knight, keep thee from me. Ah sir, said Melias, beware,\nfor that is he that hath slain me. Sir Galahad answered: Sir knight,\ncome on your peril. Then either dressed to other, and came together as\nfast as their horses might run, and Galahad smote him so that his spear\nwent through his shoulder, and smote him down off his horse, and in the\nfalling Galahad\u2019s spear brake.\nWith that came out another knight out of the leaves, and brake a spear\nupon Galahad or ever he might turn him. Then Galahad drew out his sword\nand smote off the left arm of him, so that it fell to the earth. And\nthen he fled, and Sir Galahad pursued fast after him. And then he\nturned again unto Sir Melias, and there he alighted and dressed him\nsoftly on his horse to-fore him, for the truncheon of his spear was in\nhis body; and Sir Galahad stert up behind him, and held him in his\narms, and so brought him to the abbey, and there unarmed him and\nbrought him to his chamber. And then he asked his Saviour. And when he\nhad received Him he said unto Sir Galahad: Sir, let death come when it\npleaseth him. And therewith he drew out the truncheon of the spear out\nof his body: and then he swooned.\nThen came there an old monk which sometime had been a knight, and\nbeheld Sir Melias. And anon he ransacked him; and then he said unto Sir\nGalahad: I shall heal him of his wound, by the grace of God, within the\nterm of seven weeks. Then was Sir Galahad glad, and unarmed him, and\nsaid he would abide there three days. And then he asked Sir Melias how\nit stood with him. Then he said he was turned unto helping, God be\nthanked.\nCHAPTER XIV. How Sir Galahad departed, and how he was commanded to go\nto the Castle of Maidens to destroy the wicked custom.\nNow will I depart, said Galahad, for I have much on hand, for many good\nknights be full busy about it, and this knight and I were in the same\nquest of the Sangreal. Sir, said a good man, for his sin he was thus\nwounded; and I marvel, said the good man, how ye durst take upon you so\nrich a thing as the high order of knighthood without clean confession,\nand that was the cause ye were bitterly wounded. For the way on the\nright hand betokeneth the highway of our Lord Jesu Christ, and the way\nof a good true good liver. And the other way betokeneth the way of\nsinners and of misbelievers. And when the devil saw your pride and\npresumption, for to take you in the quest of the Sangreal, that made\nyou to be overthrown, for it may not be enchieved but by virtuous\nliving. Also, the writing on the cross was a signification of heavenly\ndeeds, and of knightly deeds in God\u2019s works, and no knightly deeds in\nworldly works. And pride is head of all deadly sins, that caused this\nknight to depart from Galahad. And where thou tookest the crown of gold\nthou sinnest in covetise and in theft: all this were no knightly deeds.\nAnd this Galahad, the holy knight, the which fought with the two\nknights, the two knights signify the two deadly sins which were wholly\nin this knight Melias; and they might not withstand you, for ye are\nwithout deadly sin.\nNow departed Galahad from thence, and betaught them all unto God. Sir\nMelias said: My lord Galahad, as soon as I may ride I shall seek you.\nGod send you health, said Galahad, and so took his horse and departed,\nand rode many journeys forward and backward, as adventure would lead\nhim. And at the last it happened him to depart from a place or a castle\nthe which was named Abblasoure; and he had heard no mass, the which he\nwas wont ever to hear or ever he departed out of any castle or place,\nand kept that for a custom. Then Sir Galahad came unto a mountain where\nhe found an old chapel, and found there nobody, for all, all was\ndesolate; and there he kneeled to-fore the altar, and besought God of\nwholesome counsel. So as he prayed he heard a voice that said: Go thou\nnow, thou adventurous knight, to the Castle of Maidens, and there do\nthou away the wicked customs.\nCHAPTER XV. How Sir Galahad fought with the knights of the castle, and\ndestroyed the wicked custom.\nWhen Sir Galahad heard this he thanked God, and took his horse; and he\nhad not ridden but half a mile, he saw in the valley afore him a strong\ncastle with deep ditches, and there ran beside it a fair river that\nhight Severn; and there he met with a man of great age, and either\nsaluted other, and Galahad asked him the castle\u2019s name. Fair sir, said\nhe, it is the Castle of Maidens. That is a cursed castle, said Galahad,\nand all they that be conversant therein, for all pity is out thereof,\nand all hardiness and mischief is therein. Therefore, I counsel you,\nsir knight, to turn again. Sir, said Galahad, wit you well I shall not\nturn again. Then looked Sir Galahad on his arms that nothing failed\nhim, and then he put his shield afore him; and anon there met him seven\nfair maidens, the which said unto him: Sir knight, ye ride here in a\ngreat folly, for ye have the water to pass over. Why should I not pass\nthe water? said Galahad. So rode he away from them and met with a\nsquire that said: Knight, those knights in the castle defy you, and\ndefenden you ye go no further till that they wit what ye would. Fair\nsir, said Galahad, I come for to destroy the wicked custom of this\ncastle. Sir, an ye will abide by that ye shall have enough to do. Go\nyou now, said Galahad, and haste my needs.\nThen the squire entered into the castle. And anon after there came out\nof the castle seven knights, and all were brethren. And when they saw\nGalahad they cried: Knight, keep thee, for we assure thee nothing but\ndeath. Why, said Galahad, will ye all have ado with me at once? Yea,\nsaid they, thereto mayst thou trust. Then Galahad put forth his spear\nand smote the foremost to the earth, that near he brake his neck. And\ntherewithal the other smote him on his shield great strokes, so that\ntheir spears brake. Then Sir Galahad drew out his sword, and set upon\nthem so hard that it was marvel to see it, and so through great force\nhe made them to forsake the field; and Galahad chased them till they\nentered into the castle, and so passed through the castle at another\ngate.\nAnd there met Sir Galahad an old man clothed in religious clothing, and\nsaid: Sir, have here the keys of this castle. Then Sir Galahad opened\nthe gates, and saw so much people in the streets that he might not\nnumber them, and all said: Sir, ye be welcome, for long have we abiden\nhere our deliverance. Then came to him a gentlewoman and said: These\nknights be fled, but they will come again this night, and here to begin\nagain their evil custom. What will ye that I shall do? said Galahad.\nSir, said the gentlewoman, that ye send after all the knights hither\nthat hold their lands of this castle, and make them to swear for to use\nthe customs that were used heretofore of old time. I will well, said\nGalahad. And there she brought him an horn of ivory, bounden with gold\nrichly, and said: Sir, blow this horn which will be heard two mile\nabout this castle. When Sir Galahad had blown the horn he set him down\nupon a bed.\nThen came a priest to Galahad, and said: Sir, it is past a seven year\nagone that these seven brethren came into this castle, and harboured\nwith the lord of this castle that hight the Duke Lianour, and he was\nlord of all this country. And when they espied the duke\u2019s daughter,\nthat was a full fair woman, then by their false covin they made debate\nbetwixt themself, and the duke of his goodness would have departed\nthem, and there they slew him and his eldest son. And then they took\nthe maiden and the treasure of the castle. And then by great force they\nheld all the knights of this castle against their will under their\nobeissance, and in great service and truage, robbing and pilling the\npoor common people of all that they had. So it happened on a day the\nduke\u2019s daughter said: Ye have done unto me great wrong to slay mine own\nfather, and my brother, and thus to hold our lands: not for then, she\nsaid, ye shall not hold this castle for many years, for by one knight\nye shall be overcome. Thus she prophesied seven years agone. Well, said\nthe seven knights, sithen ye say so, there shall never lady nor knight\npass this castle but they shall abide maugre their heads, or die\ntherefore, till that knight be come by whom we shall lose this castle.\nAnd therefore is it called the Maidens\u2019 Castle, for they have devoured\nmany maidens. Now, said Galahad, is she here for whom this castle was\nlost? Nay sir, said the priest, she was dead within these three nights\nafter that she was thus enforced; and sithen have they kept her younger\nsister, which endureth great pains with mo other ladies.\nBy this were the knights of the country come, and then he made them do\nhomage and fealty to the king\u2019s daughter, and set them in great ease of\nheart. And in the morn there came one to Galahad and told him how that\nGawaine, Gareth, and Uwaine, had slain the seven brethren. I suppose\nwell, said Sir Galahad, and took his armour and his horse, and\ncommended them unto God.\nCHAPTER XVI. How Sir Gawaine came to the abbey for to follow Galahad,\nand how he was shriven to a hermit.\nNow, saith the tale, after Sir Gawaine departed, he rode many journeys,\nboth toward and froward. And at the last he came to the abbey where Sir\nGalahad had the white shield, and there Sir Gawaine learned the way to\nsewe after Sir Galahad; and so he rode to the abbey where Melias lay\nsick, and there Sir Melias told Sir Gawaine of the marvellous\nadventures that Sir Galahad did. Certes, said Sir Gawaine, I am not\nhappy that I took not the way that he went, for an I may meet with him\nI will not depart from him lightly, for all marvellous adventures Sir\nGalahad enchieveth. Sir, said one of the monks, he will not of your\nfellowship. Why? said Sir Gawaine. Sir, said he, for ye be wicked and\nsinful, and he is full blessed. Right as they thus stood talking there\ncame in riding Sir Gareth. And then they made joy either of other. And\non the morn they heard mass, and so departed. And by the way they met\nwith Sir Uwaine les Avoutres, and there Sir Uwaine told Sir Gawaine how\nhe had met with none adventure sith he departed from the court. Nor we,\nsaid Sir Gawaine. And either promised other of the three knights not to\ndepart while they were in that quest, but if fortune caused it.\nSo they departed and rode by fortune till that they came by the Castle\nof Maidens; and there the seven brethren espied the three knights, and\nsaid: Sithen, we be flemed by one knight from this castle, we shall\ndestroy all the knights of King Arthur\u2019s that we may overcome, for the\nlove of Sir Galahad. And therewith the seven knights set upon the three\nknights, and by fortune Sir Gawaine slew one of the brethren, and each\none of his fellows slew another, and so slew the remnant. And then they\ntook the way under the castle, and there they lost the way that Sir\nGalahad rode, and there everych of them departed from other; and Sir\nGawaine rode till he came to an hermitage, and there he found the good\nman saying his evensong of Our Lady; and there Sir Gawaine asked\nharbour for charity, and the good man granted it him gladly.\nThen the good man asked him what he was. Sir, he said, I am a knight of\nKing Arthur\u2019s that am in the quest of the Sangreal, and my name is Sir\nGawaine. Sir, said the good man, I would wit how it standeth betwixt\nGod and you. Sir, said Sir Gawaine, I will with a good will shew you my\nlife if it please you; and there he told the hermit how a monk of an\nabbey called me wicked knight. He might well say it, said the hermit,\nfor when ye were first made knight ye should have taken you to knightly\ndeeds and virtuous living, and ye have done the contrary, for ye have\nlived mischievously many winters; and Sir Galahad is a maid and sinned\nnever, and that is the cause he shall enchieve where he goeth that ye\nnor none such shall not attain, nor none in your fellowship, for ye\nhave used the most untruest life that ever I heard knight live. For\ncertes had ye not been so wicked as ye are, never had the seven\nbrethren been slain by you and your two fellows. For Sir Galahad\nhimself alone beat them all seven the day to-fore, but his living is\nsuch he shall slay no man lightly. Also I may say you the Castle of\nMaidens betokeneth the good souls that were in prison afore the\nIncarnation of Jesu Christ. And the seven knights betoken the seven\ndeadly sins that reigned that time in the world; and I may liken the\ngood Galahad unto the son of the High Father, that lighted within a\nmaid, and bought all the souls out of thrall, so did Sir Galahad\ndeliver all the maidens out of the woful castle.\nNow, Sir Gawaine, said the good man, thou must do penance for thy sin.\nSir, what penance shall I do? Such as I will give, said the good man.\nNay, said Sir Gawaine, I may do no penance; for we knights adventurous\noft suffer great woe and pain. Well, said the good man, and then he\nheld his peace. And on the morn Sir Gawaine departed from the hermit,\nand betaught him unto God. And by adventure he met with Sir Aglovale\nand Sir Griflet, two knights of the Table Round. And they two rode four\ndays without finding of any adventure, and at the fifth day they\ndeparted. And everych held as fell them by adventure. Here leaveth the\ntale of Sir Gawaine and his fellows, and speak we of Sir Galahad.\nCHAPTER XVII. How Sir Galahad met with Sir Launcelot and Sir Percivale,\nand smote them down, and departed from them.\nSo when Sir Galahad was departed from the Castle of Maidens he rode\ntill he came to a waste forest, and there he met with Sir Launcelot and\nSir Percivale, but they knew him not, for he was new disguised. Right\nso Sir Launcelot, his father, dressed his spear and brake it upon Sir\nGalahad, and Galahad smote him so again that he smote down horse and\nman. And then he drew his sword, and dressed him unto Sir Percivale,\nand smote him so on the helm, that it rove to the coif of steel; and\nhad not the sword swerved Sir Percivale had been slain, and with the\nstroke he fell out of his saddle. This jousts was done to-fore the\nhermitage where a recluse dwelled. And when she saw Sir Galahad ride,\nshe said: God be with thee, best knight of the world. Ah certes, said\nshe, all aloud that Launcelot and Percivale might hear it: An yonder\ntwo knights had known thee as well as I do they would not have\nencountered with thee. Then Sir Galahad heard her say so he was adread\nto be known: therewith he smote his horse with his spurs and rode a\ngreat pace froward them. Then perceived they both that he was Galahad;\nand up they gat on their horses, and rode fast after him, but in a\nwhile he was out of their sight. And then they turned again with heavy\ncheer. Let us spere some tidings, said Percivale, at yonder recluse. Do\nas ye list, said Sir Launcelot.\nWhen Sir Percivale came to the recluse she knew him well enough, and\nSir Launcelot both. But Sir Launcelot rode overthwart and endlong in a\nwild forest, and held no path but as wild adventure led him. And at the\nlast he came to a stony cross which departed two ways in waste land;\nand by the cross was a stone that was of marble, but it was so dark\nthat Sir Launcelot might not wit what it was. Then Sir Launcelot looked\nby him, and saw an old chapel, and there he weened to have found\npeople; and Sir Launcelot tied his horse till a tree, and there he did\noff his shield and hung it upon a tree, and then went to the chapel\ndoor, and found it waste and broken. And within he found a fair altar,\nfull richly arrayed with cloth of clean silk, and there stood a fair\nclean candlestick, which bare six great candles, and the candlestick\nwas of silver. And when Sir Launcelot saw this light he had great will\nfor to enter into the chapel, but he could find no place where he might\nenter; then was he passing heavy and dismayed. Then he returned and\ncame to his horse and did off his saddle and bridle, and let him\npasture, and unlaced his helm, and ungirt his sword, and laid him down\nto sleep upon his shield to-fore the cross.\nCHAPTER XVIII. How Sir Launcelot, half sleeping and half waking, saw a\nsick man borne in a litter, and how he was healed with the Sangreal.\nAnd so he fell asleep; and half waking and sleeping he saw come by him\ntwo palfreys all fair and white, the which bare a litter, therein lying\na sick knight. And when he was nigh the cross he there abode still. All\nthis Sir Launcelot saw and beheld, for he slept not verily; and he\nheard him say: O sweet Lord, when shall this sorrow leave me? and when\nshall the holy vessel come by me, wherethrough I shall be blessed? For\nI have endured thus long, for little trespass. A full great while\ncomplained the knight thus, and always Sir Launcelot heard it. With\nthat Sir Launcelot saw the candlestick with the six tapers come before\nthe cross, and he saw nobody that brought it. Also there came a table\nof silver, and the holy vessel of the Sangreal, which Launcelot had\nseen aforetime in King Pescheour\u2019s house. And therewith the sick knight\nset him up, and held up both his hands, and said: Fair sweet Lord,\nwhich is here within this holy vessel; take heed unto me that I may be\nwhole of this malady. And therewith on his hands and on his knees he\nwent so nigh that he touched the holy vessel and kissed it, and anon he\nwas whole; and then he said: Lord God, I thank thee, for I am healed of\nthis sickness.\nSo when the holy vessel had been there a great while it went unto the\nchapel with the chandelier and the light, so that Launcelot wist not\nwhere it was become; for he was overtaken with sin that he had no power\nto rise again the holy vessel; wherefore after that many men said of\nhim shame, but he took repentance after that. Then the sick knight\ndressed him up and kissed the cross; anon his squire brought him his\narms, and asked his lord how he did. Certes, said he, I thank God right\nwell, through the holy vessel I am healed. But I have marvel of this\nsleeping knight that had no power to awake when this holy vessel was\nbrought hither. I dare right well say, said the squire, that he\ndwelleth in some deadly sin whereof he was never confessed. By my\nfaith, said the knight, whatsomever he be he is unhappy, for as I deem\nhe is of the fellowship of the Round Table, the which is entered into\nthe quest of the Sangreal. Sir, said the squire, here I have brought\nyou all your arms save your helm and your sword, and therefore by mine\nassent now may ye take this knight\u2019s helm and his sword: and so he did.\nAnd when he was clean armed he took Sir Launcelot\u2019s horse, for he was\nbetter than his; and so departed they from the cross.\nCHAPTER XIX. How a voice spake to Sir Launcelot, and how he found his\nhorse and his helm borne away, and after went afoot.\nThen anon Sir Launcelot waked, and set him up, and bethought him what\nhe had seen there, and whether it were dreams or not. Right so heard he\na voice that said: Sir Launcelot, more harder than is the stone, and\nmore bitter than is the wood, and more naked and barer than is the leaf\nof the fig tree; therefore go thou from hence, and withdraw thee from\nthis holy place. And when Sir Launcelot heard this he was passing heavy\nand wist not what to do, and so departed sore weeping, and cursed the\ntime that he was born. For then he deemed never to have had worship\nmore. For those words went to his heart, till that he knew wherefore he\nwas called so. Then Sir Launcelot went to the cross and found his helm,\nhis sword, and his horse taken away. And then he called himself a very\nwretch, and most unhappy of all knights; and there he said: My sin and\nmy wickedness have brought me unto great dishonour. For when I sought\nworldly adventures for worldly desires, I ever enchieved them and had\nthe better in every place, and never was I discomfit in no quarrel,\nwere it right or wrong. And now I take upon me the adventures of holy\nthings, and now I see and understand that mine old sin hindereth me and\nshameth me, so that I had no power to stir nor speak when the holy\nblood appeared afore me. So thus he sorrowed till it was day, and heard\nthe fowls sing: then somewhat he was comforted. But when Sir Launcelot\nmissed his horse and his harness then he wist well God was displeased\nwith him.\nThen he departed from the cross on foot into a forest; and so by prime\nhe came to an high hill, and found an hermitage and a hermit therein\nwhich was going unto mass. And then Launcelot kneeled down and cried on\nOur Lord mercy for his wicked works. So when mass was done Launcelot\ncalled him, and prayed him for charity for to hear his life. With a\ngood will, said the good man. Sir, said he, be ye of King Arthur\u2019s\ncourt and of the fellowship of the Round Table? Yea forsooth, and my\nname is Sir Launcelot du Lake that hath been right well said of, and\nnow my good fortune is changed, for I am the most wretch of the world.\nThe hermit beheld him and had marvel how he was so abashed. Sir, said\nthe hermit, ye ought to thank God more than any knight living, for He\nhath caused you to have more worldly worship than any knight that now\nliveth. And for your presumption to take upon you in deadly sin for to\nbe in His presence, where His flesh and His blood was, that caused you\nye might not see it with worldly eyes; for He will not appear where\nsuch sinners be, but if it be unto their great hurt and unto their\ngreat shame; and there is no knight living now that ought to give God\nso great thank as ye, for He hath given you beauty, seemliness, and\ngreat strength above all other knights; and therefore ye are the more\nbeholding unto God than any other man, to love Him and dread Him, for\nyour strength and manhood will little avail you an God be against you.\nCHAPTER XX. How Sir Launcelot was shriven, and what sorrow he made and\nof the good ensamples which were shewed him.\nThen Sir Launcelot wept with heavy cheer, and said: Now I know well ye\nsay me sooth. Sir, said the good man, hide none old sin from me. Truly,\nsaid Sir Launcelot, that were me full loath to discover. For this\nfourteen year I never discovered one thing that I have used, and that\nmay I now wite my shame and my disadventure. And then he told there\nthat good man all his life. And how he had loved a queen unmeasurably\nand out of measure long. And all my great deeds of arms that I have\ndone, I did for the most part for the queen\u2019s sake, and for her sake\nwould I do battle were it right or wrong, and never did I battle all\nonly for God\u2019s sake, but for to win worship and to cause me to be the\nbetter beloved and little or nought I thanked God of it. Then Sir\nLauncelot said: I pray you counsel me. I will counsel you, said the\nhermit, if ye will ensure me that ye will never come in that queen\u2019s\nfellowship as much as ye may forbear. And then Sir Launcelot promised\nhim he nold, by the faith of his body. Look that your heart and your\nmouth accord, said the good man, and I shall ensure you ye shall have\nmore worship than ever ye had.\nHoly father, said Sir Launcelot, I marvel of the voice that said to me\nmarvellous words, as ye have heard to-forehand. Have ye no marvel, said\nthe good man thereof, for it seemeth well God loveth you; for men may\nunderstand a stone is hard of kind, and namely one more than another;\nand that is to understand by thee, Sir Launcelot, for thou wilt not\nleave thy sin for no goodness that God hath sent thee; therefore thou\nart more than any stone, and never wouldst thou be made nesh nor by\nwater nor by fire, and that is the heat of the Holy Ghost may not enter\nin thee. Now take heed, in all the world men shall not find one knight\nto whom Our Lord hath given so much of grace as He hath given you, for\nHe hath given you fairness with seemliness, He hath given thee wit,\ndiscretion to know good from evil, He hath given thee prowess and\nhardiness, and given thee to work so largely that thou hast had at all\ndays the better wheresomever thou came; and now Our Lord will suffer\nthee no longer, but that thou shalt know Him whether thou wilt or nylt.\nAnd why the voice called thee bitterer than wood, for where overmuch\nsin dwelleth, there may be but little sweetness, wherefore thou art\nlikened to an old rotten tree.\nNow have I shewed thee why thou art harder than the stone and bitterer\nthan the tree. Now shall I shew thee why thou art more naked and barer\nthan the fig tree. It befell that Our Lord on Palm Sunday preached in\nJerusalem, and there He found in the people that all hardness was\nharboured in them, and there He found in all the town not one that\nwould harbour him. And then He went without the town, and found in\nmidst of the way a fig tree, the which was right fair and well\ngarnished of leaves, but fruit had it none. Then Our Lord cursed the\ntree that bare no fruit; that betokeneth the fig tree unto Jerusalem,\nthat had leaves and no fruit. So thou, Sir Launcelot, when the Holy\nGrail was brought afore thee, He found in thee no fruit, nor good\nthought nor good will, and defouled with lechery. Certes, said Sir\nLauncelot, all that you have said is true, and from henceforward I cast\nme, by the grace of God, never to be so wicked as I have been, but as\nto follow knighthood and to do feats of arms.\nThen the good man enjoined Sir Launcelot such penance as he might do\nand to sewe knighthood, and so assoiled him, and prayed Sir Launcelot\nto abide with him all that day. I will well, said Sir Launcelot, for I\nhave neither helm, nor horse, nor sword. As for that, said the good\nman, I shall help you or to-morn at even of an horse, and all that\nlonged unto you. And then Sir Launcelot repented him greatly.\n_Here endeth off the history of Sir Launcelot. And here followeth of\nSir Percivale de Galis, which is the fourteenth book._\nBOOK XIV.\nCHAPTER I. How Sir Percivale came to a recluse and asked counsel, and\nhow she told him that she was his aunt.\nNow saith the tale, that when Sir Launcelot was ridden after Sir\nGalahad, the which had all these adventures above said, Sir Percivale\nturned again unto the recluse, where he deemed to have tidings of that\nknight that Launcelot followed. And so he kneeled at her window, and\nthe recluse opened it and asked Sir Percivale what he would. Madam, he\nsaid, I am a knight of King Arthur\u2019s court, and my name is Sir\nPercivale de Galis. When the recluse heard his name she had great joy\nof him, for mickle she had loved him to-fore any other knight, for she\nought to do so, for she was his aunt. And then she commanded the gates\nto be opened, and there he had all the cheer that she might make him,\nand all that was in her power was at his commandment.\nSo on the morn Sir Percivale went to the recluse and asked her if she\nknew that knight with the white shield. Sir, said she, why would ye\nwit? Truly, madam, said Sir Percivale, I shall never be well at ease\ntill that I know of that knight\u2019s fellowship, and that I may fight with\nhim, for I may not leave him so lightly, for I have the shame yet. Ah,\nPercivale, said she, would ye fight with him? I see well ye have great\nwill to be slain as your father was, through outrageousness. Madam,\nsaid Sir Percivale, it seemeth by your words that ye know me. Yea, said\nshe, I well ought to know you, for I am your aunt, although I be in a\npriory place. For some called me sometime the Queen of the Waste Lands,\nand I was called the queen of most riches in the world; and it pleased\nme never my riches so much as doth my poverty. Then Sir Percivale wept\nfor very pity when that he knew it was his aunt. Ah, fair nephew, said\nshe, when heard ye tidings of your mother? Truly, said he, I heard none\nof her, but I dream of her much in my sleep; and therefore I wot not\nwhether she be dead or alive. Certes, fair nephew, said she, your\nmother is dead, for after your departing from her she took such a\nsorrow that anon, after she was confessed, she died. Now, God have\nmercy on her soul, said Sir Percivale, it sore forthinketh me; but all\nwe must change the life. Now, fair aunt, tell me what is the knight? I\ndeem it be he that bare the red arms on Whitsunday. Wit you well, said\nshe, that this is he, for otherwise ought he not to do, but to go in\nred arms; and that same knight hath no peer, for he worketh all by\nmiracle, and he shall never be overcome of none earthly man\u2019s hand.\nCHAPTER II. How Merlin likened the Round Table to the world, and how\nthe knights that should achieve the Sangreal should be known.\nAlso Merlin made the Round Table in tokening of roundness of the world,\nfor by the Round Table is the world signified by right, for all the\nworld, Christian and heathen, repair unto the Round Table; and when\nthey are chosen to be of the fellowship of the Round Table they think\nthem more blessed and more in worship than if they had gotten half the\nworld; and ye have seen that they have lost their fathers and their\nmothers, and all their kin, and their wives and their children, for to\nbe of your fellowship. It is well seen by you; for since ye have\ndeparted from your mother ye would never see her, ye found such\nfellowship at the Round Table. When Merlin had ordained the Round Table\nhe said, by them which should be fellows of the Round Table the truth\nof the Sangreal should be well known. And men asked him how men might\nknow them that should best do and to enchieve the Sangreal? Then he\nsaid there should be three white bulls that should enchieve it, and the\ntwo should be maidens, and the third should be chaste. And that one of\nthe three should pass his father as much as the lion passeth the\nleopard, both of strength and hardiness.\nThey that heard Merlin say so said thus unto Merlin: Sithen there shall\nbe such a knight, thou shouldest ordain by thy crafts a siege, that no\nman should sit in it but he all only that shall pass all other knights.\nThen Merlin answered that he would do so. And then he made the Siege\nPerilous, in the which Galahad sat in at his meat on Whitsunday last\npast. Now, madam, said Sir Percivale, so much have I heard of you that\nby my good will I will never have ado with Sir Galahad but by way of\nkindness; and for God\u2019s love, fair aunt, can ye teach me some way where\nI may find him? for much would I love the fellowship of him. Fair\nnephew, said she, ye must ride unto a castle the which is called\nGoothe, where he hath a cousin-germain, and there may ye be lodged this\nnight. And as he teacheth you, seweth after as fast as ye can; and if\nhe can tell you no tidings of him, ride straight unto the Castle of\nCarbonek, where the maimed king is there lying, for there shall ye hear\ntrue tidings of him.\nCHAPTER III. How Sir Percivale came into a monastery, where he found\nKing Evelake, which was an old man.\nThen departed Sir Percivale from his aunt, either making great sorrow.\nAnd so he rode till evensong time. And then he heard a clock smite; and\nthen he was ware of an house closed well with walls and deep ditches,\nand there he knocked at the gate and was let in, and he alighted and\nwas led unto a chamber, and soon he was unarmed. And there he had right\ngood cheer all that night; and on the morn he heard his mass, and in\nthe monastery he found a priest ready at the altar. And on the right\nside he saw a pew closed with iron, and behind the altar he saw a rich\nbed and a fair, as of cloth of silk and gold.\nThen Sir Percivale espied that therein was a man or a woman, for the\nvisage was covered; then he left off his looking and heard his service.\nAnd when it came to the sacring, he that lay within that parclos\ndressed him up, and uncovered his head; and then him beseemed a passing\nold man, and he had a crown of gold upon his head, and his shoulders\nwere naked and unhilled unto his navel. And then Sir Percivale espied\nhis body was full of great wounds, both on the shoulders, arms, and\nvisage. And ever he held up his hands against Our Lord\u2019s body, and\ncried: Fair, sweet Father, Jesu Christ, forget not me. And so he lay\ndown, but always he was in his prayers and orisons; and him seemed to\nbe of the age of three hundred winter. And when the mass was done the\npriest took Our Lord\u2019s body and bare it to the sick king. And when he\nhad used it he did off his crown, and commanded the crown to be set on\nthe altar.\nThen Sir Percivale asked one of the brethren what he was. Sir, said the\ngood man, ye have heard much of Joseph of Aramathie, how he was sent by\nJesu Christ into this land for to teach and preach the holy Christian\nfaith; and therefore he suffered many persecutions the which the\nenemies of Christ did unto him, and in the city of Sarras he converted\na king whose name was Evelake. And so this king came with Joseph into\nthis land, and ever he was busy to be thereas the Sangreal was; and on\na time he nighed it so nigh that Our Lord was displeased with him, but\never he followed it more and more, till God struck him almost blind.\nThen this king cried mercy, and said: Fair Lord, let me never die till\nthe good knight of my blood of the ninth degree be come, that I may see\nhim openly that he shall enchieve the Sangreal, that I may kiss him.\nCHAPTER IV. How Sir Percivale saw many men of arms bearing a dead\nknight, and how he fought against them.\nWhen the king thus had made his prayers he heard a voice that said:\nHeard be thy prayers, for thou shalt not die till he have kissed thee.\nAnd when that knight shall come the clearness of your eyes shall come\nagain, and thou shalt see openly, and thy wounds shall be healed, and\nerst shall they never close. And this befell of King Evelake, and this\nsame king hath lived this three hundred winters this holy life, and men\nsay the knight is in the court that shall heal him. Sir, said the good\nman, I pray you tell me what knight that ye be, and if ye be of King\nArthur\u2019s court and of the Table Round. Yea forsooth, said he, and my\nname is Sir Percivale de Galis. And when the good man understood his\nname he made great joy of him.\nAnd then Sir Percivale departed and rode till the hour of noon. And he\nmet in a valley about a twenty men of arms, which bare in a bier a\nknight deadly slain. And when they saw Sir Percivale they asked him of\nwhence he was. And he answered: Of the court of King Arthur. Then they\ncried all at once: Slay him. Then Sir Percivale smote the first to the\nearth and his horse upon him. And then seven of the knights smote upon\nhis shield all at once, and the remnant slew his horse so that he fell\nto the earth. So had they slain him or taken him had not the good\nknight, Sir Galahad, with the red arms come there by adventure into\nthose parts. And when he saw all those knights upon one knight he\ncried: Save me that knight\u2019s life. And then he dressed him toward the\ntwenty men of arms as fast as his horse might drive, with his spear in\nthe rest, and smote the foremost horse and man to the earth. And when\nhis spear was broken he set his hand to his sword, and smote on the\nright hand and on the left hand that it was marvel to see, and at every\nstroke he smote one down or put him to a rebuke, so that they would\nfight no more but fled to a thick forest, and Sir Galahad followed\nthem.\nAnd when Sir Percivale saw him chase them so, he made great sorrow that\nhis horse was away. And then he wist well it was Sir Galahad. And then\nhe cried aloud: Ah fair knight, abide and suffer me to do thankings\nunto thee, for much have ye done for me. But ever Sir Galahad rode so\nfast that at the last he passed out of his sight. And as fast as Sir\nPercivale might he went after him on foot, crying. And then he met with\na yeoman riding upon an hackney, the which led in his hand a great\nsteed blacker than any bear. Ah, fair friend, said Sir Percivale, as\never I may do for you, and to be your true knight in the first place ye\nwill require me, that ye will lend me that black steed, that I might\novertake a knight the which rideth afore me. Sir knight, said the\nyeoman, I pray you hold me excused of that, for that I may not do. For\nwit ye well, the horse is such a man\u2019s horse, that an I lent it you or\nany man, that he would slay me. Alas, said Sir Percivale, I had never\nso great sorrow as I have had for losing of yonder knight. Sir, said\nthe yeoman, I am right heavy for you, for a good horse would beseem you\nwell; but I dare not deliver you this horse but if ye would take him\nfrom me. That will I not do, said Sir Percivale. And so they departed;\nand Sir Percivale set him down under a tree, and made sorrow out of\nmeasure. And as he was there, there came a knight riding on the horse\nthat the yeoman led, and he was clean armed.\nCHAPTER V. How a yeoman desired him to get again an horse, and how Sir\nPercivale\u2019s hackney was slain, and how he gat an horse.\nAnd anon the yeoman came pricking after as fast as ever he might, and\nasked Sir Percivale if he saw any knight riding on his black steed.\nYea, sir, forsooth, said he; why, sir, ask ye me that? Ah, sir, that\nsteed he hath benome me with strength; wherefore my lord will slay me\nin what place he findeth me. Well, said Sir Percivale, what wouldst\nthou that I did? Thou seest well that I am on foot, but an I had a good\nhorse I should bring him soon again. Sir, said the yeoman, take mine\nhackney and do the best ye can, and I shall sewe you on foot to wit how\nthat ye shall speed. Then Sir Percivale alighted upon that hackney, and\nrode as fast as he might, and at the last he saw that knight. And then\nhe cried: Knight, turn again; and he turned and set his spear against\nSir Percivale, and he smote the hackney in the midst of the breast that\nhe fell down dead to the earth, and there he had a great fall, and the\nother rode his way. And then Sir Percivale was wood wroth, and cried:\nAbide, wicked knight; coward and false-hearted knight, turn again and\nfight with me on foot. But he answered not, but passed on his way.\nWhen Sir Percivale saw he would not turn he cast away his helm and\nsword, and said: Now am I a very wretch, cursed and most unhappy above\nall other knights. So in this sorrow he abode all that day till it was\nnight; and then he was faint, and laid him down and slept till it was\nmidnight; and then he awaked and saw afore him a woman which said unto\nhim right fiercely: Sir Percivale, what dost thou here? He answered, I\ndo neither good nor great ill. If thou wilt ensure me, said she, that\nthou wilt fulfil my will when I summon thee, I shall lend thee mine own\nhorse which shall bear thee whither thou wilt. Sir Percivale was glad\nof her proffer, and ensured her to fulfil all her desire. Then abide me\nhere, and I shall go and fetch you an horse. And so she came soon again\nand brought an horse with her that was inly black. When Percivale\nbeheld that horse he marvelled that it was so great and so well\napparelled; and not for then he was so hardy, and he leapt upon him,\nand took none heed of himself. And so anon as he was upon him he thrust\nto him with his spurs, and so he rode by a forest, and the moon shone\nclear. And within an hour and less he bare him four days\u2019 journey\nthence, until he came to a rough water the which roared, and his horse\nwould have borne him into it.\nCHAPTER VI. Of the great danger that Sir Percivale was in by his horse,\nand how he saw a serpent and a lion fight.\nAnd when Sir Percivale came nigh the brim, and saw the water so\nboistous, he doubted to overpass it. And then he made a sign of the\ncross in his forehead. When the fiend felt him so charged he shook off\nSir Percivale, and he went into the water crying and roaring, making\ngreat sorrow, and it seemed unto him that the water brent. Then Sir\nPercivale perceived it was a fiend, the which would have brought him\nunto his perdition. Then he commended himself unto God, and prayed Our\nLord to keep him from all such temptations; and so he prayed all that\nnight till on the morn that it was day; then he saw that he was in a\nwild mountain the which was closed with the sea nigh all about, that he\nmight see no land about him which might relieve him, but wild beasts.\nAnd then he went into a valley, and there he saw a young serpent bring\na young lion by the neck, and so he came by Sir Percivale. With that\ncame a great lion crying and roaring after the serpent. And as fast as\nSir Percivale saw this he marvelled, and hied him thither, but anon the\nlion had overtaken the serpent and began battle with him. And then Sir\nPercivale thought to help the lion, for he was the more natural beast\nof the two; and therewith he drew his sword, and set his shield afore\nhim, and there he gave the serpent such a buffet that he had a deadly\nwound. When the lion saw that, he made no resemblaunt to fight with\nhim, but made him all the cheer that a beast might make a man. Then\nPercivale perceived that, and cast down his shield which was broken;\nand then he did off his helm for to gather wind, for he was greatly\nenchafed with the serpent: and the lion went alway about him fawning as\na spaniel. And then he stroked him on the neck and on the shoulders.\nAnd then he thanked God of the fellowship of that beast. And about noon\nthe lion took his little whelp and trussed him and bare him there he\ncame from.\nThen was Sir Percivale alone. And as the tale telleth, he was one of\nthe men of the world at that time which most believed in Our Lord Jesu\nChrist, for in those days there were but few folks that believed in God\nperfectly. For in those days the son spared not the father no more than\na stranger. And so Sir Percivale comforted himself in our Lord Jesu,\nand besought God no temptation should bring him out of God\u2019s service,\nbut to endure as his true champion. Thus when Sir Percivale had prayed\nhe saw the lion come toward him, and then he couched down at his feet.\nAnd so all that night the lion and he slept together; and when Sir\nPercivale slept he dreamed a marvellous dream, that there two ladies\nmet with him, and that one sat upon a lion, and that other sat upon a\nserpent, and that one of them was young, and the other was old; and the\nyoungest him thought said: Sir Percivale, my lord saluteth thee, and\nsendeth thee word that thou array thee and make thee ready, for to-morn\nthou must fight with the strongest champion of the world. And if thou\nbe overcome thou shall not be quit for losing of any of thy members,\nbut thou shalt be shamed for ever to the world\u2019s end. And then he asked\nher what was her lord. And she said the greatest lord of all the world:\nand so she departed suddenly that he wist not where.\nCHAPTER VII. Of the vision that Sir Percivale saw, and how his vision\nwas expounded, and of his lion.\nThen came forth the other lady that rode upon the serpent, and she\nsaid: Sir Percivale, I complain me of you that ye have done unto me,\nand have not offended unto you. Certes, madam, he said, unto you nor no\nlady I never offended. Yes, said she, I shall tell you why. I have\nnourished in this place a great while a serpent, which served me a\ngreat while, and yesterday ye slew him as he gat his prey. Say me for\nwhat cause ye slew him, for the lion was not yours. Madam, said Sir\nPercivale, I know well the lion was not mine, but I did it for the lion\nis of more gentler nature than the serpent, and therefore I slew him;\nmeseemeth I did not amiss against you. Madam, said he, what would ye\nthat I did? I would, said she, for the amends of my beast that ye\nbecome my man. And then he answered: That will I not grant you. No,\nsaid she, truly ye were never but my servant sin ye received the homage\nof Our Lord Jesu Christ. Therefore, I ensure you in what place I may\nfind you without keeping I shall take you, as he that sometime was my\nman. And so she departed from Sir Percivale and left him sleeping, the\nwhich was sore travailed of his advision. And on the morn he arose and\nblessed him, and he was passing feeble.\nThen was Sir Percivale ware in the sea, and saw a ship come sailing\ntoward him; and Sir Percivale went unto the ship and found it covered\nwithin and without with white samite. And at the board stood an old man\nclothed in a surplice, in likeness of a priest. Sir, said Sir\nPercivale, ye be welcome. God keep you, said the good man. Sir, said\nthe old man, of whence be ye? Sir, said Sir Percivale, I am of King\nArthur\u2019s court, and a knight of the Table Round, the which am in the\nquest of the Sangreal; and here am I in great duresse, and never like\nto escape out of this wilderness. Doubt not, said the good man, an ye\nbe so true a knight as the order of chivalry requireth, and of heart as\nye ought to be, ye should not doubt that none enemy should slay you.\nWhat are ye? said Sir Percivale. Sir, said the old man, I am of a\nstrange country, and hither I come to comfort you.\nSir, said Sir Percivale, what signifieth my dream that I dreamed this\nnight? And there he told him altogether: She which rode upon the lion\nbetokeneth the new law of holy church, that is to understand, faith,\ngood hope, belief, and baptism. For she seemed younger than the other\nit is great reason, for she was born in the resurrection and the\npassion of Our Lord Jesu Christ. And for great love she came to thee to\nwarn thee of thy great battle that shall befall thee. With whom, said\nSir Percivale, shall I fight? With the most champion of the world, said\nthe old man; for as the lady said, but if thou quit thee well thou\nshalt not be quit by losing of one member, but thou shalt be shamed to\nthe world\u2019s end. And she that rode on the serpent signifieth the old\nlaw, and that serpent betokeneth a fiend. And why she blamed thee that\nthou slewest her servant, it betokeneth nothing; the serpent that thou\nslewest betokeneth the devil that thou rodest upon to the rock. And\nwhen thou madest a sign of the cross, there thou slewest him, and put\naway his power. And when she asked thee amends and to become her man,\nand thou saidst thou wouldst not, that was to make thee to believe on\nher and leave thy baptism. So he commanded Sir Percivale to depart, and\nso he leapt over the board and the ship, and all went away he wist not\nwhither. Then he went up unto the rock and found the lion which always\nkept him fellowship, and he stroked him upon the back and had great joy\nof him.\nCHAPTER VIII. How Sir Percivale saw a ship coming to him-ward, and how\nthe lady of the ship told him of her disheritance.\nBy that Sir Percivale had abiden there till mid-day he saw a ship came\nrowing in the sea, as all the wind of the world had driven it. And so\nit drove under that rock. And when Sir Percivale saw this he hied him\nthither, and found the ship covered with silk more blacker than any\nbear, and therein was a gentlewoman of great beauty, and she was\nclothed richly that none might be better. And when she saw Sir\nPercivale she said: Who brought you in this wilderness where ye be\nnever like to pass hence, for ye shall die here for hunger and\nmischief? Damosel, said Sir Percivale, I serve the best man of the\nworld, and in his service he will not suffer me to die, for who that\nknocketh shall enter, and who that asketh shall have, and who that\nseeketh him he hideth him not. But then she said: Sir Percivale, wot ye\nwhat I am? Yea, said he. Now who taught you my name? said she. Now,\nsaid Sir Percivale, I know you better than ye ween. And I came out of\nthe waste forest where I found the Red Knight with the white shield,\nsaid the damosel. Ah, damosel, said he, with that knight would I meet\npassing fain. Sir knight, said she, an ye will ensure me by the faith\nthat ye owe unto knighthood that ye shall do my will what time I summon\nyou, and I shall bring you unto that knight. Yea, said he, I shall\npromise you to fulfil your desire. Well, said she, now shall I tell\nyou. I saw him in the forest chasing two knights unto a water, the\nwhich is called Mortaise; and they drove him into the water for dread\nof death, and the two knights passed over, and the Red Knight passed\nafter, and there his horse was drenched, and he, through great\nstrength, escaped unto the land: thus she told him, and Sir Percivale\nwas passing glad thereof.\nThen she asked him if he had ate any meat late. Nay, madam, truly I ate\nno meat nigh this three days, but late here I spake with a good man\nthat fed me with his good words and holy, and refreshed me greatly. Ah,\nsir knight, said she, that same man is an enchanter and a multiplier of\nwords. For an ye believe him ye shall plainly be shamed, and die in\nthis rock for pure hunger, and be eaten with wild beasts; and ye be a\nyoung man and a goodly knight, and I shall help you an ye will. What\nare ye, said Sir Percivale, that proffered me thus great kindness? I\nam, said she, a gentlewoman that am disherited, which was sometime the\nrichest woman of the world. Damosel, said Sir Percivale, who hath\ndisherited you? for I have great pity of you. Sir, said she, I dwelled\nwith the greatest man of the world, and he made me so fair and clear\nthat there was none like me; and of that great beauty I had a little\npride more than I ought to have had. Also I said a word that pleased\nhim not. And then he would not suffer me to be any longer in his\ncompany, and so drove me from mine heritage, and so disherited me, and\nhe had never pity of me nor of none of my council, nor of my court. And\nsithen, sir knight, it hath befallen me so, and through me and mine I\nhave benome him many of his men, and made them to become my men. For\nthey ask never nothing of me but I give it them, that and much more.\nThus I and all my servants were against him night and day. Therefore I\nknow now no good knight, nor no good man, but I get them on my side an\nI may. And for that I know that thou art a good knight, I beseech you\nto help me; and for ye be a fellow of the Round Table, wherefore ye\nought not to fail no gentlewoman which is disherited, an she besought\nyou of help.\nCHAPTER IX. How Sir Percivale promised her help, and how he required\nher of love, and how he was saved from the fiend.\nThen Sir Percivale promised her all the help that he might; and then\nshe thanked him. And at that time the weather was hot. Then she called\nunto her a gentlewoman and bade her bring forth a pavilion; and so she\ndid, and pight it upon the gravel. Sir, said she, now may ye rest you\nin this heat of the day. Then he thanked her, and she put off his helm\nand his shield, and there he slept a great while. And then he awoke and\nasked her if she had any meat, and she said: Yea, also ye shall have\nenough. And so there was set enough upon the table, and thereon so much\nthat he had marvel, for there was all manner of meats that he could\nthink on. Also he drank there the strongest wine that ever he drank,\nhim thought, and therewith he was a little chafed more than he ought to\nbe; with that he beheld the gentlewoman, and him thought she was the\nfairest creature that ever he saw. And then Sir Percivale proffered her\nlove, and prayed her that she would be his. Then she refused him, in a\nmanner, when he required her, for the cause he should be the more\nardent on her, and ever he ceased not to pray her of love. And when she\nsaw him well enchafed, then she said: Sir Percivale, wit you well I\nshall not fulfil your will but if ye swear from henceforth ye shall be\nmy true servant, and to do nothing but that I shall command you. Will\nye ensure me this as ye be a true knight? Yea, said he, fair lady, by\nthe faith of my body. Well, said she, now shall ye do with me whatso it\nplease you; and now wit ye well ye are the knight in the world that I\nhave most desire to.\nAnd then two squires were commanded to make a bed in midst of the\npavilion. And anon she was unclothed and laid therein. And then Sir\nPercivale laid him down by her naked; and by adventure and grace he saw\nhis sword lie on the ground naked, in whose pommel was a red cross and\nthe sign of the crucifix therein, and bethought him on his knighthood\nand his promise made to-forehand unto the good man; then he made a sign\nof the cross in his forehead, and therewith the pavilion turned\nup-so-down, and then it changed unto a smoke, and a black cloud, and\nthen he was adread and cried aloud:\nCHAPTER X. How Sir Percivale for penance rove himself through the\nthigh; and how she was known for the devil.\nFair sweet Father, Jesu Christ, ne let me not be shamed, the which was\nnigh lost had not thy good grace been. And then he looked into a ship,\nand saw her enter therein, which said: Sir Percivale, ye have betrayed\nme. And so she went with the wind roaring and yelling, that it seemed\nall the water brent after her. Then Sir Percivale made great sorrow,\nand drew his sword unto him, saying: Sithen my flesh will be my master\nI shall punish it; and therewith he rove himself through the thigh that\nthe blood stert about him, and said: O good Lord, take this in\nrecompensation of that I have done against thee, my Lord. So then he\nclothed him and armed him, and called himself a wretch, saying: How\nnigh was I lost, and to have lost that I should never have gotten\nagain, that was my virginity, for that may never be recovered after it\nis once lost. And then he stopped his bleeding wound with a piece of\nhis shirt.\nThus as he made his moan he saw the same ship come from Orient that the\ngood man was in the day afore, and the noble knight was ashamed with\nhimself, and therewith he fell in a swoon. And when he awoke he went\nunto him weakly, and there he saluted this good man. And then he asked\nSir Percivale: How hast thou done sith I departed? Sir, said he, here\nwas a gentlewoman and led me into deadly sin. And there he told him\naltogether. Knew ye not the maid? said the good man. Sir, said he, nay,\nbut well I wot the fiend sent her hither to shame me. O good knight,\nsaid he, thou art a fool, for that gentlewoman was the master fiend of\nhell, the which hath power above all devils, and that was the old lady\nthat thou sawest in thine advision riding on the serpent. Then he told\nSir Percivale how our Lord Jesu Christ beat him out of heaven for his\nsin, the which was the most brightest angel of heaven, and therefore he\nlost his heritage. And that was the champion that thou foughtest\nwithal, the which had overcome thee had not the grace of God been. Now\nbeware Sir Percivale, and take this for an ensample. And then the good\nman vanished away. Then Sir Percivale took his arms, and entered into\nthe ship, and so departed from thence.\n_Here endeth the fourteenth book, which is of Sir Percivale. And here\nfolloweth of Sir Launcelot, which is the fifteenth book._\nBOOK XV.\nCHAPTER I. How Sir Launcelot came to a chapel, where he found dead, in\na white shirt, a man of religion, of an hundred winter old.\nWhen the hermit had kept Sir Launcelot three days, the hermit gat him\nan horse, an helm, and a sword. And then he departed about the hour of\nnoon. And then he saw a little house. And when he came near he saw a\nchapel, and there beside he saw an old man that was clothed all in\nwhite full richly; and then Sir Launcelot said: God save you. God keep\nyou, said the good man, and make you a good knight. Then Sir Launcelot\nalighted and entered into the chapel, and there he saw an old man dead,\nin a white shirt of passing fine cloth.\nSir, said the good man, this man that is dead ought not to be in such\nclothing as ye see him in, for in that he brake the oath of his order,\nfor he hath been more than an hundred winter a man of a religion. And\nthen the good man and Sir Launcelot went into the chapel; and the good\nman took a stole about his neck, and a book, and then he conjured on\nthat book; and with that they saw in an hideous figure and horrible,\nthat there was no man so hard-hearted nor so hard but he should have\nbeen afeard. Then said the fiend: Thou hast travailed me greatly; now\ntell me what thou wilt with me. I will, said the good man, that thou\ntell me how my fellow became dead, and whether he be saved or damned.\nThen he said with an horrible voice: He is not lost but saved. How may\nthat be? said the good man; it seemed to me that he lived not well, for\nhe brake his order for to wear a shirt where he ought to wear none, and\nwho that trespasseth against our order doth not well. Not so, said the\nfiend, this man that lieth here dead was come of a great lineage. And\nthere was a lord that hight the Earl de Vale, that held great war\nagainst this man\u2019s nephew, the which hight Aguarus. And so this Aguarus\nsaw the earl was bigger than he. Then he went for to take counsel of\nhis uncle, the which lieth here dead as ye may see. And then he asked\nleave, and went out of his hermitage for to maintain his nephew against\nthe mighty earl; and so it happed that this man that lieth here dead\ndid so much by his wisdom and hardiness that the earl was taken, and\nthree of his lords, by force of this dead man.\nCHAPTER II. Of a dead man, how men would have hewn him, and it would\nnot be, and how Sir Launcelot took the hair of the dead man.\nThen was there peace betwixt the earl and this Aguarus, and great\nsurety that the earl should never war against him. Then this dead man\nthat here lieth came to this hermitage again; and then the earl made\ntwo of his nephews for to be avenged upon this man. So they came on a\nday, and found this dead man at the sacring of his mass, and they abode\nhim till he had said mass. And then they set upon him and drew out\nswords to have slain him; but there would no sword bite on him more\nthan upon a gad of steel, for the high Lord which he served He him\npreserved. Then made they a great fire, and did off all his clothes,\nand the hair off his back. And then this dead man hermit said unto\nthem: Ween you to burn me? It shall not lie in your power nor to perish\nme as much as a thread, an there were any on my body. No? said one of\nthem, it shall be assayed. And then they despoiled him, and put upon\nhim this shirt, and cast him in a fire, and there he lay all that night\ntill it was day in that fire, and was not dead, and so in the morn I\ncame and found him dead; but I found neither thread nor skin tamed, and\nso took him out of the fire with great fear, and laid him here as ye\nmay see. And now may ye suffer me to go my way, for I have said you the\nsooth. And then he departed with a great tempest.\nThen was the good man and Sir Launcelot more gladder than they were\nto-fore. And then Sir Launcelot dwelled with that good man that night.\nSir, said the good man, be ye not Sir Launcelot du Lake? Yea, sir, said\nhe. What seek ye in this country? Sir, said Sir Launcelot, I go to seek\nthe adventures of the Sangreal. Well, said he, seek it ye may well, but\nthough it were here ye shall have no power to see it no more than a\nblind man should see a bright sword, and that is long on your sin, and\nelse ye were more abler than any man living. And then Sir Launcelot\nbegan to weep. Then said the good man: Were ye confessed sith ye\nentered into the quest of the Sangreal? Yea, sir, said Sir Launcelot.\nThen upon the morn when the good man had sung his mass, then they\nburied the dead man. Then Sir Launcelot said: Father, what shall I do?\nNow, said the good man, I require you take this hair that was this holy\nman\u2019s and put it next thy skin, and it shall prevail thee greatly. Sir,\nand I will do it, said Sir Launcelot. Also I charge you that ye eat no\nflesh as long as ye be in the quest of the Sangreal, nor ye shall drink\nno wine, and that ye hear mass daily an ye may do it. So he took the\nhair and put it upon him, and so departed at evensong-time.\nAnd so rode he into a forest, and there he met with a gentlewoman\nriding upon a white palfrey, and then she asked him: Sir knight,\nwhither ride ye? Certes, damosel, said Launcelot, I wot not whither I\nride but as fortune leadeth me. Ah, Sir Launcelot, said she, I wot what\nadventure ye seek, for ye were afore time nearer than ye be now, and\nyet shall ye see it more openly than ever ye did, and that shall ye\nunderstand in short time. Then Sir Launcelot asked her where he might\nbe harboured that night. Ye shall not find this day nor night, but\nto-morn ye shall find harbour good, and ease of that ye be in doubt of.\nAnd then he commended her unto God. Then he rode till that he came to a\nCross, and took that for his host as for that night.\nCHAPTER III. Of an advision that Sir Launcelot had, and how he told it\nto an hermit, and desired counsel of him.\nAnd so he put his horse to pasture, and did off his helm and his\nshield, and made his prayers unto the Cross that he never fall in\ndeadly sin again. And so he laid him down to sleep. And anon as he was\nasleep it befell him there an advision, that there came a man afore him\nall by compass of stars, and that man had a crown of gold on his head\nand that man led in his fellowship seven kings and two knights. And all\nthese worshipped the Cross, kneeling upon their knees, holding up their\nhands toward the heaven. And all they said: Fair sweet Father of heaven\ncome and visit us, and yield unto us everych as we have deserved.\nThen looked Launcelot up to the heaven, and him seemed the clouds did\nopen, and an old man came down, with a company of angels, and alighted\namong them, and gave unto everych his blessing, and called them his\nservants, and good and true knights. And when this old man had said\nthus he came to one of those knights, and said: I have lost all that I\nhave set in thee, for thou hast ruled thee against me as a warrior, and\nused wrong wars with vain-glory, more for the pleasure of the world\nthan to please me, therefore thou shalt be confounded without thou\nyield me my treasure. All this advision saw Sir Launcelot at the Cross.\nAnd on the morn he took his horse and rode till mid-day; and there by\nadventure he met with the same knight that took his horse, helm, and\nhis sword, when he slept when the Sangreal appeared afore the Cross.\nWhen Sir Launcelot saw him he saluted hin not fair, but cried on high:\nKnight, keep thee, for thou hast done to me great unkindness. And then\nthey put afore them their spears, and Sir Launcelot came so fiercely\nupon him that he smote him and his horse down to the earth, that he had\nnigh broken his neck. Then Sir Launcelot took the knight\u2019s horse that\nwas his own aforehand, and descended from the horse he sat upon, and\nmounted upon his own horse, and tied the knight\u2019s own horse to a tree,\nthat he might find that horse when that he was arisen. Then Sir\nLauncelot rode till night, and by adventure he met an hermit, and each\nof them saluted other; and there he rested with that good man all\nnight, and gave his horse such as he might get. Then said the good man\nunto Launcelot: Of whence be ye? Sir, said he, I am of Arthur\u2019s court,\nand my name is Sir Launcelot du Lake that am in the quest of the\nSangreal, and therefore I pray you to counsel me of a vision the which\nI had at the Cross. And so he told him all.\nCHAPTER IV. How the hermit expounded to Sir Launcelot his advision, and\ntold him that Sir Galahad was his son.\nLo, Sir Launcelot, said the good man, there thou mightest understand\nthe high lineage that thou art come of, and thine advision betokeneth.\nAfter the passion of Jesu Christ forty year, Joseph of Aramathie\npreached the victory of King Evelake, that he had in the battles the\nbetter of his enemies. And of the seven kings and the two knights: the\nfirst of them is called Nappus, an holy man; and the second hight\nNacien, in remembrance of his grandsire, and in him dwelled our Lord\nJesu Christ; and the third was called Helias le Grose; and the fourth\nhight Lisais; and the fifth hight Jonas, he departed out of his country\nand went into Wales, and took there the daughter of Manuel, whereby he\nhad the land of Gaul, and he came to dwell in this country. And of him\ncame King Launcelot thy grandsire, the which there wedded the king\u2019s\ndaughter of Ireland, and he was as worthy a man as thou art, and of him\ncame King Ban, thy father, the which was the last of the seven kings.\nAnd by thee, Sir Launcelot, it signifieth that the angels said thou\nwere none of the seven fellowships. And the last was the ninth knight,\nhe was signified to a lion, for he should pass all manner of earthly\nknights, that is Sir Galahad, the which thou gat on King Pelles\u2019\ndaughter; and thou ought to thank God more than any other man living,\nfor of a sinner earthly thou hast no peer as in knighthood, nor never\nshall be. But little thank hast thou given to God for all the great\nvirtues that God hath lent thee. Sir, said Launcelot, ye say that that\ngood knight is my son. That oughtest thou to know and no man better,\nsaid the good man, for thou knewest the daughter of King Pelles\nfleshly, and on her thou begattest Galahad, and that was he that at the\nfeast of Pentecost sat in the Siege Perilous; and therefore make thou\nit known openly that he is one of thy begetting on King Pelles\u2019\ndaughter, for that will be your worship and honour, and to all thy\nkindred. And I counsel you in no place press not upon him to have ado\nwith him. Well, said Launcelot, meseemeth that good knight should pray\nfor me unto the High Father, that I fall not to sin again. Trust thou\nwell, said the good man, thou farest mickle the better for his prayer;\nbut the son shall not bear the wickedness of the father, nor the father\nshall not bear the wickedness of the son, but everych shall bear his\nown burden. And therefore beseek thou only God, and He will help thee\nin all thy needs. And then Sir Launcelot and he went to supper, and so\nlaid him to rest, and the hair pricked so Sir Launcelot\u2019s skin which\ngrieved him full sore, but he took it meekly, and suffered the pain.\nAnd so on the morn he heard his mass and took his arms, and so took his\nleave.\nCHAPTER V. How Sir Launcelot jousted with many knights, and how he was\ntaken.\nAnd then mounted upon his horse, and rode into a forest, and held no\nhighway. And as he looked afore him he saw a fair plain, and beside\nthat a fair castle, and afore the castle were many pavilions of silk\nand of diverse hue. And him seemed that he saw there five hundred\nknights riding on horseback; and there were two parties: they that were\nof the castle were all on black horses and their trappings black, and\nthey that were without were all on white horses and trappings, and\neverych hurtled to other that it marvelled Sir Launcelot. And at the\nlast him thought they of the castle were put to the worse.\nThen thought Sir Launcelot for to help there the weaker party in\nincreasing of his chivalry. And so Sir Launcelot thrust in among the\nparty of the castle, and smote down a knight, horse and man, to the\nearth. And then he rashed here and there, and did marvellous deeds of\narms. And then he drew out his sword, and struck many knights to the\nearth, so that all those that saw him marvelled that ever one knight\nmight do so great deeds of arms.\nBut always the white knights held them nigh about Sir Launcelot, for to\ntire him and wind him. But at the last, as a man may not ever endure,\nSir Launcelot waxed so faint of fighting and travailing, and was so\nweary of his great deeds, but he might not lift up his arms for to give\none stroke, so that he weened never to have borne arms; and then they\nall took and led him away into a forest, and there made him to alight\nand to rest him.\nAnd then all the fellowship of the castle were overcome for the default\nof him.\nThen they said all unto Sir Launcelot: Blessed be God that ye be now of\nour fellowship, for we shall hold you in our prison; and so they left\nhim with few words.\nAnd then Sir Launcelot made great sorrow, For never or now was I never\nat tournament nor jousts but I had the best, and now I am shamed; and\nthen he said: Now I am sure that I am more sinfuller than ever I was.\nThus he rode sorrowing, and half a day he was out of despair, till that\nhe came into a deep valley. And when Sir Launcelot saw he might not\nride up into the mountain, he there alighted under an apple tree, and\nthere he left his helm and his shield, and put his horse unto pasture.\nAnd then he laid him down to sleep. And then him thought there came an\nold man afore him, the which said: Ah, Launcelot of evil faith and poor\nbelief, wherefore is thy will turned so lightly toward thy deadly sin?\nAnd when he had said thus he vanished away, and Launcelot wist not\nwhere he was become. Then he took his horse, and armed him; and as he\nrode by the way he saw a chapel where was a recluse, which had a window\nthat she might see up to the altar. And all aloud she called Launcelot,\nfor that he seemed a knight errant. And then he came, and she asked him\nwhat he was, and of what place, and where about he went to seek.\nCHAPTER VI. How Sir Launcelot told his advision to a woman, and how she\nexpounded it to him.\nAnd then he told her altogether word by word, and the truth how it\nbefell him at the tournament. And after told her his advision that he\nhad had that night in his sleep, and prayed her to tell him what it\nmight mean, for he was not well content with it. Ah, Launcelot, said\nshe, as long as ye were knight of earthly knighthood ye were the most\nmarvellous man of the world, and most adventurous. Now, said the lady,\nsithen ye be set among the knights of heavenly adventures, if adventure\nfell thee contrary at that tournament have thou no marvel, for that\ntournament yesterday was but a tokening of Our Lord. And not for then\nthere was none enchantment, for they at the tournament were earthly\nknights. The tournament was a token to see who should have most\nknights, either Eliazar, the son of King Pelles, or Argustus, the son\nof King Harlon. But Eliazar was all clothed in white, and Argustus was\ncovered in black, the which were [over]come.\nAll what this betokeneth I shall tell you. The day of Pentecost, when\nKing Arthur held his court, it befell that earthly kings and knights\ntook a tournament together, that is to say the quest of the Sangreal.\nThe earthly knights were they the which were clothed all in black, and\nthe covering betokeneth the sins whereof they be not confessed. And\nthey with the covering of white betokeneth virginity, and they that\nchose chastity. And thus was the quest begun in them. Then thou beheld\nthe sinners and the good men, and when thou sawest the sinners\novercome, thou inclinest to that party for bobaunce and pride of the\nworld, and all that must be left in that quest, for in this quest thou\nshalt have many fellows and thy betters. For thou art so feeble of evil\ntrust and good belief, this made it when thou were there where they\ntook thee and led thee into the forest. And anon there appeared the\nSangreal unto the white knights, but thou was so feeble of good belief\nand faith that thou mightest not abide it for all the teaching of the\ngood man, but anon thou turnest to the sinners, and that caused thy\nmisadventure that thou should\u2019st know good from evil and vain glory of\nthe world, the which is not worth a pear. And for great pride thou\nmadest great sorrow that thou hadst not overcome all the white knights\nwith the covering of white, by whom was betokened virginity and\nchastity; and therefore God was wroth with you, for God loveth no such\ndeeds in this quest. And this advision signifieth that thou were of\nevil faith and of poor belief, the which will make thee to fall into\nthe deep pit of hell if thou keep thee not. Now have I warned thee of\nthy vain glory and of thy pride, that thou hast many times erred\nagainst thy Maker. Beware of everlasting pain, for of all earthly\nknights I have most pity of thee, for I know well thou hast not thy\npeer of any earthly sinful man.\nAnd so she commended Sir Launcelot to dinner. And after dinner he took\nhis horse and commended her to God, and so rode into a deep valley, and\nthere he saw a river and an high mountain. And through the water he\nmust needs pass, the which was hideous; and then in the name of God he\ntook it with good heart. And when he came over he saw an armed knight,\nhorse and man black as any bear; without any word he smote Sir\nLauncelot\u2019s horse to the earth; and so he passed on, he wist not where\nhe was become. And then he took his helm and his shield, and thanked\nGod of his adventure.\n_Here leaveth off the story of Sir Launcelot, and speak we of Sir\nGawaine, the which is the sixteenth book._\nBOOK XVI.\nCHAPTER I. How Sir Gawaine was nigh weary of the quest of the Sangreal,\nand of his marvellous dream.\nWhen Sir Gawaine was departed from his fellowship he rode long without\nany adventure. For he found not the tenth part of adventure as he was\nwont to do. For Sir Gawaine rode from Whitsuntide until Michaelmas and\nfound none adventure that pleased him. So on a day it befell Gawaine\nmet with Sir Ector de Maris, and either made great joy of other that it\nwere marvel to tell. And so they told everych other, and complained\nthem greatly that they could find none adventure. Truly, said Sir\nGawaine unto Sir Ector, I am nigh weary of this quest, and loath I am\nto follow further in strange countries. One thing marvelled me, said\nSir Ector, I have met with twenty knights, fellows of mine, and all\nthey complain as I do. I have marvel, said Sir Gawaine, where that Sir\nLauncelot, your brother, is. Truly, said Sir Ector, I cannot hear of\nhim, nor of Sir Galahad, Percivale, nor Sir Bors. Let them be, said Sir\nGawaine, for they four have no peers. And if one thing were not in Sir\nLauncelot he had no fellow of none earthly man; but he is as we be, but\nif he took more pain upon him. But an these four be met together they\nwill be loath that any man meet with them; for an they fail of the\nSangreal it is in waste of all the remnant to recover it.\nThus Ector and Gawaine rode more than eight days, and on a Saturday\nthey found an old chapel, the which was wasted that there seemed no man\nthither repaired; and there they alighted, and set their spears at the\ndoor, and in they entered into the chapel, and there made their orisons\na great while, and set them down in the sieges of the chapel. And as\nthey spake of one thing and other, for heaviness they fell asleep, and\nthere befell them both marvellous adventures. Sir Gawaine him seemed he\ncame into a meadow full of herbs and flowers, and there he saw a rack\nof bulls, an hundred and fifty, that were proud and black, save three\nof them were all white, and one had a black spot, and the other two\nwere so fair and so white that they might be no whiter. And these three\nbulls which were so fair were tied with two strong cords. And the\nremnant of the bulls said among them: Go we hence to seek better\npasture. And so some went, and some came again, but they were so lean\nthat they might not stand upright; and of the bulls that were so white,\nthat one came again and no mo. But when this white bull was come again\namong these other there rose up a great cry for lack of wind that\nfailed them; and so they departed one here and another there: this\nadvision befell Gawaine that night.\nCHAPTER II. Of the advision of Sir Ector, and how he jousted with Sir\nUwaine les Avoutres, his sworn brother.\nBut to Ector de Maris befell another vision the contrary. For it seemed\nhim that his brother, Sir Launcelot, and he alighted out of a chair and\nleapt upon two horses, and the one said to the other: Go we seek that\nwe shall not find. And him thought that a man beat Sir Launcelot, and\ndespoiled him, and clothed him in another array, the which was all full\nof knots, and set him upon an ass, and so he rode till he came to the\nfairest well that ever he saw; and Sir Launcelot alighted and would\nhave drunk of that well. And when he stooped to drink of the water the\nwater sank from him. And when Sir Launcelot saw that, he turned and\nwent thither as the head came from. And in the meanwhile he trowed that\nhimself and Sir Ector rode till that they came to a rich man\u2019s house\nwhere there was a wedding. And there he saw a king the which said: Sir\nknight, here is no place for you. And then he turned again unto the\nchair that he came from.\nThus within a while both Gawaine and Ector awaked, and either told\nother of their advision, the which marvelled them greatly. Truly, said\nEctor, I shall never be merry till I hear tidings of my brother\nLauncelot. Now as they sat thus talking they saw an hand showing unto\nthe elbow, and was covered with red samite, and upon that hung a bridle\nnot right rich, and held within the fist a great candle which burned\nright clear, and so passed afore them, and entered into the chapel, and\nthen vanished away and they wist not where. And anon came down a voice\nwhich said: Knights of full evil faith and of poor belief, these two\nthings have failed you, and therefore ye may not come to the adventures\nof the Sangreal.\nThen first spake Gawaine and said: Ector, have ye heard these words?\nYea truly, said Sir Ector, I heard all. Now go we, said Sir Ector, unto\nsome hermit that will tell us of our advision, for it seemeth me we\nlabour all in vain. And so they departed and rode into a valley, and\nthere met with a squire which rode on an hackney, and they saluted him\nfair. Sir, said Gawaine, can thou teach us to any hermit? Here is one\nin a little mountain, but it is so rough there may no horse go thither,\nand therefore ye must go upon foot; there shall ye find a poor house,\nand there is Nacien the hermit, which is the holiest man in this\ncountry. And so they departed either from other.\nAnd then in a valley they met with a knight all armed, which proffered\nthem to joust as far as he saw them. In the name of God, said Sir\nGawaine, sith I departed from Camelot there was none proffered me to\njoust but once. And now, sir, said Ector, let me joust with him. Nay,\nsaid Gawaine, ye shall not but if I be beat; it shall not for-think me\nthen if ye go after me. And then either embraced other to joust and\ncame together as fast as their horses might run, and brast their\nshields and the mails, and the one more than the other; and Gawaine was\nwounded in the left side, but the other knight was smitten through the\nbreast, and the spear came out on the other side, and so they fell both\nout of their saddles, and in the falling they brake both their spears.\nAnon Gawaine arose and set his hand to his sword, and cast his shield\nafore him. But all for naught was it, for the knight had no power to\narise against him. Then said Gawaine: Ye must yield you as an overcome\nman, or else I may slay you. Ah, sir knight, said he, I am but dead,\nfor God\u2019s sake and of your gentleness lead me here unto an abbey that I\nmay receive my Creator. Sir, said Gawaine, I know no house of religion\nhereby. Sir, said the knight, set me on an horse to-fore you, and I\nshall teach you. Gawaine set him up in the saddle, and he leapt up\nbehind him for to sustain him, and so came to an abbey where they were\nwell received; and anon he was unarmed, and received his Creator. Then\nhe prayed Gawaine to draw out the truncheon of the spear out of his\nbody. Then Gawaine asked him what he was, that knew him not. I am, said\nhe, of King Arthur\u2019s court, and was a fellow of the Round Table, and we\nwere brethren sworn together; and now Sir Gawaine, thou hast slain me,\nand my name is Uwaine les Avoutres, that sometime was son unto King\nUriens, and was in the quest of the Sangreal; and now forgive it thee\nGod, for it shall ever be said that the one sworn brother hath slain\nthe other.\nCHAPTER III. How Sir Gawaine and Sir Ector came to an hermitage to be\nconfessed, and how they told to the hermit their advisions.\nAlas, said Gawaine, that ever this misadventure is befallen me. No\nforce, said Uwaine, sith I shall die this death, of a much more\nworshipfuller man\u2019s hand might I not die; but when ye come to the court\nrecommend me unto my lord, King Arthur, and all those that be left\nalive, and for old brotherhood think on me. Then began Gawaine to weep,\nand Ector also. And then Uwaine himself and Sir Gawaine drew out the\ntruncheon of the spear, and anon departed the soul from the body. Then\nSir Gawaine and Sir Ector buried him as men ought to bury a king\u2019s son,\nand made write upon his name, and by whom he was slain.\nThen departed Gawaine and Ector, as heavy as they might for their\nmisadventure, and so rode till that they came to the rough mountain,\nand there they tied their horses and went on foot to the hermitage. And\nwhen they were come up they saw a poor house, and beside the chapel a\nlittle courtelage, where Nacien the hermit gathered worts, as he which\nhad tasted none other meat of a great while. And when he saw the errant\nknights he came toward them and saluted them, and they him again. Fair\nlords, said he, what adventure brought you hither? Sir, said Gawaine,\nto speak with you for to be confessed. Sir, said the hermit, I am\nready. Then they told him so much that he wist well what they were. And\nthen he thought to counsel them if he might.\nThen began Gawaine first and told him of his advision that he had had\nin the chapel, and Ector told him all as it is afore rehearsed. Sir,\nsaid the hermit unto Sir Gawaine, the fair meadow and the rack therein\nought to be understood the Round Table, and by the meadow ought to be\nunderstood humility and patience, those be the things which be always\ngreen and quick; for men may no time overcome humility and patience,\ntherefore was the Round Table founded, and the chivalry hath been at\nall times so by the fraternity which was there that she might not be\novercome; for men said she was founded in patience and in humility. At\nthe rack ate an hundred and fifty bulls; but they ate not in the\nmeadow, for their hearts should be set in humility and patience, and\nthe bulls were proud and black save only three. By the bulls is to\nunderstand the fellowship of the Round Table, which for their sin and\ntheir wickedness be black. Blackness is to say without good or virtuous\nworks. And the three bulls which were white save only one that was\nspotted: the two white betoken Sir Galahad and Sir Percivale, for they\nbe maidens clean and without spot; and the third that had a spot\nsignifieth Sir Bors de Ganis, which trespassed but once in his\nvirginity, but sithen he kept himself so well in chastity that all is\nforgiven him and his misdeeds. And why those three were tied by the\nnecks, they be three knights in virginity and chastity, and there is no\npride smitten in them. And the black bulls which said: Go we hence,\nthey were those which at Pentecost at the high feast took upon them to\ngo in the quest of the Sangreal without confession: they might not\nenter in the meadow of humility and patience. And therefore they\nreturned into waste countries, that signifieth death, for there shall\ndie many of them: everych of them shall slay other for sin, and they\nthat shall escape shall be so lean that it shall be marvel to see them.\nAnd of the three bulls without spot, the one shall come again, and the\nother two never.\nCHAPTER IV. How the hermit expounded their advision.\nThen spake Nacien unto Ector: Sooth it is that Launcelot and ye came\ndown off one chair: the chair betokeneth mastership and lordship which\nye came down from. But ye two knights, said the hermit, ye go to seek\nthat ye shall never find, that is the Sangreal; for it is the secret\nthing of our Lord Jesu Christ. What is to mean that Sir Launcelot fell\ndown off his horse: he hath left pride and taken him to humility, for\nhe hath cried mercy loud for his sin, and sore repented him, and our\nLord hath clothed him in his clothing which is full of knots, that is\nthe hair that he weareth daily. And the ass that he rode upon is a\nbeast of humility, for God would not ride upon no steed, nor upon no\npalfrey; so in ensample that an ass betokeneth meekness, that thou\nsawest Sir Launcelot ride on in thy sleep. And the well whereas the\nwater sank from him when he should have taken thereof, and when he saw\nhe might not have it, he returned thither from whence he came, for the\nwell betokeneth the high grace of God, the more men desire it to take\nit, the more shall be their desire. So when he came nigh the Sangreal,\nhe meeked him that he held him not a man worthy to be so nigh the Holy\nVessel, for he had been so defouled in deadly sin by the space of many\nyears; yet when he kneeled to drink of the well, there he saw great\nprovidence of the Sangreal. And for he had served so long the devil, he\nshall have vengeance four-and-twenty days long, for that he hath been\nthe devil\u2019s servant four-and-twenty years. And then soon after he shall\nreturn unto Camelot out of this country, and he shall say a part of\nsuch things as he hath found.\nNow will I tell you what betokeneth the hand with the candle and the\nbridle: that is to understand the Holy Ghost where charity is ever, and\nthe bridle signifieth abstinence. For when she is bridled in Christian\nman\u2019s heart she holdeth him so short that he falleth not in deadly sin.\nAnd the candle which sheweth clearness and sight signifieth the right\nway of Jesu Christ. And when he went and said: Knights of poor faith\nand of wicked belief, these three things failed, charity, abstinence,\nand truth; therefore ye may not attain that high adventure of the\nSangreal.\nCHAPTER V. Of the good counsel that the hermit gave to them.\nCertes, said Gawaine, soothly have ye said, that I see it openly. Now,\nI pray you, good man and holy father, tell me why we met not with so\nmany adventures as we were wont to do, and commonly have the better. I\nshall tell you gladly, said the good man; the adventure of the Sangreal\nwhich ye and many other have undertaken the quest of it and find it\nnot, the cause is for it appeareth not to sinners. Wherefore marvel not\nthough ye fail thereof, and many other. For ye be an untrue knight and\na great murderer, and to good men signifieth other things than murder.\nFor I dare say, as sinful as Sir Launcelot hath been, sith that he went\ninto the quest of the Sangreal he slew never man, nor nought shall,\ntill that he come unto Camelot again, for he hath taken upon him for to\nforsake sin. And nere that he nis not stable, but by his thought he is\nlikely to turn again, he should be next to enchieve it save Galahad,\nhis son. But God knoweth his thought and his unstableness, and yet\nshall he die right an holy man, and no doubt he hath no fellow of no\nearthly sinful man. Sir, said Gawaine, it seemeth me by your words that\nfor our sins it will not avail us to travel in this quest. Truly, said\nthe good man, there be an hundred such as ye be that never shall\nprevail, but to have shame. And when they had heard these voices they\ncommended him unto God.\nThen the good man called Gawaine, and said: It is long time passed sith\nthat ye were made knight, and never sithen thou servedst thy Maker, and\nnow thou art so old a tree that in thee is neither life nor fruit;\nwherefore bethink thee that thou yield to Our Lord the bare rind, sith\nthe fiend hath the leaves and the fruit. Sir, said Gawaine an I had\nleisure I would speak with you, but my fellow here, Sir Ector, is gone,\nand abideth me yonder beneath the hill. Well, said the good man, thou\nwere better to be counselled. Then departed Gawaine and came to Ector,\nand so took their horses and rode till they came to a forester\u2019s house,\nwhich harboured them right well. And on the morn they departed from\ntheir host, and rode long or they could find any adventure.\nCHAPTER VI. How Sir Bors met with an hermit, and how he was confessed\nto him, and of his penance enjoined to him.\nWhen Bors was departed from Camelot he met with a religious man riding\non an ass, and Sir Bors saluted him. Anon the good man knew him that he\nwas one of the knights-errant that was in the quest of the Sangreal.\nWhat are ye? said the good man. Sir, said he, I am a knight that fain\nwould be counselled in the quest of the Sangreal, for he shall have\nmuch earthly worship that may bring it to an end. Certes, said the good\nman, that is sooth, for he shall be the best knight of the world, and\nthe fairest of all the fellowship. But wit you well there shall none\nattain it but by cleanness, that is pure confession.\nSo rode they together till that they came to an hermitage. And there he\nprayed Bors to dwell all that night with him. And so he alighted and\nput away his armour, and prayed him that he might be confessed; and so\nthey went into the chapel, and there he was clean confessed, and they\nate bread and drank water together. Now, said the good man, I pray thee\nthat thou eat none other till that thou sit at the table where the\nSangreal shall be. Sir, said he, I agree me thereto, but how wit ye\nthat I shall sit there. Yes, said the good man, that know I, but there\nshall be but few of your fellows with you. All is welcome, said Sir\nBors, that God sendeth me. Also, said the good man, instead of a shirt,\nand in sign of chastisement, ye shall wear a garment; therefore I pray\nyou do off all your clothes and your shirt: and so he did. And then he\ntook him a scarlet coat, so that should be instead of his shirt till he\nhad fulfilled the quest of the Sangreal; and the good man found in him\nso marvellous a life and so stable, that he marvelled and felt that he\nwas never corrupt in fleshly lusts, but in one time that he begat Elian\nle Blank.\nThen he armed him, and took his leave, and so departed. And so a little\nfrom thence he looked up into a tree, and there he saw a passing great\nbird upon an old tree, and it was passing dry, without leaves; and the\nbird sat above, and had birds, the which were dead for hunger. So smote\nhe himself with his beak, the which was great and sharp. And so the\ngreat bird bled till that he died among his birds. And the young birds\ntook the life by the blood of the great bird. When Bors saw this he\nwist well it was a great tokening; for when he saw the great bird arose\nnot, then he took his horse and yede his way. So by evensong, by\nadventure he came to a strong tower and an high, and there was he\nlodged gladly.\nCHAPTER VII. How Sir Bors was lodged with a lady, and how he took upon\nhim for to fight against a champion for her land.\nAnd when he was unarmed they led him into an high tower where was a\nlady, young, lusty, and fair. And she received him with great joy, and\nmade him to sit down by her, and so was he set to sup with flesh and\nmany dainties. And when Sir Bors saw that, he bethought him on his\npenance, and bade a squire to bring him water. And so he brought him,\nand he made sops therein and ate them. Ah, said the lady, I trow ye\nlike not my meat. Yes, truly, said Sir Bors, God thank you, madam, but\nI may eat none other meat this day. Then she spake no more as at that\ntime, for she was loath to displease him. Then after supper they spake\nof one thing and other.\nWith that came a squire and said: Madam, ye must purvey you to-morn for\na champion, for else your sister will have this castle and also your\nlands, except ye can find a knight that will fight to-morn in your\nquarrel against Pridam le Noire. Then she made sorrow and said: Ah,\nLord God, wherefore granted ye to hold my land, whereof I should now be\ndisherited without reason and right? And when Sir Bors had heard her\nsay thus, he said: I shall comfort you. Sir, said she, I shall tell you\nthere was here a king that hight Aniause, which held all this land in\nhis keeping. So it mishapped he loved a gentlewoman a great deal elder\nthan I. So took he her all this land to her keeping, and all his men to\ngovern; and she brought up many evil customs whereby she put to death a\ngreat part of his kinsmen. And when he saw that, he let chase her out\nof this land, and betook it me, and all this land in my demesnes. But\nanon as that worthy king was dead, this other lady began to war upon\nme, and hath destroyed many of my men, and turned them against me, that\nI have well-nigh no man left me; and I have nought else but this high\ntower that she left me. And yet she hath promised me to have this\ntower, without I can find a knight to fight with her champion.\nNow tell me, said Sir Bors, what is that Pridam le Noire? Sir, said\nshe, he is the most doubted man of this land. Now may ye send her word\nthat ye have found a knight that shall fight with that Pridam le Noire\nin God\u2019s quarrel and yours. Then that lady was not a little glad, and\nsent word that she was purveyed, and that night Bors had good cheer;\nbut in no bed he would come, but laid him on the floor, nor never would\ndo otherwise till that he had met with the quest of the Sangreal.\nCHAPTER VIII. Of an advision which Sir Bors had that night, and how he\nfought and overcame his adversary.\nAnd anon as he was asleep him befell a vision, that there came to him\ntwo birds, the one as white as a swan, and the other was marvellous\nblack; but it was not so great as the other, but in the likeness of a\nRaven. Then the white bird came to him, and said: An thou wouldst give\nme meat and serve me I should give thee all the riches of the world,\nand I shall make thee as fair and as white as I am. So the white bird\ndeparted, and there came the black bird to him, and said: An thou wolt,\nserve me to-morrow and have me in no despite though I be black, for wit\nthou well that more availeth my blackness than the other\u2019s whiteness.\nAnd then he departed.\nAnd he had another vision: him thought that he came to a great place\nwhich seemed a chapel, and there he found a chair set on the left side,\nwhich was worm-eaten and feeble. And on the right hand were two flowers\nlike a lily, and the one would have benome the other\u2019s whiteness, but a\ngood man departed them that the one touched not the other; and then out\nof every flower came out many flowers, and fruit great plenty. Then him\nthought the good man said: Should not he do great folly that would let\nthese two flowers perish for to succour the rotten tree, that it fell\nnot to the earth? Sir, said he, it seemeth me that this wood might not\navail. Now keep thee, said the good man, that thou never see such\nadventure befall thee.\nThen he awaked and made a sign of the cross in midst of the forehead,\nand so rose and clothed him. And there came the lady of the place, and\nshe saluted him, and he her again, and so went to a chapel and heard\ntheir service. And there came a company of knights, that the lady had\nsent for, to lead Sir Bors unto battle. Then asked he his arms. And\nwhen he was armed she prayed him to take a little morsel to dine. Nay,\nmadam, said he, that shall I not do till I have done my battle, by the\ngrace of God. And so he leapt upon his horse, and departed, all the\nknights and men with him. And as soon as these two ladies met together,\nshe which Bors should fight for complained her, and said: Madam, ye\nhave done me wrong to bereave me of my lands that King Aniause gave me,\nand full loath I am there should be any battle. Ye shall not choose,\nsaid the other lady, or else your knight withdraw him.\nThen there was the cry made, which party had the better of the two\nknights, that his lady should rejoice all the land. Now departed the\none knight here, and the other there. Then they came together with such\na raundon that they pierced their shields and their hauberks, and the\nspears flew in pieces, and they wounded either other sore. Then hurtled\nthey together, so that they fell both to the earth, and their horses\nbetwixt their legs; and anon they arose, and set hands to their swords,\nand smote each one other upon the heads, that they made great wounds\nand deep, that the blood went out of their bodies. For there found Sir\nBors greater defence in that knight more than he weened. For that\nPridam was a passing good knight, and he wounded Sir Bors full evil,\nand he him again; but ever this Pridam held the stour in like hard.\nThat perceived Sir Bors, and suffered him till he was nigh attaint. And\nthen he ran upon him more and more, and the other went back for dread\nof death. So in his withdrawing he fell upright, and Sir Bors drew his\nhelm so strongly that he rent it from his head, and gave him great\nstrokes with the flat of his sword upon the visage, and bade him yield\nhim or he should slay him. Then he cried him mercy and said: Fair\nknight, for God\u2019s love slay me not, and I shall ensure thee never to\nwar against thy lady, but be alway toward her. Then Bors let him be;\nthen the old lady fled with all her knights.\nCHAPTER IX. How the lady was returned to her lands by the battle of Sir\nBors, and of his departing, and how he met Sir Lionel taken and beaten\nwith thorns, and also of a maid which should have been devoured.\nSo then came Bors to all those that held lands of his lady, and said he\nshould destroy them but if they did such service unto her as longed to\ntheir lands. So they did their homage, and they that would not were\nchased out of their lands. Then befell that young lady to come to her\nestate again, by the mighty prowess of Sir Bors de Ganis. So when all\nthe country was well set in peace, then Sir Bors took his leave and\ndeparted; and she thanked him greatly, and would have given him great\nriches, but he refused it.\nThen he rode all that day till night, and came to an harbour to a lady\nwhich knew him well enough, and made of him great Joy. Upon the morn,\nas soon as the day appeared, Bors departed from thence, and so rode\ninto a forest unto the hour of midday, and there befell him a\nmarvellous adventure. So he met at the departing of the two ways two\nknights that led Lionel, his brother, all naked, bounden upon a strong\nhackney, and his hands bounden to-fore his breast. And everych of them\nheld in his hands thorns wherewith they went beating him so sore that\nthe blood trailed down more than in an hundred places of his body, so\nthat he was all blood to-fore and behind, but he said never a word; as\nhe which was great of heart he suffered all that ever they did to him,\nas though he had felt none anguish.\nAnon Sir Bors dressed him to rescue him that was his brother; and so he\nlooked upon the other side of him, and saw a knight which brought a\nfair gentlewoman, and would have set her in the thickest place of the\nforest for to have been the more surer out of the way from them that\nsought him. And she which was nothing assured cried with an high voice:\nSaint Mary succour your maid. And anon she espied where Sir Bors came\nriding. And when she came nigh him she deemed him a knight of the Round\nTable, whereof she hoped to have some comfort; and then she conjured\nhim: By the faith that he ought unto Him in whose service thou art\nentered in, and for the faith ye owe unto the high order of knighthood,\nand for the noble King Arthur\u2019s sake, that I suppose made thee knight,\nthat thou help me, and suffer me not to be shamed of this knight. When\nBors heard her say thus he had so much sorrow there he nist not what to\ndo. For if I let my brother be in adventure he must be slain, and that\nwould I not for all the earth. And if I help not the maid she is shamed\nfor ever, and also she shall lose her virginity the which she shall\nnever get again. Then lift he up his eyes and said weeping: Fair sweet\nLord Jesu Christ, whose liege man I am, keep Lionel, my brother, that\nthese knights slay him not, and for pity of you, and for Mary\u2019s sake, I\nshall succour this maid.\nCHAPTER X. How Sir Bors left to rescue his brother, and rescued the\ndamosel; and how it was told him that Lionel was dead.\nThen dressed he him unto the knight the which had the gentlewoman, and\nthen he cried: Sir knight, let your hand off that maiden, or ye be but\ndead. And then he set down the maiden, and was armed at all pieces save\nhe lacked his spear. Then he dressed his shield, and drew out his\nsword, and Bors smote him so hard that it went through his shield and\nhabergeon on the left shoulder. And through great strength he beat him\ndown to the earth, and at the pulling out of Bors\u2019 spear there he\nswooned. Then came Bors to the maid and said: How seemeth it you? of\nthis knight ye be delivered at this time. Now sir, said she, I pray you\nlead me thereas this knight had me. So shall I do gladly: and took the\nhorse of the wounded knight, and set the gentlewoman upon him, and so\nbrought her as she desired. Sir knight, said she, ye have better sped\nthan ye weened, for an I had lost my maidenhead, five hundred men\nshould have died for it. What knight was he that had you in the forest?\nBy my faith, said she, he is my cousin. So wot I never with what engine\nthe fiend enchafed him, for yesterday he took me from my father\nprivily; for I, nor none of my father\u2019s men, mistrusted him not, and if\nhe had had my maidenhead he should have died for the sin, and his body\nshamed and dishonoured for ever. Thus as she stood talking with him\nthere came twelve knights seeking after her, and anon she told them all\nhow Bors had delivered her; then they made great joy, and besought him\nto come to her father, a great lord, and he should be right welcome.\nTruly, said Bors, that may not be at this time, for I have a great\nadventure to do in this country. So he commended them unto God and\ndeparted.\nThen Sir Bors rode after Lionel, his brother, by the trace of their\nhorses, thus he rode seeking a great while. Then he overtook a man\nclothed in a religious clothing; and rode on a strong black horse\nblacker than a berry, and said: Sir knight, what seek you? Sir, said\nhe, I seek my brother that I saw within a while beaten with two\nknights. Ah, Bors, discomfort you not, nor fall into no wanhope; for I\nshall tell you tidings such as they be, for truly he is dead. Then\nshowed he him a new slain body lying in a bush, and it seemed him well\nthat it was the body of Lionel, and then he made such a sorrow that he\nfell to the earth all in a swoon, and lay a great while there. And when\nhe came to himself he said: Fair brother, sith the company of you and\nme is departed shall I never have joy in my heart, and now He which I\nhave taken unto my master, He be my help. And when he had said thus he\ntook his body lightly in his arms, and put it upon the arson of his\nsaddle. And then he said to the man: Canst thou tell me unto some\nchapel where that I may bury this body? Come on, said he, here is one\nfast by; and so long they rode till they saw a fair tower, and afore it\nthere seemed an old feeble chapel. And then they alighted both, and put\nhim into a tomb of marble.\nCHAPTER XI. How Sir Bors told his dream to a priest, which he had\ndreamed, and of the counsel that the priest gave to him.\nNow leave we him here, said the good man, and go we to our harbour till\nto-morrow; we will come here again to do him service. Sir, said Bors,\nbe ye a priest? Yea forsooth, said he. Then I pray you tell me a dream\nthat befell to me the last night. Say on, said he. Then he began so\nmuch to tell him of the great bird in the forest, and after told him of\nhis birds, one white, another black, and of the rotten tree, and of the\nwhite flowers. Sir, I shall tell you a part now, and the other deal\nto-morrow. The white fowl betokeneth a gentlewoman, fair and rich,\nwhich loved thee paramours, and hath loved thee long; and if thou warn\nher love she shall go die anon, if thou have no pity on her. That\nsignifieth the great bird, the which shall make thee to warn her. Now\nfor no fear that thou hast, ne for no dread that thou hast of God, thou\nshalt not warn her, but thou wouldst not do it for to be holden chaste,\nfor to conquer the loos of the vain glory of the world; for that shall\nbefall thee now an thou warn her, that Launcelot, the good knight, thy\ncousin, shall die. And therefore men shall now say that thou art a\nmanslayer, both of thy brother, Sir Lionel, and of thy cousin, Sir\nLauncelot du Lake, the which thou mightest have saved and rescued\neasily, but thou weenedst to rescue a maid which pertaineth nothing to\nthee. Now look thou whether it had been greater harm of thy brother\u2019s\ndeath, or else to have suffered her to have lost her maidenhood. Then\nasked he him: Hast thou heard the tokens of thy dream the which I have\ntold to you? Yea forsooth, said Sir Bors, all your exposition and\ndeclaring of my dream I have well understood and heard. Then said the\nman in this black clothing: Then is it in thy default if Sir Launcelot,\nthy cousin, die. Sir, said Bors, that were me loath, for wit ye well\nthere is nothing in the world but I had liefer do it than to see my\nlord, Sir Launcelot du Lake, to die in my default. Choose ye now the\none or the other, said the good man.\nAnd then he led Sir Bors into an high tower, and there he found knights\nand ladies: those ladies said he was welcome, and so they unarmed him.\nAnd when he was in his doublet men brought him a mantle furred with\nermine, and put it about him; and then they made him such cheer that he\nhad forgotten all his sorrow and anguish, and only set his heart in\nthese delights and dainties, and took no thought more for his brother,\nSir Lionel, neither of Sir Launcelot du Lake, his cousin. And anon came\nout of a chamber to him the fairest lady than ever he saw, and more\nricher beseen than ever he saw Queen Guenever or any other estate. Lo,\nsaid they, Sir Bors, here is the lady unto whom we owe all our service,\nand I trow she be the richest lady and the fairest of all the world,\nand the which loveth you best above all other knights, for she will\nhave no knight but you. And when he understood that language he was\nabashed. Not for then she saluted him, and he her; and then they sat\ndown together and spake of many things, in so much that she besought\nhim to be her love, for she had loved him above all earthly men, and\nshe should make him richer than ever was man of his age. When Bors\nunderstood her words he was right evil at ease, which in no manner\nwould not break chastity, so wist not he how to answer her.\nCHAPTER XII. How the devil in a woman\u2019s likeness would have had Sir\nBors to have lain by her, and how by God\u2019s grace he escaped.\nAlas, said she, Bors, shall ye not do my will? Madam, said Bors, there\nis no lady in the world whose will I will fulfil as of this thing, for\nmy brother lieth dead which was slain right late. Ah Bors, said she, I\nhave loved you long for the great beauty I have seen in you, and the\ngreat hardiness that I have heard of you, that needs ye must lie by me\nthis night, and therefore I pray you grant it me. Truly, said he, I\nshall not do it in no manner wise. Then she made him such sorrow as\nthough she would have died. Well Bors, said she, unto this have ye\nbrought me, nigh to mine end. And therewith she took him by the hand,\nand bade him behold her. And ye shall see how I shall die for your\nlove. Ah, said then he, that shall I never see.\nThen she departed and went up into an high battlement, and led with her\ntwelve gentlewomen; and when they were above, one of the gentlewomen\ncried, and said: Ah, Sir Bors, gentle knight have mercy on us all, and\nsuffer my lady to have her will, and if ye do not we must suffer death\nwith our lady, for to fall down off this high tower, and if ye suffer\nus thus to die for so little a thing all ladies and gentlewomen will\nsay or you dishonour. Then looked he upward, they seemed all ladies of\ngreat estate, and richly and well beseen. Then had he of them great\npity; not for that he was uncounselled in himself that liefer he had\nthey all had lost their souls than he his, and with that they fell\nadown all at once unto the earth. And when he saw that, he was all\nabashed, and had thereof great marvel. With that he blessed his body\nand his visage. And anon he heard a great noise and a great cry, as\nthough all the fiends of hell had been about him; and therewith he saw\nneither tower, nor lady, nor gentlewoman, nor no chapel where he\nbrought his brother to. Then held he up both his hands to the heaven,\nand said: Fair Father God, I am grievously escaped; and then he took\nhis arms and his horse and rode on his way.\nThen he heard a clock smite on his right hand; and thither he came to\nan abbey on his right hand, closed with high walls, and there was let\nin. Then they supposed that he was one of the quest of the Sangreal, so\nthey led him into a chamber and unarmed him. Sirs, said Sir Bors, if\nthere be any holy man in this house I pray you let me speak with him.\nThen one of them led him unto the Abbot, which was in a chapel. And\nthen Sir Bors saluted him, and he him again. Sir, said Bors, I am a\nknight-errant; and told him all the adventure which he had seen. Sir\nKnight, said the Abbot, I wot not what ye be, for I weened never that a\nknight of your age might have been so strong in the grace of our Lord\nJesu Christ. Not for then ye shall go unto your rest, for I will not\ncounsel you this day, it is too late, and to-morrow I shall counsel you\nas I can.\nCHAPTER XIII. Of the holy communication of an Abbot to Sir Bors, and\nhow the Abbot counselled him.\nAnd that night was Sir Bors served richly; and on the morn early he\nheard mass, and the Abbot came to him, and bade him good morrow, and\nBors to him again. And then he told him he was a fellow of the quest of\nthe Sangreal, and how he had charge of the holy man to eat bread and\nwater. Then [said the Abbot]: Our Lord Jesu Christ showed him unto you\nin the likeness of a soul that suffered great anguish for us, since He\nwas put upon the cross, and bled His heart-blood for mankind: there was\nthe token and the likeness of the Sangreal that appeared afore you, for\nthe blood that the great fowl bled revived the chickens from death to\nlife. And by the bare tree is betokened the world which is naked and\nwithout fruit but if it come of Our Lord. Also the lady for whom ye\nfought for, and King Aniause which was lord there-to-fore, betokeneth\nJesu Christ which is the King of the world. And that ye fought with the\nchampion for the lady, this it betokeneth: for when ye took the battle\nfor the lady, by her shall ye understand the new law of Jesu Christ and\nHoly Church; and by the other lady ye shall understand the old law and\nthe fiend, which all day warreth against Holy Church, therefore ye did\nyour battle with right. For ye be Jesu Christ\u2019s knights, therefore ye\nought to be defenders of Holy Church. And by the black bird might ye\nunderstand Holy Church, which sayeth I am black, but he is fair. And by\nthe white bird might men understand the fiend, and I shall tell you how\nthe swan is white without-forth, and black within: it is hypocrisy\nwhich is without yellow or pale, and seemeth without-forth the servants\nof Jesu Christ, but they be within so horrible of filth and sin, and\nbeguile the world evil. Also when the fiend appeared to thee in\nlikeness of a man of religion, and blamed thee that thou left thy\nbrother for a lady, so led thee where thou seemed thy brother was\nslain, but he is yet alive; and all was for to put thee in error, and\nbring thee unto wanhope and lechery, for he knew thou were tender\nhearted, and all was for thou shouldst not find the blessed adventure\nof the Sangreal. And the third fowl betokeneth the strong battle\nagainst the fair ladies which were all devils. Also the dry tree and\nthe white lily: the dry tree betokeneth thy brother Lionel, which is\ndry without virtue, and therefore many men ought to call him the rotten\ntree, and the worm-eaten tree, for he is a murderer and doth contrary\nto the order of knighthood. And the two white flowers signify two\nmaidens, the one is a knight which was wounded the other day, and the\nother is the gentlewoman which ye rescued; and why the other flower\ndrew nigh the other, that was the knight which would have defouled her\nand himself both. And Sir Bors, ye had been a great fool and in great\nperil for to have seen those two flowers perish for to succour the\nrotten tree, for an they had sinned together they had been damned; and\nfor that ye rescued them both, men might call you a very knight and\nservant of Jesu Christ.\nCHAPTER XIV. How Sir Bors met with his brother Sir Lionel, and how Sir\nLionel would have slain Sir Bors.\nThen went Sir Bors from thence and commended the Abbot unto God. And\nthen he rode all that day, and harboured with an old lady. And on the\nmorn he rode to a castle in a valley, and there he met with a yeoman\ngoing a great pace toward a forest. Say me, said Sir Bors, canst thou\ntell me of any adventure? Sir, said he, here shall be under this castle\na great and a marvellous tournament. Of what folks shall it be? said\nSir Bors. The Earl of Plains shall be in the one party, and the lady\u2019s\nnephew of Hervin on the other party. Then Bors thought to be there if\nhe might meet with his brother Sir Lionel, or any other of his\nfellowship, which were in the quest of the Sangreal. And then he turned\nto an hermitage that was in the entry of the forest.\nAnd when he was come thither he found there Sir Lionel, his brother,\nwhich sat all armed at the entry of the chapel door for to abide there\nharbour till on the morn that the tournament shall be. And when Sir\nBors saw him he had great joy of him, that it were marvel to tell of\nhis joy. And then he alighted off his horse, and said: Fair sweet\nbrother, when came ye hither? Anon as Lionel saw him he said: Ah Bors,\nye may not make none avaunt, but as for you I might have been slain;\nwhen ye saw two knights leading me away beating me, ye left me for to\nsuccour a gentlewoman, and suffered me in peril of death; for never\nerst ne did no brother to another so great an untruth. And for that\nmisdeed now I ensure you but death, for well have ye deserved it;\ntherefore keep thee from henceforward, and that shall ye find as soon\nas I am armed. When Sir Bors understood his brother\u2019s wrath he kneeled\ndown to the earth and cried him mercy, holding up both his hands, and\nprayed him to forgive him his evil will. Nay, said Lionel, that shall\nnever be an I may have the higher hand, that I make mine avow to God,\nthou shalt have death for it, for it were pity ye lived any longer.\nRight so he went in and took his harness, and mounted upon his horse,\nand came to-fore him and said: Bors, keep thee from me, for I shall do\nto thee as I would to a felon or a traitor, for ye be the untruest\nknight that ever came out of so worthy an house as was King Bors de\nGanis which was our father, therefore start upon thy horse, and so\nshall ye be most at your advantage. And but if ye will I will run upon\nyou thereas ye stand upon foot, and so the shame shall be mine and the\nharm yours, but of that shame ne reck I nought.\nWhen Sir Bors saw that he must fight with his brother or else to die,\nhe nist what to do; then his heart counselled him not thereto, inasmuch\nas Lionel was born or he, wherefore he ought to bear him reverence; yet\nkneeled he down afore Lionel\u2019s horse\u2019s feet, and said: Fair sweet\nbrother, have mercy upon me and slay me not, and have in remembrance\nthe great love which ought to be between us twain. What Sir Bors said\nto Lionel he rought not, for the fiend had brought him in such a will\nthat he should slay him. Then when Lionel saw he would none other, and\nthat he would not have risen to give him battle, he rashed over him so\nthat he smote Bors with his horse, feet upward, to the earth, and hurt\nhim so sore that he swooned of distress, the which he felt in himself\nto have died without confession. So when Lionel saw this, he alighted\noff his horse to have smitten off his head. And so he took him by the\nhelm, and would have rent it from his head. Then came the hermit\nrunning unto him, which was a good man and of great age, and well had\nheard all the words that were between them, and so fell down upon Sir\nBors.\nCHAPTER XV. How Sir Colgrevance fought against Sir Lionel for to save\nSir Bors, and how the hermit was slain.\nThen he said to Lionel: Ah gentle knight, have mercy upon me and on thy\nbrother, for if thou slay him thou shalt be dead of sin, and that were\nsorrowful, for he is one of the worthiest knights of the world, and of\nthe best conditions. So God help me, said Lionel, sir priest, but if ye\nflee from him I shall slay you, and he shall never the sooner be quit.\nCertes, said the good man, I have liefer ye slay me than him, for my\ndeath shall not be great harm, not half so much as of his. Well, said\nLionel, I am greed; and set his hand to his sword and smote him so hard\nthat his head yede backward. Not for that he restrained him of his evil\nwill, but took his brother by the helm, and unlaced it to have stricken\noff his head, and had slain him without fail. But so it happed,\nColgrevance a fellow of the Round Table, came at that time thither as\nOur Lord\u2019s will was. And when he saw the good man slain he marvelled\nmuch what it might be. And then he beheld Lionel would have slain his\nbrother, and knew Sir Bors which he loved right well. Then stert he\ndown and took Lionel by the shoulders, and drew him strongly aback from\nBors, and said: Lionel, will ye slay your brother, the worthiest knight\nof the world one? and that should no good man suffer. Why, said Lionel,\nwill ye let me? therefore if ye entermete you in this I shall slay you,\nand him after. Why, said Colgrevance, is this sooth that ye will slay\nhim? Slay him will I, said he, whoso say the contrary, for he hath done\nso much against me that he hath well deserved it. And so ran upon him,\nand would have smitten him through the head, and Sir Colgrevance ran\nbetwixt them, and said: An ye be so hardy to do so more, we two shall\nmeddle together.\nWhen Lionel understood his words he took his shield afore him, and\nasked him what that he was. And he told him, Colgrevance, one of his\nfellows. Then Lionel defied him, and gave him a great stroke through\nthe helm. Then he drew his sword, for he was a passing good knight, and\ndefended him right manfully. So long dured the battle that Bors rose up\nall anguishly, and beheld [how] Colgrevance, the good knight, fought\nwith his brother for his quarrel; then was he full sorry and heavy, and\nthought if Colgrevance slew him that was his brother he should never\nhave joy; and if his brother slew Colgrevance the shame should ever be\nmine. Then would he have risen to have departed them, but he had not so\nmuch might to stand on foot; so he abode him so long till Colgrevance\nhad the worse, for Lionel was of great chivalry and right hardy, for he\nhad pierced the hauberk and the helm, that he abode but death, for he\nhad lost much of his blood that it was marvel that he might stand\nupright. Then beheld he Sir Bors which sat dressing him upward and\nsaid: Ah, Bors, why come ye not to cast me out of peril of death,\nwherein I have put me to succour you which were right now nigh the\ndeath? Certes, said Lionel, that shall not avail you, for none of you\nshall bear others warrant, but that ye shall die both of my hand. When\nBors heard that, he did so much, he rose and put on his helm. Then\nperceived he first the hermit-priest which was slain, then made he a\nmarvellous sorrow upon him.\nCHAPTER XVI. How Sir Lionel slew Sir Colgrevance, and how after he\nwould have slain Sir Bors.\nThen oft Colgrevance cried upon Sir Bors: Why will ye let me die here\nfor your sake? if it please you that I die for you the death, it will\nplease me the better for to save a worthy man. With that word Sir\nLionel smote off the helm from his head. Then Colgrevance saw that he\nmight not escape; then he said: Fair sweet Jesu, that I have misdone\nhave mercy upon my soul, for such sorrow that my heart suffereth for\ngoodness, and for alms deed that I would have done here, be to me\naligement of penance unto my soul\u2019s health. At these words Lionel smote\nhim so sore that he bare him to the earth. So he had slain Colgrevance\nhe ran upon his brother as a fiendly man, and gave him such a stroke\nthat he made him stoop. And he that was full of humility prayed him for\nGod\u2019s love to leave this battle: For an it befell, fair brother, that I\nslew you or ye me, we should be dead of that sin. Never God me help but\nif I have on you mercy, an I may have the better hand. Then drew Bors\nhis sword, all weeping, and said: Fair brother, God knoweth mine\nintent. Ah, fair brother, ye have done full evil this day to slay such\nan holy priest the which never trespassed. Also ye have slain a gentle\nknight, and one of our fellows. And well wot ye that I am not afeard of\nyou greatly, but I dread the wrath of God, and this is an unkindly war,\ntherefore God show miracle upon us both. Now God have mercy upon me\nthough I defend my life against my brother: with that Bors lift up his\nhand and would have smitten his brother.\nCHAPTER XVII. How there came a voice which charged Sir Bors to touch\nhim not, and of a cloud that came between them.\nAnd then he heard a voice that said: Flee Bors, and touch him not, or\nelse thou shalt slay him. Right so alighted a cloud betwixt them in\nlikeness of a fire and a marvellous flame, that both their two shields\nbrent. Then were they sore afraid, that they fell both to the earth,\nand lay there a great while in a swoon. And when they came to themself,\nBors saw that his brother had no harm; then he held up both his hands,\nfor he dread God had taken vengeance upon him. With that he heard a\nvoice say: Bors, go hence, and bear thy brother no longer fellowship,\nbut take thy way anon right to the sea, for Sir Percivale abideth thee\nthere. Then he said to his brother: Fair sweet brother, forgive me for\nGod\u2019s love all that I have trespassed unto you. Then he answered: God\nforgive it thee and I do gladly.\nSo Sir Bors departed from him and rode the next way to the sea. And at\nthe last by fortune he came to an abbey which was nigh the sea. That\nnight Bors rested him there; and in his sleep there came a voice to him\nand bade him go to the sea. Then he stert up and made a sign of the\ncross in the midst of his forehead, and took his harness, and made\nready his horse, and mounted upon him; and at a broken wall he rode\nout, and rode so long till that he came to the sea. And on the strand\nhe found a ship covered all with white samite, and he alighted, and\nbetook him to Jesu Christ. And as soon as he entered into the ship, the\nship departed into the sea, and went so fast that him seemed the ship\nwent flying, but it was soon dark so that he might know no man, and so\nhe slept till it was day. Then he awaked, and saw in midst of the ship\na knight lie all armed save his helm. Then knew he that it was Sir\nPercivale of Wales, and then he made of him right great joy; but Sir\nPercivale was abashed of him, and he asked him what he was. Ah, fair\nsir, said Bors, know ye me not? Certes, said he, I marvel how ye came\nhither, but if Our Lord brought ye hither Himself. Then Sir Bors smiled\nand did off his helm. Then Percivale knew him, and either made great\njoy of other, that it was marvel to hear. Then Bors told him how he\ncame into the ship, and by whose admonishment; and either told other of\ntheir temptations, as ye have heard to-forehand. So went they downward\nin the sea, one while backward, another while forward, and everych\ncomforted other, and oft were in their prayers. Then said Sir\nPercivale: We lack nothing but Galahad, the good knight.\n_And thus endeth the sixteenth book, which is of Sir Gawaine, Ector de\nMaris, and Sir Bors de Ganis, and Sir Percivale. And here followeth the\nseven-teenth book, which is of the noble knight Sir Galahad._\nBOOK XVII.\nCHAPTER I. How Sir Galahad fought at a tournament, and how he was known\nof Sir Gawaine and Sir Ector de Maris.\nNow saith this story, when Galahad had rescued Percivale from the\ntwenty knights, he yede tho into a waste forest wherein he rode many\njourneys; and he found many adventures the which he brought to an end,\nwhereof the story maketh here no mention. Then he took his way to the\nsea on a day, and it befell as he passed by a castle where was a wonder\ntournament, but they without had done so much that they within were put\nto the worse, yet were they within good knights enough. When Galahad\nsaw that those within were at so great a mischief that men slew them at\nthe entry of the castle, then he thought to help them, and put a spear\nforth and smote the first that he fell to the earth, and the spear\nbrake to pieces. Then he drew his sword and smote thereas they were\nthickest, and so he did wonderful deeds of arms that all they\nmarvelled. Then it happed that Gawaine and Sir Ector de Maris were with\nthe knights without. But when they espied the white shield with the red\ncross the one said to the other: Yonder is the good knight, Sir\nGalahad, the haut prince: now he should be a great fool which should\nmeet with him to fight. So by adventure he came by Sir Gawaine, and he\nsmote him so hard that he clave his helm and the coif of iron unto his\nhead, so that Gawaine fell to the earth; but the stroke was so great\nthat it slanted down to the earth and carved the horse\u2019s shoulder in\ntwo.\nWhen Ector saw Gawaine down he drew him aside, and thought it no wisdom\nfor to abide him, and also for natural love, that he was his uncle.\nThus through his great hardiness he beat aback all the knights without.\nAnd then they within came out and chased them all about. But when\nGalahad saw there would none turn again he stole away privily, so that\nnone wist where he was become. Now by my head, said Gawaine to Ector,\nnow are the wonders true that were said of Launcelot du Lake, that the\nsword which stuck in the stone should give me such a buffet that I\nwould not have it for the best castle in this world; and soothly now it\nis proved true, for never ere had I such a stroke of man\u2019s hand. Sir,\nsaid Ector, meseemeth your quest is done. And yours is not done, said\nGawaine, but mine is done, I shall seek no further. Then Gawaine was\nborne into a castle and unarmed him, and laid him in a rich bed, and a\nleech found that he might live, and to be whole within a month. Thus\nGawaine and Ector abode together, for Sir Ector would not away till\nGawaine were whole.\nAnd the good knight, Galahad, rode so long till he came that night to\nthe Castle of Carboneck; and it befell him thus that he was benighted\nin an hermitage. So the good man was fain when he saw he was a\nknight-errant. Tho when they were at rest there came a gentlewoman\nknocking at the door, and called Galahad, and so the good man came to\nthe door to wit what she would. Then she called the hermit: Sir Ulfin,\nI am a gentlewoman that would speak with the knight which is with you.\nThen the good man awaked Galahad, and bade him: Arise, and speak with a\ngentlewoman that seemeth hath great need of you. Then Galahad went to\nher and asked her what she would. Galahad, said she, I will that ye arm\nyou, and mount upon your horse and follow me, for I shall show you\nwithin these three days the highest adventure that ever any knight saw.\nAnon Galahad armed him, and took his horse, and commended him to God,\nand bade the gentlewoman go, and he would follow thereas she liked.\nCHAPTER II. How Sir Galahad rode with a damosel, and came to the ship\nwhereas Sir Bors and Sir Percivale were in.\nSo she rode as fast as her palfrey might bear her, till that she came\nto the sea, the which was called Collibe. And at the night they came\nunto a castle in a valley, closed with a running water, and with strong\nwalls and high; and so she entered into the castle with Galahad, and\nthere had he great cheer, for the lady of that castle was the damosel\u2019s\nlady. So when he was unarmed, then said the damosel: Madam, shall we\nabide here all this day? Nay, said she, but till he hath dined and till\nhe hath slept a little. So he ate and slept a while till that the maid\ncalled him, and armed him by torchlight. And when the maid was horsed\nand he both, the lady took Galahad a fair child and rich; and so they\ndeparted from the castle till they came to the seaside; and there they\nfound the ship where Bors and Percivale were in, the which cried on the\nship\u2019s board: Sir Galahad, ye be welcome, we have abiden you long. And\nwhen he heard them he asked them what they were. Sir, said she, leave\nyour horse here, and I shall leave mine; and took their saddles and\ntheir bridles with them, and made a cross on them, and so entered into\nthe ship. And the two knights received them both with great joy, and\neverych knew other; and so the wind arose, and drove them through the\nsea in a marvellous pace. And within a while it dawned.\nThen did Galahad off his helm and his sword, and asked of his fellows\nfrom whence came that fair ship. Truly, said they, ye wot as well as\nwe, but of God\u2019s grace; and then they told everych to other of all\ntheir hard adventures, and of their great temptations. Truly, said\nGalahad, ye are much bounden to God, for ye have escaped great\nadventures; and had not the gentlewoman been I had not come here, for\nas for you I weened never to have found you in these strange countries.\nAh Galahad, said Bors, if Launcelot, your father, were here then were\nwe well at ease, for then meseemed we failed nothing. That may not be,\nsaid Galahad, but if it pleased Our Lord.\nBy then the ship went from the land of Logris, and by adventure it\narrived up betwixt two rocks passing great and marvellous; but there\nthey might not land, for there was a swallow of the sea, save there was\nanother ship, and upon it they might go without danger. Go we thither,\nsaid the gentlewoman, and there shall we see adventures, for so is Our\nLord\u2019s will. And when they came thither they found the ship rich\nenough, but they found neither man nor woman therein. But they found in\nthe end of the ship two fair letters written, which said a dreadful\nword and a marvellous: Thou man, which shall enter into this ship,\nbeware thou be in steadfast belief, for I am Faith, and therefore\nbeware how thou enterest, for an thou fail I shall not help thee. Then\nsaid the gentlewoman: Percivale, wot ye what I am? Certes, said he,\nnay, to my witting. Wit ye well, said she, that I am thy sister, which\nam daughter of King Pellinore, and therefore wit ye well ye are the man\nin the world that I most love; and if ye be not in perfect belief of\nJesu Christ enter not in no manner of wise, for then should ye perish\nthe ship, for he is so perfect he will suffer no sinner in him. When\nPercivale understood that she was his very sister he was inwardly glad,\nand said: Fair sister, I shall enter therein, for if I be a miscreature\nor an untrue knight there shall I perish.\nCHAPTER III. How Sir Galahad entered into the ship, and of a fair bed\ntherein, with other marvellous things, and of a sword.\nIn the meanwhile Galahad blessed him, and entered therein; and then\nnext the gentlewoman, and then Sir Bors and Sir Percivale. And when\nthey were in, it was so marvellous fair and rich that they marvelled;\nand in midst of the ship was a fair bed, and Galahad went thereto, and\nfound there a crown of silk. And at the feet was a sword, rich and\nfair, and it was drawn out of the sheath half a foot and more; and the\nsword was of divers fashions, and the pommel was of stone, and there\nwas in him all manner of colours that any man might find, and everych\nof the colours had divers virtues; and the scales of the haft were of\ntwo ribs of divers beasts, the one beast was a serpent which was\nconversant in Calidone, and is called the Serpent of the fiend; and the\nbone of him is of such a virtue that there is no hand that handleth him\nshall never be weary nor hurt. And the other beast is a fish which is\nnot right great, and haunteth the flood of Euphrates; and that fish is\ncalled Ertanax, and his bones be of such a manner of kind that who that\nhandleth them shall have so much will that he shall never be weary, and\nhe shall not think on joy nor sorrow that he hath had but only that\nthing that he beholdeth before him. And as for this sword there shall\nnever man begrip him at the handles but one; but he shall pass all\nother. In the name of God, said Percivale, I shall assay to handle it.\nSo he set his hand to the sword, but he might not begrip it. By my\nfaith, said he, now have I failed. Bors set his hand thereto and\nfailed.\nThen Galahad beheld the sword and saw letters like blood that said: Let\nsee who shall assay to draw me out of my sheath, but if he be more\nhardier than any other; and who that draweth me, wit ye well that he\nshall never fail of shame of his body, or to be wounded to the death.\nBy my faith, said Galahad, I would draw this sword out of the sheath,\nbut the offending is so great that I shall not set my hand thereto. Now\nsirs, said the gentlewoman, wit ye well that the drawing of this sword\nis warned to all men save all only to you. Also this ship arrived in\nthe realm of Logris; and that time was deadly war between King Labor,\nwhich was father unto the maimed king, and King Hurlame, which was a\nSaracen. But then was he newly christened, so that men held him\nafterward one of the wittiest men of the world. And so upon a day it\nbefell that King Labor and King Hurlame had assembled their folk upon\nthe sea where this ship was arrived; and there King Hurlame was\ndiscomfit, and his men slain; and he was afeard to be dead, and fled to\nhis ship, and there found this sword and drew it, and came out and\nfound King Labor, the man in the world of all Christendom in whom was\nthen the greatest faith. And when King Hurlame saw King Labor he\ndressed this sword, and smote him upon the helm so hard that he clave\nhim and his horse to the earth with the first stroke of his sword. And\nit was in the realm of Logris; and so befell great pestilence and great\nharm to both realms. For sithen increased neither corn, nor grass, nor\nwell-nigh no fruit, nor in the water was no fish; wherefore men call it\nthe lands of the two marches, the waste land, for that dolorous stroke.\nAnd when King Hurlame saw this sword so carving, he turned again to\nfetch the scabbard, and so came into this ship and entered, and put up\nthe sword in the sheath. And as soon as he had done it he fell down\ndead afore the bed. Thus was the sword proved, that none ne drew it but\nhe were dead or maimed. So lay he there till a maiden came into the\nship and cast him out, for there was no man so hardy of the world to\nenter into that ship for the defence.\nCHAPTER IV. Of the marvels of the sword and of the scabbard.\nAnd then beheld they the scabbard, it seemed to be of a serpent\u2019s skin,\nand thereon were letters of gold and silver. And the girdle was but\npoorly to come to, and not able to sustain such a rich sword. And the\nletters said: He which shall wield me sought to be more harder than any\nother, if he bear me as truly as me ought to be borne. For the body of\nhim which I ought to hang by, he shall not be shamed in no place while\nhe is girt with this girdle, nor never none be so hardy to do away this\ngirdle; for it ought not be done away but by the hands of a maid, and\nthat she be a king\u2019s daughter and queen\u2019s, and she must be a maid all\nthe days of her life, both in will and in deed. And if she break her\nvirginity she shall die the most villainous death that ever died any\nwoman. Sir, said Percivale, turn this sword that we may see what is on\nthe other side. And it was red as blood, with black letters as any\ncoal, which said: He that shall praise me most, most shall he find me\nto blame at a great need; and to whom I should be most debonair shall I\nbe most felon, and that shall be at one time.\nFair brother, said she to Percivale, it befell after a forty year after\nthe passion of Jesu Christ that Nacien, the brother-in-law of King\nMordrains, was borne into a town more than fourteen days\u2019 journey from\nhis country, by the commandment of Our Lord, into an isle, into the\nparts of the West, that men cleped the Isle of Turnance. So befell it\nthat he found this ship at the entry of a rock, and he found the bed\nand this sword as we have heard now. Not for then he had not so much\nhardiness to draw it; and there he dwelled an eight days, and at the\nninth day there fell a great wind which departed him out of the isle,\nand brought him to another isle by a rock, and there he found the\ngreatest giant that ever man might see. Therewith came that horrible\ngiant to slay him; and then he looked about him and might not flee, and\nhe had nothing to defend him with. So he ran to his sword, and when he\nsaw it naked he praised it much, and then he shook it, and therewith he\nbrake it in the midst. Ah, said Nacien, the thing that I most praised\nought I now most to blame, and therewith he threw the pieces of his\nsword over his bed. And after he leapt over the board to fight with the\ngiant, and slew him.\nAnd anon he entered into the ship again, and the wind arose, and drove\nhim through the sea, that by adventure he came to another ship where\nKing Mordrains was, which had been tempted full evil with a fiend in\nthe Port of Perilous Rock. And when that one saw the other they made\ngreat joy of other, and either told other of their adventure, and how\nthe sword failed him at his most need. When Mordrains saw the sword he\npraised it much: But the breaking was not to do but by wickedness of\nthy selfward, for thou art in some sin. And there he took the sword,\nand set the pieces together, and they soldered as fair as ever they\nwere to-fore; and there put he the sword in the sheath, and laid it\ndown on the bed. Then heard they a voice that said: Go out of this ship\na little while, and enter into the other, for dread ye fall in deadly\nsin, for and ye be found in deadly sin ye may not escape but perish:\nand so they went into the other ship. And as Nacien went over the board\nhe was smitten with a sword on the right foot, that he fell down\nnoseling to the ship\u2019s board; and therewith he said: O God, how am I\nhurt. And then there came a voice and said: Take thou that for thy\nforfeit that thou didst in drawing of this sword, therefore thou\nreceivest a wound, for thou were never worthy to handle it, as the\nwriting maketh mention. In the name of God, said Galahad, ye are right\nwise of these works.\nCHAPTER V. How King Pelles was smitten through both thighs because he\ndrew the sword, and other marvellous histories.\nSir, said she, there was a king that hight Pelles, the maimed king. And\nwhile he might ride he supported much Christendom and Holy Church. So\nupon a day he hunted in a wood of his which lasted unto the sea; and at\nthe last he lost his hounds and his knights save only one: and there he\nand his knight went till that they came toward Ireland, and there he\nfound the ship. And when he saw the letters and understood them, yet he\nentered, for he was right perfect of his life, but his knight had none\nhardiness to enter; and there found he this sword, and drew it out as\nmuch as ye may see. So therewith entered a spear wherewith he was\nsmitten him through both the thighs, and never sith might he be healed,\nnor nought shall to-fore we come to him. Thus, said she, was not King\nPelles, your grandsire, maimed for his hardiness? In the name of God,\ndamosel, said Galahad.\nSo they went toward the bed to behold all about it, and above the head\nthere hung two swords. Also there were two spindles which were as white\nas any snow, and other that were as red as blood, and other above green\nas any emerald: of these three colours were the spindles, and of\nnatural colour within, and without any painting. These spindles, said\nthe damosel, were when sinful Eve came to gather fruit, for which Adam\nand she were put out of paradise, she took with her the bough on which\nthe apple hung on. Then perceived she that the branch was fair and\ngreen, and she remembered her the loss which came from the tree. Then\nshe thought to keep the branch as long as she might. And for she had no\ncoffer to keep it in, she put it in the earth. So by the will of Our\nLord the branch grew to a great tree within a little while, and was as\nwhite as any snow, branches, boughs, and leaves: that was a token a\nmaiden planted it. But after God came to Adam, and bade him know his\nwife fleshly as nature required. So lay Adam with his wife under the\nsame tree; and anon the tree which was white was full green as any\ngrass, and all that came out of it; and in the same time that they\nmedled together there was Abel begotten: thus was the tree long of\ngreen colour. And so it befell many days after, under the same tree\nCaym slew Abel, whereof befell great marvel. For anon as Abel had\nreceived the death under the green tree, it lost the green colour and\nbecame red; and that was in tokening of the blood. And anon all the\nplants died thereof, but the tree grew and waxed marvellously fair, and\nit was the fairest tree and the most delectable that any man might\nbehold and see; and so died the plants that grew out of it to-fore that\nAbel was slain under it. So long dured the tree till that Solomon, King\nDavid\u2019s son, reigned, and held the land after his father. This Solomon\nwas wise and knew all the virtues of stones and trees, and so he knew\nthe course of the stars, and many other divers things. This Solomon had\nan evil wife, wherethrough he weened that there had been no good woman,\nand so he despised them in his books. So answered a voice him once:\nSolomon, if heaviness come to a man by a woman, ne reck thou never; for\nyet shall there come a woman whereof there shall come greater joy to\nman an hundred times more than this heaviness giveth sorrow; and that\nwoman shall be born of thy lineage. Tho when Solomon heard these words\nhe held himself but a fool, and the truth he perceived by old books.\nAlso the Holy Ghost showed him the coming of the glorious Virgin Mary.\nThen asked he of the voice, if it should be in the yerde of his\nlineage. Nay, said the voice, but there shall come a man which shall be\na maid, and the last of your blood, and he shall be as good a knight as\nDuke Josua, thy brother-in-law.\nCHAPTER VI. How Solomon took David\u2019s sword by the counsel of his wife,\nand of other matters marvellous.\nNow have I certified thee of that thou stoodest in doubt. Then was\nSolomon glad that there should come any such of his lineage; but ever\nhe marvelled and studied who that should be, and what his name might\nbe. His wife perceived that he studied, and thought she would know it\nat some season; and so she waited her time, and asked of him the cause\nof his studying, and there he told her altogether how the voice told\nhim. Well, said she, I shall let make a ship of the best wood and most\ndurable that men may find. So Solomon sent for all the carpenters of\nthe land, and the best. And when they had made the ship the lady said\nto Solomon: Sir, said she, since it is so that this knight ought to\npass all knights of chivalry which have been to-fore him and shall come\nafter him, moreover I shall tell you, said she, ye shall go into Our\nLord\u2019s temple, where is King David\u2019s sword, your father, the which is\nthe marvelloust and the sharpest that ever was taken in any knight\u2019s\nhand. Therefore take that, and take off the pommel, and thereto make ye\na pommel of precious stones, that it be so subtly made that no man\nperceive it but that they be all one; and after make there an hilt so\nmarvellously and wonderly that no man may know it; and after make a\nmarvellous sheath. And when ye have made all this I shall let make a\ngirdle thereto, such as shall please me.\nAll this King Solomon did let make as she devised, both the ship and\nall the remnant. And when the ship was ready in the sea to sail, the\nlady let make a great bed and marvellous rich, and set her upon the\nbed\u2019s head, covered with silk, and laid the sword at the feet, and the\ngirdles were of hemp, and therewith the king was angry. Sir, wit ye\nwell, said she, that I have none so high a thing which were worthy to\nsustain so high a sword, and a maid shall bring other knights thereto,\nbut I wot not when it shall be, nor what time. And there she let make a\ncovering to the ship, of cloth of silk that should never rot for no\nmanner of weather. Yet went that lady and made a carpenter to come to\nthe tree which Abel was slain under. Now, said she, carve me out of\nthis tree as much wood as will make me a spindle. Ah madam, said he,\nthis is the tree the which our first mother planted. Do it, said she,\nor else I shall destroy thee. Anon as he began to work there came out\ndrops of blood; and then would he have left, but she would not suffer\nhim, and so he took away as much wood as might make a spindle: and so\nshe made him to take as much of the green tree and of the white tree.\nAnd when these three spindles were shapen she made them to be fastened\nupon the selar of the bed. When Solomon saw this, he said to his wife:\nYe have done marvellously, for though all the world were here right\nnow, he could not devise wherefore all this was made, but Our Lord\nHimself; and thou that hast done it wottest not what it shall betoken.\nNow let it be, said she, for ye shall hear tidings sooner than ye ween.\nNow shall ye hear a wonderful tale of King Solomon and his wife.\nCHAPTER VII. A wonderful tale of King Solomon and his wife.\nThat night lay Solomon before the ship with little fellowship. And when\nhe was asleep him thought there came from heaven a great company of\nangels, and alighted into the ship, and took water which was brought by\nan angel, in a vessel of silver, and sprent all the ship. And after he\ncame to the sword, and drew letters on the hilt. And after went to the\nship\u2019s board, and wrote there other letters which said: Thou man that\nwilt enter within me, beware that thou be full within the faith, for I\nne am but Faith and Belief. When Solomon espied these letters he was\nabashed, so that he durst not enter, and so drew him aback; and the\nship was anon shoven in the sea, and he went so fast that he lost sight\nof him within a little while. And then a little voice said: Solomon,\nthe last knight of thy lineage shall rest in this bed. Then went\nSolomon and awaked his wife, and told her of the adventures of the\nship.\nNow saith the history that a great while the three fellows beheld the\nbed and the three spindles. Then they were at certain that they were of\nnatural colours without painting. Then they lift up a cloth which was\nabove the ground, and there found a rich purse by seeming. And\nPercivale took it, and found therein a writ and so he read it, and\ndevised the manner of the spindles and of the ship, whence it came, and\nby whom it was made. Now, said Galahad, where shall we find the\ngentlewoman that shall make new girdles to the sword? Fair sir, said\nPercivale\u2019s sister, dismay you not, for by the leave of God I shall let\nmake a girdle to the sword, such one as shall long thereto. And then\nshe opened a box, and took out girdles which were seemly wrought with\ngolden threads, and upon that were set full precious stones, and a rich\nbuckle of gold. Lo, lords, said she, here is a girdle that ought to be\nset about the sword. And wit ye well the greatest part of this girdle\nwas made of my hair, which I loved well while that I was a woman of the\nworld. But as soon as I wist that this adventure was ordained me I\nclipped off my hair, and made this girdle in the name of God. Ye be\nwell found, said Sir Bors, for certes ye have put us out of great pain,\nwherein we should have entered ne had your tidings been.\nThen went the gentlewoman and set it on the girdle of the sword. Now,\nsaid the fellowship, what is the name of the sword, and what shall we\ncall it? Truly, said she, the name of the sword is the Sword with the\nStrange Girdles; and the sheath, Mover of Blood; for no man that hath\nblood in him ne shall never see the one part of the sheath which was\nmade of the Tree of Life. Then they said to Galahad: In the name of\nJesu Christ, and pray you that ye gird you with this sword which hath\nbeen desired so much in the realm of Logris. Now let me begin, said\nGalahad, to grip this sword for to give you courage; but wit ye well it\nlongeth no more to me than it doth to you. And then he gripped about it\nwith his fingers a great deal; and then she girt him about the middle\nwith the sword. Now reck I not though I die, for now I hold me one of\nthe blessed maidens of the world, which hath made the worthiest knight\nof the world. Damosel, said Galahad, ye have done so much that I shall\nbe your knight all the days of my life.\nThen they went from that ship, and went to the other. And anon the wind\ndrove them into the sea a great pace, but they had no victuals: but it\nbefell that they came on the morn to a castle that men call Carteloise,\nthat was in the marches of Scotland. And when they had passed the port,\nthe gentlewoman said: Lords, here be men arriven that, an they wist\nthat ye were of King Arthur\u2019s court, ye should be assailed anon.\nDamosel, said Galahad, He that cast us out of the rock shall deliver us\nfrom them.\nCHAPTER VIII. How Galahad and his fellows came to a castle, and how\nthey were fought withal, and how they slew their adversaries, and other\nmatters.\nSo it befell as they spoke thus there came a squire by them, and asked\nwhat they were; and they said they were of King Arthur\u2019s house. Is that\nsooth? said he. Now by my head, said he, ye be ill arrayed; and then\nturned he again unto the cliff fortress. And within a while they heard\nan horn blow. Then a gentlewoman came to them, and asked them of whence\nthey were; and they told her. Fair lords, said she, for God\u2019s love turn\nagain if ye may, for ye be come unto your death. Nay, they said, we\nwill not turn again, for He shall help us in whose service we be\nentered in. Then as they stood talking there came knights well armed,\nand bade them yield them or else to die. That yielding, said they,\nshall be noyous to you. And therewith they let their horses run, and\nSir Percivale smote the foremost to the earth, and took his horse, and\nmounted thereupon, and the same did Galahad. Also Bors served another\nso, for they had no horses in that country, for they left their horses\nwhen they took their ship in other countries. And so when they were\nhorsed then began they to set upon them; and they of the castle fled\ninto the strong fortress, and the three knights after them into the\ncastle, and so alighted on foot, and with their swords slew them down,\nand gat into the hall.\nThen when they beheld the great multitude of people that they had\nslain, they held themself great sinners. Certes, said Bors, I ween an\nGod had loved them that we should not have had power to have slain them\nthus. But they have done so much against Our Lord that He would not\nsuffer them to reign no longer. Say ye not so, said Galahad, for if\nthey misdid against God, the vengeance is not ours, but to Him which\nhath power thereof.\nSo came there out of a chamber a good man which was a priest, and bare\nGod\u2019s body in a cup. And when he saw them which lay dead in the hall he\nwas all abashed; and Galahad did off his helm and kneeled down, and so\ndid his two fellows. Sir, said they, have ye no dread of us, for we be\nof King Arthur\u2019s court. Then asked the good man how they were slain so\nsuddenly, and they told it him. Truly, said the good man, an ye might\nlive as long as the world might endure, ne might ye have done so great\nan alms-deed as this. Sir, said Galahad, I repent me much, inasmuch as\nthey were christened. Nay, repent you not, said he, for they were not\nchristened, and I shall tell you how that I wot of this castle. Here\nwas Lord Earl Hernox not but one year, and he had three sons, good\nknights of arms, and a daughter, the fairest gentlewoman that men knew.\nSo those three knights loved their sister so sore that they brent in\nlove, and so they lay by her, maugre her head. And for she cried to her\nfather they slew her, and took their father and put him in prison, and\nwounded him nigh to the death, but a cousin of hers rescued him. And\nthen did they great untruth: they slew clerks and priests, and made\nbeat down chapels, that Our Lord\u2019s service might not be served nor\nsaid. And this same day her father sent to me for to be confessed and\nhouseled; but such shame had never man as I had this day with the three\nbrethren, but the earl bade me suffer, for he said they should not long\nendure, for three servants of Our Lord should destroy them, and now it\nis brought to an end. And by this may ye wit that Our Lord is not\ndispleased with your deeds. Certes, said Galahad, an it had not pleased\nOur Lord, never should we have slain so many men in so little a while.\nAnd then they brought the Earl Hernox out of prison into the midst of\nthe hall, that knew Galahad anon, and yet he saw him never afore but by\nrevelation of Our Lord.\nCHAPTER IX. How the three knights, with Percivale\u2019s sister, came unto\nthe same forest, and of an hart and four lions, and other things.\nThen began he to weep right tenderly, and said: Long have I abiden your\ncoming, but for God\u2019s love hold me in your arms, that my soul may\ndepart out of my body in so good a man\u2019s arms as ye be. Gladly, said\nGalahad. And then one said on high, that all heard: Galahad, well hast\nthou avenged me on God\u2019s enemies. Now behoveth thee to go to the Maimed\nKing as soon as thou mayest, for he shall receive by thee health which\nhe hath abiden so long. And therewith the soul departed from the body,\nand Galahad made him to be buried as him ought to be.\nRight so departed the three knights, and Percivale\u2019s sister with them.\nAnd so they came into a waste forest, and there they saw afore them a\nwhite hart which four lions led. Then they took them to assent for to\nfollow after for to know whither they repaired; and so they rode after\na great pace till that they came to a valley, and thereby was an\nhermitage where a good man dwelled, and the hart and the lions entered\nalso. So when they saw all this they turned to the chapel, and saw the\ngood man in a religious weed and in the armour of Our Lord, for he\nwould sing mass of the Holy Ghost; and so they entered in and heard\nmass. And at the secrets of the mass they three saw the hart become a\nman, the which marvelled them, and set him upon the altar in a rich\nsiege; and saw the four lions were changed, the one to the form of a\nman, the other to the form of a lion, and the third to an eagle, and\nthe fourth was changed unto an ox. Then took they their siege where the\nhart sat, and went out through a glass window, and there was nothing\nperished nor broken; and they heard a voice say: In such a manner\nentered the Son of God in the womb of a maid Mary, whose virginity ne\nwas perished ne hurt. And when they heard these words they fell down to\nthe earth and were astonied; and therewith was a great clearness.\nAnd when they were come to theirself again they went to the good man\nand prayed him that he would say them truth. What thing have ye seen?\nsaid he. And they told him all that they had seen. Ah lords, said he,\nye be welcome; now wot I well ye be the good knights the which shall\nbring the Sangreal to an end; for ye be they unto whom Our Lord shall\nshew great secrets. And well ought Our Lord be signified to an hart,\nfor the hart when he is old he waxeth young again in his white skin.\nRight so cometh again Our Lord from death to life, for He lost earthly\nflesh that was the deadly flesh, which He had taken in the womb of the\nblessed Virgin Mary; and for that cause appeared Our Lord as a white\nhart without spot. And the four that were with Him is to understand the\nfour evangelists which set in writing a part of Jesu Christ\u2019s deeds\nthat He did sometime when He was among you an earthly man; for wit ye\nwell never erst ne might no knight know the truth, for ofttimes or this\nOur Lord showed Him unto good men and unto good knights, in likeness of\nan hart, but I suppose from henceforth ye shall see no more. And then\nthey joyed much, and dwelled there all that day. And upon the morrow\nwhen they had heard mass they departed and commended the good man to\nGod: and so they came to a castle and passed by. So there came a knight\narmed after them and said: Lords, hark what I shall say to you.\nCHAPTER X. How they were desired of a strange custom, the which they\nwould not obey; wherefore they fought and slew many knights.\nThis gentlewoman that ye lead with you is a maid? Sir, said she, a maid\nI am. Then he took her by the bridle and said: By the Holy Cross, ye\nshall not escape me to-fore ye have yolden the custom of this castle.\nLet her go, said Percivale, ye be not wise, for a maid in what place\nshe cometh is free. So in the meanwhile there came out a ten or twelve\nknights armed, out of the castle, and with them came gentlewomen which\nheld a dish of silver. And then they said: This gentlewoman must yield\nus the custom of this castle. Sir, said a knight, what maid passeth\nhereby shall give this dish full of blood of her right arm. Blame have\nye, said Galahad, that brought up such customs, and so God me save, I\nensure you of this gentlewoman ye shall fail while that I live. So God\nme help, said Percivale, I had liefer be slain. And I also, said Sir\nBors. By my troth, said the knight, then shall ye die, for ye may not\nendure against us though ye were the best knights of the world.\nThen let they run each to other, and the three fellows beat the ten\nknights, and then set their hands to their swords and beat them down\nand slew them. Then there came out of the castle a three score knights\narmed. Fair lords, said the three fellows, have mercy on yourself and\nhave not ado with us. Nay, fair lords, said the knights of the castle,\nwe counsel you to withdraw you, for ye be the best knights of the\nworld, and therefore do no more, for ye have done enough. We will let\nyou go with this harm, but we must needs have the custom. Certes, said\nGalahad, for nought speak ye. Well, said they, will ye die? We be not\nyet come thereto, said Galahad. Then began they to meddle together, and\nGalahad, with the strange girdles, drew his sword, and smote on the\nright hand and on the left hand, and slew what that ever abode him, and\ndid such marvels that there was none that saw him but weened he had\nbeen none earthly man, but a monster. And his two fellows halp him\npassing well, and so they held the journey everych in like hard till it\nwas night: then must they needs depart.\nSo came in a good knight, and said to the three fellows: If ye will\ncome in to-night and take such harbour as here is ye shall be right\nwelcome, and we shall ensure you by the faith of our bodies, and as we\nbe true knights, to leave you in such estate to-morrow as we find you,\nwithout any falsehood. And as soon as ye know of the custom we dare say\nye will accord therefore. For God\u2019s love, said the gentlewoman, go\nthither and spare not for me. Go we, said Galahad; and so they entered\ninto the chapel. And when they were alighted they made great joy of\nthem. So within a while the three knights asked the custom of the\ncastle and wherefore it was. What it is, said they, we will say you\nsooth.\nCHAPTER XI. How Sir Percivale\u2019s sister bled a dish full of blood for to\nheal a lady, wherefore she died; and how that the body was put in a\nship.\nThere is in this castle a gentlewoman which we and this castle is hers,\nand many other. So it befell many years agone there fell upon her a\nmalady; and when she had lain a great while she fell unto a measle, and\nof no leech she could have no remedy. But at the last an old man said\nan she might have a dish full of blood of a maid and a clean virgin in\nwill and in work, and a king\u2019s daughter, that blood should be her\nhealth, and for to anoint her withal; and for this thing was this\ncustom made. Now, said Percivale\u2019s sister, fair knights, I see well\nthat this gentlewoman is but dead. Certes, said Galahad, an ye bleed so\nmuch ye may die. Truly, said she, an I die for to heal her I shall get\nme great worship and soul\u2019s health, and worship to my lineage, and\nbetter is one harm than twain. And therefore there shall be no more\nbattle, but to-morn I shall yield you your custom of this castle. And\nthen there was great joy more than there was to-fore, for else had\nthere been mortal war upon the morn; notwithstanding she would none\nother, whether they wold or nold.\nThat night were the three fellows eased with the best; and on the morn\nthey heard mass, and Sir Percivale\u2019s sister bade bring forth the sick\nlady. So she was, the which was evil at ease. Then said she: Who shall\nlet me blood? So one came forth and let her blood, and she bled so much\nthat the dish was full. Then she lift up her hand and blessed her; and\nthen she said to the lady: Madam, I am come to the death for to make\nyou whole, for God\u2019s love pray for me. With that she fell in a swoon.\nThen Galahad and his two fellows start up to her, and lift her up and\nstaunched her, but she had bled so much that she might not live. Then\nshe said when she was awaked: Fair brother Percivale, I die for the\nhealing of this lady, so I require you that ye bury me not in this\ncountry, but as soon as I am dead put me in a boat at the next haven,\nand let me go as adventure will lead me; and as soon as ye three come\nto the City of Sarras, there to enchieve the Holy Grail, ye shall find\nme under a tower arrived, and there bury me in the spiritual place; for\nI say you so much, there Galahad shall be buried, and ye also, in the\nsame place.\nThen Percivale understood these words, and granted it her, weeping. And\nthen said a voice: Lords and fellows, to-morrow at the hour of prime ye\nthree shall depart everych from other, till the adventure bring you to\nthe Maimed King. Then asked she her Saviour; and as soon as she had\nreceived it the soul departed from the body. So the same day was the\nlady healed, when she was anointed withal. Then Sir Percivale made a\nletter of all that she had holpen them as in strange adventures, and\nput it in her right hand, and so laid her in a barge, and covered it\nwith black silk; and so the wind arose, and drove the barge from the\nland, and all knights beheld it till it was out of their sight. Then\nthey drew all to the castle, and so forthwith there fell a sudden\ntempest and a thunder, lightning, and rain, as all the earth would have\nbroken. So half the castle turned up-so-down. So it passed evensong or\nthe tempest was ceased.\nThen they saw afore them a knight armed and wounded hard in the body\nand in the head, that said: O God, succour me for now it is need. After\nthis knight came another knight and a dwarf, which cried to them afar:\nStand, ye may not escape. Then the wounded knight held up his hands to\nGod that he should not die in such tribulation. Truly, said Galahad, I\nshall succour him for His sake that he calleth upon. Sir, said Bors, I\nshall do it, for it is not for you, for he is but one knight. Sir, said\nhe, I grant. So Sir Bors took his horse, and commended him to God, and\nrode after, to rescue the wounded knight. Now turn we to the two\nfellows.\nCHAPTER XII. How Galahad and Percivale found in a castle many tombs of\nmaidens that had bled to death.\nNow saith the story that all night Galahad and Percivale were in a\nchapel in their prayers, for to save Sir Bors. So on the morrow they\ndressed them in their harness toward the castle, to wit what was fallen\nof them therein. And when they came there they found neither man nor\nwoman that he ne was dead by the vengeance of Our Lord. With that they\nheard a voice that said: This vengeance is for blood-shedding of\nmaidens. Also they found at the end of the chapel a churchyard, and\ntherein might they see a three score fair tombs, and that place was so\nfair and so delectable that it seemed them there had been none tempest,\nfor there lay the bodies of all the good maidens which were martyred\nfor the sick lady\u2019s sake. Also they found the names of everych, and of\nwhat blood they were come, and all were of kings\u2019 blood, and twelve of\nthem were kings\u2019 daughters. Then they departed and went into a forest.\nNow, said Percivale unto Galahad, we must depart, so pray we Our Lord\nthat we may meet together in short time: then they did off their helms\nand kissed together, and wept at their departing.\nCHAPTER XIII. How Sir Launcelot entered into the ship where Sir\nPercivale\u2019s sister lay dead, and how he met with Sir Galahad, his son.\nNow saith the history, that when Launcelot was come to the water of\nMortoise, as it is rehearsed before, he was in great peril, and so he\nlaid him down and slept, and took the adventure that God would send\nhim. So when he was asleep there came a vision unto him and said:\nLauncelot, arise up and take thine armour, and enter into the first\nship that thou shalt find. And when he heard these words he start up\nand saw great clearness about him. And then he lift up his hand and\nblessed him, and so took his arms and made him ready; and so by\nadventure he came by a strand, and found a ship the which was without\nsail or oar. And as soon as he was within the ship there he felt the\nmost sweetness that ever he felt, and he was fulfilled with all thing\nthat he thought on or desired. Then he said: Fair sweet Father, Jesu\nChrist, I wot not in what joy I am, for this joy passeth all earthly\njoys that ever I was in. And so in this joy he laid him down to the\nship\u2019s board, and slept till day. And when he awoke he found there a\nfair bed, and therein lying a gentlewoman dead, the which was Sir\nPercivale\u2019s sister. And as Launcelot devised her, he espied in her\nright hand a writ, the which he read, the which told him all the\nadventures that ye have heard to-fore, and of what lineage she was\ncome. So with this gentlewoman Sir Launcelot was a month and more. If\nye would ask how he lived, He that fed the people of Israel with manna\nin the desert, so was he fed; for every day when he had said his\nprayers he was sustained with the grace of the Holy Ghost.\nSo on a night he went to play him by the water side, for he was\nsomewhat weary of the ship. And then he listened and heard an horse\ncome, and one riding upon him. And when he came nigh he seemed a\nknight. And so he let him pass, and went thereas the ship was; and\nthere he alighted, and took the saddle and the bridle and put the horse\nfrom him, and went into the ship. And then Launcelot dressed unto him,\nand said: Ye be welcome. And he answered and saluted him again, and\nasked him: What is your name? for much my heart giveth unto you. Truly,\nsaid he, my name is Launcelot du Lake. Sir, said he, then be ye\nwelcome, for ye were the beginner of me in this world. Ah, said he, are\nye Galahad? Yea, forsooth, said he; and so he kneeled down and asked\nhim his blessing, and after took off his helm and kissed him. And there\nwas great joy between them, for there is no tongue can tell the joy\nthat they made either of other, and many a friendly word spoken\nbetween, as kin would, the which is no need here to be rehearsed. And\nthere everych told other of their adventures and marvels that were\nbefallen to them in many journeys sith that they departed from the\ncourt.\nAnon, as Galahad saw the gentlewoman dead in the bed, he knew her well\nenough, and told great worship of her, that she was the best maid\nliving, and it was great pity of her death. But when Launcelot heard\nhow the marvellous sword was gotten, and who made it, and all the\nmarvels rehearsed afore, then he prayed Galahad, his son, that he would\nshow him the sword, and so he did; and anon he kissed the pommel, and\nthe hilt, and the scabbard. Truly, said Launcelot, never erst knew I of\nso high adventures done, and so marvellous and strange. So dwelt\nLauncelot and Galahad within that ship half a year, and served God\ndaily and nightly with all their power; and often they arrived in isles\nfar from folk, where there repaired none but wild beasts, and there\nthey found many strange adventures and perilous, which they brought to\nan end; but for those adventures were with wild beasts, and not in the\nquest of the Sangreal, therefore the tale maketh here no mention\nthereof, for it would be too long to tell of all those adventures that\nbefell them.\nCHAPTER XIV. How a knight brought unto Sir Galahad a horse, and bade\nhim come from his father, Sir Launcelot.\nSo after, on a Monday, it befell that they arrived in the edge of a\nforest to-fore a cross; and then saw they a knight armed all in white,\nand was richly horsed, and led in his right hand a white horse; and so\nhe came to the ship, and saluted the two knights on the High Lord\u2019s\nbehalf, and said: Galahad, sir, ye have been long enough with your\nfather, come out of the ship, and start upon this horse, and go where\nthe adventures shall lead thee in the quest of the Sangreal. Then he\nwent to his father and kissed him sweetly, and said: Fair sweet father,\nI wot not when I shall see you more till I see the body of Jesu Christ.\nI pray you, said Launcelot, pray ye to the High Father that He hold me\nin His service. And so he took his horse, and there they heard a voice\nthat said: Think for to do well, for the one shall never see the other\nbefore the dreadful day of doom. Now, son Galahad, said Launcelot,\nsince we shall depart, and never see other, I pray to the High Father\nto conserve me and you both. Sir, said Galahad, no prayer availeth so\nmuch as yours. And therewith Galahad entered into the forest.\nAnd the wind arose, and drove Launcelot more than a month throughout\nthe sea, where he slept but little, but prayed to God that he might see\nsome tidings of the Sangreal. So it befell on a night, at midnight, he\narrived afore a castle, on the back side, which was rich and fair, and\nthere was a postern opened toward the sea, and was open without any\nkeeping, save two lions kept the entry; and the moon shone clear. Anon\nSir Launcelot heard a voice that said: Launcelot, go out of this ship\nand enter into the castle, where thou shalt see a great part of thy\ndesire. Then he ran to his arms, and so armed him, and so went to the\ngate and saw the lions. Then set he hand to his sword and drew it. Then\nthere came a dwarf suddenly, and smote him on the arm so sore that the\nsword fell out of his hand. Then heard he a voice say: O man of evil\nfaith and poor belief, wherefore trowest thou more on thy harness than\nin thy Maker, for He might more avail thee than thine armour, in whose\nservice that thou art set. Then said Launcelot: Fair Father Jesu\nChrist, I thank thee of Thy great mercy that Thou reprovest me of my\nmisdeed; now see I well that ye hold me for your servant. Then took he\nagain his sword and put it up in his sheath, and made a cross in his\nforehead, and came to the lions, and they made semblaunt to do him\nharm. Notwithstanding he passed by them without hurt, and entered into\nthe castle to the chief fortress, and there were they all at rest. Then\nLauncelot entered in so armed, for he found no gate nor door but it was\nopen. And at the last he found a chamber whereof the door was shut, and\nhe set his hand thereto to have opened it, but he might not.\nCHAPTER XV. How Sir Launcelot was to-fore the door of the chamber\nwherein the Holy Sangreal was.\nThen he enforced him mickle to undo the door. Then he listened and\nheard a voice which sang so sweetly that it seemed none earthly thing;\nand him thought the voice said: Joy and honour be to the Father of\nHeaven. Then Launcelot kneeled down to-fore the chamber, for well wist\nhe that there was the Sangreal within that chamber. Then said he: Fair\nsweet Father, Jesu Christ, if ever I did thing that pleased Thee, Lord\nfor Thy pity never have me not in despite for my sins done aforetime,\nand that Thou show me something of that I seek. And with that he saw\nthe chamber door open, and there came out a great clearness, that the\nhouse was as bright as all the torches of the world had been there.\nSo came he to the chamber door, and would have entered. And anon a\nvoice said to him: Flee, Launcelot, and enter not, for thou oughtest\nnot to do it; and if thou enter thou shalt for-think it. Then he\nwithdrew him aback right heavy. Then looked he up in the midst of the\nchamber, and saw a table of silver, and the Holy Vessel, covered with\nred samite, and many angels about it, whereof one held a candle of wax\nburning, and the other held a cross, and the ornaments of an altar. And\nbefore the Holy Vessel he saw a good man clothed as a priest. And it\nseemed that he was at the sacring of the mass. And it seemed to\nLauncelot that above the priest\u2019s hands were three men, whereof the two\nput the youngest by likeness between the priest\u2019s hands; and so he lift\nit up right high, and it seemed to show so to the people. And then\nLauncelot marvelled not a little, for him thought the priest was so\ngreatly charged of the figure that him seemed that he should fall to\nthe earth. And when he saw none about him that would help him, then\ncame he to the door a great pace, and said: Fair Father Jesu Christ, ne\ntake it for no sin though I help the good man which hath great need of\nhelp.\nRight so entered he into the chamber, and came toward the table of\nsilver; and when he came nigh he felt a breath, that him thought it was\nintermeddled with fire, which smote him so sore in the visage that him\nthought it brent his visage; and therewith he fell to the earth, and\nhad no power to arise, as he that was so araged, that had lost the\npower of his body, and his hearing, and his seeing. Then felt he many\nhands about him, which took him up and bare him out of the chamber\ndoor, without any amending of his swoon, and left him there, seeming\ndead to all people.\nSo upon the morrow when it was fair day they within were arisen, and\nfound Launcelot lying afore the chamber door. All they marvelled how\nthat he came in, and so they looked upon him, and felt his pulse to wit\nwhether there were any life in him; and so they found life in him, but\nhe might not stand nor stir no member that he had. And so they took him\nby every part of the body, and bare him into a chamber, and laid him in\na rich bed, far from all folk; and so he lay four days. Then the one\nsaid he was alive, and the other said, Nay. In the name of God, said an\nold man, for I do you verily to wit he is not dead, but he is so full\nof life as the mightiest of you all; and therefore I counsel you that\nhe be well kept till God send him life again.\nCHAPTER XVI. How Sir launcelot had lain four-and-twenty days and as\nmany nights as a dead man, and other divers matters.\nIn such manner they kept Launcelot four-and-twenty days and all so many\nnights, that ever he lay still as a dead man; and at the twenty-fifth\nday befell him after midday that he opened his eyes. And when he saw\nfolk he made great sorrow, and said: Why have ye awaked me, for I was\nmore at ease than I am now. O Jesu Christ, who might be so blessed that\nmight see openly thy great marvels of secretness there where no sinner\nmay be! What have ye seen? said they about him. I have seen, said he,\nso great marvels that no tongue may tell, and more than any heart can\nthink, and had not my son been here afore me I had seen much more.\nThen they told him how he had lain there four-and-twenty days and\nnights. Then him thought it was punishment for the four-and-twenty\nyears that he had been a sinner, wherefore Our Lord put him in penance\nfour-and-twenty days and nights. Then looked Sir Launcelot afore him,\nand saw the hair which he had borne nigh a year, for that he\nfor-thought him right much that he had broken his promise unto the\nhermit, which he had avowed to do. Then they asked how it stood with\nhim. Forsooth, said he, I am whole of body, thanked be Our Lord;\ntherefore, sirs, for God\u2019s love tell me where I am. Then said they all\nthat he was in the castle of Carbonek.\nTherewith came a gentlewoman and brought him a shirt of small linen\ncloth, but he changed not there, but took the hair to him again. Sir,\nsaid they, the quest of the Sangreal is achieved now right in you, that\nnever shall ye see of the Sangreal no more than ye have seen. Now I\nthank God, said Launcelot, of His great mercy of that I have seen, for\nit sufficeth me; for as I suppose no man in this world hath lived\nbetter than I have done to enchieve that I have done. And therewith he\ntook the hair and clothed him in it, and above that he put a linen\nshirt, and after a robe of scarlet, fresh and new. And when he was so\narrayed they marvelled all, for they knew him that he was Launcelot,\nthe good knight. And then they said all: O my lord Sir Launcelot, be\nthat ye? And he said: Truly I am he.\nThen came word to King Pelles that the knight that had lain so long\ndead was Sir Launcelot. Then was the king right glad, and went to see\nhim. And when Launcelot saw him come he dressed him against him, and\nthere made the king great joy of him. And there the king told him\ntidings that his fair daughter was dead. Then Launcelot was right heavy\nof it, and said: Sir, me forthinketh the death of your daughter, for\nshe was a full fair lady, fresh and young. And well I wot she bare the\nbest knight that is now on the earth, or that ever was sith God was\nborn. So the king held him there four days, and on the morrow he took\nhis leave at King Pelles and at all the fellowship, and thanked them of\ntheir great labour.\nRight so as they sat at their dinner in the chief salle, then was so\nbefallen that the Sangreal had fulfilled the table with all manner of\nmeats that any heart might think. So as they sat they saw all the doors\nand the windows of the place were shut without man\u2019s hand, whereof they\nwere all abashed, and none wist what to do.\nAnd then it happed suddenly a knight came to the chief door and\nknocked, and cried: Undo the door. But they would not. And ever he\ncried: Undo; but they would not. And at last it noyed them so much that\nthe king himself arose and came to a window there where the knight\ncalled. Then he said: Sir knight, ye shall not enter at this time while\nthe Sangreal is here, and therefore go into another; for certes ye be\nnone of the knights of the quest, but one of them which hath served the\nfiend, and hast left the service of Our Lord: and he was passing wroth\nat the king\u2019s words. Sir knight, said the king, sith ye would so fain\nenter, say me of what country ye be. Sir, said he, I am of the realm of\nLogris, and my name is Ector de Maris, and brother unto my lord, Sir\nLauncelot. In the name of God, said the king, me for-thinketh of what I\nhave said, for your brother is here within. And when Ector de Maris\nunderstood that his brother was there, for he was the man in the world\nthat he most dread and loved, and then he said: Ah God, now doubleth my\nsorrow and shame. Full truly said the good man of the hill unto Gawaine\nand to me of our dreams. Then went he out of the court as fast as his\nhorse might, and so throughout the castle.\nCHAPTER XVII. How Sir Launcelot returned towards Logris, and of other\nadventures which he saw in the way.\nThen King Pelles came to Sir Launcelot and told him tidings of his\nbrother, whereof he was sorry, that he wist not what to do. So Sir\nLauncelot departed, and took his arms, and said he would go see the\nrealm of Logris, which I have not seen in twelve months. And therewith\nhe commended the king to God, and so rode through many realms. And at\nthe last he came to a white abbey, and there they made him that night\ngreat cheer; and on the morn he rose and heard mass. And afore an altar\nhe found a rich tomb, which was newly made; and then he took heed, and\nsaw the sides written with gold which said: Here lieth King Bagdemagus\nof Gore, which King Arthur\u2019s nephew slew; and named him, Sir Gawaine.\nThen was not he a little sorry, for Launcelot loved him much more than\nany other, and had it been any other than Gawaine he should not have\nescaped from death to life; and said to himself: Ah Lord God, this is a\ngreat hurt unto King Arthur\u2019s court, the loss of such a man. And then\nhe departed and came to the abbey where Galahad did the adventure of\nthe tombs, and won the white shield with the red cross; and there had\nhe great cheer all that night.\nAnd on the morn he turned unto Camelot, where he found King Arthur and\nthe queen. But many of the knights of the Round Table were slain and\ndestroyed, more than half. And so three were come home, Ector, Gawaine,\nand Lionel, and many other that need not to be rehearsed. And all the\ncourt was passing glad of Sir Launcelot, and the king asked him many\ntidings of his son Galahad. And there Launcelot told the king of his\nadventures that had befallen him since he departed. And also he told\nhim of the adventures of Galahad, Percivale, and Bors, which that he\nknew by the letter of the dead damosel, and as Galahad had told him.\nNow God would, said the king, that they were all three here. That shall\nnever be, said Launcelot, for two of them shall ye never see, but one\nof them shall come again.\nNow leave we this story and speak of Galahad.\nCHAPTER XVIII. How Galahad came to King Mordrains, and of other matters\nand adventures.\nNow, saith the story, Galahad rode many journeys in vain. And at the\nlast he came to the abbey where King Mordrains was, and when he heard\nthat, he thought he would abide to see him. And upon the morn, when he\nhad heard mass, Galahad came unto King Mordrains, and anon the king saw\nhim, which had lain blind of long time. And then he dressed him against\nhim, and said: Galahad, the servant of Jesu Christ, whose coming I have\nabiden so long, now embrace me and let me rest on thy breast, so that I\nmay rest between thine arms, for thou art a clean virgin above all\nknights, as the flower of the lily in whom virginity is signified, and\nthou art the rose the which is the flower of all good virtues, and in\ncolour of fire. For the fire of the Holy Ghost is taken so in thee that\nmy flesh which was all dead of oldness is become young again. Then\nGalahad heard his words, then he embraced him and all his body. Then\nsaid he: Fair Lord Jesu Christ, now I have my will. Now I require thee,\nin this point that I am in, thou come and visit me. And anon Our Lord\nheard his prayer: therewith the soul departed from the body.\nAnd then Galahad put him in the earth as a king ought to be, and so\ndeparted and so came into a perilous forest where he found the well the\nwhich boileth with great waves, as the tale telleth to-fore. And as\nsoon as Galahad set his hand thereto it ceased, so that it brent no\nmore, and the heat departed. For that it brent it was a sign of\nlechery, the which was that time much used. But that heat might not\nabide his pure virginity. And this was taken in the country for a\nmiracle. And so ever after was it called Galahad\u2019s well.\nThen by adventure he came into the country of Gore, and into the abbey\nwhere Launcelot had been to-forehand, and found the tomb of King\nBagdemagus, but he was founder thereof, Joseph of Aramathie\u2019s son; and\nthe tomb of Simeon where Launcelot had failed. Then he looked into a\ncroft under the minster, and there he saw a tomb which brent full\nmarvellously. Then asked he the brethren what it was. Sir, said they, a\nmarvellous adventure that may not be brought unto none end but by him\nthat passeth of bounty and of knighthood all them of the Round Table. I\nwould, said Galahad, that ye would lead me thereto. Gladly, said they,\nand so led him till a cave. And he went down upon greses, and came nigh\nthe tomb. And then the flaming failed, and the fire staunched, the\nwhich many a day had been great. Then came there a voice that said:\nMuch are ye beholden to thank Our Lord, the which hath given you a good\nhour, that ye may draw out the souls of earthly pain, and to put them\ninto the joys of paradise. I am of your kindred, the which hath dwelled\nin this heat this three hundred winter and four-and-fifty to be purged\nof the sin that I did against Joseph of Aramathie. Then Galahad took\nthe body in his arms and bare it into the minster. And that night lay\nGalahad in the abbey; and on the morn he gave him service, and put him\nin the earth afore the high altar.\nCHAPTER XIX. How Sir Percivale and Sir Bors met with Sir Galahad, and\nhow they came to the castle of Carbonek, and other matters.\nSo departed he from thence, and commended the brethren to God; and so\nhe rode five days till that he came to the Maimed King. And ever\nfollowed Percivale the five days, asking where he had been; and so one\ntold him how the adventures of Logris were enchieved. So on a day it\nbefell that they came out of a great forest, and there they met at\ntraverse with Sir Bors, the which rode alone. It is none need to tell\nif they were glad; and them he saluted, and they yielded him honour and\ngood adventure, and everych told other. Then said Bors: It is mo than a\nyear and an half that I ne lay ten times where men dwelled, but in wild\nforests and in mountains, but God was ever my comfort.\nThen rode they a great while till that they came to the castle of\nCarbonek. And when they were entered within the castle King Pelles knew\nthem; then there was great joy, for they wist well by their coming that\nthey had fulfilled the quest of the Sangreal. Then Eliazar, King\nPelles\u2019 son, brought to-fore them the broken sword wherewith Joseph was\nstricken through the thigh. Then Bors set his hand thereto, if that he\nmight have soldered it again; but it would not be. Then he took it to\nPercivale, but he had no more power thereto than he. Now have ye it\nagain, said Percivale to Galahad, for an it be ever enchieved by any\nbodily man ye must do it. And then he took the pieces and set them\ntogether, and they seemed that they had never been broken, and as well\nas it had been first forged. And when they within espied that the\nadventure of the sword was enchieved, then they gave the sword to Bors,\nfor it might not be better set; for he was a good knight and a worthy\nman.\nAnd a little afore even the sword arose great and marvellous, and was\nfull of great heat that many men fell for dread. And anon alighted a\nvoice among them, and said: They that ought not to sit at the table of\nJesu Christ arise, for now shall very knights be fed. So they went\nthence, all save King Pelles and Eliazar, his son, the which were holy\nmen, and a maid which was his niece; and so these three fellows and\nthey three were there, no mo. Anon they saw knights all armed came in\nat the hall door, and did off their helms and their arms, and said unto\nGalahad: Sir, we have hied right much for to be with you at this table\nwhere the holy meat shall be departed. Then said he: Ye be welcome, but\nof whence be ye? So three of them said they were of Gaul, and other\nthree said they were of Ireland, and the other three said they were of\nDenmark. So as they sat thus there came out a bed of tree, of a\nchamber, the which four gentlewomen brought; and in the bed lay a good\nman sick, and a crown of gold upon his head; and there in the midst of\nthe place they set him down, and went again their way. Then he lift up\nhis head, and said: Galahad, Knight, ye be welcome, for much have I\ndesired your coming, for in such pain and in such anguish I have been\nlong. But now I trust to God the term is come that my pain shall be\nallayed, that I shall pass out of this world so as it was promised me\nlong ago. Therewith a voice said: There be two among you that be not in\nthe quest of the Sangreal, and therefore depart ye.\nCHAPTER XX. How Galahad and his fellows were fed of the Holy Sangreal,\nand how Our Lord appeared to them, and other things.\nThen King Pelles and his son departed. And therewithal beseemed them\nthat there came a man, and four angels from heaven, clothed in likeness\nof a bishop, and had a cross in his hand; and these four angels bare\nhim up in a chair, and set him down before the table of silver where\nupon the Sangreal was; and it seemed that he had in midst of his\nforehead letters the which said: See ye here Joseph, the first bishop\nof Christendom, the same which Our Lord succoured in the city of Sarras\nin the spiritual place. Then the knights marvelled, for that bishop was\ndead more than three hundred year to-fore. O knights, said he, marvel\nnot, for I was sometime an earthly man. With that they heard the\nchamber door open, and there they saw angels; and two bare candles of\nwax, and the third a towel, and the fourth a spear which bled\nmarvellously, that three drops fell within a box which he held with his\nother hand. And they set the candles upon the table, and the third the\ntowel upon the vessel, and the fourth the holy spear even upright upon\nthe vessel. And then the bishop made semblaunt as though he would have\ngone to the sacring of the mass. And then he took an ubblie which was\nmade in likeness of bread. And at the lifting up there came a figure in\nlikeness of a child, and the visage was as red and as bright as any\nfire, and smote himself into the bread, so that they all saw it that\nthe bread was formed of a fleshly man; and then he put it into the Holy\nVessel again, and then he did that longed to a priest to do to a mass.\nAnd then he went to Galahad and kissed him, and bade him go and kiss\nhis fellows: and so he did anon. Now, said he, servants of Jesu Christ,\nye shall be fed afore this table with sweet meats that never knights\ntasted. And when he had said, he vanished away. And they set them at\nthe table in great dread, and made their prayers.\nThen looked they and saw a man come out of the Holy Vessel, that had\nall the signs of the passion of Jesu Christ, bleeding all openly, and\nsaid: My knights, and my servants, and my true children, which be come\nout of deadly life into spiritual life, I will now no longer hide me\nfrom you, but ye shall see now a part of my secrets and of my hidden\nthings: now hold and receive the high meat which ye have so much\ndesired. Then took he himself the Holy Vessel and came to Galahad; and\nhe kneeled down, and there he received his Saviour, and after him so\nreceived all his fellows; and they thought it so sweet that it was\nmarvellous to tell. Then said he to Galahad: Son, wottest thou what I\nhold betwixt my hands? Nay, said he, but if ye will tell me. This is,\nsaid he, the holy dish wherein I ate the lamb on Sheer-Thursday. And\nnow hast thou seen that thou most desired to see, but yet hast thou not\nseen it so openly as thou shalt see it in the city of Sarras in the\nspiritual place. Therefore thou must go hence and bear with thee this\nHoly Vessel; for this night it shall depart from the realm of Logris,\nthat it shall never be seen more here. And wottest thou wherefore? For\nhe is not served nor worshipped to his right by them of this land, for\nthey be turned to evil living; therefore I shall disherit them of the\nhonour which I have done them. And therefore go ye three to-morrow unto\nthe sea, where ye shall find your ship ready, and with you take the\nsword with the strange girdles, and no more with you but Sir Percivale\nand Sir Bors. Also I will that ye take with you of the blood of this\nspear for to anoint the Maimed King, both his legs and all his body,\nand he shall have his health. Sir, said Galahad, why shall not these\nother fellows go with us? For this cause: for right as I departed my\napostles one here and another there, so I will that ye depart; and two\nof you shall die in my service, but one of you shall come again and\ntell tidings. Then gave he them his blessing and vanished away.\nCHAPTER XXI. How Galahad anointed with the blood of the spear the\nMaimed King, and of other adventures.\nAnd Galahad went anon to the spear which lay upon the table, and\ntouched the blood with his fingers, and came after to the Maimed King\nand anointed his legs.\nAnd therewith he clothed him anon, and start upon his feet out of his\nbed as an whole man, and thanked Our Lord that He had healed him. And\nthat was not to the worldward, for anon he yielded him to a place of\nreligion of white monks, and was a full holy man.\nThat same night about midnight came a voice among them which said: My\nsons and not my chief sons, my friends and not my warriors, go ye hence\nwhere ye hope best to do and as I bade you.\nAh, thanked be Thou, Lord, that Thou wilt vouchsafe to call us, Thy\nsinners. Now may we well prove that we have not lost our pains.\nAnd anon in all haste they took their harness and departed.\nBut the three knights of Gaul, one of them hight Claudine, King\nClaudas\u2019 son, and the other two were great gentlemen. Then prayed\nGalahad to everych of them, that if they come to King Arthur\u2019s court\nthat they should salute my lord, Sir Launcelot, my father, and all them\nof the Round Table; and prayed them if that they came on that part that\nthey should not forget it.\nRight so departed Galahad, Percivale and Bors with him; and so they\nrode three days, and then they came to a rivage, and found the ship\nwhereof the tale speaketh of to-fore. And when they came to the board\nthey found in the midst the table of silver which they had left with\nthe Maimed King, and the Sangreal which was covered with red samite.\nThen were they glad to have such things in their fellowship; and so\nthey entered and made great reverence thereto; and Galahad fell in his\nprayer long time to Our Lord, that at what time he asked, that he\nshould pass out of this world.\nSo much he prayed till a voice said to him: Galahad, thou shalt have\nthy request; and when thou askest the death of thy body thou shalt have\nit, and then shalt thou find the life of the soul.\nPercivale heard this, and prayed him, of fellowship that was between\nthem, to tell him wherefore he asked such things.\nThat shall I tell you, said Galahad; the other day when we saw a part\nof the adventures of the Sangreal I was in such a joy of heart, that I\ntrow never man was that was earthly. And therefore I wot well, when my\nbody is dead my soul shall be in great joy to see the blessed Trinity\nevery day, and the majesty of Our Lord, Jesu Christ.\nSo long were they in the ship that they said to Galahad: Sir, in this\nbed ought ye to lie, for so saith the scripture. And so he laid him\ndown and slept a great while; and when he awaked he looked afore him\nand saw the city of Sarras. And as they would have landed they saw the\nship wherein Percivale had put his sister in. Truly, said Percivale, in\nthe name of God, well hath my sister holden us covenant. Then took they\nout of the ship the table of silver, and he took it to Percivale and to\nBors, to go to-fore, and Galahad came behind. And right so they went to\nthe city, and at the gate of the city they saw an old man crooked. Then\nGalahad called him and bade him help to bear this heavy thing. Truly,\nsaid the old man, it is ten year ago that I might not go but with\ncrutches. Care thou not, said Galahad, and arise up and shew thy good\nwill. And so he assayed, and found himself as whole as ever he was.\nThan ran he to the table, and took one part against Galahad. And anon\narose there great noise in the city, that a cripple was made whole by\nknights marvellous that entered into the city.\nThen anon after, the three knights went to the water, and brought up\ninto the palace Percivale\u2019s sister, and buried her as richly as a\nking\u2019s daughter ought to be. And when the king of the city, which was\ncleped Estorause, saw the fellowship, he asked them of whence they\nwere, and what thing it was that they had brought upon the table of\nsilver. And they told him the truth of the Sangreal, and the power\nwhich that God had sent there. Then the king was a tyrant, and was come\nof the line of paynims, and took them and put them in prison in a deep\nhole.\nCHAPTER XXII. How they were fed with the Sangreal while they were in\nprison, and how Galahad was made king.\nBut as soon as they were there Our Lord sent them the Sangreal, through\nwhose grace they were always fulfilled while that they were in prison.\nSo at the year\u2019s end it befell that this King Estorause lay sick, and\nfelt that he should die. Then he sent for the three knights, and they\ncame afore him; and he cried them mercy of that he had done to them,\nand they forgave it him goodly; and he died anon. When the king was\ndead all the city was dismayed, and wist not who might be their king.\nRight so as they were in counsel there came a voice among them, and\nbade them choose the youngest knight of them three to be their king:\nFor he shall well maintain you and all yours. So they made Galahad king\nby all the assent of the holy city, and else they would have slain him.\nAnd when he was come to behold the land, he let make above the table of\nsilver a chest of gold and of precious stones, that hilled the Holy\nVessel. And every day early the three fellows would come afore it, and\nmake their prayers.\nNow at the year\u2019s end, and the self day after Galahad had borne the\ncrown of gold, he arose up early and his fellows, and came to the\npalace, and saw to-fore them the Holy Vessel, and a man kneeling on his\nknees in likeness of a bishop, that had about him a great fellowship of\nangels, as it had been Jesu Christ himself; and then he arose and began\na mass of Our Lady. And when he came to the sacrament of the mass, and\nhad done, anon he called Galahad, and said to him: Come forth the\nservant of Jesu Christ, and thou shalt see that thou hast much desired\nto see. And then he began to tremble right hard when the deadly flesh\nbegan to behold the spiritual things. Then he held up his hands toward\nheaven and said: Lord, I thank thee, for now I see that that hath been\nmy desire many a day. Now, blessed Lord, would I not longer live, if it\nmight please thee, Lord. And therewith the good man took Our Lord\u2019s\nbody betwixt his hands, and proffered it to Galahad, and he received it\nright gladly and meekly. Now wottest thou what I am? said the good man.\nNay, said Galahad. I am Joseph of Aramathie, the which Our Lord hath\nsent here to thee to bear thee fellowship; and wottest thou wherefore\nthat he hath sent me more than any other? For thou hast resembled me in\ntwo things; in that thou hast seen the marvels of the Sangreal, in that\nthou hast been a clean maiden, as I have been and am.\nAnd when he had said these words Galahad went to Percivale and kissed\nhim, and commended him to God; and so he went to Sir Bors and kissed\nhim, and commended him to God, and said: Fair lord, salute me to my\nlord, Sir Launcelot, my father, and as soon as ye see him, bid him\nremember of this unstable world. And therewith he kneeled down to-fore\nthe table and made his prayers, and then suddenly his soul departed to\nJesu Christ, and a great multitude of angels bare his soul up to\nheaven, that the two fellows might well behold it. Also the two fellows\nsaw come from heaven an hand, but they saw not the body. And then it\ncame right to the Vessel, and took it and the spear, and so bare it up\nto heaven. Sithen was there never man so hardy to say that he had seen\nthe Sangreal.\nCHAPTER XXIII. Of the sorrow that Percivale and Bors made when Galahad\nwas dead: and of Percivale how he died, and other matters.\nWhen Percivale and Bors saw Galahad dead they made as much sorrow as\never did two men. And if they had not been good men they might lightly\nhave fallen in despair. And the people of the country and of the city\nwere right heavy. And then he was buried; and as soon as he was buried\nSir Percivale yielded him to an hermitage out of the city, and took a\nreligious clothing. And Bors was alway with him, but never changed he\nhis secular clothing, for that he purposed him to go again into the\nrealm of Logris. Thus a year and two months lived Sir Percivale in the\nhermitage a full holy life, and then passed out of this world; and Bors\nlet bury him by his sister and by Galahad in the spiritualities.\nWhen Bors saw that he was in so far countries as in the parts of\nBabylon he departed from Sarras, and armed him and came to the sea, and\nentered into a ship; and so it befell him in good adventure he came\ninto the realm of Logris; and he rode so fast till he came to Camelot\nwhere the king was. And then was there great joy made of him in the\ncourt, for they weened all he had been dead, forasmuch as he had been\nso long out of the country. And when they had eaten, the king made\ngreat clerks to come afore him, that they should chronicle of the high\nadventures of the good knights. When Bors had told him of the\nadventures of the Sangreal, such as had befallen him and his three\nfellows, that was Launcelot, Percivale, Galahad, and himself, there\nLauncelot told the adventures of the Sangreal that he had seen. All\nthis was made in great books, and put up in almeries at Salisbury. And\nanon Sir Bors said to Sir Launcelot: Galahad, your own son, saluted you\nby me, and after you King Arthur and all the court, and so did Sir\nPercivale, for I buried them with mine own hands in the city of Sarras.\nAlso, Sir Launcelot, Galahad prayed you to remember of this unsiker\nworld as ye behight him when ye were together more than half a year.\nThis is true, said Launcelot; now I trust to God his prayer shall avail\nme.\nThen Launcelot took Sir Bors in his arms, and said: Gentle cousin, ye\nare right welcome to me, and all that ever I may do for you and for\nyours ye shall find my poor body ready at all times, while the spirit\nis in it, and that I promise you faithfully, and never to fail. And wit\nye well, gentle cousin, Sir Bors, that ye and I will never depart\nasunder whilst our lives may last. Sir, said he, I will as ye will.\n_Thus endeth the history of the Sangreal, that was briefly drawn out of\nFrench into English, the which is a story chronicled for one of the\ntruest and the holiest that is in this world, the which is the xvii\nbook._\n_And here followeth the eighteenth book._\nBOOK XVIII.\nCHAPTER I. Of the joy King Arthur and the queen had of the achievement\nof the Sangreal; and how Launcelot fell to his old love again.\nSo after the quest of the Sangreal was fulfilled, and all knights that\nwere left alive were come again unto the Table Round, as the book of\nthe Sangreal maketh mention, then was there great joy in the court; and\nin especial King Arthur and Queen Guenever made great joy of the\nremnant that were come home, and passing glad was the king and the\nqueen of Sir Launcelot and of Sir Bors, for they had been passing long\naway in the quest of the Sangreal.\nThen, as the book saith, Sir Launcelot began to resort unto Queen\nGuenever again, and forgat the promise and the perfection that he made\nin the quest. For, as the book saith, had not Sir Launcelot been in his\nprivy thoughts and in his mind so set inwardly to the queen as he was\nin seeming outward to God, there had no knight passed him in the quest\nof the Sangreal; but ever his thoughts were privily on the queen, and\nso they loved together more hotter than they did to-forehand, and had\nsuch privy draughts together, that many in the court spake of it, and\nin especial Sir Agravaine, Sir Gawaine\u2019s brother, for he was ever\nopen-mouthed.\nSo befell that Sir Launcelot had many resorts of ladies and damosels\nthat daily resorted unto him, that besought him to be their champion,\nand in all such matters of right Sir Launcelot applied him daily to do\nfor the pleasure of Our Lord, Jesu Christ. And ever as much as he might\nhe withdrew him from the company and fellowship of Queen Guenever, for\nto eschew the slander and noise; wherefore the queen waxed wroth with\nSir Launcelot. And upon a day she called Sir Launcelot unto her\nchamber, and said thus: Sir Launcelot, I see and feel daily that thy\nlove beginneth to slake, for thou hast no joy to be in my presence, but\never thou art out of this court, and quarrels and matters thou hast\nnowadays for ladies and gentlewomen more than ever thou wert wont to\nhave aforehand.\nAh madam, said Launcelot, in this ye must hold me excused for divers\ncauses; one is, I was but late in the quest of the Sangreal; and I\nthank God of his great mercy, and never of my desert, that I saw in\nthat my quest as much as ever saw any sinful man, and so was it told\nme. And if I had not had my privy thoughts to return to your love again\nas I do, I had seen as great mysteries as ever saw my son Galahad,\nouther Percivale, or Sir Bors; and therefore, madam, I was but late in\nthat quest. Wit ye well, madam, it may not be yet lightly forgotten the\nhigh service in whom I did my diligent labour. Also, madam, wit ye well\nthat there be many men speak of our love in this court, and have you\nand me greatly in await, as Sir Agravaine and Sir Mordred; and madam,\nwit ye well I dread them more for your sake than for any fear I have of\nthem myself, for I may happen to escape and rid myself in a great need,\nwhere ye must abide all that will be said unto you. And then if that ye\nfall in any distress through wilful folly, then is there none other\nremedy or help but by me and my blood. And wit ye well, madam, the\nboldness of you and me will bring us to great shame and slander; and\nthat were me loath to see you dishonoured. And that is the cause I take\nupon me more for to do for damosels and maidens than ever I did\nto-fore, that men should understand my joy and my delight is my\npleasure to have ado for damosels and maidens.\nCHAPTER II. How the queen commanded Sir Launcelot to avoid the court,\nand of the sorrow that Launcelot made.\nAll this while the queen stood still and let Sir Launcelot say what he\nwould. And when he had all said she brast out a-weeping, and so she\nsobbed and wept a great while. And when she might speak she said:\nLauncelot, now I well understand that thou art a false recreant knight\nand a common lecher, and lovest and holdest other ladies, and by me\nthou hast disdain and scorn. For wit thou well, she said, now I\nunderstand thy falsehood, and therefore shall I never love thee no\nmore. And never be thou so hardy to come in my sight; and right here I\ndischarge thee this court, that thou never come within it; and I\nforfend thee my fellowship, and upon pain of thy head that thou see me\nno more. Right so Sir Launcelot departed with great heaviness, that\nunnethe he might sustain himself for great dole-making.\nThen he called Sir Bors, Sir Ector de Maris, and Sir Lionel, and told\nthem how the queen had forfended him the court, and so he was in will\nto depart into his own country. Fair sir, said Sir Bors de Ganis, ye\nshall not depart out of this land by mine advice. Ye must remember in\nwhat honour ye are renowned, and called the noblest knight of the\nworld; and many great matters ye have in hand. And women in their\nhastiness will do ofttimes that sore repenteth them; and therefore by\nmine advice ye shall take your horse, and ride to the good hermitage\nhere beside Windsor, that sometime was a good knight, his name is Sir\nBrasias, and there shall ye abide till I send you word of better\ntidings. Brother, said Sir Launcelot, wit ye well I am full loath to\ndepart out of this realm, but the queen hath defended me so highly,\nthat meseemeth she will never be my good lady as she hath been. Say ye\nnever so, said Sir Bors, for many times or this time she hath been\nwroth with you, and after it she was the first that repented it. Ye say\nwell, said Launcelot, for now will I do by your counsel, and take mine\nhorse and my harness, and ride to the hermit Sir Brasias, and there\nwill I repose me until I hear some manner of tidings from you; but,\nfair brother, I pray you get me the love of my lady, Queen Guenever, an\nye may. Sir, said Sir Bors, ye need not to move me of such matters, for\nwell ye wot I will do what I may to please you.\nAnd then the noble knight, Sir Launcelot, departed with right heavy\ncheer suddenly, that none earthly creature wist of him, nor where he\nwas become, but Sir Bors. So when Sir Launcelot was departed, the queen\noutward made no manner of sorrow in showing to none of his blood nor to\nnone other. But wit ye well, inwardly, as the book saith, she took\ngreat thought, but she bare it out with a proud countenance as though\nshe felt nothing nor danger.\nCHAPTER III. How at a dinner that the queen made there was a knight\nenpoisoned, which Sir Mador laid on the queen.\nAnd then the queen let make a privy dinner in London unto the knights\nof the Round Table. And all was for to show outward that she had as\ngreat joy in all other knights of the Table Round as she had in Sir\nLauncelot. All only at that dinner she had Sir Gawaine and his\nbrethren, that is for to say Sir Agravaine, Sir Gaheris, Sir Gareth,\nand Sir Mordred. Also there was Sir Bors de Ganis, Sir Blamore de\nGanis, Sir Bleoberis de Ganis, Sir Galihud, Sir Galihodin, Sir Ector de\nMaris, Sir Lionel, Sir Palomides, Safere his brother, Sir La Cote Male\nTaile, Sir Persant, Sir Ironside, Sir Brandiles, Sir Kay le Seneschal,\nSir Mador de la Porte, Sir Patrise, a knight of Ireland, Aliduk, Sir\nAstamore, and Sir Pinel le Savage, the which was cousin to Sir Lamorak\nde Galis, the good knight that Sir Gawaine and his brethren slew by\ntreason. And so these four-and-twenty knights should dine with the\nqueen in a privy place by themself, and there was made a great feast of\nall manner of dainties.\nBut Sir Gawaine had a custom that he used daily at dinner and at\nsupper, that he loved well all manner of fruit, and in especial apples\nand pears. And therefore whosomever dined or feasted Sir Gawaine would\ncommonly purvey for good fruit for him, and so did the queen for to\nplease Sir Gawaine; she let purvey for him all manner of fruit, for Sir\nGawaine was a passing hot knight of nature. And this Pinel hated Sir\nGawaine because of his kinsman Sir Lamorak de Galis; and therefore for\npure envy and hate Sir Pinel enpoisoned certain apples for to enpoison\nSir Gawaine. And so this was well unto the end of the meat; and so it\nbefell by misfortune a good knight named Patrise, cousin unto Sir Mador\nde la Porte, to take a poisoned apple. And when he had eaten it he\nswelled so till he brast, and there Sir Patrise fell down suddenly dead\namong them.\nThen every knight leapt from the board ashamed, and araged for wrath,\nnigh out of their wits. For they wist not what to say; considering\nQueen Guenever made the feast and dinner, they all had suspicion unto\nher. My lady, the queen, said Gawaine, wit ye well, madam, that this\ndinner was made for me, for all folks that know my condition understand\nthat I love well fruit, and now I see well I had near been slain;\ntherefore, madam, I dread me lest ye will be shamed. Then the queen\nstood still and was sore abashed, that she nist not what to say. This\nshall not so be ended, said Sir Mador de la Porte, for here have I lost\na full noble knight of my blood; and therefore upon this shame and\ndespite I will be revenged to the utterance. And there openly Sir Mador\nappealed the queen of the death of his cousin, Sir Patrise. Then stood\nthey all still, that none would speak a word against him, for they all\nhad great suspicion unto the queen because she let make that dinner.\nAnd the queen was so abashed that she could none other ways do, but\nwept so heartily that she fell in a swoon. With this noise and cry came\nto them King Arthur, and when he wist of that trouble he was a passing\nheavy man.\nCHAPTER IV. How Sir Mador appeached the queen of treason, and there was\nno knight would fight for her at the first time.\nAnd ever Sir Mador stood still afore the king, and ever he appealed the\nqueen of treason; for the custom was such that time that all manner of\nshameful death was called treason. Fair lords, said King Arthur, me\nrepenteth of this trouble, but the case is so I may not have ado in\nthis matter, for I must be a rightful judge; and that repenteth me that\nI may not do battle for my wife, for as I deem this deed came never by\nher. And therefore I suppose she shall not be all distained, but that\nsome good knight shall put his body in jeopardy for my queen rather\nthan she shall be brent in a wrong quarrel. And therefore, Sir Mador,\nbe not so hasty, for it may happen she shall not be all friendless; and\ntherefore desire thou thy day of battle, and she shall purvey her of\nsome good knight that shall answer you, or else it were to me great\nshame, and to all my court.\nMy gracious lord, said Sir Mador, ye must hold me excused, for though\nye be our king in that degree, ye are but a knight as we are, and ye\nare sworn unto knighthood as well as we; and therefore I beseech you\nthat ye be not displeased, for there is none of the four-and-twenty\nknights that were bidden to this dinner but all they have great\nsuspicion unto the queen. What say ye all, my lords? said Sir Mador.\nThen they answered by and by that they could not excuse the queen; for\nwhy she made the dinner, and either it must come by her or by her\nservants. Alas, said the queen, I made this dinner for a good intent,\nand never for none evil, so Almighty God me help in my right, as I was\nnever purposed to do such evil deeds, and that I report me unto God.\nMy lord, the king, said Sir Mador, I require you as ye be a righteous\nking give me a day that I may have justice. Well, said the king, I give\nthe day this day fifteen days that thou be ready armed on horseback in\nthe meadow beside Westminster. And if it so fall that there be any\nknight to encounter with you, there mayst thou do the best, and God\nspeed the right. And if it so fall that there be no knight at that day,\nthen must my queen be burnt, and there she shall be ready to have her\njudgment. I am answered, said Sir Mador. And every knight went where it\nliked them.\nSo when the king and the queen were together the king asked the queen\nhow this case befell. The queen answered: So God me help, I wot not how\nor in what manner. Where is Sir Launcelot? said King Arthur; an he were\nhere he would not grudge to do battle for you. Sir, said the queen, I\nwot not where he is, but his brother and his kinsmen deem that he be\nnot within this realm. That me repenteth, said King Arthur, for an he\nwere here he would soon stint this strife. Then I will counsel you,\nsaid the king, and unto Sir Bors: That ye will do battle for her for\nSir Launcelot\u2019s sake, and upon my life he will not refuse you. For well\nI see, said the king, that none of these four-and-twenty knights that\nwere with you at your dinner where Sir Patrise was slain, that will do\nbattle for you, nor none of them will say well of you, and that shall\nbe a great slander for you in this court. Alas, said the queen, and I\nmay not do withal, but now I miss Sir Launcelot, for an he were here he\nwould put me soon to my heart\u2019s ease. What aileth you, said the king,\nye cannot keep Sir Launcelot upon your side? For wit ye well, said the\nking, who that hath Sir Launcelot upon his part hath the most man of\nworship in the world upon his side. Now go your way, said the king unto\nthe queen, and require Sir Bors to do battle for you for Sir\nLauncelot\u2019s sake.\nCHAPTER V. How the queen required Sir Bors to fight for her, and how he\ngranted upon condition; and how he warned Sir Launcelot thereof.\nSo the queen departed from the king, and sent for Sir Bors into her\nchamber. And when he was come she besought him of succour. Madam, said\nhe, what would ye that I did? for I may not with my worship have ado in\nthis matter, because I was at the same dinner, for dread that any of\nthose knights would have me in suspicion. Also, madam, said Sir Bors,\nnow miss ye Sir Launcelot, for he would not have failed you neither in\nright nor in wrong, as ye have well proved when ye have been in danger;\nand now ye have driven him out of this country, by whom ye and all we\nwere daily worshipped by; therefore, madam, I marvel how ye dare for\nshame require me to do any thing for you, in so much ye have chased him\nout of your country by whom we were borne up and honoured. Alas, fair\nknight, said the queen, I put me wholly in your grace, and all that is\ndone amiss I will amend as ye will counsel me. And therewith she\nkneeled down upon both her knees, and besought Sir Bors to have mercy\nupon her: Outher I shall have a shameful death, and thereto I never\noffended.\nRight so came King Arthur, and found the queen kneeling afore Sir Bors;\nthen Sir Bors pulled her up, and said: Madam, ye do me great dishonour.\nAh, gentle knight, said the king, have mercy upon my queen, courteous\nknight, for I am now in certain she is untruly defamed. And therefore,\ncourteous knight, said the king, promise her to do battle for her, I\nrequire you for the love of Sir Launcelot. My lord, said Sir Bors, ye\nrequire me the greatest thing that any man may require me; and wit ye\nwell if I grant to do battle for the queen I shall wrath many of my\nfellowship of the Table Round. But as for that, said Bors, I will grant\nmy lord that for my lord Sir Launcelot\u2019s sake, and for your sake I will\nat that day be the queen\u2019s champion unless that there come by adventure\na better knight than I am to do battle for her. Will ye promise me\nthis, said the king, by your faith? Yea sir, said Sir Bors, of that I\nwill not fail you, nor her both, but if there come a better knight than\nI am, and then shall he have the battle. Then was the king and the\nqueen passing glad, and so departed, and thanked him heartily.\nSo then Sir Bors departed secretly upon a day, and rode unto Sir\nLauncelot thereas he was with the hermit, Sir Brasias, and told him of\nall their adventure. Ah Jesu, said Sir Launcelot, this is come happily\nas I would have it, and therefore I pray you make you ready to do\nbattle, but look that ye tarry till ye see me come, as long as ye may.\nFor I am sure Mador is an hot knight when he is enchafed, for the more\nye suffer him the hastier will he be to battle. Sir, said Bors, let me\ndeal with him, doubt ye not ye shall have all your will. Then departed\nSir Bors from him and came to the court again. Then was it noised in\nall the court that Sir Bors should do battle for the queen; wherefore\nmany knights were displeased with him, that he would take upon him to\ndo battle in the queen\u2019s quarrel; for there were but few knights in all\nthe court but they deemed the queen was in the wrong, and that she had\ndone that treason.\nSo Sir Bors answered thus to his fellows of the Table Round: Wit ye\nwell, my fair lords, it were shame to us all an we suffered to see the\nmost noble queen of the world to be shamed openly, considering her lord\nand our lord is the man of most worship in the world, and most\nchristened, and he hath ever worshipped us all in all places. Many\nanswered him again: As for our most noble King Arthur, we love him and\nhonour him as well as ye do, but as for Queen Guenever we love her not,\nbecause she is a destroyer of good knights. Fair lords, said Sir Bors,\nmeseemeth ye say not as ye should say, for never yet in my days knew I\nnever nor heard say that ever she was a destroyer of any good knight.\nBut at all times as far as ever I could know she was a maintainer of\ngood knights; and ever she hath been large and free of her goods to all\ngood knights, and the most bounteous lady of her gifts and her good\ngrace, that ever I saw or heard speak of. And therefore it were shame,\nsaid Sir Bors, to us all to our most noble king\u2019s wife, an we suffered\nher to be shamefully slain. And wit ye well, said Sir Bors, I will not\nsuffer it, for I dare say so much, the queen is not guilty of Sir\nPatrise\u2019s death, for she owed him never none ill will, nor none of the\nfour-and-twenty knights that were at that dinner; for I dare say for\ngood love she bade us to dinner, and not for no mal engine, and that I\ndoubt not shall be proved hereafter, for howsomever the game goeth,\nthere was treason among us. Then some said to Sir Bors: We may well\nbelieve your words. And so some of them were well pleased, and some\nwere not so.\nCHAPTER VI. How at the day Sir Bors made him ready for to fight for the\nqueen; and when he would fight how another discharged him.\nThe day came on fast until the even that the battle should be. Then the\nqueen sent for Sir Bors and asked him how he was disposed. Truly madam,\nsaid he, I am disposed in likewise as I promised you, that is for to\nsay I shall not fail you, unless by adventure there come a better\nknight than I am to do battle for you, then, madam, am I discharged of\nmy promise. Will ye, said the queen, that I tell my lord Arthur thus?\nDo as it shall please you, madam. Then the queen went unto the king and\ntold him the answer of Sir Bors. Have ye no doubt, said the king, of\nSir Bors, for I call him now one of the best knights of the world, and\nthe most profitablest man. And thus it passed on until the morn, and\nthe king and the queen and all manner of knights that were there at\nthat time drew them unto the meadow beside Westminster where the battle\nshould be. And so when the king was come with the queen and many\nknights of the Round Table, then the queen was put there in the\nConstable\u2019s ward, and a great fire made about an iron stake, that an\nSir Mador de la Porte had the better, she should be burnt: such custom\nwas used in those days, that neither for favour, neither for love nor\naffinity, there should be none other but righteous judgment, as well\nupon a king as upon a knight, and as well upon a queen as upon another\npoor lady.\nSo in this meanwhile came in Sir Mador de la Porte, and took his oath\nafore the king, that the queen did this treason until his cousin Sir\nPatrise, and unto his oath he would prove it with his body, hand for\nhand, who that would say the contrary. Right so came in Sir Bors de\nGanis, and said: That as for Queen Guenever she is in the right, and\nthat will I make good with my hands that she is not culpable of this\ntreason that is put upon her. Then make thee ready, said Sir Mador, and\nwe shall prove whether thou be in the right or I. Sir Mador, said Sir\nBors, wit thou well I know you for a good knight. Not for then I shall\nnot fear you so greatly, but I trust to God I shall be able to\nwithstand your malice. But this much have I promised my lord Arthur and\nmy lady the queen, that I shall do battle for her in this case to the\nuttermost, unless that there come a better knight than I am and\ndischarge me. Is that all? said Sir Mador, either come thou off and do\nbattle with me, or else say nay. Take your horse, said Sir Bors, and as\nI suppose, ye shall not tarry long but ye shall be answered.\nThen either departed to their tents and made them ready to horseback as\nthey thought best. And anon Sir Mador came into the field with his\nshield on his shoulder and his spear in his hand; and so rode about the\nplace crying unto Arthur: Bid your champion come forth an he dare. Then\nwas Sir Bors ashamed and took his horse and came to the lists\u2019 end. And\nthen was he ware where came from a wood there fast by a knight all\narmed, upon a white horse, with a strange shield of strange arms; and\nhe came riding all that he might run, and so he came to Sir Bors, and\nsaid thus: Fair knight, I pray you be not displeased, for here must a\nbetter knight than ye are have this battle, therefore I pray you\nwithdraw you. For wit ye well I have had this day a right great\njourney, and this battle ought to be mine, and so I promised you when I\nspake with you last, and with all my heart I thank you of your good\nwill. Then Sir Bors rode unto King Arthur and told him how there was a\nknight come that would have the battle for to fight for the queen. What\nknight is he? said the king. I wot not, said Sir Bors, but such\ncovenant he made with me to be here this day. Now my lord, said Sir\nBors, here am I discharged.\nCHAPTER VII. How Sir Launcelot fought against Sir Mador for the queen,\nand how he overcame Sir Mador, and discharged the queen.\nThen the king called to that knight, and asked him if he would fight\nfor the queen. Then he answered to the king: Therefore came I hither,\nand therefore, sir king, he said, tarry me no longer, for I may not\ntarry. For anon as I have finished this battle I must depart hence, for\nI have ado many matters elsewhere. For wit you well, said that knight,\nthis is dishonour to you all knights of the Round Table, to see and\nknow so noble a lady and so courteous a queen as Queen Guenever is,\nthus to be rebuked and shamed amongst you. Then they all marvelled what\nknight that might be that so took the battle upon him. For there was\nnot one that knew him, but if it were Sir Bors.\nThen said Sir Mador de la Porte unto the king: Now let me wit with whom\nI shall have ado withal. And then they rode to the lists\u2019 end, and\nthere they couched their spears, and ran together with all their might,\nand Sir Mador\u2019s spear brake all to pieces, but the other\u2019s spear held,\nand bare Sir Mador\u2019s horse and all backward to the earth a great fall.\nBut mightily and suddenly he avoided his horse and put his shield afore\nhim, and then drew his sword, and bade the other knight alight and do\nbattle with him on foot. Then that knight descended from his horse\nlightly like a valiant man, and put his shield afore him and drew his\nsword; and so they came eagerly unto battle, and either gave other many\ngreat strokes, tracing and traversing, racing and foining, and hurtling\ntogether with their swords as it were wild boars. Thus were they\nfighting nigh an hour, for this Sir Mador was a strong knight, and\nmightily proved in many strong battles. But at the last this knight\nsmote Sir Mador grovelling upon the earth, and the knight stepped near\nhim to have pulled Sir Mador flatling upon the ground; and therewith\nsuddenly Sir Mador arose, and in his rising he smote that knight\nthrough the thick of the thighs that the blood ran out fiercely. And\nwhen he felt himself so wounded, and saw his blood, he let him arise\nupon his feet. And then he gave him such a buffet upon the helm that he\nfell to the earth flatling, and therewith he strode to him to have\npulled off his helm off his head. And then Sir Mador prayed that knight\nto save his life, and so he yielded him as overcome, and released the\nqueen of his quarrel. I will not grant thee thy life, said that knight,\nonly that thou freely release the queen for ever, and that no mention\nbe made upon Sir Patrise\u2019s tomb that ever Queen Guenever consented to\nthat treason. All this shall be done, said Sir Mador, I clearly\ndischarge my quarrel for ever.\nThen the knights parters of the lists took up Sir Mador, and led him to\nhis tent, and the other knight went straight to the stair-foot where\nsat King Arthur; and by that time was the queen come to the king, and\neither kissed other heartily. And when the king saw that knight, he\nstooped down to him, and thanked him, and in likewise did the queen;\nand the king prayed him to put off his helmet, and to repose him, and\nto take a sop of wine. And then he put off his helm to drink, and then\nevery knight knew him that it was Sir Launcelot du Lake. Anon as the\nking wist that, he took the queen in his hand, and yode unto Sir\nLauncelot, and said: Sir, grant mercy of your great travail that ye\nhave had this day for me and for my queen. My lord, said Sir Launcelot,\nwit ye well I ought of right ever to be in your quarrel, and in my lady\nthe queen\u2019s quarrel, to do battle; for ye are the man that gave me the\nhigh order of knighthood, and that day my lady, your queen, did me\ngreat worship, and else I had been shamed; for that same day ye made me\nknight, through my hastiness I lost my sword, and my lady, your queen,\nfound it, and lapped it in her train, and gave me my sword when I had\nneed thereto, and else had I been shamed among all knights; and\ntherefore, my lord Arthur, I promised her at that day ever to be her\nknight in right outher in wrong. Grant mercy, said the king, for this\njourney; and wit ye well, said the king, I shall acquit your goodness.\nAnd ever the queen beheld Sir Launcelot, and wept so tenderly that she\nsank almost to the ground for sorrow that he had done to her so great\ngoodness where she shewed him great unkindness. Then the knights of his\nblood drew unto him, and there either of them made great joy of other.\nAnd so came all the knights of the Table Round that were there at that\ntime, and welcomed him. And then Sir Mador was had to leech-craft, and\nSir Launcelot was healed of his wound. And then there was made great\njoy and mirths in that court.\nCHAPTER VIII. How the truth was known by the Maiden of the Lake, and of\ndivers other matters.\nAnd so it befell that the damosel of the lake, her name was Nimue, the\nwhich wedded the good knight Sir Pelleas, and so she came to the court;\nfor ever she did great goodness unto King Arthur and to all his knights\nthrough her sorcery and enchantments. And so when she heard how the\nqueen was an-angered for the death of Sir Patrise, then she told it\nopenly that she was never guilty; and there she disclosed by whom it\nwas done, and named him, Sir Pinel; and for what cause he did it, there\nit was openly disclosed; and so the queen was excused, and the knight\nPinel fled into his country. Then was it openly known that Sir Pinel\nenpoisoned the apples at the feast to that intent to have destroyed Sir\nGawaine, because Sir Gawaine and his brethren destroyed Sir Lamorak de\nGalis, to the which Sir Pinel was cousin unto. Then was Sir Patrise\nburied in the church of Westminster in a tomb, and thereupon was\nwritten: Here lieth Sir Patrise of Ireland, slain by Sir Pinel le\nSavage, that enpoisoned apples to have slain Sir Gawaine, and by\nmisfortune Sir Patrise ate one of those apples, and then suddenly he\nbrast. Also there was written upon the tomb that Queen Guenever was\nappealed of treason of the death of Sir Patrise, by Sir Mador de la\nPorte; and there was made mention how Sir Launcelot fought with him for\nQueen Guenever, and overcame him in plain battle. All this was written\nupon the tomb of Sir Patrise in excusing of the queen. And then Sir\nMador sued daily and long, to have the queen\u2019s good grace; and so by\nthe means of Sir Launcelot he caused him to stand in the queen\u2019s good\ngrace, and all was forgiven.\nThus it passed on till our Lady Day, Assumption. Within a fifteen days\nof that feast the king let cry a great jousts and a tournament that\nshould be at that day at Camelot, that is Winchester; and the king let\ncry that he and the King of Scots would joust against all that would\ncome against them. And when this cry was made, thither came many\nknights. So there came thither the King of Northgalis, and King Anguish\nof Ireland, and the King with the Hundred Knights, and Galahad, the\nhaut prince, and the King of Northumberland, and many other noble dukes\nand earls of divers countries. So King Arthur made him ready to depart\nto these jousts, and would have had the queen with him, but at that\ntime she would not, she said, for she was sick and might not ride at\nthat time. That me repenteth, said the king, for this seven year ye saw\nnot such a noble fellowship together except at Whitsuntide when Galahad\ndeparted from the court. Truly, said the queen to the king, ye must\nhold me excused, I may not be there, and that me repenteth. And many\ndeemed the queen would not be there because of Sir Launcelot du Lake,\nfor Sir Launcelot would not ride with the king, for he said that he was\nnot whole of the wound the which Sir Mador had given him; wherefore the\nking was heavy and passing wroth. And so he departed toward Winchester\nwith his fellowship; and so by the way the king lodged in a town called\nAstolat, that is now in English called Guildford, and there the king\nlay in the castle.\nSo when the king was departed the queen called Sir Launcelot to her,\nand said thus: Sir Launcelot, ye are greatly to blame thus to hold you\nbehind my lord; what, trow ye, what will your enemies and mine say and\ndeem? nought else but, See how Sir Launcelot holdeth him ever behind\nthe king, and so doth the queen, for that they would have their\npleasure together. And thus will they say, said the queen to Sir\nLauncelot, have ye no doubt thereof.\nCHAPTER IX. How Sir Launcelot rode to Astolat, and received a sleeve to\nwear upon his helm at the request of a maid.\nMadam, said Sir Launcelot, I allow your wit, it is of late come since\nye were wise. And therefore, madam, at this time I will be ruled by\nyour counsel, and this night I will take my rest, and to-morrow by time\nI will take my way toward Winchester. But wit you well, said Sir\nLauncelot to the queen, that at that jousts I will be against the king,\nand against all his fellowship. Ye may there do as ye list, said the\nqueen, but by my counsel ye shall not be against your king and your\nfellowship. For therein be full many hard knights of your blood, as ye\nwot well enough, it needeth not to rehearse them. Madam, said Sir\nLauncelot, I pray you that ye be not displeased with me, for I will\ntake the adventure that God will send me.\nAnd so upon the morn early Sir Launcelot heard mass and brake his fast,\nand so took his leave of the queen and departed. And then he rode so\nmuch until he came to Astolat, that is Guildford; and there it happed\nhim in the eventide he came to an old baron\u2019s place that hight Sir\nBernard of Astolat. And as Sir Launcelot entered into his lodging, King\nArthur espied him as he did walk in a garden beside the castle, how he\ntook his lodging, and knew him full well. It is well, said King Arthur\nunto the knights that were with him in that garden beside the castle, I\nhave now espied one knight that will play his play at the jousts to the\nwhich we be gone toward; I undertake he will do marvels. Who is that,\nwe pray you tell us? said many knights that were there at that time. Ye\nshall not wit for me, said the king, as at this time. And so the king\nsmiled, and went to his lodging.\nSo when Sir Launcelot was in his lodging, and unarmed him in his\nchamber, the old baron and hermit came to him making his reverence, and\nwelcomed him in the best manner; but the old knight knew not Sir\nLauncelot. Fair sir, said Sir Launcelot to his host, I would pray you\nto lend me a shield that were not openly known, for mine is well known.\nSir, said his host, ye shall have your desire, for meseemeth ye be one\nof the likeliest knights of the world, and therefore I shall shew you\nfriendship. Sir, wit you well I have two sons that were but late made\nknights, and the eldest hight Sir Tirre, and he was hurt that same day\nhe was made knight, that he may not ride, and his shield ye shall have;\nfor that is not known I dare say but here, and in no place else. And my\nyoungest son hight Lavaine, and if it please you, he shall ride with\nyou unto that jousts; and he is of his age strong and wight, for much\nmy heart giveth unto you that ye should be a noble knight, therefore I\npray you, tell me your name, said Sir Bernard. As for that, said Sir\nLauncelot, ye must hold me excused as at this time, and if God give me\ngrace to speed well at the jousts I shall come again and tell you. But\nI pray you, said Sir Launcelot, in any wise let me have your son, Sir\nLavaine, with me, and that I may have his brother\u2019s shield. All this\nshall be done, said Sir Bernard.\nThis old baron had a daughter that was called that time the Fair Maiden\nof Astolat. And ever she beheld Sir Launcelot wonderfully; and as the\nbook saith, she cast such a love unto Sir Launcelot that she could\nnever withdraw her love, wherefore she died, and her name was Elaine le\nBlank. So thus as she came to and fro she was so hot in her love that\nshe besought Sir Launcelot to wear upon him at the jousts a token of\nhers. Fair damosel, said Sir Launcelot, an if I grant you that, ye may\nsay I do more for your love than ever I did for lady or damosel. Then\nhe remembered him he would go to the jousts disguised. And because he\nhad never fore that time borne no manner of token of no damosel, then\nhe bethought him that he would bear one of her, that none of his blood\nthereby might know him, and then he said: Fair maiden, I will grant you\nto wear a token of yours upon mine helmet, and therefore what it is,\nshew it me. Sir, she said, it is a red sleeve of mine, of scarlet, well\nembroidered with great pearls: and so she brought it him. So Sir\nLauncelot received it, and said: Never did I erst so much for no\ndamosel. And then Sir Launcelot betook the fair maiden his shield in\nkeeping, and prayed her to keep that until that he came again; and so\nthat night he had merry rest and great cheer, for ever the damosel\nElaine was about Sir Launcelot all the while she might be suffered.\nCHAPTER X. How the tourney began at Winchester, and what knights were\nat the jousts; and other things.\nSo upon a day, on the morn, King Arthur and all his knights departed,\nfor their king had tarried three days to abide his noble knights. And\nso when the king was ridden, Sir Launcelot and Sir Lavaine made them\nready to ride, and either of them had white shields, and the red sleeve\nSir Launcelot let carry with him. And so they took their leave at Sir\nBernard, the old baron, and at his daughter, the Fair Maiden of\nAstolat. And then they rode so long till that they came to Camelot,\nthat time called Winchester; and there was great press of kings, dukes\nearls, and barons, and many noble knights. But there Sir Launcelot was\nlodged privily by the means of Sir Lavaine with a rich burgess, that no\nman in that town was ware what they were. And so they reposed them\nthere till our Lady Day, Assumption, as the great feast should be. So\nthen trumpets blew unto the field, and King Arthur was set on high upon\na scaffold to behold who did best. But as the French book saith, the\nking would not suffer Sir Gawaine to go from him, for never had Sir\nGawaine the better an Sir Launcelot were in the field; and many times\nwas Sir Gawaine rebuked when Launcelot came into any jousts disguised.\nThen some of the kings, as King Anguish of Ireland and the King of\nScots, were that time turned upon the side of King Arthur. And then on\nthe other party was the King of Northgalis, and the King with the\nHundred Knights, and the King of Northumberland, and Sir Galahad, the\nhaut prince. But these three kings and this duke were passing weak to\nhold against King Arthur\u2019s party, for with him were the noblest knights\nof the world. So then they withdrew them either party from other, and\nevery man made him ready in his best manner to do what he might.\nThen Sir Launcelot made him ready, and put the red sleeve upon his\nhead, and fastened it fast; and so Sir Launcelot and Sir Lavaine\ndeparted out of Winchester privily, and rode until a little leaved wood\nbehind the party that held against King Arthur\u2019s party, and there they\nheld them still till the parties smote together. And then came in the\nKing of Scots and the King of Ireland on Arthur\u2019s party, and against\nthem came the King of Northumberland, and the King with the Hundred\nKnights smote down the King of Northumberland, and the King with the\nHundred Knights smote down King Anguish of Ireland. Then Sir Palomides\nthat was on Arthur\u2019s party encountered with Sir Galahad, and either of\nthem smote down other, and either party halp their lords on horseback\nagain. So there began a strong assail upon both parties. And then came\nin Sir Brandiles, Sir Sagramore le Desirous, Sir Dodinas le Savage, Sir\nKay le Seneschal, Sir Griflet le Fise de Dieu, Sir Mordred, Sir Meliot\nde Logris, Sir Ozanna le Cure Hardy, Sir Safere, Sir Epinogris, Sir\nGalleron of Galway. All these fifteen knights were knights of the Table\nRound. So these with more other came in together, and beat aback the\nKing of Northumberland and the King of Northgalis. When Sir Launcelot\nsaw this, as he hoved in a little leaved wood, then he said unto Sir\nLavaine: See yonder is a company of good knights, and they hold them\ntogether as boars that were chafed with dogs. That is truth, said Sir\nLavaine.\nCHAPTER XI. How Sir Launcelot and Sir Lavaine entered in the field\nagainst them of King Arthur\u2019s court, and how Launcelot was hurt.\nNow, said Sir Launcelot, an ye will help me a little, ye shall see\nyonder fellowship that chaseth now these men in our side, that they\nshall go as fast backward as they went forward. Sir, spare not, said\nSir Lavaine, for I shall do what I may. Then Sir Launcelot and Sir\nLavaine came in at the thickest of the press, and there Sir Launcelot\nsmote down Sir Brandiles, Sir Sagramore, Sir Dodinas, Sir Kay, Sir\nGriflet, and all this he did with one spear; and Sir Lavaine smote down\nSir Lucan le Butler and Sir Bedevere. And then Sir Launcelot gat\nanother spear, and there he smote down Sir Agravaine, Sir Gaheris, and\nSir Mordred, and Sir Meliot de Logris; and Sir Lavaine smote Ozanna le\nCure Hardy. And then Sir Launcelot drew his sword, and there he smote\non the right hand and on the left hand, and by great force he unhorsed\nSir Safere, Sir Epinogris, and Sir Galleron; and then the knights of\nthe Table Round withdrew them aback, after they had gotten their horses\nas well as they might. O mercy Jesu, said Sir Gawaine, what knight is\nyonder that doth so marvellous deeds of arms in that field? I wot well\nwhat he is, said King Arthur, but as at this time I will not name him.\nSir, said Sir Gawaine, I would say it were Sir Launcelot by his riding\nand his buffets that I see him deal, but ever meseemeth it should not\nbe he, for that he beareth the red sleeve upon his head; for I wist him\nnever bear token at no jousts, of lady nor gentlewoman. Let him be,\nsaid King Arthur, he will be better known, and do more, or ever he\ndepart.\nThen the party that was against King Arthur were well comforted, and\nthen they held them together that beforehand were sore rebuked. Then\nSir Bors, Sir Ector de Maris, and Sir Lionel called unto them the\nknights of their blood, as Sir Blamore de Ganis, Sir Bleoberis, Sir\nAliduke, Sir Galihud, Sir Galihodin, Sir Bellangere le Beuse. So these\nnine knights of Sir Launcelot\u2019s kin thrust in mightily, for they were\nall noble knights; and they, of great hate and despite that they had\nunto him, thought to rebuke that noble knight Sir Launcelot, and Sir\nLavaine, for they knew them not; and so they came hurling together, and\nsmote down many knights of Northgalis and of Northumberland. And when\nSir Launcelot saw them fare so, he gat a spear in his hand; and there\nencountered with him all at once Sir Bors, Sir Ector, and Sir Lionel,\nand all they three smote him at once with their spears. And with force\nof themself they smote Sir Launcelot\u2019s horse to the earth; and by\nmisfortune Sir Bors smote Sir Launcelot through the shield into the\nside, and the spear brake, and the head left still in his side.\nWhen Sir Lavaine saw his master lie on the ground, he ran to the King\nof Scots and smote him to the earth; and by great force he took his\nhorse, and brought him to Sir Launcelot, and maugre of them all he made\nhim to mount upon that horse. And then Launcelot gat a spear in his\nhand, and there he smote Sir Bors, horse and man, to the earth. In the\nsame wise he served Sir Ector and Sir Lionel; and Sir Lavaine smote\ndown Sir Blamore de Ganis. And then Sir Launcelot drew his sword, for\nhe felt himself so sore y-hurt that he weened there to have had his\ndeath. And then he smote Sir Bleoberis such a buffet on the helm that\nhe fell down to the earth in a swoon. And in the same wise he served\nSir Aliduke and Sir Galihud. And Sir Lavaine smote down Sir Bellangere,\nthat was the son of Alisander le Orphelin.\nAnd by this was Sir Bors horsed, and then he came with Sir Ector and\nSir Lionel, and all they three smote with swords upon Sir Launcelot\u2019s\nhelmet. And when he felt their buffets and his wound, the which was so\ngrievous, then he thought to do what he might while he might endure.\nAnd then he gave Sir Bors such a buffet that he made him bow his head\npassing low; and therewithal he raced off his helm, and might have\nslain him; and so pulled him down, and in the same wise he served Sir\nEctor and Sir Lionel. For as the book saith he might have slain them,\nbut when he saw their visages his heart might not serve him thereto,\nbut left them there. And then afterward he hurled into the thickest\npress of them all, and did there the marvelloust deeds of arms that\never man saw or heard speak of, and ever Sir Lavaine, the good knight,\nwith him. And there Sir Launcelot with his sword smote down and pulled\ndown, as the French book maketh mention, mo than thirty knights, and\nthe most part were of the Table Round; and Sir Lavaine did full well\nthat day, for he smote down ten knights of the Table Round.\nCHAPTER XII. How Sir Launcelot and Sir Lavaine departed out of the\nfield, and in what jeopardy Launcelot was.\nMercy Jesu, said Sir Gawaine to Arthur, I marvel what knight that he is\nwith the red sleeve. Sir, said King Arthur, he will be known or he\ndepart. And then the king blew unto lodging, and the prize was given by\nheralds unto the knight with the white shield that bare the red sleeve.\nThen came the King with the Hundred Knights, the King of Northgalis,\nand the King of Northumberland, and Sir Galahad, the haut prince, and\nsaid unto Sir Launcelot: Fair knight, God thee bless, for much have ye\ndone this day for us, therefore we pray you that ye will come with us\nthat ye may receive the honour and the prize as ye have worshipfully\ndeserved it. My fair lords, said Sir Launcelot, wit you well if I have\ndeserved thanks I have sore bought it, and that me repenteth, for I am\nlike never to escape with my life; therefore, fair lords, I pray you\nthat ye will suffer me to depart where me liketh, for I am sore hurt. I\ntake none force of none honour, for I had liefer to repose me than to\nbe lord of all the world. And therewithal he groaned piteously, and\nrode a great wallop away-ward from them until he came under a wood\u2019s\nside.\nAnd when he saw that he was from the field nigh a mile, that he was\nsure he might not be seen, then he said with an high voice: O gentle\nknight, Sir Lavaine, help me that this truncheon were out of my side,\nfor it sticketh so sore that it nigh slayeth me. O mine own lord, said\nSir Lavaine, I would fain do that might please you, but I dread me sore\nan I pull out the truncheon that ye shall be in peril of death. I\ncharge you, said Sir Launcelot, as ye love me, draw it out. And\ntherewithal he descended from his horse, and right so did Sir Lavaine;\nand forthwithal Sir Lavaine drew the truncheon out of his side, and he\ngave a great shriek and a marvellous grisly groan, and the blood brast\nout nigh a pint at once, that at the last he sank down upon his\nbuttocks, and so swooned pale and deadly. Alas, said Sir Lavaine, what\nshall I do? And then he turned Sir Launcelot into the wind, but so he\nlay there nigh half an hour as he had been dead.\nAnd so at the last Sir Launcelot cast up his eyes, and said: O Lavaine,\nhelp me that I were on my horse, for here is fast by within this two\nmile a gentle hermit that sometime was a full noble knight and a great\nlord of possessions. And for great goodness he hath taken him to wilful\npoverty, and forsaken many lands, and his name is Sir Baudwin of\nBrittany, and he is a full noble surgeon and a good leech. Now let see,\nhelp me up that I were there, for ever my heart giveth me that I shall\nnever die of my cousin-germain\u2019s hands. And then with great pain Sir\nLavaine halp him upon his horse. And then they rode a great wallop\ntogether, and ever Sir Launcelot bled that it ran down to the earth;\nand so by fortune they came to that hermitage the which was under a\nwood, and a great cliff on the other side, and a fair water running\nunder it. And then Sir Lavaine beat on the gate with the butt of his\nspear, and cried fast: Let in for Jesu\u2019s sake.\nAnd there came a fair child to them, and asked them what they would.\nFair son, said Sir Lavaine, go and pray thy lord, the hermit, for God\u2019s\nsake to let in here a knight that is full sore wounded; and this day\ntell thy lord I saw him do more deeds of arms than ever I heard say\nthat any man did. So the child went in lightly, and then he brought the\nhermit, the which was a passing good man. When Sir Lavaine saw him he\nprayed him for God\u2019s sake of succour. What knight is he? said the\nhermit. Is he of the house of King Arthur, or not? I wot not, said Sir\nLavaine, what is he, nor what is his name, but well I wot I saw him do\nmarvellously this day as of deeds of arms. On whose party was he? said\nthe hermit. Sir, said Sir Lavaine, he was this day against King Arthur,\nand there he won the prize of all the knights of the Round Table. I\nhave seen the day, said the hermit, I would have loved him the worse\nbecause he was against my lord, King Arthur, for sometime I was one of\nthe fellowship of the Round Table, but I thank God now I am otherwise\ndisposed. But where is he? let me see him. Then Sir Lavaine brought the\nhermit to him.\nCHAPTER XIII. How Launcelot was brought to an hermit for to be healed\nof his wound, and of other matters.\nAnd when the hermit beheld him, as he sat leaning upon his saddle-bow\never bleeding piteously, and ever the knight-hermit thought that he\nshould know him, but he could not bring him to knowledge because he was\nso pale for bleeding. What knight are ye, said the hermit, and where\nwere ye born? My fair lord, said Sir Launcelot, I am a stranger and a\nknight adventurous, that laboureth throughout many realms for to win\nworship. Then the hermit advised him better, and saw by a wound on his\ncheek that he was Sir Launcelot. Alas, said the hermit, mine own lord\nwhy lain you your name from me? Forsooth I ought to know you of right,\nfor ye are the most noblest knight of the world, for well I know you\nfor Sir Launcelot. Sir, said he, sith ye know me, help me an ye may,\nfor God\u2019s sake, for I would be out of this pain at once, either to\ndeath or to life. Have ye no doubt, said the hermit, ye shall live and\nfare right well. And so the hermit called to him two of his servants,\nand so he and his servants bare him into the hermitage, and lightly\nunarmed him, and laid him in his bed. And then anon the hermit\nstaunched his blood, and made him to drink good wine, so that Sir\nLauncelot was well refreshed and knew himself; for in those days it was\nnot the guise of hermits as is nowadays, for there were none hermits in\nthose days but that they had been men of worship and of prowess; and\nthose hermits held great household, and refreshed people that were in\ndistress.\nNow turn we unto King Arthur, and leave we Sir Launcelot in the\nhermitage. So when the kings were come together on both parties, and\nthe great feast should be holden, King Arthur asked the King of\nNorthgalis and their fellowship, where was that knight that bare the\nred sleeve: Bring him afore me that he may have his laud, and honour,\nand the prize, as it is right. Then spake Sir Galahad, the haut prince,\nand the King with the Hundred Knights: We suppose that knight is\nmischieved, and that he is never like to see you nor none of us all,\nand that is the greatest pity that ever we wist of any knight. Alas,\nsaid Arthur, how may this be, is he so hurt? What is his name? said\nKing Arthur. Truly, said they all, we know not his name, nor from\nwhence he came, nor whither he would. Alas, said the king, this be to\nme the worst tidings that came to me this seven year, for I would not\nfor all the lands I wield to know and wit it were so that that noble\nknight were slain. Know ye him? said they all. As for that, said\nArthur, whether I know him or know him not, ye shall not know for me\nwhat man he is, but Almighty Jesu send me good tidings of him. And so\nsaid they all. By my head, said Sir Gawaine, if it so be that the good\nknight be so sore hurt, it is great damage and pity to all this land,\nfor he is one of the noblest knights that ever I saw in a field handle\na spear or a sword; and if he may be found I shall find him, for I am\nsure he nis not far from this town. Bear you well, said King Arthur, an\nye may find him, unless that he be in such a plight that he may not\nwield himself. Jesu defend, said Sir Gawaine, but wit I shall what he\nis, an I may find him.\nRight so Sir Gawaine took a squire with him upon hackneys, and rode all\nabout Camelot within six or seven mile, but so he came again and could\nhear no word of him. Then within two days King Arthur and all the\nfellowship returned unto London again. And so as they rode by the way\nit happed Sir Gawaine at Astolat to lodge with Sir Bernard thereas was\nSir Launcelot lodged. And so as Sir Gawaine was in his chamber to\nrepose him Sir Bernard, the old baron, came unto him, and his daughter\nElaine, to cheer him and to ask him what tidings, and who did best at\nthat tournament of Winchester. So God me help, said Sir Gawaine, there\nwere two knights that bare two white shields, but the one of them bare\na red sleeve upon his head, and certainly he was one of the best\nknights that ever I saw joust in field. For I dare say, said Sir\nGawaine, that one knight with the red sleeve smote down forty knights\nof the Table Round, and his fellow did right well and worshipfully. Now\nblessed be God, said the Fair Maiden of Astolat, that that knight sped\nso well, for he is the man in the world that I first loved, and truly\nhe shall be last that ever I shall love. Now, fair maid, said Sir\nGawaine, is that good knight your love? Certainly sir, said she, wit ye\nwell he is my love. Then know ye his name? said Sir Gawaine. Nay truly,\nsaid the damosel, I know not his name nor from whence he cometh, but to\nsay that I love him, I promise you and God that I love him. How had ye\nknowledge of him first? said Sir Gawaine.\nCHAPTER XIV. How Sir Gawaine was lodged with the lord of Astolat, and\nthere had knowledge that it was Sir Launcelot that bare the red sleeve.\nThen she told him as ye have heard to-fore, and how her father betook\nhim her brother to do him service, and how her father lent him her\nbrother\u2019s, Sir Tirre\u2019s, shield: And here with me he left his own\nshield. For what cause did he so? said Sir Gawaine. For this cause,\nsaid the damosel, for his shield was too well known among many noble\nknights. Ah fair damosel, said Sir Gawaine, please it you let me have a\nsight of that shield. Sir, said she, it is in my chamber, covered with\na case, and if ye will come with me ye shall see it. Not so, said Sir\nBernard till his daughter, let send for it.\nSo when the shield was come, Sir Gawaine took off the case, and when he\nbeheld that shield he knew anon that it was Sir Launcelot\u2019s shield, and\nhis own arms. Ah Jesu mercy, said Sir Gawaine, now is my heart more\nheavier than ever it was to-fore. Why? said Elaine. For I have great\ncause, said Sir Gawaine. Is that knight that oweth this shield your\nlove? Yea truly, said she, my love he is, God would I were his love. So\nGod me speed, said Sir Gawaine, fair damosel ye have right, for an he\nbe your love ye love the most honourable knight of the world, and the\nman of most worship. So me thought ever, said the damosel, for never or\nthat time, for no knight that ever I saw, loved I never none erst. God\ngrant, said Sir Gawaine, that either of you may rejoice other, but that\nis in a great adventure. But truly, said Sir Gawaine unto the damosel,\nye may say ye have a fair grace, for why I have known that noble knight\nthis four-and-twenty year, and never or that day, I nor none other\nknight, I dare make good, saw nor heard say that ever he bare token or\nsign of no lady, gentlewoman, ne maiden, at no jousts nor tournament.\nAnd therefore fair maiden, said Sir Gawaine, ye are much beholden to\nhim to give him thanks. But I dread me, said Sir Gawaine, that ye shall\nnever see him in this world, and that is great pity that ever was of\nearthly knight. Alas, said she, how may this be, is he slain? I say not\nso, said Sir Gawaine, but wit ye well he is grievously wounded, by all\nmanner of signs, and by men\u2019s sight more likelier to be dead than to be\nalive; and wit ye well he is the noble knight, Sir Launcelot, for by\nthis shield I know him. Alas, said the Fair Maiden of Astolat, how may\nthis be, and what was his hurt? Truly, said Sir Gawaine, the man in the\nworld that loved him best hurt him so; and I dare say, said Sir\nGawaine, an that knight that hurt him knew the very certainty that he\nhad hurt Sir Launcelot, it would be the most sorrow that ever came to\nhis heart.\nNow fair father, said then Elaine, I require you give me leave to ride\nand to seek him, or else I wot well I shall go out of my mind, for I\nshall never stint till that I find him and my brother, Sir Lavaine. Do\nas it liketh you, said her father, for me sore repenteth of the hurt of\nthat noble knight. Right so the maid made her ready, and before Sir\nGawaine, making great dole.\nThen on the morn Sir Gawaine came to King Arthur, and told him how he\nhad found Sir Launcelot\u2019s shield in the keeping of the Fair Maiden of\nAstolat. All that knew I aforehand, said King Arthur, and that caused\nme I would not suffer you to have ado at the great jousts, for I\nespied, said King Arthur, when he came in till his lodging full late in\nthe evening in Astolat. But marvel have I, said Arthur, that ever he\nwould bear any sign of any damosel, for or now I never heard say nor\nknew that ever he bare any token of none earthly woman. By my head,\nsaid Sir Gawaine, the Fair Maiden of Astolat loveth him marvellously\nwell; what it meaneth I cannot say, and she is ridden after to seek\nhim. So the king and all came to London, and there Sir Gawaine openly\ndisclosed to all the court that it was Sir Launcelot that jousted best.\nCHAPTER XV. Of the sorrow that Sir Bors had for the hurt of Launcelot;\nand of the anger that the queen had because Launcelot bare the sleeve.\nAnd when Sir Bors heard that, wit ye well he was an heavy man, and so\nwere all his kinsmen. But when Queen Guenever wist that Sir Launcelot\nbare the red sleeve of the Fair Maiden of Astolat she was nigh out of\nher mind for wrath. And then she sent for Sir Bors de Ganis in all the\nhaste that might be. So when Sir Bors was come to-fore the queen, then\nshe said: Ah Sir Bors, have ye heard say how falsely Sir Launcelot hath\nbetrayed me? Alas madam, said Sir Bors, I am afeard he hath betrayed\nhimself and us all. No force, said the queen, though he be destroyed,\nfor he is a false traitor-knight. Madam, said Sir Bors, I pray you say\nye not so, for wit you well I may not hear such language of him. Why\nSir Bors, said she, should I not call him traitor when he bare the red\nsleeve upon his head at Winchester, at the great jousts? Madam, said\nSir Bors, that sleeve-bearing repenteth me sore, but I dare say he did\nit to none evil intent, but for this cause he bare the red sleeve that\nnone of his blood should know him. For or then we, nor none of us all,\nnever knew that ever he bare token or sign of maid, lady, ne\ngentlewoman. Fie on him, said the queen, yet for all his pride and\nbobaunce there ye proved yourself his better. Nay madam, say ye never\nmore so, for he beat me and my fellows, and might have slain us an he\nhad would. Fie on him, said the queen, for I heard Sir Gawaine say\nbefore my lord Arthur that it were marvel to tell the great love that\nis between the Fair Maiden of Astolat and him. Madam, said Sir Bors, I\nmay not warn Sir Gawaine to say what it pleased him; but I dare say, as\nfor my lord, Sir Launcelot, that he loveth no lady, gentlewoman, nor\nmaid, but all he loveth in like much. And therefore madam, said Sir\nBors, ye may say what ye will, but wit ye well I will haste me to seek\nhim, and find him wheresomever he be, and God send me good tidings of\nhim. And so leave we them there, and speak we of Sir Launcelot that lay\nin great peril.\nSo as fair Elaine came to Winchester she sought there all about, and by\nfortune Sir Lavaine was ridden to play him, to enchafe his horse. And\nanon as Elaine saw him she knew him, and then she cried aloud until\nhim. And when he heard her anon he came to her, and then she asked her\nbrother how did my lord, Sir Launcelot. Who told you, sister, that my\nlord\u2019s name was Sir Launcelot? Then she told him how Sir Gawaine by his\nshield knew him. So they rode together till that they came to the\nhermitage, and anon she alighted.\nSo Sir Lavaine brought her in to Sir Launcelot; and when she saw him\nlie so sick and pale in his bed she might not speak, but suddenly she\nfell to the earth down suddenly in a swoon, and there she lay a great\nwhile. And when she was relieved, she shrieked and said: My lord, Sir\nLauncelot, alas why be ye in this plight? and then she swooned again.\nAnd then Sir Launcelot prayed Sir Lavaine to take her up: And bring her\nto me. And when she came to herself Sir Launcelot kissed her, and said:\nFair maiden, why fare ye thus? ye put me to pain; wherefore make ye no\nmore such cheer, for an ye be come to comfort me ye be right welcome;\nand of this little hurt that I have I shall be right hastily whole by\nthe grace of God. But I marvel, said Sir Launcelot, who told you my\nname? Then the fair maiden told him all how Sir Gawaine was lodged with\nher father: And there by your shield he discovered your name. Alas,\nsaid Sir Launcelot, that me repenteth that my name is known, for I am\nsure it will turn unto anger. And then Sir Launcelot compassed in his\nmind that Sir Gawaine would tell Queen Guenever how he bare the red\nsleeve, and for whom; that he wist well would turn into great anger.\nSo this maiden Elaine never went from Sir Launcelot, but watched him\nday and night, and did such attendance to him, that the French book\nsaith there was never woman did more kindlier for man than she. Then\nSir Launcelot prayed Sir Lavaine to make aspies in Winchester for Sir\nBors if he came there, and told him by what tokens he should know him,\nby a wound in his forehead. For well I am sure, said Sir Launcelot,\nthat Sir Bors will seek me, for he is the same good knight that hurt\nme.\nCHAPTER XVI. How Sir Bors sought Launcelot and found him in the\nhermitage, and of the lamentation between them.\nNow turn we unto Sir Bors de Ganis that came unto Winchester to seek\nafter his cousin Sir Launcelot. And so when he came to Winchester, anon\nthere were men that Sir Lavaine had made to lie in a watch for such a\nman, and anon Sir Lavaine had warning; and then Sir Lavaine came to\nWinchester and found Sir Bors, and there he told him what he was, and\nwith whom he was, and what was his name. Now fair knight, said Sir\nBors, I require you that ye will bring me to my lord, Sir Launcelot.\nSir, said Sir Lavaine, take your horse, and within this hour ye shall\nsee him. And so they departed, and came to the hermitage.\nAnd when Sir Bors saw Sir Launcelot lie in his bed pale and\ndiscoloured, anon Sir Bors lost his countenance, and for kindness and\npity he might not speak, but wept tenderly a great while. And then when\nhe might speak he said thus: O my lord, Sir Launcelot, God you bless,\nand send you hasty recover; and full heavy am I of my misfortune and of\nmine unhappiness, for now I may call myself unhappy. And I dread me\nthat God is greatly displeased with me, that he would suffer me to have\nsuch a shame for to hurt you that are all our leader, and all our\nworship; and therefore I call myself unhappy. Alas that ever such a\ncaitiff-knight as I am should have power by unhappiness to hurt the\nmost noblest knight of the world. Where I so shamefully set upon you\nand overcharged you, and where ye might have slain me, ye saved me; and\nso did not I, for I and your blood did to you our utterance. I marvel,\nsaid Sir Bors, that my heart or my blood would serve me, wherefore my\nlord, Sir Launcelot, I ask your mercy. Fair cousin, said Sir Launcelot,\nye be right welcome; and wit ye well, overmuch ye say for to please me,\nthe which pleaseth me not, for why I have the same I sought; for I\nwould with pride have overcome you all, and there in my pride I was\nnear slain, and that was in mine own default, for I might have given\nyou warning of my being there. And then had I had no hurt, for it is an\nold said saw, there is hard battle thereas kin and friends do battle\neither against other, there may be no mercy but mortal war. Therefore,\nfair cousin, said Sir Launcelot, let this speech overpass, and all\nshall be welcome that God sendeth; and let us leave off this matter and\nlet us speak of some rejoicing, for this that is done may not be\nundone; and let us find a remedy how soon that I may be whole.\nThen Sir Bors leaned upon his bedside, and told Sir Launcelot how the\nqueen was passing wroth with him, because he wore the red sleeve at the\ngreat jousts; and there Sir Bors told him all how Sir Gawaine\ndiscovered it: By your shield that ye left with the Fair Maiden of\nAstolat. Then is the queen wroth, said Sir Launcelot and therefore am I\nright heavy, for I deserved no wrath, for all that I did was because I\nwould not be known. Right so excused I you, said Sir Bors, but all was\nin vain, for she said more largelier to me than I to you now. But is\nthis she, said Sir Bors, that is so busy about you, that men call the\nFair Maiden of Astolat? She it is, said Sir Launcelot, that by no means\nI cannot put her from me. Why should ye put her from you? said Sir\nBors, she is a passing fair damosel, and a well beseen, and well\ntaught; and God would, fair cousin, said Sir Bors, that ye could love\nher, but as to that I may not, nor I dare not, counsel you. But I see\nwell, said Sir Bors, by her diligence about you that she loveth you\nentirely. That me repenteth, said Sir Launcelot. Sir, said Sir Bors,\nshe is not the first that hath lost her pain upon you, and that is the\nmore pity: and so they talked of many more things. And so within three\ndays or four Sir Launcelot was big and strong again.\nCHAPTER XVII. How Sir Launcelot armed him to assay if he might bear\narms, and how his wounds brast out again.\nThen Sir Bors told Sir Launcelot how there was sworn a great tournament\nand jousts betwixt King Arthur and the King of Northgalis, that should\nbe upon All Hallowmass Day, beside Winchester. Is that truth? said Sir\nLauncelot; then shall ye abide with me still a little while until that\nI be whole, for I feel myself right big and strong. Blessed be God,\nsaid Sir Bors. Then were they there nigh a month together, and ever\nthis maiden Elaine did ever her diligent labour night and day unto Sir\nLauncelot, that there was never child nor wife more meeker to her\nfather and husband than was that Fair Maiden of Astolat; wherefore Sir\nBors was greatly pleased with her.\nSo upon a day, by the assent of Sir Launcelot, Sir Bors, and Sir\nLavaine, they made the hermit to seek in woods for divers herbs, and so\nSir Launcelot made fair Elaine to gather herbs for him to make him a\nbain. In the meanwhile Sir Launcelot made him to arm him at all pieces;\nand there he thought to assay his armour and his spear, for his hurt or\nnot. And so when he was upon his horse he stirred him fiercely, and the\nhorse was passing lusty and fresh because he was not laboured a month\nafore. And then Sir Launcelot couched that spear in the rest. That\ncourser leapt mightily when he felt the spurs; and he that was upon\nhim, the which was the noblest horse of the world, strained him\nmightily and stably, and kept still the spear in the rest; and\ntherewith Sir Launcelot strained himself so straitly, with so great\nforce, to get the horse forward, that the button of his wound brast\nboth within and without; and therewithal the blood came out so fiercely\nthat he felt himself so feeble that he might not sit upon his horse.\nAnd then Sir Launcelot cried unto Sir Bors: Ah, Sir Bors and Sir\nLavaine, help, for I am come to mine end. And therewith he fell down on\nthe one side to the earth like a dead corpse. And then Sir Bors and Sir\nLavaine came to him with sorrow-making out of measure. And so by\nfortune the maiden Elaine heard their mourning, and then she came\nthither; and when she found Sir Launcelot there armed in that place she\ncried and wept as she had been wood; and then she kissed him, and did\nwhat she might to awake him. And then she rebuked her brother and Sir\nBors, and called them false traitors, why they would take him out of\nhis bed; there she cried, and said she would appeal them of his death.\nWith this came the holy hermit, Sir Baudwin of Brittany, and when he\nfound Sir Launcelot in that plight he said but little, but wit ye well\nhe was wroth; and then he bade them: Let us have him in. And so they\nall bare him unto the hermitage, and unarmed him, and laid him in his\nbed; and evermore his wound bled piteously, but he stirred no limb of\nhim. Then the knight-hermit put a thing in his nose and a little deal\nof water in his mouth. And then Sir Launcelot waked of his swoon, and\nthen the hermit staunched his bleeding. And when he might speak he\nasked Sir Launcelot why he put his life in jeopardy. Sir, said Sir\nLauncelot, because I weened I had been strong, and also Sir Bors told\nme that there should be at All Hallowmass a great jousts betwixt King\nArthur and the King of Northgalis, and therefore I thought to assay it\nmyself whether I might be there or not. Ah, Sir Launcelot, said the\nhermit, your heart and your courage will never be done until your last\nday, but ye shall do now by my counsel. Let Sir Bors depart from you,\nand let him do at that tournament what he may: And by the grace of God,\nsaid the knight-hermit, by that the tournament be done and ye come\nhither again, Sir Launcelot shall be as whole as ye, so that he will be\ngoverned by me.\nCHAPTER XVIII. How Sir Bors returned and told tidings of Sir Launcelot;\nand of the tourney, and to whom the prize was given.\nThen Sir Bors made him ready to depart from Sir Launcelot; and then Sir\nLauncelot said: Fair cousin, Sir Bors, recommend me unto all them unto\nwhom me ought to recommend me unto. And I pray you, enforce yourself at\nthat jousts that ye may be best, for my love; and here shall I abide\nyou at the mercy of God till ye come again. And so Sir Bors departed\nand came to the court of King Arthur, and told them in what place he\nhad left Sir Launcelot. That me repenteth, said the king, but since he\nshall have his life we all may thank God. And there Sir Bors told the\nqueen in what jeopardy Sir Launcelot was when he would assay his horse.\nAnd all that he did, madam, was for the love of you, because he would\nhave been at this tournament. Fie on him, recreant knight, said the\nqueen, for wit ye well I am right sorry an he shall have his life. His\nlife shall he have, said Sir Bors, and who that would otherwise, except\nyou, madam, we that be of his blood should help to short their lives.\nBut madam, said Sir Bors, ye have been oft-times displeased with my\nlord, Sir Launcelot, but at all times at the end ye find him a true\nknight: and so he departed.\nAnd then every knight of the Round Table that were there at that time\npresent made them ready to be at that jousts at All Hallowmass, and\nthither drew many knights of divers countries. And as All Hallowmass\ndrew near, thither came the King of Northgalis, and the King with the\nHundred Knights, and Sir Galahad, the haut prince, of Surluse, and\nthither came King Anguish of Ireland, and the King of Scots. So these\nthree kings came on King Arthur\u2019s party. And so that day Sir Gawaine\ndid great deeds of arms, and began first. And the heralds numbered that\nSir Gawaine smote down twenty knights. Then Sir Bors de Ganis came in\nthe same time, and he was numbered that he smote down twenty knights;\nand therefore the prize was given betwixt them both, for they began\nfirst and longest endured. Also Sir Gareth, as the book saith, did that\nday great deeds of arms, for he smote down and pulled down thirty\nknights. But when he had done these deeds he tarried not but so\ndeparted, and therefore he lost his prize. And Sir Palomides did great\ndeeds of arms that day, for he smote down twenty knights, but he\ndeparted suddenly, and men deemed Sir Gareth and he rode together to\nsome manner adventures.\nSo when this tournament was done Sir Bors departed and rode till he\ncame to Sir Launcelot, his cousin; and then he found him walking on his\nfeet, and there either made great joy of other; and so Sir Bors told\nSir Launcelot of all the Jousts like as ye have heard. I marvel, said\nSir Launcelot, that Sir Gareth, when he had done such deeds of arms,\nthat he would not tarry. Thereof we marvelled all, said Sir Bors, for\nbut if it were you, or Sir Tristram, or Sir Lamorak de Galis, I saw\nnever knight bear down so many in so little a while as did Sir Gareth:\nand anon he was gone we wist not where. By my head, said Sir Launcelot,\nhe is a noble knight, and a mighty man and well breathed; and if he\nwere well assayed, said Sir Launcelot I would deem he were good enough\nfor any knight that beareth the life; and he is a gentle knight,\ncourteous, true, and bounteous, meek, and mild, and in him is no manner\nof mal engin, but plain, faithful, and true.\nSo then they made them ready to depart from the hermit. And so upon a\nmorn they took their horses and Elaine le Blank with them; and when\nthey came to Astolat there were they well lodged, and had great cheer\nof Sir Bernard, the old baron, and of Sir Tirre, his son. And so upon\nthe morn when Sir Launcelot should depart, fair Elaine brought her\nfather with her, and Sir Lavaine, and Sir Tirre, and thus she said:\nCHAPTER XIX. Of the great lamentation of the Fair Maid of Astolat when\nLauncelot should depart, and how she died for his love.\nMy lord, Sir Launcelot, now I see ye will depart; now fair knight and\ncourteous knight, have mercy upon me, and suffer me not to die for thy\nlove. What would ye that I did? said Sir Launcelot. I would have you to\nmy husband, said Elaine. Fair damosel, I thank you, said Sir Launcelot,\nbut truly, said he, I cast me never to be wedded man. Then, fair\nknight, said she, will ye be my paramour? Jesu defend me, said Sir\nLauncelot, for then I rewarded your father and your brother full evil\nfor their great goodness. Alas, said she, then must I die for your\nlove. Ye shall not so, said Sir Launcelot, for wit ye well, fair\nmaiden, I might have been married an I had would, but I never applied\nme to be married yet; but because, fair damosel, that ye love me as ye\nsay ye do, I will for your good will and kindness show you some\ngoodness, and that is this, that wheresomever ye will beset your heart\nupon some good knight that will wed you, I shall give you together a\nthousand pound yearly to you and to your heirs; thus much will I give\nyou, fair madam, for your kindness, and always while I live to be your\nown knight. Of all this, said the maiden, I will none, for but if ye\nwill wed me, or else be my paramour at the least, wit you well, Sir\nLauncelot, my good days are done. Fair damosel, said Sir Launcelot, of\nthese two things ye must pardon me.\nThen she shrieked shrilly, and fell down in a swoon; and then women\nbare her into her chamber, and there she made over much sorrow; and\nthen Sir Launcelot would depart, and there he asked Sir Lavaine what he\nwould do. What should I do, said Sir Lavaine, but follow you, but if ye\ndrive me from you, or command me to go from you. Then came Sir Bernard\nto Sir Launcelot and said to him: I cannot see but that my daughter\nElaine will die for your sake. I may not do withal, said Sir Launcelot,\nfor that me sore repenteth, for I report me to yourself, that my\nproffer is fair; and me repenteth, said Sir Launcelot, that she loveth\nme as she doth; I was never the causer of it, for I report me to your\nson I early ne late proffered her bount\u00e9 nor fair behests; and as for\nme, said Sir Launcelot, I dare do all that a knight should do that she\nis a clean maiden for me, both for deed and for will. And I am right\nheavy of her distress, for she is a full fair maiden, good and gentle,\nand well taught. Father, said Sir Lavaine, I dare make good she is a\nclean maiden as for my lord Sir Launcelot; but she doth as I do, for\nsithen I first saw my lord Sir Launcelot, I could never depart from\nhim, nor nought I will an I may follow him.\nThen Sir Launcelot took his leave, and so they departed, and came unto\nWinchester. And when Arthur wist that Sir Launcelot was come whole and\nsound the king made great joy of him, and so did Sir Gawaine and all\nthe knights of the Round Table except Sir Agravaine and Sir Mordred.\nAlso Queen Guenever was wood wroth with Sir Launcelot, and would by no\nmeans speak with him, but estranged herself from him; and Sir Launcelot\nmade all the means that he might for to speak with the queen, but it\nwould not be.\nNow speak we of the Fair Maiden of Astolat that made such sorrow day\nand night that she never slept, ate, nor drank, and ever she made her\ncomplaint unto Sir Launcelot. So when she had thus endured a ten days,\nthat she feebled so that she must needs pass out of this world, then\nshe shrived her clean, and received her Creator. And ever she\ncomplained still upon Sir Launcelot. Then her ghostly father bade her\nleave such thoughts. Then she said, why should I leave such thoughts?\nAm I not an earthly woman? And all the while the breath is in my body I\nmay complain me, for my belief is I do none offence though I love an\nearthly man; and I take God to my record I loved never none but Sir\nLauncelot du Lake, nor never shall, and a clean maiden I am for him and\nfor all other; and sithen it is the sufferance of God that I shall die\nfor the love of so noble a knight, I beseech the High Father of Heaven\nto have mercy upon my soul, and upon mine innumerable pains that I\nsuffered may be allegeance of part of my sins. For sweet Lord Jesu,\nsaid the fair maiden, I take Thee to record, on Thee I was never great\noffencer against thy laws; but that I loved this noble knight, Sir\nLauncelot, out of measure, and of myself, good Lord, I might not\nwithstand the fervent love wherefore I have my death.\nAnd then she called her father, Sir Bernard, and her brother, Sir\nTirre, and heartily she prayed her father that her brother might write\na letter like as she did indite it: and so her father granted her. And\nwhen the letter was written word by word like as she devised, then she\nprayed her father that she might be watched until she were dead. And\nwhile my body is hot let this letter be put in my right hand, and my\nhand bound fast with the letter until that I be cold; and let me be put\nin a fair bed with all the richest clothes that I have about me, and so\nlet my bed and all my richest clothes be laid with me in a chariot unto\nthe next place where Thames is; and there let me be put within a\nbarget, and but one man with me, such as ye trust to steer me thither,\nand that my barget be covered with black samite over and over: thus\nfather I beseech you let it be done. So her father granted it her\nfaithfully, all things should be done like as she had devised. Then her\nfather and her brother made great dole, for when this was done anon she\ndied. And so when she was dead the corpse and the bed all was led the\nnext way unto Thames, and there a man, and the corpse, and all, were\nput into Thames; and so the man steered the barget unto Westminster,\nand there he rowed a great while to and fro or any espied it.\nCHAPTER XX. How the corpse of the Maid of Astolat arrived to-fore King\nArthur, and of the burying, and how Sir Launcelot offered the\nmass-penny.\nSo by fortune King Arthur and the Queen Guenever were speaking together\nat a window, and so as they looked into Thames they espied this black\nbarget, and had marvel what it meant. Then the king called Sir Kay, and\nshowed it him. Sir, said Sir Kay, wit you well there is some new\ntidings. Go thither, said the king to Sir Kay, and take with you Sir\nBrandiles and Agravaine, and bring me ready word what is there. Then\nthese four knights departed and came to the barget and went in; and\nthere they found the fairest corpse lying in a rich bed, and a poor man\nsitting in the barget\u2019s end, and no word would he speak. So these four\nknights returned unto the king again, and told him what they found.\nThat fair corpse will I see, said the king. And so then the king took\nthe queen by the hand, and went thither.\nThen the king made the barget to be holden fast, and then the king and\nthe queen entered with certain knights with them; and there he saw the\nfairest woman lie in a rich bed, covered unto her middle with many rich\nclothes, and all was of cloth of gold, and she lay as though she had\nsmiled. Then the queen espied a letter in her right hand, and told it\nto the king. Then the king took it and said: Now am I sure this letter\nwill tell what she was, and why she is come hither. So then the king\nand the queen went out of the barget, and so commanded a certain man to\nwait upon the barget.\nAnd so when the king was come within his chamber, he called many\nknights about him, and said that he would wit openly what was written\nwithin that letter. Then the king brake it, and made a clerk to read\nit, and this was the intent of the letter. Most noble knight, Sir\nLauncelot, now hath death made us two at debate for your love. I was\nyour lover, that men called the Fair Maiden of Astolat; therefore unto\nall ladies I make my moan, yet pray for my soul and bury me at least,\nand offer ye my mass-penny: this is my last request. And a clean maiden\nI died, I take God to witness: pray for my soul, Sir Launcelot, as thou\nart peerless. This was all the substance in the letter. And when it was\nread, the king, the queen, and all the knights wept for pity of the\ndoleful complaints. Then was Sir Launcelot sent for; and when he was\ncome King Arthur made the letter to be read to him.\nAnd when Sir Launcelot heard it word by word, he said: My lord Arthur,\nwit ye well I am right heavy of the death of this fair damosel: God\nknoweth I was never causer of her death by my willing, and that will I\nreport me to her own brother: here he is, Sir Lavaine. I will not say\nnay, said Sir Launcelot, but that she was both fair and good, and much\nI was beholden unto her, but she loved me out of measure. Ye might have\nshewed her, said the queen, some bounty and gentleness that might have\npreserved her life. Madam, said Sir Launcelot, she would none other\nways be answered but that she would be my wife, outher else my\nparamour; and of these two I would not grant her, but I proffered her,\nfor her good love that she shewed me, a thousand pound yearly to her,\nand to her heirs, and to wed any manner knight that she could find best\nto love in her heart. For madam, said Sir Launcelot, I love not to be\nconstrained to love; for love must arise of the heart, and not by no\nconstraint. That is truth, said the king, and many knight\u2019s love is\nfree in himself, and never will be bounden, for where he is bounden he\nlooseth himself.\nThen said the king unto Sir Launcelot: It will be your worship that ye\noversee that she be interred worshipfully. Sir, said Sir Launcelot,\nthat shall be done as I can best devise. And so many knights yede\nthither to behold that fair maiden. And so upon the morn she was\ninterred richly, and Sir Launcelot offered her mass-penny; and all the\nknights of the Table Round that were there at that time offered with\nSir Launcelot. And then the poor man went again with the barget. Then\nthe queen sent for Sir Launcelot, and prayed him of mercy, for why that\nshe had been wroth with him causeless. This is not the first time, said\nSir Launcelot, that ye had been displeased with me causeless, but,\nmadam, ever I must suffer you, but what sorrow I endure I take no\nforce. So this passed on all that winter, with all manner of hunting\nand hawking, and jousts and tourneys were many betwixt many great\nlords, and ever in all places Sir Lavaine gat great worship, so that he\nwas nobly renowned among many knights of the Table Round.\nCHAPTER XXI. Of great jousts done all a Christmas, and of a great\njousts and tourney ordained by King Arthur, and of Sir Launcelot.\nThus it passed on till Christmas, and then every day there was jousts\nmade for a diamond, who that jousted best should have a diamond. But\nSir Launcelot would not joust but if it were at a great jousts cried.\nBut Sir Lavaine jousted there all that Christmas passingly well, and\nbest was praised, for there were but few that did so well. Wherefore\nall manner of knights deemed that Sir Lavaine should be made knight of\nthe Table Round at the next feast of Pentecost. So at-after Christmas\nKing Arthur let call unto him many knights, and there they advised\ntogether to make a party and a great tournament and jousts. And the\nKing of Northgalis said to Arthur, he would have on his party King\nAnguish of Ireland, and the King with the Hundred Knights, and the King\nof Northumberland, and Sir Galahad, the haut prince. And so these four\nkings and this mighty duke took part against King Arthur and the\nknights of the Table Round. And the cry was made that the day of the\njousts should be beside Westminster upon Candlemas Day, whereof many\nknights were glad, and made them ready to be at that jousts in the\nfreshest manner.\nThen Queen Guenever sent for Sir Launcelot, and said thus: I warn you\nthat ye ride no more in no jousts nor tournaments but that your kinsmen\nmay know you. And at these jousts that shall be ye shall have of me a\nsleeve of gold; and I pray you for my sake enforce yourself there, that\nmen may speak of you worship; but I charge you as ye will have my love,\nthat ye warn your kinsmen that ye will bear that day the sleeve of gold\nupon your helmet. Madam, said Sir Launcelot, it shall be done. And so\neither made great joy of other. And when Sir Launcelot saw his time he\ntold Sir Bors that he would depart, and have no more with him but Sir\nLavaine, unto the good hermit that dwelt in that forest of Windsor; his\nname was Sir Brasias; and there he thought to repose him, and take all\nthe rest that he might, because he would be fresh at that day of\njousts.\nSo Sir Launcelot and Sir Lavaine departed, that no creature wist where\nhe was become, but the noble men of his blood. And when he was come to\nthe hermitage, wit ye well he had good cheer. And so daily Sir\nLauncelot would go to a well fast by the hermitage, and there he would\nlie down, and see the well spring and burble, and sometime he slept\nthere. So at that time there was a lady dwelt in that forest, and she\nwas a great huntress, and daily she used to hunt, and ever she bare her\nbow with her; and no men went never with her, but always women, and\nthey were shooters, and could well kill a deer, both at the stalk and\nat the trest; and they daily bare bows and arrows, horns and\nwood-knives, and many good dogs they had, both for the string and for a\nbait. So it happed this lady the huntress had abated her dog for the\nbow at a barren hind, and so this barren hind took the flight over\nhedges and woods. And ever this lady and part of her women costed the\nhind, and checked it by the noise of the hounds, to have met with the\nhind at some water; and so it happed, the hind came to the well whereas\nSir Launcelot was sleeping and slumbering. And so when the hind came to\nthe well, for heat she went to soil, and there she lay a great while;\nand the dog came after, and umbecast about, for she had lost the very\nperfect feute of the hind. Right so came that lady the huntress, that\nknew by the dog that she had, that the hind was at the soil in that\nwell; and there she came stiffly and found the hind, and she put a\nbroad arrow in her bow, and shot at the hind, and over-shot the hind;\nand so by misfortune the arrow smote Sir Launcelot in the thick of the\nbuttock, over the barbs. When Sir Launcelot felt himself so hurt, he\nhurled up woodly, and saw the lady that had smitten him. And when he\nsaw she was a woman, he said thus: Lady or damosel, what that thou be,\nin an evil time bear ye a bow; the devil made you a shooter.\nCHAPTER XXII. How Launcelot after that he was hurt of a gentlewoman\ncame to an hermit, and of other matters.\nNow mercy, fair sir, said the lady, I am a gentlewoman that useth here\nin this forest hunting, and God knoweth I saw ye not; but as here was a\nbarren hind at the soil in this well, and I weened to have done well,\nbut my hand swerved. Alas, said Sir Launcelot, ye have mischieved me.\nAnd so the lady departed, and Sir Launcelot as he might pulled out the\narrow, and left that head still in his buttock, and so he went weakly\nto the hermitage ever more bleeding as he went. And when Sir Lavaine\nand the hermit espied that Sir Launcelot was hurt, wit you well they\nwere passing heavy, but Sir Lavaine wist not how that he was hurt nor\nby whom. And then were they wroth out of measure.\nThen with great pain the hermit gat out the arrow\u2019s head out of Sir\nLauncelot\u2019s buttock, and much of his blood he shed, and the wound was\npassing sore, and unhappily smitten, for it was in such a place that he\nmight not sit in no saddle. Have mercy, Jesu, said Sir Launcelot, I may\ncall myself the most unhappiest man that liveth, for ever when I would\nfainest have worship there befalleth me ever some unhappy thing. Now so\nJesu me help, said Sir Launcelot, and if no man would but God, I shall\nbe in the field upon Candlemas Day at the jousts, whatsomever fall of\nit: so all that might be gotten to heal Sir Launcelot was had.\nSo when the day was come Sir Launcelot let devise that he was arrayed,\nand Sir Lavaine, and their horses, as though they had been Saracens;\nand so they departed and came nigh to the field. The King of Northgalis\nwith an hundred knights with him, and the King of Northumberland\nbrought with him an hundred good knights, and King Anguish of Ireland\nbrought with him an hundred good knights ready to joust, and Sir\nGalahad, the haut prince, brought with him an hundred good knights, and\nthe King with the Hundred Knights brought with him as many, and all\nthese were proved good knights. Then came in King Arthur\u2019s party; and\nthere came in the King of Scots with an hundred knights, and King\nUriens of Gore brought with him an hundred knights, and King Howel of\nBrittany brought with him an hundred knights, and Chaleins of Clarance\nbrought with him an hundred knights, and King Arthur himself came into\nthe field with two hundred knights, and the most part were knights of\nthe Table Round, that were proved noble knights; and there were old\nknights set in scaffolds for to judge, with the queen, who did best.\nCHAPTER XXIII. How Sir Launcelot behaved him at the jousts, and other\nmen also.\nThen they blew to the field; and there the King of Northgalis\nencountered with the King of Scots, and there the King of Scots had a\nfall; and the King of Ireland smote down King Uriens; and the King of\nNorthumberland smote down King Howel of Brittany; and Sir Galahad, the\nhaut prince, smote down Chaleins of Clarance. And then King Arthur was\nwood wroth, and ran to the King with the Hundred Knights, and there\nKing Arthur smote him down; and after with that same spear King Arthur\nsmote down three other knights. And then when his spear was broken King\nArthur did passingly well; and so therewithal came in Sir Gawaine and\nSir Gaheris, Sir Agravaine and Sir Mordred, and there everych of them\nsmote down a knight, and Sir Gawaine smote down four knights; and then\nthere began a strong medley, for then there came in the knights of\nLauncelot\u2019s blood, and Sir Gareth and Sir Palomides with them, and many\nknights of the Table Round, and they began to hold the four kings and\nthe mighty duke so hard that they were discomfit; but this Duke\nGalahad, the haut prince, was a noble knight, and by his mighty prowess\nof arms he held the knights of the Table Round strait enough.\nAll this doing saw Sir Launcelot, and then he came into the field with\nSir Lavaine as it had been thunder. And then anon Sir Bors and the\nknights of his blood espied Sir Launcelot, and said to them all: I warn\nyou beware of him with the sleeve of gold upon his head, for he is\nhimself Sir Launcelot du Lake; and for great goodness Sir Bors warned\nSir Gareth. I am well apaid, said Sir Gareth, that I may know him. But\nwho is he, said they all, that rideth with him in the same array? That\nis the good and gentle knight Sir Lavaine, said Sir Bors. So Sir\nLauncelot encountered with Sir Gawaine, and there by force Sir\nLauncelot smote down Sir Gawaine and his horse to the earth, and so he\nsmote down Sir Agravaine and Sir Gaheris, and also he smote down Sir\nMordred, and all this was with one spear. Then Sir Lavaine met with Sir\nPalomides, and either met other so hard and so fiercely that both their\nhorses fell to the earth. And then were they horsed again, and then met\nSir Launcelot with Sir Palomides, and there Sir Palomides had a fall;\nand so Sir Launcelot or ever he stint, as fast as he might get spears,\nhe smote down thirty knights, and the most part of them were knights of\nthe Table Round; and ever the knights of his blood withdrew them, and\nmade them ado in other places where Sir Launcelot came not.\nAnd then King Arthur was wroth when he saw Sir Launcelot do such deeds;\nand then the king called unto him Sir Gawaine, Sir Mordred, Sir Kay,\nSir Griflet, Sir Lucan the Butler, Sir Bedivere, Sir Palomides, Sir\nSafere, his brother; and so the king with these nine knights made them\nready to set upon Sir Launcelot, and upon Sir Lavaine. All this espied\nSir Bors and Sir Gareth. Now I dread me sore, said Sir Bors, that my\nlord, Sir Launcelot, will be hard matched. By my head, said Sir Gareth,\nI will ride unto my lord Sir Launcelot, for to help him, fall of him\nwhat fall may, for he is the same man that made me knight. Ye shall not\nso, said Sir Bors, by my counsel, unless that ye were disguised. Ye\nshall see me disguised, said Sir Gareth; and therewithal he espied a\nWelsh knight where he was to repose him, and he was sore hurt afore by\nSir Gawaine, and to him Sir Gareth rode, and prayed him of his\nknighthood to lend him his shield for his. I will well, said the Welsh\nknight. And when Sir Gareth had his shield, the book saith it was\ngreen, with a maiden that seemed in it.\nThen Sir Gareth came driving to Sir Launcelot all that he might and\nsaid: Knight, keep thyself, for yonder cometh King Arthur with nine\nnoble knights with him to put you to a rebuke, and so I am come to bear\nyou fellowship for old love ye have shewed me. Gramercy, said Sir\nLauncelot. Sir, said Sir Gareth, encounter ye with Sir Gawaine, and I\nshall encounter with Sir Palomides; and let Sir Lavaine match with the\nnoble King Arthur. And when we have delivered them, let us three hold\nus sadly together. Then came King Arthur with his nine knights with\nhim, and Sir Launcelot encountered with Sir Gawaine, and gave him such\na buffet that the arson of his saddle brast, and Sir Gawaine fell to\nthe earth. Then Sir Gareth encountered with the good knight Sir\nPalomides, and he gave him such a buffet that both his horse and he\ndashed to the earth. Then encountered King Arthur with Sir Lavaine, and\nthere either of them smote other to the earth, horse and all, that they\nlay a great while. Then Sir Launcelot smote down Sir Agravaine, and Sir\nGaheris, and Sir Mordred; and Sir Gareth smote down Sir Kay, and Sir\nSafere, and Sir Griflet. And then Sir Lavaine was horsed again, and he\nsmote down Sir Lucan the Butler and Sir Bedevere and then there began\ngreat throng of good knights.\nThen Sir Launcelot hurtled here and there, and raced and pulled off\nhelms, so that at that time there might none sit him a buffet with\nspear nor with sword; and Sir Gareth did such deeds of arms that all\nmen marvelled what knight he was with the green shield, for he smote\ndown that day and pulled down mo than thirty knights. And, as the\nFrench book saith, Sir Launcelot marvelled; when he beheld Sir Gareth\ndo such deeds, what knight he might be; and Sir Lavaine pulled down and\nsmote down twenty knights. Also Sir Launcelot knew not Sir Gareth for\nan Sir Tristram de Liones, outher Sir Lamorak de Galis had been alive,\nSir Launcelot would have deemed he had been one of them twain. So ever\nas Sir Launcelot Sir Gareth, Sir Lavaine fought, and on the one side\nSir Bors, Sir Ector de Maris, Sir Lionel, Sir Lamorak de Galis, Sir\nBleoberis, Sir Galihud, Sir Galihodin, Sir Pelleas, and with mo other\nof King Ban\u2019s blood fought upon another party, and held the King with\nthe Hundred Knights and the King of Northumberland right strait.\nCHAPTER XXIV. How King Arthur marvelled much of the jousting in the\nfield, and how he rode and found Sir Launcelot.\nSo this tournament and this jousts dured long, till it was near night,\nfor the knights of the Round Table relieved ever unto King Arthur; for\nthe king was wroth out of measure that he and his knights might not\nprevail that day. Then Sir Gawaine said to the king: I marvel where all\nthis day [be] Sir Bors de Ganis and his fellowship of Sir Launcelot\u2019s\nblood, I marvel all this day they be not about you: it is for some\ncause said Sir Gawaine. By my head, said Sir Kay, Sir Bors is yonder\nall this day upon the right hand of this field, and there he and his\nblood do more worshipfully than we do. It may well be, said Sir\nGawaine, but I dread me ever of guile; for on pain of my life, said Sir\nGawaine, this knight with the red sleeve of gold is himself Sir\nLauncelot, I see well by his riding and by his great strokes; and the\nother knight in the same colours is the good young knight, Sir Lavaine.\nAlso that knight with the green shield is my brother, Sir Gareth, and\nyet he hath disguised himself, for no man shall never make him be\nagainst Sir Launcelot, because he made him knight. By my head, said\nArthur, nephew, I believe you; therefore tell me now what is your best\ncounsel. Sir, said Sir Gawaine, ye shall have my counsel: let blow unto\nlodging, for an he be Sir Launcelot du Lake, and my brother, Sir\nGareth, with him, with the help of that good young knight, Sir Lavaine,\ntrust me truly it will be no boot to strive with them but if we should\nfall ten or twelve upon one knight, and that were no worship, but\nshame. Ye say truth, said the king; and for to say sooth, said the\nking, it were shame to us so many as we be to set upon them any more;\nfor wit ye well, said King Arthur, they be three good knights, and\nnamely that knight with the sleeve of gold.\nSo then they blew unto lodging; but forthwithal King Arthur let send\nunto the four kings, and to the mighty duke, and prayed them that the\nknight with the sleeve of gold depart not from them, but that the king\nmay speak with him. Then forthwithal King Arthur alighted and unarmed\nhim, and took a little hackney and rode after Sir Launcelot, for ever\nhe had a spy upon him. And so he found him among the four kings and the\nduke; and there the king prayed them all unto supper, and they said\nthey would with good will. And when they were unarmed then King Arthur\nknew Sir Launcelot, Sir Lavaine, and Sir Gareth. Ah, Sir Launcelot,\nsaid King Arthur, this day ye have heated me and my knights.\nSo they yede unto Arthur\u2019s lodging all together, and there was a great\nfeast and great revel, and the prize was given unto Sir Launcelot; and\nby heralds they named him that he had smitten down fifty knights, and\nSir Gareth five-and-thirty, and Sir Lavaine four-and-twenty knights.\nThen Sir Launcelot told the king and the queen how the lady huntress\nshot him in the forest of Windsor, in the buttock, with an broad arrow,\nand how the wound thereof was that time six inches deep, and in like\nlong. Also Arthur blamed Sir Gareth because he left his fellowship and\nheld with Sir Launcelot. My lord, said Sir Gareth, he made me a knight,\nand when I saw him so hard bestead, methought it was my worship to help\nhim, for I saw him do so much, and so many noble knights against him;\nand when I understood that he was Sir Launcelot du Lake, I shamed to\nsee so many knights against him alone. Truly, said King Arthur unto Sir\nGareth, ye say well, and worshipfully have ye done and to yourself\ngreat worship; and all the days of my life, said King Arthur unto Sir\nGareth, wit you well I shall love you, and trust you the more better.\nFor ever, said Arthur, it is a worshipful knight\u2019s deed to help another\nworshipful knight when he seeth him in a great danger; for ever a\nworshipful man will be loath to see a worshipful man shamed; and he\nthat is of no worship, and fareth with cowardice, never shall he show\ngentleness, nor no manner of goodness where he seeth a man in any\ndanger, for then ever will a coward show no mercy; and always a good\nman will do ever to another man as he would be done to himself. So then\nthere were great feasts unto kings and dukes, and revel, game, and\nplay, and all manner of noblesse was used; and he that was courteous,\ntrue, and faithful, to his friend was that time cherished.\nCHAPTER XXV. How true love is likened to summer.\nAnd thus it passed on from Candlemass until after Easter, that the\nmonth of May was come, when every lusty heart beginneth to blossom, and\nto bring forth fruit; for like as herbs and trees bring forth fruit and\nflourish in May, in like wise every lusty heart that is in any manner a\nlover, springeth and flourisheth in lusty deeds. For it giveth unto all\nlovers courage, that lusty month of May, in something to constrain him\nto some manner of thing more in that month than in any other month, for\ndivers causes. For then all herbs and trees renew a man and woman, and\nlikewise lovers call again to their mind old gentleness and old\nservice, and many kind deeds that were forgotten by negligence. For\nlike as winter rasure doth alway arase and deface green summer, so\nfareth it by unstable love in man and woman. For in many persons there\nis no stability; for we may see all day, for a little blast of winter\u2019s\nrasure, anon we shall deface and lay apart true love for little or\nnought, that cost much thing; this is no wisdom nor stability, but it\nis feebleness of nature and great disworship, whosomever useth this.\nTherefore, like as May month flowereth and flourisheth in many gardens,\nso in like wise let every man of worship flourish his heart in this\nworld, first unto God, and next unto the joy of them that he promised\nhis faith unto; for there was never worshipful man or worshipful woman,\nbut they loved one better than another; and worship in arms may never\nbe foiled, but first reserve the honour to God, and secondly the\nquarrel must come of thy lady: and such love I call virtuous love.\nBut nowadays men can not love seven night but they must have all their\ndesires: that love may not endure by reason; for where they be soon\naccorded and hasty heat, soon it cooleth. Right so fareth love\nnowadays, soon hot soon cold: this is no stability. But the old love\nwas not so; men and women could love together seven years, and no\nlicours lusts were between them, and then was love, truth, and\nfaithfulness: and lo, in like wise was used love in King Arthur\u2019s days.\nWherefore I liken love nowadays unto summer and winter; for like as the\none is hot and the other cold, so fareth love nowadays; therefore all\nye that be lovers call unto your remembrance the month of May, like as\ndid Queen Guenever, for whom I make here a little mention, that while\nshe lived she was a true lover, and therefore she had a good end.\n_Explicit liber Octodecimus. And here followeth liber xix._\nBOOK XIX.\nCHAPTER I. How Queen Guenever rode a-Maying with certain knights of the\nRound Table and clad all in green.\nSo it befell in the month of May, Queen Guenever called unto her\nknights of the Table Round; and she gave them warning that early upon\nthe morrow she would ride a-Maying into woods and fields beside\nWestminster. And I warn you that there be none of you but that he be\nwell horsed, and that ye all be clothed in green, outher in silk outher\nin cloth; and I shall bring with me ten ladies, and every knight shall\nhave a lady behind him, and every knight shall have a squire and two\nyeomen; and I will that ye all be well horsed. So they made them ready\nin the freshest manner. And these were the names of the knights: Sir\nKay le Seneschal, Sir Agravaine, Sir Brandiles, Sir Sagramore le\nDesirous, Sir Dodinas le Savage, Sir Ozanna le Cure Hardy, Sir Ladinas\nof the Forest Savage, Sir Persant of Inde, Sir Ironside, that was\ncalled the Knight of the Red Launds, and Sir Pelleas, the lover; and\nthese ten knights made them ready in the freshest manner to ride with\nthe queen. And so upon the morn they took their horses with the queen,\nand rode a-Maying in woods and meadows as it pleased them, in great joy\nand delights; for the queen had cast to have been again with King\nArthur at the furthest by ten of the clock, and so was that time her\npurpose.\nThen there was a knight that hight Meliagrance, and he was son unto\nKing Bagdemagus, and this knight had at that time a castle of the gift\nof King Arthur within seven mile of Westminster. And this knight, Sir\nMeliagrance, loved passing well Queen Guenever, and so had he done long\nand many years. And the book saith he had lain in await for to steal\naway the queen, but evermore he forbare for because of Sir Launcelot;\nfor in no wise he would meddle with the queen an Sir Launcelot were in\nher company, outher else an he were near-hand her. And that time was\nsuch a custom, the queen rode never without a great fellowship of men\nof arms about her, and they were many good knights, and the most part\nwere young men that would have worship; and they were called the\nQueen\u2019s Knights, and never in no battle, tournament, nor jousts, they\nbare none of them no manner of knowledging of their own arms, but plain\nwhite shields, and thereby they were called the Queen\u2019s Knights. And\nthen when it happed any of them to be of great worship by his noble\ndeeds, then at the next Feast of Pentecost, if there were any slain or\ndead, as there was none year that there failed but some were dead, then\nwas there chosen in his stead that was dead the most men of worship,\nthat were called the Queen\u2019s Knights. And thus they came up all first,\nor they were renowned men of worship, both Sir Launcelot and all the\nremnant of them.\nBut this knight, Sir Meliagrance, had espied the queen well and her\npurpose, and how Sir Launcelot was not with her, and how she had no men\nof arms with her but the ten noble knights all arrayed in green for\nMaying. Then he purveyed him a twenty men of arms and an hundred\narchers for to destroy the queen and her knights, for he thought that\ntime was best season to take the queen.\nCHAPTER II. How Sir Meliagrance took the queen and her knights, which\nwere sore hurt in fighting.\nSo as the queen had Mayed and all her knights, all were bedashed with\nherbs, mosses and flowers, in the best manner and freshest. Right so\ncame out of a wood Sir Meliagrance with an eight score men well\nharnessed, as they should fight in a battle of arrest, and bade the\nqueen and her knights abide, for maugre their heads they should abide.\nTraitor knight, said Queen Guenever, what cast thou for to do? Wilt\nthou shame thyself? Bethink thee how thou art a king\u2019s son, and knight\nof the Table Round, and thou to be about to dishonour the noble king\nthat made thee knight; thou shamest all knighthood and thyself, and me,\nI let thee wit, shalt thou never shame, for I had liefer cut mine own\nthroat in twain rather than thou shouldest dishonour me. As for all\nthis language, said Sir Meliagrance, be it as it be may, for wit you\nwell, madam, I have loved you many a year, and never or now could I get\nyou at such an advantage as I do now, and therefore I will take you as\nI find you.\nThen spake all the ten noble knights at once and said: Sir Meliagrance,\nwit thou well ye are about to jeopard your worship to dishonour, and\nalso ye cast to jeopard our persons howbeit we be unarmed. Ye have us\nat a great avail, for it seemeth by you that ye have laid watch upon\nus; but rather than ye should put the queen to a shame and us all, we\nhad as lief to depart from our lives, for an if we other ways did, we\nwere shamed for ever. Then said Sir Meliagrance: Dress you as well ye\ncan, and keep the queen. Then the ten knights of the Table Round drew\ntheir swords, and the other let run at them with their spears, and the\nten knights manly abode them, and smote away their spears that no spear\ndid them none harm. Then they lashed together with swords, and anon Sir\nKay, Sir Sagramore, Sir Agravaine, Sir Dodinas, Sir Ladinas, and Sir\nOzanna were smitten to the earth with grimly wounds. Then Sir\nBrandiles, and Sir Persant, Sir Ironside, Sir Pelleas fought long, and\nthey were sore wounded, for these ten knights, or ever they were laid\nto the ground, slew forty men of the boldest and the best of them.\nSo when the queen saw her knights thus dolefully wounded, and needs\nmust be slain at the last, then for pity and sorrow she cried Sir\nMeliagrance: Slay not my noble knights, and I will go with thee upon\nthis covenant, that thou save them, and suffer them not to be no more\nhurt, with this, that they be led with me wheresomever thou leadest me,\nfor I will rather slay myself than I will go with thee, unless that\nthese my noble knights may be in my presence. Madam, said Meliagrance,\nfor your sake they shall be led with you into mine own castle, with\nthat ye will be ruled, and ride with me. Then the queen prayed the four\nknights to leave their fighting, and she and they would not depart.\nMadam, said Sir Pelleas, we will do as ye do, for as for me I take no\nforce of my life nor death. For as the French book saith, Sir Pelleas\ngave such buffets there that none armour might hold him.\nCHAPTER III. How Sir Launcelot had word how the queen was taken, and\nhow Sir Meliagrance laid a bushment for Launcelot.\nThen by the queen\u2019s commandment they left battle, and dressed the\nwounded knights on horseback, some sitting, some overthwart their\nhorses, that it was pity to behold them. And then Sir Meliagrance\ncharged the queen and all her knights that none of all her fellowship\nshould depart from her; for full sore he dread Sir Launcelot du Lake,\nlest he should have any knowledging. All this espied the queen, and\nprivily she called unto her a child of her chamber that was swiftly\nhorsed, to whom she said: Go thou, when thou seest thy time, and bear\nthis ring unto Sir Launcelot du Lake, and pray him as he loveth me that\nhe will see me and rescue me, if ever he will have joy of me; and spare\nnot thy horse, said the queen, neither for water, neither for land. So\nthe child espied his time, and lightly he took his horse with the\nspurs, and departed as fast as he might. And when Sir Meliagrance saw\nhim so flee, he understood that it was by the queen\u2019s commandment for\nto warn Sir Launcelot. Then they that were best horsed chased him and\nshot at him, but from them all the child went suddenly. And then Sir\nMeliagrance said to the queen: Madam, ye are about to betray me, but I\nshall ordain for Sir Launcelot that he shall not come lightly at you.\nAnd then he rode with her, and they all, to his castle, in all the\nhaste that they might. And by the way Sir Meliagrance laid in an\nembushment the best archers that he might get in his country, to the\nnumber of thirty, to await upon Sir Launcelot, charging them that if\nthey saw such a manner of knight come by the way upon a white horse,\nthat in any wise they slay his horse, but in no manner of wise have not\nado with him bodily, for he is over-hardy to be overcome.\nSo this was done, and they were come to his castle, but in no wise the\nqueen would never let none of the ten knights and her ladies out of her\nsight, but always they were in her presence; for the book saith, Sir\nMeliagrance durst make no masteries, for dread of Sir Launcelot,\ninsomuch he deemed that he had warning. So when the child was departed\nfrom the fellowship of Sir Meliagrance, within a while he came to\nWestminster, and anon he found Sir Launcelot. And when he had told his\nmessage, and delivered him the queen\u2019s ring: Alas, said Sir Launcelot,\nnow I am shamed for ever, unless that I may rescue that noble lady from\ndishonour. Then eagerly he asked his armour; and ever the child told\nSir Launcelot how the ten knights fought marvellously, and how Sir\nPelleas, and Sir Ironside, and Sir Brandiles, and Sir Persant of Inde,\nfought strongly, but namely Sir Pelleas, there might none withstand\nhim; and how they all fought till at the last they were laid to the\nearth; and then the queen made appointment for to save their lives, and\ngo with Sir Meliagrance.\nAlas, said Sir Launcelot, that most noble lady, that she should be so\ndestroyed; I had liefer, said Sir Launcelot, than all France, that I\nhad been there well armed. So when Sir Launcelot was armed and upon his\nhorse, he prayed the child of the queen\u2019s chamber to warn Sir Lavaine\nhow suddenly he was departed, and for what cause. And pray him as he\nloveth me, that he will hie him after me, and that he stint not until\nhe come to the castle where Sir Meliagrance abideth, or dwelleth; for\nthere, said Sir Launcelot, he shall hear of me an I am a man living,\nand rescue the queen and the ten knights the which he traitorously hath\ntaken, and that shall I prove upon his head, and all them that hold\nwith him.\nCHAPTER IV. How Sir Launcelot\u2019s horse was slain, and how Sir Launcelot\nrode in a cart for to rescue the queen.\nThen Sir Launcelot rode as fast as he might, and the book saith he took\nthe water at Westminster Bridge, and made his horse to swim over Thames\nunto Lambeth. And then within a while he came to the same place thereas\nthe ten noble knights fought with Sir Meliagrance. And then Sir\nLauncelot followed the track until that he came to a wood, and there\nwas a straight way, and there the thirty archers bade Sir Launcelot\nturn again, and follow no longer that track. What commandment have ye\nthereto, said Sir Launcelot, to cause me that am a knight of the Round\nTable to leave my right way? This way shalt thou leave, other-else thou\nshalt go it on thy foot, for wit thou well thy horse shall be slain.\nThat is little mastery, said Sir Launcelot, to slay mine horse; but as\nfor myself, when my horse is slain, I give right nought for you, not an\nye were five hundred more. So then they shot Sir Launcelot\u2019s horse, and\nsmote him with many arrows; and then Sir Launcelot avoided his horse,\nand went on foot; but there were so many ditches and hedges betwixt\nthem and him that he might not meddle with none of them. Alas for\nshame, said Launcelot, that ever one knight should betray another\nknight; but it is an old saw, A good man is never in danger but when he\nis in the danger of a coward. Then Sir Launcelot went a while, and then\nhe was foul cumbered of his armour, his shield, and his spear, and all\nthat longed unto him. Wit ye well he was full sore annoyed, and full\nloath he was for to leave anything that longed unto him, for he dread\nsore the treason of Sir Meliagrance.\nThen by fortune there came by him a chariot that came thither for to\nfetch wood. Say me, carter, said Sir Launcelot, what shall I give thee\nto suffer me to leap into thy chariot, and that thou bring me unto a\ncastle within this two mile? Thou shalt not come within my chariot,\nsaid the carter, for I am sent for to fetch wood for my lord, Sir\nMeliagrance. With him would I speak. Thou shalt not go with me, said\nthe carter. Then Sir Launcelot leapt to him, and gave him such a buffet\nthat he fell to the earth stark dead. Then the other carter, his\nfellow, was afeard, and weened to have gone the same way; and then he\ncried: Fair lord, save my life, and I shall bring you where ye will.\nThen I charge thee, said Sir Launcelot, that thou drive me and this\nchariot even unto Sir Meliagrance\u2019s gate. Leap up into the chariot,\nsaid the carter, and ye shall be there anon. So the carter drove on a\ngreat wallop, and Sir Launcelot\u2019s horse followed the chariot, with more\nthan a forty arrows broad and rough in him.\nAnd more than an hour and an half Dame Guenever was awaiting in a bay\nwindow with her ladies, and espied an armed knight standing in a\nchariot. See, madam, said a lady, where rideth in a chariot a goodly\narmed knight; I suppose he rideth unto hanging. Where? said the queen.\nThen she espied by his shield that he was there himself, Sir Launcelot\ndu Lake. And then she was ware where came his horse ever after that\nchariot, and ever he trod his guts and his paunch under his feet. Alas,\nsaid the queen, now I see well and prove, that well is him that hath a\ntrusty friend. Ha, ha, most noble knight, said Queen Guenever, I see\nwell thou art hard bestead when thou ridest in a chariot. Then she\nrebuked that lady that likened Sir Launcelot to ride in a chariot to\nhanging. It was foul mouthed, said the queen, and evil likened, so for\nto liken the most noble knight of the world unto such a shameful death.\nO Jesu defend him and keep him, said the queen, from all mischievous\nend. By this was Sir Launcelot come to the gates of that castle, and\nthere he descended down, and cried, that all the castle rang of it:\nWhere art thou, false traitor, Sir Meliagrance, and knight of the Table\nRound? now come forth here, thou traitor knight, thou and thy\nfellowship with thee; for here I am, Sir Launcelot du Lake, that shall\nfight with you. And therewithal he bare the gate wide open upon the\nporter, and smote him under his ear with his gauntlet, that his neck\nbrast a-sunder.\nCHAPTER V. How Sir Meliagrance required forgiveness of the queen, and\nhow she appeased Sir Launcelot; and other matters.\nWhen Sir Meliagrance heard that Sir Launcelot was there he ran unto\nQueen Guenever, and fell upon his knee, and said: Mercy, madam, now I\nput me wholly into your grace. What aileth you now? said Queen\nGuenever; forsooth I might well wit some good knight would revenge me,\nthough my lord Arthur wist not of this your work. Madam, said Sir\nMeliagrance, all this that is amiss on my part shall be amended right\nas yourself will devise, and wholly I put me in your grace. What would\nye that I did? said the queen. I would no more, said Meliagrance, but\nthat ye would take all in your own hands, and that ye will rule my lord\nSir Launcelot; and such cheer as may be made him in this poor castle ye\nand he shall have until to-morn, and then may ye and all they return\nunto Westminster; and my body and all that I have I shall put in your\nrule. Ye say well, said the queen, and better is peace than ever war,\nand the less noise the more is my worship.\nThen the queen and her ladies went down unto the knight, Sir Launcelot,\nthat stood wroth out of measure in the inner court, to abide battle;\nand ever he bade: Thou traitor knight come forth. Then the queen came\nto him and said: Sir Launcelot, why be ye so moved? Ha, madam, said Sir\nLauncelot, why ask ye me that question? Meseemeth, said Sir Launcelot,\nye ought to be more wroth than I am, for ye have the hurt and the\ndishonour, for wit ye well, madam, my hurt is but little for the\nkilling of a mare\u2019s son, but the despite grieveth me much more than all\nmy hurt. Truly, said the queen, ye say truth; but heartily I thank you,\nsaid the queen, but ye must come in with me peaceably, for all thing is\nput in my hand, and all that is evil shall be for the best, for the\nknight full sore repenteth him of the misadventure that is befallen\nhim. Madam, said Sir Launcelot, sith it is so that ye been accorded\nwith him, as for me I may not be again it, howbeit Sir Meliagrance hath\ndone full shamefully to me, and cowardly. Ah madam, said Sir Launcelot,\nan I had wist ye would have been so soon accorded with him I would not\nhave made such haste unto you. Why say ye so, said the queen, do ye\nforthink yourself of your good deeds? Wit you well, said the queen, I\naccorded never unto him for favour nor love that I had unto him, but\nfor to lay down every shameful noise. Madam, said Sir Launcelot, ye\nunderstand full well I was never willing nor glad of shameful slander\nnor noise; and there is neither king, queen, nor knight, that beareth\nthe life, except my lord King Arthur, and you, madam, should let me,\nbut I should make Sir Meliagrance\u2019s heart full cold or ever I departed\nfrom hence. That wot I well, said the queen, but what will ye more? Ye\nshall have all thing ruled as ye list to have it. Madam, said Sir\nLauncelot, so ye be pleased I care not, as for my part ye shall soon\nplease.\nRight so the queen took Sir Launcelot by the bare hand, for he had put\noff his gauntlet, and so she went with him till her chamber; and then\nshe commanded him to be unarmed. And then Sir Launcelot asked where\nwere the ten knights that were wounded sore; so she showed them unto\nSir Launcelot, and there they made great joy of the coming of him, and\nSir Launcelot made great dole of their hurts, and bewailed them\ngreatly. And there Sir Launcelot told them how cowardly and traitorly\nMeliagrance set archers to slay his horse, and how he was fain to put\nhimself in a chariot. Thus they complained everych to other; and full\nfain they would have been revenged, but they peaced themselves because\nof the queen. Then, as the French book saith, Sir Launcelot was called\nmany a day after le Chevaler du Chariot, and did many deeds, and great\nadventures he had. And so leave we of this tale le Chevaler du Chariot,\nand turn we to this tale.\nSo Sir Launcelot had great cheer with the queen, and then Sir Launcelot\nmade a promise with the queen that the same night Sir Launcelot should\ncome to a window outward toward a garden; and that window was y-barred\nwith iron, and there Sir Launcelot promised to meet her when all folks\nwere asleep. So then came Sir Lavaine driving to the gates, crying:\nWhere is my lord, Sir Launcelot du Lake? Then was he sent for, and when\nSir Lavaine saw Sir Launcelot, he said: My lord, I found well how ye\nwere hard bestead, for I have found your horse that was slain with\narrows. As for that, said Sir Launcelot, I pray you, Sir Lavaine, speak\nye of other matters, and let ye this pass, and we shall right it\nanother time when we best may.\nCHAPTER VI. How Sir Launcelot came in the night to the queen and lay\nwith her, and how Sir Meliagrance appeached the queen of treason.\nThen the knights that were hurt were searched, and soft salves were\nlaid to their wounds; and so it passed on till supper time, and all the\ncheer that might be made them there was done unto the queen and all her\nknights. Then when season was, they went unto their chambers, but in no\nwise the queen would not suffer the wounded knights to be from her, but\nthat they were laid within draughts by her chamber, upon beds and\npillows, that she herself might see to them, that they wanted nothing.\nSo when Sir Launcelot was in his chamber that was assigned unto him, he\ncalled unto him Sir Lavaine, and told him that night he must go speak\nwith his lady, Dame Guenever. Sir, said Sir Lavaine, let me go with you\nan it please you, for I dread me sore of the treason of Sir\nMeliagrance. Nay, said Sir Launcelot, I thank you, but I will have\nnobody with me. Then Sir Launcelot took his sword in his hand, and\nprivily went to a place where he had espied a ladder to-forehand, and\nthat he took under his arm, and bare it through the garden, and set it\nup to the window, and there anon the queen was ready to meet him. And\nthen they made either to other their complaints of many divers things,\nand then Sir Launcelot wished that he might have come into her. Wit ye\nwell, said the queen, I would as fain as ye, that ye might come in to\nme. Would ye, madam, said Sir Launcelot, with your heart that I were\nwith you? Yea, truly, said the queen. Now shall I prove my might, said\nSir Launcelot, for your love; and then he set his hands upon the bars\nof iron, and he pulled at them with such a might that he brast them\nclean out of the stone walls, and therewithal one of the bars of iron\ncut the brawn of his hands throughout to the bone; and then he leapt\ninto the chamber to the queen. Make ye no noise, said the queen, for my\nwounded knights lie here fast by me. So, to pass upon this tale, Sir\nLauncelot went unto bed with the queen, and he took no force of his\nhurt hand, but took his pleasaunce and his liking until it was in the\ndawning of the day; and wit ye well he slept not but watched, and when\nhe saw his time that he might tarry no longer he took his leave and\ndeparted at the window, and put it together as well as he might again,\nand so departed unto his own chamber; and there he told Sir Lavaine how\nhe was hurt. Then Sir Lavaine dressed his hand and staunched it, and\nput upon it a glove, that it should not be espied; and so the queen lay\nlong in her bed until it was nine of the clock.\nThen Sir Meliagrance went to the queen\u2019s chamber, and found her ladies\nthere ready clothed. Jesu mercy, said Sir Meliagrance, what aileth you,\nmadam, that ye sleep thus long? And right therewithal he opened the\ncurtain for to behold her; and then was he ware where she lay, and all\nthe sheet and pillow was bebled with the blood of Sir Launcelot and of\nhis hurt hand. When Sir Meliagrance espied that blood, then he deemed\nin her that she was false to the king, and that some of the wounded\nknights had lain by her all that night. Ah, madam, said Sir\nMeliagrance, now I have found you a false traitress unto my lord\nArthur; for now I prove well it was not for nought that ye laid these\nwounded knights within the bounds of your chamber; therefore I will\ncall you of treason before my lord, King Arthur. And now I have proved\nyou, madam, with a shameful deed; and that they be all false, or some\nof them, I will make good, for a wounded knight this night hath lain by\nyou. That is false, said the queen, and that I will report me unto them\nall. Then when the ten knights heard Sir Meliagrance\u2019s words, they\nspake all in one voice and said to Sir Meliagrance: Thou sayest\nfalsely, and wrongfully puttest upon us such a deed, and that we will\nmake good any of us; choose which thou list of us when we are whole of\nour wounds. Ye shall not, said Sir Meliagrance, away with your proud\nlanguage, for here ye may all see, said Sir Meliagrance, that by the\nqueen this night a wounded knight hath lain. Then were they all ashamed\nwhen they saw that blood; and wit you well Sir Meliagrance was passing\nglad that he had the queen at such an advantage, for he deemed by that\nto hide his treason. So with this rumour came in Sir Launcelot, and\nfound them all at a great array.\nCHAPTER VII. How Sir Launcelot answered for the queen, and waged battle\nagainst Sir Meliagrance; and how Sir Launcelot was taken in a trap.\nWhat array is this? said Sir Launcelot. Then Sir Meliagrance told them\nwhat he had found, and showed them the queen\u2019s bed. Truly, said Sir\nLauncelot, ye did not your part nor knightly, to touch a queen\u2019s bed\nwhile it was drawn, and she lying therein; for I dare say my lord\nArthur himself would not have displayed her curtains, she being within\nher bed, unless that it had pleased him to have lain down by her; and\ntherefore ye have done unworshipfully and shamefully to yourself. I wot\nnot what ye mean, said Sir Meliagrance, but well I am sure there hath\none of her wounded knights lain by her this night, and therefore I will\nprove with my hands that she is a traitress unto my lord Arthur. Beware\nwhat ye do, said Launcelot, for an ye say so, an ye will prove it, it\nwill be taken at your hands.\nMy lord, Sir Launcelot, said Sir Meliagrance, I rede you beware what ye\ndo; for though ye are never so good a knight, as ye wot well ye are\nrenowned the best knight of the world, yet should ye be advised to do\nbattle in a wrong quarrel, for God will have a stroke in every battle.\nAs for that, said Sir Launcelot, God is to be dread; but as to that I\nsay nay plainly, that this night there lay none of these ten wounded\nknights with my lady Queen Guenever, and that will I prove with my\nhands, that ye say untruly in that now. Hold, said Sir Meliagrance,\nhere is my glove that she is traitress unto my lord, King Arthur, and\nthat this night one of the wounded knights lay with her. And I receive\nyour glove, said Sir Launcelot. And so they were sealed with their\nsignets, and delivered unto the ten knights. At what day shall we do\nbattle together? said Sir Launcelot. This day eight days, said Sir\nMeliagrance, in the field beside Westminster. I am agreed, said Sir\nLauncelot. But now, said Sir Meliagrance, sithen it is so that we must\nfight together, I pray you, as ye be a noble knight, await me with no\ntreason, nor none villainy the meanwhile, nor none for you. So God me\nhelp, said Sir Launcelot, ye shall right well wit I was never of no\nsuch conditions, for I report me to all knights that ever have known\nme, I fared never with no treason, nor I loved never the fellowship of\nno man that fared with treason. Then let us go to dinner, said\nMeliagrance, and after dinner ye and the queen and ye may ride all to\nWestminster. I will well, said Sir Launcelot.\nThen Sir Meliagrance said to Sir Launcelot: Pleaseth it you to see the\nestures of this castle? With a good will, said Sir Launcelot. And then\nthey went together from chamber to chamber, for Sir Launcelot dread no\nperils; for ever a man of worship and of prowess dreadeth least always\nperils, for they ween every man be as they be; but ever he that fareth\nwith treason putteth oft a man in great danger. So it befell upon Sir\nLauncelot that no peril dread, as he went with Sir Meliagrance he trod\non a trap and the board rolled, and there Sir Launcelot fell down more\nthan ten fathom into a cave full of straw; and then Sir Meliagrance\ndeparted and made no fare as that he nist where he was.\nAnd when Sir Launcelot was thus missed they marvelled where he was\nbecome; and then the queen and many of them deemed that he was departed\nas he was wont to do suddenly. For Sir Meliagrance made suddenly to put\naway aside Sir Lavaine\u2019s horse, that they might all understand that Sir\nLauncelot was departed suddenly. So it passed on till after dinner; and\nthen Sir Lavaine would not stint until that he ordained litters for the\nwounded knights, that they might be laid in them; and so with the queen\nand them all, both ladies and gentlewomen and other, went unto\nWestminster; and there the knights told King Arthur how Meliagrance had\nappealed the queen of high treason, and how Sir Launcelot had received\nthe glove of him: And this day eight days they shall do battle afore\nyou. By my head, said King Arthur, I am afeard Sir Meliagrance hath\ntaken upon him a great charge; but where is Sir Launcelot? said the\nking. Sir, said they all, we wot not where he is, but we deem he is\nridden to some adventures, as he is ofttimes wont to do, for he hath\nSir Lavaine\u2019s horse. Let him be, said the king, he will be founden, but\nif he be trapped with some treason.\nCHAPTER VIII. How Sir Launcelot was delivered out of prison by a lady,\nand took a white courser and came for to keep his day.\nSo leave we Sir Launcelot lying within that cave in great pain; and\nevery day there came a lady and brought him his meat and his drink, and\nwooed him, to have lain by him; and ever the noble knight, Sir\nLauncelot, said her nay. Sir Launcelot, said she, ye are not wise, for\nye may never out of this prison, but if ye have my help; and also your\nlady, Queen Guenever, shall be brent in your default, unless that ye be\nthere at the day of battle. God defend, said Sir Launcelot, that she\nshould be brent in my default; and if it be so, said Sir Launcelot,\nthat I may not be there, it shall be well understanded, both at the\nking and at the queen, and with all men of worship, that I am dead,\nsick, outher in prison. For all men that know me will say for me that I\nam in some evil case an I be not there that day; and well I wot there\nis some good knight either of my blood, or some other that loveth me,\nthat will take my quarrel in hand; and therefore, said Sir Launcelot,\nwit ye well ye shall not fear me; and if there were no more women in\nall this land but ye, I will not have ado with you. Then art thou\nshamed, said the lady, and destroyed for ever. As for world\u2019s shame,\nJesu defend me, and as for my distress, it is welcome whatsoever it be\nthat God sendeth me.\nSo she came to him the same day that the battle should be, and said:\nSir Launcelot, methinketh ye are too hard-hearted, but wouldest thou\nbut kiss me once I should deliver thee, and thine armour, and the best\nhorse that is within Sir Meliagrance\u2019s stable. As for to kiss you, said\nSir Launcelot, I may do that and lose no worship; and wit ye well an I\nunderstood there were any disworship for to kiss you I would not do it.\nThen he kissed her, and then she gat him, and brought him to his\narmour. And when he was armed, she brought him to a stable, where stood\ntwelve good coursers, and bade him choose the best. Then Sir Launcelot\nlooked upon a white courser the which liked him best; and anon he\ncommanded the keepers fast to saddle him with the best saddle of war\nthat there was; and so it was done as he bade. Then gat he his spear in\nhis hand, and his sword by his side, and commended the lady unto God,\nand said: Lady, for this good deed I shall do you service if ever it be\nin my power.\nCHAPTER IX. How Sir Launcelot came the same time that Sir Meliagrance\nabode him in the field and dressed him to battle.\nNow leave we Sir Launcelot wallop all that he might, and speak we of\nQueen Guenever that was brought to a fire to be brent; for Sir\nMeliagrance was sure, him thought, that Sir Launcelot should not be at\nthat battle; therefore he ever cried upon King Arthur to do him\njustice, other-else bring forth Sir Launcelot du Lake. Then was the\nking and all the court full sore abashed and shamed that the queen\nshould be brent in the default of Sir Launcelot. My lord Arthur, said\nSir Lavaine, ye may understand that it is not well with my lord Sir\nLauncelot, for an he were alive, so he be not sick outher in prison,\nwit ye well he would be here; for never heard ye that ever he failed\nhis part for whom he should do battle for. And therefore, said Sir\nLavaine, my lord, King Arthur, I beseech you give me license to do\nbattle here this day for my lord and master, and for to save my lady,\nthe queen. Gramercy gentle Sir Lavaine, said King Arthur, for I dare\nsay all that Sir Meliagrance putteth upon my lady the queen is wrong,\nfor I have spoken with all the ten wounded knights, and there is not\none of them, an he were whole and able to do battle, but he would prove\nupon Sir Meliagrance\u2019s body that it is false that he putteth upon my\nqueen. So shall I, said Sir Lavaine, in the defence of my lord, Sir\nLauncelot, an ye will give me leave. Now I give you leave, said King\nArthur, and do your best, for I dare well say there is some treason\ndone to Sir Launcelot.\nThen was Sir Lavaine armed and horsed, and suddenly at the lists\u2019 end\nhe rode to perform this battle; and right as the heralds should cry:\nLesses les aler, right so came in Sir Launcelot driving with all the\nforce of his horse. And then Arthur cried: Ho! and Abide! Then was Sir\nLauncelot called on horseback to-fore King Arthur, and there he told\nopenly to-fore the king and all, how Sir Meliagrance had served him\nfirst to last. And when the king, and the queen, and all the lords,\nknew of the treason of Sir Meliagrance they were all ashamed on his\nbehalf. Then was Queen Guenever sent for, and set by the king in great\ntrust of her champion. And then there was no more else to say, but Sir\nLauncelot and Sir Meliagrance dressed them unto battle, and took their\nspears; and so they came together as thunder, and there Sir Launcelot\nbare him down quite over his horse\u2019s croup. And then Sir Launcelot\nalighted and dressed his shield on his shoulder, with his sword in his\nhand, and Sir Meliagrance in the same wise dressed him unto him, and\nthere they smote many great strokes together; and at the last Sir\nLauncelot smote him such a buffet upon the helmet that he fell on the\none side to the earth. And then he cried upon him aloud: Most noble\nknight, Sir Launcelot du Lake, save my life, for I yield me unto you,\nand I require you, as ye be a knight and fellow of the Table Round,\nslay me not, for I yield me as overcome; and whether I shall live or\ndie I put me in the king\u2019s hands and yours.\nThen Sir Launcelot wist not what to do, for he had had liefer than all\nthe good of the world he might have been revenged upon Sir Meliagrance;\nand Sir Launcelot looked up to the Queen Guenever, if he might espy by\nany sign or countenance what she would have done. And then the queen\nwagged her head upon Sir Launcelot, as though she would say: Slay him.\nFull well knew Sir Launcelot by the wagging of her head that she would\nhave him dead; then Sir Launcelot bade him rise for shame and perform\nthat battle to the utterance. Nay, said Sir Meliagrance, I will never\narise until ye take me as yolden and recreant. I shall proffer you\nlarge proffers, said Sir Launcelot, that is for to say, I shall unarm\nmy head and my left quarter of my body, all that may be unarmed, and\nlet bind my left hand behind me, so that it shall not help me, and\nright so I shall do battle with you. Then Sir Meliagrance started up\nupon his legs, and said on high: My lord Arthur, take heed to this\nproffer, for I will take it, and let him be disarmed and bounden\naccording to his proffer. What say ye, said King Arthur unto Sir\nLauncelot, will ye abide by your proffer? Yea, my lord, said Sir\nLauncelot, I will never go from that I have once said.\nThen the knights parters of the field disarmed Sir Launcelot, first his\nhead, and sithen his left arm, and his left side, and they bound his\nleft arm behind his back, without shield or anything, and then they\nwere put together. Wit you well there was many a lady and knight\nmarvelled that Sir Launcelot would jeopardy himself in such wise. Then\nSir Meliagrance came with his sword all on high, and Sir Launcelot\nshowed him openly his bare head and the bare left side; and when he\nweened to have smitten him upon the bare head, then lightly he avoided\nthe left leg and the left side, and put his right hand and his sword to\nthat stroke, and so put it on side with great sleight; and then with\ngreat force Sir Launcelot smote him on the helmet such a buffet that\nthe stroke carved the head in two parts. Then there was no more to do,\nbut he was drawn out of the field. And at the great instance of the\nknights of the Table Round, the king suffered him to be interred, and\nthe mention made upon him, who slew him, and for what cause he was\nslain; and then the king and the queen made more of Sir Launcelot du\nLake, and more he was cherished, than ever he was aforehand.\nCHAPTER X. How Sir Urre came into Arthur\u2019s court for to be healed of\nhis wounds, and how King Arthur would begin to handle him.\nThen as the French book maketh mention, there was a good knight in the\nland of Hungary, his name was Sir Urre, and he was an adventurous\nknight, and in all places where he might hear of any deeds of worship\nthere would he be. So it happened in Spain there was an earl\u2019s son, his\nname was Alphegus, and at a great tournament in Spain this Sir Urre,\nknight of Hungary, and Sir Alphegus of Spain encountered together for\nvery envy; and so either undertook other to the utterance. And by\nfortune Sir Urre slew Sir Alphegus, the earl\u2019s son of Spain, but this\nknight that was slain had given Sir Urre, or ever he was slain, seven\ngreat wounds, three on the head, and four on his body and upon his left\nhand. And this Sir Alphegus had a mother, the which was a great\nsorceress; and she, for the despite of her son\u2019s death, wrought by her\nsubtle crafts that Sir Urre should never be whole, but ever his wounds\nshould one time fester and another time bleed, so that he should never\nbe whole until the best knight of the world had searched his wounds;\nand thus she made her avaunt, wherethrough it was known that Sir Urre\nshould never be whole.\nThen his mother let make an horse litter, and put him therein under two\npalfreys; and then she took Sir Urre\u2019s sister with him, a full fair\ndamosel, whose name was Felelolie; and then she took a page with him to\nkeep their horses, and so they led Sir Urre through many countries. For\nas the French book saith, she led him so seven year through all lands\nchristened, and never she could find no knight that might ease her son.\nSo she came into Scotland and into the lands of England, and by fortune\nshe came nigh the feast of Pentecost until King Arthur\u2019s court, that at\nthat time was holden at Carlisle. And when she came there, then she\nmade it openly to be known how that she was come into that land for to\nheal her son.\nThen King Arthur let call that lady, and asked her the cause why she\nbrought that hurt knight into that land. My most noble king, said that\nlady, wit you well I brought him hither for to be healed of his wounds,\nthat of all this seven year he might not be whole. And then she told\nthe king where he was wounded, and of whom; and how his mother had\ndiscovered in her pride how she had wrought that by enchantment, so\nthat he should never be whole until the best knight of the world had\nsearched his wounds. And so I have passed through all the lands\nchristened to have him healed, except this land. And if I fail to heal\nhim here in this land, I will never take more pain upon me, and that is\npity, for he was a good knight, and of great nobleness. What is his\nname? said Arthur. My good and gracious lord, she said, his name is Sir\nUrre of the Mount. In good time, said the king, and sith ye are come\ninto this land, ye are right welcome; and wit you well here shall your\nson be healed, an ever any Christian man may heal him. And for to give\nall other men of worship courage, I myself will assay to handle your\nson, and so shall all the kings, dukes, and earls that be here present\nwith me at this time; thereto will I command them, and well I wot they\nshall obey and do after my commandment. And wit you well, said King\nArthur unto Urre\u2019s sister, I shall begin to handle him, and search unto\nmy power, not presuming upon me that I am so worthy to heal your son by\nmy deeds, but I will courage other men of worship to do as I will do.\nAnd then the king commanded all the kings, dukes, and earls, and all\nnoble knights of the Round Table that were there that time present, to\ncome into the meadow of Carlisle. And so at that time there were but an\nhundred and ten of the Round Table, for forty knights were that time\naway; and so here we must begin at King Arthur, as is kindly to begin\nat him that was the most man of worship that was christened at that\ntime.\nCHAPTER XI. How King Arthur handled Sir Urre, and after him many other\nknights of the Round Table.\nThen King Arthur looked upon Sir Urre, and the king thought he was a\nfull likely man when he was whole; and then King Arthur made him to be\ntaken down off the litter and laid him upon the earth, and there was\nlaid a cushion of gold that he should kneel upon. And then noble Arthur\nsaid: Fair knight, me repenteth of thy hurt, and for to courage all\nother noble knights I will pray thee softly to suffer me to handle your\nwounds. Most noble christened king, said Urre, do as ye list, for I am\nat the mercy of God, and at your commandment. So then Arthur softly\nhandled him, and then some of his wounds renewed upon bleeding. Then\nthe King Clarence of Northumberland searched, and it would not be. And\nthen Sir Barant le Apres that was called the King with the Hundred\nKnights, he assayed and failed; and so did King Uriens of the land of\nGore; so did King Anguish of Ireland; so did King Nentres of Garloth;\nso did King Carados of Scotland; so did the Duke Galahad, the haut\nprince; so did Constantine, that was Sir Carados\u2019 son of Cornwall; so\ndid Duke Chaleins of Clarance; so did the Earl Ulbause; so did the Earl\nLambaile; so did the Earl Aristause.\nThen came in Sir Gawaine with his three sons, Sir Gingalin, Sir\nFlorence, and Sir Lovel, these two were begotten upon Sir Brandiles\u2019\nsister; and all they failed. Then came in Sir Agravaine, Sir Gaheris,\nSir Mordred, and the good knight, Sir Gareth, that was of very\nknighthood worth all the brethren. So came knights of Launcelot\u2019s kin,\nbut Sir Launcelot was not that time in the court, for he was that time\nupon his adventures. Then Sir Lionel, Sir Ector de Maris, Sir Bors de\nGanis, Sir Blamore de Ganis, Sir Bleoberis de Ganis, Sir Gahalantine,\nSir Galihodin, Sir Menaduke, Sir Villiars the Valiant, Sir Hebes le\nRenoumes. All these were of Sir Launcelot\u2019s kin, and all they failed.\nThen came in Sir Sagramore le Desirous, Sir Dodinas le Savage, Sir\nDinadan, Sir Bruin le Noire, that Sir Kay named La Cote Male Taile, and\nSir Kay le Seneschal, Sir Kay de Stranges, Sir Meliot de Logris, Sir\nPetipase of Winchelsea, Sir Galleron of Galway, Sir Melion of the\nMountain, Sir Cardok, Sir Uwaine les Avoutres, and Sir Ozanna le Cure\nHardy.\nThen came in Sir Astamor, and Sir Gromere, Grummor\u2019s son, Sir Crosselm,\nSir Servause le Breuse, that was called a passing strong knight, for as\nthe book saith, the chief Lady of the Lake feasted Sir Launcelot and\nServause le Breuse, and when she had feasted them both at sundry times\nshe prayed them to give her a boon. And they granted it her. And then\nshe prayed Sir Servause that he would promise her never to do battle\nagainst Sir Launcelot du Lake, and in the same wise she prayed Sir\nLauncelot never to do battle against Sir Servause, and so either\npromised her. For the French book saith, that Sir Servause had never\ncourage nor lust to do battle against no man, but if it were against\ngiants, and against dragons, and wild beasts. So we pass unto them that\nat the king\u2019s request made them all that were there at that high feast,\nas of the knights of the Table Round, for to search Sir Urre: to that\nintent the king did it, to wit which was the noblest knight among them.\nThen came Sir Aglovale, Sir Durnore, Sir Tor, that was begotten upon\nAries, the cowherd\u2019s wife, but he was begotten afore Aries wedded her,\nand King Pellinore begat them all, first Sir Tor, Sir Aglovale, Sir\nDurnore, Sir Lamorak, the most noblest knight one that ever was in\nArthur\u2019s days as for a worldly knight, and Sir Percivale that was\npeerless except Sir Galahad in holy deeds, but they died in the quest\nof the Sangreal. Then came Sir Griflet le Fise de Dieu, Sir Lucan the\nButler, Sir Bedevere his brother, Sir Brandiles, Sir Constantine, Sir\nCador\u2019s son of Cornwall, that was king after Arthur\u2019s days, and Sir\nClegis, Sir Sadok, Sir Dinas le Seneschal of Cornwall, Sir Fergus, Sir\nDriant, Sir Lambegus, Sir Clarrus of Cleremont, Sir Cloddrus, Sir\nHectimere, Sir Edward of Carnarvon, Sir Dinas, Sir Priamus, that was\nchristened by Sir Tristram the noble knight, and these three were\nbrethren; Sir Hellaine le Blank that was son to Sir Bors, he begat him\nupon King Brandegoris\u2019 daughter, and Sir Brian de Listinoise; Sir\nGautere, Sir Reynold, Sir Gillemere, were three brethren that Sir\nLauncelot won upon a bridge in Sir Kay\u2019s arms. Sir Guyart le Petite,\nSir Bellangere le Beuse, that was son to the good knight, Sir Alisander\nle Orphelin, that was slain by the treason of King Mark. Also that\ntraitor king slew the noble knight Sir Tristram, as he sat harping\nafore his lady La Beale Isoud, with a trenchant glaive, for whose death\nwas much bewailing of every knight that ever were in Arthur\u2019s days;\nthere was never none so bewailed as was Sir Tristram and Sir Lamorak,\nfor they were traitorously slain, Sir Tristram by King Mark, and Sir\nLamorak by Sir Gawaine and his brethren. And this Sir Bellangere\nrevenged the death of his father Alisander, and Sir Tristram slew King\nMark, and La Beale Isoud died swooning upon the corse of Sir Tristram,\nwhereof was great pity. And all that were with King Mark that were\nconsenting to the death of Sir Tristram were slain, as Sir Andred and\nmany other.\nThen came Sir Hebes, Sir Morganore, Sir Sentraile, Sir Suppinabilis,\nSir Bellangere le Orgulous, that the good knight Sir Lamorak won in\nplain battle; Sir Neroveus and Sir Plenorius, two good knights that Sir\nLauncelot won; Sir Darras, Sir Harry le Fise Lake, Sir Erminide,\nbrother to King Hermaunce, for whom Sir Palomides fought at the Red\nCity with two brethren; and Sir Selises of the Dolorous Tower, Sir\nEdward of Orkney, Sir Ironside, that was called the noble Knight of the\nRed Launds that Sir Gareth won for the love of Dame Liones, Sir Arrok\nde Grevaunt, Sir Degrane Saunce Velany that fought with the giant of\nthe black lowe, Sir Epinogris, that was the king\u2019s son of\nNorthumberland. Sir Pelleas that loved the lady Ettard, and he had died\nfor her love had not been one of the ladies of the lake, her name was\nDame Nimue, and she wedded Sir Pelleas, and she saved him that he was\nnever slain, and he was a full noble knight; and Sir Lamiel of Cardiff\nthat was a great lover. Sir Plaine de Fors, Sir Melleaus de Lile, Sir\nBohart le Cure Hardy that was King Arthur\u2019s son, Sir Mador de la Porte,\nSir Colgrevance, Sir Hervise de la Forest Savage, Sir Marrok, the good\nknight that was betrayed with his wife, for she made him seven year a\nwer-wolf, Sir Persaunt, Sir Pertilope, his brother, that was called the\nGreen Knight, and Sir Perimones, brother to them both, that was called\nthe Red Knight, that Sir Gareth won when he was called Beaumains. All\nthese hundred knights and ten searched Sir Urre\u2019s wounds by the\ncommandment of King Arthur.\nCHAPTER XII. How Sir Launcelot was commanded by Arthur to handle his\nwounds, and anon he was all whole, and how they thanked God.\nMercy Jesu, said King Arthur, where is Sir Launcelot du Lake that he is\nnot here at this time? Thus, as they stood and spake of many things,\nthere was espied Sir Launcelot that came riding toward them, and told\nthe king. Peace, said the king, let no manner thing be said until he be\ncome to us. So when Sir Launcelot espied King Arthur, he descended from\nhis horse and came to the king, and saluted him and them all. Anon as\nthe maid, Sir Urre\u2019s sister, saw Sir Launcelot, she ran to her brother\nthereas he lay in his litter, and said: Brother, here is come a knight\nthat my heart giveth greatly unto. Fair sister, said Sir Urre, so doth\nmy heart light against him, and certainly I hope now to be healed, for\nmy heart giveth unto him more than to all these that have searched me.\nThen said Arthur unto Sir Launcelot: Ye must do as we have done; and\ntold Sir Launcelot what they had done, and showed him them all, that\nhad searched him. Jesu defend me, said Sir Launcelot, when so many\nkings and knights have assayed and failed, that I should presume upon\nme to enchieve that all ye, my lords, might not enchieve. Ye shall not\nchoose, said King Arthur, for I will command you for to do as we all\nhave done. My most renowned lord, said Sir Launcelot, ye know well I\ndare not nor may not disobey your commandment, but an I might or durst,\nwit you well I would not take upon me to touch that wounded knight in\nthat intent that I should pass all other knights; Jesu defend me from\nthat shame. Ye take it wrong, said King Arthur, ye shall not do it for\nno presumption, but for to bear us fellowship, insomuch ye be a fellow\nof the Table Round; and wit you well, said King Arthur, an ye prevail\nnot and heal him, I dare say there is no knight in this land may heal\nhim, and therefore I pray you, do as we have done.\nAnd then all the kings and knights for the most part prayed Sir\nLauncelot to search him; and then the wounded knight, Sir Urre, set him\nup weakly, and prayed Sir Launcelot heartily, saying: Courteous knight,\nI require thee for God\u2019s sake heal my wounds, for methinketh ever\nsithen ye came here my wounds grieve me not. Ah, my fair lord, said Sir\nLauncelot, Jesu would that I might help you; I shame me sore that I\nshould be thus rebuked, for never was I able in worthiness to do so\nhigh a thing. Then Sir Launcelot kneeled down by the wounded knight\nsaying: My lord Arthur, I must do your commandment, the which is sore\nagainst my heart. And then he held up his hands, and looked into the\neast, saying secretly unto himself: Thou blessed Father, Son, and Holy\nGhost, I beseech thee of thy mercy, that my simple worship and honesty\nbe saved, and thou blessed Trinity, thou mayst give power to heal this\nsick knight by thy great virtue and grace of thee, but, Good Lord,\nnever of myself. And then Sir Launcelot prayed Sir Urre to let him see\nhis head; and then devoutly kneeling he ransacked the three wounds,\nthat they bled a little, and forthwith all the wounds fair healed, and\nseemed as they had been whole a seven year. And in likewise he searched\nhis body of other three wounds, and they healed in likewise; and then\nthe last of all he searched the which was in his hand, and anon it\nhealed fair.\nThen King Arthur and all the kings and knights kneeled down and gave\nthankings and lovings unto God and to His Blessed Mother. And ever Sir\nLauncelot wept as he had been a child that had been beaten. Then King\nArthur let array priests and clerks in the most devoutest manner, to\nbring in Sir Urre within Carlisle, with singing and loving to God. And\nwhen this was done, the king let clothe him in the richest manner that\ncould be thought; and then were there but few better made knights in\nall the court, for he was passingly well made and bigly; and Arthur\nasked Sir Urre how he felt himself. My good lord, he said, I felt\nmyself never so lusty. Will ye joust and do deeds of arms? said King\nArthur. Sir, said Urre, an I had all that longed unto jousts I would be\nsoon ready.\nCHAPTER XIII. How there was a party made of an hundred knights against\nan hundred knights, and of other matters.\nThen Arthur made a party of hundred knights to be against an hundred\nknights. And so upon the morn they jousted for a diamond, but there\njousted none of the dangerous knights; and so for to shorten this tale,\nSir Urre and Sir Lavaine jousted best that day, for there was none of\nthem but he overthrew and pulled down thirty knights; and then by the\nassent of all the kings and lords, Sir Urre and Sir Lavaine were made\nknights of the Table Round. And Sir Lavaine cast his love unto Dame\nFelelolie, Sir Urre\u2019s sister, and then they were wedded together with\ngreat joy, and King Arthur gave to everych of them a barony of lands.\nAnd this Sir Urre would never go from Sir Launcelot, but he and Sir\nLavaine awaited evermore upon him; and they were in all the court\naccounted for good knights, and full desirous in arms; and many noble\ndeeds they did, for they would have no rest, but ever sought\nadventures.\nThus they lived in all that court with great noblesse and joy long\ntime. But every night and day Sir Agravaine, Sir Gawaine\u2019s brother,\nawaited Queen Guenever and Sir Launcelot du Lake to put them to a\nrebuke and shame. And so I leave here of this tale, and overskip great\nbooks of Sir Launcelot du Lake, what great adventures he did when he\nwas called Le Chevaler du Chariot. For as the French book saith,\nbecause of despite that knights and ladies called him the knight that\nrode in the chariot like as he were judged to the gallows, therefore in\ndespite of all them that named him so, he was carried in a chariot a\ntwelvemonth, for, but little after that he had slain Sir Meliagrance in\nthe queen\u2019s quarrel, he never in a twelvemonth came on horseback. And\nas the French book saith, he did that twelvemonth more than forty\nbattles. And because I have lost the very matter of Le Chevaier du\nChariot, I depart from the tale of Sir Launcelot, and here I go unto\nthe morte of King Arthur; and that caused Sir Agravaine.\n_Explicit liber xix. And hereafter followeth the most piteous history\nof the morte of King Arthur, the which is the twentieth book._\nBOOK XX.\nCHAPTER I. How Sir Agravaine and Sir Mordred were busy upon Sir Gawaine\nfor to disclose the love between Sir Launcelot and Queen Guenever.\nIn May when every lusty heart flourisheth and bourgeoneth, for as the\nseason is lusty to behold and comfortable, so man and woman rejoice and\ngladden of summer coming with his fresh flowers: for winter with his\nrough winds and blasts causeth a lusty man and woman to cower and sit\nfast by the fire. So in this season, as in the month of May, it befell\na great anger and unhap that stinted not till the flower of chivalry of\nall the world was destroyed and slain; and all was long upon two\nunhappy knights the which were named Agravaine and Sir Mordred, that\nwere brethren unto Sir Gawaine. For this Sir Agravaine and Sir Mordred\nhad ever a privy hate unto the queen Dame Guenever and to Sir\nLauncelot, and daily and nightly they ever watched upon Sir Launcelot.\nSo it mishapped, Sir Gawaine and all his brethren were in King Arthur\u2019s\nchamber; and then Sir Agravaine said thus openly, and not in no\ncounsel, that many knights might hear it: I marvel that we all be not\nashamed both to see and to know how Sir Launcelot lieth daily and\nnightly by the queen, and all we know it so; and it is shamefully\nsuffered of us all, that we all should suffer so noble a king as King\nArthur is so to be shamed.\nThen spake Sir Gawaine, and said: Brother Sir Agravaine, I pray you and\ncharge you move no such matters no more afore me, for wit you well,\nsaid Sir Gawaine, I will not be of your counsel. So God me help, said\nSir Gaheris and Sir Gareth, we will not be knowing, brother Agravaine,\nof your deeds. Then will I, said Sir Mordred. I lieve well that, said\nSir Gawaine, for ever unto all unhappiness, brother Sir Mordred,\nthereto will ye grant; and I would that ye left all this, and made you\nnot so busy, for I know, said Sir Gawaine, what will fall of it. Fall\nof it what fall may, said Sir Agravaine, I will disclose it to the\nking. Not by my counsel, said Sir Gawaine, for an there rise war and\nwrack betwixt Sir Launcelot and us, wit you well brother, there will\nmany kings and great lords hold with Sir Launcelot. Also, brother Sir\nAgravaine, said Sir Gawaine, ye must remember how ofttimes Sir\nLauncelot hath rescued the king and the queen; and the best of us all\nhad been full cold at the heart-root had not Sir Launcelot been better\nthan we, and that hath he proved himself full oft. And as for my part,\nsaid Sir Gawaine, I will never be against Sir Launcelot for one day\u2019s\ndeed, when he rescued me from King Carados of the Dolorous Tower, and\nslew him, and saved my life. Also, brother Sir Agravaine and Sir\nMordred, in like wise Sir Launcelot rescued you both, and threescore\nand two, from Sir Turquin. Methinketh brother, such kind deeds and\nkindness should be remembered. Do as ye list, said Sir Agravaine, for I\nwill lain it no longer. With these words came to them King Arthur. Now\nbrother, stint your noise, said Sir Gawaine. We will not, said Sir\nAgravaine and Sir Mordred. Will ye so? said Sir Gawaine; then God speed\nyou, for I will not hear your tales ne be of your counsel. No more will\nI, said Sir Gareth and Sir Gaheris, for we will never say evil by that\nman; for because, said Sir Gareth, Sir Launcelot made me knight, by no\nmanner owe I to say ill of him: and therewithal they three departed,\nmaking great dole. Alas, said Sir Gawaine and Sir Gareth, now is this\nrealm wholly mischieved, and the noble fellowship of the Round Table\nshall be disparpled: so they departed.\nCHAPTER II. How Sir Agravaine disclosed their love to King Arthur, and\nhow King Arthur gave them licence to take him.\nAnd then Sir Arthur asked them what noise they made. My lord, said\nAgravaine, I shall tell you that I may keep no longer. Here is I, and\nmy brother Sir Mordred, brake unto my brothers Sir Gawaine, Sir\nGaheris, and to Sir Gareth, how this we know all, that Sir Launcelot\nholdeth your queen, and hath done long; and we be your sister\u2019s sons,\nand we may suffer it no longer, and all we wot that ye should be above\nSir Launcelot; and ye are the king that made him knight, and therefore\nwe will prove it, that he is a traitor to your person.\nIf it be so, said Sir Arthur, wit you well he is none other, but I\nwould be loath to begin such a thing but I might have proofs upon it;\nfor Sir Launcelot is an hardy knight, and all ye know he is the best\nknight among us all; and but if he be taken with the deed, he will\nfight with him that bringeth up the noise, and I know no knight that is\nable to match him. Therefore an it be sooth as ye say, I would he were\ntaken with the deed. For as the French book saith, the king was full\nloath thereto, that any noise should be upon Sir Launcelot and his\nqueen; for the king had a deeming, but he would not hear of it, for Sir\nLauncelot had done so much for him and the queen so many times, that\nwit ye well the king loved him passingly well. My lord, said Sir\nAgravaine, ye shall ride to-morn a-hunting, and doubt ye not Sir\nLauncelot will not go with you. Then when it draweth toward night, ye\nmay send the queen word that ye will lie out all that night, and so may\nye send for your cooks, and then upon pain of death we shall take him\nthat night with the queen, and outher we shall bring him to you dead or\nquick. I will well, said the king; then I counsel you, said the king,\ntake with you sure fellowship. Sir, said Agravaine, my brother, Sir\nMordred, and I, will take with us twelve knights of the Round Table.\nBeware, said King Arthur, for I warn you ye shall find him wight. Let\nus deal, said Sir Agravaine and Sir Mordred.\nSo on the morn King Arthur rode a-hunting, and sent word to the queen\nthat he would be out all that night. Then Sir Agravaine and Sir Mordred\ngat to them twelve knights, and hid themself in a chamber in the Castle\nof Carlisle, and these were their names: Sir Colgrevance, Sir Mador de\nla Porte, Sir Gingaline, Sir Meliot de Logris, Sir Petipase of\nWinchelsea, Sir Galleron of Galway, Sir Melion of the Mountain, Sir\nAstamore, Sir Gromore Somir Joure, Sir Curselaine, Sir Florence, Sir\nLovel. So these twelve knights were with Sir Mordred and Sir Agravaine,\nand all they were of Scotland, outher of Sir Gawaine\u2019s kin, either\nwell-willers to his brethren.\nSo when the night came, Sir Launcelot told Sir Bors how he would go\nthat night and speak with the queen. Sir, said Sir Bors, ye shall not\ngo this night by my counsel. Why? said Sir Launcelot. Sir, said Sir\nBors, I dread me ever of Sir Agravaine, that waiteth you daily to do\nyou shame and us all; and never gave my heart against no going, that\never ye went to the queen, so much as now; for I mistrust that the king\nis out this night from the queen because peradventure he hath lain some\nwatch for you and the queen, and therefore I dread me sore of treason.\nHave ye no dread, said Sir Launcelot, for I shall go and come again,\nand make no tarrying. Sir, said Sir Bors, that me repenteth, for I\ndread me sore that your going out this night shall wrath us all. Fair\nnephew, said Sir Launcelot, I marvel much why ye say thus, sithen the\nqueen hath sent for me; and wit ye well I will not be so much a coward,\nbut she shall understand I will see her good grace. God speed you well,\nsaid Sir Bors, and send you sound and safe again.\nCHAPTER III. How Sir Launcelot was espied in the queen\u2019s chamber, and\nhow Sir Agravaine and Sir Mordred came with twelve knights to slay him.\nSo Sir Launcelot departed, and took his sword under his arm, and so in\nhis mantle that noble knight put himself in great Jeopardy; and so he\npassed till he came to the queen\u2019s chamber, and then Sir Launcelot was\nlightly put into the chamber. And then, as the French book saith, the\nqueen and Launcelot were together. And whether they were abed or at\nother manner of disports, me list not hereof make no mention, for love\nthat time was not as is now-a-days. But thus as they were together,\nthere came Sir Agravaine and Sir Mordred, with twelve knights with them\nof the Round Table, and they said with crying voice: Traitor-knight,\nSir Launcelot du Lake, now art thou taken. And thus they cried with a\nloud voice, that all the court might hear it; and they all fourteen\nwere armed at all points as they should fight in a battle. Alas said\nQueen Guenever, now are we mischieved both Madam, said Sir Launcelot,\nis there here any armour within your chamber, that I might cover my\npoor body withal? An if there be any give it me, and I shall soon stint\ntheir malice, by the grace of God. Truly, said the queen, I have none\narmour, shield, sword, nor spear; wherefore I dread me sore our long\nlove is come to a mischievous end, for I hear by their noise there be\nmany noble knights, and well I wot they be surely armed, and against\nthem ye may make no resistance. Wherefore ye are likely to be slain,\nand then shall I be brent. For an ye might escape them, said the queen,\nI would not doubt but that ye would rescue me in what danger that ever\nI stood in. Alas, said Sir Launcelot, in all my life thus was I never\nbestead, that I should be thus shamefully slain for lack of mine\narmour.\nBut ever in one Sir Agravaine and Sir Mordred cried: Traitor-knight,\ncome out of the queen\u2019s chamber, for wit thou well thou art so beset\nthat thou shalt not escape. O Jesu mercy, said Sir Launcelot, this\nshameful cry and noise I may not suffer, for better were death at once\nthan thus to endure this pain. Then he took the queen in his arms, and\nkissed her, and said: Most noble Christian queen, I beseech you as ye\nhave been ever my special good lady, and I at all times your true poor\nknight unto my power, and as I never failed you in right nor in wrong\nsithen the first day King Arthur made me knight, that ye will pray for\nmy soul if that I here be slain; for well I am assured that Sir Bors,\nmy nephew, and all the remnant of my kin, with Sir Lavaine and Sir\nUrre, that they will not fail you to rescue you from the fire; and\ntherefore, mine own lady, recomfort yourself, whatsomever come of me,\nthat ye go with Sir Bors, my nephew, and Sir Urre, and they all will do\nyou all the pleasure that they can or may, that ye shall live like a\nqueen upon my lands. Nay, Launcelot, said the queen, wit thou well I\nwill never live after thy days, but an thou be slain I will take my\ndeath as meekly for Jesu Christ\u2019s sake as ever did any Christian queen.\nWell, madam, said I-auncelot, sith it is so that the day is come that\nour love must depart, wit you well I shall sell my life as dear as I\nmay; and a thousandfold, said Sir Launcelot, I am more heavier for you\nthan for myself. And now I had liefer than to be lord of all\nChristendom, that I had sure armour upon me, that men might speak of my\ndeeds or ever I were slain. Truly, said the queen, I would an it might\nplease God that they would take me and slay me, and suffer you to\nescape. That shall never be, said Sir Launcelot, God defend me from\nsuch a shame, but Jesu be Thou my shield and mine armour!\nCHAPTER IV. How Sir Launcelot slew Sir Colgrevance, and armed him in\nhis harness, and after slew Sir Agravaine, and twelve of his fellows.\nAnd therewith Sir Launcelot wrapped his mantle about his arm well and\nsurely; and by then they had gotten a great form out of the hall, and\ntherewithal they rashed at the door. Fair lords, said Sir Launcelot,\nleave your noise and your rashing, and I shall set open this door, and\nthen may ye do with me what it liketh you. Come off then, said they\nall, and do it, for it availeth thee not to strive against us all; and\ntherefore let us into this chamber, and we shall save thy life until\nthou come to King Arthur. Then Launcelot unbarred the door, and with\nhis left hand he held it open a little, so that but one man might come\nin at once; and so there came striding a good knight, a much man and\nlarge, and his name was Colgrevance of Gore, and he with a sword struck\nat Sir Launcelot mightily; and he put aside the stroke, and gave him\nsuch a buffet upon the helmet, that he fell grovelling dead within the\nchamber door. And then Sir Launcelot with great might drew that dead\nknight within the chamber door; and Sir Launcelot with help of the\nqueen and her ladies was lightly armed in Sir Colgrevance\u2019s armour.\nAnd ever stood Sir Agravaine and Sir Mordred crying: Traitor-knight,\ncome out of the queen\u2019s chamber. Leave your noise, said Sir Launcelot\nunto Sir Agravaine, for wit you well, Sir Agravaine, ye shall not\nprison me this night; and therefore an ye do by my counsel, go ye all\nfrom this chamber door, and make not such crying and such manner of\nslander as ye do; for I promise you by my knighthood, an ye will depart\nand make no more noise, I shall as to-morn appear afore you all before\nthe king, and then let it be seen which of you all, outher else ye all,\nthat will accuse me of treason; and there I shall answer you as a\nknight should, that hither I came to the queen for no manner of mal\nengin, and that will I prove and make it good upon you with my hands.\nFie on thee, traitor, said Sir Agravaine and Sir Mordred, we will have\nthee maugre thy head, and slay thee if we list; for we let thee wit we\nhave the choice of King Arthur to save thee or to slay thee. Ah sirs,\nsaid Sir Launcelot, is there none other grace with you? then keep\nyourself.\nSo then Sir Launcelot set all open the chamber door, and mightily and\nknightly he strode in amongst them; and anon at the first buffet he\nslew Sir Agravaine. And twelve of his fellows after, within a little\nwhile after, he laid them cold to the earth, for there was none of the\ntwelve that might stand Sir Launcelot one buffet. Also Sir Launcelot\nwounded Sir Mordred, and he fled with all his might. And then Sir\nLauncelot returned again unto the queen, and said: Madam, now wit you\nwell all our true love is brought to an end, for now will King Arthur\never be my foe; and therefore, madam, an it like you that I may have\nyou with me, I shall save you from all manner adventures dangerous.\nThat is not best, said the queen; meseemeth now ye have done so much\nharm, it will be best ye hold you still with this. And if ye see that\nas to-morn they will put me unto the death, then may ye rescue me as ye\nthink best. I will well, said Sir Launcelot, for have ye no doubt,\nwhile I am living I shall rescue you. And then he kissed her, and\neither gave other a ring; and so there he left the queen, and went\nuntil his lodging.\nCHAPTER V. How Sir Launcelot came to Sir Bors, and told him how he had\nsped, and in what adventure he had been, and how he had escaped.\nWhen Sir Bors saw Sir Launcelot he was never so glad of his home-coming\nas he was then. Jesu mercy, said Sir Launcelot, why be ye all armed:\nwhat meaneth this? Sir, said Sir Bors, after ye were departed from us,\nwe all that be of your blood and your well-willers were so dretched\nthat some of us leapt out of our beds naked, and some in their dreams\ncaught naked swords in their hands; therefore, said Sir Bors, we deem\nthere is some great strife at hand; and then we all deemed that ye were\nbetrapped with some treason, and therefore we made us thus ready, what\nneed that ever ye were in.\nMy fair nephew, said Sir Launcelot unto Sir Bors, now shall ye wit all,\nthat this night I was more harder bestead than ever I was in my life,\nand yet I escaped. And so he told them all how and in what manner, as\nye have heard to-fore. And therefore, my fellows, said Sir Launcelot, I\npray you all that ye will be of good heart in what need somever I\nstand, for now is war come to us all. Sir, said Bors, all is welcome\nthat God sendeth us, and we have had much weal with you and much\nworship, and therefore we will take the woe with you as we have taken\nthe weal. And therefore, they said all (there were many good knights),\nlook ye take no discomfort, for there nis no bands of knights under\nheaven but we shall be able to grieve them as much as they may us. And\ntherefore discomfort not yourself by no manner, and we shall gather\ntogether that we love, and that loveth us, and what that ye will have\ndone shall be done. And therefore, Sir Launcelot, said they, we will\ntake the woe with the weal. Grant mercy, said Sir Launcelot, of your\ngood comfort, for in my great distress, my fair nephew, ye comfort me\ngreatly, and much I am beholding unto you. But this, my fair nephew, I\nwould that ye did in all haste that ye may, or it be forth days, that\nye will look in their lodging that be lodged here nigh about the king,\nwhich will hold with me, and which will not, for now I would know which\nwere my friends from my foes. Sir, said Sir Bors, I shall do my pain,\nand or it be seven of the clock I shall wit of such as ye have said\nbefore, who will hold with you.\nThen Sir Bors called unto him Sir Lionel, Sir Ector de Maris, Sir\nBlamore de Ganis, Sir Bleoberis de Ganis, Sir Gahalantine, Sir\nGalihodin, Sir Galihud, Sir Menadeuke Sir Villiers the Valiant, Sir\nHebes le Renoumes, Sir Lavaine Sir Urre of Hungary, Sir Nerounes, Sir\nPlenorius. These two knights Sir Launcelot made, and the one he won\nupon a bridge, and therefore they would never be against him. And Harry\nle Fise du Lake, and Sir Selises of the Dolorous Tower, and Sir Melias\nde Lile, and Sir Bellangere le Beuse, that was Sir Alisander\u2019s son Le\nOrphelin, because his mother Alice le Beale Pellerin and she was kin\nunto Sir Launcelot, and he held with him. So there came Sir Palomides\nand Sir Safere, his brother, to hold with Sir Launcelot, and Sir Clegis\nof Sadok, and Sir Dinas, Sir Clarius of Cleremont. So these\ntwo-and-twenty knights drew them together, and by then they were armed\non horseback, and promised Sir Launcelot to do what he would. Then\nthere fell to them, what of North Wales and of Cornwall, for Sir\nLamorak\u2019s sake and for Sir Tristram\u2019s sake, to the number of a\nfourscore knights.\nMy lords, said Sir Launcelot, wit you well, I have been ever since I\ncame into this country well willed unto my lord, King Arthur, and unto\nmy lady, Queen Guenever, unto my power; and this night because my lady\nthe queen sent for me to speak with her, I suppose it was made by\ntreason, howbeit I dare largely excuse her person, notwithstanding I\nwas there by a forecast near slain, but as Jesu provided me I escaped\nall their malice and treason. And then that noble knight Sir Launcelot\ntold them all how he was hard bestead in the queen\u2019s chamber, and how\nand in what manner he escaped from them. And therefore, said Sir\nLauncelot, wit you well, my fair lords, I am sure there nis but war\nunto me and mine. And for because I have slain this night these\nknights, I wot well, as is Sir Agravaine Sir Gawaine\u2019s brother, and at\nthe least twelve of his fellows, for this cause now I am sure of mortal\nwar, for these knights were sent and ordained by King Arthur to betray\nme. And therefore the king will in his heat and malice judge the queen\nto the fire, and that may I not suffer, that she should be brent for my\nsake; for an I may be heard and suffered and so taken, I will fight for\nthe queen, that she is a true lady unto her lord; but the king in his\nheat I dread me will not take me as I ought to be taken.\nCHAPTER VI. Of the counsel and advice that was taken by Sir Launcelot\nand his friends for to save the queen.\nMy lord, Sir Launcelot, said Sir Bors, by mine advice ye shall take the\nwoe with the weal, and take it in patience, and thank God of it. And\nsithen it is fallen as it is, I counsel you keep yourself, for an ye\nwill yourself, there is no fellowship of knights christened that shall\ndo you wrong. Also I will counsel you my lord, Sir Launcelot, than an\nmy lady, Queen Guenever, be in distress, insomuch as she is in pain for\nyour sake, that ye knightly rescue her; an ye did otherwise, all the\nworld will speak of you shame to the world\u2019s end. Insomuch as ye were\ntaken with her, whether ye did right or wrong, it is now your part to\nhold with the queen, that she be not slain and put to a mischievous\ndeath, for an she so die the shame shall be yours. Jesu defend me from\nshame, said Sir Launcelot, and keep and save my lady the queen from\nvillainy and shameful death, and that she never be destroyed in my\ndefault; wherefore my fair lords, my kin, and my friends, said Sir\nLauncelot, what will ye do? Then they said all: We will do as ye will\ndo. I put this to you, said Sir Launcelot, that if my lord Arthur by\nevil counsel will to-morn in his heat put my lady the queen to the fire\nthere to be brent, now I pray you counsel me what is best to do. Then\nthey said all at once with one voice: Sir, us thinketh best that ye\nknightly rescue the queen, insomuch as she shall be brent it is for\nyour sake; and it is to suppose, an ye might be handled, ye should have\nthe same death, or a more shamefuler death. And sir, we say all, that\nye have many times rescued her from death for other men\u2019s quarrels, us\nseemeth it is more your worship that ye rescue the queen from this\nperil, insomuch she hath it for your sake.\nThen Sir Launcelot stood still, and said: My fair lords, wit you well I\nwould be loath to do that thing that should dishonour you or my blood,\nand wit you well I would be loath that my lady, the queen, should die a\nshameful death; but an it be so that ye will counsel me to rescue her,\nI must do much harm or I rescue her; and peradventure I shall there\ndestroy some of my best friends, that should much repent me; and\nperadventure there be some, an they could well bring it about, or\ndisobey my lord King Arthur, they would soon come to me, the which I\nwere loath to hurt. And if so be that I rescue her, where shall I keep\nher? That shall be the least care of us all, said Sir Bors. How did the\nnoble knight Sir Tristram, by your good will? kept not he with him La\nBeale Isoud near three year in Joyous Gard? the which was done by your\nalther device, and that same place is your own; and in likewise may ye\ndo an ye list, and take the queen lightly away, if it so be the king\nwill judge her to be brent; and in Joyous Gard ye may keep her long\nenough until the heat of the king be past. And then shall ye bring\nagain the queen to the king with great worship; and then peradventure\nye shall have thank for her bringing home, and love and thank where\nother shall have maugre.\nThat is hard to do, said Sir Launcelot, for by Sir Tristram I may have\na warning, for when by means of treaties, Sir Tristram brought again La\nBeale Isoud unto King Mark from Joyous Gard, look what befell on the\nend, how shamefully that false traitor King Mark slew him as he sat\nharping afore his lady La Beale Isoud, with a grounden glaive he thrust\nhim in behind to the heart. It grieveth me, said Sir Launcelot, to\nspeak of his death, for all the world may not find such a knight. All\nthis is truth, said Sir Bors, but there is one thing shall courage you\nand us all, ye know well King Arthur and King Mark were never like of\nconditions, for there was never yet man could prove King Arthur untrue\nof his promise.\nSo to make short tale, they were all consented that for better outher\nfor worse, if so were that the queen were on that morn brought to the\nfire, shortly they all would rescue her. And so by the advice of Sir\nLauncelot, they put them all in an embushment in a wood, as nigh\nCarlisle as they might, and there they abode still, to wit what the\nking would do.\nCHAPTER VII. How Sir Mordred rode hastily to the king, to tell him of\nthe affray and death of Sir Agravaine and the other knights.\nNow turn we again unto Sir Mordred, that when he was escaped from the\nnoble knight, Sir Launcelot, he anon gat his horse and mounted upon\nhim, and rode unto King Arthur, sore wounded and smitten, and all\nforbled; and there he told the king all how it was, and how they were\nall slain save himself all only. Jesu mercy, how may this be? said the\nking; took ye him in the queen\u2019s chamber? Yea, so God me help, said Sir\nMordred, there we found him unarmed, and there he slew Colgrevance, and\narmed him in his armour; and all this he told the king from the\nbeginning to the ending. Jesu mercy, said the king, he is a marvellous\nknight of prowess. Alas, me sore repenteth, said the king, that ever\nSir Launcelot should be against me. Now I am sure the noble fellowship\nof the Round Table is broken for ever, for with him will many a noble\nknight hold; and now it is fallen so, said the king, that I may not\nwith my worship, but the queen must suffer the death. So then there was\nmade great ordinance in this heat, that the queen must be judged to the\ndeath. And the law was such in those days that whatsomever they were,\nof what estate or degree, if they were found guilty of treason, there\nshould be none other remedy but death; and outher the men or the taking\nwith the deed should be causer of their hasty judgment. And right so\nwas it ordained for Queen Guenever, because Sir Mordred was escaped\nsore wounded, and the death of thirteen knights of the Round Table.\nThese proofs and experiences caused King Arthur to command the queen to\nthe fire there to be brent.\nThen spake Sir Gawaine, and said: My lord Arthur, I would counsel you\nnot to be over-hasty, but that ye would put it in respite, this\njudgment of my lady the queen, for many causes. One it is, though it\nwere so that Sir Launcelot were found in the queen\u2019s chamber, yet it\nmight be so that he came thither for none evil; for ye know my lord,\nsaid Sir Gawaine, that the queen is much beholden unto Sir Launcelot,\nmore than unto any other knight, for ofttimes he hath saved her life,\nand done battle for her when all the court refused the queen; and\nperadventure she sent for him for goodness and for none evil, to reward\nhim for his good deeds that he had done to her in times past. And\nperadventure my lady, the queen, sent for him to that intent that Sir\nLauncelot should come to her good grace privily and secretly, weening\nto her that it was best so to do, in eschewing and dreading of slander;\nfor ofttimes we do many things that we ween it be for the best, and yet\nperadventure it turneth to the worst. For I dare say, said Sir Gawaine,\nmy lady, your queen, is to you both good and true; and as for Sir\nLauncelot, said Sir Gawaine, I dare say he will make it good upon any\nknight living that will put upon himself villainy or shame, and in like\nwise he will make good for my lady, Dame Guenever.\nThat I believe well, said King Arthur, but I will not that way with Sir\nLauncelot, for he trusteth so much upon his hands and his might that he\ndoubteth no man; and therefore for my queen he shall never fight more,\nfor she shall have the law. And if I may get Sir Launcelot, wit you\nwell he shall have a shameful death. Jesu defend, said Sir Gawaine,\nthat I may never see it. Why say ye so? said King Arthur; forsooth ye\nhave no cause to love Sir Launcelot, for this night last past he slew\nyour brother, Sir Agravaine, a full good knight, and almost he had\nslain your other brother, Sir Mordred, and also there he slew thirteen\nnoble knights; and also, Sir Gawaine, remember you he slew two sons of\nyours, Sir Florence and Sir Lovel. My lord, said Sir Gawaine, of all\nthis I have knowledge, of whose deaths I repent me sore; but insomuch I\ngave them warning, and told my brethren and my sons aforehand what\nwould fall in the end, insomuch they would not do by my counsel, I will\nnot meddle me thereof, nor revenge me nothing of their deaths; for I\ntold them it was no boot to strive with Sir Launcelot. Howbeit I am\nsorry of the death of my brethren and of my sons, for they are the\ncausers of their own death; for ofttimes I warned my brother Sir\nAgravaine, and I told him the perils the which be now fallen.\nCHAPTER VIII. How Sir Launcelot and his kinsmen rescued the queen from\nthe fire, and how he slew many knights.\nThen said the noble King Arthur to Sir Gawaine: Dear nephew, I pray you\nmake you ready in your best armour, with your brethren, Sir Gaheris and\nSir Gareth, to bring my queen to the fire, there to have her judgment\nand receive the death. Nay, my most noble lord, said Sir Gawaine, that\nwill I never do; for wit you well I will never be in that place where\nso noble a queen as is my lady, Dame Guenever, shall take a shameful\nend. For wit you well, said Sir Gawaine, my heart will never serve me\nto see her die; and it shall never be said that ever I was of your\ncounsel of her death.\nThen said the king to Sir Gawaine: Suffer your brothers Sir Gaheris and\nSir Gareth to be there. My lord, said Sir Gawaine, wit you well they\nwill be loath to be there present, because of many adventures the which\nbe like there to fall, but they are young and full unable to say you\nnay. Then spake Sir Gaheris, and the good knight Sir Gareth, unto Sir\nArthur: Sir, ye may well command us to be there, but wit you well it\nshall be sore against our will; but an we be there by your strait\ncommandment ye shall plainly hold us there excused: we will be there in\npeaceable wise, and bear none harness of war upon us. In the name of\nGod, said the king, then make you ready, for she shall soon have her\njudgment anon. Alas, said Sir Gawaine, that ever I should endure to see\nthis woful day. So Sir Gawaine turned him and wept heartily, and so he\nwent into his chamber; and then the queen was led forth without\nCarlisle, and there she was despoiled into her smock. And so then her\nghostly father was brought to her, to be shriven of her misdeeds. Then\nwas there weeping, and wailing, and wringing of hands, of many lords\nand ladies, but there were but few in comparison that would bear any\narmour for to strength the death of the queen.\nThen was there one that Sir Launcelot had sent unto that place for to\nespy what time the queen should go unto her death; and anon as he saw\nthe queen despoiled into her smock, and so shriven, then he gave Sir\nLauncelot warning. Then was there but spurring and plucking up of\nhorses, and right so they came to the fire. And who that stood against\nthem, there were they slain; there might none withstand Sir Launcelot,\nso all that bare arms and withstood them, there were they slain, full\nmany a noble knight. For there was slain Sir Belliance le Orgulous, Sir\nSegwarides, Sir Griflet, Sir Brandiles, Sir Aglovale, Sir Tor; Sir\nGauter, Sir Gillimer, Sir Reynolds\u2019 three brethren; Sir Damas, Sir\nPriamus, Sir Kay the Stranger, Sir Driant, Sir Lambegus, Sir Herminde;\nSir Pertilope, Sir Perimones, two brethren that were called the Green\nKnight and the Red Knight. And so in this rushing and hurling, as Sir\nLauncelot thrang here and there, it mishapped him to slay Gaheris and\nSir Gareth, the noble knight, for they were unarmed and unware. For as\nthe French book saith, Sir Launcelot smote Sir Gareth and Sir Gaheris\nupon the brain-pans, wherethrough they were slain in the field; howbeit\nin very truth Sir Launcelot saw them not, and so were they found dead\namong the thickest of the press.\nThen when Sir Launcelot had thus done, and slain and put to flight all\nthat would withstand him, then he rode straight unto Dame Guenever, and\nmade a kirtle and a gown to be cast upon her; and then he made her to\nbe set behind him, and prayed her to be of good cheer. Wit you well the\nqueen was glad that she was escaped from the death. And then she\nthanked God and Sir Launcelot; and so he rode his way with the queen,\nas the French book saith, unto Joyous Gard, and there he kept her as a\nnoble knight should do; and many great lords and some kings sent Sir\nLauncelot many good knights, and many noble knights drew unto Sir\nLauncelot. When this was known openly, that King Arthur and Sir\nLauncelot were at debate, many knights were glad of their debate, and\nmany were full heavy of their debate.\nCHAPTER IX. Of the sorrow and lamentation of King Arthur for the death\nof his nephews and other good knights, and also for the queen, his\nwife.\nSo turn we again unto King Arthur, that when it was told him how and in\nwhat manner of wise the queen was taken away from the fire, and when he\nheard of the death of his noble knights, and in especial of Sir Gaheris\nand Sir Gareth\u2019s death, then the king swooned for pure sorrow. And when\nhe awoke of his swoon, then he said: Alas, that ever I bare crown upon\nmy head! for now have I lost the fairest fellowship of noble knights\nthat ever held Christian king together. Alas, my good knights be slain\naway from me: now within these two days I have lost forty knights, and\nalso the noble fellowship of Sir Launcelot and his blood, for now I may\nnever hold them together no more with my worship. Alas that ever this\nwar began. Now fair fellows, said the king, I charge you that no man\ntell Sir Gawaine of the death of his two brethren; for I am sure, said\nthe king, when Sir Gawaine heareth tell that Sir Gareth is dead he will\ngo nigh out of his mind. Mercy Jesu, said the king, why slew he Sir\nGareth and Sir Gaheris, for I dare say as for Sir Gareth he loved Sir\nLauncelot above all men earthly. That is truth, said some knights, but\nthey were slain in the hurtling as Sir Launcelot thrang in the thick of\nthe press; and as they were unarmed he smote them and wist not whom\nthat he smote, and so unhappily they were slain. The death of them,\nsaid Arthur, will cause the greatest mortal war that ever was; I am\nsure, wist Sir Gawaine that Sir Gareth were slain, I should never have\nrest of him till I had destroyed Sir Launcelot\u2019s kin and himself both,\nouther else he to destroy me. And therefore, said the king, wit you\nwell my heart was never so heavy as it is now, and much more I am\nsorrier for my good knights\u2019 loss than for the loss of my fair queen;\nfor queens I might have enow, but such a fellowship of good knights\nshall never be together in no company. And now I dare say, said King\nArthur, there was never Christian king held such a fellowship together;\nand alas that ever Sir Launcelot and I should be at debate. Ah\nAgravaine, Agravaine, said the king, Jesu forgive it thy soul, for\nthine evil will, that thou and thy brother Sir Mordred hadst unto Sir\nLauncelot, hath caused all this sorrow: and ever among these complaints\nthe king wept and swooned.\nThen there came one unto Sir Gawaine, and told him how the queen was\nled away with Sir Launcelot, and nigh a twenty-four knights slain. O\nJesu defend my brethren, said Sir Gawaine, for full well wist I that\nSir Launcelot would rescue her, outher else he would die in that field;\nand to say the truth he had not been a man of worship had he not\nrescued the queen that day, insomuch she should have been brent for his\nsake. And as in that, said Sir Gawaine, he hath done but knightly, and\nas I would have done myself an I had stood in like case. But where are\nmy brethren? said Sir Gawaine, I marvel I hear not of them. Truly, said\nthat man, Sir Gareth and Sir Gaheris be slain. Jesu defend, said Sir\nGawaine, for all the world I would not that they were slain, and in\nespecial my good brother, Sir Gareth. Sir, said the man, he is slain,\nand that is great pity. Who slew him? said Sir Gawaine. Sir, said the\nman, Launcelot slew them both. That may I not believe, said Sir\nGawaine, that ever he slew my brother, Sir Gareth; for I dare say my\nbrother Gareth loved him better than me, and all his brethren, and the\nking both. Also I dare say, an Sir Launcelot had desired my brother Sir\nGareth, with him he would have been with him against the king and us\nall, and therefore I may never believe that Sir Launcelot slew my\nbrother. Sir, said this man, it is noised that he slew him.\nCHAPTER X. How King Arthur at the request of Sir Gawaine concluded to\nmake war against Sir Launcelot, and laid siege to his castle called\nJoyous Gard.\nAlas, said Sir Gawaine, now is my joy gone. And then he fell down and\nswooned, and long he lay there as he had been dead. And then, when he\narose of his swoon, he cried out sorrowfully, and said: Alas! And right\nso Sir Gawaine ran to the king, crying and weeping: O King Arthur, mine\nuncle, my good brother Sir Gareth is slain, and so is my brother Sir\nGaheris, the which were two noble knights. Then the king wept, and he\nboth; and so they fell a-swooning. And when they were revived then\nspake Sir Gawaine: Sir, I will go see my brother, Sir Gareth. Ye may\nnot see him, said the king, for I caused him to be interred, and Sir\nGaheris both; for I well understood that ye would make over-much\nsorrow, and the sight of Sir Gareth should have caused your double\nsorrow. Alas, my lord, said Sir Gawaine, how slew he my brother, Sir\nGareth? Mine own good lord I pray you tell me. Truly, said the king, I\nshall tell you how it is told me, Sir Launcelot slew him and Sir\nGaheris both. Alas, said Sir Gawaine, they bare none arms against him,\nneither of them both. I wot not how it was, said the king, but as it is\nsaid, Sir Launcelot slew them both in the thickest of the press and\nknew them not; and therefore let us shape a remedy for to revenge their\ndeaths.\nMy king, my lord, and mine uncle, said Sir Gawaine, wit you well now I\nshall make you a promise that I shall hold by my knighthood, that from\nthis day I shall never fail Sir Launcelot until the one of us have\nslain the other. And therefore I require you, my lord and king, dress\nyou to the war, for wit you well I will be revenged upon Sir Launcelot;\nand therefore, as ye will have my service and my love, now haste you\nthereto, and assay your friends. For I promise unto God, said Sir\nGawaine, for the death of my brother, Sir Gareth, I shall seek Sir\nLauncelot throughout seven kings\u2019 realms, but I shall slay him or else\nhe shall slay me. Ye shall not need to seek him so far, said the king,\nfor as I hear say, Sir Launcelot will abide me and you in the Joyous\nGard; and much people draweth unto him, as I hear say. That may I\nbelieve, said Sir Gawaine; but my lord, he said, assay your friends,\nand I will assay mine. It shall be done, said the king, and as I\nsuppose I shall be big enough to draw him out of the biggest tower of\nhis castle.\nSo then the king sent letters and writs throughout all England, both in\nthe length and the breadth, for to assummon all his knights. And so\nunto Arthur drew many knights, dukes, and earls, so that he had a great\nhost. And when they were assembled, the king informed them how Sir\nLauncelot had bereft him his queen. Then the king and all his host made\nthem ready to lay siege about Sir Launcelot, where he lay within Joyous\nGard. Thereof heard Sir Launcelot, and purveyed him of many good\nknights, for with him held many knights; and some for his own sake, and\nsome for the queen\u2019s sake. Thus they were on both parties well\nfurnished and garnished of all manner of thing that longed to the war.\nBut King Arthur\u2019s host was so big that Sir Launcelot would not abide\nhim in the field, for he was full loath to do battle against the king;\nbut Sir Launcelot drew him to his strong castle with all manner of\nvictual, and as many noble men as he might suffice within the town and\nthe castle. Then came King Arthur with Sir Gawaine with an huge host,\nand laid a siege all about Joyous Gard, both at the town and at the\ncastle, and there they made strong war on both parties. But in no wise\nSir Launcelot would ride out, nor go out of his castle, of long time;\nneither he would none of his good knights to issue out, neither none of\nthe town nor of the castle, until fifteen weeks were past.\nCHAPTER XI. Of the communication between King Arthur and Sir Launcelot,\nand how King Arthur reproved him.\nThen it befell upon a day in harvest time, Sir Launcelot looked over\nthe walls, and spake on high unto King Arthur and Sir Gawaine: My lords\nboth, wit ye well all is in vain that ye make at this siege, for here\nwin ye no worship but maugre and dishonour; for an it list me to come\nmyself out and my good knights, I should full soon make an end of this\nwar. Come forth, said Arthur unto Launcelot, an thou durst, and I\npromise thee I shall meet thee in midst of the field. God defend me,\nsaid Sir Launcelot, that ever I should encounter with the most noble\nking that made me knight. Fie upon thy fair language, said the king,\nfor wit you well and trust it, I am thy mortal foe, and ever will to my\ndeath day; for thou hast slain my good knights, and full noble men of\nmy blood, that I shall never recover again. Also thou hast lain by my\nqueen, and holden her many winters, and sithen like a traitor taken her\nfrom me by force.\nMy most noble lord and king, said Sir Launcelot, ye may say what ye\nwill, for ye wot well with yourself will I not strive; but thereas ye\nsay I have slain your good knights, I wot well that I have done so, and\nthat me sore repenteth; but I was enforced to do battle with them in\nsaving of my life, or else I must have suffered them to have slain me.\nAnd as for my lady, Queen Guenever, except your person of your\nhighness, and my lord Sir Gawaine, there is no knight under heaven that\ndare make it good upon me, that ever I was a traitor unto your person.\nAnd where it please you to say that I have holden my lady your queen\nyears and winters, unto that I shall ever make a large answer, and\nprove it upon any knight that beareth the life, except your person and\nSir Gawaine, that my lady, Queen Guenever, is a true lady unto your\nperson as any is living unto her lord, and that will I make good with\nmy hands. Howbeit it hath liked her good grace to have me in chierte,\nand to cherish me more than any other knight; and unto my power I again\nhave deserved her love, for ofttimes, my lord, ye have consented that\nshe should be brent and destroyed, in your heat, and then it fortuned\nme to do battle for her, and or I departed from her adversary they\nconfessed their untruth, and she full worshipfully excused. And at such\ntimes, my lord Arthur, said Sir Launcelot, ye loved me, and thanked me\nwhen I saved your queen from the fire; and then ye promised me for ever\nto be my good lord; and now methinketh ye reward me full ill for my\ngood service. And my good lord, meseemeth I had lost a great part of my\nworship in my knighthood an I had suffered my lady, your queen, to have\nbeen brent, and insomuch she should have been brent for my sake. For\nsithen I have done battles for your queen in other quarrels than in\nmine own, meseemeth now I had more right to do battle for her in right\nquarrel. And therefore my good and gracious lord, said Sir Launcelot,\ntake your queen unto your good grace, for she is both fair, true, and\ngood.\nFie on thee, false recreant knight, said Sir Gawaine; I let thee wit my\nlord, mine uncle, King Arthur, shall have his queen and thee, maugre\nthy visage, and slay you both whether it please him. It may well be,\nsaid Sir Launcelot, but wit you well, my lord Sir Gawaine, an me list\nto come out of this castle ye should win me and the queen more harder\nthan ever ye won a strong battle. Fie on thy proud words, said Sir\nGawaine; as for my lady, the queen, I will never say of her shame. But\nthou, false and recreant knight, said Sir Gawaine, what cause hadst\nthou to slay my good brother Sir Gareth, that loved thee more than all\nmy kin? Alas thou madest him knight thine own hands; why slew thou him\nthat loved thee so well? For to excuse me, said Sir Launcelot, it\nhelpeth me not, but by Jesu, and by the faith that I owe to the high\norder of knighthood, I should with as good will have slain my nephew,\nSir Bors de Ganis, at that time. But alas that ever I was so unhappy,\nsaid Launcelot, that I had not seen Sir Gareth and Sir Gaheris.\nThou liest, recreant knight, said Sir Gawaine, thou slewest him in\ndespite of me; and therefore, wit thou well I shall make war to thee,\nand all the while that I may live. That me repenteth, said Sir\nLauncelot; for well I understand it helpeth not to seek none accordment\nwhile ye, Sir Gawaine, are so mischievously set. And if ye were not, I\nwould not doubt to have the good grace of my lord Arthur. I believe it\nwell, false recreant knight, said Sir Gawaine; for thou hast many long\ndays overled me and us all, and destroyed many of our good knights. Ye\nsay as it pleaseth you, said Sir Launcelot; and yet may it never be\nsaid on me, and openly proved, that ever I by forecast of treason slew\nno good knight, as my lord, Sir Gawaine, ye have done; and so did I\nnever, but in my defence that I was driven thereto, in saving of my\nlife. Ah, false knight, said Sir Gawaine, that thou meanest by Sir\nLamorak: wit thou well I slew him. Ye slew him not yourself, said Sir\nLauncelot; it had been overmuch on hand for you to have slain him, for\nhe was one of the best knights christened of his age, and it was great\npity of his death.\nCHAPTER XII. How the cousins and kinsmen of Sir Launcelot excited him\nto go out to battle, and how they made them ready.\nWell, well, said Sir Gawaine to Launcelot, sithen thou enbraidest me of\nSir Lamorak, wit thou well I shall never leave thee till I have thee at\nsuch avail that thou shalt not escape my hands. I trust you well\nenough, said Sir Launcelot, an ye may get me I get but little mercy.\nBut as the French book saith, the noble King Arthur would have taken\nhis queen again, and have been accorded with Sir Launcelot, but Sir\nGawaine would not suffer him by no manner of mean. And then Sir Gawaine\nmade many men to blow upon Sir Launcelot; and all at once they called\nhim false recreant knight.\nThen when Sir Bors de Ganis, Sir Ector de Maris, and Sir Lionel, heard\nthis outcry, they called to them Sir Palomides, Sir Safere\u2019s brother,\nand Sir Lavaine, with many more of their blood, and all they went unto\nSir Launcelot, and said thus: My lord Sir Launcelot, wit ye well we\nhave great scorn of the great rebukes that we heard Gawaine say to you;\nwherefore we pray you, and charge you as ye will have our service, keep\nus no longer within these walls; for wit you well plainly, we will ride\ninto the field and do battle with them; for ye fare as a man that were\nafeard, and for all your fair speech it will not avail you. For wit you\nwell Sir Gawaine will not suffer you to be accorded with King Arthur,\nand therefore fight for your life and your right, an ye dare. Alas,\nsaid Sir Launcelot, for to ride out of this castle, and to do battle, I\nam full loath.\nThen Sir Launcelot spake on high unto Sir Arthur and Sir Gawaine: My\nlords, I require you and beseech you, sithen that I am thus required\nand conjured to ride into the field, that neither you, my lord King\nArthur, nor you Sir Gawaine, come not into the field. What shall we do\nthen? said Sir Gawaine, [N]is this the king\u2019s quarrel with thee to\nfight? and it is my quarrel to fight with thee, Sir Launcelot, because\nof the death of my brother Sir Gareth. Then must I needs unto battle,\nsaid Sir Launcelot. Now wit you well, my lord Arthur and Sir Gawaine,\nye will repent it whensomever I do battle with you.\nAnd so then they departed either from other; and then either party made\nthem ready on the morn for to do battle, and great purveyance was made\non both sides; and Sir Gawaine let purvey many knights for to wait upon\nSir Launcelot, for to overset him and to slay him. And on the morn at\nunderne Sir Arthur was ready in the field with three great hosts. And\nthen Sir Launcelot\u2019s fellowship came out at three gates, in a full good\narray; and Sir Lionel came in the foremost battle, and Sir Launcelot\ncame in the middle, and Sir Bors came out at the third gate. Thus they\ncame in order and rule, as full noble knights; and always Sir Launcelot\ncharged all his knights in any wise to save King Arthur and Sir\nGawaine.\nCHAPTER XIII. How Sir Gawaine jousted and smote down Sir Lionel, and\nhow Sir Launcelot horsed King Arthur.\nThen came forth Sir Gawaine from the king\u2019s host, and he came before\nand proffered to joust. And Sir Lionel was a fierce knight, and lightly\nhe encountered with Sir Gawaine; and there Sir Gawaine smote Sir Lionel\nthrough out the body, that he dashed to the earth like as he had been\ndead; and then Sir Ector de Maris and other more bare him into the\ncastle. Then there began a great stour, and much people was slain; and\never Sir Launcelot did what he might to save the people on King\nArthur\u2019s party, for Sir Palomides, and Sir Bors, and Sir Safere,\noverthrew many knights, for they were deadly knights. And Sir Blamore\nde Ganis, and Sir Bleoberis de Ganis, with Sir Bellangere le Beuse,\nthese six knights did much harm; and ever King Arthur was nigh about\nSir Launcelot to have slain him, and Sir Launcelot suffered him, and\nwould not strike again. So Sir Bors encountered with King Arthur, and\nthere with a spear Sir Bors smote him down; and so he alighted and drew\nhis sword, and said to Sir Launcelot: Shall I make an end of this war?\nand that he meant to have slain King Arthur. Not so hardy, said Sir\nLauncelot, upon pain of thy head, that thou touch him no more, for I\nwill never see that most noble king that made me knight neither slain\nne shamed. And therewithal Sir Launcelot alighted off his horse and\ntook up the king and horsed him again, and said thus: My lord Arthur,\nfor God\u2019s love stint this strife, for ye get here no worship, and I\nwould do mine utterance, but always I forbear you, and ye nor none of\nyours forbeareth me; my lord, remember what I have done in many places,\nand now I am evil rewarded.\nThen when King Arthur was on horseback, he looked upon Sir Launcelot,\nand then the tears brast out of his eyen, thinking on the great\ncourtesy that was in Sir Launcelot more than in any other man; and\ntherewith the king rode his way, and might no longer behold him, and\nsaid: Alas, that ever this war began. And then either parties of the\nbattles withdrew them to repose them, and buried the dead, and to the\nwounded men they laid soft salves; and thus they endured that night\ntill on the morn. And on the morn by underne they made them ready to do\nbattle. And then Sir Bors led the forward.\nSo upon the morn there came Sir Gawaine as brim as any boar, with a\ngreat spear in his hand. And when Sir Bors saw him he thought to\nrevenge his brother Sir Lionel of the despite that Sir Gawaine did him\nthe other day. And so they that knew either other feutred their spears,\nand with all their mights of their horses and themselves, they met\ntogether so felonously that either bare other through, and so they fell\nboth to the earth; and then the battles joined, and there was much\nslaughter on both parties. Then Sir Launcelot rescued Sir Bors, and\nsent him into the castle; but neither Sir Gawaine nor Sir Bors died not\nof their wounds, for they were all holpen. Then Sir Lavaine and Sir\nUrre prayed Sir Launcelot to do his pain, and fight as they had done;\nFor we see ye forbear and spare, and that doth much harm; therefore we\npray you spare not your enemies no more than they do you. Alas, said\nSir Launcelot, I have no heart to fight against my lord Arthur, for\never meseemeth I do not as I ought to do. My lord, said Sir Palomides,\nthough ye spare them all this day they will never con you thank; and if\nthey may get you at avail ye are but dead. So then Sir Launcelot\nunderstood that they said him truth; and then he strained himself more\nthan he did aforehand, and because his nephew Sir Bors was sore\nwounded. And then within a little while, by evensong time, Sir\nLauncelot and his party better stood, for their horses went in blood\npast the fetlocks, there was so much people slain. And then for pity\nSir Launcelot withheld his knights, and suffered King Arthur\u2019s party\nfor to withdraw them aside. And then Sir Launcelot\u2019s party withdrew\nthem into his castle, and either parties buried the dead, and put salve\nunto the wounded men.\nSo when Sir Gawaine was hurt, they on King Arthur\u2019s party were not so\norgulous as they were toforehand to do battle. Of this war was noised\nthrough all Christendom, and at the last it was noised afore the Pope;\nand he considering the great goodness of King Arthur, and of Sir\nLauncelot, that was called the most noblest knights of the world,\nwherefore the Pope called unto him a noble clerk that at that time was\nthere present; the French book saith, it was the Bishop of Rochester;\nand the Pope gave him bulls under lead unto King Arthur of England,\ncharging him upon pain of interdicting of all England, that he take his\nqueen Dame Guenever unto him again, and accord with Sir Launcelot.\nCHAPTER XIV. How the Pope sent down his bulls to make peace, and how\nSir Launcelot brought the queen to King Arthur.\nSo when this Bishop was come to Carlisle he shewed the king these\nbulls. And when the king understood these bulls he nist what to do:\nfull fain he would have been accorded with Sir Launcelot, but Sir\nGawaine would not suffer him; but as for to have the queen, thereto he\nagreed. But in nowise Sir Gawaine would not suffer the king to accord\nwith Sir Launcelot; but as for the queen he consented. And then the\nBishop had of the king his great seal, and his assurance as he was a\ntrue anointed king that Sir Launcelot should come safe, and go safe,\nand that the queen should not be spoken unto of the king, nor of none\nother, for no thing done afore time past; and of all these appointments\nthe Bishop brought with him sure assurance and writing, to shew Sir\nLauncelot.\nSo when the Bishop was come to Joyous Gard, there he shewed Sir\nLauncelot how the Pope had written to Arthur and unto him, and there he\ntold him the perils if he withheld the queen from the king. It was\nnever in my thought, said Launcelot, to withhold the queen from my lord\nArthur; but, insomuch she should have been dead for my sake, meseemeth\nit was my part to save her life, and put her from that danger, till\nbetter recover might come. And now I thank God, said Sir Launcelot,\nthat the Pope hath made her peace; for God knoweth, said Sir Launcelot,\nI will be a thousandfold more gladder to bring her again, than ever I\nwas of her taking away; with this, I may be sure to come safe and go\nsafe, and that the queen shall have her liberty as she had before; and\nnever for no thing that hath been surmised afore this time, she never\nfrom this day stand in no peril. For else, said Sir Launcelot, I dare\nadventure me to keep her from an harder shour than ever I kept her. It\nshall not need you, said the Bishop, to dread so much; for wit you\nwell, the Pope must be obeyed, and it were not the Pope\u2019s worship nor\nmy poor honesty to wit you distressed, neither the queen, neither in\nperil, nor shamed. And then he shewed Sir Launcelot all his writing,\nboth from the Pope and from King Arthur. This is sure enough, said Sir\nLauncelot, for full well I dare trust my lord\u2019s own writing and his\nseal, for he was never shamed of his promise. Therefore, said Sir\nLauncelot unto the Bishop, ye shall ride unto the king afore, and\nrecommend me unto his good grace, and let him have knowledging that\nthis same day eight days, by the grace of God, I myself shall bring my\nlady, Queen Guenever, unto him. And then say ye unto my most redoubted\nking, that I will say largely for the queen, that I shall none except\nfor dread nor fear, but the king himself, and my lord Sir Gawaine; and\nthat is more for the king\u2019s love than for himself.\nSo the Bishop departed and came to the king at Carlisle, and told him\nall how Sir Launcelot answered him; and then the tears brast out of the\nking\u2019s eyen. Then Sir Launcelot purveyed him an hundred knights, and\nall were clothed in green velvet, and their horses trapped to their\nheels; and every knight held a branch of olive in his hand, in tokening\nof peace. And the queen had four-and-twenty gentlewomen following her\nin the same wise; and Sir Launcelot had twelve coursers following him,\nand on every courser sat a young gentleman, and all they were arrayed\nin green velvet, with sarps of gold about their quarters, and the horse\ntrapped in the same wise down to the heels, with many ouches, y-set\nwith stones and pearls in gold, to the number of a thousand. And she\nand Sir Launcelot were clothed in white cloth of gold tissue; and right\nso as ye have heard, as the French book maketh mention, he rode with\nthe queen from Joyous Gard to Carlisle. And so Sir Launcelot rode\nthroughout Carlisle, and so in the castle, that all men might behold;\nand wit you well there was many a weeping eye. And then Sir Launcelot\nhimself alighted and avoided his horse, and took the queen, and so led\nher where King Arthur was in his seat: and Sir Gawaine sat afore him,\nand many other great lords. So when Sir Launcelot saw the king and Sir\nGawaine, then he led the queen by the arm, and then he kneeled down,\nand the queen both. Wit you well then was there many bold knight there\nwith King Arthur that wept as tenderly as though they had seen all\ntheir kin afore them. So the king sat still, and said no word. And when\nSir Launcelot saw his countenance, he arose and pulled up the queen\nwith him, and thus he spake full knightly.\nCHAPTER XV. Of the deliverance of the queen to the king by Sir\nLauncelot, and what language Sir Gawaine had to Sir Launcelot.\nMy most redoubted king, ye shall understand, by the Pope\u2019s commandment\nand yours, I have brought to you my lady the queen, as right requireth;\nand if there be any knight, of whatsomever degree that he be, except\nyour person, that will say or dare say but that she is true and clean\nto you, I here myself, Sir Launcelot du Lake, will make it good upon\nhis body, that she is a true lady unto you; but liars ye have listened,\nand that hath caused debate betwixt you and me. For time hath been, my\nlord Arthur, that ye have been greatly pleased with me when I did\nbattle for my lady, your queen; and full well ye know, my most noble\nking, that she hath been put to great wrong or this time; and sithen it\npleased you at many times that I should fight for her, meseemeth, my\ngood lord, I had more cause to rescue her from the fire, insomuch she\nshould have been brent for my sake. For they that told you those tales\nwere liars, and so it fell upon them; for by likelihood had not the\nmight of God been with me, I might never have endured fourteen knights,\nand they armed and afore purposed, and I unarmed and not purposed. For\nI was sent for unto my lady your queen, I wot not for what cause; but I\nwas not so soon within the chamber door, but anon Sir Agravaine and Sir\nMordred called me traitor and recreant knight. They called thee right,\nsaid Sir Gawaine. My lord Sir Gawaine, said Sir Launcelot, in their\nquarrel they proved themselves not in the right. Well well, Sir\nLauncelot, said the king, I have given thee no cause to do to me as\nthou hast done, for I have worshipped thee and thine more than any of\nall my knights.\nMy good lord, said Sir Launcelot, so ye be not displeased, ye shall\nunderstand I and mine have done you oft better service than any other\nknights have done, in many divers places; and where ye have been full\nhard bestead divers times, I have myself rescued you from many dangers;\nand ever unto my power I was glad to please you, and my lord Sir\nGawaine; both in jousts, and tournaments, and in battles set, both on\nhorseback and on foot, I have often rescued you, and my lord Sir\nGawaine, and many mo of your knights in many divers places. For now I\nwill make avaunt, said Sir Launcelot, I will that ye all wit that yet I\nfound never no manner of knight but that I was overhard for him, an I\nhad done my utterance, thanked be God; howbeit I have been matched with\ngood knights, as Sir Tristram and Sir Lamorak, but ever I had a favour\nunto them and a deeming what they were. And I take God to record, said\nSir Launcelot, I never was wroth nor greatly heavy with no good knight\nan I saw him busy about to win worship; and glad I was ever when I\nfound any knight that might endure me on horseback and on foot: howbeit\nSir Carados of the Dolorous Tower was a full noble knight and a passing\nstrong man, and that wot ye, my lord Sir Gawaine; for he might well be\ncalled a noble knight when he by fine force pulled you out of your\nsaddle, and bound you overthwart afore him to his saddle bow; and\nthere, my lord Sir Gawaine, I rescued you, and slew him afore your\nsight. Also I found his brother, Sir Turquin, in likewise leading Sir\nGaheris, your brother, bounden afore him; and there I rescued your\nbrother and slew that Turquin, and delivered three-score-and-four of my\nlord Arthur\u2019s knights out of his prison. And now I dare say, said Sir\nLauncelot, I met never with so strong knights, nor so well fighting, as\nwas Sir Carados and Sir Turquin, for I fought with them to the\nuttermost. And therefore, said Sir Launcelot unto Sir Gawaine,\nmeseemeth ye ought of right to remember this; for, an I might have your\ngood will, I would trust to God to have my lord Arthur\u2019s good grace.\nCHAPTER XVI. Of the communication between Sir Gawaine and Sir\nLauncelot, with much other language.\nThe king may do as he will, said Sir Gawaine, but wit thou well, Sir\nLauncelot, thou and I shall never be accorded while we live, for thou\nhast slain three of my brethren; and two of them ye slew traitorly and\npiteously, for they bare none harness against thee, nor none would\nbear. God would they had been armed, said Sir Launcelot, for then had\nthey been alive. And wit ye well Sir Gawaine, as for Sir Gareth, I love\nnone of my kinsmen so much as I did him; and ever while I live, said\nSir Launcelot, I will bewail Sir Gareth\u2019s death, not all only for the\ngreat fear I have of you, but many causes cause me to be sorrowful. One\nis, for I made him knight; another is, I wot well he loved me above all\nother knights; and the third is, he was passing noble, true, courteous,\nand gentle, and well conditioned; the fourth is, I wist well, anon as I\nheard that Sir Gareth was dead, I should never after have your love,\nbut everlasting war betwixt us; and also I wist well that ye would\ncause my noble lord Arthur for ever to be my mortal foe. And as Jesu be\nmy help, said Sir Launcelot, I slew never Sir Gareth nor Sir Gaheris by\nmy will; but alas that ever they were unarmed that unhappy day. But\nthus much I shall offer me, said Sir Launcelot, if it may please the\nking\u2019s good grace, and you, my lord Sir Gawaine, I shall first begin at\nSandwich, and there I shall go in my shirt, barefoot; and at every ten\nmiles\u2019 end I will found and gar make an house of religion, of what\norder that ye will assign me, with an whole convent, to sing and read,\nday and night, in especial for Sir Gareth\u2019s sake and Sir Gaheris. And\nthis shall I perform from Sandwich unto Carlisle; and every house shall\nhave sufficient livelihood. And this shall I perform while I have any\nlivelihood in Christendom; and there nis none of all these religious\nplaces, but they shall be performed, furnished and garnished in all\nthings as an holy place ought to be, I promise you faithfully. And\nthis, Sir Gawaine, methinketh were more fairer, holier, and more better\nto their souls, than ye, my most noble king, and you, Sir Gawaine, to\nwar upon me, for thereby shall ye get none avail.\nThen all knights and ladies that were there wept as they were mad, and\nthe tears fell on King Arthur\u2019s cheeks. Sir Launcelot, said Sir\nGawaine, I have right well heard thy speech, and thy great proffers,\nbut wit thou well, let the king do as it pleased him, I will never\nforgive my brothers\u2019 death, and in especial the death of my brother,\nSir Gareth. And if mine uncle, King Arthur, will accord with thee, he\nshall lose my service, for wit thou well thou art both false to the\nking and to me. Sir, said Launcelot, he beareth not the life that may\nmake that good; and if ye, Sir Gawaine, will charge me with so high a\nthing, ye must pardon me, for then needs must I answer you. Nay, said\nSir Gawaine, we are past that at this time, and that caused the Pope,\nfor he hath charged mine uncle, the king, that he shall take his queen\nagain, and to accord with thee, Sir Launcelot, as for this season, and\ntherefore thou shalt go safe as thou camest. But in this land thou\nshalt not abide past fifteen days, such summons I give thee: so the\nking and we were consented and accorded or thou camest. And else, said\nSir Gawaine, wit thou well thou shouldst not have come here, but if it\nwere maugre thy head. And if it were not for the Pope\u2019s commandment,\nsaid Sir Gawaine, I should do battle with mine own body against thy\nbody, and prove it upon thee, that thou hast been both false unto mine\nuncle King Arthur, and to me both; and that shall I prove upon thy\nbody, when thou art departed from hence, wheresomever I find thee.\nCHAPTER XVII. How Sir Launcelot departed from the king and from Joyous\nGard over seaward, and what knights went with him.\nThen Sir Launcelot sighed, and therewith the tears fell on his cheeks,\nand then he said thus: Alas, most noble Christian realm, whom I have\nloved above all other realms, and in thee I have gotten a great part of\nmy worship, and now I shall depart in this wise. Truly me repenteth\nthat ever I came in this realm, that should be thus shamefully\nbanished, undeserved and causeless; but fortune is so variant, and the\nwheel so moveable, there nis none constant abiding, and that may be\nproved by many old chronicles, of noble Ector, and Troilus, and\nAlisander, the mighty conqueror, and many mo other; when they were most\nin their royalty, they alighted lowest. And so fareth it by me, said\nSir Launcelot, for in this realm I had worship, and by me and mine all\nthe whole Round Table hath been increased more in worship, by me and\nmine blood, than by any other. And therefore wit thou well, Sir\nGawaine, I may live upon my lands as well as any knight that here is.\nAnd if ye, most redoubted king, will come upon my lands with Sir\nGawaine to war upon me, I must endure you as well as I may. But as to\nyou, Sir Gawaine, if that ye come there, I pray you charge me not with\ntreason nor felony, for an ye do, I must answer you. Do thou thy best,\nsaid Sir Gawaine; therefore hie thee fast that thou were gone, and wit\nthou well we shall soon come after, and break the strongest castle that\nthou hast, upon thy head. That shall not need, said Sir Launcelot, for\nan I were as orgulous set as ye are, wit you well I should meet you in\nmidst of the field. Make thou no more language, said Sir Gawaine, but\ndeliver the queen from thee, and pike thee lightly out of this court.\nWell, said Sir Launcelot, an I had wist of this short coming, I would\nhave advised me twice or that I had come hither; for an the queen had\nbeen so dear to me as ye noise her, I durst have kept her from the\nfellowship of the best knights under heaven.\nAnd then Sir Launcelot said unto Guenever, in hearing of the king and\nthem all: Madam, now I must depart from you and this noble fellowship\nfor ever; and sithen it is so, I beseech you to pray for me, and say me\nwell; and if ye be hard bestead by any false tongues, lightly my lady\nsend me word, and if any knight\u2019s hands may deliver you by battle, I\nshall deliver you. And therewithal Sir Launcelot kissed the queen; and\nthen he said all openly. Now let see what he be in this place that dare\nsay the queen is not true unto my lord Arthur, let see who will speak\nan he dare speak. And therewith he brought the queen to the king, and\nthen Sir Launcelot took his leave and departed; and there was neither\nking, duke, nor earl, baron nor knight, lady nor gentlewoman, but all\nthey wept as people out of their mind, except Sir Gawaine. And when the\nnoble Sir Launcelot took his horse to ride out of Carlisle, there was\nsobbing and weeping for pure dole of his departing; and so he took his\nway unto Joyous Gard. And then ever after he called it the Dolorous\nGard. And thus departed Sir Launcelot from the court for ever.\nAnd so when he came to Joyous Gard he called his fellowship unto him,\nand asked them what they would do. Then they answered all wholly\ntogether with one voice they would as he would do. My fair fellows,\nsaid Sir Launcelot, I must depart out of this most noble realm, and now\nI shall depart it grieveth me sore, for I shall depart with no worship,\nfor a flemed man departed never out of a realm with no worship; and\nthat is my heaviness, for ever I fear after my days that men shall\nchronicle upon me that I was flemed out of this land; and else, my fair\nlords, be ye sure, an I had not dread shame, my lady, Queen Guenever,\nand I should never have departed.\nThen spake many noble knights, as Sir Palomides, Sir Safere his\nbrother, and Sir Bellingere le Beuse, and Sir Urre, with Sir Lavaine,\nwith many others: Sir, an ye be so disposed to abide in this land we\nwill never fail you; and if ye list not to abide in this land there nis\nnone of the good knights that here be will fail you, for many causes.\nOne is, all we that be not of your blood shall never be welcome to the\ncourt. And sithen it liked us to take a part with you in your distress\nand heaviness in this realm, wit you well it shall like us as well to\ngo in other countries with you, and there to take such part as ye do.\nMy fair lords, said Sir Launcelot, I well understand you, and as I can,\nthank you: and ye shall understand, such livelihood as I am born unto I\nshall depart with you in this manner of wise; that is for to say, I\nshall depart all my livelihood and all my lands freely among you, and I\nmyself will have as little as any of you, for have I sufficient that\nmay long to my person, I will ask none other rich array; and I trust to\nGod to maintain you on my lands as well as ever were maintained any\nknights. Then spake all the knights at once: He have shame that will\nleave you; for we all understand in this realm will be now no quiet,\nbut ever strife and debate, now the fellowship of the Round Table is\nbroken; for by the noble fellowship of the Round Table was King Arthur\nupborne, and by their noblesse the king and all his realm was in quiet\nand rest, and a great part they said all was because of your noblesse.\nCHAPTER XVIII. How Sir Launcelot passed over the sea, and how he made\ngreat lords of the knights that went with him.\nTruly, said Sir Launcelot, I thank you all of your good saying,\nhowbeit, I wot well, in me was not all the stability of this realm, but\nin that I might I did my devoir; and well I am sure I knew many\nrebellions in my days that by me were peaced, and I trow we all shall\nhear of them in short space, and that me sore repenteth. For ever I\ndread me, said Sir Launcelot, that Sir Mordred will make trouble, for\nhe is passing envious and applieth him to trouble. So they were\naccorded to go with Sir Launcelot to his lands; and to make short tale,\nthey trussed, and paid all that would ask them; and wholly an hundred\nknights departed with Sir Launcelot at once, and made their avows they\nwould never leave him for weal nor for woe.\nAnd so they shipped at Cardiff, and sailed unto Benwick: some men call\nit Bayonne, and some men call it Beaune, where the wine of Beaune is.\nBut to say the sooth, Sir Launcelot and his nephews were lords of all\nFrance, and of all the lands that longed unto France; he and his\nkindred rejoiced it all through Sir Launcelot\u2019s noble prowess. And then\nSir Launcelot stuffed and furnished and garnished all his noble towns\nand castles. Then all the people of those lands came to Sir Launcelot\non foot and hands. And so when he had stablished all these countries,\nhe shortly called a parliament; and there he crowned Sir Lionel, King\nof France; and Sir Bors [he] crowned him king of all King Claudas\u2019\nlands; and Sir Ector de Maris, that was Sir Launcelot\u2019s youngest\nbrother, he crowned him King of Benwick, and king of all Guienne, that\nwas Sir Launcelot\u2019s own land. And he made Sir Ector prince of them all,\nand thus he departed.\nThen Sir Launcelot advanced all his noble knights, and first he\nadvanced them of his blood; that was Sir Blamore, he made him Duke of\nLimosin in Guienne and Sir Bleoberis he made him Duke of Poictiers, and\nSir Gahalantine he made him Duke of Querne, and Sir Galihodin he made\nhim Duke of Sentonge, and Sir Galihud he made him Earl of Perigot, and\nSir Menadeuke he made him Earl of Roerge, and Sir Villiars the Valiant\nhe made him Earl of Bearn, and Sir Hebes le Renoumes he made him Earl\nof Comange, and Sir Lavaine he made him Earl of Arminak, and Sir Urre\nhe made him Earl of Estrake, and Sir Neroneus he made him Earl of\nPardiak, and Sir Plenorius he made Earl of Foise, and Sir Selises of\nthe Dolorous Tower he made him Earl of Masauke, and Sir Melias de Lile\nhe made him Earl of Tursauk, and Sir Bellangere le Beuse he made Earl\nof the Launds, and Sir Palomides he made him Duke of the Provence, and\nSir Safere he made him Duke of Landok, and Sir Clegis he gave him the\nEarldom of Agente, and Sir Sadok he gave the Earldom of Surlat, and Sir\nDinas le Seneschal he made him Duke of Anjou, and Sir Clarrus he made\nhim Duke of Normandy. Thus Sir Launcelot rewarded his noble knights and\nmany more, that meseemeth it were too long to rehearse.\nCHAPTER XIX. How King Arthur and Sir Gawaine made a great host ready to\ngo over sea to make war on Sir Launcelot.\nSo leave we Sir Launcelot in his lands, and his noble knights with him,\nand return we again unto King Arthur and to Sir Gawaine, that made a\ngreat host ready, to the number of threescore thousand; and all thing\nwas made ready for their shipping to pass over the sea, and so they\nshipped at Cardiff. And there King Arthur made Sir Mordred chief ruler\nof all England, and also he put Queen Guenever under his governance;\nbecause Sir Mordred was King Arthur\u2019s son, he gave him the rule of his\nland and of his wife; and so the king passed the sea and landed upon\nSir Launcelot\u2019s lands, and there he brent and wasted, through the\nvengeance of Sir Gawaine, all that they might overrun.\nWhen this word came to Sir Launcelot, that King Arthur and Sir Gawaine\nwere landed upon his lands, and made a full great destruction and\nwaste, then spake Sir Bors, and said: My lord Sir Launcelot, it is\nshame that we suffer them thus to ride over our lands, for wit you\nwell, suffer ye them as long as ye will, they will do you no favour an\nthey may handle you. Then said Sir Lionel that was wary and wise: My\nlord Sir Launcelot, I will give this counsel, let us keep our strong\nwalled towns until they have hunger and cold, and blow on their nails;\nand then let us freshly set upon them, and shred them down as sheep in\na field, that aliens may take example for ever how they land upon our\nlands.\nThen spake King Bagdemagus to Sir Launcelot: Sir, your courtesy will\nshende us all, and thy courtesy hath waked all this sorrow; for an they\nthus over our lands ride, they shall by process bring us all to nought\nwhilst we thus in holes us hide. Then said Sir Galihud unto Sir\nLauncelot: Sir, here be knights come of kings\u2019 blood, that will not\nlong droop, and they are within these walls; therefore give us leave,\nlike as we be knights, to meet them in the field, and we shall slay\nthem, that they shall curse the time that ever they came into this\ncountry. Then spake seven brethren of North Wales, and they were seven\nnoble knights; a man might seek in seven kings\u2019 lands or he might find\nsuch seven knights. Then they all said at once: Sir Launcelot, for\nChrist\u2019s sake let us out ride with Sir Galihud, for we be never wont to\ncower in castles nor in noble towns.\nThen spake Sir Launcelot, that was master and governor of them all: My\nfair lords, wit you well I am full loath to ride out with my knights\nfor shedding of Christian blood; and yet my lands I understand be full\nbare for to sustain any host awhile, for the mighty wars that whilom\nmade King Claudas upon this country, upon my father King Ban, and on\nmine uncle King Bors; howbeit we will as at this time keep our strong\nwalls, and I shall send a messenger unto my lord Arthur, a treaty for\nto take; for better is peace than always war.\nSo Sir Launcelot sent forth a damosel and a dwarf with her, requiring\nKing Arthur to leave his warring upon his lands; and so she start upon\na palfrey, and the dwarf ran by her side. And when she came to the\npavilion of King Arthur, there she alighted; and there met her a gentle\nknight, Sir Lucan the Butler, and said: Fair damosel, come ye from Sir\nLauncelot du Lake? Yea sir, she said, therefore I come hither to speak\nwith my lord the king. Alas, said Sir Lucan, my lord Arthur would love\nLauncelot, but Sir Gawaine will not suffer him. And then he said: I\npray to God, damosel, ye may speed well, for all we that be about the\nking would Sir Launcelot did best of any knight living. And so with\nthis Lucan led the damosel unto the king where he sat with Sir Gawaine,\nfor to hear what she would say. So when she had told her tale, the\nwater ran out of the king\u2019s eyen, and all the lords were full glad for\nto advise the king as to be accorded with Sir Launcelot, save all only\nSir Gawaine, and he said: My lord mine uncle, what will ye do? Will ye\nnow turn again, now ye are passed thus far upon this journey? all the\nworld will speak of your villainy. Nay, said Arthur, wit thou well, Sir\nGawaine, I will do as ye will advise me; and yet meseemeth, said\nArthur, his fair proffers were not good to be refused; but sithen I am\ncome so far upon this journey, I will that ye give the damosel her\nanswer, for I may not speak to her for pity, for her proffers be so\nlarge.\nCHAPTER XX. What message Sir Gawaine sent to Sir Launcelot; and how\nKing Arthur laid siege to Benwick, and other matters.\nThen Sir Gawaine said to the damosel thus: Damosel, say ye to Sir\nLauncelot that it is waste labour now to sue to mine uncle; for tell\nhim, an he would have made any labour for peace, he should have made it\nor this time, for tell him now it is too late; and say that I, Sir\nGawaine, so send him word, that I promise him by the faith I owe unto\nGod and to knighthood, I shall never leave him till he have slain me or\nI him. So the damosel wept and departed, and there were many weeping\neyen; and so Sir Lucan brought the damosel to her palfrey, and so she\ncame to Sir Launcelot where he was among all his knights. And when Sir\nLauncelot had heard this answer, then the tears ran down by his cheeks.\nAnd then his noble knights strode about him, and said: Sir Launcelot,\nwherefore make ye such cheer, think what ye are, and what men we are,\nand let us noble knights match them in midst of the field. That may be\nlightly done, said Sir Launcelot, but I was never so loath to do\nbattle, and therefore I pray you, fair sirs, as ye love me, be ruled as\nI will have you, for I will always flee that noble king that made me\nknight. And when I may no further, I must needs defend me, and that\nwill be more worship for me and us all than to compare with that noble\nking whom we have all served. Then they held their language, and as\nthat night they took their rest.\nAnd upon the morn early, in the dawning of the day, as knights looked\nout, they saw the city of Benwick besieged round about; and fast they\nbegan to set up ladders, and then they defied them out of the town, and\nbeat them from the walls wightly. Then came forth Sir Gawaine well\narmed upon a stiff steed, and he came before the chief gate, with his\nspear in his hand, crying: Sir Launcelot, where art thou? is there none\nof you proud knights dare break a spear with me? Then Sir Bors made him\nready, and came forth out of the town, and there Sir Gawaine\nencountered with Sir Bors. And at that time he smote Sir Bors down from\nhis horse, and almost he had slain him; and so Sir Bors was rescued and\nborne into the town. Then came forth Sir Lionel, brother to Sir Bors,\nand thought to revenge him; and either feutred their spears, and ran\ntogether; and there they met spitefully, but Sir Gawaine had such grace\nthat he smote Sir Lionel down, and wounded him there passing sore; and\nthen Sir Lionel was rescued and borne into the town. And this Sir\nGawaine came every day, and he failed not but that he smote down one\nknight or other.\nSo thus they endured half a year, and much slaughter was of people on\nboth parties. Then it befell upon a day, Sir Gawaine came afore the\ngates armed at all pieces on a noble horse, with a great spear in his\nhand; and then he cried with a loud voice: Where art thou now, thou\nfalse traitor, Sir Launcelot? Why hidest thou thyself within holes and\nwalls like a coward? Look out now, thou false traitor knight, and here\nI shall revenge upon thy body the death of my three brethren. All this\nlanguage heard Sir Launcelot every deal; and his kin and his knights\ndrew about him, and all they said at once to Sir Launcelot: Sir\nLauncelot, now must ye defend you like a knight, or else ye be shamed\nfor ever; for, now ye be called upon treason, it is time for you to\nstir, for ye have slept over-long and suffered over-much. So God me\nhelp, said Sir Launcelot, I am right heavy of Sir Gawaine\u2019s words, for\nnow he charged me with a great charge; and therefore I wot it as well\nas ye, that I must defend me, or else to be recreant.\nThen Sir Launcelot bade saddle his strongest horse, and bade let fetch\nhis arms, and bring all unto the gate of the tower; and then Sir\nLauncelot spake on high unto King Arthur, and said: My lord Arthur, and\nnoble king that made me knight, wit you well I am right heavy for your\nsake, that ye thus sue upon me; and always I forbare you, for an I\nwould have been vengeable, I might have met you in midst of the field,\nand there to have made your boldest knights full tame. And now I have\nforborne half a year, and suffered you and Sir Gawaine to do what ye\nwould do; and now may I endure it no longer, for now must I needs\ndefend myself, insomuch Sir Gawaine hath appealed me of treason; the\nwhich is greatly against my will that ever I should fight against any\nof your blood, but now I may not forsake it, I am driven thereto as a\nbeast till a bay.\nThen Sir Gawaine said: Sir Launcelot, an thou durst do battle, leave\nthy babbling and come off, and let us ease our hearts. Then Sir\nLauncelot armed him lightly, and mounted upon his horse, and either of\nthe knights gat great spears in their hands, and the host without stood\nstill all apart, and the noble knights came out of the city by a great\nnumber, insomuch that when Arthur saw the number of men and knights, he\nmarvelled, and said to himself: Alas, that ever Sir Launcelot was\nagainst me, for now I see he hath forborne me. And so the covenant was\nmade, there should no man nigh them, nor deal with them, till the one\nwere dead or yelden.\nCHAPTER XXI. How Sir Launcelot and Sir Gawaine did battle together, and\nhow Sir Gawaine was overthrown and hurt.\nThen Sir Gawaine and Sir Launcelot departed a great way asunder, and\nthen they came together with all their horses\u2019 might as they might run,\nand either smote other in midst of their shields; but the knights were\nso strong, and their spears so big, that their horses might not endure\ntheir buffets, and so their horses fell to the earth; and then they\navoided their horses, and dressed their shields afore them. Then they\nstood together and gave many sad strokes on divers places of their\nbodies, that the blood brast out on many sides and places. Then had Sir\nGawaine such a grace and gift that an holy man had given to him, that\nevery day in the year, from underne till high noon, his might increased\nthose three hours as much as thrice his strength, and that caused Sir\nGawaine to win great honour. And for his sake King Arthur made an\nordinance, that all manner of battles for any quarrels that should be\ndone afore King Arthur should begin at underne; and all was done for\nSir Gawaine\u2019s love, that by likelihood, if Sir Gawaine were on the one\npart, he should have the better in battle while his strength endureth\nthree hours; but there were but few knights that time living that knew\nthis advantage that Sir Gawaine had, but King Arthur all only.\nThus Sir Launcelot fought with Sir Gawaine, and when Sir Launcelot felt\nhis might evermore increase, Sir Launcelot wondered and dread him sore\nto be shamed. For as the French book saith, Sir Launcelot weened, when\nhe felt Sir Gawaine double his strength, that he had been a fiend and\nnone earthly man; wherefore Sir Launcelot traced and traversed, and\ncovered himself with his shield, and kept his might and his braide\nduring three hours; and that while Sir Gawaine gave him many sad\nbrunts, and many sad strokes, that all the knights that beheld Sir\nLauncelot marvelled how that he might endure him; but full little\nunderstood they that travail that Sir Launcelot had for to endure him.\nAnd then when it was past noon Sir Gawaine had no more but his own\nmight. When Sir Launcelot felt him so come down, then he stretched him\nup and stood near Sir Gawaine, and said thus: My lord Sir Gawaine, now\nI feel ye have done; now my lord Sir Gawaine, I must do my part, for\nmany great and grievous strokes I have endured you this day with great\npain.\nThen Sir Launcelot doubled his strokes and gave Sir Gawaine such a\nbuffet on the helmet that he fell down on his side, and Sir Launcelot\nwithdrew him from him. Why withdrawest thou thee? said Sir Gawaine; now\nturn again, false traitor knight, and slay me, for an thou leave me\nthus, when I am whole I shall do battle with thee again. I shall endure\nyou, Sir, by God\u2019s grace, but wit thou well, Sir Gawaine, I will never\nsmite a felled knight. And so Sir Launcelot went into the city; and Sir\nGawaine was borne into King Arthur\u2019s pavilion, and leeches were brought\nto him, and searched and salved with soft ointments. And then Sir\nLauncelot said: Now have good day, my lord the king, for wit you well\nye win no worship at these walls; and if I would my knights outbring,\nthere should many a man die. Therefore, my lord Arthur, remember you of\nold kindness; and however I fare, Jesu be your guide in all places.\nCHAPTER XXII. Of the sorrow that King Arthur made for the war, and of\nanother battle where also Sir Gawaine had the worse.\nAlas, said the king, that ever this unhappy war was begun; for ever Sir\nLauncelot forbeareth me in all places, and in likewise my kin, and that\nis seen well this day by my nephew Sir Gawaine. Then King Arthur fell\nsick for sorrow of Sir Gawaine, that he was so sore hurt, and because\nof the war betwixt him and Sir Launcelot. So then they on King Arthur\u2019s\npart kept the siege with little war withoutforth; and they withinforth\nkept their walls, and defended them when need was. Thus Sir Gawaine lay\nsick three weeks in his tents, with all manner of leech-craft that\nmight be had. And as soon as Sir Gawaine might go and ride, he armed\nhim at all points, and start upon a courser, and gat a spear in his\nhand, and so he came riding afore the chief gate of Benwick; and there\nhe cried on height: Where art thou, Sir Launcelot? Come forth, thou\nfalse traitor knight and recreant, for I am here, Sir Gawaine, will\nprove this that I say on thee.\nAll this language Sir Launcelot heard, and then he said thus: Sir\nGawaine, me repents of your foul saying, that ye will not cease of your\nlanguage; for you wot well, Sir Gawaine, I know your might and all that\nye may do; and well ye wot, Sir Gawaine, ye may not greatly hurt me.\nCome down, traitor knight, said he, and make it good the contrary with\nthy hands, for it mishapped me the last battle to be hurt of thy hands;\ntherefore wit thou well I am come this day to make amends, for I ween\nthis day to lay thee as low as thou laidest me. Jesu defend me, said\nSir Launcelot, that ever I be so far in your danger as ye have been in\nmine, for then my days were done. But Sir Gawaine, said Sir Launcelot,\nye shall not think that I tarry long, but sithen that ye so unknightly\ncall me of treason, ye shall have both your hands full of me. And then\nSir Launcelot armed him at all points, and mounted upon his horse, and\ngat a great spear in his hand, and rode out at the gate. And both the\nhosts were assembled, of them without and of them within, and stood in\narray full manly. And both parties were charged to hold them still, to\nsee and behold the battle of these two noble knights. And then they\nlaid their spears in their rests, and they came together as thunder,\nand Sir Gawaine brake his spear upon Sir Launcelot in a hundred pieces\nunto his hand; and Sir Launcelot smote him with a greater might, that\nSir Gawaine\u2019s horse\u2019s feet raised, and so the horse and he fell to the\nearth. Then Sir Gawaine deliverly avoided his horse, and put his shield\nafore him, and eagerly drew his sword, and bade Sir Launcelot: Alight,\ntraitor knight, for if this mare\u2019s son hath failed me, wit thou well a\nking\u2019s son and a queen\u2019s son shall not fail thee.\nThen Sir Launcelot avoided his horse, and dressed his shield afore him,\nand drew his sword; and so stood they together and gave many sad\nstrokes, that all men on both parties had thereof passing great wonder.\nBut when Sir Launcelot felt Sir Gawaine\u2019s might so marvellously\nincrease, he then withheld his courage and his wind, and kept himself\nwonder covert of his might; and under his shield he traced and\ntraversed here and there, to break Sir Gawaine\u2019s strokes and his\ncourage; and Sir Gawaine enforced himself with all his might and power\nto destroy Sir Launcelot; for as the French book saith, ever as Sir\nGawaine\u2019s might increased, right so increased his wind and his evil\nwill. Thus Sir Gawaine did great pain unto Sir Launcelot three hours,\nthat he had right great pain for to defend him.\nAnd when the three hours were passed, that Sir Launcelot felt that Sir\nGawaine was come to his own proper strength, then Sir Launcelot said\nunto Sir Gawaine: Now have I proved you twice, that ye are a full\ndangerous knight, and a wonderful man of your might; and many wonderful\ndeeds have ye done in your days, for by your might increasing you have\ndeceived many a full noble and valiant knight; and, now I feel that ye\nhave done your mighty deeds, now wit you well I must do my deeds. And\nthen Sir Launcelot stood near Sir Gawaine, and then Sir Launcelot\ndoubled his strokes; and Sir Gawaine defended him mightily, but\nnevertheless Sir Launcelot smote such a stroke upon Sir Gawaine\u2019s helm,\nand upon the old wound, that Sir Gawaine sinked down upon his one side\nin a swoon. And anon as he did awake he waved and foined at Sir\nLauncelot as he lay, and said: Traitor knight, wit thou well I am not\nyet slain, come thou near me and perform this battle unto the\nuttermost. I will no more do than I have done, said Sir Launcelot, for\nwhen I see you on foot I will do battle upon you all the while I see\nyou stand on your feet; but for to smite a wounded man that may not\nstand, God defend me from such a shame. And then he turned him and went\nhis way toward the city. And Sir Gawaine evermore calling him traitor\nknight, and said: Wit thou well Sir Launcelot, when I am whole I shall\ndo battle with thee again, for I shall never leave thee till that one\nof us be slain. Thus as this siege endured, and as Sir Gawaine lay sick\nnear a month; and when he was well recovered and ready within three\ndays to do battle again with Sir Launcelot, right so came tidings unto\nArthur from England that made King Arthur and all his host to remove.\n_Here followeth the xxi. book._\nBOOK XXI.\nCHAPTER I. How Sir Mordred presumed and took on him to be King of\nEngland, and would have married the queen, his father\u2019s wife.\nAs Sir Mordred was ruler of all England, he did do make letters as\nthough that they came from beyond the sea, and the letters specified\nthat King Arthur was slain in battle with Sir Launcelot. Wherefore Sir\nMordred made a parliament, and called the lords together, and there he\nmade them to choose him king; and so was he crowned at Canterbury, and\nheld a feast there fifteen days; and afterward he drew him unto\nWinchester, and there he took the Queen Guenever, and said plainly that\nhe would wed her which was his uncle\u2019s wife and his father\u2019s wife. And\nso he made ready for the feast, and a day prefixed that they should be\nwedded; wherefore Queen Guenever was passing heavy. But she durst not\ndiscover her heart, but spake fair, and agreed to Sir Mordred\u2019s will.\nThen she desired of Sir Mordred for to go to London, to buy all manner\nof things that longed unto the wedding. And because of her fair speech\nSir Mordred trusted her well enough, and gave her leave to go. And so\nwhen she came to London she took the Tower of London, and suddenly in\nall haste possible she stuffed it with all manner of victual, and well\ngarnished it with men, and so kept it.\nThen when Sir Mordred wist and understood how he was beguiled, he was\npassing wroth out of measure. And a short tale for to make, he went and\nlaid a mighty siege about the Tower of London, and made many great\nassaults thereat, and threw many great engines unto them, and shot\ngreat guns. But all might not prevail Sir Mordred, for Queen Guenever\nwould never for fair speech nor for foul, would never trust to come in\nhis hands again.\nThen came the Bishop of Canterbury, the which was a noble clerk and an\nholy man, and thus he said to Sir Mordred: Sir, what will ye do? will\nye first displease God and sithen shame yourself, and all knighthood?\nIs not King Arthur your uncle, no farther but your mother\u2019s brother,\nand on her himself King Arthur begat you upon his own sister, therefore\nhow may you wed your father\u2019s wife? Sir, said the noble clerk, leave\nthis opinion or I shall curse you with book and bell and candle. Do\nthou thy worst, said Sir Mordred, wit thou well I shall defy thee. Sir,\nsaid the Bishop, and wit you well I shall not fear me to do that me\nought to do. Also where ye noise where my lord Arthur is slain, and\nthat is not so, and therefore ye will make a foul work in this land.\nPeace, thou false priest, said Sir Mordred, for an thou chafe me any\nmore I shall make strike off thy head. So the Bishop departed and did\nthe cursing in the most orgulist wise that might be done. And then Sir\nMordred sought the Bishop of Canterbury, for to have slain him. Then\nthe Bishop fled, and took part of his goods with him, and went nigh\nunto Glastonbury; and there he was as priest hermit in a chapel, and\nlived in poverty and in holy prayers, for well he understood that\nmischievous war was at hand.\nThen Sir Mordred sought on Queen Guenever by letters and sonds, and by\nfair means and foul means, for to have her to come out of the Tower of\nLondon; but all this availed not, for she answered him shortly, openly\nand privily, that she had liefer slay herself than to be married with\nhim. Then came word to Sir Mordred that King Arthur had araised the\nsiege for Sir Launcelot, and he was coming homeward with a great host,\nto be avenged upon Sir Mordred; wherefore Sir Mordred made write writs\nto all the barony of this land, and much people drew to him. For then\nwas the common voice among them that with Arthur was none other life\nbut war and strife, and with Sir Mordred was great joy and bliss. Thus\nwas Sir Arthur depraved, and evil said of. And many there were that\nKing Arthur had made up of nought, and given them lands, might not then\nsay him a good word. Lo ye all Englishmen, see ye not what a mischief\nhere was! for he that was the most king and knight of the world, and\nmost loved the fellowship of noble knights, and by him they were all\nupholden, now might not these Englishmen hold them content with him. Lo\nthus was the old custom and usage of this land; and also men say that\nwe of this land have not yet lost nor forgotten that custom and usage.\nAlas, this is a great default of us Englishmen, for there may no thing\nplease us no term. And so fared the people at that time, they were\nbetter pleased with Sir Mordred than they were with King Arthur; and\nmuch people drew unto Sir Mordred, and said they would abide with him\nfor better and for worse. And so Sir Mordred drew with a great host to\nDover, for there he heard say that Sir Arthur would arrive, and so he\nthought to beat his own father from his lands; and the most part of all\nEngland held with Sir Mordred, the people were so new-fangle.\nCHAPTER II. How after that King Arthur had tidings, he returned and\ncame to Dover, where Sir Mordred met him to let his landing; and of the\ndeath of Sir Gawaine.\nAnd so as Sir Mordred was at Dover with his host, there came King\nArthur with a great navy of ships, and galleys, and carracks. And there\nwas Sir Mordred ready awaiting upon his landing, to let his own father\nto land upon the land that he was king over. Then there was launching\nof great boats and small, and full of noble men of arms; and there was\nmuch slaughter of gentle knights, and many a full bold baron was laid\nfull low, on both parties. But King Arthur was so courageous that there\nmight no manner of knights let him to land, and his knights fiercely\nfollowed him; and so they landed maugre Sir Mordred and all his power,\nand put Sir Mordred aback, that he fled and all his people.\nSo when this battle was done, King Arthur let bury his people that were\ndead. And then was noble Sir Gawaine found in a great boat, lying more\nthan half dead. When Sir Arthur wist that Sir Gawaine was laid so low;\nhe went unto him; and there the king made sorrow out of measure, and\ntook Sir Gawaine in his arms, and thrice he there swooned. And then\nwhen he awaked, he said: Alas, Sir Gawaine, my sister\u2019s son, here now\nthou liest; the man in the world that I loved most; and now is my joy\ngone, for now, my nephew Sir Gawaine, I will discover me unto your\nperson: in Sir Launcelot and you I most had my joy, and mine affiance,\nand now have I lost my joy of you both; wherefore all mine earthly joy\nis gone from me. Mine uncle King Arthur, said Sir Gawaine, wit you well\nmy death-day is come, and all is through mine own hastiness and\nwilfulness; for I am smitten upon the old wound the which Sir Launcelot\ngave me, on the which I feel well I must die; and had Sir Launcelot\nbeen with you as he was, this unhappy war had never begun; and of all\nthis am I causer, for Sir Launcelot and his blood, through their\nprowess, held all your cankered enemies in subjection and daunger. And\nnow, said Sir Gawaine, ye shall miss Sir Launcelot. But alas, I would\nnot accord with him, and therefore, said Sir Gawaine, I pray you, fair\nuncle, that I may have paper, pen, and ink, that I may write to Sir\nLauncelot a cedle with mine own hands.\nAnd then when paper and ink was brought, then Gawaine was set up weakly\nby King Arthur, for he was shriven a little to-fore; and then he wrote\nthus, as the French book maketh mention: Unto Sir Launcelot, flower of\nall noble knights that ever I heard of or saw by my days, I, Sir\nGawaine, King Lot\u2019s son of Orkney, sister\u2019s son unto the noble King\nArthur, send thee greeting, and let thee have knowledge that the tenth\nday of May I was smitten upon the old wound that thou gavest me afore\nthe city of Benwick, and through the same wound that thou gavest me I\nam come to my death-day. And I will that all the world wit, that I, Sir\nGawaine, knight of the Table Round, sought my death, and not through\nthy deserving, but it was mine own seeking; wherefore I beseech thee,\nSir Launcelot, to return again unto this realm, and see my tomb, and\npray some prayer more or less for my soul. And this same day that I\nwrote this cedle, I was hurt to the death in the same wound, the which\nI had of thy hand, Sir Launcelot; for of a more nobler man might I not\nbe slain. Also Sir Launcelot, for all the love that ever was betwixt\nus, make no tarrying, but come over the sea in all haste, that thou\nmayst with thy noble knights rescue that noble king that made thee\nknight, that is my lord Arthur; for he is full straitly bestead with a\nfalse traitor, that is my half-brother, Sir Mordred; and he hath let\ncrown him king, and would have wedded my lady Queen Guenever, and so\nhad he done had she not put herself in the Tower of London. And so the\ntenth day of May last past, my lord Arthur and we all landed upon them\nat Dover; and there we put that false traitor, Sir Mordred, to flight,\nand there it misfortuned me to be stricken upon thy stroke. And at the\ndate of this letter was written, but two hours and a half afore my\ndeath, written with mine own hand, and so subscribed with part of my\nheart\u2019s blood. And I require thee, most famous knight of the world,\nthat thou wilt see my tomb. And then Sir Gawaine wept, and King Arthur\nwept; and then they swooned both. And when they awaked both, the king\nmade Sir Gawaine to receive his Saviour. And then Sir Gawaine prayed\nthe king for to send for Sir Launcelot, and to cherish him above all\nother knights.\nAnd so at the hour of noon Sir Gawaine yielded up the spirit; and then\nthe king let inter him in a chapel within Dover Castle; and there yet\nall men may see the skull of him, and the same wound is seen that Sir\nLauncelot gave him in battle. Then was it told the king that Sir\nMordred had pight a new field upon Barham Down. And upon the morn the\nking rode thither to him, and there was a great battle betwixt them,\nand much people was slain on both parties; but at the last Sir Arthur\u2019s\nparty stood best, and Sir Mordred and his party fled unto Canterbury.\nCHAPTER III. How after, Sir Gawaine\u2019s ghost appeared to King Arthur,\nand warned him that he should not fight that day.\nAnd then the king let search all the towns for his knights that were\nslain, and interred them; and salved them with soft salves that so sore\nwere wounded. Then much people drew unto King Arthur. And then they\nsaid that Sir Mordred warred upon King Arthur with wrong. And then King\nArthur drew him with his host down by the seaside, westward toward\nSalisbury; and there was a day assigned betwixt King Arthur and Sir\nMordred, that they should meet upon a down beside Salisbury, and not\nfar from the seaside; and this day was assigned on a Monday after\nTrinity Sunday, whereof King Arthur was passing glad, that he might be\navenged upon Sir Mordred. Then Sir Mordred araised much people about\nLondon, for they of Kent, Southsex, and Surrey, Estsex, and of\nSouthfolk, and of Northfolk, held the most part with Sir Mordred; and\nmany a full noble knight drew unto Sir Mordred and to the king: but\nthey that loved Sir Launcelot drew unto Sir Mordred.\nSo upon Trinity Sunday at night, King Arthur dreamed a wonderful dream,\nand that was this: that him seemed he sat upon a chaflet in a chair,\nand the chair was fast to a wheel, and thereupon sat King Arthur in the\nrichest cloth of gold that might be made; and the king thought there\nwas under him, far from him, an hideous deep black water, and therein\nwere all manner of serpents, and worms, and wild beasts, foul and\nhorrible; and suddenly the king thought the wheel turned up-so-down,\nand he fell among the serpents, and every beast took him by a limb; and\nthen the king cried as he lay in his bed and slept: Help. And then\nknights, squires, and yeomen, awaked the king; and then he was so\namazed that he wist not where he was; and then he fell a-slumbering\nagain, not sleeping nor thoroughly waking. So the king seemed verily\nthat there came Sir Gawaine unto him with a number of fair ladies with\nhim. And when King Arthur saw him, then he said: Welcome, my sister\u2019s\nson; I weened thou hadst been dead, and now I see thee alive, much am I\nbeholding unto Almighty Jesu. O fair nephew and my sister\u2019s son, what\nbe these ladies that hither be come with you? Sir, said Sir Gawaine,\nall these be ladies for whom I have foughten when I was man living, and\nall these are those that I did battle for in righteous quarrel; and God\nhath given them that grace at their great prayer, because I did battle\nfor them, that they should bring me hither unto you: thus much hath God\ngiven me leave, for to warn you of your death; for an ye fight as\nto-morn with Sir Mordred, as ye both have assigned, doubt ye not ye\nmust be slain, and the most part of your people on both parties. And\nfor the great grace and goodness that almighty Jesu hath unto you, and\nfor pity of you, and many more other good men there shall be slain, God\nhath sent me to you of his special grace, to give you warning that in\nno wise ye do battle as to-morn, but that ye take a treaty for a month\nday; and proffer you largely, so as to-morn to be put in a delay. For\nwithin a month shall come Sir Launcelot with all his noble knights, and\nrescue you worshipfully, and slay Sir Mordred, and all that ever will\nhold with him. Then Sir Gawaine and all the ladies vanished.\nAnd anon the king called upon his knights, squires, and yeomen, and\ncharged them wightly to fetch his noble lords and wise bishops unto\nhim. And when they were come, the king told them his avision, what Sir\nGawaine had told him, and warned him that if he fought on the morn he\nshould be slain. Then the king commanded Sir Lucan the Butler, and his\nbrother Sir Bedivere, with two bishops with them, and charged them in\nany wise, an they might, Take a treaty for a month day with Sir\nMordred, and spare not, proffer him lands and goods as much as ye think\nbest. So then they departed, and came to Sir Mordred, where he had a\ngrim host of an hundred thousand men. And there they entreated Sir\nMordred long time; and at the last Sir Mordred was agreed for to have\nCornwall and Kent, by Arthur\u2019s days: after, all England, after the days\nof King Arthur.\nCHAPTER IV. How by misadventure of an adder the battle began, where\nMordred was slain, and Arthur hurt to the death.\nThen were they condescended that King Arthur and Sir Mordred should\nmeet betwixt both their hosts, and everych of them should bring\nfourteen persons; and they came with this word unto Arthur. Then said\nhe: I am glad that this is done: and so he went into the field. And\nwhen Arthur should depart, he warned all his host that an they see any\nsword drawn: Look ye come on fiercely, and slay that traitor, Sir\nMordred, for I in no wise trust him. In like wise Sir Mordred warned\nhis host that: An ye see any sword drawn, look that ye come on\nfiercely, and so slay all that ever before you standeth; for in no wise\nI will not trust for this treaty, for I know well my father will be\navenged on me. And so they met as their appointment was, and so they\nwere agreed and accorded thoroughly; and wine was fetched, and they\ndrank. Right soon came an adder out of a little heath bush, and it\nstung a knight on the foot. And when the knight felt him stung, he\nlooked down and saw the adder, and then he drew his sword to slay the\nadder, and thought of none other harm. And when the host on both\nparties saw that sword drawn, then they blew beams, trumpets, and\nhorns, and shouted grimly. And so both hosts dressed them together. And\nKing Arthur took his horse, and said: Alas this unhappy day! and so\nrode to his party. And Sir Mordred in like wise. And never was there\nseen a more dolefuller battle in no Christian land; for there was but\nrushing and riding, foining and striking, and many a grim word was\nthere spoken either to other, and many a deadly stroke. But ever King\nArthur rode throughout the battle of Sir Mordred many times, and did\nfull nobly as a noble king should, and at all times he fainted never;\nand Sir Mordred that day put him in devoir, and in great peril. And\nthus they fought all the long day, and never stinted till the noble\nknights were laid to the cold earth; and ever they fought still till it\nwas near night, and by that time was there an hundred thousand laid\ndead upon the down. Then was Arthur wood wroth out of measure, when he\nsaw his people so slain from him.\nThen the king looked about him, and then was he ware, of all his host\nand of all his good knights, were left no more alive but two knights;\nthat one was Sir Lucan the Butler, and his brother Sir Bedivere, and\nthey were full sore wounded. Jesu mercy, said the king, where are all\nmy noble knights become? Alas that ever I should see this doleful day,\nfor now, said Arthur, I am come to mine end. But would to God that I\nwist where were that traitor Sir Mordred, that hath caused all this\nmischief. Then was King Arthur ware where Sir Mordred leaned upon his\nsword among a great heap of dead men. Now give me my spear, said Arthur\nunto Sir Lucan, for yonder I have espied the traitor that all this woe\nhath wrought. Sir, let him be, said Sir Lucan, for he is unhappy; and\nif ye pass this unhappy day ye shall be right well revenged upon him.\nGood lord, remember ye of your night\u2019s dream, and what the spirit of\nSir Gawaine told you this night, yet God of his great goodness hath\npreserved you hitherto. Therefore, for God\u2019s sake, my lord, leave off\nby this, for blessed be God ye have won the field, for here we be three\nalive, and with Sir Mordred is none alive; and if ye leave off now this\nwicked day of destiny is past. Tide me death, betide me life, saith the\nking, now I see him yonder alone he shall never escape mine hands, for\nat a better avail shall I never have him. God speed you well, said Sir\nBedivere.\nThen the king gat his spear in both his hands, and ran toward Sir\nMordred, crying: Traitor, now is thy death-day come. And when Sir\nMordred heard Sir Arthur, he ran until him with his sword drawn in his\nhand. And there King Arthur smote Sir Mordred under the shield, with a\nfoin of his spear, throughout the body, more than a fathom. And when\nSir Mordred felt that he had his death wound he thrust himself with the\nmight that he had up to the bur of King Arthur\u2019s spear. And right so he\nsmote his father Arthur, with his sword holden in both his hands, on\nthe side of the head, that the sword pierced the helmet and the\nbrain-pan, and therewithal Sir Mordred fell stark dead to the earth;\nand the noble Arthur fell in a swoon to the earth, and there he swooned\nofttimes. And Sir Lucan the Butler and Sir Bedivere ofttimes heaved him\nup. And so weakly they led him betwixt them both, to a little chapel\nnot far from the seaside. And when the king was there he thought him\nwell eased.\nThen heard they people cry in the field. Now go thou, Sir Lucan, said\nthe king, and do me to wit what betokens that noise in the field. So\nSir Lucan departed, for he was grievously wounded in many places. And\nso as he yede, he saw and hearkened by the moonlight, how that pillers\nand robbers were come into the field, to pill and to rob many a full\nnoble knight of brooches, and beads, of many a good ring, and of many a\nrich jewel; and who that were not dead all out, there they slew them\nfor their harness and their riches. When Sir Lucan understood this\nwork, he came to the king as soon as he might, and told him all what he\nhad heard and seen. Therefore by my rede, said Sir Lucan, it is best\nthat we bring you to some town. I would it were so, said the king.\nCHAPTER V. How King Arthur commanded to cast his sword Excalibur into\nthe water, and how he was delivered to ladies in a barge.\nBut I may not stand, mine head works so. Ah Sir Launcelot, said King\nArthur, this day have I sore missed thee: alas, that ever I was against\nthee, for now have I my death, whereof Sir Gawaine me warned in my\ndream. Then Sir Lucan took up the king the one part, and Sir Bedivere\nthe other part, and in the lifting the king swooned; and Sir Lucan fell\nin a swoon with the lift, that the part of his guts fell out of his\nbody, and therewith the noble knight\u2019s heart brast. And when the king\nawoke, he beheld Sir Lucan, how he lay foaming at the mouth, and part\nof his guts lay at his feet. Alas, said the king, this is to me a full\nheavy sight, to see this noble duke so die for my sake, for he would\nhave holpen me, that had more need of help than I. Alas, he would not\ncomplain him, his heart was so set to help me: now Jesu have mercy upon\nhis soul! Then Sir Bedivere wept for the death of his brother. Leave\nthis mourning and weeping, said the king, for all this will not avail\nme, for wit thou well an I might live myself, the death of Sir Lucan\nwould grieve me evermore; but my time hieth fast, said the king.\nTherefore, said Arthur unto Sir Bedivere, take thou Excalibur, my good\nsword, and go with it to yonder water side, and when thou comest there\nI charge thee throw my sword in that water, and come again and tell me\nwhat thou there seest. My lord, said Bedivere, your commandment shall\nbe done, and lightly bring you word again.\nSo Sir Bedivere departed, and by the way he beheld that noble sword,\nthat the pommel and the haft was all of precious stones; and then he\nsaid to himself: If I throw this rich sword in the water, thereof shall\nnever come good, but harm and loss. And then Sir Bedivere hid Excalibur\nunder a tree. And so, as soon as he might, he came again unto the king,\nand said he had been at the water, and had thrown the sword in the\nwater. What saw thou there? said the king. Sir, he said, I saw nothing\nbut waves and winds. That is untruly said of thee, said the king,\ntherefore go thou lightly again, and do my commandment; as thou art to\nme lief and dear, spare not, but throw it in. Then Sir Bedivere\nreturned again, and took the sword in his hand; and then him thought\nsin and shame to throw away that noble sword, and so eft he hid the\nsword, and returned again, and told to the king that he had been at the\nwater, and done his commandment. What saw thou there? said the king.\nSir, he said, I saw nothing but the waters wap and waves wan. Ah,\ntraitor untrue, said King Arthur, now hast thou betrayed me twice. Who\nwould have weened that, thou that hast been to me so lief and dear? and\nthou art named a noble knight, and would betray me for the richness of\nthe sword. But now go again lightly, for thy long tarrying putteth me\nin great jeopardy of my life, for I have taken cold. And but if thou do\nnow as I bid thee, if ever I may see thee, I shall slay thee with mine\nown hands; for thou wouldst for my rich sword see me dead.\nThen Sir Bedivere departed, and went to the sword, and lightly took it\nup, and went to the water side; and there he bound the girdle about the\nhilts, and then he threw the sword as far into the water as he might;\nand there came an arm and an hand above the water and met it, and\ncaught it, and so shook it thrice and brandished, and then vanished\naway the hand with the sword in the water. So Sir Bedivere came again\nto the king, and told him what he saw. Alas, said the king, help me\nhence, for I dread me I have tarried over long. Then Sir Bedivere took\nthe king upon his back, and so went with him to that water side. And\nwhen they were at the water side, even fast by the bank hoved a little\nbarge with many fair ladies in it, and among them all was a queen, and\nall they had black hoods, and all they wept and shrieked when they saw\nKing Arthur. Now put me into the barge, said the king. And so he did\nsoftly; and there received him three queens with great mourning; and so\nthey set them down, and in one of their laps King Arthur laid his head.\nAnd then that queen said: Ah, dear brother, why have ye tarried so long\nfrom me? alas, this wound on your head hath caught over-much cold. And\nso then they rowed from the land, and Sir Bedivere beheld all those\nladies go from him. Then Sir Bedivere cried: Ah my lord Arthur, what\nshall become of me, now ye go from me and leave me here alone among\nmine enemies? Comfort thyself, said the king, and do as well as thou\nmayst, for in me is no trust for to trust in; for I will into the vale\nof Avilion to heal me of my grievous wound: and if thou hear never more\nof me, pray for my soul. But ever the queens and ladies wept and\nshrieked, that it was pity to hear. And as soon as Sir Bedivere had\nlost the sight of the barge, he wept and wailed, and so took the\nforest; and so he went all that night, and in the morning he was ware\nbetwixt two holts hoar, of a chapel and an hermitage.\nCHAPTER VI. How Sir Bedivere found him on the morrow dead in an\nhermitage, and how he abode there with the hermit.\nThen was Sir Bedivere glad, and thither he went; and when he came into\nthe chapel, he saw where lay an hermit grovelling on all four, there\nfast by a tomb was new graven. When the hermit saw Sir Bedivere he knew\nhim well, for he was but little to-fore Bishop of Canterbury, that Sir\nMordred flemed. Sir, said Bedivere, what man is there interred that ye\npray so fast for? Fair son, said the hermit, I wot not verily, but by\ndeeming. But this night, at midnight, here came a number of ladies, and\nbrought hither a dead corpse, and prayed me to bury him; and here they\noffered an hundred tapers, and they gave me an hundred besants. Alas,\nsaid Sir Bedivere, that was my lord King Arthur, that here lieth buried\nin this chapel. Then Sir Bedivere swooned; and when he awoke he prayed\nthe hermit he might abide with him still there, to live with fasting\nand prayers. For from hence will I never go, said Sir Bedivere, by my\nwill, but all the days of my life here to pray for my lord Arthur. Ye\nare welcome to me, said the hermit, for I know ye better than ye ween\nthat I do. Ye are the bold Bedivere, and the full noble duke, Sir Lucan\nthe Butler, was your brother. Then Sir Bedivere told the hermit all as\nye have heard to-fore. So there bode Sir Bedivere with the hermit that\nwas to-fore Bishop of Canterbury, and there Sir Bedivere put upon him\npoor clothes, and served the hermit full lowly in fasting and in\nprayers.\nThus of Arthur I find never more written in books that be authorised,\nnor more of the very certainty of his death heard I never read, but\nthus was he led away in a ship wherein were three queens; that one was\nKing Arthur\u2019s sister, Queen Morgan le Fay; the other was the Queen of\nNorthgalis; the third was the Queen of the Waste Lands. Also there was\nNimue, the chief lady of the lake, that had wedded Pelleas the good\nknight; and this lady had done much for King Arthur, for she would\nnever suffer Sir Pelleas to be in no place where he should be in danger\nof his life; and so he lived to the uttermost of his days with her in\ngreat rest. More of the death of King Arthur could I never find, but\nthat ladies brought him to his burials; and such one was buried there,\nthat the hermit bare witness that sometime was Bishop of Canterbury,\nbut yet the hermit knew not in certain that he was verily the body of\nKing Arthur: for this tale Sir Bedivere, knight of the Table Round,\nmade it to be written.\nCHAPTER VII. Of the opinion of some men of the death of King Arthur;\nand how Queen Guenever made her a nun in Almesbury.\nYet some men say in many parts of England that King Arthur is not dead,\nbut had by the will of our Lord Jesu into another place; and men say\nthat he shall come again, and he shall win the holy cross. I will not\nsay it shall be so, but rather I will say: here in this world he\nchanged his life. But many men say that there is written upon his tomb\nthis verse: _Hic jacet Arthurus, Rex quondam, Rexque futurus._ Thus\nleave I here Sir Bedivere with the hermit, that dwelled that time in a\nchapel beside Glastonbury, and there was his hermitage. And so they\nlived in their prayers, and fastings, and great abstinence. And when\nQueen Guenever understood that King Arthur was slain, and all the noble\nknights, Sir Mordred and all the remnant, then the queen stole away,\nand five ladies with her, and so she went to Almesbury; and there she\nlet make herself a nun, and ware white clothes and black, and great\npenance she took, as ever did sinful lady in this land, and never\ncreature could make her merry; but lived in fasting, prayers, and\nalms-deeds, that all manner of people marvelled how virtuously she was\nchanged. Now leave we Queen Guenever in Almesbury, a nun in white\nclothes and black, and there she was Abbess and ruler as reason would;\nand turn we from her, and speak we of Sir Launcelot du Lake.\nCHAPTER VIII. How when Sir Lancelot heard of the death of King Arthur,\nand of Sir Gawaine, and other matters, he came into England.\nAnd when he heard in his country that Sir Mordred was crowned king in\nEngland, and made war against King Arthur, his own father, and would\nlet him to land in his own land; also it was told Sir Launcelot how\nthat Sir Mordred had laid siege about the Tower of London, because the\nqueen would not wed him; then was Sir Launcelot wroth out of measure,\nand said to his kinsmen: Alas, that double traitor Sir Mordred, now me\nrepenteth that ever he escaped my hands, for much shame hath he done\nunto my lord Arthur; for all I feel by the doleful letter that my lord\nSir Gawaine sent me, on whose soul Jesu have mercy that my lord Arthur\nis full hard bestead. Alas, said Sir Launcelot, that ever I should live\nto hear that most noble king that made me knight thus to be overset\nwith his subject in his own realm. And this doleful letter that my\nlord, Sir Gawaine, hath sent me afore his death, praying me to see his\ntomb, wit you well his doleful words shall never go from mine heart,\nfor he was a full noble knight as ever was born; and in an unhappy hour\nwas I born that ever I should have that unhap to slay first Sir\nGawaine, Sir Gaheris the good knight, and mine own friend Sir Gareth,\nthat full noble knight. Alas, I may say I am unhappy, said Sir\nLauncelot, that ever I should do thus unhappily, and, alas, yet might I\nnever have hap to slay that traitor, Sir Mordred.\nLeave your complaints, said Sir Bors, and first revenge you of the\ndeath of Sir Gawaine; and it will be well done that ye see Sir\nGawaine\u2019s tomb, and secondly that ye revenge my lord Arthur, and my\nlady, Queen Guenever. I thank you, said Sir Launcelot, for ever ye will\nmy worship.\nThen they made them ready in all the haste that might be, with ships\nand galleys, with Sir Launcelot and his host to pass into England. And\nso he passed over the sea till he came to Dover, and there he landed\nwith seven kings, and the number was hideous to behold. Then Sir\nLauncelot spered of men of Dover where was King Arthur become. Then the\npeople told him how that he was slain, and Sir Mordred and an hundred\nthousand died on a day; and how Sir Mordred gave King Arthur there the\nfirst battle at his landing, and there was good Sir Gawaine slain; and\non the morn Sir Mordred fought with the king upon Barham Down, and\nthere the king put Sir Mordred to the worse. Alas, said Sir Launcelot,\nthis is the heaviest tidings that ever came to me. Now, fair sirs, said\nSir Launcelot, shew me the tomb of Sir Gawaine. And then certain people\nof the town brought him into the castle of Dover, and shewed him the\ntomb. Then Sir Launcelot kneeled down and wept, and prayed heartily for\nhis soul. And that night he made a dole, and all they that would come\nhad as much flesh, fish, wine and ale, and every man and woman had\ntwelve pence, come who would. Thus with his own hand dealt he this\nmoney, in a mourning gown; and ever he wept, and prayed them to pray\nfor the soul of Sir Gawaine. And on the morn all the priests and clerks\nthat might be gotten in the country were there, and sang mass of\nRequiem; and there offered first Sir Launcelot, and he offered an\nhundred pound; and then the seven kings offered forty pound apiece; and\nalso there was a thousand knights, and each of them offered a pound;\nand the offering dured from morn till night, and Sir Launcelot lay two\nnights on his tomb in prayers and weeping.\nThen on the third day Sir Launcelot called the kings, dukes, earls,\nbarons, and knights, and said thus: My fair lords, I thank you all of\nyour coming into this country with me, but we came too late, and that\nshall repent me while I live, but against death may no man rebel. But\nsithen it is so, said Sir Launcelot, I will myself ride and seek my\nlady, Queen Guenever, for as I hear say she hath had great pain and\nmuch disease; and I heard say that she is fled into the west. Therefore\nye all shall abide me here, and but if I come again within fifteen\ndays, then take your ships and your fellowship, and depart into your\ncountry, for I will do as I say to you.\nCHAPTER IX. How Sir Launcelot departed to seek the Queen Guenever, and\nhow he found her at Almesbury.\nThen came Sir Bors de Ganis, and said: My lord Sir Launcelot, what\nthink ye for to do, now to ride in this realm? wit ye well ye shall\nfind few friends. Be as be may, said Sir Launcelot, keep you still\nhere, for I will forth on my journey, and no man nor child shall go\nwith me. So it was no boot to strive, but he departed and rode\nwesterly, and there he sought a seven or eight days; and at the last he\ncame to a nunnery, and then was Queen Guenever ware of Sir Launcelot as\nhe walked in the cloister. And when she saw him there she swooned\nthrice, that all the ladies and gentlewomen had work enough to hold the\nqueen up. So when she might speak, she called ladies and gentlewomen to\nher, and said: Ye marvel, fair ladies, why I make this fare. Truly, she\nsaid, it is for the sight of yonder knight that yonder standeth;\nwherefore I pray you all call him to me.\nWhen Sir Launcelot was brought to her, then she said to all the ladies:\nThrough this man and me hath all this war been wrought, and the death\nof the most noblest knights of the world; for through our love that we\nhave loved together is my most noble lord slain. Therefore, Sir\nLauncelot, wit thou well I am set in such a plight to get my soul-heal;\nand yet I trust through God\u2019s grace that after my death to have a sight\nof the blessed face of Christ, and at domesday to sit on his right\nside, for as sinful as ever I was are saints in heaven. Therefore, Sir\nLauncelot, I require thee and beseech thee heartily, for all the love\nthat ever was betwixt us, that thou never see me more in the visage;\nand I command thee, on God\u2019s behalf, that thou forsake my company, and\nto thy kingdom thou turn again, and keep well thy realm from war and\nwrack; for as well as I have loved thee, mine heart will not serve me\nto see thee, for through thee and me is the flower of kings and knights\ndestroyed; therefore, Sir Launcelot, go to thy realm, and there take\nthee a wife, and live with her with joy and bliss; and I pray thee\nheartily, pray for me to our Lord that I may amend my misliving. Now,\nsweet madam, said Sir Launcelot, would ye that I should now return\nagain unto my country, and there to wed a lady? Nay, madam, wit you\nwell that shall I never do, for I shall never be so false to you of\nthat I have promised; but the same destiny that ye have taken you to, I\nwill take me unto, for to please Jesu, and ever for you I cast me\nspecially to pray. If thou wilt do so, said the queen, hold thy\npromise, but I may never believe but that thou wilt turn to the world\nagain. Well, madam, said he, ye say as pleaseth you, yet wist you me\nnever false of my promise, and God defend but I should forsake the\nworld as ye have done. For in the quest of the Sangreal I had forsaken\nthe vanities of the world had not your lord been. And if I had done so\nat that time, with my heart, will, and thought, I had passed all the\nknights that were in the Sangreal except Sir Galahad, my son. And\ntherefore, lady, sithen ye have taken you to perfection, I must needs\ntake me to perfection, of right. For I take record of God, in you I\nhave had mine earthly joy; and if I had found you now so disposed, I\nhad cast me to have had you into mine own realm.\nCHAPTER X. How Sir Launcelot came to the hermitage where the Archbishop\nof Canterbury was, and how he took the habit on him.\nBut sithen I find you thus disposed, I ensure you faithfully, I will\never take me to penance, and pray while my life lasteth, if I may find\nany hermit, either gray or white, that will receive me. Wherefore,\nmadam, I pray you kiss me and never no more. Nay, said the queen, that\nshall I never do, but abstain you from such works: and they departed.\nBut there was never so hard an hearted man but he would have wept to\nsee the dolour that they made; for there was lamentation as they had\nbeen stung with spears; and many times they swooned, and the ladies\nbare the queen to her chamber.\nAnd Sir Launcelot awoke, and went and took his horse, and rode all that\nday and all night in a forest, weeping. And at the last he was ware of\nan hermitage and a chapel stood betwixt two cliffs; and then he heard a\nlittle bell ring to mass, and thither he rode and alighted, and tied\nhis horse to the gate, and heard mass. And he that sang mass was the\nBishop of Canterbury. Both the Bishop and Sir Bedivere knew Sir\nLauncelot, and they spake together after mass. But when Sir Bedivere\nhad told his tale all whole, Sir Launcelot\u2019s heart almost brast for\nsorrow, and Sir Launcelot threw his arms abroad, and said: Alas, who\nmay trust this world. And then he kneeled down on his knee, and prayed\nthe Bishop to shrive him and assoil him. And then he besought the\nBishop that he might be his brother. Then the Bishop said: I will\ngladly; and there he put an habit upon Sir Launcelot, and there he\nserved God day and night with prayers and fastings.\nThus the great host abode at Dover. And then Sir Lionel took fifteen\nlords with him, and rode to London to seek Sir Launcelot; and there Sir\nLionel was slain and many of his lords. Then Sir Bors de Ganis made the\ngreat host for to go home again; and Sir Bors, Sir Ector de Maris, Sir\nBlamore, Sir Bleoberis, with more other of Sir Launcelot\u2019s kin, took on\nthem to ride all England overthwart and endlong, to seek Sir Launcelot.\nSo Sir Bors by fortune rode so long till he came to the same chapel\nwhere Sir Launcelot was; and so Sir Bors heard a little bell knell,\nthat rang to mass; and there he alighted and heard mass. And when mass\nwas done, the Bishop Sir Launcelot, and Sir Bedivere, came to Sir Bors.\nAnd when Sir Bors saw Sir Launcelot in that manner clothing, then he\nprayed the Bishop that he might be in the same suit. And so there was\nan habit put upon him, and there he lived in prayers and fasting. And\nwithin half a year, there was come Sir Galihud, Sir Galihodin, Sir\nBlamore, Sir Bleoberis, Sir Villiars, Sir Clarras, and Sir Gahalantine.\nSo all these seven noble knights there abode still. And when they saw\nSir Launcelot had taken him to such perfection, they had no lust to\ndepart, but took such an habit as he had.\nThus they endured in great penance six year; and then Sir Launcelot\ntook the habit of priesthood of the Bishop, and a twelvemonth he sang\nmass. And there was none of these other knights but they read in books,\nand holp for to sing mass, and rang bells, and did bodily all manner of\nservice. And so their horses went where they would, for they took no\nregard of no worldly riches. For when they saw Sir Launcelot endure\nsuch penance, in prayers, and fastings, they took no force what pain\nthey endured, for to see the noblest knight of the world take such\nabstinence that he waxed full lean. And thus upon a night, there came a\nvision to Sir Launcelot, and charged him, in remission of his sins, to\nhaste him unto Almesbury: And by then thou come there, thou shalt find\nQueen Guenever dead. And therefore take thy fellows with thee, and\npurvey them of an horse bier, and fetch thou the corpse of her, and\nbury her by her husband, the noble King Arthur. So this avision came to\nSir Launcelot thrice in one night.\nCHAPTER XI. How Sir Launcelot went with his seven fellows to Almesbury,\nand found there Queen Guenever dead, whom they brought to Glastonbury.\nThen Sir Launcelot rose up or day, and told the hermit. It were well\ndone, said the hermit, that ye made you ready, and that you disobey not\nthe avision. Then Sir Launcelot took his eight fellows with him, and on\nfoot they yede from Glastonbury to Almesbury, the which is little more\nthan thirty mile. And thither they came within two days, for they were\nweak and feeble to go. And when Sir Launcelot was come to Almesbury\nwithin the nunnery, Queen Guenever died but half an hour afore. And the\nladies told Sir Launcelot that Queen Guenever told them all or she\npassed, that Sir Launcelot had been priest near a twelvemonth, And\nhither he cometh as fast as he may to fetch my corpse; and beside my\nlord, King Arthur, he shall bury me. Wherefore the queen said in\nhearing of them all: I beseech Almighty God that I may never have power\nto see Sir Launcelot with my worldly eyen; and thus, said all the\nladies, was ever her prayer these two days, till she was dead. Then Sir\nLauncelot saw her visage, but he wept not greatly, but sighed. And so\nhe did all the observance of the service himself, both the dirige, and\non the morn he sang mass. And there was ordained an horse bier; and so\nwith an hundred torches ever brenning about the corpse of the queen,\nand ever Sir Launcelot with his eight fellows went about the horse\nbier, singing and reading many an holy orison, and frankincense upon\nthe corpse incensed. Thus Sir Launcelot and his eight fellows went on\nfoot from Almesbury unto Glastonbury.\nAnd when they were come to the chapel and the hermitage, there she had\na dirige, with great devotion. And on the morn the hermit that sometime\nwas Bishop of Canterbury sang the mass of Requiem with great devotion.\nAnd Sir Launcelot was the first that offered, and then also his eight\nfellows. And then she was wrapped in cered cloth of Raines, from the\ntop to the toe, in thirtyfold, and after she was put in a web of lead,\nand then in a coffin of marble. And when she was put in the earth Sir\nLauncelot swooned, and lay long still, while the hermit came and awaked\nhim, and said: Ye be to blame, for ye displease God with such manner of\nsorrow-making. Truly, said Sir Launcelot, I trust I do not displease\nGod, for He knoweth mine intent. For my sorrow was not, nor is not for\nany rejoicing of sin, but my sorrow may never have end. For when I\nremember of her beauty, and of her noblesse, that was both with her\nking and with her, so when I saw his corpse and her corpse so lie\ntogether, truly mine heart would not serve to sustain my careful body.\nAlso when I remember me how by my default, mine orgule and my pride,\nthat they were both laid full low, that were peerless that ever was\nliving of Christian people, wit you well, said Sir Launcelot, this\nremembered, of their kindness and mine unkindness, sank so to mine\nheart, that I might not sustain myself. So the French book maketh\nmention.\nCHAPTER XII. How Sir Launcelot began to sicken, and after died, whose\nbody was borne to Joyous Gard for to be buried.\nThen Sir Launcelot never after ate but little meat, ne drank, till he\nwas dead. For then he sickened more and more, and dried, and dwined\naway. For the Bishop nor none of his fellows might not make him to eat,\nand little he drank, that he was waxen by a cubit shorter than he was,\nthat the people could not know him. For evermore, day and night, he\nprayed, but sometime he slumbered a broken sleep; ever he was lying\ngrovelling on the tomb of King Arthur and Queen Guenever. And there was\nno comfort that the Bishop, nor Sir Bors, nor none of his fellows,\ncould make him, it availed not. So within six weeks after, Sir\nLauncelot fell sick, and lay in his bed; and then he sent for the\nBishop that there was hermit, and all his true fellows. Then Sir\nLauncelot said with dreary steven: Sir Bishop, I pray you give to me\nall my rites that longeth to a Christian man. It shall not need you,\nsaid the hermit and all his fellows, it is but heaviness of your blood,\nye shall be well mended by the grace of God to-morn. My fair lords,\nsaid Sir Launcelot, wit you well my careful body will into the earth, I\nhave warning more than now I will say; therefore give me my rites. So\nwhen he was houseled and anealed, and had all that a Christian man\nought to have, he prayed the Bishop that his fellows might bear his\nbody to Joyous Gard. Some men say it was Alnwick, and some men say it\nwas Bamborough. Howbeit, said Sir Launcelot, me repenteth sore, but I\nmade mine avow sometime, that in Joyous Gard I would be buried. And\nbecause of breaking of mine avow, I pray you all, lead me thither. Then\nthere was weeping and wringing of hands among his fellows.\nSo at a season of the night they all went to their beds, for they all\nlay in one chamber. And so after midnight, against day, the Bishop\n[that] then was hermit, as he lay in his bed asleep, he fell upon a\ngreat laughter. And therewith all the fellowship awoke, and came to the\nBishop, and asked him what he ailed. Ah Jesu mercy, said the Bishop,\nwhy did ye awake me? I was never in all my life so merry and so well at\nease. Wherefore? said Sir Bors. Truly said the Bishop, here was Sir\nLauncelot with me with mo angels than ever I saw men in one day. And I\nsaw the angels heave up Sir Launcelot unto heaven, and the gates of\nheaven opened against him. It is but dretching of swevens, said Sir\nBors, for I doubt not Sir Launcelot aileth nothing but good. It may\nwell be, said the Bishop; go ye to his bed, and then shall ye prove the\nsooth. So when Sir Bors and his fellows came to his bed they found him\nstark dead, and he lay as he had smiled, and the sweetest savour about\nhim that ever they felt.\nThen was there weeping and wringing of hands, and the greatest dole\nthey made that ever made men. And on the morn the Bishop did his mass\nof Requiem, and after, the Bishop and all the nine knights put Sir\nLauncelot in the same horse bier that Queen Guenever was laid in\nto-fore that she was buried. And so the Bishop and they all together\nwent with the body of Sir Launcelot daily, till they came to Joyous\nGard; and ever they had an hundred torches brenning about him. And so\nwithin fifteen days they came to Joyous Gard. And there they laid his\ncorpse in the body of the quire, and sang and read many psalters and\nprayers over him and about him.\nAnd ever his visage was laid open and naked, that all folks might\nbehold him. For such was the custom in those days, that all men of\nworship should so lie with open visage till that they were buried. And\nright thus as they were at their service, there came Sir Ector de\nMaris, that had seven years sought all England, Scotland, and Wales,\nseeking his brother, Sir Launcelot.\nCHAPTER XIII. How Sir Ector found Sir Launcelot his brother dead, and\nhow Constantine reigned next after Arthur; and of the end of this book.\nAnd when Sir Ector heard such noise and light in the quire of Joyous\nGard, he alighted and put his horse from him, and came into the quire,\nand there he saw men sing and weep. And all they knew Sir Ector, but he\nknew not them. Then went Sir Bors unto Sir Ector, and told him how\nthere lay his brother, Sir Launcelot, dead; and then Sir Ector threw\nhis shield, sword, and helm from him. And when he beheld Sir\nLauncelot\u2019s visage, he fell down in a swoon. And when he waked it were\nhard any tongue to tell the doleful complaints that he made for his\nbrother. Ah Launcelot, he said, thou were head of all Christian\nknights, and now I dare say, said Sir Ector, thou Sir Launcelot, there\nthou liest, that thou were never matched of earthly knight\u2019s hand. And\nthou were the courteoust knight that ever bare shield. And thou were\nthe truest friend to thy lover that ever bestrad horse. And thou were\nthe truest lover of a sinful man that ever loved woman. And thou were\nthe kindest man that ever struck with sword. And thou were the\ngoodliest person that ever came among press of knights. And thou was\nthe meekest man and the gentlest that ever ate in hall among ladies.\nAnd thou were the sternest knight to thy mortal foe that ever put spear\nin the rest. Then there was weeping and dolour out of measure.\nThus they kept Sir Launcelot\u2019s corpse aloft fifteen days, and then they\nburied it with great devotion. And then at leisure they went all with\nthe Bishop of Canterbury to his hermitage, and there they were together\nmore than a month. Then Sir Constantine, that was Sir Cador\u2019s son of\nCornwall, was chosen king of England. And he was a full noble knight,\nand worshipfully he ruled this realm. And then this King Constantine\nsent for the Bishop of Canterbury, for he heard say where he was. And\nso he was restored unto his Bishopric, and left that hermitage. And Sir\nBedivere was there ever still hermit to his life\u2019s end. Then Sir Bors\nde Ganis, Sir Ector de Maris, Sir Gahalantine, Sir Galihud, Sir\nGalihodin, Sir Blamore, Sir Bleoberis, Sir Villiars le Valiant, Sir\nClarrus of Clermont, all these knights drew them to their countries.\nHowbeit King Constantine would have had them with him, but they would\nnot abide in this realm. And there they all lived in their countries as\nholy men. And some English books make mention that they went never out\nof England after the death of Sir Launcelot, but that was but favour of\nmakers. For the French book maketh mention, and is authorised, that Sir\nBors, Sir Ector, Sir Blamore, and Sir Bleoberis, went into the Holy\nLand thereas Jesu Christ was quick and dead, and anon as they had\nstablished their lands. For the book saith, so Sir Launcelot commanded\nthem for to do, or ever he passed out of this world. And these four\nknights did many battles upon the miscreants or Turks. And there they\ndied upon a Good Friday for God\u2019s sake.\n_Here is the end of the book of King Arthur, and of his noble knights\nof the Round Table, that when they were whole together there was ever\nan hundred and forty. And here is the end of the death of Arthur. I\npray you all, gentlemen and gentlewomen that readeth this book of\nArthur and his knights, from the beginning to the ending, pray for me\nwhile I am alive, that God send me good deliverance, and when I am\ndead, I pray you all pray for my soul. For this book was ended the\nninth year of the reign of King Edward the Fourth, by Sir Thomas\nMaleore, knight, as Jesu help him for his great might, as he is the\nservant of Jesu both day and night._\n_Thus endeth this noble and joyous book entitled Le Morte Darthur.\nNotwithstanding it treateth of the birth, life, and acts of the said\nKing Arthur, of his noble knights of the Round Table, their marvellous\nenquests and adventures, the achieving of the Sangreal, and in the end\nthe dolorous death and departing out of this world of them all. Which\nbook was reduced into English by Sir Thomas Malory, knight, as afore is\nsaid, and by me divided into twenty-one books, chaptered and emprinted,\nand finished in the abbey, Westminster, the last day of July the year\nof our Lord MCCCCLXXXV._\n_Caxton me fieri fecit._\nGLOSSARY\nAbashed, abased, lowered,\nAbate, depress, calm,\nAbought, paid for,\nAbraid, started,\nAccompted, counted,\nAccorded, agreed,\nAccordment, agreement,\nAcquit, repay,\nActually, actively,\nAdoubted, afraid,\nAdvision, vision,\nAfeard, afraid,\nAfterdeal, disadvantage,\nAgainsay, retract,\nAknown, known,\nAligement, alleviation,\nAllegeance, alleviation,\nAllow, approve,\nAlmeries, chests,\nAlther, gen. pl., of all,\nAmounted, mounted,\nAnealed, anointed,\nAnguishly, in pain,\nAnon, at once,\nApair, weaken,\nApparelled, fitted up,\nAppeach, impeach,\nAppealed, challenged, accused,\nAppertices, displays,\nAraged, enraged, ; confused,\nAraised, raised,\nArase, obliterate,\nAreared, reared,\nArmyvestal, martial,\nArray, plight, state of affairs,\nArrayed, situated,\nArson, saddle-bow,\nAskance, casually,\nAssoiled, absolved,\nAssotted, infatuated,\nAssummon, summon,\nAstonied, amazed, stunned,\nAt, of, by,\nAt-after, after,\nAttaint, overcome,\nAumbries, chests,\nAvail (at), at an advantage,\nAvaled, lowered,\nAvaunt, boast,\nAventred, couched,\nAvised, be advised, take thought,\nAvision, vision,\nAvoid, quit,\nAvoided, got clear off,\nAvow, vow,\nAwait of (in), in watch for,\nAwayward, away,\nAwke, sideways,\nBachelors, probationers for knighthood\nBain, bath,\nBarbican, gate-tower,\nBarget, little ship,\nBattle, division of an army,\nBawdy, dirty,\nBeams, trumpets,\nBe-closed, enclosed,\nBecome, pp., befallen, gone to,\nBedashed, splashed,\nBehests, promises,\nBehight, promised,\nBeholden (beholding) to, obliged to,\nBehote, promised,\nBenome, deprived, taken away,\nBesants, gold coins,\nBeseek, beseech,\nBeseen, appointed, arrayed,\nBeskift, shove off,\nBested, beset,\nBetaken, entrusted,\nBetaught, entrusted, recommended,\nBetid, happened,\nBetook, committed, entrusted,\nBevered, quivered,\nBoard, sb., deck,\nBobaunce, boasting, pride,\nBoishe, bush, branch of a tree,\nBoistous, rough,\nBole, trunk of a tree,\nBoot, remedy,\nBorrow out, redeem,\nBorrows, pledges,\nBote, remedy,\nBound, ready,\nBourded, jested,\nBourder, jester,\nBraced, embraced,\nBrachet, little hound,\nBraide, quick movement,\nBrast, burst, break,\nBreaths, breathing holes,\nBrief, shorten,\nBrim, fierce, furious,\nBrised, broke,\nBroached, pierced,\nBroaches, spits,\nBur, hand-guard of a spear,\nBurble, bubble,\nBurbling, bubbling,\nBurgenetts, buds, blossoms,\nBushment, ambush,\nBy and by, immediately,\nBywaryed, expended, bestowed,\nCanel bone, collar bone,\nCankered, inveterate,\nCantel, slice, strip,\nCareful, sorrowful, full of troubles,\nCast (of bread), loaves baked at the same time,\nCast, ref: v., propose,\nCedle, schedule, note,\nCere, wax over, embalm,; cerel,\nCertes, certainly,\nChafe, heat, decompose,; chafed, heated,\nChaflet, platform, scaffold,\nChampaign, open country,\nChariot (Fr charette), cart,\nCheer, countenance, entertainment,\nChierte, dearness,\nChrism, anointing oil,\nClatter, talk confusedly,\nCleight, clutched,\nCleped, called,\nClipping, embracing,\nCog, small boat,\nCognisance, badge, mark of distinction,\nCoif, head-piece,\nComfort, strengthen, help,\nCominal, common,\nComplished, complete,\nCon, know, be able, ; con thanlt, be grateful,\nConserve, preserve,\nConversant, abiding in,\nCording, agreement,\nCoronal, circlet,\nCost, side,\nCosted, kept up with,\nCouched, lay,\nCourage, encourage,\nCourtelage, courtyard,\nCovert, sheltered,\nCovetise, covetousness,\nCovin, deceit,\nCream, oil,\nCredence, faith,\nCroup, crupper,\nCurteist, most courteous,\nDaffish, foolish,\nDanger (in), under obligation to, in the power of,\nDawed, v tr., revived, intr. dawned,\nDeadly, mortal, human,\nDeal, part, portion,\nDebate, quarrel, strife,\nDebonair, courteous,\nDeceivable, deceitful,\nDefaded, faded,\nDefault, fault,\nDefend, forbid,; defended,; forbidden,\nDefoiled, trodden down, fouled, deflowered,\nDegree (win the), rank, superiority,\nDelibered, determined,\nDeliverly, adroitly,\nDeparted, divided,\nDepartition, departure,\nDere, harm,\nDescrive, describe,\nDespoiled, stripped,\nDetrenched, cut to pieces,\nDevised, looked carefully at,\nDevoir, duty, service,\nDid off, doffed,\nDight, prepared,\nDindled, trembled,\nDisadventure, misfortune,\nDiscover, reveal,\nDisherited, disinherited,\nDisparpled, scattered,\nDispenses, expenses,\nDisperplyd, scattered,\nDispoiled, stripped,\nDistained, sullied, dishonoured,\nDisworship, shame,\nDole, gift of alms,\nDole, sorrow,\nDomineth, dominates, rules,\nDon, gift,\nDoted, foolish,\nDoubted, redoubtable,\nDraughts, privities, secret interviews, recesses,\nDrenched, drowned,\nDress, make ready,\nDressed up, raised,\nDretched, troubled in sleep,\nDretching, being troubled in sleep,\nDromounds, war vessels,\nDure, endure, last,; dured,; during,\nDuresse, bondage, hardship,\nDwined, dwindled,\nEased, entertained,\nEft, after, again,\nEftures, passages,\nEmbattled, ranged for battle,\nEmbushed, concealed in the woods,\nEme, uncle,\nEmpoison, poison,\nEmprised, undertook,\nEnbraid,\nEnchafe, heat,; enchafed, heated,\nEnchieve, achieve,\nEndlong, alongside of,\nEnewed, painted,\nEnforce, constrain,\nEngine, device,\nEnow, enough,\nEnquest, enterprise,\nEnsured, assured,\nEntermete, intermeddle,\nErrant, wandering,\nEstates, ranks,\nEven hand, at an equality,\nEvenlong, along,\nEverych, each, every one,\nFaiter, vagabond,\nFare, sb., ado, commotion,\nFaren, pp., treated,\nFaute, lack,; fauted, lacked,\nFealty, oath of fidelity,\nFear, frighten,\nFeute, trace, track,\nFeuter, set in rest, couch,\nFeutred, set in socket,\nFiaunce, affiance, promise,\nFlang, flung,; rushed,\nFlatling, prostrate,\nFleet, float,\nFlemed, put to flight,\nFlittered, fluttered,\nFoiled, defeated, shamed,\nFoined, thrust,\nFoining, thrusting,\nFoins, thrusts,\nFoot-hot, hastily,\nFor-bled, spent with bleeding,\nForce (no), no concern,\nFordeal, advantage,\nFordo, destroy,; fordid,\nForecast, preconcerted plot,\nFor-fared, worsted,\nForfend, forbid,\nForfoughten, weary with fighting,\nForhewn, hewn to pieces,\nForjousted, tired with jousting,\nForthinketh, repents,\nFortuned, happened,\nForward, vanguard,\nForwowmded, sorely wounded,\nFree, noble,\nFreshed,\nFroward, away from,\nGad, wedge or spike of iron,\nGainest, readiest,\nGar, cause,\nGart, compelled,\nGentily, like a gentleman,\nGerfalcon, a fine hawk,\nGermane, closely allied,\nGest, deed, story,\nGisarm, halberd, battle-axe,\nGlaive, sword,\nGlasting, barking,\nGlatisant, barking, yelping,\nGobbets, lumps,\nGraithed, made ready,\nGree, degree, superiority,\nGreed, pp., pleased, content,\nGrescs, steps,\nGrimly, ugly,\nGrovelling, on his face,\nGuerdonless, without reward,\nGuise, fashion,\nHabergeon, hauberk with leggings attached,\nHair, a hair-shirt,\nHale and how, a sailor's cry,\nHalp, helped,\nHalsed, embraced,\nHalsing, embracing,\nHandfast, betrothed,\nHandsel, earnest-money,\nHangers, testicles,\nHarbingers, messengers sent to prepare lodgings,\nHarness, armour,\nHart of greese, fat deer,\nHauberk, coat of mail,\nHaut, high, noble,\nHauteyn, haughty,\nHeavy, sad,\nHete, command,\nHide, skin,\nHied, hurried,\nHigh (on), aloud,\nHigher hand, the uppermost,\nHight, called,\nHilled, covered, concealed,\nHolden, held,\nHolp, helped,\nHolts, woods,\nHough-bone, back part of kneejoint,\nHouselled, to be given the Eucharist,\nHoved, hovered, waited about,\nHurled, dashed, staggered,; hurling,\nHurtle, dash,\nIncontinent, forthwith,\nInd, dark blue,\nInfellowship, join in fellowship,\nIn like, alike,\nIntermit, interpose,\nJaper, jester,\nJapes, jests,\nJesseraunt, a short cuirass,\nKeep, sb., care,\nKeep, s., care, reck,\nKemps, champions,\nKind, nature,\nKindly, natural,\nKnights parters, marshals,\nKnow, acknowledge,\nKnowledging, acknowledgment, confession,\nLain, conceal,\nLangering, sauntering,\nLapped, took in her lap,\nLarge, generous,\nLargeness, liberality,\nLaton, latten, brass,\nLaund, waste plain,\nLayne, conceal,\nLazar-cot, leper-house,\nLearn, teach,\nLears, cheeks,\nLeaved, leafy,\nLecher, fornicator,\nLeech, physician,\nLeman, lover,\nLet, caused to,\nLet, hinder,\nLewdest, most ignorant,\nLicours lecherous,\nLief, dear,\nLiefer, more gladly,\nLieve, believe,\nLimb-meal, limb from limb,\nList, desire, pleasure,\nLithe, joint,\nLonging unto, belonging to,\nLong on (upon), because of,\nLoos, praise,\nLotless, without a share,\nLoveday, day for. settling disputes,\nLoving, praising,\nLunes, leashes, strings,\nLusk, lubber,\nLusts, inclinations,\nMaims, wounds,\nMakeless, matchless,\nMakers, authors, poets,\nMas,ease, discomfort,\nMal engine, evil design,\nMal-fortune, ill-luck, mishap,\nMarches, borders,\nMass-penny, offering at mass for the dead,\nMatche old, machicolated, with holes for defence,\nMaugre, sb., despite,\nMeasle, disease,\nMedled, mingled,\nMedley, melee, general encounter,\nMeiny, retinue,\nMickle, much,\nMinever, ermine,\nMischieved, hurt,\nMischievous, painful,\nMiscorr fort, discomfort,\nMiscreature, unbeliever,\nMissay, revile,; missaid,\nMo, more,\nMore and less, rich and poor,\nMotes, notes on a horn,\nMount~ lance, amount of, extent,\nMuch, great,\nNaked, unarmed,\nNamely, especially,\nNe, nor,\nNear-hand, nearly,; near,\nNeedly, needs, on your own compulsion,\nNesh, soft, tender,\nNigh-hand, nearly,\nNill, will not,\nNilt, will not,\nNis, ne is, is not,\nNist, ne wist, knew not,\nNoblesse, nobleness,\nNobley, nobility, splendour,\nNoised, reported,\nNold, would not,\nNoseling, on his nose,\nNot for then, nevertheless,\nNotoyrly, notoriously,\nNoyous, hurtful,\nObeissance, obedience,\nOr, before,\nOrgule, haughtiness,\nOrgulist, haughtiest,\nOrgulite, pride, arrogance,\nOrgulous, proud,\nOther, or,\nOuches, jewels,\nOught, owned,\nOutcept, except,\nOuther, or,\nOut-taken, except,\nOver-evening, last night,\nOverget, overtake,\nOverhylled, covered,\nOver-led, domineered over,\nOverlong, the length of,\nOverslip, pass,\nOverthwart, adj., cross,\nOverthwart, sb., mischance,\nOverthwart and endlong, by the breadth and length,\nPainture, painting,\nPaitrelles, breastplate of a horse,\nPaltocks, short coats,\nParage, descent,\nPareil, like,\nPassing, surpassingly,\nPaynim, pagan,\nPensel, pennon,\nPerclos, partition,\nPerdy, par Dieu,\nPerigot, falcon,\nPerish, destroy,\nPeron, tombstone,\nPight, pitched,\nPike, steal away,\nPiked, stole,\nPillers, plunderers,\nPilling, plundering,\nPleasaunce, pleasure,\nPlenour, complete,\nPlump, sb., cluster,\nPointling, aiming,\nPont, bridge,\nPort, gate,\nPosseded, possessed,\nPotestate, governor,\nPrecessours, predecessors,\nPress, throng,\nPretendeth, belongs to,\nPricker, hard rider,\nPricking, spurring,\nPrime, A.M.,\nPrise, capture,\nPuissance, power,\nPurfle, trimming,\nPurfled, embroidered,\nPurvey, provide,\nQuarrels, arrowheads,\nQuesting, barking,\nQuick, alive,\nQuit, repaid,; acquitted, behaved,\nRaced (rased), tore,\nRack (of bulls), herd,\nRaines, a town in Brittany famous for its cloth,\nRamping, raging,\nRange, rank, station,\nRansacked, searched,\nRashed, fell headlong,\nRashing, rushing,\nRasing, rushing,\nRasure,\nRaundon, impetuosity,\nRear, raise,\nRechate, note of recall,\nRecomforted, comforted, cheered,\nRecounter, rencontre, encounter,\nRecover, rescue,\nRede, advise, ; sb., counsel,\nRedounded, glanced back,\nReligion, religious order,\nReneye, deny,\nReport, refer,\nResemblaunt; semblance,\nRetrayed, drew back,\nRightwise, rightly,\nRivage, shore,\nRomed, roared,\nRoted, practised,\nRove, cleft,\nRownsepyk, a branch,\nSacring, consecrating,\nSad, serious,\nSadly, heartily, earnestly,\nSalle, room,\nSamite, silk stuff with gold or silver\nthreads,\nSangreal, Holy Grail,\nSarps, girdles,\nSaw, proverb,\nScathes, harms, hurts,\nScripture, writing,\nSearch, probe wounds,\nSelar, canopy,\nSemblable, like,\nSemblant, semblance,\nSendal, fine cloth,\nSennight, week,\nServage, slavery,\nSewer, officer who set on dishes and tasted them,\nShaft-mon, handbreadth,\nShaw, thicket,\nSheef, thrust,\nSheer-Thursday, Thursday in Holy Week,\nShend, harm,\nShenship, disgrace,\nShent, undone, blamed,\nShour, attack,\nShrew, rascal,\nShrewd, knavish,\nSib, akin to,\nSideling, sideways,\nSiege, seat,\nSignified, likened,\nSiker, sure,\nSikerness, assurance,\nSith, since,\nSithen, afterwards, since,\nSkift, changed,\nSlade, valley,\nSlake, glen,\nSoil (to go to), hunting term for taking the water,\nSonds, messages,\nSort, company,\nSperd, bolted,\nSpere, ask, inquire,\nSpered, asked,\nSperhawk, sparrowhawk,\nSprent, sprinkled,\nStale, station,\nStark, thoroughly,\nStead, place,\nStert, started, rose quickly,\nSteven, appointment,; steven ser. appointment made,\nSteven, voice,\nStigh, path,\nStilly, silently,\nStint, fixed revenue,\nStonied, astonished,; became confused,\nStour, battle,\nStrain, race, descent,\nStrait, narrow,\nStraked, blew a horn,\nSue, pursue,\nSued, pursued,\nSurcingles, saddle girths,\nSwang, swung,\nSweven, dream,\nSwough, sound of wind,\nTalent, desire,\nTallages, taxes,\nTallies, taxes,\nTamed, crushed,\nTatches, qualities,\nTene, sorrow,\nTerm, period of time,\nThilk, that same,\nTho, then,\nThrang, pushed,\nThrulled, pushed,\nTill, to,\nTo-brast, burst,\nTo-fore, before,\nTo-morn, to-morrow,\nTook, gave,\nTo-rove, broke up,\nTo-shivered, broken to pieces,\nTraced, advanced and retreated,\nTrains, devices, wiles,\nTrasing, pressing forward,\nTravers (met at), came across,\nTraverse, slantwise,\nTraversed, moved sideways,\nTray, grief,\nTreatise, treaty,\nTree, timber,\nTrenchant, cutting, sharp,\nTres:, hunting term,\nTruage, tribute,\nTrussed, packed,\nUbblie, wafer, Host,\nUmbecast, cast about,\nUmberere, the part of the helmet which shaded the eyes,\nUmbre, shade,\nUnavised, thoughtlessly,\nUncouth, strange,\nUnderne, - A.M.,\nUngoodly, rudely,\nUnhappy, unlucky,\nUnhilled, uncovered,\nUnr the, scarcely,\nUnsicker, unstable,\nUnwimpled, uncovered,\nUnwrast, untwisted, unbound,\nUpright, flat on the back,\nUp-so-down, upside down,\nUre, usage,\nUtas, octave of a festival,\nUtterance, uttermost,\nVarlet, servant,\nVenery, hunting,\nVen ails, breathing holes,\nVillain, man of low birth,\nVisors, the perforated parts of helmets,\nVoided, slipped away from,\nWagging, shaking,\nWaited, watched,\nWaits, watches,\nWallop, gallop,\nWanhope, despair,\nWap, ripple,\nWare, aware,\nWarison, reward,\nWarn, forbid, refuse,\nWeeds, garments,\nWeltered, rolled about,\nWend, thought,\nWer-wolf, a man turned into a wolf by magic,\nWhere, whereas,\nWide-where, over wide space,\nWield, possess, have power over,\nWield himself, come to himself,\nWight, brave, strong,\nWightly, swiftly,\nWildsome, desolate,\nWimpled, with the head covered,\nWin, make way,\nWite, v., blame,\nWithin-forth, on the inside,\nWithout-forth, on the outside,\nWittiest, cleverest,\nWittily, cleverly,\nWitting, knowledge,\nWold or nold, would or would not,\nWonder, adj., wondrous,\nWonder, adv., wondrously,\nWonderly, wonderfully,\nWood, mad,\nWoodness, madness,\nWood shaw, thicket of the wood,\nWorship, honour,\nWorshipped, cause to be honoured,\nWorts, roots,\nWot, know,\nWrack, destruction,\nWroken, wreaked,\nWrothe, twisted,\nYede, ran,\nYelden, yielded,\nYerde, stick, stem,\nYode, went,\nYolden, yielded,\nY-wis, certainly,\nEnd of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Le Morte D\u2019Arthur, Volume II (of II),\nby Thomas Malory\n*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LE MORTE D\u2019ARTHUR, VOLUME II ***\n***** This file should be named 1252-0.txt or 1252-0.zip *****\nThis and all associated files of various formats will be found in:\nProduced by Mike Lough, and David Widger\nUpdated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will\nbe renamed.\nCreating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright\nlaw means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,\nso the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United\nStates without permission and without paying copyright\nroyalties. 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Thus, we do not\nnecessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper\nedition.\nMost people start at our Web site which has the main PG search\nfacility: www.gutenberg.org\nThis Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,\nincluding how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary\nArchive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to\nsubscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg - Le Morte D\u2019Arthur, Volume II (of II)\n"}, {"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1451, "culture": " English\n", "content": "Produced by Peter Vachuska, Dave Morgan, Mary Meehan and\nthe Online Distributed Proofreading Team at\nhttps://www.pgdp.net\n _and the Knights of the Round Table_\n EDITED BY RUPERT S. HOLLAND\n GROSSET & DUNLAP\n _Publishers_ NEW YORK\n _Copyright, 1919, by\n George W. Jacobs & Company_\n _Printed in the United States of America_\n[Illustration: \"This girdle, lords,\" said she, \"is made for the most\npart of mine own hair, which, while I was yet in the world, I loved full\nwell.\"]\nINTRODUCTION\nKing Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table! What magic is in the\nwords! How they carry us straight to the days of chivalry, to the\nwitchcraft of Merlin, to the wonderful deeds of Lancelot and Perceval\nand Galahad, to the Quest for the Holy Grail, to all that \"glorious\ncompany, the flower of men,\" as Tennyson has called the king and his\ncompanions! Down through the ages the stories have come to us, one of\nthe few great romances which, like the tales of Homer, are as fresh and\nvivid to-day as when men first recited them in court and camp and\ncottage. Other great kings and paladins are lost in the dim shadows of\nlong-past centuries, but Arthur still reigns in Camelot and his knights\nstill ride forth to seek the Grail.\n \"No little thing shall be\n The gentle music of the bygone years,\n Long past to us with all their hopes and fears.\"\nSo wrote the poet William Morris in _The Earthly Paradise_. And surely\nit is no small debt of gratitude we owe the troubadours and chroniclers\nand poets who through many centuries have sung of Arthur and his\nchampions, each adding to the song the gifts of his own imagination, so\nbuilding from simple folk-tales one of the most magnificent and moving\nstories in all literature.\nThis debt perhaps we owe in greatest measure to three men; to Chr\u00e9tien\nde Troies, a Frenchman, who in the twelfth century put many of the old\nArthurian legends into verse; to Sir Thomas Malory, who first wrote out\nmost of the stories in English prose, and whose book, the _Morte\nDarthur_, was printed by William Caxton, the first English printer, in\n1485; and to Alfred, Lord Tennyson, who in his series of poems entitled\nthe _Idylls of the King_ retold the legends in new and beautiful guise\nin the nineteenth century.\nThe history of Arthur is so shrouded in the mists of early England that\nit is difficult to tell exactly who and what he was. There probably was\nan actual Arthur, who lived in the island of Britain in the sixth\ncentury, but probably he was not a king nor even a prince. It seems most\nlikely that he was a chieftain who led his countrymen to victory against\nthe invading English about the year 500. So proud were his countrymen of\nhis victories that they began to invent imaginary stories of his prowess\nto add to the fame of their hero, just as among all peoples legends soon\nspring up about the name of a great leader. As each man told the feats\nof Arthur he contributed those details that appealed most to his own\nfancy and each was apt to think of the hero as a man of his own time,\ndressing and speaking and living as his own kings and princes did, with\nthe result that when we come to the twelfth century we find Geoffrey of\nMonmouth, in his _History of the Kings of Britain_, describing Arthur\nno longer as a half-barbarous Briton, wearing rude armor, his arms and\nlegs bare, but instead as a most Christian king, the flower of medi\u00e6val\nchivalry, decked out in all the gorgeous trappings of a knight of the\nCrusades.\nAs the story of Arthur grew it attracted to itself popular legends of\nall kinds. Its roots were in Britain and the chief threads in its fabric\nremained British-Celtic. The next most important threads were those that\nwere added by the Celtic chroniclers of Ireland. Then stories that were\nnot Celtic at all were woven into the legend, some from Germanic\nsources, which the Saxons or the descendants of the Franks may have\ncontributed, and others that came from the Orient, which may have been\nbrought back from the East by men returning from the Crusades. And if it\nwas the Celts who gave us the most of the material for the stories of\nArthur it was the French poets who first wrote out the stories and gave\nthem enduring form.\nIt was the Frenchman, Chr\u00e9tien de Troies, who lived at the courts of\nChampagne and of Flanders, who put the old legends into verse for the\npleasure of the noble lords and ladies that were his patrons. He\ncomposed six Arthurian poems. The first, which was written about 1160 or\nearlier, related the story of Tristram. The next was called _\u00c9rec et\n\u00c9nide_, and told some of the adventures that were later used by Tennyson\nin his _Geraint and Enid_. The third was _Clig\u00e8s_, a poem that has\nlittle to do with the stories of Arthur and his knights as we have\nthem. Next came the _Conte de la Charrette_, or _Le Chevalier de la\nCharrette_, which set forth the love of Lancelot and Guinevere. Then\nfollowed _Yvain_, or _Le Chevalier au Lion_, and finally came\n_Perceval_, or _Le Conte du Graal_, which gives the first account of the\nHoly Grail.\nNone of these stories are to be found in the work of Geoffrey of\nMonmouth, who had written earlier in Latin, nor in any of the so-called\nchronicles. It was Chr\u00e9tien who took the old folk-tales that men had\nbeen telling each other for centuries and put them into sprightly verse\nfor the entertainment of his lords and ladies. He fashioned the stories\naccording to the taste of his own gay courts, and so Arthur and his\nQueen Guinevere, Lancelot, Perceval and the other knights became far\nmore like French people of the twelfth century than like Britons of the\nsixth. And in introducing the Holy Grail, that sacred and mystic cup\nthat was supposed to hold drops of the blood of Christ and to have been\ncarried to England by Joseph of Arimathea, Chr\u00e9tien added to the\nArthurian legends an old religious story that had had nothing to do with\nArthur originally.\nFrom this point in its history that sturdy ancient English oak, the\noriginal story of Arthur and his knights, an account mainly of warlike\nadventures, sent forth four new branches that have now become part and\nparcel of the parent legend. These four branches are the story of\nMerlin, the story of Lancelot, the story of the Holy Grail, and the\nstory of Tristram and Iseult. Some of the writers who came after\nChr\u00e9tien took one of these stories, some another, each enlarging his\ntheme according to his own taste, until each story was the center of a\nlarge number of new and romantic offshoots. Practically all of them,\nhowever, were bound together by the thread that led from the court of\nthe great King Arthur at Camelot.\nThe story of Merlin, that man of magic, is the least important of the\nfour branches, though Merlin is still an intensely interesting figure in\nthe story of Arthur that we read to-day. The story of Lancelot was to\nprove very important; starting as a romance that had very little\nconnection with Arthur, it became with Malory and Tennyson the real\ncenter of interest of the plot. The story of the Holy Grail proved\nalmost equally important. In the earliest accounts of this Perceval was\nthe knight chosen above all others to reach the Grail Castle, but\nPerceval was too rough and worldly a knight to suit the taste of the\nmonks who wrote out the legends and so they created Galahad to take his\nplace as their own ideal of perfection. And into these adventures are\nwoven some of the tales of Sir Gawain, among them the delightful story\nof Gawain and the Little Maid with the Narrow Sleeves. To the legend of\nPerceval, Wolfram von Eschenbach, a Bavarian, added the story of the son\nof Perceval, or Parzival, as he calls him, the story of Lohengrin, the\nfamous Swan-knight. Tristram and Iseult, the fourth of the branches,\nthough less connected with Arthur than either Lancelot or the Holy\nGrail, became immensely popular with poets and remancers because of its\ngreat love story, and is to be found told again and again in widely\nvarying forms all through the Middle Ages.\nSo we have seen that a British chieftain, winning a great battle in the\nyear 500, became in time celebrated throughout Europe as the greatest\nking of romance. So far it was mainly the French who had made him\nfamous. Layamon, an English priest, had written a poem in English\nconcerning Arthur shortly after 1200, and told of the founding of the\nRound Table, but it was to be a considerable time yet before any English\nwriter was to attempt what the French had already done. Chaucer told\nnone of the Arthurian stories, though he placed the scene of his _Wife\nof Bath's Tale_ at King Arthur's court. An unknown English poet wrote\n_Sir Gawaine and the Green Knight_ somewhere between 1350 and 1375. It\nis not until we come to the _Morte Darthur_ of Sir Thomas Malory,\nfinished in 1469 or 1470, that we reach the next great step in the\nhistory of the legends since the time of Chr\u00e9tien de Troies. But in\nMalory's story Arthur steps forth resplendent, the kingly figure that we\nhave to-day.\nLittle is known concerning Sir Thomas Malory. He seems to have been a\nknight and country gentleman of Warwickshire, a member of Parliament in\nthe reign of Henry VI, and later a soldier on the side of Lancaster in\nthe Wars of the Roses. As a result of the victory of the party of York\nhe had to retire from public life when Edward IV came to the throne, and\nlived quietly at his Warwickshire estate. He was familiar with life at\ncourt and with men-at-arms and he knew how popular the stories of King\nArthur were becoming in England. So, being a man of education, he set to\nwork to make a collection of the legends, using as his chief sources the\nFrench romances.\nMalory showed considerable originality in carrying out his plan. He made\nArthur the central figure, taking the story of Merlin as an introduction\nto the birth of Arthur, instead of as a separate legend, and ending his\naccount soon after the death of the king. He omitted a number of the\nolder legends that had little to do with Arthur, many of them good\nstories, such as that of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. He made the\nEngland of his Arthur something like the England he knew, and his people\nbecame real and living instead of fanciful figures out of a far-distant\npast. His descriptions are vivid and lively and his style so engaging\nthat his work of the fifteenth century is much read to-day. Three\ncharacters stand out from all the rest, Arthur, Lancelot, and Guinevere,\nand these three became in all stories and poems subsequent to Malory's\ntime the main figures of the legends.\nMatthew Arnold attributed to Homer three great epic traits, swiftness,\nsimplicity, and nobility. It is these three characteristics that have\nmade the _Morte Darthur_ so deservedly famous.\nWith the printing of Malory's book by the first English printer, William\nCaxton, in 1485, we come to the end of the Middle Ages in literature.\nManuscripts written out laboriously by monks and clerks were now to\ngive way to the printed page. The age of Elizabeth was less than a\ncentury away, one of the golden ages of the poets. Yet few of the\nElizabethans touched on the story of Arthur. The main exception was\nEdmund Spenser, who made Prince Arthur the hero of his great poem _The\nFaerie Queene_, but Spenser's Arthur and his knights and ladies have\nlittle in common with the figures in the old romances.\nThe succeeding centuries, great as they were in English writers of\ngenius, paid little attention to Arthur. Milton and Dryden made little\nuse of the legends. Stories of ancient chivalry lost their vogue, novels\nwere becoming popular and the poets chose themes closer to their own\ntimes and point of view. Not until the nineteenth century did Arthur\ncome into his own again. Then the Victorian poets turned to him for\ninspiration. William Morris wrote _The Defence of Guenevere_, and a host\nof lesser poets tried their hands on similar themes. Swinburne told the\nstory of _Tristram of Lyonesse_ and the _Tale of Balen_, and James\nRussell Lowell composed his beautiful poem _The Vision of Sir Launfal_.\nMatthew Arnold wrote _Tristram and Iseult_. In 1850 Richard Wagner, the\ngreat German composer, produced his opera _Lohengrin_, and followed it\nwith _Tristan und Isolde_ and _Parsifal_. These tell the old stories in\nsomewhat new form, and follow the early French romances rather than\nMalory.\nBut the true descendant of Chr\u00e9tien de Troies and Malory was Alfred\nTennyson. The great work of this poet's life was his _Idylls of the\nKing_, one of the finest achievements of English literature. He owed his\ninspiration chiefly to Malory. \"The vision of Arthur as I have drawn\nhim,\" Tennyson said to his son, \"had come upon me when, little more than\na boy, I first lighted upon Malory.\" He covered almost the entire field\nof the legends. The _Idylls of the King_ are _The Coming of Arthur_,\n_Geraint and Enid_, _Merlin and Vivien_, _Lancelot and Elaine_, _The\nHoly Grail_, _Pelleas and Ettarre_, _Balin and Balan_, _The Last\nTournament_, _Guinevere_, and _The Passing of Arthur_.\nTennyson gives to the stories far more allegory, far more philosophy\nthan the early poets gave them. His age was interested in philosophy and\nso, as was the case with each of the earlier poets, Tennyson handled the\nlegends after the fashion of his own times. In his pages we see the\ncharacters as actual men and women, subtly drawn, concerned with right\nand wrong far more than with mere knightly adventures. Arthur and\nLancelot and Guinevere hold the center of the stage, and it is the fate\nof these three that provides the great moving motive of the poems.\nTo Tennyson we owe the most nearly perfect version of the story that\ndates back to a dim and legendary England. What verse more beautiful\nthan his to tell of chivalry?\n \"Then, in the boyhood of the year,\n Sir Lancelot and Queen Guinevere\n Rode thro' the coverts of the deer,\n With blissful treble ringing clear.\n She seem'd a part of joyous Spring:\n A gown of grass-green silk she wore,\n Buckled with golden clasps before;\n A light-green tuft of plumes she bore\n Closed in a golden ring.\"\nIn beauty and dignity and human interest Tennyson gives us the great\nworld of Arthurian legend in its most perfect form.\nMalory's _Morte Darthur_ was not Tennyson's only source for the stories\nof his Idylls. The adventures of Geraint he took from the _Mabinogion_,\na collection of medi\u00e6val Welsh tales translated with great charm and\naccuracy by Lady Charlotte Guest, and published in 1838. Also, though to\na very limited extent, he drew some of his incidents from the history of\nGeoffrey of Monmouth and the other early writers of chronicles.\nThe great panorama of stories that we group together under the title of\n_King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table_, when they are told in\nprose, are usually taken from Malory's book, the _Morte Darthur_,\ncondensed in size, for Malory was frequently verbose, and related in\nmore modern English. In this volume we have used as a basis the version\nprepared by Sir James Knowles, which is an abridgment of Malory's work\nas it was printed by Caxton, with a few additions from Geoffrey of\nMonmouth and other sources. To this we have added the story of Sir\nGawain and the Maid with the Narrow Sleeves, which comes originally from\nthe poem of _Perceval_ by Chr\u00e9tien de Troies.\nThe stories seem naturally to group themselves into four divisions, The\nComing of Arthur and the Founding of the Round Table, The Adventures of\nthe Champions of the Round Table, Sir Galahad and the Quest of the Holy\nGrail, and The Passing of Arthur. Into these come all the great\ncharacters of the legends and all the surpassing adventures of the king\nand his knights.\nThe story of how a half-barbarous British Chieftain became the greatest\nking of medi\u00e6val chivalry is a romance in itself. To him poets and\nchroniclers of all lands added one valorous knight after another, one\namazing adventure on top of another, until the result was the greatest\ncollection of legends that have gathered about any king in history. The\nstory of the origin and growth of these world-famous legends is told in\na most delightful book, _The Arthur of the English Poets_, by Howard\nMaynadier, and those who wish to get the historical background of King\nArthur should turn to its pages.\nThose who love brave and knightly deeds, those who love the gorgeous\ntrappings of medi\u00e6val romance, come to the story of Arthur and his Round\nTable, of Lancelot and Perceval and Galahad and Gawain, of Guinevere and\nElaine, and of the Quest for the Holy Grail, and there shall be found\nthe glories that you seek. The king and his knights ride out from\nCamelot. Here shall you join them on their great adventures!\nRUPERT S. HOLLAND.\nCONTENTS\nINTRODUCTION\nTHE COMING OF ARTHUR AND THE FOUNDING OF THE ROUND TABLE\nI MERLIN FORETELLS THE BIRTH OF ARTHUR\nII THE CROWNING OF ARTHUR AND THE SWORD EXCALIBUR\nIII ARTHUR DRIVES THE SAXONS FROM HIS REALM\nIV THE KING'S MANY AND GREAT ADVENTURES\nV SIR BALIN FIGHTS WITH HIS BROTHER, SIR BALAN\nVI THE MARRIAGE OF ARTHUR AND GUINEVERE AND THE FOUNDING OF THE ROUND\nTABLE\nVII THE ADVENTURE OF ARTHUR AND SIR ACCOLON OF GAUL\nVIII ARTHUR IS CROWNED EMPEROR AT ROME\nIX SIR GAWAIN AND THE MAID WITH THE NARROW SLEEVES\nTHE CHAMPIONS OF THE ROUND TABLE\nX THE ADVENTURES OF SIR LANCELOT\nXI THE ADVENTURES OF SIR BEAUMAINS OR SIR GARETH\nXII THE ADVENTURES OF SIR TRISTRAM\nSIR GALAHAD AND THE QUEST OF THE HOLY GRAIL\nXIII THE KNIGHTS GO TO SEEK THE GRAIL\nTHE PASSING OF ARTHUR\nXIV SIR LANCELOT AND THE FAIR ELAINE\nXV THE WAR BETWEEN ARTHUR AND LANCELOT AND THE PASSING OF ARTHUR\nKING ARTHUR AND THE KNIGHTS OF THE ROUND TABLE\nTHE COMING OF ARTHUR AND THE FOUNDING OF THE ROUND TABLE\nI\nMERLIN FORETELLS THE BIRTH OF ARTHUR\nKing Vortigern the usurper sat upon his throne in London, when,\nsuddenly, upon a certain day, ran in a breathless messenger, and cried\naloud--\n\"Arise, Lord King, for the enemy is come; even Ambrosius and Uther, upon\nwhose throne thou sittest--and full twenty thousand with them--and they\nhave sworn by a great oath, Lord, to slay thee, ere this year be done;\nand even now they march towards thee as the north wind of winter for\nbitterness and haste.\"\nAt those words Vortigern's face grew white as ashes, and, rising in\nconfusion and disorder, he sent for all the best artificers and\ncraftsmen and mechanics, and commanded them vehemently to go and build\nhim straightway in the furthest west of his lands a great and strong\ncastle, where he might fly for refuge and escape the vengeance of his\nmaster's sons--\"and, moreover,\" cried he, \"let the work be done within a\nhundred days from now, or I will surely spare no life amongst you all.\"\nThen all the host of craftsmen, fearing for their lives, found out a\nproper site whereon to build the tower, and eagerly began to lay in the\nfoundations. But no sooner were the walls raised up above the ground\nthan all their work was overwhelmed and broken down by night invisibly,\nno man perceiving how, or by whom, or what. And the same thing happening\nagain, and yet again, all the workmen, full of terror, sought out the\nking, and threw themselves upon their faces before him, beseeching him\nto interfere and help them or to deliver them from their dreadful work.\nFilled with mixed rage and fear, the king called for the astrologers and\nwizards, and took counsel with them what these things might be, and how\nto overcome them. The wizards worked their spells and incantations, and\nin the end declared that nothing but the blood of a youth born without\nmortal father, smeared on the foundations of the castle, could avail to\nmake it stand. Messengers were therefore sent forthwith through all the\nland to find, if it were possible, such a child. And, as some of them\nwent down a certain village street, they saw a band of lads fighting and\nquarreling, and heard them shout at one--\"Avaunt, thou imp!--avaunt! Son\nof no mortal man! go, find thy father, and leave us in peace.\"\nAt that the messengers looked steadfastly on the lad, and asked who he\nwas. One said his name was Merlin; another, that his birth and parentage\nwere known by no man; a third, that the foul fiend alone was his father.\nHearing the things, the officers seized Merlin, and carried him before\nthe king by force.\nBut no sooner was he brought to him than he asked in a loud voice, for\nwhat cause he was thus dragged there?\n\"My magicians,\" answered Vortigern, \"told me to seek out a man that had\nno human father, and to sprinkle my castle with his blood, that it may\nstand.\"\n\"Order those magicians,\" said Merlin, \"to come before me, and I will\nconvict them of a lie.\"\nThe king was astonished at his words, but commanded the magicians to\ncome and sit down before Merlin, who cried to them--\n\"Because ye know not what it is that hinders the foundation of the\ncastle, ye have advised my blood for a cement to it, as if that would\navail; but tell me now rather what there is below that ground, for\nsomething there is surely underneath that will not suffer the tower to\nstand?\"\nThe wizards at these words began to fear, and made no answer. Then said\nMerlin to the king--\n\"I pray, Lord, that workmen may be ordered to dig deep down into the\nground till they shall come to a great pool of water.\"\nThis then was done, and the pool discovered far beneath the surface of\nthe ground.\nThen, turning again to the magicians, Merlin said, \"Tell me now, false\nsycophants, what there is underneath that pool?\"--but they were silent.\nThen said he to the king, \"Command this pool to be drained, and at the\nbottom shall be found two dragons, great and huge, which now are\nsleeping, but which at night awake and fight and tear each other. At\ntheir great struggle all the ground shakes and trembles, and so casts\ndown thy towers, which, therefore, never yet could find secure\nfoundations.\"\nThe king was amazed at these words, but commanded the pool to be\nforthwith drained; and surely at the bottom of it did they presently\ndiscover the two dragons, fast asleep, as Merlin had declared.\nBut Vortigern sat upon the brink of the pool till night to see what else\nwould happen.\nThen those two dragons, one of which was white, the other red, rose up\nand came near one another, and began a sore fight, and cast forth fire\nwith their breath. But the white dragon had the advantage, and chased\nthe other to the end of the lake. And he, for grief at his flight,\nturned back upon his foe, and renewed the combat, and forced him to\nretire in turn. But in the end the red dragon was worsted, and the white\ndragon disappeared no man knew where.\nWhen their battle was done, the king desired Merlin to tell him what it\nmeant. Whereat he, bursting into tears, cried out this prophecy, which\nfirst foretold the coming of King Arthur.\n\"Woe to the red dragon, which figureth the British nation, for his\nbanishment cometh quickly; his lurking-holes shall be seized by the\nwhite dragon--the Saxon whom thou, O king, hast called to the land. The\nmountains shall be leveled as the valleys, and the rivers of the valleys\nshall run blood; cities shall be burned, and churches laid in ruins;\ntill at length the oppressed shall turn for a season and prevail against\nthe strangers. For a Boar of Cornwall shall arise and rend them, and\ntrample their necks beneath his feet. The island shall be subject to his\npower, and he shall take the forests of Gaul. The house of Romulus shall\ndread him--all the world shall fear him--and his end shall no man know;\nhe shall be immortal in the mouths of the people, and his works shall be\nfood to those that tell them.\n\"But as for thee, O Vortigern, flee thou the sons of Constantine, for\nthey shall burn thee in thy tower. For thine own ruin wast thou traitor\nto their father, and didst bring the Saxon heathens to the land.\nAurelius and Uther are even now upon thee to revenge their father's\nmurder; and the brood of the white dragon shall waste thy country, and\nshall lick thy blood. Find out some refuge, if thou wilt! but who may\nescape the doom of God?\"\nThe king heard all this, trembling greatly; and, convicted of his sins,\nsaid nothing in reply. Only he hasted the builders of his tower by day\nand night, and rested not till he had fled thereto.\nIn the meantime, Aurelius, the rightful king, was hailed with joy by the\nBritons, who flocked to his standard, and prayed to be led against the\nSaxons. But he, till he had first killed Vortigern, would begin no other\nwar. He marched therefore to Cambria, and came before the tower which\nthe usurper had built. Then, crying out to all his knights, \"Avenge ye\non him who hath ruined Britain and slain my father and your king!\" he\nrushed with many thousands at the castle walls. But, being driven back\nagain and yet again, at length he thought of fire, and ordered blazing\nbrands to be cast into the building from all sides. These, finding soon\na proper fuel, ceased not to rage till, spreading to a mighty\nconflagration, they burned down the tower, and Vortigern within it.\nThen did Aurelius turn his strength against Hengist and the Saxons, and,\ndefeating them in many places, weakened their power for a long season,\nso that the land had peace.\nAnon the king, making journeys to and fro, restoring ruined churches\nand, creating order, came to the monastery near Salisbury, where all\nthose British knights lay buried who had been slain there by the\ntreachery of Hengist. For when in former times Hengist had made a solemn\ntruce with Vortigern, to meet in peace and settle terms, whereby himself\nand all his Saxons should depart from Britain, the Saxon soldiers\ncarried every one of them beneath his garment a long dagger, and, at a\ngiven signal, fell upon the Britons, and slew them, to the number of\nnearly five hundred.\nThe sight of the place where the dead lay moved Aurelius to great\nsorrow, and he cast about in his mind how to make a worthy tomb over so\nmany noble martyrs, who had died there for their country.\nWhen he had in vain consulted many craftsmen and builders, he sent, by\nthe advice of the archbishop, for Merlin, and asked him what to do. \"If\nyou would honor the burying-place of these men,\" said Merlin, \"with an\neverlasting monument, send for the Giants' Dance which is in Killaraus,\na mountain; in Ireland; for there is a structure of stone there which\nnone of this age could raise without a perfect knowledge of the arts.\nThey are stones of a vast size and wondrous nature, and if they can be\nplaced here as they are there, round this spot of ground, they will\nstand for ever.\"\nAt these words of Merlin, Aurelius burst into laughter, and said, \"How\nis it possible to remove such vast stones from so great a distance, as\nif Britain, also, had no stones fit for the work?\"\n\"I pray the king,\" said Merlin, \"to forbear vain laughter; what I have\nsaid is true, for those stones are mystical and have healing virtues.\nThe giants of old brought them from the furthest coast of Africa, and\nplaced them in Ireland while they lived in that country: and their\ndesign was to make baths in them, for use in time of grievous illness.\nFor if they washed the stones and put the sick into the water, it\ncertainly healed them, as also it did them that were wounded in battle;\nand there is no stone among them but hath the same virtue still.\"\nWhen the Britons heard this, they resolved to send for the stones, and\nto make war upon the people of Ireland if they offered to withhold them.\nSo, when they had chosen Uther the king's brother for their chief, they\nset sail, to the number of 15,000 men, and came to Ireland. There\nGillomanius, the king, withstood them fiercely, and not till after a\ngreat battle could they approach the Giants' Dance, the sight of which\nfilled them with joy and admiration. But when they sought to move the\nstones, the strength of all the army was in vain, until Merlin,\nlaughing at their failures, contrived machines of wondrous cunning,\nwhich took them down with ease, and placed them in the ships.\nWhen they had brought the whole to Salisbury, Aurelius, with the crown\nupon his head, kept for four days the feast of Pentecost with royal\npomp; and in the midst of all the clergy and the people, Merlin raised\nup the stones, and set them round the sepulcher of the knights and\nbarons, as they stood in the mountains of Ireland.\nThen was the monument called \"Stonehenge,\" and stands, as all men know,\nupon the plain of Salisbury to this very day.\nSoon thereafter it befell that Aurelius was slain by poison at\nWinchester, and was himself buried within the Giants' Dance.\nAt the same time came forth a comet of amazing size and brightness,\ndarting out a beam, at the end whereof was a cloud of fire shaped like a\ndragon, from whose mouth went out two rays, one stretching over Gaul,\nthe other ending in seven lesser rays over the Irish sea.\nAt the appearance of this star a great dread fell upon the people, and\nUther, marching into Cambria against the son of Vortigern, himself was\nvery troubled to learn what it might mean. Then Merlin, being called\nbefore him, cried with a loud voice: \"O mighty loss! O stricken Britain!\nAlas! the great prince is gone from us. Aurelius Ambrosius is dead,\nwhose death will be ours also, unless God help us. Haste, therefore,\nnoble Uther, to destroy the enemy; the victory shall be thine, and thou\nshalt be king of all Britain. For the star with the fiery dragon\nsignifies thyself; and the ray over Gaul portends that thou shalt have a\nson, most mighty, whom all those kingdoms shall obey which the ray\ncovers.\"\nThus, for the second time, did Merlin foretell the coming of King\nArthur. And Uther, when he was made king, remembered Merlin's words, and\ncaused two dragons to be made in gold, in likeness of the dragon he had\nseen in the star. One of these he gave to Winchester Cathedral, and had\nthe other carried into all his wars before him, whence he was ever after\ncalled Uther Pendragon, or the dragon's head.\nNow, when Uther Pendragon had passed through all the land, and settled\nit--and even voyaged into all the countries of the Scots, and tamed the\nfierceness of that rebel people--he came to London, and ministered\njustice there. And it befell at a certain great banquet and high feast\nwhich the king made at Easter-tide, there came, with many other earls\nand barons, Gorlo\u00efs, Duke of Cornwall, and his wife Igerna, who was the\nmost famous beauty in all Britain. And soon thereafter, Gorlo\u00efs being\nslain in battle, Uther determined to make Igerna his own wife. But in\norder to do this, and enable him to come to her--for she was shut up in\nthe high castle of Tintagil, on the furthest coast of Cornwall--the king\nsent for Merlin, to take counsel with him and to pray his help. This,\ntherefore, Merlin promised him on one condition--namely, that the king\nshould give him up the first son born of the marriage. For Merlin by\nhis art foreknew that this firstborn should be the long-wished prince,\nKing Arthur.\nWhen Uther, therefore, was at length happily wedded, Merlin came to the\ncastle on a certain day, and said, \"Sir, thou must now provide thee for\nthe nourishing of thy child.\"\nAnd the king, nothing doubting, said, \"Be it as thou wilt.\"\n\"I know a lord of thine in this land,\" said Merlin, \"who is a man both\ntrue and faithful; let him have the nourishing of the child. His name is\nSir Ector, and he hath fair possessions both in England and in Wales.\nWhen, therefore, the child is born, let him be delivered unto me,\nunchristened, at yonder postern-gate, and I will bestow him in the care\nof this good knight.\"\nSo when the child was born, the king bid two knights and two ladies to\ntake it, bound in rich cloth of gold, and deliver it to a poor man whom\nthey should discover at the postern-gate. And the child being delivered\nthus to Merlin, who himself took the guise of a poor man, was carried by\nhim to a holy priest and christened by the name of Arthur, and then was\ntaken to Sir Ector's house, and nourished at Sir Ector's wife's own\nbreasts. And in the same house he remained privily for many years, no\nman soever knowing where he was, save Merlin and the king.\nAnon it befell that the king was seized by a lingering distemper, and\nthe Saxon heathens, taking their occasion, came back from over sea, and\nswarmed upon the land, wasting it with fire and sword. When Uther heard\nthereof, he fell into a greater rage than his weakness could bear, and\ncommanded all his nobles to come before him, that he might upbraid them\nfor their cowardice. And when he had sharply and hotly rebuked them, he\nswore that he himself, nigh unto death although he lay, would lead them\nforth against the enemy. Then causing a horse-litter to be made, in\nwhich he might be carried--for he was too faint and weak to ride--he\nwent up with all his army swiftly against the Saxons.\nBut they, when they heard that Uther was coming in a litter, disdained\nto fight him, saying it would be shame for brave men to fight with one\nhalf dead. So they retired into their city; and, as it were in scorn of\ndanger, left the gates wide open. But Uther straightway commanding his\nmen to assault the town, they did so without loss of time, and had\nalready reached the gates, when the Saxons, repenting too late of their\nhaughty pride, rushed forth to the defense. The battle raged till night,\nand was begun again next day; but at last, their leaders, Octa and Eosa,\nbeing slain, the Saxons turned their backs and fled, leaving the Britons\na full triumph.\nThe king at this felt so great joy, that, whereas before he could scarce\nraise himself without help, he now sat upright in his litter by himself,\nand said, with a laughing and merry face, \"They called me the half-dead\nking, and so indeed I was; but victory to me half dead is better than\ndefeat and the best health. For to die with honor is far better than to\nlive disgraced.\"\nBut the Saxons, although thus defeated, were ready still for war. Uther\nwould have pursued them; but his illness had by now so grown, that his\nknights and barons kept him from the adventure. Whereat the enemy took\ncourage, and left nothing undone to destroy the land; until, descending\nto the vilest treachery, they resolved to kill the king by poison.\nTo this end, as he lay sick at Verulum, they sent and poisoned\nstealthily a spring of clear water, whence he was wont to drink daily;\nand so, on the very next day, he was taken with the pains of death, as\nwere also a hundred others after him, before the villainy was\ndiscovered, and heaps of earth thrown over the well.\nThe knights and barons, full of sorrow, now took counsel together, and\ncame to Merlin for his help to learn the king's will before he died, for\nhe was by this time speechless. \"Sirs, there is no remedy,\" said Merlin,\n\"and God's will must be done; but be ye all to-morrow before him, for\nGod will make him speak before he die.\"\nSo on the morrow all the barons, with Merlin, stood round the bedside of\nthe king; and Merlin said aloud to Uther, \"Lord, shall thy son Arthur be\nthe king of all this realm after thy days?\"\nThen Uther Pendragon turned him about, and said, in the hearing of them\nall, \"God's blessing and mine be upon him. I bid him pray for my soul,\nand also that he claim my crown, or forfeit all my blessing;\" and with\nthose words he died.\nThen came together all the bishops and the clergy, and great multitudes\nof people, and bewailed the king; and carrying his body to the convent\nof Ambrius, they buried it close by his brother's grave, within the\n\"Giants' Dance.\"\nII\nTHE CROWNING OF ARTHUR AND THE SWORD EXCALIBUR\nNow Arthur the prince had all this time been nourished in Sir Ector's\nhouse as his own son, and was fair and tall and comely, being of the age\nof fifteen years, great in strength, gentle in manner, and accomplished\nin all exercises proper for the training of a knight.\nBut as yet he knew not of his father; for Merlin had so dealt, that none\nsave Uther and himself knew aught about him. Wherefore it befell that\nmany of the knights and barons who heard King Uther speak before his\ndeath, and call his son Arthur his successor, were in great amazement;\nand some doubted, and others were displeased.\nAnon the chief lords and princes set forth each to his own land, and,\nraising armed men and multitudes of followers, determined every one to\ngain the crown for himself; for they said in their hearts, \"If there be\nany such a son at all as he of whom this wizard forced the king to\nspeak, who are we that a beardless boy should have rule over us?\"\nSo the land stood long in great peril, for every lord and baron sought\nbut his own advantage; and the Saxons, growing ever more adventurous,\nwasted and overran the towns and villages in every part.\nThen Merlin went to Brice, the Archbishop of Canterbury, and advised him\nto require all the earls and barons of the realm and all knights and\ngentlemen-at-arms to come to him at London, before Christmas, under pain\nof cursing, that they might learn the will of Heaven who should be king.\nThis, therefore, the archbishop did, and upon Christmas Eve were met\ntogether in London all the greatest princes, lords, and barons; and long\nbefore day they prayed in St. Paul's Church, and the archbishop besought\nHeaven for a sign who should be lawful king of all the realm.\nAnd as they prayed, there was seen in the churchyard, set straight\nbefore the doorways of the church, a huge square stone having a naked\nsword stuck in the midst of it. And on the sword was written in letters\nof gold, \"Whoso pulleth out the sword from this stone is born the\nrightful King of England.\"\nAt this all the people wondered greatly; and, when Mass was over, the\nnobles, knights, and princes ran out eagerly from the church to see the\nstone and sword; and a law was forthwith made that whoso should pull out\nthe sword should be acknowledged straightway King of Britain.\nThen many knights and barons pulled at the sword with all their might,\nand some of them tried many times, but none could stir or move it.\nWhen all had tried in vain, the archbishop declared the man whom Heaven\nhad chosen was not yet there. \"But God,\" said he, \"will doubtless make\nhim known ere many days.\"\nSo ten knights were chosen, being men of high renown, to watch and keep\nthe sword; and there was proclamation made through all the land that\nwhosoever would, had leave and liberty to try and pull it from the\nstone. But though great multitudes of people came, both gentle and\nsimple, for many days, no man could ever move the sword a hair's breadth\nfrom its place.\nNow, at the New Year's Eve a great tournament was to be held in London,\nwhich the archbishop had devised to keep together lords and commons,\nlest they should grow estranged in the troublous and unsettled times. To\nthe which tournament there came, with many other knights, Sir Ector,\nArthur's foster-father, who had great possessions near to London; and\nwith him came his son, Sir Key, but recently made knight, to take his\npart in the jousting, and young Arthur also to witness all the sports\nand fighting.\nBut as they rode towards the jousts, Sir Key found suddenly he had no\nsword, for he had left it at his father's house; and turning to young\nArthur, he prayed him to ride back and fetch it for him. \"I will with a\ngood will,\" said Arthur; and rode fast back after the sword.\nBut when he came to the house he found it locked and empty, for all were\ngone forth to see the tournament. Whereat, being angry and impatient, he\nsaid within himself, \"I will ride to the churchyard and take with me\nthe sword that sticketh in the stone, for my brother shall not go\nwithout a sword this day.\"\nSo he rode and came to the churchyard, and alighting from his horse he\ntied him to the gate, and went to the pavilion, which was pitched near\nthe stone, wherein abode the ten knights who watched and kept it; but he\nfound no knights there, for all were gone to see the jousting.\nThen he took the sword by its handle, and lightly and fiercely he pulled\nit out of the stone, and took his horse and rode until he came to Sir\nKey and delivered him the sword. But as soon as Sir Key saw it he knew\nwell it was the sword of the stone, and, riding swiftly to his father,\nhe cried out, \"Lo! here, sir, is the sword of the stone, wherefore it is\nI who must be king of all this land.\"\nWhen Sir Ector saw the sword, he turned back straight with Arthur and\nSir Key and came to the churchyard, and there alighting, they went all\nthree into the church, and Sir Key was sworn to tell truly how he came\nby the sword. Then he confessed it was his brother Arthur who had\nbrought it to him.\nWhereat Sir Ector, turning to young Arthur, asked him--\"How gottest thou\nthe sword?\"\n\"Sir,\" said he, \"I will tell you. When I went home to fetch my brother's\nsword, I found nobody to deliver it to me, for all were abroad to the\njousts. Yet was I loth to leave my brother swordless, and, bethinking me\nof this one, I came hither eagerly to fetch it for him, and pulled it\nout of the stone without any pain.\"\nThen said Sir Ector, much amazed and looking steadfastly on Arthur, \"If\nthis indeed be thus, 'tis thou who shalt be king of all this land--and\nGod will have it so--for none but he who should be rightful Lord of\nBritain might ever draw this sword forth from that stone. But let me now\nwith mine own eyes see thee put back the sword into its place and draw\nit forth again.\"\n\"That is no mastery,\" said Arthur; and straightway set it in the stone.\nAnd then Sir Ector pulled at it himself, and after him Sir Key, with all\nhis might, but both of them in vain: then Arthur, reaching forth his\nhand and grasping at the pommel, pulled it out easily, and at once.\nThen fell Sir Ector down upon his knees upon the ground before young\nArthur, and Sir Key also with him, and straightway did him homage as\ntheir sovereign lord.\nBut Arthur cried aloud, \"Alas! mine own dear father and my brother, why\nkneel ye thus to me?\"\n\"Nay, my Lord Arthur,\" answered then Sir Ector, \"we are of no\nblood-kinship with thee, and little though I thought how high thy kin\nmight be, yet wast thou never more than foster-child of mine.\" And then\nhe told him all he knew about his infancy, and how a stranger had\ndelivered him, with a great sum of gold, into his hands to be brought up\nand nourished as his own born child, and then had disappeared.\nBut when young Arthur heard of it, he fell upon Sir Ector's neck, and\nwept, and made great lamentation, \"For now,\" said he, \"I have in one\nday lost my father and my mother and my brother.\"\n\"Sir,\" said Sir Ector presently, \"when thou shalt be made king be good\nand gracious unto me and mine.\"\n\"If not,\" said Arthur, \"I were no true man's son at all, for thou art he\nin all the world to whom I owe the most; and my good lady and mother,\nthy wife, hath ever kept and fostered me as though I were her own; so if\nit be God's will that I be king hereafter as thou sayest, desire of me\nwhatever thing thou wilt and I will do it; and God forbid that I should\nfail thee in it.\"\n\"I will but pray,\" replied Sir Ector, \"that thou wilt make my son Sir\nKey, thy foster-brother, seneschal of all the lands.\"\n\"That shall he be,\" said Arthur; \"and never shall another hold that\noffice, save thy son, while he and I do live.\"\nAnon, they left the church and went to the archbishop to tell him that\nthe sword had been achieved. And when he saw the sword in Arthur's hand\nhe set a day and summoned all the princes, knights, and barons to meet\nagain at St. Paul's Church and see the will of Heaven signified. So when\nthey came together, the sword was put back in the stone, and all tried,\nfrom the greatest to the least, to move it; but there before them all\nnot one could take it out save Arthur only.\nBut then befell a great confusion and dispute, for some cried out it was\nthe will of Heaven, and, \"Long live King Arthur,\" but many more were\nfull of wrath and said, \"What! would ye give the ancient scepter of this\nland unto a boy born none know how?\" And the contention growing greatly,\ntill nothing could be done to pacify their rage, the meeting was at\nlength broken up by the archbishop and adjourned till Candlemas, when\nall should meet again.\nBut when Candlemas was come, Arthur alone again pulled forth the sword,\nthough more than ever came to win it; and the barons, sorely vexed and\nangry, put it in delay till Easter. But as he had sped before so he did\nat Easter, and the barons yet once more contrived delays till Pentecost.\nBut now the archbishop, fully seeing God's will, called together, by\nMerlin's counsel, a band of knights and gentlemen-at-arms, and set them\nabout Arthur to keep him safely till the Feast of Pentecost. And when at\nthe feast Arthur still again alone prevailed to move the sword, the\npeople all with one accord cried out, \"Long live King Arthur! we will\nhave no more delay, nor any other king, for so it is God's will; and we\nwill slay whoso resisteth Him and Arthur;\" and wherewithal they kneeled\ndown all at once, and cried for Arthur's grace and pardon that they had\nso long delayed him from his crown. Then he full sweetly and\nmajestically pardoned them; and taking in his hand the sword, he offered\nit upon the high altar of the church.\nAnon was he solemnly knighted with great pomp by the most famous knight\nthere present, and the crown was placed upon his head; and, having\ntaken oath to all the people, lords and commons, to be true king and\ndeal in justice only unto his life's end, he received homage and service\nfrom all the barons who held lands and castles from the crown. Then he\nmade Sir Key, High Steward of England, and Sir Badewaine of Britain,\nConstable, and Sir Ulfius, Chamberlain: and after this, with all his\ncourt and a great retinue of knights and armed men, he journeyed into\nWales, and was crowned again in the old city of Caerleon-upon-Usk.\nMeanwhile those knights and barons who had so long delayed him from the\ncrown, met together and went up to the coronation feast at Caerleon, as\nif to do him homage; and there they ate and drank such things as were\nset before them at the royal banquet, sitting with the others in the\ngreat hall.\nBut when after the banquet Arthur began, according to the ancient royal\ncustom, to bestow great boons and fiefs on whom he would, they all with\none accord rose up, and scornfully refused his gifts, crying that they\nwould take nothing from a beardless boy come of low or unknown birth,\nbut would instead give him good gifts of hard sword-strokes between neck\nand shoulders.\nWhereat arose a deadly tumult in the hall, and every man there made him\nready to fight. But Arthur leaped up as a flame of fire against them,\nand all his knights and barons drawing their swords, rushed after him\nupon them and began a full sore battle; and presently the king's party\nprevailed, and drave the rebels from the hall and from the city, closing\nthe gates behind them; and King Arthur brake his sword upon them in his\neagerness and rage.\nBut amongst them were six kings of great renown and might, who more than\nall raged against Arthur and determined to destroy him, namely, King\nLot, King Nanters, King Urien, King Carados, King Yder, and King\nAnguisant. These six, therefore, joining their armies together, laid\nclose siege to the city of Caerleon, wherefrom King Arthur had so\nshamefully driven them.\nAnd after fifteen days Merlin came suddenly into their camp and asked\nthem what this treason meant. Then he declared to them that Arthur was\nno base adventurer, but King Uther's son, whom they were bound to serve\nand honor even though Heaven had not vouch-safed the wondrous miracle of\nthe sword. Some of the kings, when they heard Merlin speak thus,\nmarveled and believed him; but others, as King Lot, laughed him and his\nwords to scorn, and mocked him for a conjurer and wizard. But it was\nagreed with Merlin that Arthur should come forth and speak with the\nkings.\nSo he went forth to them to the city gate, and with him the archbishop\nand Merlin, and Sir Key, Sir Brastias, and a great company of others.\nAnd he spared them not in his speech, but spoke to them as king and\nchieftain, telling them plainly he would make them all bow to him if he\nlived, unless they choose to do him homage there and then; and so they\nparted in great wrath, and each side armed in haste.\n\"What will ye do?\" said Merlin to the kings; \"ye had best hold your\nhands, for were ye ten times as many ye should not prevail.\"\n\"Shall we be afraid of a dream-reader?\" quoth King Lot in scorn.\nWith that Merlin vanished away and came to King Arthur.\nThen Arthur said to Merlin, \"I have need now of a sword that shall\nchastise these rebels terribly.\"\n\"Come then with me,\" said Merlin, \"for hard by there is a sword that I\ncan gain for thee.\"\nSo they rode out that night till they came to a fair and broad lake, and\nin the midst of it King Arthur saw an arm thrust up, clothed in white\nsamite, and holding a great sword in the hand.\n\"Lo! yonder is the sword I spoke of,\" said Merlin.\nThen saw they a damsel floating on the lake in the moonlight. \"What\ndamsel is that?\" said the king.\n\"The lady of the lake,\" said Merlin; \"for upon this lake there is a\nrock, and on the rock a noble palace, where she abideth, and she will\ncome towards thee presently, when thou shalt ask her courteously for the\nsword.\"\nTherewith the damsel came to King Arthur, and saluted him, and he\nsaluted her, and said, \"Lady, what sword is that the arm holdeth above\nthe water? I would that it were mine, for I have no sword.\"\n\"Sir King,\" said the lady of the lake, \"that sword is mine, and if thou\nwilt give me in return a gift whenever I shall ask it of thee, thou\nshalt have it.\"\n\"By my faith,\" said he, \"I will give thee any gift that thou shalt ask.\"\n\"Well,\" said the damsel, \"go into yonder barge, and row thyself unto the\nsword, and take it and the scabbard with thee, and I will ask my gift of\nthee when I see my time.\"\nSo King Arthur and Merlin alighted, and tied their horses to two trees,\nand went into the barge; and when they came to the sword that the hand\nheld, King Arthur took it by the handle and bore it with him, and the\narm and hand went down under the water; and so they came back to land,\nand rode again to Caerleon.\nOn the morrow Merlin bade King Arthur to set fiercely on the enemy; and\nin the meanwhile three hundred good knights went over to King Arthur\nfrom the rebels' side. Then at the spring of day, when they had scarce\nleft their tents, he fell on them with might and main, and Sir\nBadewaine, Sir Key, and Sir Brastias slew on the right and on the left\nmarvelously; and ever in the thickest of the fight King Arthur raged\nlike a young lion, and laid on with his sword, and did wondrous deeds of\narms, to the joy and admiration of the knights and barons who beheld\nhim.\nThen King Lot, King Carados, and the King of the Hundred Knights--who\nalso was with them--going round to the rear, set on King Arthur fiercely\nfrom behind; but King Arthur, turning to his knights, fought ever in the\nforemost press until his horse was slain beneath him. At that, King Lot\nrode furiously at him, and smote him down; but rising straightway, and\nbeing set again on horseback, he drew his sword Excalibur that he had\ngained by Merlin from the lady of the lake, which, shining brightly as\nthe light of thirty torches, dazzled the eyes of his enemies. And\ntherewith falling on them afresh with all his knights, he drove them\nback and slew them in great numbers, and Merlin by his arts scattered\namong them fire and pitchy smoke, so that they broke and fled. Then all\nthe common people of Caerleon, seeing them give way, rose up with one\naccord, and rushed at them with clubs and staves, and chased them far\nand wide, and slew many great knights and lords, and the remainder of\nthem fled and were seen no more. Thus won King Arthur his first battle\nand put his enemies to shame.\nBut the six kings, though sorely routed, prepared for a new war, and\njoining to themselves five others swore together that, whether for weal\nor woe, they would keep steadfast alliance till they had destroyed King\nArthur. Then, with a host of 50,000 men-at-arms on horseback, and 10,000\nfoot, they were soon ready, and sent forth their fore-riders, and drew\nfrom the northern country towards King Arthur, to the castle of\nBedgraine.\nBut he by Merlin's counsel had sent over sea to King Ban of Benwick and\nKing Bors of Gaul, praying them to come and help him in his wars, and\npromising to help them in return against King Claudas, their foe. To\nwhich those kings made answer that they would joyfully fulfil his wish,\nand shortly after came to London with 300 knights, well arrayed for both\npeace and war, leaving behind them a great army on the other side of the\nsea till they had consulted with King Arthur and his ministers how they\nmight best dispose of it.\nAnd Merlin being asked for his advice and help, agreed to go himself and\nfetch it over sea to England, which in one night he did; and brought\nwith him 10,000 horsemen and led them northward privately to the forest\nof Bedgraine, and there lodged them in a valley secretly.\nThen, by the counsel of Merlin, when they knew which way the eleven\nkings would ride and sleep, King Arthur with Kings Ban and Bors made\nthemselves ready with their army for the fight, having yet but 30,000\nmen, counting the 10,000 who had come from Gaul.\n\"Now shall ye do my advice,\" said Merlin; \"I would that King Ban and\nKing Bors, with all their fellowship of 10,000 men, were led to ambush\nin this wood ere daylight, and stir not therefrom until the battle hath\nbeen long waged. And thou, Lord Arthur, at the spring of day draw forth\nthine army before the enemy, and dress the battle so that they may at\nonce see all thy host, for they will be the more rash and hardy when\nthey see you have but 20,000 men.\"\nTo this the three knights and the barons heartily consented, and it was\ndone as Merlin had devised. So on the morrow when the hosts beheld each\nother, the host of the north was greatly cheered to find so few led out\nagainst them.\nThen gave King Arthur the command to Sir Ulfius and Sir Brastias to take\n3000 men-at-arms, and to open battle. They therefore setting fiercely on\nthe enemy slew them on the right hand and the left till it was wonderful\nto see their slaughter.\nWhen the eleven kings beheld so small a band doing such mighty deeds of\narms they were ashamed, and charged them fiercely in return. Then was\nSir Ulfius' horse slain under him; but he fought well and marvelously on\nfoot against Duke Eustace and King Clarience, who set upon him\ngrievously, till Sir Brastias, seeing his great peril, pricked towards\nthem swiftly, and so smote the duke through with his spear that horse\nand man fell down and rolled over. Whereat King Clarience turned upon\nSir Brastias, and rushing furiously together they each unhorsed the\nother and fell both to the ground, and there lay a long time stunned,\ntheir horses' knees being cut to the bone. Then came Sir Key the\nseneschal with six companions, and did wondrous well, till the eleven\nkings went out against them and overthrew Sir Griflet and Sir Lucas the\nbutler. And when Sir Key saw Sir Griflet unhorsed and on foot, he rode\nagainst King Nanters hotly and smote him down, and led his horse to\nGriflet and horsed him again; with the same spear did Sir Key smite down\nKing Lot and wounded him full sore.\nBut seeing that, the King of the Hundred Knights rushed at Sir Key and\noverthrew him in return, and took his horse and gave it to King Lot.\nAnd when Sir Griflet saw Sir Key's mischance, he set his spear in rest,\nand riding at a mighty man-at-arms, he cast him down headlong and caught\nhis horse and led it straightway to Sir Key.\nBy now the battle was growing perilous and hard, and both sides fought\nwith rage and fury. And Sir Ulfius and Sir Brastias were both afoot and\nin great danger of their death, and foully stained and trampled under\nhorses' feet. Then King Arthur, putting spurs to his horse, rushed\nforward like a lion into the midst of all the _m\u00eal\u00e8e_, and singling out\nKing Cradlemont of North Wales, smote him through the left side and\noverthrew him, and taking his horse by the rein he brought it to Sir\nUlfius in haste and said, \"Take this horse, mine old friend, for thou\nhast great need of one, and charge by side of me.\" And even as he spoke\nhe saw Sir Ector, Sir Key's father, smitten to the earth by the King of\nthe Hundred Knights, and his horse taken to King Cradlemont.\nBut when King Arthur saw him ride upon Sir Ector's horse his wrath was\nvery great, and with his sword he smote King Cradlemont upon the helm,\nand shore off the fourth part thereof and of the shield, and drave the\nsword onward to the horse's neck and slew the horse, and hurled the king\nupon the ground.\nAnd now the battle waxed so great and furious that all the noise and\nsound thereof rang out by water and by wood, so that Kings Ban and Bors,\nwith all their knights and men-at-arms in ambush, hearing the tumult\nand the cries, trembled and shook for eagerness, and scarce could stay\nin secret, but made them ready for the fray and dressed their shields\nand harness.\nBut when King Arthur saw the fury of the enemy, he raged like a mad\nlion, and stirred and drove his horse now here, now there, to the right\nhand and to the left and stayed not in his wrath till he had slain full\ntwenty knights. He wounded also King Lot so sorely in the shoulder that\nhe left the field, and in great pain and dolor cried out to the other\nkings, \"Do ye as I devise, or we shall be destroyed. I, with the King of\nthe Hundred Knights, King Anguisant, King Yder, and the Duke of\nCambinet, will take fifteen thousand men and make a circuit, meanwhile\nthat ye do hold the battle with twelve thousand. Then coming suddenly we\nwill fall fiercely on them from behind and put them to the rout, but\nelse shall we never stand against them.\"\nSo Lot and four kings departed with their party to one side, and the six\nother kings dressed their ranks against King Arthur and fought long and\nstoutly.\nBut now Kings Ban and Bors, with all their army fresh and eager, broke\nfrom their ambush and met face to face the five kings and their host as\nthey came round behind, and then began a frantic struggle with breaking\nof spears and clashing of swords and slaying of men and horses. Anon\nKing Lot, espying in the midst King Bors, cried out in great dismay,\n\"Our Lady now defend us from our death and fearful wounds; our peril\ngroweth great, for yonder cometh one of the worshipfullest kings and\nbest knights in all the world.\"\n\"Who is he?\" said the King of the Hundred Knights.\n\"It is King Bors of Gaul,\" replied King Lot, \"and much I marvel how he\nmay have come with all his host into this land without our knowledge.\"\n\"Aha!\" cried King Carados, \"I will encounter with this king if ye will\nrescue me when there is need.\"\n\"Ride on,\" said they.\nSo King Carados and all his host rode softly till they came within a\nbow-shot of King Bors, and then both hosts, spurring their horses to\ntheir greatest swiftness, rushed at each other. And King Bors\nencountered in the onset with a knight, and struck him through with a\nspear, so that he fell dead upon the earth; then drawing his sword, he\ndid such mighty feats of arms that all who saw him gazed with wonder.\nAnon King Ban came also forth upon the field with all his knights, and\nadded yet more fury, sound, and slaughter, till at length both hosts of\nthe eleven kings began to quake, and drawing all together into one body,\nthey prepared to meet the worst, while a great multitude already fled.\nThen said King Lot, \"Lords, we must take yet other means, or worse loss\nstill awaits us. See ye not what people we have lost in waiting on the\nfootmen, and that it costs ten horsemen to save one of them? Therefore\nit is my counsel to put away our footmen from us, for it is almost\nnight, and King Arthur will not stay to slaughter them. So they can save\ntheir lives in this great wood hard by. Then let us gather into one\nband all the horsemen that remain, and whoso breaketh rank or leaveth\nus, let him be straightway slain by him that seeth him, for it is better\nthat we slay a coward than through a coward be all slain. How say ye?\"\nsaid King Lot; \"answer me, all ye kings.\"\n\"It is well said,\" replied they all.\nAnd swearing they would never fail each other, they mended and set right\ntheir armor and their shields, and took new spears and set them\nsteadfastly against their thighs, waiting, and so stood still as a clump\nof trees stands on the plain; and no assaults could shake them, they\nheld so hard together; which when King Arthur saw he marveled greatly,\nand was very wroth. \"Yet,\" cried he, \"I may not blame them, by my faith,\nfor they do as brave men ought to do, and are the best fighting men and\nknights of most prowess that I ever saw or heard tell of.\" And so said\nalso Kings Ban and Bors, and praised them greatly for their noble\nchivalry.\nBut now came forty noble knights out of King Arthur's host, and prayed\nthat he would suffer them to break the enemy. And when they were\nallowed, they rode forth with their spears upon their thighs, and\nspurred their horses to their hottest. Then the eleven kings, with a\nparty of their knights, rushed with set spears as fast and mightily to\nmeet them; and when they were encountered, all the crash and splinter of\ntheir spears and armor rang with a mighty din, and so fierce and bloody\nwas their onset that in all that day there had been no such cruel press,\nand rage, and smiting. At that same moment rode fiercely into the\nthickest of the struggle King Arthur and Kings Ban and Bors, and slew\ndownright on both hands right and left, until their horses went in blood\nup to the fetlocks.\nAnd while the slaughter and the noise and shouting were at their\ngreatest, suddenly there came down through the battle Merlin the Wizard,\nupon a great black horse, and riding to King Arthur, he cried out,\n\"Alas, my Lord! will ye have never done? Of sixty thousand have ye left\nbut fifteen thousand men alive. Is it not time to stay this slaying? for\nGod is ill pleased with ye that ye have never ended, and yonder kings\nshall not be altogether overthrown this time. But if ye fall upon them\nany more, the fortune of this day will turn, and go to them. Withdraw,\nLord, therefore, to thy lodging, and there now take thy rest, for to-day\nthou hast won a great victory, and overcome the noblest chivalry of all\nthe world. And now for many years those kings shall not disturb thee.\nTherefore, I tell thee, fear them no more, for now they are sore beaten,\nand have nothing left them but their honor; and why shouldest thou slay\nthem to take that?\"\nThen said King Arthur, \"Thou sayest well, and I will take thy counsel.\"\nWith that he cried out, \"Ho!\" for the battle to cease, and sent forth\nheralds through the field to stay more fighting. And gathering all the\nspoil, he gave it not amongst his own host, but to Kings Ban and Bors\nand all their knights and men-at-arms, that he might treat them with the\ngreater courtesy as strangers.\nThen Merlin took his leave of Arthur and the two other kings, and went\nto see his master, Blaise, a holy hermit, dwelling in Northumberland,\nwho had nourished him through all his youth. And Blaise was passing glad\nto see him, for there was a great love ever between them; and Merlin\ntold him how King Arthur had sped in the battle, and how it had ended;\nand told him the names of every king and knight of worship who was\nthere. So Blaise wrote down the battle, word for word, as Merlin told\nhim; and in the same way ever after, all the battles of King Arthur's\ndays Merlin caused Blaise, his master, to record.\nIII\nARTHUR DRIVES THE SAXONS FROM HIS REALM\nAnon, thereafter, came word to King Arthur that Ryence, King of North\nWales, was making war upon King Leodegrance of Camelgard; whereat he was\npassing wroth, for he loved Leodegrance well, and hated Ryence. So he\ndeparted with Kings Ban and Bors and twenty thousand men, and came to\nCamelgard, and rescued Leodegrance, and slew ten thousand of Ryence's\nmen and put him to flight. Then Leodegrance made a great festival to the\nthree kings, and treated them with every manner of mirth and pleasure\nwhich could be devised. And there had King Arthur the first sight of\nGuinevere, daughter of Leodegrance, whom in the end he married, as shall\nbe told hereafter.\nThen did Kings Ban and Bors take leave, and went to their own country,\nwhere King Claudas worked great mischief. And King Arthur would have\ngone with them, but they refused him, saying, \"Nay, ye shall not at this\ntime, for ye have yet much to do in these lands of your own; and we with\nthe riches we have won here by your gifts shall hire many good knights,\nand, by the grace of God, withstand the malice of King Claudas; and if\nwe have need we will send to ye for succor; and likewise ye, if ye have\nneed, send for us, and we will not tarry, by the faith of our bodies.\"\nWhen the two kings had left, King Arthur rode to Caerleon, and thither\ncame to him his half-sister Belisent, wife to King Lot, sent as a\nmessenger, but in truth to espy his power; and with her came a noble\nretinue, and also her four sons--Gowain, Gaheris, Agravaine, and Gareth.\nBut when she saw King Arthur and his nobleness, and all the splendor of\nhis knights and service, she forebore to spy upon him as a foe, and told\nhim of her husband's plots against him and his throne. And the king, not\nknowing that she was his half-sister, made great court to her; and being\nfull of admiration for her beauty, loved her out of measure, and kept\nher a long season at Caerleon. Wherefore her husband, King Lot, was more\nthan ever King Arthur's enemy, and hated him till death with a passing\ngreat hatred.\nAt that time King Arthur had a marvelous dream, which gave him great\ndisquietness of heart. He dreamed that the whole land was full of many\nfiery griffins and serpents, which burnt and slew the people everywhere;\nand then that he himself fought with them, and that they did him mighty\ninjuries, and wounded him nigh to death, but that at last he overcame\nand slew them all. When he woke, he sat in great heaviness of spirit and\npensiveness, thinking what this dream might signify, but by-and-by, when\nhe could by no means satisfy himself what it might mean, to rid himself\nof all his thoughts of it, he made ready with a great company to ride\nout hunting.\nAs soon as he was in the forest, the king saw a great hart before him,\nand spurred his horse, and rode long eagerly after it, and chased until\nhis horse lost breath and fell down dead from under him. Then, seeing\nthe hart escaped and his horse dead, he sat down by a fountain, and fell\ninto deep thought again. And as he sat there alone, he thought he heard\nthe noise of hounds, as it were some thirty couple in number, and\nlooking up he saw coming towards him the strangest beast that ever he\nhad seen or heard tell of, which ran towards the fountain and drank of\nthe water. Its head was like a serpent's, with a leopard's body and a\nlion's tail, and it was footed like a stag; and the noise was in its\nbelly, as it were the baying or questing of thirty couple of hounds.\nWhile it drank there was no noise within it; but presently, having\nfinished, it departed with a greater sound than ever.\nThe king was amazed at all this; but being greatly wearied, he fell\nasleep, and was before long waked up by a knight on foot, who said,\n\"Knight, full of thought and sleepy, tell me if thou sawest a strange\nbeast pass this way?\"\n\"Such a one I saw,\" said King Arthur to the knight, \"but that is now two\nmiles distant at the least. What would you with that beast?\"\n\"Sir,\" said the knight, \"I have followed it for a long time, and have\nkilled my horse, and would to heaven I had another to pursue my quest\nwithal.\"\nAt that moment came a yeoman with another horse for the king, which,\nwhen the knight saw, he earnestly prayed to be given him. \"For I have\nfollowed this quest,\" said he, \"twelve months, and either I shall\nachieve him or bleed of the best blood of my body.\"\nIt was King Pellinore who at that time followed the questing beast, but\nneither he nor King Arthur knew each other.\n\"Sir Knight,\" said King Arthur, \"leave that quest and suffer me to have\nit, and I will follow it other twelve months.\"\n\"Ah, fool,\" said the knight, \"thy desire is utterly in vain, for it\nshall never be achieved but by me, or by my next of kin.\"\nTherewith he started to the king's horse, and mounted to the saddle,\ncrying out, \"Gramercy, this horse is mine!\"\n\"Well,\" said the king, \"thou mayest take my horse by force, and I will\nnot say nay; but till we prove whether thou or I be best on horseback, I\nshall not rest content.\"\n\"Seek me here,\" said the knight, \"whenever thou wilt, and here by this\nfountain thou shalt find me;\" and so he passed forth on his way.\nThen sat King Arthur in a deep fit of study, and bade his yeomen fetch\nhim yet another horse as quickly as they could. And when they left him\nall alone came Merlin, disguised as a child of fourteen years of age,\nand saluted the king, and asked him why he was so pensive and heavy.\n\"I may well be pensive and heavy,\" he replied, \"for here even now I have\nseen the strangest sight I ever saw.\"\n\"That know I well,\" said Merlin, \"as well as thyself, and also all thy\nthoughts; but thou art foolish to take thought, for it will not amend\nthee. Also I know what thou art, and know thy father and thy mother.\"\n\"That is false,\" said King Arthur; \"how shouldst thou know? thy years\nare not enough.\"\n\"Yea,\" said Merlin, \"but I know better than thou how thou wast born, and\nbetter than any man living.\"\n\"I will not believe thee,\" said King Arthur, and was wroth with the\nchild.\nSo Merlin departed, and came again in the likeness of an old man of\nfourscore years of age; and the king was glad at his coming, for he\nseemed wise and venerable. Then said the old man, \"Why art thou so sad?\"\n\"For divers reasons,\" said King Arthur; \"for I have seen strange things\nto-day, and but this moment there was here a child who told me things\nbeyond his years to know.\"\n\"Yea,\" said the old man, \"but he told thee truth, and more he would have\ntold thee hadst thou suffered him. But I will tell thee wherefore thou\nart sad, for thou hast done a thing of late for which God is displeased\nwith thee, and what it is thou knowest in thy heart, though no man else\nmay know.\"\n\"What are thou,\" said King Arthur, starting up all pale, \"that tellest\nme these tidings?\"\n\"I am Merlin,\" said he, \"and I was he in the child's likeness, also.\"\n\"Ah,\" said King Arthur, \"thou art a marvelous and right fearful man, and\nI would ask and tell thee many things this day.\"\nAs they talked came one with the king's horses, and so, King Arthur\nmounting one, and Merlin another, they rode together to Caerleon; and\nMerlin prophesied to Arthur of his death, and also foretold his own end.\nAnd now King Arthur, having utterly dispersed and overwhelmed those\nkings who had so long delayed his coronation, turned all his mind to\noverthrow the Saxon heathens who yet in many places spoiled the land.\nCalling together, therefore, his knights and men-at-arms, he rode with\nall his hosts to York, where Colgrin, the Saxon, lay with a great army;\nand there he fought a mighty battle, long and bloody, and drove him into\nthe city, and besieged him. Then Baldulph, Colgrin's brother, came\nsecretly with six thousand men to assail King Arthur and to raise the\nsiege. But King Arthur was aware of him, and sent six hundred horsemen\nand three thousand foot to meet and fall on him instead. This therefore\nthey did, encountering them at midnight, and utterly defeated them, till\nthey fled away for life. But Baldulph, full of grief, resolved to share\nhis brother's peril; wherefore he shaved his head and beard, and\ndisguised himself as a jester, and so passed through King Arthur's camp,\nsinging and playing on a harp, till by degrees he drew near to the city\nwalls, where presently he made himself known, and was drawn up by ropes\ninto the town.\nAnon, while Arthur closely watched the city, came news that full six\nhundred ships had landed countless swarms of Saxons, under Cheldric, on\nthe eastern coast. At that he raised the siege, and marched straight to\nLondon, and there increased his army, and took counsel with his barons\nhow to drive the Saxons from the land for evermore.\nThen with his nephew, Hoel, King of the Armorican Britons, who came with\na great force to help him, King Arthur, with a mighty multitude of\nbarons, knights, and fighting men, went swiftly up to Lincoln, which the\nSaxons lay besieging. And there he fought a passing fierce battle, and\nmade grievous slaughter, killing above six thousand men, till the main\nbody of them turned and fled. But he pursued them hotly into the wood of\nCelidon, where, sheltering themselves among the trees from his arrows,\nthey made a stand, and for a long season bravely defended themselves.\nAnon, he ordered all the trees in that part of the forest to be cut\ndown, leaving no shelter or ambush; and with their trunks and branches\nmade a mighty barricade, which shut them in and hindered their escape.\nAfter three days, brought nigh to death by famine, they offered to give\nup their wealth of gold and silver spoils, and to depart forthwith in\ntheir empty ships; moreover, to pay tribute to King Arthur when they\nreached their home, and to leave him hostages till all was paid.\nThis offer, therefore, he accepted, and suffered them to depart. But\nwhen they had been a few hours at sea, they repented of their shameful\nflight, and turned their ships back again, and landing at Totnes,\nravaged all the land as far as the Severn, and, burning and slaying on\nall sides, bent their steps towards Bath.\nWhen King Arthur heard of their treachery and their return, he burned\nwith anger till his eyes shone like two torches, and then he swore a\nmighty oath to rest no more until he had utterly destroyed those enemies\nof God and man, and had rooted them forever out of the land of Britain.\nThen marching hotly with his armies on to Bath, he cried aloud to them,\n\"Since these detestable and impious heathens disdain to keep their faith\nwith me, I, to keep faith with God, to whom I swear to cherish and\ndefend this realm, will now this day avenge on them the blood of all\nthat they have slain in Britain!\"\nIn like manner after him spoke the archbishop, standing upon a hill, and\ncrying that to-day they should fight both for their country and for\nParadise, \"For whoso,\" he said, \"shall in this holy war be slain, the\nangels shall forthwith receive him; for death in this cause shall be\npenance and absolution for all sins.\"\nAt these words every man in the whole army raged with hatred, and\npressed eagerly to rush upon those savages.\nAnon King Arthur, dressed in armor shining with gold and jewels, and\nwearing on his head a helmet with a golden dragon, took a shield painted\nwith the likeness of the blessed Mary. Then girding on Excalibur and\ntaking in his right hand his great lance Ron, he placed his men in order\nand led them out against the enemy, who stood for battle on the slope of\nBadon Hill, ranged in the form of a wedge, as their custom was. And\nthey, resisting all the onslaughts of King Arthur and his host, made\nthat day a stout defense, and at night lay down upon the hill.\nBut on the next day Arthur led his army once again to the attack, and\nwith wounds and slaughter such as no man had ever seen before, he drove\nthe heathen step by step before him, backwards and upwards, till he\nstood with all his noblest knights upon the summit of the hill.\nAnd then men saw him, \"red as the rising sun from spur to plume,\" lift\nup his sword, and, kneeling, kiss the cross of it; and after, rising to\nhis feet, set might and main with all his fellowship upon the foe, till,\nas a troop of lions roaring for their prey, they drove them like a\nscattered herd along the plains, and cut them down till they could cut\nno more for weariness.\nThat day King Arthur by himself alone slew with his sword Excalibur four\nhundred and seventy heathens. Colgrin also, and his brother Baldulph,\nwere slain.\nThen the king bade Cador, Duke of Cornwall, follow Cheldric, the chief\nleader, and the remnant of his hosts, unto the uttermost. He, therefore,\nwhen he had first seized their fleet, and filled it with chosen men, to\nbeat them back when they should fly to it at last, chased them and slew\nthem without mercy so long as he could overtake them. And though they\ncrept with trembling hearts for shelter to the coverts of the woods and\ndens of mountains, yet even so they found no safety, for Cador slew\nthem, even one by one. Last of all he caught and slew Cheldric himself,\nand slaughtering a great multitude took hostages for the surrender of\nthe rest.\nMeanwhile, King Arthur turned from Badon Hill, and freed his nephew Hoel\nfrom the Scots and Picts, who besieged him in Alculd. And when he had\ndefeated them in three sore battles, he drove them before him to a lake,\nwhich was one of the most wondrous lakes in all the world, for it was\nfed by sixty rivers, and had sixty islands, and sixty rocks, and on\nevery island sixty eagles' nests. But King Arthur with a great fleet\nsailed round the rivers and besieged them in the lake for fifteen days,\nso that many thousands died of hunger.\nAnon the King of Ireland came with an army to relieve them; but Arthur,\nturning on him fiercely, routed him, and compelled him to retreat in\nterror to his land. Then he pursued his purpose, which was no less than\nto destroy the race of Picts and Scots, who, beyond memory, had been a\nceaseless torment to the Britons by their barbarous malice.\nSo bitterly, therefore, did he treat them, giving quarter to none, that\nat length the bishops of that miserable country with the clergy met\ntogether, and, bearing all the holy relics, came barefooted to the king\nto pray his mercy for their people. As soon as they were led before him\nthey fell down upon their knees, and piteously besought him to spare the\nfew survivors of their countrymen, and grant them any corner of the\nland where they might live in peace. When he thus heard them, and knew\nthat he had now fully punished them, he consented to their prayer, and\nwithdrew his hosts from any further slaughter.\nThen turned he back to his own realm, and came to York for Christmas,\nand there with high solemnity observed that holy tide; and being passing\ngrieved to see the ruin of the churches and houses, which the rage of\nthe pagans had destroyed, he rebuilt them, and restored the city to its\nancient happy state.\nAnd on a certain day, as the king sat with his barons, there came into\nthe court a squire on horseback, carrying a knight before him wounded to\nthe death, and told the king that hard by in the forest was a knight who\nhad reared up a pavilion by the fountain, \"and hath slain my master, a\nvaliant knight, whose name was Nirles; wherefore I beseech thee, Lord,\nmy master may be buried, and that some good knight may avenge his\ndeath.\"\nAt that stepped forth a squire named Griflet, who was very young, being\nof the same age with King Arthur, and besought the king, for all the\nservice he had done, to give him knighthood.\n\"Thou art full young and tender of age,\" said King Arthur, \"to take so\nhigh an order upon thee.\"\n\"Sir,\" said Griflet, \"I beseech thee make me a knight;\" and Merlin also\nadvising the king to grant his request, \"Well,\" said Arthur, \"be it then\nso,\" and knighted him forthwith. Then said he to him, \"Since I have\ngranted thee this favor, thou must in turn grant me a gift.\"\n\"Whatsoever thou wilt, my lord,\" replied Sir Griflet.\n\"Promise me,\" said King Arthur, \"by the faith of thy body, that when\nthou hast jousted with this knight at the fountain, thou wilt return to\nme straightway, unless he slay thee.\"\n\"I promise,\" said Sir Griflet; and taking his horse in haste, he dressed\nhis shield, and took a spear in his hand and rode full gallop till he\ncame to the fountain, by the side of which he saw a rich pavilion, and a\ngreat horse standing well saddled and bridled, and on a tree close by\nthere hung a shield of many colors and a long lance.\nThen Sir Griflet smote upon the shield with the butt of his spear until\nhe cast it to the ground. At that a knight came out of the pavilion and\nsaid, \"Fair knight, why smote ye down my shield?\"\n\"Because,\" said Griflet, \"I would joust with thee.\"\n\"It were better not,\" replied the knight; \"for thou art young and but\nlately made a knight, and thy strength is small compared to mine.\"\n\"For all that,\" said Sir Griflet, \"I will joust with ye.\"\n\"I am full loth,\" replied the knight; \"but if I must I must.\"\nThen did they wheel their horses far apart, and running them together,\nthe strange knight shivered Sir Griflet's spear to fragments, and smote\nhim through the shield and the left side, and broke his own spear into\nSir Griflet's body, so that the truncheon stuck there, and Sir Griflet\nand his horse fell down. But when the strange knight saw him overthrown,\nhe was sore grieved, and hastily alighted, for he thought that he had\nslain him. Then he unlaced his helm and gave him air, and tended him\ncarefully till he come out of his swoon, and leaving the truncheon of\nhis spear in his body, he set him upon horse, and commended him to God,\nand said he had a mighty heart, and if he lived would prove a passing\ngood knight. And so Sir Griflet rode to the court, where, by aid of good\nphysicians, he was healed in time and his life saved.\nAt that same time there came before the king twelve old men, ambassadors\nfrom Lucius Tiberius, Emperor of Rome, and demanded of Arthur tribute\nunto C\u00e6sar for his realm, or else, said they, the emperor would destroy\nboth him and his land. To whom King Arthur answered that he owed the\nemperor no tribute, nor would send him any; but said he, \"On a fair\nfield I will pay him his proper tribute--with a sharp spear and sword;\nand by my father's soul that tribute shall he take from me, whether he\nwill or not.\" So the ambassadors departed passing wroth, and King Arthur\nwas as wroth as they.\nBut on the morrow of Sir Griflet's hurt, the king commanded to take his\nhorse and armor secretly outside the city walls before sunrise of the\nnext morning, and, rising a long while before dawn, he mounted up and\ntook his shield and spear, and bade his chamberlain tarry till he came\nagain; but he forbore to take Excalibur, for he had given it for safety\ninto charge of his sister, Queen Morgan le Fay. And as the king rode at\na soft pace he saw suddenly three villains chasing Merlin and making to\nattack and slay him. Clapping spurs to his horse, he rushed towards\nthem, and cried out in a terrible voice, \"Flee, churls, or take your\ndeaths;\" but they, as soon as they perceived a knight, fled away with\nthe haste of hares.\n\"O Merlin,\" said the king; \"here hadst thou been killed, despite thy\nmany crafts, had I not chanced to pass.\"\n\"Not so,\" said Merlin, \"for when I would, I could have saved myself; but\nthou art nearer to thy death than I, for without special help from\nheaven thou ridest now towards thy grave.\"\nAnd as they were thus talking, they came to the fountain and the rich\npavilion pitched beside it, and saw a knight sitting all armed on a\nchair in the opening of the tent. \"Sir knight,\" said King Arthur, \"for\nwhat cause abidest thou here? to joust with any knight that passeth by?\nIf so, I caution thee to quit that custom.\"\n\"That custom,\" said the knight, \"have I followed and will follow, let\nwhosoever will say nay, and if any is aggrieved at it, let him who will\namend it.\"\n\"I will amend it,\" said King Arthur.\n\"And I will defend it,\" answered the knight.\nThen the knight mounted his horse and made himself ready, and charging\nat each other they met so hard that both their lances splintered into\npieces. Then King Arthur drew his sword, but the knight cried out, \"Not\nso; but let us run another tilt together with sharp spears.\"\n\"I would with a good will,\" said King Arthur; \"but I have no more\nspears.\"\n\"I have enough of spears,\" replied the knight, and called a squire, who\nbrought two good new lances.\nThen spurring their horses, they rushed together with all their might,\nand broke each one his own spear short off in his hand. Then the king\nagain put his hand to his sword, but the knight once more cried out,\n\"Nay, yet abide awhile; ye are the best jouster that I ever met with;\nfor the love of knighthood, let us joust yet once again.\"\nSo once again they tilted with their fullest force, and this time King\nArthur's spear was shivered, but the knight's held whole, and drove so\nfuriously against the king that both his horse and he were hurled to the\nground.\nAt that, King Arthur was enraged and drew his sword and said, \"I will\nattack thee now, Sir knight, on foot, for on horseback I have lost the\nhonor.\"\n\"I will be on horseback,\" said the knight. But when he saw him come on\nfoot, he lighted from his horse, thinking it shame to have so great\nadvantage.\nAnd then began they a strong battle, with many great strokes and\ngrievous blows, and so hewed with their swords that the fragments of\ntheir armor flew about the fields, and both so bled that all the ground\naround was like a marsh of blood. Thus they fought long and mightily,\nand anon, after brief rest fell to again, and so hurtled together like\ntwo wild boars that they both rolled to the ground. At last their swords\nclashed furiously together, and the knight's sword shivered the king's\nin two.\nThen said the knight, \"Now art thou in my power, to save thee or to\nslay. Yield therefore as defeated, and a recreant knight, or thou shalt\nsurely die.\"\n\"As for death,\" replied King Arthur, \"welcome be it when it cometh; but\nas for yielding me to thee as a recreant because of this poor accident\nupon my sword, I had far liefer die than be so shamed.\"\nSo saying, he sprang on the knight, and took him by the middle and threw\nhim down, and tore off his helm. But the knight, being a huge man,\nwrestled and struggled in a frenzy with the king until he brought him\nunder, and tore off his helm in turn, and would have smitten off his\nhead.\nAt that came Merlin and said, \"Knight, hold thy hand, for if thou\nslayest yonder knight, thou puttest all this realm to greater loss and\ndamage than ever realm was in; for he is a man of greater worship than\nthou dreamest of.\"\n\"Who then is he?\" cried the knight.\nThen would he have slain him for dread of his wrath, but Merlin cast a\nspell upon the knight, so that he fell suddenly to the earth in a deep\nsleep. Then raising up the king, he took the knight's horse for himself\nand rode away.\n\"Alas,\" said King Arthur, \"what hast thou done, Merlin? hast thou slain\nthis good knight by thy crafts? There never lived a better knight; I had\nrather lose my kingdom for a year than have him dead.\"\n\"Be not afraid,\" said Merlin; \"he is more whole and sound than thou art,\nand is but in a sleep, wherefrom in three hours' time he will awake. I\ntold thee what a knight he was, and how near thou was to death. There\nliveth not a better knight than he in all the world, and hereafter he\nshall do thee good service. His name is King Pellinore, and he shall\nhave two sons, who shall be passing valiant men, and, save one another,\nshall have no equal in prowess and in purity of life. The one shall be\nnamed Percival, and the other Lamoracke of Wales.\"\nSo they rode on to Caerleon, and all the knights grieved greatly when\nthey heard of this adventure, that the king would jeopardize his person\nthus alone. Yet could they not hide their joy at serving under such a\nnoble chief, who adventured his own life as much as did the poorest\nknight among them all.\nIV\nTHE KING'S MANY AND GREAT ADVENTURES\nThe land of Britain being now in peace, and many great and valiant\nknights therein ready to take part in whatsoever battles or adventures\nmight arise, King Arthur resolved to follow all his enemies to their own\ncoasts. Anon he fitted out a great fleet, and sailing first to Ireland,\nin one battle he miserably routed the people of the country. The King of\nIreland also he took prisoner, and forced all earls and barons to pay\nhim homage.\nHaving conquered Ireland, he went next to Iceland and subdued it also,\nand the winter being then arrived, returned to Britain.\nIn the next year he set forth to Norway, whence many times the heathen\nhad descended on the British coasts; for he was determined to give so\nterrible a lesson to those savages as should be told through all their\ntribes both far and near, and make his name fearful to them.\nAs soon as he was come, Riculf, the king, with all the power of that\ncountry, met and gave him battle; but, after mighty slaughter, the\nBritons had at length the advantage, and slew Riculf and a countless\nmultitude besides.\nHaving thus defeated them, they set the cities on fire, dispersed the\ncountry people, and pursued the victory till they had reduced all\nNorway, as also Dacia, under the dominion of King Arthur.\nNow, therefore, having thus chastised those pagans who so long had\nharassed Britain, and put his yoke upon them, he voyaged on to Gaul,\nbeing steadfastly set upon defeating the Roman governor of that\nprovince, and so beginning to make good the threats which he had sent\nthe emperor by his ambassadors.\nSo soon as he was landed on the shores of Gaul, there came to him a\ncountryman who told him of a fearful giant in the land of Brittany, who\nhad slain, murdered, and devoured many people, and had lived for seven\nyears upon young children only, \"insomuch,\" said the man, \"that all the\nchildren of the country are destroyed; and but the other day he seized\nupon our duchess, as she rode out with her men, and took her away to his\nlodging in a cave of a mountain, and though five hundred people followed\nher, yet could they give her no help or rescue, but left her shrieking\nand crying lamentably in the giant's hands; and, Lord, she is thy cousin\nHoel's wife, who is of thy near kindred; wherefore, as thou art a\nrightful king, have pity on this lady; and as thou art a valiant\nconqueror, avenge us and deliver us.\"\n\"Alas!\" said King Arthur, \"this is a great mischief that ye tell of. I\nhad rather than the best realm I have, that I had rescued that lady ere\nthe giant laid his hand on her; but tell me now, good fellow, canst thou\nbring me where this giant haunteth?\"\n\"Yea, Lord!\" replied the man; \"lo, yonder, where thou seest two great\nfires, there shalt thou find him, and more treasure also than is in all\nGaul besides.\"\nThen the king returned to his tent, and, calling Sir Key and Sir Bedwin,\ndesired them to get horses ready for himself and them, for that after\nevensong he would ride a pilgrimage with them alone to St. Michael's\nMount. So in the evening they departed, and rode as fast as they could\ntill they came near the mount, and there alighted; and the king\ncommanded the two knights to await him at the hill foot, while he went\nup alone.\nThen he ascended the mountain till he came to a great fire. And there he\nfound a sorrowful widow wringing her hands and weeping miserably,\nsitting by a new-made grave. And saluting her, King Arthur prayed her\nwherefore she made such heavy lamentations.\n\"Sir knight,\" she said, \"speak softly, for yonder is a devil, who, if he\nhear thy voice, will come and straightway slay thee. Alas! what dost\nthou here? Fifty such men as thou were powerless to resist him. Here\nlieth dead my lady, Duchess of Brittany, wife to Sir Hoel, who was the\nfairest lady in the world, foully and shamefully slaughtered by that\nfiend! Beware that thou go not too nigh, for he hath overcome and\nvanquished fifteen kings, and hath made himself a coat of precious\nstones, embroidered with their beards; but if thou art so hardy, and\nwilt speak with him, at yonder great fire he is at supper.\"\n\"Well,\" said King Arthur, \"I will accomplish mine errand, for all thy\nfearful words;\" and so went forth to the crest of the hill, and saw\nwhere the giant sat at supper, gnawing on a limb of a man, and baking\nhis huge frame by the fire, while three damsels turned three spits,\nwhereon were spitted, like larks, twelve young children lately born.\nWhen King Arthur saw all that, his heart bled for sorrow, and he\ntrembled for rage and indignation; then lifting up his voice he cried\naloud--\"God, that wieldeth all the world, give thee short life and\nshameful death, and may the devil have thy soul! Why hast thou slain\nthose children and that fair lady! Wherefore arise, and prepare thee to\nperish, thou glutton and fiend, for this day thou shalt die by my\nhands.\"\nThen the giant, mad with fury at these words, started up, and seizing a\ngreat club, smote the king, and struck his crown from off his head. But\nKing Arthur smote him with his sword so mightily in return, that all his\nblood gushed forth in streams.\nAt that the giant, howling in great anguish, threw away his club of\niron, and caught the king in both his arms and strove to crush his ribs\ntogether. But King Arthur struggled and writhed, and twisted him about\nso that the giant could not hold him tightly; and as they fiercely\nwrestled, they both fell, and rolling over one another,\ntumbled--wrestling, and struggling, and fighting frantically--from rock\nto rock, till they came to the sea.\nAnd as they tore and strove and tumbled, the king ever and anon smote at\nthe giant with his dagger, till his arms stiffened in death around King\nArthur's body, and groaning horribly, he died. So presently the two\nknights came and found the king locked fast in the giant's arms, and\nvery faint and weary, and loosed him from their hold.\nThen the king bade Sir Key to \"smite off the giant's head, and set it on\nthe truncheon of a spear, and bear it to Sir Hoel, and tell him that his\nenemy is slain; and afterwards let it be fastened to the castle gate,\nthat all the people may behold it. And go ye two up on the mountain and\nfetch me my shield and sword, and also the great club of iron ye will\nsee there; and as for the treasure, ye shall find there wealth beyond\ncounting, but take as much as ye will, for I have his kirtle and the\nclub, I desire no more.\"\nThen the knights fetched the club and kirtle, as the king had ordered,\nand took the treasure to themselves, as much as they could carry, and\nreturned to the army. But when this deed was noised abroad, all the\npeople came in multitudes to thank the king, who told them \"to give\nthanks to God, and to divide the giant's spoils amongst them equally.\"\nAnd King Arthur desired Sir Hoel to build a church upon the mount, and\ndedicate it to the Archangel Michael.\nOn the morrow, all the host moved onwards into the country of Champagne,\nand Flollo, the Roman tribune, retired before them into Paris. But\nwhile he was preparing to collect more forces from the neighboring\ncountries, King Arthur came upon him unawares; and besieged him in the\ntown.\nAnd when a month had passed, Flollo--full of grief at the starvation of\nhis people, who died in hundreds day by day--sent to King Arthur, and\ndesired that they two might fight together; for he was a man of mighty\nstature and courage, and thought himself sure of the victory. This\nchallenge, King Arthur, full weary of the siege, accepted with great\njoy, and sent back word to Flollo that he would meet him whensoever he\nappointed.\nAnd a truce being made on both sides, they met together the next day on\nthe island without the city, where all the people also were gathered to\nsee the issue. And as the king and Flollo rode up to the lists, each was\nso nobly armed and horsed, and sat so mightily upon his saddle, that no\nman could tell which way the battle would end.\nWhen they had saluted one another, and presented themselves against each\nother with their lances aloft, they put spurs to their horses and began\na fierce encounter. But King Arthur, carrying his spear more warily,\nstruck it on the upper part of Flollo's breast, and flung him from his\nsaddle to the earth. Then drawing his sword, he cried to him to rise,\nand rushed upon him; but Flollo, starting up, met him with his spear\ncouched, and pierced the breast of King Arthur's horse, and overthrew\nboth horse and man.\nThe Britons, when they saw their king upon the ground, could scarcely\nkeep themselves from breaking up the truce and falling on the Gauls. But\nas they were about to burst the barriers, and rush upon the lists, King\nArthur hastily arose, and, guarding himself with his shield, ran with\nspeed on Flollo. And now they renewed the assault with great rage, being\nsorely bent upon each other's death.\nAt length, Flollo, seizing his advantage, gave King Arthur a huge stroke\nupon the helm, which nigh overthrew him, and drew forth his blood in\nstreams.\nBut when King Arthur saw his armor and shield all red with blood, he was\ninflamed with fury, and lifting up Excalibur on high, with all his\nmight, he struck straight through the helmet into Flollo's head, and\nsmote it into halves; and Flollo falling backwards, and tearing up the\nground with his spurs, expired.\nAs soon as this news spread, the citizens all ran together, and, opening\nthe gates, surrendered the city to the conqueror.\nAnd when he had overrun the whole province with his arms, and reduced it\neverywhere to subjection, he returned again to Britain, and held his\ncourt at Caerleon, with greater state than ever.\nAnon he invited thereto all the kings, dukes, earls, and barons, who\nowed him homage, that he might treat them royally, and reconcile them to\neach other, and to his rule.\nAnd never was there a city more fit and pleasant for such festivals. For\non one side it was washed by a noble river, so that the kings and\nprinces from the countries beyond sea might conveniently sail up to it;\nand on the other side, the beauty of the groves and meadows, and the\nstateliness and magnificence of the royal palaces, with lofty gilded\nroofs, made it even rival the grandeur of Rome. It was famous also for\ntwo great and noble churches, whereof one was built in honor of the\nmartyr Julius, and adorned with a choir of virgins who had devoted\nthemselves wholly to the service of God; and the other, founded in\nmemory of St. Aaron, his companion, maintained a convent of canons, and\nwas the third metropolitan church of Britain. Besides, there was a\ncollege of two hundred philosophers, learned in astronomy, and all the\nother sciences and arts.\nIn this place, therefore, full of such delights, King Arthur held his\ncourt, with many jousts and tournaments, and royal huntings, and rested\nfor a season after all his wars.\nAnd on a certain day there came into the court a messenger from Ryence,\nKing of North Wales, bearing this message from his master: That King\nRyence had discomfited eleven kings, and had compelled each one of them\nto cut off his beard; that he had trimmed a mantle with these beards,\nand lacked but one more beard to finish it; and that he therefore now\nsent for King Arthur's beard, which he required of him forthwith, or\nelse he would enter his lands and burn and slay, and never leave them\ntill he had taken by force not his beard only, but his head also.\nWhen King Arthur heard these words he flushed all scarlet, and rising in\ngreat anger said, \"Well it is for thee that thou speakest another man's\nwords with thy lips, and not thine own. Thou hast said thy message,\nwhich is the most insolent and villainous that ever man heard sent to\nany king: now hear my reply. My beard is yet too young to trim that\nmantle of thy master's with; yet, young although I be, I owe no homage\neither to him or any man--nor will ever owe. But, young although I be, I\nwill have thy master's homage upon both his knees before this year be\npast, or else he shall lose his head, by the faith of my body, for this\nmessage is the shamefullest I ever heard speak of. I see well thy king\nhath never yet met with a worshipful man; but tell him that King Arthur\nwill have his head or his worship right soon.\"\nThen the messenger departed, and Arthur, looking round upon his knights,\ndemanded of them if any there knew this King Ryence. \"Yea,\" answered Sir\nNoran, \"I know him well, and there be few better or stronger knights\nupon a field than he; and he is passing proud and haughty in his heart;\nwherefore I doubt not, Lord, he will make war on thee with mighty\npower.\"\n\"Well,\" said King Arthur, \"I shall be ready for him, and that shall he\nfind.\"\nWhile the king thus spoke, there came into the hall a damsel having on a\nmantle richly furred, which she let fall, and showed herself to be\ngirded with a noble sword. The king being surprised at this, said,\n\"Damsel, wherefore art thou girt with that sword, for it beseemeth thee\nnot?\" \"Sir,\" said she, \"I will tell thee. This sword wherewith I am thus\ngirt gives me great sorrow and encumbrance, for I may not be delivered\nfrom it till I find a knight faithful and pure and true, strong of body\nand of valiant deeds, without guile or treachery, who shall be able to\ndraw it from its scabbard, which no man else can do. And I have but just\nnow come from the court of King Ryence, for there they told me many\ngreat and good knights were to be ever found; but he and all his knights\nhave tried to draw it forth in vain--for none of them can move it.\"\n\"This is a great marvel,\" said King Arthur; \"I will myself try to draw\nforth this sword, not thinking in my heart that I am the best knight,\nbut rather to begin and give example that all may try after me.\" Saying\nthis, he took the sword and pulled at it with all his might, but could\nnot shake or move it.\n\"Thou needest not strive so hard, Lord,\" said the damsel, \"for whoever\nmay be able to pull it forth shall do so very easily.\"\n\"Thou sayest well,\" replied the king, remembering how he had himself\ndrawn forth the sword from the stone before St. Paul's. \"Now try ye, all\nmy barons; but beware ye be not stained with shame, or any treachery, or\nguile.\" And turning away his face from them, King Arthur mused full\nheavily on sins within his breast he knew of, and which his failure\nbrought to mind right sadly.\nThen all the barons present tried each after other, but could none of\nthem succeed; whereat the damsel greatly wept, and said, \"Alas, alas! I\nthought in this court to have found the best knight, without shame or\ntreachery or treason.\"\nNow by chance there was at that time a poor knight with King Arthur, who\nhad been prisoner at his court for half a year or more, charged with\nslaying unawares a knight who was a cousin of the king's. He was named\nBalin le Savage, and had been by the good offices of the barons\ndelivered from prison, for he was of good and valiant address and gentle\nblood. He being secretly present at the court saw this advantage, and\nfelt his heart rise high within him, and longed to try the sword as did\nthe others; but being poor and poorly clad, he was ashamed to come\nforward in the press of knights and nobles. But in his heart he felt\nassured that he could do better--if Heaven willed--than any knight among\nthem all.\nSo as the damsel left the king, he called to her and said, \"Damsel, I\npray thee of thy courtesy, suffer me to try the sword as well as all\nthese lords; for though I be but poorly clad, I feel assurance in my\nheart.\"\nThe damsel looked at him, saw in him a likely and an honest man, but\nbecause of his poor garments could not think him to be any knight of\nworship, and said, \"Sir, there is no need to put me to any more pain or\nlabor; why shouldst thou succeed where so many worthy ones have failed?\"\n\"Ah, fair lady,\" answered Balin, \"worthiness and brave deeds are not\nshown by fair raiment but manhood and truth lie hid within the heart.\nThere be many worshipful knights unknown to all the people.\"\n\"By my faith, thou sayest truth,\" replied the damsel; \"try therefore, if\nthou wilt, what thou canst do.\"\nSo Balin took the sword by the girdle and hilt, and drew it lightly out,\nand looking on its workmanship and brightness, it pleased him greatly.\nBut the king and all the barons marveled at Sir Balin's fortune, and\nmany knights were envious of him, for, \"Truly,\" said the damsel, \"this\nis a passing good knight, and the best man I have ever found, and the\nmost worshipfully free from treason, treachery, or villainy, and many\nwonders shall he achieve.\n\"Now, gentle and courteous knight,\" continued she, turning to Balin,\n\"give me the sword again.\"\n\"Nay,\" said Sir Balin, \"save it be taken from me by force, I shall\npreserve this sword for evermore.\"\n\"Thou art not wise,\" replied the damsel, \"to keep it from me; for if\nthou wilt do so, thou shall slay with it the best friend thou hast, and\nthe sword shall be thine own destruction also.\"\n\"I will take whatever adventure God may send,\" said Balin; \"but the\nsword will I keep, by the faith of my body.\"\n\"Thou will repent it shortly,\" said the damsel; \"I would take the sword\nfor thy sake rather than for mine, for I am passing grieved and heavy\nfor thy sake, who wilt not believe the peril I foretell thee.\" With that\nshe departed, making great lamentation.\nThen Balin sent for his horse and armor, and took his leave of King\nArthur, who urged him to stay at his court. \"For,\" said he, \"I believe\nthat thou art displeased that I showed thee unkindness; blame me not\novermuch, for I was misinformed against thee, and knew not truly what a\nknight of worship thou art. Abide in this court with my good knights,\nand I will so advance thee that thou shalt be well pleased.\"\n\"God thank thee, Lord,\" said Balin, \"for no man can reward thy bounty\nand thy nobleness; but at this time I must needs depart, praying thee\never to hold me in thy favor.\"\n\"Truly,\" said King Arthur, \"I am grieved for thy departure; but tarry\nnot long, and thou shalt be right welcome to me and all my knights when\nthou returnest, and I will repair my neglect and all that I have done\namiss against thee.\"\n\"God thank thee, Lord,\" again said Balin, and made ready to depart.\nBut meanwhile came into the court a lady upon horseback, full richly\ndressed, and saluted King Arthur, and asked him for the gift that he had\npromised her when she gave him his sword Excalibur, \"for,\" said she, \"I\nam the lady of the lake.\"\n\"Ask what thou wilt,\" said the king, \"and thou shalt have it, if I have\npower to give.\"\n\"I ask,\" said she, \"the head of that knight who hath just achieved the\nsword, or else the damsel's head who brought it, or else both; for the\nknight slew my brother, and the lady caused my father's death.\"\n\"Truly,\" said King Arthur, \"I cannot grant thee this desire; it were\nagainst my nature and against my name; but ask whatever else thou wilt,\nand I will do it.\"\n\"I will demand no other thing,\" said she.\nAnd as she spake came Balin, on his way to leave the court, and saw her\nwhere she stood, and knew her straightway for his mother's murderess,\nwhom he had sought in vain three years. And when they told him that she\nhad asked King Arthur for his head, he went up straight to her and said,\n\"May evil have thee! Thou desirest my head, therefore shalt thou lose\nthine\"; and with his sword he lightly smote her head off, in the\npresence of the king and all the court.\n\"Alas, for shame!\" cried out King Arthur, rising up in wrath; \"why hast\nthou done this, shaming both me and my court? I am beholden greatly to\nthis lady, and under my safe conduct came she here; thy deed is passing\nshameful; never shall I forgive thy villainy.\"\n\"Lord,\" cried Sir Balin, \"hear me; this lady was the falsest living, and\nby her witchcraft hath destroyed many, and caused my mother also to be\nburnt to death by her false arts and treachery.\"\n\"What cause soever thou mightest have had,\" said the king, \"thou\nshouldst have forborne her in my presence. Deceive not thyself, thou\nshalt repent this sin, for such a shame was never brought upon my court;\ndepart now from my face with all the haste thou mayest.\"\nThen Balin took up the head of the lady and carried it to his lodgings,\nand rode forth with his squire from out the town. Then said he, \"Now\nmust we part; take ye this head and bear it to my friends in\nNorthumberland, and tell them how I speed, and that our worst foe is\ndead; also tell them that I am free from prison, and of the adventure of\nmy sword.\"\n\"Alas!\" said the squire, \"ye are greatly to blame to have so displeased\nKing Arthur.\"\n\"As for that,\" said Sir Balin, \"I go now to find King Ryence, and\ndestroy him or lose my life; for should I take him prisoner, and lead\nhim to the court, perchance King Arthur would forgive me, and become my\ngood and gracious lord.\"\n\"Where shall I meet thee again?\" said the squire.\n\"In King Arthur's court,\" said Balin.\nV\nSIR BALIN FIGHTS WITH HIS BROTHER, SIR BALAN\nNow there was a knight at the court more envious than the others of Sir\nBalin, for he counted himself one of the best knights in Britain. His\nname was Lancear; and going to the king, he begged leave to follow after\nSir Balin and avenge the insult he had put upon the court. \"Do thy\nbest,\" replied the king, \"for I am passing wroth with Balin.\"\nIn the meantime came Merlin, and was told of this adventure of the sword\nand lady of the lake.\n\"Now hear me,\" said he, \"when I tell ye that this lady who hath brought\nthe sword is the falsest damsel living.\"\n\"Say not so,\" they answered, \"for she hath a brother a good knight, who\nslew another knight this damsel loved; so she, to be revenged upon her\nbrother, went to the Lady Lile, of Avilion, and besought her help. Then\nLady Lile gave her the sword, and told her that no man should draw it\nforth but one, a valiant knight and strong, who should avenge her on her\nbrother. This, therefore, was the reason why the damsel came here.\"\n\"I know it all as well as ye do,\" answered Merlin; \"and would to God\nshe had never come hither, for never came she into any company but to do\nharm; and that good knight who hath achieved the sword shall be himself\nslain by it, which shall be great harm and loss, for a better knight\nthere liveth not; and he shall do unto my lord the king great honor and\nservice.\"\nThen Sir Lancear, having armed himself at all points, mounted, and rode\nafter Sir Balin, as fast as he could go, and overtaking him, he cried\naloud, \"Abide, Sir knight! wait yet awhile, or I shall make thee do so.\"\nHearing him cry, Sir Balin fiercely turned his horse, and said, \"Fair\nknight, what wilt thou with me? wilt thou joust?\"\n\"Yea,\" said Sir Lancear, \"it is for that I have pursued thee.\"\n\"Peradventure,\" answered Balin, \"thou hadst best have stayed at home,\nfor many a man who thinketh himself already victor, endeth by his own\ndownfall. Of what court art thou?\"\n\"Of King Arthur's court,\" cried Lancear, \"and I am come to revenge the\ninsult thou hast put on it this day.\"\n\"Well,\" said Sir Balin, \"I see that I must fight thee, and I repent to\nbe obliged to grieve King Arthur or his knights; and thy quarrel seemeth\nfull foolish to me, for the damsel that is dead worked endless evils\nthrough the land, or else I had been loth as any knight that liveth to\nhave slain a lady.\"\n\"Make thee ready,\" shouted Lancear, \"for one of us shall rest forever in\nthis field.\"\nBut at their first encounter Sir Lancear's spear flew into splinters\nfrom Sir Balin's shield, and Sir Balin's lance pierced with such might\nthrough Sir Lancear's shield, that it rove the hauberk also, and passed\nthrough the knight's body and the horse's crupper. And Sir Balin turning\nfiercely round again, drew out his sword, and knew not that he had\nalready slain him; and then he saw him lie a corpse upon the ground.\nAt that same moment came a damsel riding towards him as fast as her\nhorse could gallop, who, when she saw Sir Lancear dead, wept and\nsorrowed out of measure, crying, \"O, Sir Balin, two bodies hast thou\nslain, and one heart; and two hearts in one body; and two souls also\nhast thou lost.\"\nTherewith she took the sword from her dead lover's side--for she was Sir\nLancear's lady-love--and setting the pommel of it on the ground, ran\nherself through the body with the blade.\nWhen Sir Balin saw her dead he was sorely hurt and grieved in spirit,\nand repented the death of Lancear, which had also caused so fair a\nlady's death. And being unable to look on their bodies for sorrow, he\nturned aside into a forest, where presently as he rode, he saw the arms\nof his brother, Sir Balan. And when they were met they put off their\nhelms, and embraced each other, kissing, and weeping for joy and pity.\nThen Sir Balin told Sir Balan all his late adventures, and that he was\non his way to King Ryence, who at that time was besieging Castle\nTerrabil. \"I will be with thee,\" answered Sir Balan, \"and we will help\neach other, as brethren ought to do.\"\nAnon by chance, as they were talking, came King Mark, of Cornwall, by\nthat way, and when he saw the two dead bodies of Sir Lancear and his\nlady lying there, and heard the story of their death, he vowed to build\na tomb to them before he left that place. So pitching his pavilion\nthere, he sought through all the country round to find a monument, and\nfound at last a rich and fair one in a church, which he took and raised\nabove the dead knight and his damsel, writing on it--\"Here lieth\nLancear, son of the King of Ireland, who, at his own request, was slain\nby Balin; and here beside him also lieth his lady Colombe, who slew\nherself with her lover's sword for grief and sorrow.\"\nThen as Sir Balin and Sir Balan rode away, Merlin met with them, and\nsaid to Balin, \"Thou hast done thyself great harm not to have saved that\nlady's life who slew herself; and because of it, thou shalt strike the\nmost Dolorous Stroke that ever man struck, save he that smote our Lord.\nFor thou shalt smite the truest and most worshipful of living knights,\nwho shall not be recovered from his wounds for many years, and through\nthat stroke three kingdoms shall be overwhelmed in poverty and misery.\"\n\"If I believed,\" said Balin, \"what thou sayest, I would slay myself to\nmake thee a liar.\"\nAt that Merlin vanished suddenly away; but afterwards he met them in\ndisguise towards night, and told them he could lead them to King\nRyence, whom they sought. \"For this night he is to ride with sixty\nlances only through a wood hard by.\"\nSo Sir Balin and Sir Balan hid themselves within the wood, and at\nmidnight came out from their ambush among the leaves by the highway, and\nwaited for the king, whom presently they heard approaching with his\ncompany. Then did they suddenly leap forth and smote at him and\noverthrew him and laid him on the ground, and turning on his company\nwounded and slew forty of them, and put the rest to flight. And\nreturning to King Ryence they would have slain him there, but he craved\nmercy, and yielded to their grace, crying, \"Knights full of prowess,\nslay me not; for by my life ye may win something--but my death can avail\nye nought.\"\n\"Ye say truth,\" said the two knights, and put him in a horse-litter, and\nwent swiftly through all the night, till at cock-crow they came to King\nArthur's palace. There they delivered him to the warders and porters, to\nbe brought before the king, with this message--\"That he was sent to King\nArthur by the knight of the two swords\" (for so was Balin known by name,\nsince his adventure with the damsel) \"and by his brother.\" And so they\nrode away again ere sunrise.\nWithin a month or two thereafter, King Arthur being somewhat sick, went\nforth outside the town, and had his pavilion pitched in a meadow, and\nthere abode, and laid him down on a pallet to sleep, but could get no\nrest. And as he lay he heard the sound of a great horse, and looking\nout of the tent door, saw a knight ride by, making great lamentation.\n\"Abide, fair sir,\" said King Arthur, \"and tell me wherefore thou makest\nthis sorrow.\"\n\"Ye may little amend it,\" said the knight, and so passed on.\nPresently after Sir Balin, rode, by chance, past that meadow, and when\nhe saw the king he alighted and came to him on foot, and kneeled and\nsaluted him.\n\"By my head,\" said King Arthur, \"ye be welcome, Sir Balin;\" and then he\nthanked him heartily for revenging him upon King Ryence, and for sending\nhim so speedily a prisoner to his castle, and told him how King Nero,\nRyence's brother, had attacked him afterwards to deliver Ryence from\nprison; and how he had defeated him and slain him, and also King Lot, of\nOrkney, who was joined with Nero, and whom King Pellinore had killed in\nthe battle. Then when they had thus talked, King Arthur told Sir Balin\nof the sullen knight that had just passed his tent, and desired him to\npursue him and to bring him back.\nSo Sir Balin rode and overtook the knight in a forest with a damsel, and\nsaid, \"Sir knight, thou must come back with me unto my lord, King\nArthur, to tell him the cause of thy sorrow, which thou hast refused\neven now to do.\"\n\"That will I not,\" replied the knight, \"for it would harm me much, and\ndo him no advantage.\"\n\"Sir,\" said Sir Balin, \"I pray thee make ready, for thou must needs go\nwith me--or else I must fight with thee and take thee by force.\"\n\"Wilt thou be warrant for safe conduct, if I go with thee?\" inquired the\nknight.\n\"Yea, surely,\" answered Balin, \"I will die else.\"\nSo the knight made ready to go with Sir Balin, and left the damsel in\nthe wood.\nBut as they went, there came one invisible, and smote the knight through\nthe body with a spear. \"Alas,\" cried Sir Herleus (for so was he named),\n\"I am slain under thy guard and conduct, by that traitor knight called\nGarlon, who through magic and witchcraft rideth invisibly. Take,\ntherefore, my horse, which is better than thine, and ride to the damsel\nwhom we left, and follow the quest I had in hand, as she will lead\nthee--and revenge my death when thou best mayest.\"\n\"That will I do,\" said Sir Balin, \"by my knighthood, and so I swear to\nthee.\"\nThen went Sir Balin to the damsel, and rode forth with her; she carrying\never with her the truncheon of the spear wherewith Sir Herleus had been\nslain. And as they went, a good knight, Perin de Mountbelgard, joined\ntheir company, and vowed to take adventure with them wheresoever they\nmight go. But presently as they passed a hermitage fast by a churchyard,\ncame the knight Garlon, again invisible, and smote Sir Perin through the\nbody with a spear, and slew him as he had slain Sir Herleus. Whereat,\nSir Balin greatly raged, and swore to have Sir Garlon's life, whenever\nnext he might encounter and behold him in his bodily shape. Anon, he\nand the hermit buried the good knight Sir Perin, and rode on with the\ndamsel till they came to a great castle, whereinto they were about to\nenter. But when Sir Balin had passed through the gateway, the portcullis\nfell behind him suddenly, leaving the damsel on the outer side, with men\naround her, drawing their swords as if to slay her.\nWhen he saw that, Sir Balin climbed with eager haste by wall and tower,\nand leaped into the castle moat, and rushed towards the damsel and her\nenemies, with his sword drawn, to fight and slay them. But they cried\nout, \"Put up thy sword, Sir knight, we will not fight thee in this\nquarrel, for we do nothing but an ancient custom of this castle.\"\nThen they told him that the lady of the castle was passing sick, and had\nlain ill for many years, and might never more be cured, unless she had a\nsilver dish full of the blood of a pure maid and a king's daughter.\nWherefore the custom of the castle was, that never should a damsel pass\nthat way but she must give a dish full of her blood. Then Sir Balin\nsuffered them to bleed the damsel with her own consent, but her blood\nhelped not the lady of the castle. So on the morrow they departed, after\nright good cheer and rest.\nThen they rode three or four days without adventure, and came at last to\nthe abode of a rich man, who sumptuously lodged and fed them. And while\nthey sat at supper Sir Balin heard a voice of some one groaning\ngrievously. \"What noise is this?\" said he.\n\"Forsooth,\" said the host, \"I will tell you. I was lately at a\ntournament, and there I fought a knight who is brother to King Pelles,\nand overthrew him twice, for which he swore to be revenged on me through\nmy best friend, and so he wounded my son, who cannot be recovered till I\nhave that knight's blood, but he rideth through witchcraft always\ninvisibly, and I know not his name.\"\n\"Ah,\" said Sir Balin, \"but I know him; his name is Garlon, and he hath\nslain two knights, companions of mine own, in the same fashion, and I\nwould rather than all the riches in this realm that I might meet him\nface to face.\"\n\"Well,\" said his host, \"let me now tell thee that King Pelles hath\nproclaimed in all the country a great festival, to be held at Listeniss,\nin twenty days from now, whereto no knight may come without a lady. At\nthat great feast we might perchance find out this Garlon, for many will\nbe there; and if it please thee we will set forth together.\"\nSo on the morrow they rode all three towards Listeniss, and traveled\nfifteen days, and reached it on the day the feast began. Then they\nalighted and stabled their horses, and went up to the castle, and Sir\nBalin's host was denied entrance, having no lady with him. But Sir Balin\nwas right heartily received, and taken to a chamber, where they unarmed\nhim, and dressed him in rich robes, of any color that he chose, and told\nhim he must lay aside his sword. This, however, he refused, and said,\n\"It is the custom of my country for a knight to keep his sword ever with\nhim; and if I may not keep it here, I will forthwith depart.\" Then they\ngave him leave to wear his sword. So he went to the great hall, and was\nset among knights of rank and worship, and his lady before him.\nSoon he found means to ask one who sat near him, \"Is there not here a\nknight whose name is Garlon?\"\n\"Yonder he goeth,\" said his neighbor, \"he with that black face; he is\nthe most marvelous knight alive, for he rideth invisibly, and destroyeth\nwhom he will.\"\n\"Ah, well,\" said Balin, drawing a long breath, \"is that indeed the man?\nI have aforetime heard of him.\"\nThen he mused long within himself, and thought, \"If I shall slay him\nhere and now, I shall not escape myself; but if I leave him,\nperadventure I shall never meet with him again at such advantage; and if\nhe live, how much more harm and mischief will he do!\"\nBut while he deeply thought, and cast his eyes from time to time upon\nSir Garlon, that false knight saw that he watched him, and thinking that\nhe could at such a time escape revenge, he came and smote Sir Balin on\nthe face with the back of his hand, and said, \"Knight, why dost thou so\nwatch me? be ashamed, and eat thy meat, and do that which thou camest\nfor.\"\n\"Thou sayest well,\" cried Sir Balin, rising fiercely; \"now will I\nstraightway do that which I came to do, as thou shalt find.\" With that\nhe whirled his sword aloft and struck him downright on the head, and\nclove his skull asunder to the shoulder.\n\"Give me the truncheon,\" cried out Sir Balin to his lady, \"wherewith he\nslew thy knight.\" And when she gave it him--for she had always carried\nit about with her, wherever she had gone--he smote him through the body\nwith it, and said, \"With that truncheon didst thou treacherously murder\na good knight, and now it sticketh in thy felon body.\"\nThen he called to the father of the wounded son, who had come with him\nto Listeniss, and said, \"Now take as much blood as thou wilt, to heal\nthy son withal.\"\nBut now arose a terrible confusion, and all the knights leaped from the\ntable to slay Balin, King Pelles himself the foremost, who cried out,\n\"Knight, thou hast slain my brother at my board; die, therefore, die,\nfor thou shalt never leave this castle.\"\n\"Slay me, thyself, then,\" shouted Balin.\n\"Yea,\" said the king, \"that will I! for no other man shall touch thee,\nfor the love I bear my brother.\"\nThen King Pelles caught in his hand a grim weapon and smote eagerly at\nBalin, but Balin put his sword between his head and the king's stroke,\nand saved himself but lost his sword, which fell down smashed and\nshivered into pieces by the blow. So being weaponless he ran to the next\nroom to find a sword, and so from room to room, with King Pelles after\nhim, he in vain ever eagerly casting his eyes round every place to find\nsome weapon.\nAt last he ran into a chamber wondrous richly decked, where was a bed\nall dressed with cloth of gold, the richest that could be thought of,\nand one who lay quite still within the bed; and by the bedside stood a\ntable of pure gold, borne on four silver pillars, and on the table\nstood a marvelous spear, strangely wrought.\nWhen Sir Balin saw the spear he seized it in his hand, and turned upon\nKing Pelles, and smote at him so fiercely and so sore that he dropped\nswooning to the ground.\nBut at that Dolorous and awful Stroke the castle rocked and rove\nthroughout, and all the walls fell crashed and breaking to the earth,\nand Balin himself fell also in their midst, struck as it were to stone,\nand powerless to move a hand or foot. And so three days he lay amidst\nthe ruins, until Merlin came and raised him up and brought him a good\nhorse, and bade him ride out of that land as swiftly as he could.\n\"May I not take the damsel with me I brought hither?\" said Sir Balin.\n\"Lo! where she lieth dead,\" said Merlin. \"Ah, little knowest thou, Sir\nBalin, what thou hast done; for in this castle and that chamber which\nthou didst defile, was the blood of our Lord Christ! and also that most\nholy cup--the Sangreal--wherefrom the wine was drunk at the last supper\nof our Lord. Joseph of Arimathea brought it to this land, when first he\ncame here to convert and save it. And on that bed of gold it was himself\nwho lay, and the strange spear beside him was the spear wherewith the\nsoldier Longus smote our Lord, which evermore had dripped with blood.\nKing Pelles is the nearest kin to Joseph in direct descent, wherefore he\nheld these holy things in trust; but now have they all gone at thy\ndolorous stroke, no man knoweth whither; and great is the damage to\nthis land, which until now hath been the happiest of all lands, for by\nthat stroke thou hast slain thousands, and by the loss and parting of\nthe Sangreal, the safety of this realm is put in peril, and its great\nhappiness is gone for evermore.\"\nThen Balin departed from Merlin, struck to his soul with grief and\nsorrow, and said, \"In this world shall we meet never more.\"\nSo he rode forth through the fair cities and the country, and found the\npeople lying dead on every side. And all the living cried out on him as\nhe passed, \"O Balin, all this misery hast thou done! For the dolorous\nstroke thou gavest King Pelles, three countries are destroyed, and doubt\nnot but revenge will fall on thee at last!\"\nWhen he had passed the boundary of those countries, he was somewhat\ncomforted, and rode eight days without adventure. Anon he came to a\ncross, whereon was written in letters of gold, \"It is not for a knight\nalone to ride towards this castle.\" Looking up, he saw a hoary ancient\nman come towards him, who said, \"Sir Balin le Savage, thou passest thy\nbounds this way; therefore turn back again, it will be best for thee;\"\nand with these words he vanished.\nThen did he hear a horn blow as it were the death-note of some hunted\nbeast. \"That blast,\" said Balin, \"is blown for me, for I am the prey;\nthough yet I be not dead.\" But as he spoke he saw a hundred ladies with\na great troop of knights come forth to meet him with bright faces and\ngreat welcome, who led him to the castle and made a great feast, with\ndancing and minstrelsy and all manner of joy.\nThen the chief lady of the castle said, \"Knight with the two swords,\nthou must encounter and fight with a knight hard by, who dwelleth on an\nisland, for no man may pass this way without encountering him.\"\n\"It is a grievous custom,\" answered Sir Balin.\n\"There is but one knight to defeat,\" replied the lady.\n\"Well,\" said Sir Balin, \"be it as thou wilt. I am ready and quite\nwilling, and though my horse and my body be full weary, yet is my heart\nnot weary, save of life. And truly I were glad if I might meet my\ndeath.\"\n\"Sir,\" said one standing by, \"methinketh your shield is not good; I will\nlend you a bigger.\"\n\"I thank thee, sir,\" said Balin, and took the unknown shield and left\nhis own, and so rode forth, and put himself and horse into a boat and\ncame to the island.\nAs soon as he had landed, he saw come riding towards him, a knight\ndressed all in red, upon a horse trapped in the same color. When the red\nknight saw Sir Balin, and the two swords he wore, he thought it must\nhave been his brother (for the red knight was Sir Balan), but when he\nsaw the strange arms on his shield, he forgot the thought, and came\nagainst him fiercely. At the first course they overthrew each other, and\nboth lay swooning on the ground; but Sir Balin was the most hurt and\nbruised, for he was weary and spent with traveling. So Sir Balan rose\nup first to his feet and drew his sword, and Sir Balin painfully rose\nagainst him and raised his shield. Then Sir Balan smote him through the\nshield and brake his helmet; and Sir Balin, in return, smote at him with\nhis fated sword, and had wellnigh slain his brother. And so they fought\ntill their breaths failed.\nThen Sir Balin, looking up, saw all the castle towers stand full of\nladies. So they went again to battle, and wounded each other full sore,\nand paused, and breathed again, and then again began the fight; and this\nfor many times they did, till all the ground was red with blood. And by\nnow, each had full grievously wounded the other with seven great wounds,\nthe least of which might have destroyed the mightiest giant in the\nworld. But still they rose against each other, although their hauberks\nnow were all unnailed, and they smiting at each other's naked bodies\nwith their sharp swords. At the last, Sir Balan, the younger brother,\nwithdrew a little space and laid him down.\nThen said Sir Balin le Savage, \"What knight art thou? for never before\nhave I found a knight to match me thus.\"\n\"My name,\" said he, all faintly, \"is Balan, brother to the good knight\nSir Balin.\"\n\"Ah, God!\" cried Balin, \"that ever I should see this day!\" and therewith\nfell down backwards in a swoon.\nThen Sir Balan crept with pain upon his feet and hands, and put his\nbrother's helmet off his head, but could not know him by his face, it\nwas so hewed and bloody. But presently, when Sir Balin came to, he\nsaid, \"Oh! Balan, mine own brother, thou hast slain me, and I thee! All\nthe wide world saw never greater grief!\"\n\"Alas!\" said Sir Balan, \"that I ever saw this day; and through mishap\nalone I knew thee not, for when I saw thy two swords, if it had not been\nfor thy strange shield, I should have known thee for my brother.\"\n\"Alas!\" said Balin, \"all this sorrow lieth at the door of one unhappy\nknight within the castle, who made me change my shield. If I might live,\nI would destroy that castle and its evil customs.\"\n\"It were well done,\" said Balan, \"for since I first came hither I have\nnever been able to depart, for here they made me fight with one who kept\nthis island, whom I slew, and by enchantment I might never quit it more;\nnor couldst thou, brother, hadst thou slain me, and escaped with thine\nown life.\"\nAnon came the lady of the castle, and when she heard their talk, and saw\ntheir evil case, she wrung her hands and wept bitterly. So Sir Balan\nprayed the lady of her gentleness that, for his true service, she would\nbury them both together in that place. This she granted, weeping full\nsore, and said it should be done right solemnly and richly, and in the\nnoblest manner possible. Then did they send for a priest, and received\nthe holy sacrament at his hands. And Balin said, \"Write over us upon our\ntomb, that here two brethren slew each other; then shall never good\nknight or pilgrim pass this way but he will pray for both our souls.\"\nAnd anon Sir Balan died, but Sir Balin died not till the midnight after;\nand then they both were buried.\nOn the morrow of their death came Merlin, and took Sir Balin's sword and\nfixed on it a new pommel, and set it in a mighty stone, which then, by\nmagic, he made float upon the water. And so, for many years, it floated\nto and fro around the island, till it swam down the river to Camelot,\nwhere young Sir Galahad achieved it, as shall be told hereafter.\nVI\nTHE MARRIAGE OF ARTHUR AND GUINEVERE AND THE FOUNDING OF THE ROUND TABLE\nIt befell upon a certain day, that King Arthur said to Merlin, \"My lords\nand knights do daily pray me now to take a wife; but I will have none\nwithout thy counsel, for thou hast ever helped me since I came first to\nthis crown.\"\n\"It is well,\" said Merlin, \"that thou shouldst take a wife, for no man\nof bounteous and noble nature should live without one; but is there any\nlady whom thou lovest better than another?\"\n\"Yea,\" said King Arthur, \"I love Guinevere, the daughter of King\nLeodegrance, of Camelgard, who also holdeth in his house the Round Table\nthat he had from my father Uther; and as I think, that damsel is the\ngentlest and the fairest lady living.\"\n\"Sir,\" answered Merlin, \"as for her beauty, she is one of the fairest\nthat do live; but if ye had not loved her as ye do, I would fain have\nhad ye choose some other who was both fair and good. But where a man's\nheart is set, he will be loth to leave.\" This Merlin said, knowing the\nmisery that should hereafter happen from this marriage.\nThen King Arthur sent word to King Leodegrance that he mightily desired\nto wed his daughter, and how that he had loved her since he saw her\nfirst, when with Kings Ban and Bors he rescued Leodegrance from King\nRyence of North Wales.\nWhen King Leodegrance heard the message, he cried out, \"These be the\nbest tidings I have heard in all my life--so great and worshipful a\nprince to seek my daughter for his wife! I would fain give him half my\nlands with her straightway, but that he needeth none--and better will it\nplease him that I send him the Round Table of King Uther, his father,\nwith a hundred good knights towards the furnishing of it with guests,\nfor he will soon find means to gather more, and make the table full.\"\nThen King Leodegrance delivered his daughter Guinevere to the messengers\nof King Arthur, and also the Round Table with the hundred knights.\nSo they rode royally and freshly, sometimes by water and sometimes by\nland, towards Camelot. And as they rode along in the spring weather,\nthey made full many sports and pastimes. And, in all those sports and\ngames, a young knight lately come to Arthur's, court, Sir Lancelot by\nname, was passing strong, and won praise from all, being full of grace\nand hardihood; and Guinevere also ever looked on him with joy. And\nalways in the eventide, when the tents were set beside some stream or\nforest, many minstrels came and sang before the knights and ladies as\nthey sat in the tent-doors, and many knights would tell adventures; and\nstill Sir Lancelot was foremost, and told the knightliest tales, and\nsang the goodliest songs, of all the company.\nAnd when they came to Camelot, King Arthur made great joy, and all the\ncity with him; and riding forth with a great retinue he met Guinevere\nand her company, and led her through the streets all filled with people,\nand in the midst of all their shoutings and the ringing of church bells,\nto a palace hard by his own.\nThen, in all haste, the king commanded to prepare the marriage and the\ncoronation with the stateliest and most honorable pomp that could be\nmade. And when the day was come, the archbishops led the king to the\ncathedral, whereto he walked, clad in his royal robes, and having four\nkings, bearing four golden swords, before him; a choir of passing sweet\nmusic going also with him.\nIn another part, was the queen dressed in her richest ornaments, and led\nby archbishops and bishops to the Chapel of the Virgins, the four queens\nalso of the four kings last mentioned walked before her, bearing four\nwhite doves, according to ancient custom; and after her there followed\nmany damsels, singing and making every sign of joy.\nAnd when the two processions were come to the churches, so wondrous was\nthe music and the singing, that all the knights and barons who were\nthere pressed on each other, as in the crowd of battle, to hear and see\nthe most they might.\nWhen the king was crowned, he called together all the knights that came\nwith the Round Table from Camelgard, and twenty-eight others, great and\nvaliant men, chosen by Merlin out of all the realm, towards making up\nthe full number of the table. Then the Archbishop of Canterbury blessed\nthe seats of all the knights, and when they rose again therefrom to pay\ntheir homage to King Arthur, there was found upon the back of each\nknight's seat his name, written in letters of gold. But upon one seat\nwas found written, \"This is the Siege Perilous, wherein if any man shall\nsit save him whom Heaven hath chosen, he shall be devoured by fire.\"\nAnon came young Gawain, the king's nephew, praying to be made a knight,\nwhom the king knighted then and there. Soon after came a poor man,\nleading with him a tall fair lad of eighteen years of age, riding on a\nlean mare. And falling at the king's feet, the poor man said, \"Lord, it\nwas told me, that at this time of thy marriage thou wouldst give to any\nman the gift he asked for, so it were not unreasonable.\"\n\"That is the truth,\" replied King Arthur, \"and I will make it good.\"\n\"Thou sayest graciously and nobly,\" said the poor man. \"Lord, I ask\nnothing else but that thou wilt make my son here a knight.\"\n\"It is a great thing that thou askest,\" said the king. \"What is thy\nname?\"\n\"Aries, the cowherd,\" answered he.\n\"Cometh this prayer from thee or from thy son?\" inquired King Arthur.\n\"Nay, lord, not from myself,\" said he, \"but from him only, for I have\nthirteen other sons, and all of them will fall to any labor that I put\nthem to. But this one will do no such work for anything that I or my\nwife may do, but is for ever shooting or fighting, and running to see\nknights and joustings, and torments me both night and day that he be\nmade a knight.\"\n\"What is thy name?\" said the king to the young man.\n\"My name is Tor,\" said he.\nThen the king, looking at him steadfastly, was well pleased with his\nface and figure, and with his look of nobleness and strength.\n\"Fetch all thy other sons before me,\" said the king to Aries. But when\nhe brought them, none of them resembled Tor in size or shape or feature.\nThen the king knighted Tor, saying, \"Be thou to thy life's end a good\nknight and a true, as I pray God thou mayest be; and if thou provest\nworthy, and of prowess, one day thou shalt be counted in the Round\nTable.\" Then turning to Merlin, Arthur said, \"Prophesy now, O Merlin,\nshall Sir Tor become a worthy knight, or not?\"\n\"Yea, lord,\" said Merlin, \"so he ought to be, for he is the son of that\nKing Pellinore whom thou hast met, and proved to be one of the best\nknights living. He is no cowherd's son.\"\nPresently after came in King Pellinore, and when he saw Sir Tor he knew\nhim for his son, and was more pleased than words can tell to find him\nknighted by the king. And Pellinore did homage to King Arthur, and was\ngladly and graciously accepted of the king; and then was led by Merlin\nto a high seat at the Table Round, near to the Perilous Seat.\nBut Sir Gawain was full of anger at the honor done King Pellinore, and\nsaid to his brother Gaheris, \"He slew our father, King Lot, therefore\nwill I slay him.\"\n\"Do it not yet,\" said he; \"wait till I also be a knight, then will I\nhelp ye in it: it is best ye suffer him to go at this time, and not\ntrouble this high feast with blood-shed.\"\n\"As ye will, be it,\" said Sir Gawain.\nThen rose the king and spake to all the Table Round, and charged them to\nbe ever true and noble knights, to do neither outrage nor murder, nor\nany unjust violence, and always to flee treason; also by no means ever\nto be cruel, but give mercy unto him that asked for mercy, upon pain of\nforfeiting the liberty of his court forevermore. Moreover, at all times,\non pain of death, to give all succor unto ladies and young damsels; and\nlastly, never to take part in any wrongful quarrel, for reward or\npayment. And to all this he swore them knight by knight.\nThen he ordained that, every year at Pentecost, they should all come\nbefore him, wheresoever he might appoint a place, and give account of\nall their doings and adventures of the past twelve-month. And so, with\nprayer and blessing, and high words of cheer, he instituted the most\nnoble order of the Round Table, whereto the best and bravest knights in\nall the world sought afterwards to find admission.\nThen was the high feast made ready, and the king and queen sat side by\nside, before the whole assembly; and great and royal was the banquet and\nthe pomp.\nAnd as they sat, each man in his place, Merlin went round and said, \"Sit\nstill awhile, for ye shall see a strange and marvelous adventure.\"\nSo as they sat, there suddenly came running through the hall, a white\nhart, with a white hound next after him, and thirty couple of black\nrunning hounds, making full cry; and the hart made circuit of the Table\nRound, and past the other tables; and suddenly the white hound flew upon\nhim and bit him fiercely, and tore out a piece from his haunch. Whereat\nthe hart sprang suddenly with a great leap, and overthrew a knight\nsitting at the table, who rose forthwith, and, taking up the hound,\nmounted, and rode fast away.\nBut no sooner had he left, than there came in a lady, mounted on a white\npalfrey, who cried out to the king, \"Lord, suffer me not to have this\ninjury!--the hound is mine which that knight taketh.\" And as she spake,\na knight rode in all armed, on a great horse, and suddenly took up the\nlady and rode away with her by force, although she greatly cried and\nmoaned.\nThen the king desired Sir Gawain, Sir Tor, and King Pellinore to mount\nand follow this adventure to the uttermost; and told Sir Gawain to bring\nback the hart, Sir Tor the hound and knight, and King Pellinore the\nknight and the lady.\nSo Sir Gawain rode forth at a swift pace, and with him Gaheris, his\nbrother, for a squire. And as they went, they saw two knights fighting\non horseback, and when they reached them they divided them and asked the\nreason of their quarrel. \"We fight for a foolish matter,\" one replied,\n\"for we be brethren; but there came by a white hart this way, chased by\nmany hounds, and thinking it was an adventure for the high feast of King\nArthur, I would have followed it to have gained worship; whereat my\nyounger brother here declared he was the better knight and would go\nafter it instead, and so we fight to prove which of us be the better\nknight.\"\n\"This is a foolish thing,\" said Sir Gawain. \"Fight with all strangers,\nif ye will, but not brother with brother. Take my advice, set on against\nme, and if ye yield to me, as I shall do my best to make ye, ye shall go\nto King Arthur and yield ye to his grace.\"\n\"Sir knight,\" replied the brothers, \"we are weary, and will do thy wish\nwithout encountering thee; but by whom shall we tell the king that we\nwere sent?\"\n\"By the knight that followeth the quest of the white hart,\" said Sir\nGawain. \"And now tell me your names, and let us part.\"\n\"Sorlous and Brian of the Forest,\" they replied; and so they went their\nway to the king's court.\nThen Sir Gawain, still following his quest by the distant baying of the\nhounds, came to a great river, and saw the hart swimming over and near\nto the further bank. And as he was about to plunge in and swim after, he\nsaw a knight upon the other side, who cried, \"Come not over here, Sir\nknight, after that hart, save thou wilt joust with me.\"\n\"I will not fail for that,\" said Sir Gawain; and swam his horse across\nthe stream.\nAnon they got their spears, and ran against each other fiercely; and Sir\nGawain smote the stranger off his horse, and turning, bade him yield.\n\"Nay,\" replied he, \"not so; for though ye have the better of me on\nhorseback, I pray thee, valiant knight, alight, and let us match\ntogether with our swords on foot.\"\n\"What is thy name?\" quoth Gawain.\n\"Allardin of the Isles,\" replied the stranger.\nThen they fell on each other; but soon Sir Gawain struck him through the\nhelm, so deeply and so hard, that all his brains were scattered, and Sir\nAllardin fell dead. \"Ah,\" said Gaheris, \"that was a mighty stroke for a\nyoung knight!\"\nThen did they turn again to follow the white hart, and let slip three\ncouple of greyhounds after him; and at the last they chased him to a\ncastle, and there they overtook and slew him, in the chief courtyard.\nAt that there rushed a knight forth from a chamber, with a drawn sword\nin his hand, and slew two of the hounds before their eyes, and chased\nthe others from the castle, crying, \"Oh, my white hart! alas, that thou\nart dead! for thee my sovereign lady gave to me, and evil have I kept\nthee; but if I live, thy death shall be dear bought.\" Anon he went\nwithin and armed, and came out fiercely, and met Sir Gawain face to\nface.\n\"Why have ye slain my hounds?\" said Sir Gawain; \"they did but after\ntheir nature: and ye had better have taken vengeance on me than on the\npoor dumb beasts.\"\n\"I will avenge me on thee, also,\" said the other, \"ere thou depart this\nplace.\"\nThen did they fight with each other savagely and madly, till the blood\nran down to their feet. But at last Sir Gawain had the better, and\nfelled the knight of the castle to the ground. Then he cried out for\nmercy, and yielded to Sir Gawain, and besought him as he was a knight\nand gentleman to save his life. \"Thou shalt die,\" said Sir Gawain, \"for\nslaying my hounds.\"\n\"I will make thee all amends within my power,\" replied the knight.\nBut Sir Gawain would have no mercy, and unlaced his helm to strike his\nhead off; and so blind was he with rage, that he saw not where a lady\nran out from her chamber and fell down upon his enemy. And making a\nfierce blow at him, he smote off by mischance the lady's head.\n\"Alas!\" cried Gaheris, \"foully and shamefully have ye done--the shame\nshall never leave ye! Why give ye not your mercy unto them that ask it?\na knight without mercy is without worship also.\"\nThen Sir Gawain was sore amazed at that fair lady's death, and knew not\nwhat to do, and said to the fallen knight, \"Arise, for I will give thee\nmercy.\"\n\"Nay, nay,\" said he, \"I care not for thy mercy now, for thou hast slain\nmy lady and my love--that of all earthly things I loved the best.\"\n\"I repent me sorely of it,\" said Sir Gawain, \"for I meant to have struck\nthee: but now shalt thou go to King Arthur and tell him this adventure,\nand how thou hast been overcome by the knight that followeth the quest\nof the white hart.\"\n\"I care not whether I live or die, or where I go,\" replied the knight.\nSo Sir Gawain sent him to the court to Camelot, making him bear one dead\ngreyhound before and one behind him on his horse. \"Tell me thy name\nbefore we part,\" said he.\n\"My name is Athmore of the Marsh,\" he answered.\nThen went Sir Gawain into the castle, and prepared to sleep there and\nbegan to unarm; but Gaheris upbraided him, saying, \"Will ye disarm in\nthis strange country? bethink ye, ye must needs have many enemies\nabout.\"\nNo sooner had he spoken than there came out suddenly four knights, well\narmed, and assailed them hard, saying to Sir Gawain, \"Thou new-made\nknight, how hast thou shamed thy knighthood! a knight without mercy is\ndishonored! Slayer of fair ladies, shame to thee evermore! Doubt not\nthou shalt thyself have need of mercy ere we leave thee.\"\nThen were the brothers in great jeopardy, and feared for their lives,\nfor they were but two to four, and weary with traveling; and one of the\nfour knights shot Sir Gawain with a bolt, and hit him through the arm,\nso that he could fight no more. But when there was nothing left for them\nbut death, there came four ladies forth and prayed the four knights'\nmercy for the strangers. So they gave Sir Gawain and Gaheris their\nlives, and made them yield themselves prisoners.\nOn the morrow, came one of the ladies to Sir Gawain, and talked with\nhim, saying, \"Sir knight, what cheer?\"\n\"Not good,\" said he.\n\"It is your own default, sir,\" said the lady, \"for ye have done a\npassing foul deed in slaying that fair damsel yesterday--and ever shall\nit be great shame to you. But ye be not of King Arthur's kin.\"\n\"Yea, truly am I,\" said he; \"my name is Gawain, son of King Lot of\nOrkney, whom King Pellinore slew--and my mother, Belisent, is\nhalf-sister to the king.\"\nWhen the lady heard that, she went and presently got leave for him to\nquit the castle; and they gave him the head of the white hart to take\nwith him, because it was in his quest; but made him also carry the dead\nlady with him--her head hung round his neck and her body lay before him\non his horse's neck.\nSo in that fashion he rode back to Camelot; and when the king and queen\nsaw him, and heard tell of his adventures, they were heavily displeased,\nand, by order of the queen, he was put upon his trial before a court of\nladies--who judged him to be evermore, for all his life, the knight of\nladies' quarrels, and to fight always on their side, and never against\nany, except he fought for one lady and his adversary for another; also\nthey charged him never to refuse mercy to him that asked it, and swore\nhim to it on the Holy Gospels. Thus ended the adventure of the white\nhart.\nMeanwhile, Sir Tor had made him ready, and followed the knight who rode\naway with the hound. And as he went, there suddenly met him in the road\na dwarf, who struck his horse so viciously upon the head with a great\nstaff, that he leaped backwards a spear's length.\n\"Wherefore so smitest thou my horse, foul dwarf?\" shouted Sir Tor.\n\"Because thou shalt not pass this way,\" replied the dwarf, \"unless thou\nfight for it with yonder knights in those pavilions,\" pointing to two\ntents, where two great spears stood out, and two shields hung upon two\ntrees hard by.\n\"I may not tarry, for I am on a quest I needs must follow,\" said Sir\nTor.\n\"Thou shalt not pass,\" replied the dwarf, and therewith blew his horn.\nThen rode out quickly at Sir Tor one armed on horseback, but Sir Tor was\nquick as he, and riding at him bore him from his horse, and made him\nyield. Directly after came another still more fiercely, but with a few\ngreat strokes and buffets Sir Tor unhorsed him also, and sent them both\nto Camelot to King Arthur. Then came the dwarf and begged Sir Tor to\ntake him in his service, \"for,\" said he, \"I will serve no more recreant\nknights.\"\n\"Take then a horse, and come with me,\" said Tor.\n\"Ride ye after the knight with the white hound?\" said the dwarf; \"I can\nsoon bring ye where he is.\"\nSo they rode through the forest till they came to two more tents. And\nSir Tor alighting, went into the first, and saw three damsels lie there,\nsleeping. Then went he to the other, and found another lady also\nsleeping, and at her feet the white hound he sought for, which instantly\nbegan to bay and bark so loudly, that the lady woke. But Sir Tor had\nseized the hound and given it to the dwarf's charge.\n\"What will ye do, Sir knight?\" cried out the lady; \"will ye take away my\nhound from me by force?\"\n\"Yea, lady,\" said Sir Tor; \"for so I must, having the king's command;\nand I have followed it from King Arthur's court, at Camelot, to this\nplace.\"\n\"Well,\" said the lady, \"ye will not go far before ye be ill handled, and\nwill repent ye of the quest.\"\n\"I shall cheerfully abide whatsoever adventure cometh, by the grace of\nGod,\" said Sir Tor; and so mounted his horse and began to ride back on\nhis way. But night coming on, he turned aside to a hermitage that was in\nthe forest, and there abode till the next day, making but sorrowful\ncheer of such poor food as the hermit had to give him, and hearing a\nMass devoutly before he left on the morrow.\nAnd in the early morning, as he rode forth with the dwarf towards\nCamelot, he heard a knight call loudly after him, \"Turn, turn! Abide,\nSir knight, and yield me up the hound thou tookest from my lady.\" At\nwhich he turned, and saw a great and strong knight, armed full\nsplendidly, riding down upon him fiercely through a glade of the forest.\nNow Sir Tor was very ill provided, for he had but an old courser, which\nwas as weak as himself, because of the hermit's scanty fare. He waited,\nnevertheless, for the strange knight to come, and at the first onset\nwith their spears, each unhorsed the other, and then fell to with their\nswords like two mad lions. Then did they smite through one another's\nshields and helmets till the fragments flew on all sides, and their\nblood ran out in streams; but yet they carved and rove through the thick\narmor of the hauberks, and gave each other great and ghastly wounds. But\nin the end, Sir Tor, finding the strange knight faint, doubled his\nstrokes until he beat him to the earth. Then did he bid him yield to his\nmercy.\n\"That will I not,\" replied Abellius, \"while my life lasteth and my soul\nis in my body, unless thou give me first the hound.\"\n\"I cannot,\" said Sir Tor, \"and will not, for it was my quest to bring\nagain that hound and thee unto King Arthur, or otherwise to slay thee.\"\nWith that there came a damsel riding on a palfrey, as fast as she could\ndrive, and cried out to Sir Tor with a loud voice, \"I pray thee, for\nKing Arthur's love, give me a gift.\"\n\"Ask,\" said Sir Tor, \"and I will give thee.\"\n\"Gramercy,\" said the lady, \"I ask the head of this false knight\nAbellius, the most outrageous murderer that liveth.\"\n\"I repent me of the gift I promised,\" said Sir Tor. \"Let him make thee\namends for all his trespasses against thee.\"\n\"He cannot make amends,\" replied the damsel, \"for he hath slain my\nbrother, a far better knight than he, and scorned to give him mercy,\nthough I kneeled for half an hour before him in the mire, to beg it, and\nthough it was but by a chance they fought, and for no former injury or\nquarrel. I require my gift of thee as a true knight, or else will I\nshame thee in King Arthur's court; for this Abellius is the falsest\nknight alive, and a murderer of many.\"\nWhen Abellius heard this, he trembled greatly, and was sore afraid, and\nyielded to Sir Tor, and prayed his mercy.\n\"I cannot now, Sir knight,\" said he, \"lest I be false to my promise. Ye\nwould not take my mercy when I offered it; and now it is too late.\"\nTherewith he unlaced his helmet, and took it off; but Abellius, in\ndismal fear, struggled to his feet, and fled, until Sir Tor overtook\nhim, and smote off his head entirely with one blow.\n\"Now, sir,\" said the damsel, \"it is near night, I pray ye come and lodge\nat my castle hard by.\"\n\"I will, with a good will,\" said he, for both his horse and he had fared\nbut poorly since they left Camelot.\nSo he went to the lady's castle and fared sumptuously, and saw her\nhusband, an old knight, who greatly thanked him for his service, and\nurged him oftentimes to come again.\nOn the morrow he departed, and reached Camelot by noon, where the king\nand queen rejoiced to see him, and the king made him Earl; and Merlin\nprophesied that these adventures were but little to the things he should\nachieve hereafter.\nNow while Sir Gawain and Sir Tor had fulfilled their quests, King\nPellinore pursued the lady whom the knight had seized away from the\nwedding-feast. And as he rode through the woods, he saw in a valley a\nfair young damsel sitting by a well-side, and a wounded knight lying in\nher arms, and King Pellinore saluted her as he passed by.\nAs soon as she perceived him she cried out, \"Help, help me, knight, for\nour Lord's sake!\" But Pellinore was far too eager in his quest to stay\nor turn, although she cried a hundred times to him for help; at which\nshe prayed to heaven he might have such sore need before he died as she\nhad now. And presently thereafter her knight died in her arms; and she,\nfor grief and love, slew herself with his sword.\nBut King Pellinore rode on till he met a poor man, and asked him had he\nseen a knight pass by that way, leading by force a lady with him.\n\"Yea, surely,\" said the man, \"and greatly did she moan and cry; but even\nnow another knight is fighting with him to deliver the lady; ride on and\nthou shalt find them fighting still.\"\nAt that King Pellinore rode swiftly on, and came to where he saw the two\nknights fighting, hard by where two pavilions stood. And when he looked\nin one of them, he saw the lady that was his quest, and with her the two\nsquires of the two knights who fought.\n\"Fair lady,\" said he, \"ye must come with me unto King Arthur's court.\"\n\"Sir knight,\" said the two squires, \"yonder be two knights fighting for\nthis lady; go part them, and get their consent to take her, ere thou\ntouch her.\"\n\"Ye say well,\" said King Pellinore, and rode between the combatants, and\nasked them why they fought.\n\"Sir knight,\" said the one, \"yon lady is my cousin, mine aunt's\ndaughter, whom I met borne away against her will, by this knight here,\nwith whom I therefore fight to free her.\"\n\"Sir knight,\" replied the other, whose name was Hantzlake of Wentland,\n\"this lady got I, by my arms and prowess, at King Arthur's court\nto-day.\"\n\"That is false,\" said King Pellinore; \"ye stole the lady suddenly, and\nfled away with her, before any knight could arm to stay thee. But it is\nmy service to take her back again. Neither of ye shall therefore have\nher; but if ye will fight for her, fight with me now and here.\"\n\"Well,\" said the knights, \"make ready, and we will assail thee with all\nour might.\"\nThen Sir Hantzlake ran King Pellinore's horse through with his sword, so\nthat they might be all alike on foot. But King Pellinore at that was\npassing wroth, and ran upon Sir Hantzlake, with a cry, \"Keep well thy\nhead!\" and gave him such a stroke upon the helm as clove him to the\nchin, so that he fell dead to the ground. When he saw that, the other\nknight refused to fight, and kneeling down said, \"Take my cousin the\nlady with thee, as thy quest is; but as thou art a true knight, suffer\nher to come to neither shame nor harm.\"\nSo the next day King Pellinore departed for Camelot, and took the lady\nwith him; and as they rode in a valley full of rough stones, the\ndamsel's horse stumbled and threw her, so that her arms were sorely\nbruised and hurt. And as they rested in the forest for the pain to\nlessen, night came on, and there they were compelled to make their\nlodging. A little before midnight they heard the trotting of a horse.\n\"Be ye still,\" said King Pellinore, \"for now we may hear of some\nadventure,\" and therewith he armed her. Then he heard two knights meet\nand salute each other, in the dark; one riding from Camelot, the other\nfrom the north.\n\"What tidings at Camelot?\" said one.\n\"By my head,\" said the other, \"I have but just left there, and have\nespied King Arthur's court, and such a fellowship is there as never may\nbe broke or overcome; for wellnigh all the chivalry of the world is\nthere, and all full loyal to the king, and now I ride back homewards to\nthe north to tell our chiefs, that they waste not their strength in wars\nagainst him.\"\n\"As for all that,\" replied the other knight, \"I am but now from the\nnorth, and bear with me a remedy, the deadliest poison that ever was\nheard tell of, and to Camelot will I with it; for there we have a friend\nclose to the king, and greatly cherished of him, who hath received gifts\nfrom us to poison him, as he hath promised soon to do.\"\n\"Beware,\" said the first knight, \"of Merlin, for he knoweth all things,\nby the devil's craft.\"\n\"I will not fear for that,\" replied the other, and so rode on his way.\nAnon King Pellinore and the lady passed on again; and when they came to\nthe well at which the lady with the wounded knight had sat, they found\nboth knight and damsel utterly devoured by lions and wild beasts, all\nsave the lady's head.\nWhen King Pellinore saw that, he wept bitterly, saying, \"Alas! I might\nhave saved her life had I but tarried a few moments in my quest.\"\n\"Wherefore make so much sorrow now?\" said the lady.\n\"I know not,\" answered he, \"but my heart grieveth greatly for this poor\nlady's death, so fair she was and young.\"\nThen he required a hermit to bury the remains of the bodies, and bare\nthe lady's head with him to Camelot, to the court.\nWhen he was arrived, he was sworn to tell the truth of his quest before\nthe King and Queen, and when he had entered the Queen somewhat upbraided\nhim, saying, \"Ye were much to blame that ye saved not that lady's life.\"\n\"Madam,\" said he, \"I shall repent it all my life.\"\n\"Ay, king,\" quoth Merlin, who suddenly came in, \"and so ye ought to do,\nfor that lady was your daughter, not seen since infancy by thee. And she\nwas on her way to court, with a right good young knight, who would have\nbeen her husband, but was slain by treachery of a felon knight, Lorraine\nle Savage, as they came; and because thou wouldst not abide and help\nher, thy best friend shall fail thee in thine hour of greatest need, for\nsuch is the penance ordained thee for that deed.\"\nThen did King Pellinore tell Merlin secretly of the treason he had heard\nin the forest, and Merlin by his craft so ordered that the knight who\nbare the poison was himself soon after slain by it, and so King Arthur's\nlife was saved.\nVII\nTHE ADVENTURE OF ARTHUR AND SIR ACCOLON OF GAUL\nBeing now happily married, King Arthur for a season took his pleasure,\nwith great tournaments, and jousts, and huntings. So once upon a time\nthe king and many of his knights rode hunting in a forest, and Arthur,\nKing Urience, and Sir Accolon of Gaul, followed after a great hart, and\nbeing all three well mounted, they chased so fast that they outsped\ntheir company, and left them many miles behind; but riding still as\nrapidly as they could go, at length their horses fell dead under them.\nThen being all three on foot, and seeing the stag not far before them,\nvery weary and nigh spent--\"What shall we do,\" said King Arthur, \"for we\nare hard bested?\" \"Let us go on afoot,\" said King Urience, \"till we can\nfind some lodging.\" At that they saw the stag lying upon the bank of a\ngreat lake, with a hound springing at his throat, and many other hounds\ntrooping towards him. So, running forward, Arthur blew the death-note on\nhis horn, and slew the hart. Then lifting up his eyes he saw before him\non the lake a barge, all draped down to the water's edge, with silken\nfolds and curtains, which swiftly came towards him, and touched upon\nthe sands; but when he went up close and looked in, he saw no earthly\ncreature. Then he cried out to his companions, \"Sirs, come ye hither,\nand let us see what there is in this ship.\" So they all three went in,\nand found it everywhere throughout furnished, and hung with rich\ndraperies of silk and gold.\nBy this time eventide had come, when suddenly a hundred torches were set\nup on all sides of the barge, and gave a dazzling light, and at the same\ntime came forth twelve fair damsels, and saluted King Arthur by his\nname, kneeling on their knees, and telling him that he was welcome, and\nshould have their noblest cheer, for which the king thanked them\ncourteously. Then did they lead him and his fellows to a splendid\nchamber, where was a table spread with all the richest furniture, and\ncostliest wines and viands; and there they served them with all kinds of\nwines and meats, till Arthur wondered at the splendor of the feast,\ndeclaring he had never in his life supped better, or more royally. After\nsupper they led him to another chamber, than which he had never beheld a\nricher, where he was left to rest. King Urience, also, and Sir Accolon\nwere each conducted into rooms of like magnificence. And so they all\nthree fell asleep, and being very weary slept deeply all that night.\nBut when the morning broke, King Urience found himself in his own house\nin Camelot, he knew not how; and Arthur awaking found himself in a dark\ndungeon, and heard around him nothing but the groans of woeful knights,\nprisoners like himself. Then said King Arthur, \"Who are ye, thus\ngroaning and complaining?\" And some one answered him, \"Alas, we be all\nprisoners, even twenty good knights, and some of us have lain here seven\nyears--some more--nor seen the light of day for all that time.\" \"For\nwhat cause?\" said King Arthur. \"Know ye not then yourself?\" they\nanswered--\"we will soon tell you. The lord of this strong castle is Sir\nDamas, and is the falsest and most traitorous knight that liveth; and he\nhath a younger brother, a good and noble knight, whose name is Outzlake.\nThis traitor Damas, although passing rich, will give his brother nothing\nof his wealth, and save what Outzlake keepeth to himself by force, he\nhath no share of the inheritance. He owneth, nevertheless, one fair rich\nmanor, whereupon he liveth, loved of all men far and near. But Damas is\nas altogether hated as his brother is beloved, for he is merciless and\ncowardly: and now for many years there hath been war between these\nbrothers, and Sir Outzlake evermore defieth Damas to come forth and\nfight with him, body to body, for the inheritance; and if he be too\ncowardly, to find some champion knight that will fight for him. And\nDamas hath agreed to find some champion, but never yet hath found a\nknight to take his evil cause in hand, or wager battle for him. So with\na strong band of men-at-arms he lieth ever in ambush, and taketh captive\nevery passing knight who may unwarily go near and bringeth him into this\ncastle, and desireth him either to fight Sir Outzlake, or to lie for\nevermore indurance. And thus hath he dealt with all of us, for we all\nscorned to take up such a cause for such a false foul knight--but rather\none by one came here, where many a good knight hath died of hunger and\ndisease. But if one of us would fight, Sir Damas would deliver all the\nrest.\"\n\"God of his mercy send you deliverance,\" said King Arthur, and sat\nturning in his mind how all these things should end, and how he might\nhimself gain freedom for so many noble hearts.\nAnon there came a damsel to the king, saying, \"Sir, if thou wilt fight\nfor my lord thou shalt be delivered out of prison, but else nevermore\nshalt thou escape with thy life.\" \"Nay,\" said King Arthur, \"that is but\na hard choice, yet had I rather fight than die in prison, and if I may\ndeliver not myself alone, but all these others, I will do the battle.\"\n\"Yea,\" said the damsel, \"it shall be even so.\" \"Then,\" said King Arthur,\n\"I am ready now, if but I had a horse and armor.\" \"Fear not,\" said she,\n\"that shalt thou have presently, and shalt lack nothing proper for the\nfight.\" \"Have I not seen thee,\" said the king, \"at King Arthur's court?\nfor it seemeth that thy face is known to me.\" \"Nay,\" said the damsel, \"I\nwas never there; I am Sir Damas' daughter, and have never been but a\nday's journey from this castle.\" But she spoke falsely, for she was one\nof the damsels of Morgan le Fay, the great enchantress, who was King\nArthur's half-sister.\nWhen Sir Damas knew that there had been at length a knight found who\nwould fight for him, he sent for Arthur, and finding him a man so tall\nand strong, and straight of limb, he was passingly well pleased, and\nmade a covenant with him, that he should fight unto the uttermost for\nhis cause, and that all the other knights should be delivered. And when\nthey were sworn to each other on the Holy Gospels, all those imprisoned\nknights were straightway led forth and delivered, but abode there one\nand all to see the battle.\nIn the meanwhile there had happened to Sir Accolon of Gaul a strange\nadventure; for when he awoke from his deep sleep upon the silken barge,\nhe found himself upon the edge of a deep well, and in instant peril of\nfalling thereinto. Whereat, leaping up in great affright, he crossed\nhimself and cried aloud, \"May God preserve my lord King Arthur and King\nUrience, for those damsels in the ship have betrayed us, and were\ndoubtless devils and no women; and if I may escape this misadventure, I\nwill certainly destroy them wheresoever I may find them.\" With that\nthere came to him a dwarf with a great mouth, and a flat nose, and\nsaluted him, saying that he came from Queen Morgan le Fay. \"And she\ngreeteth you well,\" said he, \"and biddeth you be strong of heart, for\nto-morrow you shall do battle with a strange knight, and therefore she\nhath sent you here Excalibur, King Arthur's sword, and the scabbard\nlikewise. And she desireth you as you do love her to fight this battle\nto the uttermost, and without any mercy, as you have promised her you\nwould fight when she should require it of you; and she will make a rich\nqueen forever of any damsel that shall bring her that knight's head\nwith whom you are to fight.\"\n\"Well,\" said Sir Accolon, \"tell you my lady Queen Morgan, that I shall\nhold to that I promised her, now that I have this sword--and,\" said he,\n\"I suppose it was to bring about this battle that she made all these\nenchantments by her craft.\" \"You have guessed rightly,\" said the dwarf,\nand therewithal he left him.\nThen came a knight and lady, and six squires, to Sir Accolon, and took\nhim to a manor house hard by, and gave him noble cheer; and the house\nbelonged to Sir Outzlake, the brother of Sir Damas, for so had Morgan le\nFay contrived with her enchantments. Now Sir Outzlake himself was at\nthat time sorely wounded and disabled, having been pierced through both\nhis thighs by a spear-thrust. When, therefore, Sir Damas sent down\nmessengers to his brother, bidding him make ready by to-morrow morning,\nand be in the field to fight with a good knight, for that he had found a\nchampion ready to do battle at all points, Sir Outzlake was sorely\nannoyed and distressed, for he knew he had small chance of victory,\nwhile yet he was disabled by his wounds; notwithstanding, he determined\nto take the battle in hand, although he was so weak that he must needs\nbe lifted to his saddle. But when Sir Accolon of Gaul heard this, he\nsent a message to Sir Outzlake offering to take the battle in his stead,\nwhich cheered Sir Outzlake mightily, who thanked Sir Accolon with all\nhis heart, and joyfully accepted him.\nSo, on the morrow, King Arthur was armed and well horsed, and asked Sir\nDamas, \"When shall we go to the field?\" \"Sir,\" said Sir Damas, \"you\nshall first hear mass.\" And when mass was done, there came a squire on a\ngreat horse, and asked Sir Damas if his knight were ready, \"for our\nknight is already in the field.\" Then King Arthur mounted on horseback,\nand there around were all the knights, and barons, and people of the\ncountry; and twelve of them were chosen to wait upon the two knights who\nwere about to fight. And as King Arthur sat on horseback, there came a\ndamsel from Morgan le Fay, and brought to him a sword, made like\nExcalibur, and a scabbard also, and said to him, \"Morgan le Fay sendeth\nyou here your sword for her great love's sake.\" And the king thanked\nher, and believed it to be as she said; but she traitorously deceived\nhim, for both sword and scabbard were counterfeit, brittle, and false,\nand the true sword Excalibur was in the hands of Sir Accolon. Then, at\nthe sound of a trumpet, the champions set themselves on opposite side of\nthe field, and giving rein and spur to their horses urged them to so\ngreat a speed that each smiting the other in the middle of the shield,\nrolled his opponent to the ground, both horse and man. Then starting up\nimmediately, both drew their swords and rushed swiftly together. And so\nthey fell to eagerly, and gave each other many great and mighty strokes.\nAnd as they were thus fighting, the damsel Vivien, lady of the lake, who\nloved King Arthur, came upon the ground, for she knew by her\nenchantments how Morgan le Fay had craftily devised to have King Arthur\nslain by his own sword that day, and therefore came to save his life.\nAnd Arthur and Sir Accolon were now grown hot against each other, and\nspared not strength nor fury in their fierce assaults; but the king's\nsword gave way continually before Sir Accolon's, so that at every stroke\nhe was sore wounded, and his blood ran from him so fast that it was a\nmarvel he could stand. When King Arthur saw the ground so sore\nbe-blooded, he bethought him in dismay that there was magic treason\nworked upon him, and that his own true sword was changed, for it seemed\nto him that the sword in Sir Accolon's hand was Excalibur, for fearfully\nit drew his blood at every blow, while what he held himself kept no\nsharp edge, nor fell with any force upon his foe.\n\"Now, knight, look to thyself, and keep thee well from me,\" cried out\nSir Accolon. But King Arthur answered not, and gave him such a buffet on\nthe helm as made him stagger and nigh fall upon the ground. Then Sir\nAccolon withdrew a little, and came on with Excalibur on high, and smote\nKing Arthur in return with such a mighty stroke as almost felled him;\nand both being now in hottest wrath, they gave each other grievous and\nsavage blows. But Arthur all the time was losing so much blood that\nscarcely could he keep upon his feet, yet so full was he of knighthood,\nthat knightly he endured the pain, and still sustained himself, though\nnow he was so feeble that he thought himself about to die. Sir Accolon,\nas yet, had lost no drop of blood, and being very bold and confident in\nExcalibur, even grew more vigorous and hasty in his assaults. But all\nmen who beheld them said they never saw a knight fight half so well as\ndid King Arthur, and all the people were so grieved for him that they\nbesought Sir Damas and Sir Outzlake to make up their quarrel and so stay\nthe fight; but they would not.\nSo still the battle raged, till Arthur drew a little back for breath and\na few moments' rest; but Accolon came on after him, following fiercely\nand crying loud, \"It is no time for me to suffer thee to rest,\" and\ntherewith set upon him. Then Arthur, full of scorn and rage, lifted up\nhis sword and struck Sir Accolon upon the helm so mightily that he drove\nhim to his knees; but with the force of that great stroke his brittle,\ntreacherous sword broke short off at the hilt, and fell down in the\ngrass among the blood, leaving the pommel only in his hand. At that,\nKing Arthur thought within himself that all was over, and secretly\nprepared his mind for death, yet kept himself so knightly sheltered by\nhis shield that he lost no ground, and made as though he yet had hope\nand cheer. Then said Sir Accolon, \"Sir knight, thou now art overcome and\ncanst endure no longer, seeing thou art weaponless, and hast lost\nalready so much blood. Yet am I fully loth to slay thee; yield, then,\ntherefore, to me as recreant.\" \"Nay,\" said King Arthur, \"that may I not,\nfor I have promised to do battle to the uttermost by the faith of my\nbody while my life lasteth; and I had rather die with honor than live\nwith shame; and if it were possible for me to die an hundred times, I\nhad rather die as often than yield me to thee, for though I lack\nweapons, I shall lack no worship, and it shall be to thy shame to slay\nme weaponless.\" \"Aha,\" shouted then Sir Accolon, \"as for the shame, I\nwill not spare; look to thyself, sir knight, for thou art even now but a\ndead man.\" Therewith he drove at him with pitiless force, and struck him\nnearly down; but Arthur evermore waxing in valor as he waned in blood,\npressed on Sir Accolon with his shield, and hit at him so fiercely with\nthe pommel in his hand, as hurled him three strides backward.\nThis, therefore, so confused Sir Accolon, that rushing up, all dizzy, to\ndeliver once again a furious blow, even as he struck, Excalibur, by\nVivien's magic, fell from out his hands upon the earth. Beholding which,\nKing Arthur lightly sprang to it, and grasped it, and forthwith felt it\nwas his own good sword, and said to it, \"Thou hast been from me all too\nlong, and done me too much damage.\" Then spying the scabbard hanging by\nSir Accolon's side, he sprang and pulled it from him, and cast it away\nas far as he could throw it; for so long as he had worn it, Arthur knew\nhis life would have been kept secure. \"Oh, knight!\" then said the king,\n\"thou hast this day wrought me much damage by this sword, but now art\nthou come to thy death, for I shall not warrant thee but that thou shalt\nsuffer, ere we part, somewhat of that thou hast made me suffer.\" And\ntherewithal King Arthur flew at him with all his might, and pulled him\nto the earth, and then struck off his helm, and gave him on the head a\nfearful buffet, till the blood leaped forth. \"Now will I slay thee!\"\ncried King Arthur; for his heart was hardened, and his body all on fire\nwith fever, till for a moment he forgot his knightly mercy. \"Slay me\nthou mayest,\" said Sir Accolon, \"for thou art the best knight I ever\nfound, and I see well that God is with thee; and I, as thou hast, have\npromised to fight this battle to the uttermost, and never to be recreant\nwhile I live; therefore shall I never yield me with my mouth, and God\nmust do with my body what he will.\" And as Sir Accolon spoke, King\nArthur thought he knew his voice; and parting all his blood-stained hair\nfrom out his eyes, and leaning down towards him, saw, indeed, it was his\nfriend and own true knight. Then said he--keeping his own visor down--\"I\npray thee tell me of what country art thou, and what court?\" \"Sir\nknight,\" he answered, \"I am of King Arthur's court, and my name is Sir\nAccolon of Gaul.\" Then said the king, \"Oh, sir knight! I pray thee tell\nme who gave thee this sword? and from whom thou hadst it?\"\nThen said Sir Accolon, \"Woe worth this sword, for by it I have gotten my\ndeath. This sword hath been in my keeping now for almost twelve months,\nand yesterday Queen Morgan le Fay, wife of King Urience, sent it to me\nby a dwarf, that therewith I might in some way slay her brother, King\nArthur; for thou must understand that King Arthur is the man she hateth\nmost in all the world, being full of envy and jealousy because he is of\ngreater worship and renown than any other of her blood. She loveth me\nalso as much as she doth hate him; and if she might contrive to slay\nKing Arthur by her craft and magic, then would she straightway kill her\nhusband also, and make me the king of all this land, and herself my\nqueen, to reign with me; but now,\" said he, \"all that is over, for this\nday I am come to my death.\"\n\"It would have been sore treason of thee to destroy thy lord,\" said\nArthur. \"Thou sayest truly,\" answered he; \"but now that I have told\nthee, and openly confessed to thee all that foul treason whereof I now\ndo bitterly repent, tell me, I pray thee, whence art thou, and of what\ncourt?\" \"O, Sir Accolon!\" said King Arthur, \"learn that I am myself King\nArthur.\" When Sir Accolon heard this he cried aloud, \"Alas, my gracious\nlord! have mercy on me, for I knew thee not.\" \"Thou shalt have mercy,\"\nsaid he, \"for thou knewest not my person at this time; and though by\nthine own confession thou art a traitor, yet do I blame thee less,\nbecause thou hast been blinded by the false crafts of my sister Morgan\nle Fay, whom I have trusted more than all others of my kin, and whom I\nnow shall know well how to punish.\" Then did Sir Accolon cry loudly, \"O,\nlords, and all good people! this noble knight that I have fought with is\nthe noblest and most worshipful in all the world; for it is King Arthur,\nour liege lord and sovereign king; and full sorely I repent that I have\never lifted lance against him, though in ignorance I did it.\"\nThen all the people fell down on their knees and prayed the pardon of\nthe king for suffering him to come to such a strait. But he replied,\n\"Pardon ye cannot have, for, truly, ye have nothing sinned; but here ye\nsee what ill adventure may ofttimes befall knights-errant, for to my own\nhurt, and his danger also, I have fought with one of my own knights.\"\nThen the king commanded Sir Damas to surrender to his brother the whole\nmanor, Sir Outzlake only yielding him a palfrey every year; \"for,\" said\nhe scornfully, \"it would become thee better to ride on than a courser;\"\nand ordered Damas, upon pain of death, never again to touch or to\ndistress knights-errant riding on their adventures; and also to make\nfull compensation and satisfaction to the twenty knights whom he had\nheld in prison. \"And if any of them,\" said the king, \"come to my court\ncomplaining that he hath not had full satisfaction of thee for his\ninjuries, by my head, thou shalt die therefor.\"\nAfterwards, King Arthur asked Sir Outzlake to come with him to his\ncourt, where he should become a knight of his, and, if his deeds were\nnoble, be advanced to all he might desire.\nSo then he took his leave of all the people and mounted upon horseback,\nand Sir Accolon went with him to an abbey hard by, where both their\nwounds were dressed. But Sir Accolon died within four days after. And\nwhen he was dead, the king sent his body to Queen Morgan, to Camelot,\nsaying that he sent her a present in return for the sword Excalibur\nwhich she had sent him by the damsel.\nSo, on the morrow, there came a damsel from Queen Morgan to the king,\nand brought with her the richest mantle that ever was seen, for it was\nset as full of precious stones as they could stand against each other,\nand they were the richest stones that ever the king saw. And the damsel\nsaid, \"Your sister sendeth you this mantle, and prayeth you to take her\ngift, and in whatsoever thing she hath offended you, she will amend it\nat your pleasure.\" To this the king replied not, although the mantle\npleased him much. With that came in the lady of the lake, and said,\n\"Sir, put not on this mantle till thou hast seen more; and in nowise let\nit be put upon thee, or any of thy knights, till ye have made the\nbringer of it first put it on her.\" \"It shall be done as thou dost\ncounsel,\" said the king. Then said he to the damsel that came from his\nsister, \"Damsel, I would see this mantle ye have brought me upon\nyourself.\" \"Sir,\" said she, \"it will not beseem me to wear a knight's\ngarment.\" \"By my head,\" said King Arthur, \"thou shalt wear it ere it go\non any other person's back!\" And so they put it on her by force, and\nforthwith the garment burst into a flame and burned the damsel into\ncinders. When the king saw that, he hated that false witch Morgan le Fay\nwith all his heart, and evermore was deadly quarrel between her and\nArthur to their lives' end.\nVIII\nARTHUR IS CROWNED EMPEROR AT ROME\nAnd now again the second time there came ambassadors from Lucius\nTiberius, Emperor of Rome, demanding, under pain of war, tribute and\nhomage from King Arthur, and the restoration of all Gaul, which he had\nconquered from the tribune Flollo.\nWhen they had delivered their message, the king bade them withdraw while\nhe consulted with his knights and barons what reply to send. Then some\nof the younger knights would have slain the ambassadors, saying that\ntheir speech was a rebuke to all who heard the king insulted by it. But\nwhen King Arthur heard that, he ordered none to touch them upon pain of\ndeath; and sending officers, he had them taken to a noble lodging, and\nthere entertained with the best cheer. \"And,\" said he, \"let no dainty be\nspared, for the Romans are great lords; and though their message please\nme not, yet must I remember mine honor.\"\nThen the lords and knights of the Round Table were called on to declare\ntheir counsel--what should be done upon this matter; and Sir Cador of\nCornwall speaking first, said, \"Sir, this message is the best news I\nhave heard for a long time, for we have been now idle and at rest for\nmany days, and I trust that thou wilt make sharp war upon the Romans,\nwherein, I doubt not, we shall all gain honor.\"\n\"I believe well,\" said Arthur, \"that thou art pleased, Sir Cador; but\nthat is scarce an answer to the Emperor of Rome, and his demand doth\ngrieve me sorely, for truly I will never pay him tribute; wherefore,\nlords, I pray ye counsel me. Now, I have understood that Belinus and\nBrennius, knights of Britain, held the Roman Empire in their hands for\nmany days, and also Constantine, the son of Helen, which is open\nevidence, not only that we owe Rome no tribute, but that I, being\ndescended from them, may, of right, myself claim the empire.\"\nThen said King Anguish of Scotland, \"Sir, thou oughtest of right to be\nabove all other kings, for in all Christendom is there not thine equal;\nand I counsel thee never to obey the Romans. For when they reigned here\nthey grievously distressed us, and put the land to great and heavy\nburdens; and here, for my part, I swear to avenge me on them when I may,\nand will furnish thee with twenty thousand men-at-arms, whom I will pay\nand keep, and who shall wait on thee with me, when it shall please\nthee.\"\nThen the King of Little Britain rose and promised King Arthur thirty\nthousand men; and likewise many other kings, and dukes, and barons,\npromised aid--as the lord of West Wales thirty thousand men, Sir Ewaine\nand his cousin thirty thousand men, and so forth; Sir Lancelot also, and\nevery other knight of the Round Table, promised each man a great host.\nSo the king, passing joyful at their courage and good will, thanked them\nall heartily, and sent for the ambassadors again, to hear his answer. \"I\nwill,\" said he, \"that ye now go back straightway unto the Emperor your\nmaster, and tell him that I give no heed to his words, for I have\nconquered all my kingdoms by the will of God and by my own right arm,\nand I am strong enough to keep them, without paying tribute to any\nearthly creature. But, on the other hand, I claim both tribute and\nsubmission from himself, and also claim the sovereignty of all his\nempire, whereto I am entitled by the right of my own ancestors--sometime\nkings of this land. And say to him that I will shortly come to Rome, and\nby God's grace will take possession of my empire and subdue all rebels.\nWherefore, lastly, I command him and all the lords of Rome that they\nforthwith pay me their homage, under pain of my chastisement and wrath.\"\nThen he commanded his treasurers to give the ambassadors great gifts,\nand defray all their charges, and appointed Sir Cador to convey them\nworshipfully out of the land.\nSo when they returned to Rome and came before Lucius, he was sore angry\nat their words, and said, \"I thought this Arthur would have instantly\nobeyed my orders and have served me as humbly as any other king; but\nbecause of his fortune in Gaul, he hath grown insolent.\"\n\"Ah, lord,\" said one of the ambassadors, \"refrain from such vain words,\nfor truly I and all with me were fearful at his royal majesty and angry\ncountenance. I fear me thou hast made a rod for thee more sharp than\nthou hast counted on. He meaneth to be master of this empire; and is\nanother kind of man than thou supposest, and holdeth the most noble\ncourt of all the world. We saw him on the new year's day, served at his\ntable by nine kings, and the noblest company of other princes, lords,\nand knights that ever was in all the world; and in his person he is the\nmost manly-seeming man that liveth, and looketh like to conquer all the\nearth.\"\nThen Lucius sent messengers to all the subject countries of Rome, and\nbrought together a mighty army, and assembled sixteen kings, and many\ndukes, princes, lords, and admirals, and a wondrous great multitude of\npeople. Fifty giants also, born of fiends, were set around him for a\nbody-guard. With all that host he straightway went from Rome, and passed\nbeyond the mountains into Gaul, and burned the towns and ravaged all the\ncountry of that province, in rage for its submission to King Arthur.\nThen he moved on towards Little Britain.\nMeanwhile, King Arthur having held a parliament at York, left the realm\nin charge of Sir Badewine and Sir Constantine, and crossed the sea from\nSandwich to meet Lucius. And so soon as he was landed, he sent Sir\nGawain, Sir Bors, Sir Lionel, and Sir Bedivere to the Emperor,\ncommanding him \"to move swiftly and in haste out of his land, and, if\nnot, to make himself ready for battle, and not continue ravaging the\ncountry and slaying harmless people.\" Anon, those noble knights attired\nthemselves and set forth on horseback to where they saw, in a meadow,\nmany silken tents of divers colors, and the Emperor's pavilion in the\nmidst, with a golden eagle set above it.\nThen Sir Gawain and Sir Bors rode forward, leaving the other two behind\nin ambush, and gave King Arthur's message. To which the Emperor replied,\n\"Return, and tell your lord that I am come to conquer him and all his\nland.\"\nAt this, Sir Gawain burned with anger, and cried out, \"I had rather than\nall France that I might fight with thee alone!\"\n\"And I also,\" said Sir Bors.\nThen a knight named Ganius, a near cousin of the Emperor, laughed out\naloud, and said, \"Lo! how these Britons boast and are full of pride,\nbragging as though they bare up all the world!\"\nAt these words, Sir Gawain could refrain no longer, but drew forth his\nsword and with one blow shore off Ganius' head; then with Sir Bors, he\nturned his horse and rode over waters and through woods, back to the\nambush, where Sir Lionel and Sir Bedivere were waiting. The Romans\nfollowed fast behind them till the knights turned and stood, and then\nSir Bors smote the foremost of them through the body with a spear, and\nslew him on the spot. Then came on Calibere, a huge Pavian, but Sir Bors\noverthrew him also. And then the company of Sir Lionel and Sir Bedivere\nbrake forth from their ambush and fell on the Romans, and slew and\nhewed them down, and forced them to return and flee, chasing them to\ntheir tents.\nBut as they neared the camp, a great host more rushed forth, and turned\nthe battle backwards, and in the turmoil, Sir Bors and Sir Berel fell\ninto the Romans' hands. When Sir Gawain saw that, he drew his good sword\nGalotine, and swore to see King Arthur's face no more if those two\nknights were not delivered; and then, with good Sir Idrus, made so sore\nan onslaught that the Romans fled and left Sir Bors and Sir Berel to\ntheir friends. So the Britons returned in triumph to King Arthur, having\nslain more than ten thousand Romans, and lost no man of worship from\namongst themselves.\nWhen the Emperor Lucius heard of that discomfiture he arose, with all\nhis army, to crush King Arthur, and met him in the vale of Soissons.\nThen speaking to all his host, he said, \"Sirs, I admonish you that this\nday ye fight and acquit yourselves as men; and remembering how Rome is\nchief of all the earth, and mistress of the universal world, suffer not\nthese barbarous and savage Britons to abide our onset.\" At that, the\ntrumpets blew so loud, that the ground trembled and shook.\nThen did the rival hosts draw near each other with great shoutings; and\nwhen they closed, no tongue can tell the fury of their smiting, and the\nsore struggling, wounds, and slaughter. Then King Arthur, with his\nmightiest knights, rode down into the thickest of the fight, and drew\nExcalibur, and slew as lightning slays for swiftness and for force. And\nin the midmost crowd he met a giant, Galapas by name, and struck off\nboth his legs at the knee-joints; then saying, \"Now art thou a better\nsize to deal with!\" smote his head off at a second blow: and the body\nkilled six men in falling down.\nAnon, King Arthur spied where Lucius fought and worked great deeds of\nprowess with his own hands. Forthwith he rode at him, and each attacked\nthe other passing fiercely; till at the last, Lucius struck King Arthur\nwith a fearful wound across the face, and Arthur, in return, lifting up\nExcalibur on high, drove it with all his force upon the Emperor's head,\nshivering his helmet, crashing his head in halves, and splitting his\nbody to the breast. And when the Romans saw their Emperor dead, they\nfled in hosts of thousands; and King Arthur and his knights, and all his\narmy followed them, and slew one hundred thousand men.\nThen returning to the field, King Arthur rode to the place where Lucius\nlay dead, and round him the kings of Egypt and Ethiopia, and seventeen\nother kings, with sixty Roman senators, all noble men. All these he\nordered to be carefully embalmed with aromatic gums, and laid in leaden\ncoffins, covered with their shields and arms and banners. Then calling\nfor three senators who were taken prisoners, he said to them, \"As the\nransom of your lives, I will that ye take these dead bodies and carry\nthem to Rome, and there present them for me, with these letters saying I\nwill myself be shortly there. And I suppose the Romans will beware how\nthey again ask tribute of me; for tell them, these dead bodies that I\nsend them are for the tribute they have dared to ask of me; and if they\nwish for more, when I come I will pay them the rest.\"\nSo, with that charge, the three senators departed with the dead bodies,\nand went to Rome; the body of the Emperor being carried in a chariot\nblazoned with the arms of the empire, all alone, and the bodies of the\nkings two and two in chariots following.\nAfter the battle, King Arthur entered Lorraine, Brabant, and Flanders,\nand thence, subduing all the countries as he went, passed into Germany,\nand so beyond the mountains into Lombardy and Tuscany. At length he came\nbefore a city which refused to obey him, wherefore he sat down before it\nto besiege it. And after a long time thus spent, King Arthur called Sir\nFlorence, and told him they began to lack food for his hosts--\"And not\nfar from hence,\" said he, \"are great forests full of cattle belonging to\nmy enemies. Go then, and bring by force all that thou canst find; and\ntake with thee Sir Gawain, my nephew, and Sir Clegis, Sir Claremond, the\nCaptain of Cardiff, and a strong band.\"\nAnon, those knights made ready, and rode over holts and hills, and\nthrough forests and woods, till they came to a great meadow full of fair\nflowers and grass, and there they rested themselves and their horses\nthat night. And at the dawn of the next day, Sir Gawain took his horse\nand rode away from his fellows to seek some adventure. Soon he saw an\narmed knight walking his horse by a wood's side, with his shield laced\nto his shoulder, and no attendant with him save a page, bearing a mighty\nspear; and on his shield were blazoned three gold griffins. When Sir\nGawain spied him, he put his spear in rest, and riding straight to him,\nasked who he was. \"A Tuscan,\" said he; \"and thou mayest prove me when\nthou wilt, for thou shalt be my prisoner ere we part.\"\nThen said Sir Gawain, \"Thou vauntest thee greatly, and speakest proud\nwords; yet I counsel thee, for all thy boastings, look to thyself the\nbest thou canst.\"\nAt that they took their spears and ran at each other with all the might\nthey had, and smote each other through their shields into their\nshoulders; and then drawing swords smote with great strokes, till the\nfire sprang out of their helms. Then was Sir Gawain enraged, and with\nhis good sword Galotine struck his enemy through shield and hauberk, and\nsplintered into piece all the precious stones of it, and made so huge a\nwound that men might see both lungs and liver. At that the Tuscan,\ngroaning loudly, rushed on to Sir Gawain, and gave him a deep slanting\nstroke, and made a mighty wound and cut a great vein asunder, so that he\nbled fast. Then he cried out, \"Bind thy wound quickly up, Sir knight,\nfor thou be-bloodest all thy horse and thy fair armor, and all the\nsurgeons of the world shall never staunch thy blood; for so shall it be\nto whomsoever is hurt with this good sword.\"\nThen answered Sir Gawain, \"It grieveth me but little, and thy boastful\nwords give me no fear, for thou shalt suffer greater grief and sorrow\nere we part; but tell me quickly who can staunch this blood.\"\n\"That can I do,\" said the strange knight, \"and will, if thou wilt aid\nand succor me to become christened, and to believe in God, which now I\ndo require of thee upon thy manhood.\"\n\"I am content,\" said Sir Gawain; \"and may God help me to grant all thy\nwishes. But tell me first, what soughtest thou thus here alone, and of\nwhat land art thou?\"\n\"Sir,\" said the knight, \"my name is Prianius, and my father is a great\nprince, who hath rebelled against Rome. He is descended from Alexander\nand Hector, and of our lineage also were Joshua and Maccab\u00e6us. I am of\nright the king of Alexandria, and Africa, and all the outer isles, yet I\nwould believe in the Lord thou worshipest, and for thy labor I will give\nthee treasure enough. I was so proud in heart that I thought none my\nequal, but now have I encountered with thee, who hast given me my fill\nof fighting; wherefore, I pray thee, Sir knight, tell me of thyself.\"\n\"I am no knight,\" said Sir Gawain; \"I have been brought up many years in\nthe wardrobe of the noble prince King Arthur, to mind his armor and\narray.\"\n\"Ah,\" said Prianius, \"if his varlets be so keen and fierce, his knights\nmust be passing good! Now, for the love of heaven, whether thou be\nknight or knave, tell me thy name.\"\n\"By heaven!\" said Gawain, \"now will I tell thee the truth. My name is\nSir Gawain, and I am a knight of the Round Table.\"\n\"Now am I better pleased,\" said Prianius, \"than if thou hadst given me\nall the province of Paris the rich. I had rather have been torn by wild\nhorses than that any varlet should have won such victory over me as thou\nhast done. But now, Sir knight, I warn thee that close by is the Duke of\nLorraine, with sixty thousand good men of war; and we had both best flee\nat once, for he will find us else, and we be sorely wounded and never\nlikely to recover. And let my page be careful that he blow no horn, for\nhard by are a hundred knights, my servants; and if they seize thee, no\nransom of gold or silver would acquit thee.\"\nThen Sir Gawain rode over a river to save himself, and Sir Prianius\nafter him, and so they both fled till they came to his companions who\nwere in the meadow, where they spent the night. When Sir Whishard saw\nSir Gawain so hurt, he ran to him weeping, and asked him who it was had\nwounded him; and Sir Gawain told him how he had fought with that\nman--pointing to Prianius--who had salves to heal them both. \"But I can\ntell ye other tidings,\" said he--\"that soon we must encounter many\nenemies, for a great army is close to us in our front.\"\nThen Prianius and Sir Gawain alighted and let their horses graze while\nthey unarmed, and when they took this armor and their clothing off, the\nhot blood ran down freshly from their wounds till it was piteous to\nsee. But Prianius took from his page a vial filled from the four rivers\nthat flow out of Paradise, and anointed both their wounds with a certain\nbalm, and washed them with that water, and within an hour afterwards\nthey were both as sound and whole as ever they had been. Then, at the\nsound of a trumpet, all the knights were assembled to council; and after\nmuch talking, Prianius said, \"Cease your words, for I warn you in yonder\nwood ye shall find knights out of number, who will put out cattle for a\ndecoy to lead you on; and ye are not seven hundred!\"\n\"Nevertheless,\" said Sir Gawain, \"let us at once encounter them, and see\nwhat they can do; and may the best have the victory.\"\nThen they saw suddenly an earl named Sir Ethelwold, and the Duke of\nDuchmen come leaping out of ambush of the woods in front, with many a\nthousand after them, and all rode straight down to the battle. And Sir\nGawain, full of ardor and courage, comforted his knights, saying, \"They\nall are ours.\" Then the seven hundred knights, in one close company, set\nspurs to their horses and began to gallop, and fiercely met their\nenemies. And then were men and horses slain and overthrown on every\nside, and in and out amidst them all, the knights of the Round Table\npressed and thrust, and smote down to the earth all who withstood them,\ntill at length the whole of them turned back and fled.\n\"By heaven!\" said Sir Gawain, \"this gladdeneth well my heart, for now\nbehold them as they flee! they are full seventy thousand less in number\nthan they were an hour ago!\"\nThus was the battle quickly ended, and a great host of high lords and\nknights of Lombardy and Saracens left dead upon the field. Then Sir\nGawain and his company collected a great plenty of cattle, and of gold\nand silver, and all kind of treasure, and returned to King Arthur, where\nhe still kept the siege.\n\"Now God be thanked,\" cried he; \"but who is he that standeth yonder by\nhimself, and seemeth not a prisoner?\"\n\"Sir,\" said Sir Gawain, \"he is a good man with his weapons, and hath\nmatched me; but cometh hither to be made a Christian. Had it not been\nfor his warnings, we none of us should have been here this day. I pray\nthee, therefore, let him be baptized, for there can be few nobler men,\nor better knights.\"\nSo Prianius was christened, and made a duke and knight of the Round\nTable.\nPresently afterwards, they made a last attack upon the city, and entered\nby the walls on every side; and as the men were rushing to the pillage,\ncame the Duchess forth, with many ladies and damsels, and kneeled before\nKing Arthur; and besought him to receive their submission. To whom the\nking made answer, with a noble countenance, \"Madam, be well assured that\nnone shall harm ye, or your ladies; neither shall any that belong to\nthee be hurt; but the Duke must abide my judgment.\" Then he commanded to\nstay the assault and took the keys from the Duke's eldest son, who\nbrought them kneeling. Anon the Duke was sent a prisoner to Dover for\nhis life, and rents and taxes were assigned for dowry of the Duchess and\nher children.\nThen went he on with all his hosts, winning all towns and castles, and\nwasting them that refused obedience, till he came to Viterbo. From\nthence he sent to Rome, to ask the senators whether they would receive\nhim for their lord and governor. In answer, came out to him all the\nSenate who remained alive, and the Cardinals, with a majestic retinue\nand procession; and laying great treasures at his feet, they prayed him\nto come in at once to Rome, and there be peaceably crowned as Emperor.\n\"At this next Christmas,\" said King Arthur, \"will I be crowned, and hold\nmy Round Table in your city.\"\nAnon he entered Rome, in mighty pomp and state; and after him came all\nhis hosts, and his knights, and princes, and great lords, arrayed in\ngold and jewels, such as never were beheld before. And then was he\ncrowned Emperor by the Pope's hands, with all the highest solemnity that\ncould be made.\nThen after his coronation, he abode in Rome for a season, settling his\nlands and giving kingdoms to his knights and servants, to each one after\nhis deserving, and in such wise fashion that no man among them all\ncomplained. Also he made many dukes and earls, and loaded all his\nmen-at-arms with riches and great treasures.\nWhen all this was done, the lords and knights, and all the men of great\nestate, came together before him, and said, \"Noble Emperor! by the\nblessing of Eternal God, thy mortal warfare is all finished, and thy\nconquests all achieved; for now in all the world is none so great and\nmighty as to dare make war with thee. Wherefore we beseech and heartily\npray thee of thy noble grace, to turn thee homeward, and give us also\nleave to see our wives and homes again, for now we have been from them a\nlong season, and all thy journey is completed with great honor and\nworship.\"\n\"Ye say well,\" replied he, \"and to tempt God is no wisdom; therefore\nmake ready in all haste, and turn we home to England.\"\nSo King Arthur returned with his knights and lords and armies, in great\ntriumph and joy, through all the countries he had conquered, and\ncommanded that no man, upon pain of death, should rob or do any violence\nby the way. And crossing the sea, he came at length to Sandwich, where\nQueen Guinevere received him, and made great joy at his arrival. And\nthrough all the realm of Britain was there such rejoicing as no tongue\ncan tell.\nIX\nSIR GAWAIN AND THE MAID WITH THE NARROW SLEEVES\nNow it happened that as Sir Gawain was riding one day through the\ncountry he encountered a troop of knights, followed by a squire, who led\na Spanish charger, and about whose neck was hung a shield. Gawain rode\nup to the squire and said, \"Tell me, what is yonder troop that hath\nridden by?\"\nThe squire answered, \"Sir, Meliance of Lis, a brave and hardy knight.\"\n\"Is it to him you belong?\" Sir Gawain asked.\n\"Nay, sir,\" said the squire, \"my master is Teudaves, a knight as worthy\nas this one.\"\n\"Teudaves I know,\" said Gawain. \"Whither fareth he? Tell me the truth.\"\n\"He proceedeth to a tourney, sir, which this Meliance of Lis hath\nundertaken against Thi\u00e9bault of Tintagel. If you will take my advice you\nwill throw yourself into the castle, and take part against the\noutsiders.\"\n\"Was it not,\" cried Gawain, \"in the house of this Thi\u00e9bault that\nMeliance of Lis was nurtured?\"\n\"Aye, sir, so God save me!\" said the squire. \"His father loved Thi\u00e9bault\nand trusted him so much that on his death-bed he committed to his care\nhis little son, whom Thi\u00e9bault cherished and protected, until the time\ncame when the youth petitioned his daughter to give him her love; but\nshe replied that she would never do that until he should be made a\nknight. The youth, being ardent, forthwith had himself knighted, and\nthen returned to the maiden. 'Nay,' answered the girl to his renewed\nsuit, 'it shall never be, until in my presence you shall have achieved\nsuch feats of arms that I will know my love hath cost you somewhat; for\nthose things which come suddenly are not so sweet as those we earn. If\nyou wish my love, take a tournament of my father. I desire to be certain\nthat my love would be well placed in case I were to grant it.' What she\nsuggested he performed, for love hath such lordship over lovers that\nthose who are under his power would never dare refuse whatever it\npleased him to enjoin. And you, sir, sluggish will you be if you do not\nenter the castle, for they will need you greatly, if you might help\nthem.\"\nTo which Sir Gawain answered, \"Brother, go thy way, it would be wise of\nyou, and let my affairs be.\" So the squire departed, and Gawain rode\ntowards Tintagel, for there was no other way by which he could pass.\nNow Thi\u00e9bault had summoned all his kith and kin, who had come, high and\nlow, old and young; but he could not get the permission of his council\nto joust with his master, for the councillors feared lest he should\nutterly ruin their castle. Therefore the gates had been walled up with\nstones and mortar, leaving as the only approach one small postern,\nwhich had a gate made of copper, as much as a cart could haul. Sir\nGawain rode to the gate, behind the troop that bore his harness, for\nthere was no other road within seven leagues. He found the postern shut\nand so he turned into a close below the tower, that was fenced with a\npalisade. He dismounted under an oak and hung up his shields. Thither\ncame the folk from the castle, most of them sorry that the tourney had\nbeen abandoned; in the fortress was an aged nobleman, great in land and\nlineage, whose word no one disputed. A long way off the troop had been\npointed out to him, and before they rode into the close he went to\nThi\u00e9bault, and said, \"Sir, so God save me, I have seen two companions of\nKing Arthur, worthy men, who ride this way; I advise you to tourney with\ngood hope, for we have brave knights, and servants, and archers, who\nwill slay their horses, and I am certain they will joust before this\ngate; if their pride shall bring them the gain will be ours, and theirs\nwill be the loss and the shame.\"\nAs a result of this counsel Thi\u00e9bault allowed those who wished to take\ntheir arms and sally forth. The knights were right glad, and their\nsquires ran after their horses, while the dames and the damsels climbed\nhigh places to see the tourney. Below, in the meadow, they saw the arms\nof Sir Gawain, and at first thought that there were two knights, because\ntwo shields hung from the tree. They cried out that they were fortunate\nto see two such knights arm. So some thought; but others exclaimed,\n\"Fair Lord God, this knight hath arms and steeds sufficient for two; if\nhe hath no companion, what will he do with two shields? Never was seen a\nknight who carried two shields at one and the same time. It is very\nstrange if one man means to bear two shields.\"\nWhile the ladies talked and the knights went forth from the castle the\nelder daughter of Thi\u00e9bault mounted to the tower, she on account of whom\nthe tournament had been undertaken, and with her her younger sister,\nwhose sleeves were so quaint that she was called the Maid with the\nNarrow Sleeves, for she wore them tight. Dames and damsels climbed the\ntower with them, and the tourney was joined in front of the castle. None\nbore himself so well as Meliance of Lis, by the testimony of his fair\nfriend, who said to those about her, \"Ladies, never did I see a knight\nwho delighted me as doth Meliance of Lis. Is it not a pleasure to see\nsuch a knight? That man must have a good seat and be skillful in the use\nof lance and shield who beareth himself so excellently.\"\nThereupon her sister, who sat by her side, said that she saw a fairer\nknight. The elder maiden was angry and rose to strike her sister. But\nthe ladies interfered, and held her back, so that she missed her blow,\nwhich greatly incensed her.\nIn the tournament many lances were shivered, shields pierced, and\nknights unhorsed; and it went hard with the knight who met Meliance of\nLis, for there was none he did not throw on the hard ground. If his\nlance broke, he dealt great blows with his sword; and he bore himself\nbetter than any other knight on either side, to the great joy of his\nfair friend, who could not resist exclaiming, \"Ladies, it is wonderful!\nBehold the best bachelor knight of whom minstrel hath ever sung or whom\neyes have ever seen, the fairest and bravest of all those in the\ntourney!\"\nThen the little girl cried, \"I see a handsomer one, and 'tis like, a\nbetter!\"\nThe elder sister grew hot. \"Ha, girl, you were malapert when you were so\nunlucky as to blame one whom I praised! Take that, to teach you better\nanother time!\" So saying, she slapped her sister, so hard that she left\non the little girl's cheek the print of her five fingers. But the ladies\nwho sat near scolded her and took her away.\nAfter that they fell to talking of Sir Gawain. One of the damsels said,\n\"The knight beneath yonder tree, why doth he delay to take arms?\" A\nsecond damsel, who was ruder, exclaimed, \"He hath sworn to keep the\npeace.\" And a third added, \"He is a merchant. Don't tell me that he\ndesireth to joust; he bringeth horses to market.\" \"He is a\nmoney-changer,\" said a fourth. \"The goods he hath he meaneth to sell to\npoor bachelors. Trust me, he hath money or raiment in those chests.\"\n\"You have wicked tongues!\" cried the little girl. \"And you lie! Do you\nthink a merchant would bear such huge lances? You tire me to death,\ntalking such nonsense! By the faith that I owe the Holy Spirit, he\nseemeth to me a knight rather than a merchant or a money-changer. He is\na knight, and he looketh like one!\"\nThe ladies all cried with one voice, \"Fair sweet friend, if he looketh\nso, it doth not follow that he is so. He putteth it on because he\nwisheth to cheat the tariff. But in spite of all his cleverness he is a\nfool, for he will be taken up and hung for a cheat.\"\nNow Gawain heard all that the ladies said about him, and he was ashamed\nand annoyed. But he thought, and thought rightly, that he lay under an\naccusation of treason, and that it was his duty to keep his pledge or\nforever disgrace himself and his line. It was for this reason that he\ntook no part in the tourney, lest, if he fought, he should be wounded or\ntaken prisoner.\nMeliance of Lis called for great lances, to strike harder blows. Until\nnight fell the tourney continued before the gate; the man who took any\nbooty carried it to some place where he thought it would be safe. Then\nthe ladies saw a squire, tall and strong, who held a piece of a lance\nand bore on his neck a steel cap. One of the ladies, who was foolish,\ncalled to him, saying, \"Sir squire, so God help me, it is foolish of you\nto make prize of that tester, those arms and croup-piece. If you do a\nsquire's duty you deserve a squire's wage. Below, in yonder meadow, is a\nman who hath riches he cannot defend. Unwise is he who misseth his gain\nwhile he hath the power to take it. He seemeth the most debonair of\nknights, and yet he would not stir if one plucked his beard. If you are\nwise, take the armor and the treasure, none will hinder you.\"\nThe squire went into the meadow and struck one of Gawain's horses,\ncrying, \"Vassal, are you sick that all day long you gape here and have\ndone nothing, neither pierced shield nor shivered lance?\"\nSir Gawain answered, \"Pray, what is it to you why I tarry? You shall\nknow, but not now. Get you gone about your business.\"\nThe squire withdrew, for Gawain was not the type of man to whom he would\ndare say anything unpleasant.\nThe tourney ended, after many knights had been killed and many horses\ncaptured. The outsiders had had the best, and the people of the castle\ngained by the intermission. At parting they all agreed that on the\nmorrow with songs they would meet again and continue the encounter. So\nfor that night they separated and those who had sallied forth returned\nto the castle, followed by Sir Gawain. At the gate he met the nobleman\nwho had advised his lord to engage in the tourney. This man accosted him\npleasantly, and said, \"Fair sir, in this castle your hostel is ready. If\nit pleaseth you, remain here, for if you should go on it would be long\nbefore you arrived at a lodging; therefore I urge you to stay.\"\n\"I will tarry, your mercy!\" said Gawain. \"I have heard worse words.\"\nThe man led the guest to his house, talking of this and that, and asked\nhim why on that day he had not borne arms. Sir Gawain explained how he\nhad been accused of treason and was bound to be on his guard against\nprison and wounds until he could free himself from the reproach that was\ncast upon him, for it would be to the dishonor of himself and his\nfriends if he should fail to appear at the time appointed.\nThe nobleman praised him, and said that if this was the reason he had\ndone right. With that he led Gawain to his house, where they dismounted.\nThe people of the castle blamed him, wondering how his lord would take\nit; while the elder daughter of Thi\u00e9bault did her best to make trouble\nfor Gawain, on account of her sister, with whom she was angry. \"Sir,\"\nshe said to her father, \"on this day you have suffered no loss, but made\na gain, greater than you think; you have only to go and take it. The man\nwho hath brought it will not dare to defend it, for he is wily. Lances\nand shields he bringeth, with palfreys and chargers, and maketh himself\nresemble a knight to cheat the customs, so that he may pass free when he\ncometh to sell his wares. Render him his deserts. He is with Garin, the\nson of Bertan, who hath taken him to lodge at his house. I just saw him\npass.\"\nThi\u00e9bault took his horse, for he himself wished to go there. The little\ngirl, who saw him leave, went out secretly by a back gate and straight\ndown the hill to the house of Garin, who had two fair daughters. When\nthese saw their little lady they should have been glad, and glad they\nwere, each took her by a hand and led her into the house, kissing her\neyes and lips.\nIn the meantime Garin and his son Herman had left the house and were\ngoing up to the castle to speak to their lord. Midway there they met\nThi\u00e9bault and saluted him. He asked whither Garin was going and said he\nhad intended to pay him a visit. \"By my faith,\" said the nobleman, \"that\nwill not displease me, and at my house you shall see the fairest of\nknights.\"\n\"It is even he whom I seek,\" said Thi\u00e9bault, \"to arrest him. He is a\nmerchant who selleth horses and pretendeth to be a knight.\"\n\"Alas,\" said Garin, \"'tis a churlish speech I hear you make! I am your\nman and you are my master, but on the spot I renounce your homage, and\nin the name of all my line now defy you, rather than suffer you to\ndisgrace my house.\"\n\"Indeed,\" answered Thi\u00e9bault, \"I have no wish to do any such thing.\nNeither you nor your house shall ever receive aught but honor from me;\nnot but what I have been counseled so to proceed.\"\n\"Your great mercy!\" exclaimed the nobleman. \"It will be my honor if you\nwill visit my guest.\"\nSo side by side they went on until they reached the house. When Sir\nGawain saw them, he rose out of courtesy, and said, \"Welcome!\" The two\nsaluted him and took their seats beside him. Then the nobleman, who was\nthe lord of that country, asked why he had taken no part in the tourney,\nand Gawain narrated how a knight had accused him of treason and how he\nwas on his way to defend himself in a royal court. \"Doubtless,\"\nanswered the lord, \"that is sufficient excuse. But where is the battle\nto be held?\"\n\"Sir, before the king of Cavalon, whither I am journeying.\"\n\"And I,\" said the nobleman, \"will guide you. Since you must needs pass\nthrough a poor country, I will provide you with food and packbeasts to\ncarry it.\"\nGawain answered that he had no need to accept anything, for if it could\nbe bought he would have food and lodging wherever he went.\nWith these words Thi\u00e9bault took leave. As he departed, from the opposite\ndirection he saw come his little daughter, who embraced Gawain's leg,\nand said, \"Fair sir, listen! I have come to complain of my sister, who\nhath beaten me. So please you, do me justice!\"\nGawain made no answer, for he did not know what she meant. He put his\nhand on her head, while the girl pulled him, saying, \"To you, fair sir,\nI complain of my sister. I do not love her, since to-day she hath done\nme great shame for your sake.\"\n\"Fair one, what have I to do with that? How can I do you justice against\nyour sister?\"\nThi\u00e9bault, who had taken leave, heard his child's entreaty, and said,\n\"Girl, who bade you come here and complain to this knight?\"\nGawain asked, \"Fair sweet sir, is this maid your daughter?\"\n\"Aye; but never mind what she says. A girl is a silly creature.\"\n\"Certes,\" said Gawain, \"I should be churlish if I did not do what she\ndesires. Tell me, my sweet child and fair, in what manner I can justify\nyou against your sister.\"\n\"If it pleaseth you, for love of me, bear arms in the tourney.\"\n\"Tell me, dear friend,\" said Gawain, \"have you ever before made petition\nto any knight?\"\n\"No, sir.\"\n\"Never mind her,\" exclaimed her father. \"Pay no heed to her folly.\"\nSir Gawain answered, \"Sir, so aid me the Lord God, for so little a girl,\nshe hath spoken very well, and I will not refuse her. To-morrow, if she\nwisheth, I will be her knight.\"\n\"Your mercy, fair sweet sir!\" cried the child, who was overjoyed, and\nbowed down to his feet.\nWithout more words they parted. Thi\u00e9bault carried his daughter back on\nthe neck of his palfrey. As they rode up the hill be asked her what the\nquarrel had been about, and she told him the story from beginning to\nend, saying, \"Sir, I was vexed with my sister, who declared that\nMeliance of Lis was the best of all the knights; and I, who had seen\nthis knight in the meadow, could not help saying that I had seen a\nfairer, whereupon my sister called me a silly girl and beat me. Fie on\nme, if I take it from her! I would cut off both my braids close to my\nhead, which would be a great loss, if to-morrow in the tourney this\nknight would conquer Meliance of Lis, and put an end to the fuss of\nmadam, my sister! She talked so much that she tired all the ladies; but\na little rain will hush a great wind.\"\n\"Fair child,\" said her father, \"I command and allow you, in courtesy, to\nsend him some love-token, a sleeve or a wimple.\"\nThe child, who was simple, answered, \"With pleasure since you bid me.\nBut my sleeves are so small, I should not like to send them. Most likely\nhe would not care for them.\"\n\"Daughter, say no more,\" said Thi\u00e9bault. \"I will think about it. I am\nvery glad.\" So saying, he took her in his arms, and had great joy of\nembracing and kissing her, until he came in front of his palace. But\nwhen his elder daughter saw him approach, with the child before him, she\nwas vexed, and exclaimed, \"Sir, whence cometh my sister, the Maid with\nthe Narrow Sleeves? She is full of her tricks; she hath been quick about\nit; where did you find her?\"\n\"And you,\" he answered, \"what is it to you? Hush, for she is better than\nyou are. You pulled her hair and beat her, which grieveth me. You acted\nrudely; you were discourteous.\"\nWhen she heard her father's rebuke, the maid was greatly abashed.\nThi\u00e9bault had brought from his chests a piece of red samite, and he bade\nhis people cut out and make a sleeve, wide and long. Then he called his\ndaughter and said, \"Child, to-morrow rise betimes and visit the knight\nbefore he leaveth his hostel. For love's sake you will give him this\nnew sleeve, which he will wear in the tourney when he goeth thither.\"\nThe girl answered that so soon as ever she saw the clear dawn she would\ndress herself and go. With that her father went his way, while she, in\ngreat glee, charged her companions that they should not let her\noversleep but should wake her when day broke, if they would have her\nlove them. They did as she wished, and when it dawned caused her to wake\nand dress. All alone she went to the house where Sir Gawain lodged, but,\nearly though it was, the knights had risen and gone to the monastery to\nhear mass sung. She waited until they had offered long orisons and\nlistened to the service, as much as was right. When they returned the\nchild rose to greet Sir Gawain, and cried, \"Sir, on this day may God\nsave and honor you! For love of me, wear the sleeve which I carry in my\nhand.\"\n\"With pleasure,\" he answered; \"friend, your mercy!\"\nAfter that the knights were not slow to take arms, and came pouring out\nof the town, while the damsels again went up to the walls and the dames\nof the castle saw the troops of brave and hardy knights approach.\nThey rode with loose rein, and in front was Meliance of Lis, who went so\nfast that he left the rest in the rear, two rods and more. When his\nmaiden saw her friend she could not keep quiet, but cried, \"Ladies,\nyonder comes the man who hath the lordship of chivalry!\"\nAs swiftly as his horse would carry him Sir Gawain charged Meliance of\nLis, who did not evade the blow, but met it boldly, and shivered his\nlance. On his part Sir Gawain smote so hard that he grieved Meliance,\nwhom he flung on the field; the steed he grasped by the rein and gave to\na varlet, bidding him take it to the lady on whose account he had\nentered the tourney, and say that his master had sent her the first\nspoil he had made that day. The youth took the charger, saddled as it\nwas, and led it towards the girl, who was sitting at the window of the\ntower, whence she had watched the joust, and when she saw the encounter\nshe cried to her sister, \"Sister, there lies Meliance of Lis, whom you\npraised so highly! A wise man ought to give praise where it is due. You\nsee, I was right yesterday when I said I saw a better knight.\"\nThus she teased her sister, who grew angry, and cried, \"Child, hold your\ntongue! If you say another word, I will slap you so that you will not\nhave a foot to stand on!\" \"Oh, sister,\" answered the little girl,\n\"remember God! You ought not to beat me because I told you the truth. I\nsaw him tumble as well as you; I think he will not be able to get up. Be\nas cross as you please, I must say that there is not a lady here who did\nnot see him fall flat on the ground.\"\nHer sister would have struck her, had she been able, but the ladies\naround would not allow it.\nWith that came the squire, who held the rein in his right hand. He saw\nthe girl sitting at the window and presented the steed. She thanked him\na hundred times, and bade the steed be taken in charge. The squire\nreturned to tell his master, who seemed the lord of the tournament, for\nthere was no knight so gallant that he did not cast from the saddle, if\nhe reached him with the lance. On that day he captured four steeds. The\nfirst he sent to the little girl, the second to the wife of the nobleman\nwho had been so kind, and the third and fourth to his own daughters.\nThe tourney was over and the knights entered the city. On both sides the\nhonor belonged to Sir Gawain. It was not yet noon when he returned from\nthe encounter; the city was full of knights, who ran after him, asking\nwho he was and of what land. At the gate of his hostel he was met by the\ndamsel, who did naught but grasp his stirrup, salute him, and cry, \"A\nthousand mercies, fair sweet sir!\" He answered frankly, \"Friend, before\nI am recreant to your service, may I be aged and bald! I shall never be\nso remote, but a message will bring me. If I know your need, I shall\ncome at the first summons, whatever business be mine!\"\nWhile they talked her father came and wished Sir Gawain to stay with him\nfor that night; but first he begged, that if his guest pleased, he would\ntell his name. Sir Gawain answered, \"Sir, I am called Gawain. My name\nwas never concealed, nor have I ever told it before it hath been asked.\"\nWhen Thi\u00e9bault knew that the knight was Sir Gawain his heart was full of\njoy, and he exclaimed, \"Sir, be pleased to lodge with me, and accept my\nservice. Hitherto I have done you little worship, and never did I set\neyes on a knight whom so much I longed to honor.\"\nIn spite of urging, Sir Gawain refused to stay. The little girl, who was\ngood and clever, clasped his foot and kissed it, commending him to God.\nSir Gawain asked why she had done that, and the girl replied that she\nhad kissed his foot in order that he should remember her wherever he\nwent. He answered, \"Doubt it not, fair sweet friend! I shall never\nforget you, after I have parted hence.\"\nWith that Sir Gawain took leave of his host and the others, who one and\nall commended him to God. That night he slept in an abbey, and had all\nthat was necessary.\nTHE CHAMPIONS OF THE ROUND TABLE\nX\nTHE ADVENTURES OF SIR LANCELOT\nThen, at the following Pentecost, was held a feast of the Round Table at\nCaerleon, with high splendor; and all the knights thereof resorted to\nthe court, and held many games and jousts. And therein Sir Lancelot\nincreased in fame and worship above all men, for he overthrew all\ncomers, and never was unhorsed or worsted, save by treason and\nenchantment.\nWhen Queen Guinevere had seen his wondrous feats, she held him in great\nfavor, and smiled more on him than on any other knight. And ever since\nhe first had gone to bring her to King Arthur, had Lancelot thought on\nher as fairest of all ladies, and done his best to win her grace. So the\nqueen often sent for him, and bade him tell of his birth and strange\nadventures: how he was only son of great King Ban of Brittany, and how,\none night, his father, with his mother Helen and himself, fled from his\nburning castle; how his father, groaning deeply, fell to the ground and\ndied of grief and wounds, and how his mother, running to her husband,\nleft himself alone; how, as he thus lay wailing, came the lady of the\nlake, and took him in her arms and went with him into the midst of the\nwaters, where, with his cousins Lionel and Bors, he had been cherished\nall his childhood until he came to King Arthur's court; and how this\nwas the reason why men called him Lancelot du Lake.\nAnon it was ordained by King Arthur, that in every year at Pentecost\nthere should be held a festival of all the knights of the Round Table at\nCaerleon, or such other place as he should choose. And at those\nfestivals should be told publicly the most famous adventures of any\nknight during the past year.\nSo, when Sir Lancelot saw Queen Guinevere rejoiced to hear his\nwanderings and adventures, he resolved to set forth yet again, and win\nmore worship still, that he might more increase her favor. Then he bade\nhis cousin Sir Lionel make ready, \"for,\" said he, \"we two will seek\nadventure.\" So they mounted their horses--armed at all points--and rode\ninto a vast forest; and when they had passed through it, they came to a\ngreat plain, and the weather being very hot about noontide, Sir Lancelot\ngreatly longed to sleep. Then Sir Lionel espied a great apple-tree\nstanding by a hedge, and said, \"Brother, yonder is a fair shadow where\nwe may rest ourselves and horses.\"\n\"I am full glad of it,\" said Sir Lancelot, \"for all these seven years I\nhave not been so sleepy.\"\nSo they alighted there, and tied their horses up to sundry trees; and\nSir Lionel waked and watched while Sir Lancelot fell asleep, and slept\npassing fast.\nIn the meanwhile came three knights, riding as fast flying as ever they\ncould ride, and after them followed a single knight; but when Sir Lionel\nlooked at him, he thought he had never seen so great and strong a man,\nor so well furnished and appareled. Anon he saw him overtake the last of\nthose who fled, and smite him to the ground; then came he to the second,\nand smote him such a stroke that horse and man went to the earth; then\nrode he to the third, likewise, and struck him off his horse more than a\nspear's length. With that he lighted from his horse, and bound all three\nknights fast with the reins of their own bridles.\nWhen Sir Lionel saw this he thought the time was come to prove himself\nagainst him, so quietly and cautiously, lest he should wake Sir\nLancelot, he took his horse and mounted and rode after him. Presently\novertaking him, he cried aloud to him to turn, which instantly he did,\nand smote Sir Lionel so hard that horse and man went down forthwith.\nThen took he up Sir Lionel, and threw him bound over his own horse's\nback; and so he served the three other knights, and rode them away to\nhis own castle. There they were disarmed, stripped naked, and beaten\nwith thorns, and afterwards thrust into a deep prison, where many more\nknights, also, made great moans and lamentations, saying, \"Alas, alas!\nthere is no man can help us but Sir Lancelot, for no other knight can\nmatch this tyrant Turquine, our conqueror.\"\nBut all this while, Sir Lancelot lay sleeping soundly under the\napple-tree. And, as it chanced, there passed that way four queens, of\nhigh estate, riding upon four white mules, under four canopies of green\nsilk borne on spears, to keep them from the sun. As they rode thus,\nthey heard a great horse grimly neigh, and, turning them about, soon saw\na sleeping knight that lay all armed under an apple-tree; and when they\nsaw his face, they knew it was Sir Lancelot of the Lake.\nThen they began to strive which of them should have the care of him. But\nQueen Morgan le Fay, King Arthur's half sister, the great sorceress, was\none of them, and said, \"We need not strive for him, I have enchanted\nhim, so that for six hours more he shall not wake. Let us take him to my\ncastle, and, when he wakes, himself shall choose which one of us he\nwould rather serve.\" So Sir Lancelot was laid upon his shield and borne\non horseback between two knights, to the castle, and there laid in a\ncold chamber, till the spell should pass.\nAnon, they sent him a fair damsel, bearing his supper, who asked him,\n\"What cheer?\"\n\"I cannot tell, fair damsel,\" said he, \"for I know not how I came into\nthis castle, if it were not by enchantment.\"\n\"Sir,\" said she, \"be of good heart, and to-morrow at dawn of day, ye\nshall know more.\"\nAnd so she left him alone, and there he lay all night. In the morning\nearly came the four queens to him, passing richly dressed; and said,\n\"Sir knight, thou must understand that thou art our prisoner, and that\nwe know thee well for King Ban's son, Sir Lancelot du Lake. And though\nwe know full well there is one lady only in this world may have thy\nlove, and she Queen Guinevere--King Arthur's wife--yet now are we\nresolved to have thee to serve one of us; choose, therefore, of us four\nwhich thou wilt serve. I am Queen Morgan le Fay, Queen of the land of\nGore, and here also is the Queen of Northgales, and the Queen of\nEastland, and the Queen of the Out Isles. Choose, then, at once, for\nelse shalt thou abide here, in this prison, till thy death.\"\n\"It is a hard case,\" said Sir Lancelot, \"that either I must die, or\nchoose one of you for my mistress! Yet had I rather die in this prison\nthan serve any living creature against my will. So take this for my\nanswer. I will serve none of ye, for ye be false enchantresses. And as\nfor my lady, Queen Guinevere, whom lightly ye have spoken of, were I at\nliberty I would prove it upon you or upon yours she is the truest lady\nliving to her lord the king.\"\n\"Well,\" said the queen, \"is this your answer, that ye refuse us all?\"\n\"Yea, on my life,\" said Lancelot, \"refused ye be of me.\"\nSo they departed from him in great wrath, and left him sorrowfully\ngrieving in his dungeon.\nAt noon the damsel came to him and brought his dinner, and asked him as\nbefore, \"What cheer?\"\n\"Truly, fair damsel,\" said Sir Lancelot, \"in all my life never so ill.\"\n\"Sir,\" replied she, \"I grieve to see ye so, but if ye do as I advise, I\ncan help ye out of this distress, and will do so if you promise me a\nboon.\"\n\"Fair damsel,\" said Sir Lancelot, \"right willingly will I grant it\nthee, for sorely do I dread these four witch-queens, who have destroyed\nand slain many a good knight with their enchantments.\"\nThen said the damsel, \"Sir, wilt thou promise me to help my father on\nnext Tuesday, for he hath a tournament with the King of Northgales, and\nlast Tuesday lost the field through three knights of King Arthur's\ncourt, who came against him. And if next Tuesday thou wilt aid him,\nto-morrow, before daylight, by God's grace, I will deliver thee.\"\n\"Fair maiden,\" said Sir Lancelot, \"tell me thy father's name and I will\nanswer thee.\"\n\"My father is King Bagdemagus,\" said she.\n\"I know him well,\" replied Sir Lancelot, \"for a noble king and a good\nknight; and by the faith of my body I will do him all the service I am\nable on that day.\"\n\"Gramercy to thee, Sir knight,\" said the damsel. \"To-morrow, when thou\nart delivered from this place, ride ten miles hence unto an abbey of\nwhite monks, and there abide until I bring my father to thee.\"\n\"So be it,\" said Sir Lancelot, \"as I am a true knight.\"\nSo she departed, and on the morrow, early, came again, and let him out\nof twelve gates, differently locked, and brought him to his armor; and\nwhen he was all armed, she brought him his horse also, and lightly he\nsaddled him, and took a great spear in his hand, and mounted and rode\nforth, saying, as he went, \"Fair damsel, I shall not fail thee, by the\ngrace of God.\"\nAnd all that day he rode in a great forest, and could find no highway,\nand spent the night in the wood; but the next morning found his road,\nand came to the abbey of white monks. And there he saw King Bagdemagus\nand his daughter waiting for him. So when they were together in a\nchamber, Sir Lancelot told the king how he had been betrayed by an\nenchantment, and how his brother Lionel was gone he knew not where, and\nhow the damsel had delivered him from the castle of Queen Morgan le Fay.\n\"Wherefore while I live,\" said he, \"I shall do service to herself and\nall her kindred.\"\n\"Then am I sure of thy aid,\" said the king, \"on Tuesday now next\ncoming?\"\n\"Yea, sir, I shall not fail thee,\" said Sir Lancelot; \"but what knights\nwere they who last week defeated thee, and took part with the King of\nNorthgales?\"\n\"Sir Mador de la Port, Sir Modred, and Sir Gahalatine,\" replied the\nking.\n\"Sir,\" said Sir Lancelot, \"as I understand, the tournament shall take\nplace but three miles from this abbey; send then to me here, three\nknights of thine, the best thou hast, and let them all have plain white\nshields, such as I also will; then will we four come suddenly into the\nmidst between both parties, and fall upon thy enemies, and grieve them\nall we can, and none will know us who we are.\"\nSo, on the Tuesday, Sir Lancelot and the three knights lodged themselves\nin a small grove hard by the lists. Then came into the field the King of\nNorthgales, with one hundred and sixty helms, and the three knights of\nKing Arthur's court, who stood apart by themselves. And when King\nBagdemagus had arrived, with eighty helms, both companies set all their\nspears in rest and came together with a mighty clash, wherein were slain\ntwelve knights of King Bagdemagus, and six of the King of Northgales;\nand the party of King Bagdemagus was driven back.\nWith that, came Sir Lancelot, and thrust into the thickest of the press,\nand smote down with one spear five knights, and brake the backs of four,\nand cast down the King of Northgales, and brake his thigh by the fall.\nWhen the three knights of Arthur's court saw this, they rode at Sir\nLancelot, and each after other attacked him; but he overthrew them all,\nand smote them nigh to death. Then, taking a new spear, he bore down to\nthe ground sixteen more knights, and hurt them all so sorely, that they\ncould carry arms no more that day. And when his spear at length was\nbroken, he took yet another, and smote down twelve knights more, the\nmost of whom he wounded mortally, till in the end the party of the King\nof Northgales would joust no more, and the victory was cried to King\nBagdemagus.\nThen Sir Lancelot rode forth with King Bagdemagus to his castle, and\nthere he feasted with great cheer and welcome, and received many royal\ngifts. And on the morrow he took leave and went to find his brother\nLionel.\nAnon, by chance, he came to the same forest where the four queens had\nfound him sleeping, and there he met a damsel riding on a white\npalfrey. When they had saluted each other, Sir Lancelot said, \"Fair\ndamsel, knowest thou where any adventures may be had in this country?\"\n\"Sir knight,\" said she, \"there are adventures great enough close by if\nthou darest prove them.\"\n\"Why should I not,\" said he, \"since for that cause I came here?\"\n\"Sir,\" said the damsel, \"hard by this place there dwelleth a knight that\ncannot be defeated by any man, so great and perilously strong he is. His\nname is Sir Turquine, and in the prisons of his castle lie three score\nknights and four, mostly from King Arthur's court, whom he hath taken\nwith his own hands. But promise me, ere thou undertakest their\ndeliverance, to go and help me afterwards, and free me and many other\nladies that are distressed by a false knight.\"\n\"Bring me but to this felon Turquine,\" quoth Sir Lancelot, \"and I will\nafterwards fulfill all your wishes.\"\nSo the damsel went before, and brought him to a ford, and a tree whereon\na great brass basin hung; and Sir Lancelot beat with his spear-end upon\nthe basin, long and hard, until he beat the bottom of it out, but he saw\nnothing. Then he rode to and fro before the castle gates for wellnigh\nhalf an hour, and anon saw a great knight riding from the distance,\ndriving a horse before him, across which hung an armed man bound. And\nwhen they came near, Sir Lancelot knew the prisoner for a knight of the\nRound Table. By that time, the great knight who drove the prisoner saw\nSir Lancelot, and each of them began to settle his spear, and to make\nready.\n\"Fair sir,\" then said Sir Lancelot, \"put off that wounded knight, I pray\nthee, from his horse, and let him rest while thou and I shall prove our\nstrength upon each other; for, as I am told, thou doest, and hast done,\ngreat shame and injury to knights of the Round Table. Wherefore, I warn\nthee now, defend thyself.\"\n\"If thou mayest be of the Round Table,\" answered Turquine, \"I defy thee,\nand all thy fellows.\"\n\"That is saying overmuch,\" said Sir Lancelot.\nThen, setting their lances in rest, they spurred their horses towards\neach other, as fast as they could go, and smote so fearfully upon each\nother's shields, that both their horses' backs brake under them. As soon\nas they could clear their saddles, they took their shields before them,\nand drew their swords, and came together eagerly, and fought with great\nand grievous strokes; and soon they both had many grim and fearful\nwounds, and bled in streams. Thus they fought two hours and more,\nthrusting and smiting at each other, wherever they could hit.\nAnon, they both were breathless, and stood leaning on their swords.\n\"Now, comrade,\" said Sir Turquine, \"let us wait awhile, and answer me\nwhat I shall ask thee.\"\n\"Say on,\" said Lancelot.\n\"Thou art,\" said Turquine, \"the best man I ever met, and seemest like\none that I hate above all other knights that live; but if thou be not\nhe, I will make peace with thee, and for sake of thy great valor, will\ndeliver all the three score prisoners and four who lie within my\ndungeons, and thou and I will be companions evermore. Tell me, then, thy\nname.\"\n\"Thou sayest well,\" replied Sir Lancelot; \"but who is he thou hatest so\nabove all others?\"\n\"His name,\" said Turquine, \"is Sir Lancelot of the Lake; and he slew my\nbrother Sir Carados, at the dolorous tower; wherefore, if ever I shall\nmeet with him, one of us two shall slay the other; and thereto I have\nsworn by a great oath. And to discover and destroy him I have slain a\nhundred knights, and crippled utterly as many more, and many have died\nin my prisons; and now, as I have told thee, I have many more therein,\nwho all shall be delivered, if thou tell me thy name, and it be not Sir\nLancelot.\"\n\"Well,\" said Lancelot, \"I am that knight, son of King Ban of Benwick,\nand Knight of the Round Table; so now I defy thee to do thy best!\"\n\"Aha!\" said Turquine, with a shout, \"is it then so at last! Thou art\nmore welcome to my sword than ever knight or lady was to feast, for\nnever shall we part till one of us be dead.\"\nThen did they hurtle together like two wild bulls, slashing and lashing\nwith their shields and swords, and sometimes falling both on to the\nground. For two more hours they fought so, and at the last Sir Turquine\ngrew very faint, and gave a little back, and bare his shield full low\nfor weariness. When Sir Lancelot saw him thus, he leaped upon him\nfiercely as a lion, and took him by the crest of his helmet, and dragged\nhim to his knees; and then he tore his helmet off and smote his neck\nasunder.\nThen he arose, and went to the damsel who had brought him to Sir\nTurquine, and said, \"I am ready, fair lady, to go with thee upon thy\nservice, but I have no horse.\"\n\"Fair sir,\" said she, \"take ye this horse of the wounded knight whom\nTurquine but just now was carrying to his prisons, and send that knight\non to deliver all the prisoners.\"\nSo Sir Lancelot went to the knight and prayed him for the loan of his\nhorse.\n\"Fair lord,\" said he, \"ye are right welcome, for to-day ye have saved\nboth me and my horse; and I see that ye are the best knight in all the\nworld, for in my sight have ye slain the mightiest man and the best\nknight, except thyself, I ever saw.\"\n\"Sir,\" said Sir Lancelot, \"I thank thee well; and now go into yonder\ncastle, where thou shalt find many noble knights of the Round Table, for\nI have seen their shields hung on the trees around. On yonder tree alone\nthere are Sir Key's, Sir Brandel's, Sir Marhaus', Sir Galind's, and Sir\nAliduke's, and many more; and also my two kinsmen's shields, Sir Ector\nde Maris' and Sir Lionel's. And I pray you greet them all from me, Sir\nLancelot of the Lake, and tell them that I bid them help themselves to\nany treasures they can find within the castle; and that I pray my\nbrethren, Lionel and Ector, to go to King Arthur's court and stay there\ntill I come. And by the high feast at Pentecost I must be there; but now\nI must ride forth with this damsel to fulfill my promise.\"\nSo, as they went, the damsel told him, \"Sir, we are now near the place\nwhere the foul knight haunteth, who robbeth and distresseth all ladies\nand gentlewomen traveling past this way, against whom I have sought thy\naid.\"\nThen they arranged that she should ride on foremost, and Sir Lancelot\nshould follow under cover of the trees by the roadside, and if he saw\nher come to any mishap, he should ride forth and deal with him that\ntroubled her. And as the damsel rode on at a soft ambling pace, a knight\nand page burst forth from the roadside and forced the damsel from her\nhorse, till she cried out for help.\nThen came Sir Lancelot rushing through the wood as fast as he might fly,\nand all the branches of the trees crackled and waved around him. \"O thou\nfalse knight and traitor to all knighthood!\" shouted he, \"who taught\nthee to distress fair ladies thus?\"\nThe foul knight answered nothing, but drew out his sword and rode at Sir\nLancelot, who threw his spear away and drew his own sword likewise, and\nstruck him such a mighty blow as clave his head down to the throat. \"Now\nhast thou the wages thou long hast earned!\" said he; and so departed\nfrom the damsel.\nThen for two days he rode in a great forest, and had but scanty food and\nlodging, and on the third day he rode over a long bridge, when suddenly\nthere started up a passing foul churl, and smote his horse across the\nnose, so that he started and turned back, rearing with pain. \"Why ridest\nthou over here without my leave?\" said he.\n\"Why should I not?\" said Sir Lancelot; \"there is no other way to ride.\"\n\"Thou shalt not pass by here,\" cried out the churl, and dashed at him\nwith a great club full of iron spikes, till Sir Lancelot was fain to\ndraw his sword and smite him dead upon the earth.\nAt the end of the bridge was a fair village, and all the people came and\ncried, \"Ah, sir! a worse deed for thyself thou never didst, for thou\nhast slain the chief porter of the castle yonder!\" But he let them talk\nas they pleased, and rode straight forward to the castle.\nThere he alighted, and tied his horse to a ring in the wall; and going\nin, he saw a wide green court, and thought it seemed a noble place to\nfight in. And as he looked about, he saw many people watching him from\ndoors and windows, making signs of warning, and saying, \"Fair knight,\nthou art unhappy.\" In the next moment came upon him two great giants,\nwell armed save their heads, and with two horrible clubs in their hands.\nThen he put his shield before him, and with it warded off one giant's\nstroke, and clove the other with his sword from the head downward to the\nchest. When the first giant saw that, he ran away mad with fear; but Sir\nLancelot ran after him, and smote him through the shoulder, and shore\nhim down his back, so that he fell dead.\nThen he walked onward to the castle hall, and saw a band of sixty ladies\nand young damsels coming forth, who knelt to him, and thanked him for\ntheir freedom. \"For, sir,\" said they, \"the most of us have been\nprisoners here these seven years; and have been kept at all manner of\nwork to earn our meat, though we be all great gentlewomen born. Blessed\nbe the time that thou wast born, for never did a knight a deed of\ngreater worship than thou hast this day, and thereto will we all bear\nwitness in all times and places! Tell us, therefore, noble knight, thy\nname and court, that we may tell them to our friends!\" And when they\nheard it, they all cried aloud, \"Well may it be so, for we knew that no\nknight save thou shouldst ever overcome those giants; and many a long\nday have we sighed for thee; for the giants feared no other name among\nall knights but thine.\"\nThen he told them to take the treasures of the castle as a reward for\ntheir grievances; and to return to their homes, and so rode away into\nmany strange and wild countries. And at last, after many days, by chance\nhe came, near the night time, to a fair mansion, wherein he found an old\ngentlewoman, who gave him and his horse good cheer. And when bed time\nwas come, his host brought him to a chamber over a gate, and there he\nunarmed, and went to bed and fell asleep.\nBut soon thereafter came one riding in great haste, and knocking\nvehemently at the gate below, which when Sir Lancelot heard, he rose\nand looked out of the window, and, by the moonlight, saw three knights\ncome riding fiercely after one man, and lashing on him all at once with\ntheir swords, while the one knight nobly fought them all.\nThen Sir Lancelot quickly armed himself, and getting through the window,\nlet himself down by a sheet into the midst of them, crying out, \"Turn ye\non me, ye cowards, and leave fighting with that knight!\" Then they all\nleft Sir Key, for the first knight was he, and began to fall upon Sir\nLancelot furiously. And when Sir Key would have come forward to assist\nhim, Sir Lancelot refused, and cried, \"Leave me alone to deal with\nthem.\" And presently, with six great strokes, he felled them all.\nThen they cried out, \"Sir knight, we yield us unto thee, as to a man of\nmight!\"\n\"I will not take your yielding!\" said he; \"yield ye to Sir Key, the\nseneschal, or I will have your lives.\"\n\"Fair knight,\" said they, \"excuse us in that thing, for we have chased\nSir Key thus far, and should have overcome him but for thee.\"\n\"Well,\" said Sir Lancelot, \"do as ye will, for ye may live or die; but,\nif ye live, ye shall be holden to Sir Key.\"\nThen they yielded to him; and Sir Lancelot commanded them to go unto\nKing Arthur's court at the next Pentecost, and say, Sir Key had sent\nthem prisoners to Queen Guinevere. And this they sware to do upon their\nswords.\nThen Sir Lancelot knocked at the gate with his sword-hilt till his\nhostess came and let him in again, and Sir Key also. And when the light\ncame, Sir Key knew Sir Lancelot, and knelt and thanked him for his\ncourtesy, and gentleness, and kindness. \"Sir,\" said he, \"I have done no\nmore than what I ought to do, and ye are welcome; therefore let us now\ntake rest.\"\nSo when Sir Key had supped, they went to sleep, and Sir Lancelot and he\nslept in the same bed. On the morrow, Sir Lancelot rose early, and took\nSir Key's shield and armor and set forth. When Sir Key arose, he found\nSir Lancelot's armor by his bedside, and his own arms gone. \"Now, by my\nfaith,\" thought he, \"I know that he will grieve some knights of our\nking's court; for those who meet him will be bold to joust with him,\nmistaking him for me, while I, dressed in his shield and armor, shall\nsurely ride in peace.\"\nThen Sir Lancelot, dressed in Sir Key's apparel, rode long in a great\nforest, and came at last to a low country, full of rivers and fair\nmeadows, and saw a bridge before him, whereon were three silk tents of\ndivers colors, and to each tent was hung a white shield, and by each\nshield stood a knight. So Sir Lancelot went by without speaking a word.\nAnd when he had passed, the three knights said it was the proud Sir Key,\n\"who thinketh no knight equal to himself, although the contrary is full\noften proved upon him.\"\n\"By my faith!\" said one of them, named Gaunter, \"I will ride after and\nattack him for all his pride, and ye shall watch my speed.\"\nThen, taking shield and spear, he mounted and rode after Sir Lancelot,\nand cried, \"Abide, proud knight, and turn, for thou shalt not pass\nfree!\"\nSo Sir Lancelot turned, and each one put his spear in rest and came with\nall his might against the other. And Sir Gaunter's spear brake short,\nbut Sir Lancelot smote him down, both horse and man.\nWhen the other knights saw this, they said, \"Yonder is not Sir Key, but\na bigger man.\"\n\"I dare wager my head,\" said Sir Gilmere, \"yonder knight hath slain Sir\nKey, and taken his horse and harness.\"\n\"Be it so, or not,\" said Sir Reynold, the third brother; \"let us now go\nto our brother Gaunter's rescue; we shall have enough to do to match\nthat knight, for, by his stature, I believe it is Sir Lancelot or Sir\nTristram.\"\nAnon, they took their horses and galloped after Sir Lancelot; and Sir\nGilmere first assailed him, but was smitten down forthwith, and lay\nstunned on the earth. Then said Sir Reynold, \"Sir knight, thou art a\nstrong man, and, I believe, hast slain my two brothers, wherefore my\nheart is sore against thee; yet, if I might with honor, I would avoid\nthee. Nevertheless, that cannot be, so keep thyself.\" And so they\nhurtled together with all their might, and each man shivered his spear\nto pieces; and then they drew their swords and lashed out eagerly.\nAnd as they fought, Sir Gaunter and Sir Gilmere presently arose and\nmounted once again, and came down at full tilt upon Sir Lancelot. But,\nwhen he saw them coming, he put forth all his strength, and struck Sir\nReynold off his horse. Then, with two other strokes, he served the\nothers likewise.\nAnon, Sir Reynold crept along the ground, with his head all bloody, and\ncame towards Sir Lancelot. \"It is enough,\" said Lancelot, \"I was not far\nfrom thee when thou wast made a knight, Sir Reynold, and know thee for a\ngood and valiant man, and was full loth to slay thee.\"\n\"Gramercy for thy gentleness!\" said Sir Reynold. \"I and my brethren will\nstraightway yield to thee when we know thy name, for well we know that\nthou art not Sir Key.\"\n\"As for that,\" said Sir Lancelot, \"be it as it may, but ye shall yield\nto Queen Guinevere at the next Feast of Pentecost as prisoners, and say\nthat Sir Key sent ye.\"\nThen they swore to him it should be done as he commanded. And so Sir\nLancelot passed on, and the three brethren helped each other's wounds as\nbest they might.\nThen rode Sir Lancelot forward into a deep forest, and came upon four\nknights of King Arthur's court, under an oak tree--Sir Sagramour, Sir\nEctor, Sir Gawain, and Sir Ewaine. And when they spied him, they thought\nhe was Sir Key. \"Now by my faith,\" said Sir Sagramour, \"I will prove Sir\nKey's might!\" and taking his spear he rode towards Sir Lancelot.\nBut Sir Lancelot was aware of him, and, setting his spear in rest,\nsmote him so sorely, that horse and man fell to the earth.\n\"Lo!\" cried Sir Ector, \"I see by the buffet that knight hath given our\nfellow he is stronger than Sir Key. Now will I try what I can do against\nhim!\" So Sir Ector took his spear, and galloped at Sir Lancelot; and Sir\nLancelot met him as he came, and smote him through shield and shoulder,\nso that he fell, but his own spear was not broken.\n\"By my faith,\" cried Sir Ewaine, \"yonder is a strong knight, and must\nhave slain Sir Key, and taken his armor! By his strength, I see it will\nbe hard to match him.\" So saying he rode towards Sir Lancelot, who met\nhim halfway and struck him so fiercely, that at one blow he overthrew\nhim also.\n\"Now,\" said Sir Gawain, \"will I encounter him.\" So he took a good spear\nin his hand, and guarded himself with his shield. And he and Sir\nLancelot rode against each other, with their horses at full speed, and\nfuriously smote each other on the middle of their shields; but Sir\nGawain's spear broke short asunder, and Sir Lancelot charged so mightily\nupon him, that his horse and he both fell, and rolled upon the ground.\n\"Ah,\" said Sir Lancelot, smiling, as he rode away from the four knights,\n\"heaven give joy to him who made this spear, for never held I better in\nmy hand.\"\nBut the four knights said to each other, \"Truly one spear hath felled us\nall.\"\n\"I dare lay my life,\" said Sir Gawain, \"it is Sir Lancelot. I know him\nby his riding.\"\nSo they all departed for the court.\nAnd as Sir Lancelot rode still in the forest, he saw a black bloodhound,\nrunning with its head towards the ground, as if it tracked a deer. And\nfollowing after it, he came to a great pool of blood. But the hound,\never and anon looking behind, ran through a great marsh, and over a\nbridge, towards an old manor house. So Sir Lancelot followed, and went\ninto the hall, and saw a dead knight lying there, whose wounds the hound\nlicked. And a lady stood behind him, weeping and wringing her hands, who\ncried, \"O knight! too great is the sorrow which thou hast brought me!\"\n\"Why say ye so?\" replied Sir Lancelot; \"for I never harmed this knight,\nand am full sorely grieved to see thy sorrow.\"\n\"Nay, sir,\" said the lady, \"I see it is not thou hast slain my husband,\nfor he that truly did that deed is deeply wounded, and shall never more\nrecover.\"\n\"What is thy husband's name?\" said Sir Lancelot.\n\"His name,\" she answered, \"was Sir Gilbert--one of the best knights in\nall the world; but I know not his name who hath slain him.\"\n\"God send thee comfort,\" said Sir Lancelot, and departed again into the\nforest.\nAnd as he rode, he met with a damsel who knew him, who cried out, \"Well\nfound, my lord! I pray ye of your knighthood help my brother, who is\nsore wounded and ceases not to bleed, for he fought this day with Sir\nGilbert, and slew him, but was himself well nigh slain. And there is a\nsorceress, who dwelleth in a castle hard by, and she this day hath told\nme that my brother's wound shall never be made whole until I find a\nknight to go into the Chapel Perilous, and bring from thence a sword and\nthe bloody cloth in which the wounded knight was wrapped.\"\n\"This is a marvelous thing!\" said Sir Lancelot; \"but what is your\nbrother's name?\"\n\"His name, sir,\" she replied, \"is Sir Meliot de Logres.\"\n\"He is a Fellow of the Round Table,\" said Sir Lancelot, \"and truly will\nI do my best to help him.\"\n\"Then, sir,\" said she, \"follow this way, and it will bring ye to the\nChapel Perilous. I will abide here till God send ye hither again; for if\nye speed not, there is no living knight who may achieve that adventure.\"\nSo Sir Lancelot departed, and when he came to the Chapel Perilous he\nalighted, and tied his horse to the gate. And as soon as he was within\nthe churchyard, he saw on the front of the chapel many shields of\nknights whom he had known, turned upside down. Then saw he in the\npathway thirty mighty knights, taller than any men whom he had ever\nseen, all armed in black armor, with their swords drawn; and they\ngnashed their teeth upon him as he came. But he put his shield before\nhim, and took his sword in hand, ready to do battle with them. And when\nhe would have cut his way through them, they scattered on every side and\nlet him pass. Then he went into the chapel, and saw therein no light but\nof a dim lamp burning. Then he was aware of a corpse in the midst of the\nchapel, covered with a silken cloth, and so stooped down and cut off a\npiece of the cloth, whereat the earth beneath him trembled. Then saw he\na sword lying by the dead knight, and taking it in his hand, he hied him\nfrom the chapel. As soon as he was in the churchyard again, all the\nthirty knights cried out to him with fierce voices, \"Sir Lancelot! lay\nthat sword from thee, or thou diest!\"\n\"Whether I live or die,\" said he, \"ye shall fight for it ere ye take it\nfrom me.\"\nWith that they let him pass.\nAnd further on, beyond the chapel, he met a fair damsel, who said, \"Sir\nLancelot, leave that sword behind thee, or thou diest.\"\n\"I will not leave it,\" said Sir Lancelot, \"for any asking.\"\n\"Then, gentle knight,\" said the damsel, \"I pray thee kiss me once.\"\n\"Nay,\" said Sir Lancelot, \"that God forbid!\"\n\"Alas!\" cried she, \"I have lost all my labor! but hadst thou kissed me,\nthy life's days had been all done!\"\n\"Heaven save me from thy subtle crafts!\" said Sir Lancelot; and\ntherewith took his horse and galloped forth.\nAnd when he was departed, the damsel sorrowed greatly, and died in\nfifteen days. Her name was Ellawes, the sorceress.\nThen came Sir Lancelot to Sir Meliot's sister, who, when she saw him,\nclapped her hands and wept for joy, and took him to the castle hard by,\nwhere Sir Meliot was. And when Sir Lancelot saw Sir Meliot, he knew him,\nthough he was pale as ashes for loss of blood. And Sir Meliot, when he\nsaw Sir Lancelot, kneeled to him and cried aloud, \"O lord, Sir Lancelot!\nhelp me!\"\nAnd thereupon, Sir Lancelot went to him and touched his wounds with the\nsword, and wiped them with the piece of bloody cloth. And immediately he\nwas as whole as though he had been never wounded. Then was there great\njoy between him and Sir Meliot; and his sister made Sir Lancelot good\ncheer. So on the morrow, he took his leave, that he might go to King\nArthur's court, \"for,\" said he, \"it draweth nigh the Feast of Pentecost,\nand there, by God's grace, shall ye then find me.\"\nAnd riding through many strange countries, over marshes and valleys, he\ncame at length before a castle. As he passed by he heard two little\nbells ringing, and looking up, he saw a falcon flying overhead, with\nbells tied to her feet, and long strings dangling from them. And as the\nfalcon flew past an elm-tree, the strings caught in the boughs, so that\nshe could fly no further.\nIn the meanwhile, came a lady from the castle, and cried, \"Oh, Sir\nLancelot! as thou art the flower of all knights in the world, help me to\nget my hawk, for she hath slipped away from me, and if she be lost, my\nlord my husband is so hasty, he will surely slay me!\"\n\"What is thy lord's name?\" said Sir Lancelot.\n\"His name,\" said she, \"is Sir Phelot, a knight of the King of\nNorthgales.\"\n\"Fair lady,\" said Sir Lancelot, \"since you know my name, and require me,\non my knighthood, to help you, I will do what I can to get your hawk.\"\nAnd thereupon alighting, he tied his horse to the same tree, and prayed\nthe lady to unarm him. So when he was unarmed, he climbed up and reached\nthe falcon, and threw it to the lady.\nThen suddenly came down, out of the wood, her husband, Sir Phelot, all\narmed, with a drawn sword in his hand, and said, \"Oh, Sir Lancelot! now\nhave I found thee as I would have thee!\" and stood at the trunk of the\ntree to slay him.\n\"Ah, lady!\" cried Sir Lancelot, \"why have ye betrayed me?\"\n\"She hath done as I commanded her,\" said Sir Phelot, \"and thine hour is\ncome that thou must die.\"\n\"It were shame,\" said Lancelot, \"for an armed to slay an unarmed man.\"\n\"Thou hast no other favor from me,\" said Sir Phelot.\n\"Alas!\" cried Sir Lancelot, \"that ever any knight should die\nweaponless!\" And looking overhead, he saw a great bough without leaves,\nand wrenched it off the tree, and suddenly leaped down. Then Sir Phelot\nstruck at him eagerly, thinking to have slain him, but Sir Lancelot put\naside the stroke with the bough, and therewith smote him on the side of\nthe head, till he fell swooning to the ground. And tearing his sword\nfrom out his hands, he shore his neck through from the body. Then did\nthe lady shriek dismally, and swooned as though she would die. But Sir\nLancelot put on his armor, and with haste took his horse and departed\nthence, thanking God he had escaped that peril.\nAnd as he rode through a valley, among many wild ways, he saw a knight,\nwith a drawn sword, chasing a lady to slay her. And seeing Sir Lancelot,\nshe cried and prayed to him to come and rescue her.\nAt that he went up, saying, \"Fie on thee, knight! why wilt thou slay\nthis lady? Thou doest shame to thyself and all knights.\"\n\"What hast thou to do between me and my wife?\" replied the knight. \"I\nwill slay her in spite of thee.\"\n\"Thou shalt not harm her,\" said Lancelot, \"till we have first fought\ntogether.\"\n\"Sir,\" answered the knight, \"thou doest ill, for this lady hath betrayed\nme.\"\n\"He speaketh falsely,\" said the lady, \"for he is jealous of me without\ncause, as I shall answer before Heaven; but as thou art named the most\nworshipful knight in the world, I pray thee of thy true knighthood to\nsave me, for he is without mercy.\"\n\"Be of good cheer,\" said Sir Lancelot; \"it shall not lie within his\npower to harm thee.\"\n\"Sir,\" said the knight, \"I will be ruled as ye will have me.\"\nSo Sir Lancelot rode between the knight and the lady. And when they had\nridden awhile, the knight cried out suddenly to Sir Lancelot to turn and\nsee what men they were who came riding after them; and while Sir\nLancelot, thinking not of treason, turned to look, the knight, with one\ngreat stroke, smote off the lady's head.\nThen was Sir Lancelot passing wroth, and cried, \"Thou traitor! Thou hast\nshamed me forever!\" and, alighting from his horse, he drew his sword to\nhave slain him instantly; but the knight fell on the ground and clasped\nSir Lancelot's knees, and cried out for mercy. \"Thou shameful knight,\"\nanswered Lancelot, \"thou mayest have no mercy, for thou showedst none,\ntherefore arise and fight with me.\"\n\"Nay,\" said the knight, \"I will not rise till thou dost grant me mercy.\"\n\"Now will I deal fairly by thee,\" said Sir Lancelot; \"I will unarm me to\nmy shirt, and have my sword only in my hand, and if thou canst slay me\nthou shalt be quit forever.\"\n\"That will I never do,\" said the knight.\n\"Then,\" answered Sir Lancelot, \"take this lady and the head, and bear it\nwith thee, and swear to me upon thy sword never to rest until thou\ncomest to Queen Guinevere.\"\n\"That will I do,\" said he.\n\"Now,\" said Sir Lancelot, \"tell me thy name.\"\n\"It is Pedivere,\" answered the knight.\n\"In a shameful hour wert thou born,\" said Sir Lancelot.\nSo Sir Pedivere departed, bearing with him the dead lady and her head.\nAnd when he came to Winchester, where the Queen was with King Arthur, he\ntold them all the truth; and afterwards did great and heavy penance\nmany years, and became an holy hermit.\nSo, two days before the Feast of Pentecost, Sir Lancelot returned to the\ncourt, and King Arthur was full glad of his coming. And when Sir Gawain,\nSir Ewaine, Sir Sagramour, and Sir Ector, saw him in Sir Key's armor,\nthey knew well it was he who had smitten them all down with one spear.\nAnon, came all the knights Sir Turquine had taken prisoners, and gave\nworship and honor to Sir Lancelot. Then Sir Key told the King how Sir\nLancelot had rescued him when he was in near danger of his death; \"and,\"\nsaid Sir Key, \"he made the knights yield, not to himself, but me. And by\nHeaven! because Sir Lancelot took my armor and left me his, I rode in\npeace, and no man would have aught to do with me.\" Then came the knights\nwho fought with Sir Lancelot at the long bridge and yielded themselves\nalso to Sir Key, but he said nay, he had not fought with them. \"It is\nSir Lancelot,\" said he, \"that overcame ye.\" Next came Sir Meliot de\nLogres, and told King Arthur how Sir Lancelot had saved him from death.\nAnd so all Sir Lancelot's deeds and great adventures were made known;\nhow the four sorceress-queens had him in prison; how he was delivered by\nthe daughter of King Bagdemagus, and what deeds of arms he did at the\ntournament between the King of North Wales and King Bagdemagus. And so,\nat that festival, Sir Lancelot had the greatest name of any knight in\nall the world, and by high and low was he the most honored of all men.\nXI\nTHE ADVENTURES OF SIR BEAUMAINS OR SIR GARETH\nAgain King Arthur held the Feast of Pentecost, with all the Table Round,\nand after his custom sat in the banquet hall, before beginning meat,\nwaiting for some adventure. Then came there to the king a squire and\nsaid, \"Lord, now may ye go to meat, for here a damsel cometh with some\nstrange adventure.\" So the king was glad, and sat down to meat.\nAnon the damsel came in and saluted him, praying him for succor. \"What\nwilt thou?\" said the king. \"Lord,\" answered she, \"my mistress is a lady\nof great renown, but is at this time besieged by a tyrant, who will not\nsuffer her to go out of her castle; and because here in thy court the\nknights are called the noblest in the world, I come to pray thee for thy\nsuccor.\" \"Where dwelleth your lady?\" answered the king. \"What is her\nname, and who is he that hath besieged her?\" \"For her name,\" replied the\ndamsel, \"as yet I may not tell it; but she is a lady of worship and\ngreat lands. The tyrant that besiegeth her and wasteth her lands is\ncalled the Red Knight of the Redlands.\" \"I know him not,\" said Arthur.\n\"But I know him, lord,\" said Sir Gawain, \"and he is one of the most\nperilous knights in all the world. Men say he hath the strength of\nseven; and from him I myself once hardly escaped with life.\" \"Fair\ndamsel,\" said the king, \"there be here many knights that would gladly do\ntheir uttermost to rescue your lady, but unless ye tell me her name, and\nwhere she dwelleth, none of my knights shall go with you by my leave.\"\nNow, there was a stripling at the court called Beaumains, who served in\nthe king's kitchen, a fair youth and of great stature. Twelve months\nbefore this time he had come to the king as he sat at meat, at\nWhitsuntide, and prayed three gifts of him. And being asked what gifts,\nhe answered, \"As for the first gift I will ask it now, but the other two\ngifts I will ask on this day twelve months, wheresoever ye hold your\nhigh feast.\" Then said King Arthur, \"What is thy first request?\" \"This,\nlord,\" said he, \"that thou wilt give me meat and drink enough for twelve\nmonths from this time, and then will I ask my other two gifts.\" And the\nking seeing that he was a goodly youth, and deeming that he was come of\nhonorable blood, had granted his desire, and given him into the charge\nof Sir Key, the steward. But Sir Key scorned and mocked the youth,\ncalling Beaumains, because his hands were large and fair, and putting\nhim into the kitchen, where he had served for twelve months as a\nscullion, and, in spite of all his churlish treatment, had faithfully\nobeyed Sir Key. But Sir Lancelot and Sir Gawain were angered when they\nsaw Sir Key so churlish to a youth that had so worshipful a bearing,\nand ofttimes had they given him gold and clothing.\nAnd now at this time came young Beaumains to the king, while the damsel\nwas there, and said, \"Lord, now I thank thee well and heartily that I\nhave been twelve months kept in thy kitchen, and have had full\nsustenance. Now will I ask my two remaining gifts.\" \"Ask,\" said King\nArthur, \"on my good faith.\" \"These, lord,\" said he, \"shall be my two\ngifts--the one, that thou wilt grant me this adventure of the damsel,\nfor to me of right it belongeth; and the other, that thou wilt bid Sir\nLancelot make me a knight, for of him only will I have that honor; and I\npray that he may ride after me and make me a knight when I require him.\"\n\"Be it as thou wilt,\" replied the king. But thereupon the damsel was\nfull wroth, and said, \"Shall I have a kitchen page for this adventure?\"\nand so she took horse and departed.\nThen came one to Beaumains, and told him that a dwarf with a horse and\narmor were waiting for him. And all men marveled whence these things\ncame. But when he was on horseback and armed, scarce any one at the\ncourt was a goodlier man than he. And coming into the hall, he took his\nleave of the king and Sir Gawain, and prayed Sir Lancelot to follow him.\nSo he rode after the damsel, and many of the court went out to see him,\nso richly arrayed and horsed; yet he had neither shield nor spear. Then\nSir Key cried, \"I also will ride after the kitchen boy, and see whether\nhe will obey me now.\" And taking his horse, he rode after him, and\nsaid, \"Know ye not me, Beaumains?\" \"Yea,\" said he, \"I know thee for an\nungentle knight, therefore beware of me.\" Then Sir Key put his spear in\nrest and ran at him, but Beaumains rushed upon him with his sword in his\nhand, and therewith, putting aside the spear, struck Sir Key so sorely\nin the side, that he fell down, as if dead. Then he alighted, and took\nhis shield and spear, and bade his dwarf ride upon Sir Key's horse.\nBy this time, Sir Lancelot had come up, and Beaumains offering to tilt\nwith him, they both made ready. And their horses came together so\nfiercely that both fell to the earth, full sorely bruised. Then they\narose, and Beaumains, putting up his shield before him, offered to fight\nSir Lancelot, on foot. So they rushed upon each other, striking, and\nthrusting, and parrying, for the space of an hour. And Lancelot marveled\nat the strength of Beaumains, for he fought more like a giant than a\nman, and his fighting was passing fierce and terrible. So, at the last,\nhe said, \"Fight not so sorely, Beaumains; our quarrel is not such that\nwe may not now cease.\" \"True,\" answered Beaumains; \"yet it doth me good\nto feel thy might, though I have not yet proved my uttermost.\" \"By my\nfaith,\" said Lancelot, \"I had as much as I could do to save myself from\nyou unshamed, therefore be in no doubt of any earthly knight.\" \"May I,\nthen, stand as a proved knight?\" said Beaumains. \"For that will I be thy\nwarrant,\" answered Lancelot. \"Then, I pray thee,\" said he, \"give me the\norder of knighthood.\" \"First, then, must thou tell me of thy name and\nkindred,\" said Sir Lancelot. \"If thou wilt tell them to no other, I will\ntell thee,\" answered he. \"My name is Gareth of Orkney, and I am own\nbrother to Sir Gawain.\" \"Ah!\" said Sir Lancelot, \"at that am I full\nglad; for, truly, I deemed thee to be of gentle blood.\" So then he\nknighted Beaumains, and, after that, they parted company, and Sir\nLancelot, returning to the court, took up Sir Key on his shield. And\nhardly did Sir Key escape with his life, from the wound Beaumains had\ngiven him; but all men blamed him for his ungentle treatment of so brave\na knight.\nThen Sir Beaumains rode forward, and soon overtook the damsel; but she\nsaid to him, in scorn, \"Return again, base kitchen page! What art thou,\nbut a washer-up of dishes!\" \"Damsel,\" said he, \"say to me what thou\nwilt, I will not leave thee; for I have undertaken to King Arthur to\nrelieve thy adventure, and I will finish it to the end, or die.\" \"Thou\nfinish my adventure!\" said she--\"anon, thou shalt meet one, whose face\nthou wilt not even dare to look at.\" \"I shall attempt it,\" answered he.\nSo, as they rode thus, into a wood, there met them a man, fleeing, as\nfor his life. \"Whither fleest thou?\" said Sir Beaumains. \"O lord!\" he\nanswered, \"help me; for, in a valley hard by, there are six thieves, who\nhave taken my lord, and bound him, and I fear will slay him.\" \"Bring me\nthither,\" said Sir Beaumains. So they rode to the place, and Sir\nBeaumains rushed after the thieves, and smote one, at the first stroke,\nso that he died; and then, with two other blows, slew a second and\nthird. Then fled the other three, and Sir Beaumains rode after them, and\novertook and slew them all. Then he returned and unbound the knight. And\nthe knight thanked him, and prayed him to ride to his castle, where he\nwould reward him. \"Sir,\" answered Sir Beaumains, \"I will have no reward\nof thee, for but this day was I made knight by the most noble Sir\nLancelot; and besides, I must go with this damsel.\" Then the knight\nbegged the damsel to rest that night at his castle. So they all rode\nthither, and ever the damsel scoffed at Sir Beaumains as a kitchen boy,\nand laughed at him before the knight their host, so that he set his meat\nbefore him at a lower table, as though he were not of their company.\nAnd on the morrow, the damsel and Sir Beaumains took their leave of the\nknight, and thanking him departed. Then they rode on their way till they\ncame to a great forest, through which flowed a river, and there was but\none passage over it, whereat stood two knights armed to hinder the way.\n\"Wilt thou match those two knights,\" said the damsel to Sir Beaumains,\n\"or return again?\" \"I would not return,\" said he, \"though they were\nsix.\" Therewith he galloped into the water, and swam his horse into the\nmiddle of the stream. And there, in the river, one of the knights met\nhim, and they brake their spears together, and then drew their swords,\nand smote fiercely at each other. And at the last, Sir Beaumains struck\nthe other mightily upon the helm, so that he fell down stunned into the\nwater, and was drowned. Then Sir Beaumains spurred his horse on to the\nland, where instantly the other knight fell on him. And they also brake\ntheir spears upon each other, and then drew their swords, and fought\nsavagely and long together. And after many blows, Sir Beaumains clove\nthrough the knight's skull down to the shoulders. Then rode Sir\nBeaumains to the damsel, but ever she still scoffed at him, and said,\n\"Alas! that a kitchen page should chance to slay two such brave knights!\nThou deemest now that thou hast done a mighty deed, but it is not so;\nfor the first knight's horse stumbled, and thus was he drowned--not by\nthy strength; and as for the second knight, thou wentest by chance\nbehind him, and didst kill him shamefully.\" \"Damsel,\" said Sir\nBeaumains, \"say what ye list, I care not so I may win your lady; and\nwouldst thou give me but fair language, all my care were past; for\nwhatsoever knights I meet, I fear them not.\" \"Thou shalt see knights\nthat shall abate thy boast, base kitchen knave,\" replied she; \"yet say I\nthis for thine advantage, for if thou followest me thou wilt be surely\nslain, since I see all thou doest is but by chance, and not by thy own\nprowess.\" \"Well, damsel,\" said he, \"say what ye will, wherever ye go I\nwill follow.\"\nSo they rode on until the eventide, and still the damsel evermore kept\nchiding Sir Beaumains. Then came they to a black space of land, whereon\nwas a black hawthorn tree, and on the tree there hung a black banner,\nand on the other side was a black shield and spear, and by them a great\nblack horse, covered with silk; and hard by sat a knight armed in black\narmor, whose name was the Knight of the Blacklands. When the damsel saw\nhim, she cried out to Beaumains, \"Flee down the valley, for thy horse is\nnot saddled!\" \"Wilt thou forever deem me coward?\" answered he. With that\ncame the Black Knight to the damsel, and said, \"Fair damsel, hast thou\nbrought this knight from Arthur's court to be thy champion?\" \"Not so,\nfair knight,\" said she; \"he is but a kitchen knave.\" \"Then wherefore\ncometh he in such array?\" said he; \"it is a shame that he should bear\nthee company.\" \"I cannot be delivered from him,\" answered she: \"for in\nspite of me he rideth with me; and would to Heaven you would put him\nfrom me, or now slay him, for he hath slain two knights at the river\npassage yonder, and done many marvelous deeds through pure mischance.\"\n\"I marvel,\" said the Black Knight, \"that any man of worship will fight\nwith him.\" \"They know him not,\" said the damsel, \"and think, because he\nrideth with me, that he is well born.\" \"Truly, he hath a goodly person,\nand is likely to be a strong man,\" replied the knight; \"but since he is\nno man of worship, he shall leave his horse and armor with me, for it\nwere a shame for me to do him more harm.\"\nWhen Sir Beaumains heard him speak thus, he said, \"Horse or armor\ngettest thou none of me, Sir knight, save thou winnest them with thy\nhands; therefore defend thyself, and let me see what thou canst do.\"\n\"How sayest thou?\" answered the Black Knight. \"Now quit this lady also,\nfor it beseemeth not a kitchen knave like thee to ride with such a\nlady.\" \"I am of higher lineage than thou,\" said Sir Beaumains, \"and will\nstraightway prove it on thy body.\" Then furiously they drove their\nhorses at each other, and came together as it had been thunder. But the\nBlack Knight's spear brake short, and Sir Beaumains thrust him through\nthe side, and his spear breaking at the head, left its point sticking\nfast in the Black Knight's body. Yet did the Black Knight draw his\nsword, and smite at Sir Beaumains with many fierce and bitter blows; but\nafter they had fought an hour and more, he fell down from his horse in a\nswoon, and forthwith died. Then Sir Beaumains lighted down and armed\nhimself in the Black Knight's armor, and rode on after the damsel. But\nnotwithstanding all his valor, still she scoffed at him, and said,\n\"Away! for thou savorest ever of the kitchen. Alas! that such a knave\nshould by mishap destroy so good a knight; yet once again I counsel thee\nto flee, for hard by is a knight who shall repay thee!\" \"It may chance\nthat I am beaten or slain,\" answered Sir Beaumains, \"but I warn thee,\nfair damsel, that I will not flee away, nor leave thy company, or my\nquest, for all that ye can say.\"\nAnon, as they rode, they saw a knight come swiftly towards them, dressed\nall in green, who, calling to the damsel said, \"Is that my brother, the\nBlack Knight, that ye have brought with you?\" \"Nay, and alas!\" said she,\n\"this kitchen knave hath slain thy brother through mischance.\" \"Alas!\"\nsaid the Green Knight, \"that such a noble knight as he was should be\nslain by a knave's hand. Traitor!\" cried he to Sir Beaumains, \"thou\nshalt die for this! Sir Pereard was my brother, and a full noble\nknight.\" \"I defy thee,\" said Sir Beaumains, \"for I slew him knightly and\nnot shamefully.\" Then the Green Knight rode to a thorn whereon hung a\ngreen horn, and, when he blew three notes, there came three damsels\nforth, who quickly armed him, and brought him a great horse and a green\nshield and spear. Then did they run at one another with their fullest\nmight, and break their spears asunder; and, drawing their swords, they\nclosed in fight, and sorely smote and wounded each other with many\ngrievous blows.\nAt last, Sir Beaumains' horse jostled against the Green Knight's horse,\nand overthrew him. Then both alighted, and, hurtling together like mad\nlions, fought a great while on foot. But the damsel cheered the Green\nKnight, and said, \"My lord, why wilt thou let a kitchen knave so long\nstand up against thee?\" Hearing these words, he was ashamed, and gave\nSir Beaumains such a mighty stroke as clave his shield asunder. When Sir\nBeaumains heard the damsel's words, and felt that blow, he waxed passing\nwroth, and gave the Green Knight such a buffet on the helm that he fell\non his knees, and with another blow Sir Beaumains threw him on the\nground. Then the Green Knight yielded, and prayed him to spare his life.\n\"All thy prayers are vain,\" said he, \"unless this damsel who came with\nme pray for thee.\" \"That will I never do, base kitchen knave,\" said she.\n\"Then shall he die,\" said Beaumains. \"Alas! fair lady,\" said the Green\nKnight, \"suffer me not to die for a word! O, Sir knight,\" cried he to\nBeaumains, \"give me my life, and I will ever do thee homage; and thirty\nknights, who owe me service, shall give allegiance to thee.\" \"All\navaileth not,\" answered Sir Beaumains, \"unless the damsel ask me for thy\nlife\"; and thereupon he made as though he would have slain him. Then\ncried the damsel, \"Slay him not; for if thou do thou shalt repent it.\"\n\"Damsel,\" said Sir Beaumains, \"at thy command, he shall obtain his life.\nArise, Sir knight of the green armor, I release thee!\" Then the Green\nKnight knelt at his feet, and did him homage with his words. \"Lodge with\nme this night,\" said he, \"and to-morrow will I guide ye through the\nforest.\" So, taking their horses, they rode to his castle, which was\nhard by.\nYet still did the damsel rebuke and scoff at Sir Beaumains, and would\nnot suffer him to sit at her table. \"I marvel,\" said the Green Knight to\nher, \"that ye thus chide so noble a knight, for truly I know none to\nmatch him; and be sure, that whatsoever he appeareth now, he will prove,\nat the end, of noble blood and royal lineage.\" But of all this would the\ndamsel take no heed, and ceased not to mock at Sir Beaumains. On the\nmorrow, they arose and heard mass; and when they had broken their fast,\ntook their horses and rode on their way, the Green Knight conveying them\nthrough the forest. Then, when he had led them for a while, he said to\nSir Beaumains, \"My lord, my thirty knights and I shall always be at thy\ncommand whensoever thou shalt send for us.\" \"It is well said,\" replied\nhe; \"and when I call upon you, you shall yield yourself and all your\nknights unto King Arthur.\" \"That will we gladly do,\" said the Green\nKnight, and so departed.\nAnd the damsel rode on before Sir Beaumains, and said to him, \"Why dost\nthou follow me, thou kitchen boy? I counsel thee to throw aside thy\nspear and shield, and flee betimes, for wert thou as mighty as Sir\nLancelot or Sir Tristram, thou shouldest not pass a valley near this\nplace, called the Pass Perilous.\" \"Damsel,\" answered he, \"let him that\nfeareth flee; as for me, it were indeed a shameful thing to turn after\nso long a journey.\" As he spake, they came upon a tower as white as\nsnow, with mighty battlements, and double moats round it, and over the\ntower-gate hung fifty shields of divers colors. Before the tower walls,\nthey saw a fair meadow, wherein were many knights and squires in\npavilions, for on the morrow there was a tournament at that castle.\nThen the lord of the castle, seeing a knight armed at all points, with a\ndamsel and a page, riding towards the tower, came forth to meet them;\nand his horse and harness, with his shield and spear, were all of a red\ncolor. When he came near Sir Beaumains, and saw his armor all of black,\nhe thought him his own brother, the Black Knight, and so cried aloud,\n\"Brother! what do ye here, within these borders?\" \"Nay!\" said the\ndamsel, \"it is not thy brother, but a kitchen knave of Arthur's court,\nwho hath slain thy brother, and overcome thy other brother also, the\nGreen Knight.\" \"Now do I defy thee!\" cried the Red Knight to Sir\nBeaumains, and put his spear in rest and spurred his horse. Then both\nknights turned back a little space, and ran together with all their\nmight, till their horses fell to the earth. Then, with their swords,\nthey fought fiercely for the space of three hours. And at last, Sir\nBeaumains overcame his foe, and smote him to the ground. Then the Red\nKnight prayed his mercy, and said, \"Slay me not, noble knight, and I\nwill yield to thee with sixty knights that do my bidding.\" \"All avails\nnot,\" answered Sir Beaumains, \"save this damsel pray me to release\nthee.\" Then did he lift his sword to slay him; but the damsel cried\naloud, \"Slay him not, Beaumains, for he is a noble knight.\" Then Sir\nBeaumains bade him rise up and thank the damsel, which straightway he\ndid, and afterwards invited them to his castle, and made them goodly\ncheer.\nBut notwithstanding all Sir Beaumains' mighty deeds, the damsel ceased\nnot to revile and chide him, at which the Red Knight marveled much; and\ncaused his sixty knights to watch Sir Beaumains, that no villainy might\nhappen to him. And on the morrow, they heard mass and broke their fast,\nand the Red Knight came before Sir Beaumains, with his sixty knights,\nand proffered him homage and fealty. \"I thank thee,\" answered he; \"and\nwhen I call upon thee thou shalt come before my lord King Arthur at his\ncourt, and yield yourselves to him.\" \"That will we surely do,\" said the\nRed Knight. So Sir Beaumains and the damsel departed.\nAnd as she constantly reviled him and tormented him, he said to her,\n\"Damsel, ye are discourteous thus always to rebuke me, for I have done\nyou service; and for all your threats of knights that shall destroy me,\nall they who come lie in the dust before me. Now, therefore, I pray you\nrebuke me no more till you see me beaten or a recreant, and then bid me\ngo from you.\" \"There shall soon meet thee a knight who shall repay thee\nall thy deeds, thou boaster,\" answered she, \"for, save King Arthur, he\nis the man of most worship in the world.\" \"It will be the greater honor\nto encounter him,\" said Sir Beaumains.\nSoon after, they saw before them a city passing fair, and between them\nand the city was a meadow newly mown, wherein were many goodly tents.\n\"Seest thou yonder blue pavilion?\" said the damsel to Sir Beaumains; \"it\nis Sir Perseant's, the lord of that great city, whose custom is, in all\nfair weather, to lie in this meadow, and joust with his knights.\"\nAnd as she spake, Sir Perseant, who had espied them coming, sent a\nmessenger to meet Sir Beaumains, and to ask him if he came in war or\npeace. \"Say to thy lord,\" he answered, \"that I care not whether of the\ntwain it be.\" So when the messenger gave this reply, Sir Perseant came\nout to fight with Sir Beaumains. And making ready, they rode their\nsteeds against each other; and when their spears were shivered asunder,\nthey fought with their swords. And for more than two hours did they\nhack and hew at each other, till their shields and hauberks were all\ndented with many blows, and they themselves were sorely wounded. And at\nthe last, Sir Beaumains smote Sir Perseant on the helm, so that he fell\ngroveling on the earth. And when he unlaced his helm to slay him, the\ndamsel prayed for his life. \"That will I grant gladly,\" answered Sir\nBeaumains, \"for it were pity such a noble knight should die.\"\n\"Gramercy!\" said Sir Perseant, \"for now I certainly know that it was\nthou who slewest my brother, the Black Knight, Sir Pereard; and overcame\nmy brothers, the Green Knight, Sir Pertolope, and the Red Knight, Sir\nPerimones; and since thou hast overcome me also, I will do thee homage\nand fealty, and place at thy command one hundred knights to do thy\nbidding.\"\nBut when the damsel saw Sir Perseant overthrown, she marveled greatly at\nthe might of Sir Beaumains, and said, \"What manner of man may ye be, for\nnow am I sure that ye be come of noble blood? And truly, never did woman\nrevile knight as I have done thee, and yet ye have ever courteously\nborne with me, which surely never had been were ye not of gentle blood\nand lineage.\"\n\"Lady,\" replied Sir Beaumains, \"a knight is little worth who may not\nbear with a damsel; and so whatsoever ye said to me I took no heed, save\nonly that at times when your scorn angered me, it made me all the\nstronger against those with whom I fought, and thus have ye furthered me\nin my battles. But whether I be born of gentle blood or no, I have done\nyou gentle service, and peradventure will do better still, ere I depart\nfrom you.\"\n\"Alas!\" said she, weeping at his courtesy, \"forgive me, fair Sir\nBeaumains, all that I have missaid and misdone against you.\" \"With all\nmy heart,\" said he; \"and since you now speak fairly to me, I am passing\nglad of heart, and methinks I have the strength to overcome whatever\nknights I shall henceforth encounter.\"\nThen Sir Perseant prayed them to come to his pavilion, and set before\nthem wines and spices, and made them great cheer. So they rested that\nnight; and on the morrow, the damsel and Sir Beaumains rose, and heard\nmass. And when they had broken their fast, they took their leave of Sir\nPerseant. \"Fair damsel,\" said he, \"whither lead ye this knight?\" \"Sir,\"\nanswered she, \"to the Castle Dangerous, where my sister is besieged by\nthe Knight of the Redlands.\" \"I know him well,\" said Sir Perseant, \"for\nthe most perilous knight alive--a man without mercy, and with the\nstrength of seven men. God save thee, Sir Beaumains, from him! and\nenable thee to overcome him, for the Lady Lyones, whom he besiegeth, is\nas fair a lady as there liveth in this world.\" \"Thou sayest truth, sir,\"\nsaid the damsel; \"for I am her sister; and men call me Linet, or the\nWild Maiden.\" \"Now, I would have thee know,\" said Sir Perseant to Sir\nBeaumains, \"that the Knight of the Redlands hath kept that siege more\nthan two years, and prolongeth the time hoping that Sir Lancelot, or Sir\nTristram, or Sir Lamoracke, may come and battle with him; for these\nthree knights divide between them all knighthood; and thou if thou\nmayest match the Knight of the Redlands, shalt well be called the fourth\nknight of the world.\" \"Sir,\" said Sir Beaumains, \"I would fain have that\ngood fame; and truly, I am come of great and honorable lineage. And so\nthat you and this fair damsel will conceal it, I will tell ye my\ndescent.\" And when they swore to keep it secret, he told them, \"My name\nis Sir Gareth of Orkney, my father was King Lot, and my mother the Lady\nBelisent, King Arthur's sister. Sir Gawain, Sir Agravain, and Sir\nGaheris, are my brethren, and I am the youngest of them all. But, as yet\nKing Arthur and the court know me not, who I am.\" When he had thus told\nthem, they both wondered greatly.\nAnd the damsel Linet sent the dwarf forward to her sister, to tell her\nof their coming. Then did Dame Lyones inquire what manner of man the\nknight was who was coming to her rescue. And the dwarf told her of all\nSir Beaumains' deeds by the way: how he had overthrown Sir Key, and left\nhim for dead; how he had battled with Sir Lancelot, and was knighted of\nhim; how he had fought with, and slain, the thieves; how he had overcome\nthe two knights who kept the river passage; how he had fought with, and\nslain, the Black Knight; and how he had overcome the Green Knight, the\nRed Knight, and last of all, the Blue Knight, Sir Perseant. Then was\nDame Lyones passing glad, and sent the dwarf back to Sir Beaumains with\ngreat gifts, thanking him for his courtesy, in taking such a labor on\nhim for her sake, and praying him to be of good heart and courage. And\nas the dwarf returned, he met the Knight of the Redlands, who asked him\nwhence he came. \"I came here with the sister of my lady of the castle,\"\nsaid the dwarf, \"who hath been now to King Arthur's court and brought a\nknight with her to take her battle on him.\" \"Then is her travail lost,\"\nreplied the knight; \"for, though she had brought Sir Lancelot, Sir\nTristram, Sir Lamoracke, or Sir Gawain, I count myself their equal, and\nwho besides shall be so called?\" Then the dwarf told the knight what\ndeeds Sir Beaumains had done; but he answered, \"I care not for him,\nwhosoever he be, for I shall shortly overcome him, and give him shameful\ndeath, as to so many others I have done.\"\nThen the damsel Linet and Sir Beaumains left Sir Perseant, and rode on\nthrough a forest to a large plain, where they saw many pavilions, and\nhard by, a castle passing fair.\nBut as they came near Sir Beaumains saw upon the branches of some trees\nwhich grew there, the dead bodies of forty knights hanging, with rich\narmor on them, their shields and swords about their necks, and golden\nspurs upon their heels. \"What meaneth this?\" said he, amazed. \"Lose not\nthy courage, fair sir,\" replied the damsel, \"at this shameful sight, for\nall these knights came hither to rescue my sister; and when the Knight\nof the Redlands had overcome them, he put them to this piteous death,\nwithout mercy; and in such wise will he treat thee also unless thou\nbearest thee more valiantly than they.\" \"Truly he useth shameful\ncustoms,\" said Sir Beaumains; \"and it is a marvel that he hath endured\nso long.\"\nSo they rode onward to the castle walls, and found them double-moated,\nand heard the sea waves dashing on one side the walls. Then said the\ndamsel, \"See you that ivory horn hanging upon the sycamore-tree? The\nKnight of the Redlands hath hung it there, that any knight may blow\nthereon, and then will he himself come out and fight with him. But I\npray thee sound it not till high noontide, for now it is but daybreak,\nand till noon his strength increases to the might of seven men.\" \"Let\nthat be as it may, fair damsel,\" answered he, \"for were he stronger\nknight than ever lived, I would not fail him. Either will I defeat him\nat his mightiest, or die knightly in the field.\" With that he spurred\nhis horse unto the sycamore, and blew the ivory horn so eagerly, that\nall the castle rang its echoes. Instantly, all the knights who were in\nthe pavilions ran forth, and those within the castle looked out from the\nwindows, or above the walls. And the Knight of the Redlands, arming\nhimself quickly in blood-red armor, with spear, and shield, and horse's\ntrappings of like color, rode forth into a little valley by the castle\nwalls, so that all in the castle, and at the siege, might see the\nbattle.\n\"Be of good cheer,\" said the damsel Linet to Sir Beaumains, \"for thy\ndeadly enemy now cometh; and at yonder window is my lady and sister,\nDame Lyones.\" \"In good sooth,\" said Sir Beaumains, \"she is the fairest\nlady I have ever seen, and I would wish no better quarrel than to fight\nfor her.\" With that, he looked up to the window, and saw the Lady\nLyones, who waved her handkerchief to her sister and to him to cheer\nthem. Then called the Knight of the Redlands to Sir Beaumains, \"Leave\nnow thy gazing, Sir knight, and turn to me, for I warn thee that lady is\nmine.\" \"She loveth none of thy fellowship,\" he answered; \"but know this,\nthat I love her, and will rescue her from thee, or die.\" \"Say ye so!\"\nsaid the Red Knight. \"Take ye no warning from those knights that hang on\nyonder trees?\" \"For shame that thou so boastest!\" said Sir Beaumains.\n\"Be sure that sight hath raised a hatred for thee that will not lightly\nbe put out, and given me not fear, but rage.\" \"Sir knight, defend\nthyself,\" said the Knight of the Redlands, \"for we will talk no longer.\"\nThen did they put their spears in rest, and came together at the fullest\nspeed of their horses, and smote each other in the midst of their\nshields, so that their horses' harness sundered by the shock, and they\nfell to the ground. And both lay there so long time, stunned, that many\ndeemed their necks were broken. And all men said the strange knight was\na strong man, and a noble jouster, for none had ever yet so matched the\nKnight of the Redlands. Then, in a while, they rose, and putting up\ntheir shields before them, drew their swords, and fought with fury,\nrunning at each other like wild beasts--now striking such buffets that\nboth reeled backwards, now hewing at each other till they shore the\nharness off in pieces, and left their bodies naked and unarmed. And thus\nthey fought till noon was past, when, for a time, they rested to get\nbreath, so sorely staggering and bleeding, that many who beheld them\nwept for pity. Then they renewed the battle--sometimes rushing so\nfuriously together, that both fell to the ground, and anon changing\nswords in their confusion. Thus they endured, and lashed, and struggled,\nuntil eventide, and none who saw knew which was the likeliest to win;\nfor though the Knight of the Redlands was a wily and subtle warrior, his\nsubtlety made Sir Beaumains wilier and wiser too. So once again they\nrested for a little space, and took their helms off to find breath.\nBut when Sir Beaumains' helm was off, he looked up to Dame Lyones, where\nshe leaned, gazing and weeping, from her window. And when he saw the\nsweetness of her smiling, all his heart was light and joyful, and\nstarting up, he bade the Knight of the Redlands make ready. Then did\nthey lace their helms and fight together yet afresh, as though they had\nnever fought before. And at the last, the Knight of the Redlands with a\nsudden stroke smote Sir Beaumains on the hand, so that his sword fell\nfrom it, and with a second stroke upon the helm he drove him to the\nearth. Then cried aloud the damsel Linet, \"Alas! Sir Beaumains, see how\nmy sister weepeth to behold thee fallen!\" And when Sir Beaumains heard\nher words, he sprang upon his feet with strength, and leaping to his\nsword, he caught it; and with many heavy blows pressed so sorely on the\nKnight of the Redlands, that in the end he smote his sword from out his\nhand, and, with a mighty blow upon the head, hurled him upon the ground.\nThen Sir Beaumains unlaced his helm, and would have straightway slain\nhim, but the Knight of the Redlands yielded, and prayed for mercy. \"I\nmay not spare thee,\" answered he, \"because of the shameful death which\nthou hast given to so many noble knights.\" \"Yet hold thy hand, Sir\nknight,\" said he, \"and hear the cause. I loved once a fair damsel, whose\nbrother was slain, as she told me, by a knight of Arthur's court, either\nSir Lancelot, or Sir Gawain; and she prayed me, as I truly loved her,\nand by the faith of my knighthood, to labor daily in deeds of arms, till\nI should meet with him; and to put all knights of the Round Table whom I\nshould overcome to a villainous death. And this I swore to her.\" Then\nprayed the earls, and knights, and barons, who stood round Sir\nBeaumains, to spare the Red Knight's life. \"Truly,\" replied he, \"I am\nloth to slay him, notwithstanding he hath done such shameful deeds. And\ninasmuch as what he did was done to please his lady and to gain her\nlove, I blame him less, and for your sakes I will release him. But on\nthis agreement only shall he hold his life--that straightway he depart\ninto the castle, and yield him to the lady there, and make her such\namends as she shall ask, for all the trespass he hath done upon her\nlands; and afterwards, that he shall go unto King Arthur's court, and\nask the pardon of Sir Lancelot and Sir Gawain for all the evil he hath\ndone against them.\" \"All this, Sir knight, I swear to do,\" said the\nKnight of the Redlands; and therewith he did him homage and fealty.\nThen came the damsel Linet to Sir Beaumains and the Knight of the\nRedlands, and disarmed them, and staunched their wounds. And when the\nKnight of the Redlands had made amends for all his trespasses, he\ndeparted for the court.\nThen Sir Beaumains, being healed of his wounds, armed himself, and took\nhis horse and spear and rode straight to the castle of Dame Lyones, for\ngreatly he desired to see her. But when he came to the gate they closed\nit fast, and pulled the drawbridge up. And as he marveled thereat, he\nsaw the Lady Lyones standing at a window, who said, \"Go thy way as yet,\nSir Beaumains, for thou shalt not wholly have my love until thou be\namong the worthiest knights of all the world. Go, therefore, and labor\nyet in arms for twelve months more, and then return to me.\" \"Alas! fair\nlady,\" said Sir Beaumains, \"I have scarce deserved this of thee, for\nsure I am that I have bought thy love with all the best blood in my\nbody.\" \"Be not aggrieved, fair knight,\" said she, \"for none of thy\nservice is forgot or lost. Twelve months will soon be passed in noble\ndeeds; and trust that to my death I shall love thee and not another.\"\nWith that she turned and left the window.\nSo Sir Beaumains rode away from the castle very sorrowful at heart, and\nrode he knew not whither, and lay that night in a poor man's cottage.\nOn the morrow he went forward, and came at noon to a broad lake, and\nthereby he alighted, being very sad and weary, and rested his head upon\nhis shield, and told his dwarf to keep watch while he slept.\nNow, as soon as he had departed, the Lady Lyones repented, and greatly\nlonged to see him back, and asked her sister many times of what lineage\nhe was; but the damsel would not tell her, being bound by her oath to\nSir Beaumains, and said his dwarf best knew. So she called Sir\nGringamors, her brother, who dwelt with her, and prayed him to ride\nafter Sir Beaumains till he found him sleeping, and then to take his\ndwarf away and bring him back to her. Anon Sir Gringamors departed, and\nrode till he came to Sir Beaumains, and found him as he lay sleeping by\nthe water-side. Then stepping stealthily behind the dwarf he caught him\nin his arms and rode off in haste. And though the dwarf cried loudly to\nhis lord for help, and woke Sir Beaumains, yet, though he rode full\nquickly after him, he could not overtake Sir Gringamors.\nWhen Dame Lyones saw her brother come back, she was passing glad of\nheart, and forthwith asked the dwarf his master's lineage. \"He is a\nking's son,\" said the dwarf, \"and his mother is King Arthur's sister.\nHis name is Sir Gareth of Orkney, and he is brother to the good knight,\nSir Gawain. But I pray you suffer me to go back to my lord, for truly he\nwill never leave this country till he have me again.\" But when the Lady\nLyones knew her deliverer was come of such a kingly stock, she longed\nmore than ever to see him again.\nNow as Sir Beaumains rode in vain to rescue his dwarf, he came to a fair\ngreen road and met a poor man of the country, and asked him had he seen\na knight on a black horse, riding with a dwarf of a sad countenance\nbehind him. \"Yea,\" said the man, \"I met with such a knight an hour\nagone, and his name is Sir Gringamors. He liveth at a castle two miles\nfrom hence; but he is a perilous knight, and I counsel ye not to follow\nhim save ye bear him goodwill.\" Then Sir Beaumains followed the path\nwhich the poor man showed him, and came to the castle. And riding to the\ngate in great anger, he drew his sword, and cried aloud, \"Sir\nGringamors, thou traitor! deliver me my dwarf again, or by my knighthood\nit shall be ill for thee!\" Then Sir Gringamors looked out of a window\nand said, \"Sir Gareth of Orkney, leave thy boasting words, for thou wilt\nnot get thy dwarf again.\" But the Lady Lyones said to her brother, \"Nay,\nbrother, but I will that he have his dwarf, for he hath done much for\nme, and delivered me from the Knight of the Redlands, and well do I love\nhim above all other knights.\" So Sir Gringamors went down to Sir Gareth\nand cried him mercy, and prayed him to alight and take good cheer.\nThen he alighted, and his dwarf ran to him. And when he was in the hall\ncame the Lady Lyones dressed royally like a princess. And Sir Gareth was\nright glad of heart when he saw her. Then she told him how she had made\nher brother take away his dwarf and bring him back to her. And then she\npromised him her love, and faithfully to cleave to him and none other\nall the days of her life. And so they plighted their troth to each\nother. Then Sir Gringamors prayed him to sojourn at the castle, which\nwilling he did. \"For,\" said he, \"I have promised to quit the court for\ntwelve months, though sure I am that in the meanwhile I shall be sought\nand found by my lord King Arthur and many others.\" So he sojourned long\nat the castle.\nAnon the knights, Sir Perseant, Sir Perimones, and Sir Pertolope, whom\nSir Gareth had overthrown, went to King Arthur's court with all the\nknights who did them service, and told the king they had been conquered\nby a knight of his named Beaumains. And as they yet were talking, it was\ntold the king there came another great lord with five hundred knights,\nwho, entering in, did homage, and declared himself to be the Knight of\nthe Redlands. \"But my true name,\" said he, \"is Ironside, and I am hither\nsent by one Sir Beaumains, who conquered me, and charged me to yield\nunto your grace.\" \"Thou art welcome,\" said King Arthur, \"for thou hast\nbeen long a foe to me and mine, and truly I am much beholden to the\nknight who sent thee. And now, Sir Ironside, if thou wilt amend thy life\nand hold of me, I will entreat thee as a friend, and make thee Knight of\nthe Round Table; but thou mayst no more be a murderer of noble knights.\"\nThen the Knight of the Redlands knelt to the king, and told him of his\npromise to Sir Beaumains to use never more such shameful customs; and\nhow he had so done but at the prayer of a lady whom he loved. Then knelt\nhe to Sir Lancelot and Sir Gawain, and prayed their pardon for the\nhatred he had borne them.\nBut the king and all the court marveled greatly who Sir Beaumains was.\n\"For,\" said the king, \"he is a full noble knight.\" Then said Sir\nLancelot, \"Truly he is come of honorable blood, else had I not given him\nthe order of knighthood; but he charged me that I should conceal his\nsecret.\"\nNow as they talked thus it was told King Arthur that his sister, the\nQueen of Orkney, was come to the court with a great retinue of knights\nand ladies. Then was there great rejoicing, and the king rose and\nsaluted his sister. And her sons, Sir Gawain, Sir Agravain, and Sir\nGaheris knelt before her and asked her blessing, for during fifteen\nyears last past they had not seen her. Anon she said, \"Where is my\nyoungest son, Sir Gareth? for I know that he was here a twelve-month\nwith you, and that ye made a kitchen knave of him.\" Then the king and\nall the knights knew that Sir Beaumains and Sir Gareth were the same.\n\"Truly,\" said the king, \"I knew him not.\" \"Nor I,\" said Sir Gawain and\nboth his brothers. Then said the king, \"God be thanked, fair sister,\nthat he is proved as worshipful a knight as any now alive, and by the\ngrace of Heaven he shall be found forthwith if he be anywhere within\nthese seven realms.\" Then said Sir Gawain and his brethren, \"Lord, if ye\nwill give us leave we will go seek him.\" But Sir Lancelot said, \"It\nwere better that the king should send a messenger to Dame Lyones and\npray her to come hither with all speed, and she will counsel where ye\nshall find him.\" \"It is well said,\" replied the king; and sent a\nmessenger quickly unto Dame Lyones.\nWhen she heard the message she promised she would come forthwith, and\ntold Sir Gareth what the messenger had said, and asked him what to do.\n\"I pray you,\" said he, \"tell them not where I am, but when my lord King\nArthur asketh for me, advise him thus--that he proclaim a tournament\nbefore this castle on Assumption Day, and that the knight who proveth\nbest shall win yourself and all your lands.\" So the Lady Lyones departed\nand came to King Arthur's court, and there was right nobly welcomed. And\nwhen they asked her where Sir Gareth was, she said she could not tell.\n\"But, lord,\" said she, \"with thy goodwill I will proclaim a tournament\nbefore my castle on the Feast of the Assumption, whereof the prize shall\nbe myself and all my lands. Then if it be proclaimed that you, lord, and\nyour knights will be there, I will find knights on my side to fight you\nand yours, and thus am I sure ye will hear tidings of Sir Gareth.\" \"Be\nit so done,\" replied the king.\nSo Sir Gareth sent messengers privily to Sir Perseant and Sir Ironside,\nand charged them to be ready on the day appointed, with their companies\nof knights to aid him and his party against the king. And when they were\narrived he said, \"Now be ye well assured that we shall be matched with\nthe best knights of the world, and therefore must we gather all the\ngood knights we can find.\"\nSo proclamation was made throughout all England, Wales, Scotland,\nIreland, and Cornwall, and in the out isles and other countries, that at\nthe Feast of the Assumption of our Lady, next coming, all knights who\ncame to joust at Castle Perilous should make choice whether they would\nside with the king or with the castle. Then came many good knights on\nthe side of the castle. Sir Epinogris, the son of the King of\nNorthumberland, and Sir Palomedes the Saracen, and Sir Grummore\nGrummorsum, a good knight of Scotland, and Sir Brian des Iles, a noble\nknight, and Sir Carados of the Tower Dolorous, and Sir Tristram, who as\nyet was not a knight of the Round Table, and many others. But none among\nthem knew Sir Gareth, for he took no more upon him than any mean person.\nAnd on King Arthur's side there came the King of Ireland and the King of\nScotland, the noble prince Sir Galahaut, Sir Gawain and his brothers Sir\nAgravain and Sir Gaheris, Sir Ewaine, Sir Tor, Sir Perceval, and Sir\nLamoracke, Sir Lancelot also and his kindred, Sir Lionel, Sir Ector, Sir\nBors and Sir Bedivere, likewise Sir Key and the most part of the Table\nRound. The two queens also, Queen Guinevere and the Queen of Orkney, Sir\nGareth's mother, came with the king. So there was a great array both\nwithin and without the castle, with all manner of feasting and\nminstrelsy.\nNow before the tournament began, Sir Gareth privily prayed Dame Lyones,\nSir Gringamors, Sir Ironside, and Sir Perseant, that they would in\nnowise disclose his name, nor make more of him than of any common\nknight. Then said Dame Lyones, \"Dear lord, I pray thee take this ring,\nwhich hath the power to change the wearer's clothing into any color he\nmay will, and guardeth him from any loss of blood. But give it me again,\nI pray thee, when the tournament is done, for it greatly increaseth my\nbeauty whensoever I wear it.\" \"Gramercy, mine own lady,\" said Sir\nGareth, \"I wished for nothing better, for now I may be certainly\ndisguised as long as I will.\" Then Sir Gringamors gave Sir Gareth a bay\ncourser that was a passing good horse, with sure armor, and a noble\nsword, won by his father from a heathen tyrant. And then every knight\nmade him ready for the tournament.\nSo on the day of the Assumption, when mass and matins were said, the\nheralds blew their trumpets and sounded for the tourney. Anon came out\nthe knights of the castle and the knights of King Arthur, and matched\nthemselves together.\nThen Sir Epinogris, son of the King of Northumberland, a knight of the\ncastle, encountered Sir Ewaine, and both broke off their spears short to\ntheir hands. Then came Sir Palomedes from the castle, and met Sir\nGawain, and they so hardly smote each other, that both knights and\nhorses fell to the earth. Then Sir Tristram, from the castle,\nencountered with Sir Bedivere, and smote him to the earth, horse and\nman. Then the Knight of the Redlands and Sir Gareth met with Sir Bors\nand Sir Bleoberis; and the Knight of the Redlands and Sir Bors smote\ntogether so hard that their spears burst, and their horses fell\ngroveling to the ground. And Sir Bleoberis brake his spear upon Sir\nGareth, but himself was hurled upon the ground. When Sir Galihodin saw\nthat, he bade Sir Gareth keep him, but Sir Gareth lightly smote him to\nthe earth. Then Sir Galihud got a spear to avenge his brother, but was\nserved in like manner. And Sir Dinadam, and his brother\nLa-cote-male-taile, and Sir Sagramour le Desirous, and Dodinas le\nSavage, he bore down all with one spear.\nWhen King Anguish of Ireland saw this, he marveled what that knight\ncould be who seemed at one time green and at another blue; for so at\nevery course he changed his color that none might know him. Then he ran\ntowards him and encountered him, and Sir Gareth smote the king from his\nhorse, saddle and all. And in like manner he served the King of\nScotland, and King Urience of Gore, and King Bagdemagus.\nThen Sir Galahaut, the noble prince, cried out, \"Knight of the many\ncolors! thou hast jousted well; now make thee ready to joust with me.\"\nWhen Sir Gareth heard him, he took a great spear and met him swiftly.\nAnd the prince's spear broke off, but Sir Gareth smote him on the left\nside of the helm, so that he reeled here and there, and had fallen down\nhad not his men recovered him. \"By my faith,\" said King Arthur, \"that\nknight of the many colors is a good knight. I pray thee, Sir Lancelot\ndu Lake, encounter with him.\" \"Lord,\" said Sir Lancelot, \"by thy leave I\nwill forbear. I find it in my heart to spare him at this time, for he\nhath done enough work for one day; and when a good knight doth so well\nit is no knightly part to hinder him from this honor. And peradventure\nhis quarrel is here to-day, and he may be the best beloved of the Lady\nLyones of all that be here; for I see well he paineth and forceth\nhimself to do great deeds. Therefore, as for me, this day he shall have\nthe honor; for though I were able to put him from it, I would not.\" \"You\nspeak well and truly,\" said the king.\nThen after the tilting, they drew swords, and there began a great\ntournament, and there Sir Lancelot did marvelous deeds of arms, for\nfirst he fought with both Sir Tristram and Sir Carados, albeit they were\nthe most perilous in all the world. Then came Sir Gareth and put them\nasunder, but would not smite a stroke against Sir Lancelot, for by him\nhe had been knighted. Anon Sir Gareth's helm had need of mending, and he\nrode aside to see to it and to drink water, for he was sore athirst with\nall his mighty feats of strength. And while he drank, his dwarf said to\nhim, \"Give me your ring, lest ye lose it while ye drink.\" So Sir Gareth\ntook it off. And when he had finished drinking, he rode back eagerly to\nthe field, and in his haste forgot to take the ring again. Then all the\npeople saw that he wore yellow armor. And King Arthur told a herald,\n\"Ride and espy the cognizance of that brave knight, for I have asked\nmany who he is, and none can tell me.\"\nThen the herald rode near, and saw written round about his helmet in\nletters of gold, \"Sir Gareth of Orkney.\" And instantly the herald cried\nhis name aloud, and all men pressed to see him.\nBut when he saw he was discovered, he pushed with haste through all the\ncrowd, and cried to his dwarf, \"Boy, thou hast beguiled me foully in\nkeeping my ring; give it me again, that I may be hidden.\" And as soon as\nhe had put it on, his armor changed again, and no man knew where he had\ngone. Then he passed forth from the field; but Sir Gawain, his brother,\nrode after him.\nAnd when Sir Gareth had ridden far into the forest, he took off his\nring, and sent it back by the dwarf to the Lady Lyones, praying her to\nbe true and faithful to him while he was away.\nThen rode Sir Gareth long through the forest, till night fell, and\ncoming to a castle he went up to the gate, and prayed the porter to let\nhim in. But churlishly he answered \"that he should not lodge there.\"\nThen said Sir Gareth, \"Tell thy lord and lady that I am a knight of King\nArthur's court, and for his sake I pray their shelter.\" With that the\nporter went to the duchess who owned the castle. \"Let him in\nstraightway,\" cried she; \"for the king's sake he shall not be\nharborless!\" and went down to receive him. When Sir Gareth saw her\ncoming, he saluted her, and said, \"Fair lady, I pray you give me shelter\nfor this night, and if there be here any champion or giant with whom I\nmust needs fight, spare me till to-morrow, when I and my horse shall\nhave rested, for we are full weary.\" \"Sir knight,\" she said, \"thou\nspeakest boldly; for the lord of this castle is a foe to King Arthur and\nhis court, and if thou wilt rest here to-night thou must agree, that\nwheresoever thou mayest meet my lord, thou must yield to him as a\nprisoner.\" \"What is thy lord's name, lady?\" said Sir Gareth. \"The Duke\nde la Rowse,\" said she. \"I will promise thee,\" said he, \"to yield to\nhim, if he promise to do me no harm; but if he refuse, I will release\nmyself with my sword and spear.\"\n\"It is well,\" said the duchess; and commanded the drawbridge to be let\ndown. So he rode into the hall and alighted. And when he had taken off\nhis armor, the duchess and her ladies made him passing good cheer. And\nafter supper his bed was made in the hall, and there he rested that\nnight. On the morrow he rose and heard mass, and having broken his fast,\ntook his leave and departed.\nAnd as he rode past a certain mountain there met him a knight named Sir\nBendelaine, and cried unto him, \"Thou shalt not pass unless thou joust\nwith me or be my prisoner!\" \"Then will we joust,\" replied Sir Gareth. So\nthey let their horses run at full speed, and Sir Gareth smote Sir\nBendelaine through his body so sorely that he scarcely reached his\ncastle ere he fell dead. And as Sir Gareth presently came by the castle,\nSir Bendelaine's knights and servants rode out to revenge their lord.\nAnd twenty of them fell on him at once, although his spear was broken.\nBut drawing his sword he put his shield before him. And though they\nbrake their spears upon him, one and all, and sorely pressed on him, yet\never he defended himself like a noble knight. Anon, finding they could\nnot overcome him, they agreed to slay his horse; and having killed it\nwith their spears, they set upon Sir Gareth as he fought on foot. But\nevery one he struck he slew, and drave at them with fearful blows, till\nhe had slain them all but four, who fled. Then taking the horse of one\nof those that lay there dead, he rode upon his way.\nAnon he came to another castle and heard from within a sound as of many\nwomen moaning and weeping. Then said he to a page who stood without,\n\"What noise is this I hear?\" \"Sir knight,\" said he, \"there be within\nthirty ladies, the widows of thirty knights who have been slain by the\nlord of this castle. He is called the Brown Knight without pity, and is\nthe most perilous knight living, wherefore I warn thee to flee.\" \"That\nwill I never do,\" said Sir Gareth, \"for I fear him not.\" Then the page\nsaw the Brown Knight coming and said to Gareth, \"Lo! my lord is near.\"\nSo both knights made them ready and galloped their horses towards each\nother, and the Brown Knight brake his spear upon Sir Gareth's shield;\nbut Sir Gareth smote him through the body so that he fell dead. At that\nhe rode into the castle and told the ladies he had slain their foe. Then\nwere they right glad of heart and made him all the cheer they could,\nand thanked him out of measure. But on the morrow as he went to mass he\nfound the ladies weeping in the chapel upon divers tombs that were\nthere. And he knew that in those tombs their husbands lay. Then he bade\nthem be comforted, and with noble and high words he desired and prayed\nthem all to be at Arthur's court on the next Feast of Pentecost.\nSo he departed and rode past a mountain where was a goodly knight\nwaiting, who said to him, \"Abide, Sir knight, and joust with me!\" \"How\nare ye named?\" said Sir Gareth. \"I am the Duke de la Rowse,\" answered\nhe. \"In good sooth,\" then said Sir Gareth, \"not long ago I lodged within\nyour castle, and there promised I would yield to you whenever we might\nmeet.\" \"Art thou that proud knight,\" said the duke, \"who was ready to\nfight with me? Guard thyself therefore and make ready.\" So they ran\ntogether, and Sir Gareth smote the duke from his horse. Then they\nalighted and drew their swords, and fought full sorely for the space of\nan hour; and at the last Sir Gareth smote the duke to the earth and\nwould have slain him, but he yielded. \"Then must ye go,\" said Sir\nGareth, \"to my lord King Arthur at the next Feast of Pentecost and say\nthat I, Sir Gareth, sent ye.\" \"As ye will be it,\" said the duke; and\ngave him up his shield for pledge.\nAnd as Sir Gareth rode alone he saw an armed knight coming towards him.\nAnd putting the duke's shield before him he rode fast to tilt with him;\nand so they ran together as it had been thunder, and brake their spears\nupon each other. Then fought they fiercely with their swords, and lashed\ntogether with such mighty strokes that blood ran to the ground on every\nside. And after they had fought together for two hours and more, it\nchanced the damsel Linet passed that way; and when she saw them, she\ncried out, \"Sir Gawain and Sir Gareth, leave your fighting, for ye are\nbrethren!\" At that they threw away their shields and swords, and took\neach other in their arms, and wept a great while ere they could speak.\nAnd each gave to the other the honor of the battle, and there was many a\nkind word between them. Then said Sir Gawain, \"O my brother, for your\nsake have I had great sorrow and labor! But truly I would honor you\nthough ye were not my brother, for ye have done great worship to King\nArthur and his court, and sent more knights to him than any of the Table\nRound, except Sir Lancelot.\"\nThen the damsel Linet staunched their wounds, and their horses being\nweary she rode her palfrey to King Arthur and told him of this strange\nadventure. When she had told her tidings, the king himself mounted his\nhorse and bade all come with him to meet them. So a great company of\nlords and ladies went forth to meet the brothers. And when King Arthur\nsaw them he would have spoken hearty words, but for gladness he could\nnot. And both Sir Gawain and Sir Gareth fell down at their uncle's knees\nand did him homage, and there was passing great joy and gladness among\nthem all.\nThen said the king to the damsel Linet, \"Why cometh not the Lady Lyones\nto visit her knight, Sir Gareth, who hath had such travail for her\nlove?\" \"She knoweth not, my lord, that he is here,\" replied the damsel,\n\"for truly she desireth greatly to see him.\" \"Go ye and bring her\nhither,\" said the king. So the damsel rode to tell her sister where Sir\nGareth was, and when she heard it she rejoiced full heartily and came\nwith all the speed she could. And when Sir Gareth saw her, there was\ngreat joy and comfort between them.\nThen the king asked Sir Gareth whether he would have that lady for his\nwife? \"My lord,\" replied Sir Gareth, \"know well that I love her above\nall ladies living.\" \"Now, fair lady,\" said King Arthur, \"what say ye?\"\n\"Most noble king,\" she answered, \"my lord, Sir Gareth, is my first love\nand shall be my last, and if I may not have him for my husband I will\nhave none.\" Then said the king to them, \"Be well assured that for my\ncrown I would not be the cause of parting your two hearts.\"\nThen was high preparation made for the marriage, for the king desired it\nshould be at the Michaelmas next following, at Kinkenadon-by-the-Sea.\nSo Sir Gareth sent out messages to all the knights whom he had overcome\nin battle that they should be there upon his marriage-day.\nTherefore, at the next Michaelmas, came a goodly company to\nKinkenadon-by-the-Sea. And there did the Archbishop of Canterbury marry\nSir Gareth and the Lady Lyones with all solemnity. And all the knights\nwhom Sir Gareth had overcome were at the feast; and every manner of\nrevels and games was held with music and minstrelsy. And there was a\ngreat jousting for three days. But because of his bride the king would\nnot suffer Sir Gareth to joust. Then did King Arthur give great lands\nand fair, with store of gold, to Sir Gareth and his wife, that so they\nmight live royally together to their lives' end.\nXII\nTHE ADVENTURES OF SIR TRISTRAM\nAgain King Arthur held high festival at Caerleon, at Pentecost, and\ngathered round him all the fellowship of the Round Table, and so,\naccording to his custom, sat and waited till some adventure should\narise, or some knight return to court whose deeds and perils might be\ntold.\nAnon he saw Sir Lancelot and a crowd of knights coming through the doors\nand leading in their midst the mighty knight, Sir Tristram. As soon as\nKing Arthur saw him, he rose up and went through half the hall, and held\nout both his hands and cried, \"Right welcome to thee, good Sir Tristram,\nas welcome art thou as any knight that ever came before into this court.\nA long time have I wished for thee amongst my fellowship.\" Then all the\nknights and barons rose up with one accord and came around, and cried\nout, \"Welcome.\" Queen Guinevere came also, and many ladies with her, and\nall with one voice said the same.\nThen the king took Sir Tristram by the hand and led him to the Round\nTable and said, \"Welcome again for one of the best and gentlest knights\nin all the world; a chief in war, a chief in peace, a chief in field and\nforest, a chief in the ladies' chamber--right heartily welcome to this\ncourt, and mayest thou long abide in it.\"\nWhen he had so said he looked at every empty seat until he came to what\nhad been Sir Marhaus', and there he found written in gold letters, \"This\nis the seat of the noble knight, Sir Tristram.\" Whereat they made him,\nwith great cheer and gladness, a Fellow of the Round Table.\nNow the story of Sir Tristram was as follows:--\nThere was a king of Lyonesse, named Meliodas, married to the sister of\nKing Mark of Cornwall, a right fair lady and a good. And so it happened\nthat King Meliodas hunting in the woods was taken by enchantment and\nmade prisoner in a castle. When his wife Elizabeth heard it she was nigh\nmad with grief, and ran into the forest to seek out her lord. But after\nmany days of wandering and sorrow she found no trace of him, and laid\nher down in a deep valley and prayed to meet her death. And so indeed\nshe did, but ere she died she gave birth in the midst of all her sorrow\nto child, a boy, and called him with her latest breath Tristram; for she\nsaid, \"His name shall show how sadly he hath come into this world.\"\nTherewith she gave up her ghost, and the gentlewoman who was with her\ntook the child and wrapped it from the cold as well as she was able, and\nlay down with it in her arms beneath the shadow of a tree hard by,\nexpecting death to come to her in turn.\nBut shortly after came a company of lords and barons seeking for the\nqueen, and found the lady and the child and took them home. And on the\nnext day came King Meliodas, whom Merlin had delivered, and when he\nheard of the queen's death his sorrow was greater than tongue can tell.\nAnd anon he buried her solemnly and nobly, and called the child Tristram\nas she had desired.\nThen for seven years King Meliodas mourned and took no comfort, and all\nthat time young Tristram was well nourished; but in a while he wedded\nwith the daughter of Howell, King of Brittany, who, that her own\nchildren might enjoy the kingdom, cast about in her mind how she might\ndestroy Tristram. So on a certain day she put poison in a silver cup,\nwhere Tristram and her children were together playing, that when he was\nathirst he might drink of it and die. But so it happened that her own\nson saw the cup, and, thinking it must hold good drink, he climbed and\ntook it, and drank deeply of it, and suddenly thereafter burst and fell\ndown dead.\nWhen the queen heard that, her grief was very great, but her anger and\nenvy were fiercer than before, and soon again she put more poison in the\ncup. And by chance one day her husband finding it when thirsty, took it\nup and was about to drink therefrom, when, seeing him, she sprang up\nwith a mighty cry and dashed it from his hands.\nAt that King Meliodas, wondering greatly, called to mind the sudden\ndeath of his young child, and taking her fiercely by the hand he cried:\n\"Traitress, tell me what drink is in this cup or I will slay thee in a\nmoment;\" and therewith pulling out his sword he swore by a great oath\nto slay her if she straightway told him not the truth.\n\"Ah, mercy, lord,\" said she, and fell down at his feet; \"mercy, and I\nwill tell thee all.\"\nAnd then she told him of her plot to murder Tristram, so that her own\nsons might enjoy the kingdom.\n\"The law shall judge thee,\" said the king.\nAnd so anon she was tried before the barons, and condemned to be burnt\nto death.\nBut when the fire was made, and she brought out, came Tristram kneeling\nat his father's feet and besought of him a favor.\n\"Whatsoever thou desirest I will give thee,\" said the king.\n\"Give me the life, then, of the queen, my step-mother,\" said he.\n\"Thou doest wrong to ask it,\" said Meliodas; \"for she would have slain\nthee with her poisons if she could, and chiefly for thy sake she ought\nto die.\"\n\"Sir,\" said he, \"as for that, I beseech thee of thy mercy to forgive it\nher, and for my part may God pardon her as I do; and so I pray thee\ngrant me my boon, and for God's sake hold thee to thy promise.\"\n\"If it must be so,\" said the king, \"take thou her life, for to thee I\ngive it, and go and do with her as thou wilt.\"\nThen went young Tristram to the fire and loosed the queen from all her\nbonds and delivered her from death.\nAnd after a great while by his good means the king again forgave and\nlived in peace with her, though never more in the same lodgings.\nAnon was Tristram sent abroad to France in care of one named Governale.\nAnd there for seven years he learned the language of the land, and all\nknightly exercises and gentle crafts, and especially was he foremost in\nmusic and in hunting, and was a harper beyond all others. And when at\nnineteen years of age he came back to his father, he was as lusty and\nstrong of body and as noble of heart as ever man was seen.\nNow shortly after his return it befell that King Anguish of Ireland sent\nto King Mark of Cornwall for the tribute due to Ireland, but which was\nnow seven years behindhand. To whom King Mark sent answer, if he would\nhave it he must send and fight for it, and they would find a champion to\nfight against it.\nSo King Anguish called for Sir Marhaus, his wife's brother, a good\nknight of the Round Table, who lived then at his court, and sent him\nwith a knightly retinue in six great ships to Cornwall. And, casting\nanchor by the castle of Tintagil, he sent up daily to King Mark for the\ntribute or the champion. But no knight there would venture to assail\nhim, for his fame was very high in all the realm for strength and\nhardihood.\nThen made King Mark a proclamation throughout Cornwall, that if any\nknight would fight Sir Marhaus he should stand at the king's right hand\nforevermore, and have great honor and riches all the rest of his days.\nAnon this news came to the land of Lyonesse, and when young Tristram\nheard it he was angry and ashamed to think no knight of Cornwall durst\nassail the Irish champion. \"Alas,\" said he, \"that I am not a knight,\nthat I might match this Marhaus! I pray you give me leave, sir, to\ndepart to King Mark's court and beg him of his grace to make me knight.\"\n\"Be ruled by thy own courage,\" said his father.\nSo Tristram rode away forthwith to Tintagil to King Mark, and went up\nboldly to him and said, \"Sir, give me the order of knighthood and I will\nfight to the uttermost with Sir Marhaus of Ireland.\"\n\"What are ye, and whence come ye?\" said the king, seeing he was but a\nyoung man, though strong and well made both in body and limb.\n\"My name is Tristram,\" said he, \"and I was born in the country of\nLyonesse.\"\n\"But know ye,\" said the king, \"this Irish knight will fight with none\nwho be not come of royal blood and near of kin to kings or queens, as he\nhimself is, for his sister is the Queen of Ireland.\"\nThen said Tristram, \"Let him know that I am come both on my father's and\nmy mother's side of blood as good as his, for my father is King Meliodas\nand my mother was that Queen Elizabeth, thy sister, who died in the\nforest at my birth.\"\nWhen King Mark heard that he welcomed him with all his heart, and\nknighted him forthwith, and made him ready to go forth as soon as he\nwould choose, and armed him royally in armor covered with gold and\nsilver.\nThen he sent Sir Marhaus word, \"That a better man than he should fight\nwith him, Sir Tristram of Lyonesse, son of King Meliodas and of King\nMark's own sister.\" So the battle was ordained to be fought in an island\nnear Sir Marhaus' ships, and there Sir Tristram landed on the morrow,\nwith Governale alone attending him for squire, and him he sent back to\nthe land when he had made himself ready.\nWhen Sir Marhaus and Sir Tristram were thus left alone, Sir Marhaus\nsaid, \"Young knight Sir Tristram, what doest thou here? I am full sorry\nfor thy rashness, for ofttimes have I been assailed in vain, and by the\nbest knights of the world. Be warned in time, return to them that sent\nthee.\"\n\"Fair knight, and well-proved knight,\" replied Sir Tristram, \"be sure\nthat I shall never quit this quarrel till one of us be overcome. For\nthis cause have I been made knight, and thou shalt know before we part\nthat though as yet unproved, I am a king's son and firstborn of a queen.\nMoreover I have promised to deliver Cornwall from this ancient burden,\nor to die. Also, thou shouldst have known, Sir Marhaus, that thy valor\nand thy might are but the better reasons why I should assail thee; for\nwhether I win or lose I shall gain honor to have met so great a knight\nas thou art.\"\nThen they began the battle, and tilted at their hardest against each\nother, so that both knights and horses fell to the earth. But Sir\nMarhaus' spear smote Sir Tristram a great wound in the side. Then,\nspringing up from their horses, they lashed together with their swords\nlike two wild boars. And when they had stricken together a great while\nthey left off strokes and lunged at one another's breasts and visors;\nbut seeing this availed not they hurtled together again to bear each\nother down.\nThus fought they more than half the day, till both were sorely spent and\nblood ran from them to the ground on every side. But by this time Sir\nTristram remained fresher than Sir Marhaus and better winded, and with a\nmighty stroke he smote him such a buffet as cut through his helm into\nhis brain-pan, and there his sword stuck in so fast that thrice Sir\nTristram pulled ere he could get it from his head. Then fell Sir Marhaus\ndown upon his knees, and the edge of Sir Tristram's sword broke off into\nhis brain-pan. And suddenly when he seemed dead, Sir Marhaus rose and\nthrew his sword and shield away from him and ran and fled into his ship.\nAnd Tristram cried out after him, \"Aha! Sir knight of the Round Table,\ndost thou withdraw thee from so young a knight? it is a shame to thee\nand all thy kin; I would rather have been hewn into a hundred pieces\nthan have fled from thee.\"\nBut Sir Marhaus answered nothing, and sorely groaning fled away.\n\"Farewell, Sir knight, farewell,\" laughed Tristram, whose own voice now\nwas hoarse and faint with loss of blood; \"I have thy sword and shield in\nmy safe keeping, and will wear them in all places where I ride on my\nadventures, and before King Arthur and the Table Round.\"\nThen was Sir Marhaus taken back to Ireland by his company; and as soon\nas he arrived his wounds were searched, and when they searched his head\nthey found therein a piece of Tristram's sword; but all the skill of\nsurgeons was in vain to move it out. So anon Sir Marhaus died.\nBut the queen, his sister, took the piece of sword-blade and put it\nsafely by, for she thought that some day it might help her to revenge\nher brother's death.\nMeanwhile, Sir Tristram, being sorely wounded, sat down softly on a\nlittle mound and bled passing fast; and in that evil case was found anon\nby Governale and King Mark's knights. Then they gently took him up and\nbrought him in a barge back to the land, and lifted him into a bed\nwithin the castle, and had his wounds dressed carefully.\nBut for a great while he lay sick, and was likely to have died of the\nfirst stroke Sir Marhaus had given him with the spear, for the point of\nit was poisoned. And, though the wisest surgeons and leeches--both men\nand women--came from every part, yet could he be by no means cured. At\nlast came a wise lady, and said plainly that Sir Tristram never should\nbe healed, until he went and stayed in that same country when the poison\ncame. When this was understood, the king sent Sir Tristram in a fair and\ngoodly ship to Ireland, and by fortune he arrived fast by a castle where\nthe king and queen were. And as the ship was being anchored, he sat upon\nhis bed and harped a merry lay, and made so sweet a music as was never\nequaled.\nWhen the king heard that the sweet harper was a wounded knight, he sent\nfor him, and asked his name. \"I am of the country of Lyonesse,\" he\nanswered, \"and my name is Tramtrist;\" for he dared not tell his true\nname lest the vengeance of the queen should fall upon him for her\nbrother's death.\n\"Well,\" said King Anguish, \"thou art right welcome here, and shalt have\nall the help this land can give thee; but be not anxious if I am at\ntimes cast down and sad, for but lately in Cornwall the best knight in\nthe world, fighting for my cause, was slain; his name was Sir Marhaus, a\nknight of King Arthur's Round Table.\" And then he told Sir Tristram all\nthe story of Sir Marhaus' battle, and Sir Tristram made pretense of\ngreat surprise and sorrow, though he knew all far better than the king\nhimself.\nThen was he put in charge of the king's daughter, La Belle Isault, to be\nhealed of his wound, and she was as fair and noble a lady as men's eyes\nmight see. And so marvelously was she skilled in medicine, that in a few\ndays she fully cured him; and in return Sir Tramtrist taught her the\nharp; so, before long, they two began to love each other greatly.\nBut at that time a heathen knight, Sir Palomedes, was in Ireland, and\nmuch cherished by the king and queen. He also loved mightily La Belle\nIsault, and never wearied of making her great gifts, and seeking for her\nfavor, and was ready even to be christened for her sake. Sir Tramtrist\ntherefore hated him out of measure, and Sir Palomedes was full of rage\nand envy against Tramtrist.\nAnd so it befell that King Anguish proclaimed a great tournament to be\nheld, the prize whereof should be a lady called the Lady of the Launds,\nof near kindred to the king: and her the winner of the tournament should\nwed in three days afterwards, and possess all her lands. When La Belle\nIsault told Sir Tramtrist of this tournament, he said, \"Fair lady! I am\nyet a feeble knight, and but for thee had been a dead man now: what\nwouldest thou I should do? Thou knowest well I may not joust.\"\n\"Ah, Tramtrist,\" said she, \"why wilt thou not fight in this tournament?\nSir Palomedes will be there, and will do his mightiest; and therefore be\nthou there, I pray thee, or else he will be winner of the prize.\"\n\"Madam,\" said Tramtrist, \"I will go, and for thy sake will do my best;\nbut let me go unknown to all men; and do thou, I pray thee, keep my\ncounsel, and help me to a disguise.\"\nSo on the day of jousting came Sir Palomedes, with a black shield, and\noverthrew many knights. And all the people wondered at his prowess; for\non the first day he put to the worse Sir Gawain, Sir Gaheris, Sir\nAgravaine, Sir Key, and many more from far and near. And on the morrow\nhe was conqueror again, and overthrew the king with a hundred knights\nand the King of Scotland. But presently Sir Tramtrist rode up to the\nlists, having been let out at a privy postern of the castle, where none\ncould see. La Belle Isault had dressed him in white armor and given him\na white horse and shield, and so he came suddenly into the field as it\nhad been a bright angel.\nAs soon as Sir Palomedes saw him he ran at him with a great spear in\nrest, but Sir Tramtrist was ready, and at the first encounter hurled him\nto the ground. Then there arose a great cry that the knight with the\nblack shield was overthrown. And Palomedes, sorely hurt and shamed,\nsought out a secret way and would have left the field; but Tramtrist\nwatched him, and rode after him, and bade him stay, for he had not yet\ndone with him. Then did Sir Palomedes turn with fury, and lash at Sir\nTramtrist with his sword; but at the first stroke Sir Tramtrist smote\nhim to the earth, and cried, \"Do now all my commands, or take thy\ndeath.\" Then he yielded to Sir Tristram's mercy, and promised to forsake\nLa Belle Isault, and for twelve months to wear no arms or armor. And\nrising up, he cut his armor off him into shreds with rage and madness,\nand turned and left the field: and Sir Tramtrist also left the lists,\nand rode back to the castle through the postern gate.\nThen was Sir Tramtrist long cherished by the King and Queen of Ireland,\nand ever with La Belle Isault. But on a certain day, while he was\nbathing, came the queen with La Belle Isault by chance into his chamber,\nand saw his sword lie naked on the bed: anon she drew it from the\nscabbard and looked at it a long while, and both thought it a passing\nfair sword; but within a foot and a half of the end there was a great\npiece broken out, and while the queen was looking at the gap, she\nsuddenly remembered the piece of sword-blade that was found in the\nbrain-pan of her brother Sir Marhaus.\nTherewith she turned and cried, \"By my faith, this is the felon knight\nwho slew thy uncle!\" And running to her chamber she sought in her casket\nfor the piece of iron from Sir Marhaus' head and brought it back, and\nfitted it in Tristram's sword; and surely did it fit therein as closely\nas it had been but yesterday broke out.\nThen the queen caught the sword up fiercely in her hand, and ran into\nthe room where Sir Tristram was yet in his bath, and making straight for\nhim, had run him through the body, had not his squire, Sir Hebes, got\nher in his arms, and pulled the sword away from her.\nThen ran she to the king, and fell upon her knees before him, saying,\n\"Lord and husband, thou hast here in thy house that felon knight who\nslew my brother Marhaus!\"\n\"Who is it?\" said the king.\n\"It is Sir Tramtrist!\" said she, \"whom Isault hath healed.\"\n\"Alas!\" replied the king, \"I am full grieved thereat, for he is a good\nknight as ever I have seen in any field; but I charge thee leave thou\nhim, and let me deal with him.\"\nThen the king went to Sir Tramtrist's chamber and found him all armed\nand ready to mount his horse, and said to him, \"Sir Tramtrist, it is not\nto prove me against thee I come, for it were shameful of thy host to\nseek thy life. Depart in peace, but tell me first thy name, and whether\nthou slewest my brother, Sir Marhaus.\"\nThen Sir Tristram told him all the truth, and how he had hid his name,\nto be unknown in Ireland; and when he had ended, the king declared he\nheld him in no blame. \"Howbeit, I cannot for mine honor's sake retain\nthee at this court, for so I should displease my barons, and my wife,\nand all her kin.\"\n\"Sir,\" said Sir Tristram, \"I thank thee for the goodness thou hast shown\nme here, and for the great goodness my lady, thy daughter, hath shown\nme; and it may chance to be more for thy advantage if I live than if I\ndie; for wheresoever I may be, I shall ever seek thy service, and shall\nbe my lady thy daughter's servant in all places, and her knight in right\nand wrong, and shall never fail to do for her as much as knight can do.\"\nThen Sir Tristram went to La Belle Isault, and took his leave of her. \"O\ngentle knight,\" said she, \"full of grief am I at your departing, for\nnever yet I saw a man to love so well.\"\n\"Madam,\" said he, \"I promise faithfully that all my life I shall be your\nknight.\"\nThen Sir Tristram gave her a ring, and she gave him another, and after\nthat he left her, weeping and lamenting, and went among the barons, and\nopenly took his leave of them all, saying, \"Fair lords, it so befalleth\nthat I now must depart hence; therefore, if there be any here whom I\nhave offended or who is grieved with me, let him now say it, and before\nI go I will amend it to the utmost of my power. And if there be but one\nwho would speak shame of me behind my back, let him say it now or never,\nand here is my body to prove it on--body against body.\"\nAnd all stood still and said no word, though some there were of the\nqueen's kindred who would have assailed him had they dared.\nSo Sir Tristram departed from Ireland and took the sea and came with a\nfair wind to Tintagil. And when the news came to King Mark that Sir\nTristram was returned, healed of his wound, he was passing glad, and so\nwere all his barons. And when he had visited the king his uncle, he rode\nto his father, King Meliodas, and there had all the heartiest welcome\nthat could be made him. And both the king and queen gave largely to him\nof their lands and goods.\nAnon he came again to King Mark's court, and there lived in great joy\nand pleasure, till within a while the king grew jealous of his fame, and\nof the love and favor shown him by all damsels. And as long as King Mark\nlived, he never after loved Sir Tristram, though there was much fair\nspeech between them.\nThen it befell upon a certain day that the good knight Sir Bleoberis de\nGanis, brother to Sir Blamor de Ganis, and nigh cousin to Sir Lancelot\nof the Lake, came to King Mark's court and asked of him a favor. And\nthough the king marveled, seeing he was a man of great renown, and a\nknight of the Round Table, he granted him all his asking. Then said Sir\nBleoberis, \"I will have the fairest lady in your court, at my own\nchoosing.\"\n\"I may not say thee nay,\" replied the king; \"choose therefore, but take\nall the issues of thy choice.\"\nSo when he had looked around, he chose the wife of Earl Segwarides, and\ntook her by the hand, and set her upon horseback behind his squire, and\nrode forth on his way.\nPresently thereafter came in the earl, and rode out straightway after\nhim in rage. But all the ladies cried out shame upon Sir Tristram that\nhe had not gone, and one rebuked him foully and called him coward\nknight, that he would stand and see a lady forced away from his uncle's\ncourt. But Sir Tristram answered her, \"Fair lady, it is not my place to\ntake part in this quarrel while her lord and husband is here to do it.\nHad he not been at this court, peradventure I had been her champion. And\nif it so befall that he speed ill, then may it happen that I speak with\nthat foul knight before he pass out of this realm.\"\nAnon ran in one of Sir Segwarides' squires, and told that his master was\nsore wounded, and at the point of death. When Sir Tristram heard that,\nhe was soon armed and on his horse, and Governale, his servant, followed\nhim with shield and spear.\nAnd as he rode, he met his cousin Sir Andret, who had been commanded by\nKing Mark to bring home to him two knights of King Arthur's court who\nroamed the country thereabouts seeking adventures.\n\"What tidings?\" said Sir Tristram.\n\"God help me, never worse,\" replied his cousin; \"for those I went to\nbring have beaten and defeated me, and set my message at naught.\"\n\"Fair cousin,\" said Sir Tristram, \"ride ye on your way, perchance if I\nshould meet them ye may be revenged.\"\nSo Sir Andret rode into Cornwall, but Sir Tristram rode after the two\nknights who had misused him, namely, Sir Sagramour le Desirous, and Sir\nDodinas le Savage. And before long he saw them but a little way before\nhim.\n\"Sir,\" said Governale, \"by my advice thou wilt leave them alone, for\nthey be two well-proved knights of Arthur's court.\"\n\"Shall I not therefore rather meet them!\" said Sir Tristram, and, riding\nswiftly after them, he called to them to stop, and asked them whence\nthey came, and whither they were going, and what they were doing in\nthose marches.\nSir Sagramour looked haughtily at Sir Tristram, and made mocking of his\nwords, and said, \"Fair knight, be ye a knight of Cornwall?\"\n\"Wherefore askest thou that?\" said Tristram.\n\"Truly, because it is full seldom seen,\" replied Sir Sagramour, \"that\nCornish knights are valiant with their arms as with their tongues. It is\nbut two hours since there met us such a Cornish knight, who spoke great\nwords with might and prowess, but anon, with little mastery, he was laid\non earth, as I trow wilt thou be also.\"\n\"Fair lords,\" said Sir Tristram, \"it may chance I be a better man than\nhe; but, be that as it may, he was my cousin, and for his sake I will\nassail ye both; one Cornish knight against ye two.\"\nWhen Sir Dodinas le Savage heard this speech, he caught at his spear and\nsaid, \"Sir knight, keep well thyself;\" and then they parted and came\ntogether as it had been thunder, and Sir Dodinas' spear split asunder;\nbut Sir Tristram smote him with so full a stroke as hurled him over his\nhorse's crupper, and nearly brake his neck. Sir Sagramour, seeing his\nfellow's fall, marveled who this new knight be, and dressed his spear,\nand came against Sir Tristram as a whirlwind; but Sir Tristram smote him\na mighty buffet, and rolled him with his horse down on the ground; and\nin the falling he brake his thigh.\nThen, looking at them both as they lay groveling on the grass, Sir\nTristram said, \"Fair knights, will ye joust any more? Are there no\nbigger knights in King Arthur's court? Will ye soon again speak shame of\nCornish knights?\"\n\"Thou hast defeated us, in truth,\" replied Sir Sagramour, \"and on the\nfaith of knighthood I require thee tell us thy right name?\"\n\"Ye charge me by a great thing,\" said Sir Tristram, \"and I will answer\nye.\"\nAnd when they heard his name the two knights were right glad that they\nhad met Sir Tristram, for his deeds were known through all the land, and\nthey prayed him to abide in their company.\n\"Nay,\" said he, \"I must find a fellow-knight of yours, Sir Bleoberis de\nGanis, whom I seek.\"\n\"God speed you well,\" said the two knights; and Sir Tristram rode away.\nSoon he saw before him in a valley Sir Bleoberis with Sir Segwarides'\nwife riding behind his squire upon a palfrey. At that he cried out\naloud, \"Abide, Sir knight of King Arthur's court, bring back again that\nlady or deliver her to me.\"\n\"I will not,\" said Bleoberis, \"for I dread no Cornish knight.\"\n\"Why,\" said Sir Tristram, \"may not a Cornish knight do well as any\nother? This day, but three miles back, two knights of thy own court met\nme, and found one Cornish knight enough for both before we parted.\"\n\"What were their names?\" said Sir Bleoberis.\n\"Sir Sagramour le Desirous and Sir Dodinas le Savage,\" said Sir\nTristram.\n\"Ah,\" said Sir Bleoberis, amazed; \"hast thou then met with them? By my\nfaith, they were two good knights and men of worship, and if thou hast\nbeat both thou must needs be a good knight; but for all that, thou shalt\nbeat me also ere thou hast this lady.\"\n\"Defend thee, then,\" cried out Sir Tristram, and came upon him swiftly\nwith his spear in rest. But Sir Bleoberis was as swift as he, and each\nbore down the other, horse and all, on to the earth.\nThen they sprang clear of their horses, and lashed together full eagerly\nand mightily with their swords, tracing and traversing on the right hand\nand on the left more than two hours, and sometimes rushing together with\nsuch fury that they both lay groveling on the ground. At last Sir\nBleoberis started back and said, \"Now, gentle knight, hold hard awhile,\nand let us speak together.\"\n\"Say on,\" said Sir Tristram, \"and I will answer thee.\"\n\"Sir,\" said Sir Bleoberis, \"I would know thy name, and court, and\ncountry.\"\n\"I have no shame to tell them,\" said Sir Tristram. \"I am King Meliodas'\nson, and my mother was sister to King Mark, from whose court I now come.\nMy name is Sir Tristram de Lyonesse.\"\n\"Truly,\" said Sir Bleoberis, \"I am right glad to hear it, for thou art\nhe that slew Sir Marhaus hand-to-hand, fighting for the Cornish tribute;\nand overcame Sir Palomedes at the great Irish tournament, where also\nthou didst overthrow Sir Gawain and his nine companions.\"\n\"I am that knight,\" said Sir Tristram, \"and now I pray thee tell me thy\nname.\"\n\"I am Sir Bleoberis de Ganis, cousin of Sir Lancelot of the Lake, one of\nthe best knights in all the world,\" he answered.\n\"Thou sayest truth,\" said Sir Tristram; \"for Sir Lancelot, as all men\nknow, is peerless in courtesy and knighthood, and for the great love I\nbear to his name I will not willingly fight more with thee his\nkinsman.\"\n\"In good faith, sir,\" said Sir Bleoberis, \"I am as loth to fight thee\nmore; but since thou hast followed me to win this lady, I proffer thee\nkindness, courtesy, and gentleness; this lady shall be free to go with\nwhich of us she pleaseth best.\"\n\"I am content,\" said Sir Tristram, \"for I doubt not she will come to\nme.\"\n\"That shalt thou shortly prove,\" said he, and called his squire, and set\nthe lady in the midst between them, who forthwith walked to Sir\nBleoberis and elected to abide with him. Which, when Sir Tristram saw,\nhe was in wondrous anger with her, and felt that he could scarce for\nshame return to King Mark's court. But Sir Bleoberis said, \"Hearken to\nme, good knight, Sir Tristram, because King Mark gave me free choice of\nany gift, and because this lady chose to go with me, I took her; but now\nI have fulfilled my quest and my adventure, and for thy sake she shall\nbe sent back to her husband at the abbey where he lieth.\"\nSo Sir Tristram rode back to Tintagil, and Sir Bleoberis to the abbey\nwhere Sir Segwarides lay wounded, and there delivered up his lady, and\ndeparted as a noble knight.\nAfter this adventure Sir Tristram abode still at his uncle's court, till\nin the envy of his heart King Mark devised a plan to be rid of him. So\non a certain day he desired him to depart again for Ireland, and there\ndemand La Belle Isault on his behalf, to be his queen--forever had Sir\nTristram praised her beauty and her goodness, till King Mark desired to\nwed her for himself. Moreover, he believed his nephew surely would be\nslain by the queen's kindred if he once were found again in Ireland.\nBut Sir Tristram, scorning fear, made ready to depart, and took with him\nthe noblest knights that could be found, arrayed in the richest fashion.\nAnd when they were come to Ireland, upon a certain day Sir Tristram gave\nhis uncle's message, and King Anguish consented thereto.\nBut when La Belle Isault was told the tidings she was very sorrowful and\nloth--yet made she ready to set forth with Sir Tristram, and took with\nher Dame Bragwaine, her chief gentlewoman. Then the queen gave Dame\nBragwaine, and Governale, Sir Tristram's servant, a little flask, and\ncharged them that La Belle Isault and King Mark should both drink of it\non their marriage day, and then should they surely love each other all\ntheir lives.\nAnon, Sir Tristram and Isault, with a great company, took the sea and\ndeparted. And so it chanced that one day sitting in their cabin they\nwere athirst, and saw a little flask of gold which seemed to hold good\nwine. So Sir Tristram took it up, and said, \"Fair lady, this looketh to\nbe the best of wines, and your maid, Dame Bragwaine, and my servant,\nGovernale, have kept it for themselves.\" Thereat they both laughed\nmerrily, and drank each after other from the flask, and never before had\nthey tasted any wine which seemed so good and sweet. But by the time\nthey had finished drinking they loved each other so well that their\nlove nevermore might leave them for weal or woe. And thus it came to\npass that though Sir Tristram might never wed La Belle Isault, he did\nthe mightiest deeds of arms for her sake only all his life.\nThen they sailed onwards till they came to a castle called Pluere, where\nthey would have rested. But anon there ran forth a great company and\ntook them prisoners. And when they were in prison, Sir Tristram asked a\nknight and lady whom they found therein wherefore they were so\nshamefully dealt with; \"for,\" said he, \"it was never the custom of any\nplace of honor that I ever came unto to seize a knight and lady asking\nshelter and thrust them into prison, and a full evil and discourteous\ncustom is it.\"\n\"Sir,\" said the knight, \"know ye not that this is called the Castle\nPluere, or the weeping castle, and that it is an ancient custom here\nthat whatsoever knight abideth in it must needs fight the lord of it,\nSir Brewnor, and he that is the weakest shall lose his head. And if the\nlady he hath with him be less fair than the lord's wife, she shall lose\nher head; but if she be fairer, then must the lady of the castle lose\nher head.\"\n\"Now Heaven help me,\" said Sir Tristram, \"but this is a foul and\nshameful custom. Yet have I one advantage, for my lady is the fairest\nthat doth live in all the world, so that I nothing fear for her; and as\nfor me, I will full gladly fight for my own head in a fair field.\"\nThen said the knight, \"Look ye be up betimes to-morrow, and make you\nready and your lady.\"\nAnd on the morrow came Sir Brewnor to Sir Tristram, and put him and\nIsault forth out of prison, and brought him a horse and armor, and bade\nhim make ready, for all the commons and estates of that lordship waited\nin the field to see and judge the battle.\nThen Sir Brewnor, holding his lady by the hand, all muffled, came forth,\nand Sir Tristram went to meet him with La Belle Isault beside him,\nmuffled also. Then said Sir Brewnor, \"Sir knight, if thy lady be fairer\nthan mine, with thy sword smite off my lady's head; but if my lady be\nfairer than thine, with my sword I will smite off thy lady's head. And\nif I overcome thee thy lady shall be mine, and thou shalt lose thy\nhead.\"\n\"Sir knight,\" replied Sir Tristram, \"this is a right foul and felon\ncustom, and rather than my lady shall lose her head will I lose my own.\"\n\"Nay,\" said Sir Brewnor, \"but the ladies shall be now compared together\nand judgment shall be had.\"\n\"I consent not,\" cried Sir Tristram, \"for who is here that will give\nrightful judgment? Yet doubt not that my lady is far fairer than thine\nown, and that will I prove and make good.\" Therewith Sir Tristram lifted\nup the veil from off La Belle Isault, and stood beside her with his\nnaked sword drawn in his hand.\nThen Sir Brewnor unmuffled his lady and did in like manner. But when he\nsaw La Belle Isault he knew that none could be so fair, and all there\npresent gave their judgment so. Then said Sir Tristram, \"Because thou\nand thy lady have long used this evil custom, and have slain many good\nknights and ladies, it were a just thing to destroy thee both.\"\n\"In good sooth,\" said Sir Brewnor, \"thy lady is fairer than mine, and of\nall women I never saw any so fair. Therefore, slay my lady if thou wilt,\nand I doubt not but I shall slay thee and have thine.\"\n\"Thou shalt win her,\" said Sir Tristram, \"as dearly as ever knight won\nlady; and because of thy own judgment and of the evil custom that thy\nlady hath consented to, I will slay her as thou sayest.\"\nAnd therewithal Sir Tristram went to him and took his lady from him, and\nsmote off her head at a stroke.\n\"Now take thy horse,\" cried out Sir Brewnor, \"for since I have lost my\nlady I will win thine and have thy life.\"\nSo they took their horses and came together as fast as they could fly,\nand Sir Tristram lightly smote Sir Brewnor from his horse. But he rose\nright quickly, and when Sir Tristram came again he thrust his horse\nthrough both the shoulders, so that it reeled and fell. But Sir Tristram\nwas light and nimble, and voided his horse, and rose up and dressed his\nshield before him, though meanwhile, ere he could draw out his sword,\nSir Brewnor gave him three or four grievous strokes. Then they rushed\nfuriously together like two wild boars, and fought hurtling and hewing\nhere and there for nigh two hours, and wounded each other full sorely.\nThen at the last Sir Brewnor rushed upon Sir Tristram and took him in\nhis arms to throw him, for he trusted greatly in his strength. But Sir\nTristram was at that time called the strongest and biggest knight of the\nworld; for he was bigger than Sir Lancelot, though Sir Lancelot was\nbetter breathed. So anon he thrust Sir Brewnor groveling to the earth,\nand then unlaced his helm and struck off his head. Then all they that\nbelonged to the castle came and did him homage and fealty, and prayed\nhim to abide there for a season and put an end to that foul custom.\nBut within a while he departed and came to Cornwall, and there King Mark\nwas forthwith wedded to La Belle Isault with great joy and splendor.\nAnd Sir Tristram had high honor, and ever lodged at the king's court.\nBut for all he had done him such services King Mark hated him, and on a\ncertain day he set two knights to fall upon him as he rode in the\nforest. But Sir Tristram lightly smote one's head off, and sorely\nwounded the other, and made him bear his fellow's body to the king. At\nthat the king dissembled and hid from Sir Tristram that the knights were\nsent by him; yet more than ever he hated him in secret, and sought to\nslay him.\nSo on a certain day, by the assent of Sir Andret, a false knight, and\nforty other knights, Sir Tristram was taken prisoner in his sleep and\ncarried to a chapel on the rocks above the sea to be cast down. But as\nthey were about to cast him in, suddenly he brake his bonds asunder, and\nrushing at Sir Andret, took his sword and smote him down therewith.\nThen, leaping down the rocks where none could follow, he escaped them.\nBut one shot after him and wounded him full sorely with a poisoned arrow\nin the arm.\nAnon, his servant Governale, with Sir Lambegus, sought him and found him\nsafe among the rocks, and told him that King Mark had banished him and\nall his followers to avenge Sir Andret's death. So they took ship and\ncame to Brittany.\nNow Sir Tristram, suffering great anguish from his wound, was told to\nseek Isoude, the daughter of the King of Brittany, for she alone could\ncure such wounds. Wherefore he went to King Howell's court, and said,\n\"Lord, I am come into this country to have help from thy daughter, for\nmen tell me none but she may help me.\" And Isoude gladly offering to do\nher best, within a month he was made whole.\nWhile he abode still at that court, an earl named Grip made war upon\nKing Howell, and besieged him; and Sir Kay Hedius, the king's son, went\nforth against him, but was beaten in battle and sore wounded. Then the\nking praying Sir Tristram for his help, he took with him such knights as\nhe could find, and on the morrow, in another battle, did such deeds of\narms that all the land spake of him. For there he slew the earl with his\nown hands, and more than a hundred knights besides.\nWhen he came back King Howell met him, and saluted him with every honor\nand rejoicing that could be thought of, and took him in his arms, and\nsaid, \"Sir Tristram, all my kingdom will I resign to thee.\"\n\"Nay,\" answered he, \"God forbid, for truly am I beholden to you forever\nfor your daughter's sake.\"\nThen the king prayed him to take Isoude in marriage, with a great dower\nof lands and castles. To this Sir Tristram presently consenting anon\nthey were wedded at the court.\nBut within a while Sir Tristram greatly longed to see Cornwall, and Sir\nKay Hedius desired to go with him. So they took ship; but as soon as\nthey were at sea the wind blew them upon the coast of North Wales, nigh\nto Castle Perilous, hard by a forest wherein were many strange\nadventures ofttimes to be met. Then said Sir Tristram to Sir Kay Hedius,\n\"Let us prove some of them ere we depart.\" So they took their horses and\nrode forth.\nWhen they had ridden a mile or more, Sir Tristram spied a goodly knight\nbefore him well armed, who sat by a clear fountain with a strong horse\nnear him, tied to an oak-tree. \"Fair sir,\" said he, when they came near,\n\"ye seem to be a knight errant by your arms and harness, therefore make\nready now to joust with one of us, or both.\"\nThereat the knight spake not, but took his shield and buckled it round\nhis neck, and leaping on his horse caught a spear from his squire's\nhand.\nThen said Sir Kay Hedius to Sir Tristram, \"Let me assay him.\"\n\"Do thy best,\" said he.\nSo the two knights met, and Sir Kay Hedius fell sorely wounded in the\nbreast.\n\"Thou hast well jousted,\" cried Sir Tristram to the knight; \"now make\nready for me!\"\n\"I am ready,\" answered he, and encountered him, and smote him so heavily\nthat he fell down from his horse. Whereat, being ashamed, he put his\nshield before him, and drew his sword, crying to the strange knight to\ndo likewise. Then they fought on foot for well nigh two hours, till they\nwere both weary.\nAt last Sir Tristram said, \"In all my life I never met a knight so\nstrong and well-breathed as ye be. It were a pity we should further hurt\neach other. Hold thy hand, fair knight, and tell me thy name.\"\n\"That will I,\" answered he, \"if thou wilt tell me thine.\"\n\"My name,\" said he, \"is Sir Tristram of Lyonesse.\"\n\"And mine, Sir Lamoracke of Gaul.\"\nThen both cried out together, \"Well met;\" and Sir Lamoracke said, \"Sir\nfor your great renown, I will that ye have all the worship of this\nbattle, and therefore will I yield me unto you.\" And therewith he took\nhis sword by the point to yield him.\n\"Nay,\" said Sir Tristram, \"ye shall not do so, for well I know ye do it\nof courtesy, and not of dread.\" And therewith he offered his sword to\nSir Lamoracke, saying, \"Sir, as an overcome knight, I yield me unto you\nas unto the man of noblest powers I have ever met with.\"\n\"Hold,\" said Sir Lamoracke, \"let us now swear together nevermore to\nfight against each other.\"\nThen did they swear as he said.\nThen Sir Tristram returned to Sir Kay Hedius, and when he was whole of\nhis wounds, they departed together in a ship, and landed on the coast of\nCornwall. And when they came ashore, Sir Tristram eagerly sought news of\nLa Belle Isault. And one told him in mistake that she was dead. Whereat,\nfor sore and grievous sorrow, he fell down in a swoon, and so lay for\nthree days and nights.\nWhen he awoke therefrom he was crazed, and ran into the forest and abode\nthere like a wild man many days; whereby he waxed lean and weak of body,\nand would have died, but that a hermit laid some meat beside him as he\nslept. Now in that forest was a giant named Tauleas, who, for fear of\nTristram, had hid himself within a castle, but when they told him he was\nmad, came forth and went at large again. And on a certain day he saw a\nknight of Cornwall, named Sir Dinaunt, pass by with a lady, and when he\nhad alighted by a well to rest, the giant leaped out from his ambush,\nand took him by the throat to slay him. But Sir Tristram, as he wandered\nthrough the forest, came upon them as they struggled; and when the\nknight cried out for help, he rushed upon the giant, and taking up Sir\nDinaunt's sword, struck off therewith the giant's head, and straightway\ndisappeared among the trees.\nAnon, Sir Dinaunt took the head of Tauleas, and bare it with him to the\ncourt of King Mark, whither he was bound, and told of his adventures.\n\"Where had ye this adventure?\" said King Mark.\n\"At a fair fountain in thy forest,\" answered he.\n\"I would fain see that wild man,\" said the king.\nSo within a day or two he commanded his knights to a great hunting in\nthe forest. And when the king came to the well, he saw a wild man lying\nthere asleep, having a sword beside him; but he knew not that it was Sir\nTristram. Then he blew his horn, and summoned all his knights to take\nhim gently up and bear him to the court.\nAnd when they came thereto they bathed and washed him, and brought him\nsomewhat to his right mind. Now La Belle Isault knew not that Sir\nTristram was in Cornwall; but when she heard that a wild man had been\nfound in the forest, she came to see him. And so sorely was he changed,\nshe knew him not. \"Yet,\" said she to Dame Bragwaine, \"in good faith I\nseem to have beheld him ofttimes before.\"\nAs she thus spoke a little hound, which Sir Tristram had given her when\nshe first came to Cornwall, and which was ever with her, saw Sir\nTristram lying there, and leapt upon him, licking his hands and face,\nand whined and barked for joy.\n\"Alas,\" cried out La Belle Isault, \"it is my own true knight, Sir\nTristram.\"\nAnd at her voice Sir Tristram's senses wholly came again, and wellnigh\nhe wept for joy to see his lady living.\nBut never would the hound depart from Tristram; and when King Mark and\nother knights came up to see him, it sat upon his body and bayed at all\nwho came too near. Then one of the knights said, \"Surely this is Sir\nTristram; I see it by the hound.\"\n\"Nay,\" said the king, \"it cannot be,\" and asked Sir Tristram on his\nfaith who he was.\n\"My name,\" said he, \"is Sir Tristram of Lyonesse, and now ye may do what\nye list with me.\"\nThen the king said, \"It repents me that ye are recovered,\" and sought to\nmake his barons slay him. But most of them would not assent thereto, and\ncounseled him instead to banish Tristram for ten years again from\nCornwall, for returning without orders from the king. So he was sworn to\ndepart forthwith.\nAnd as he went towards the ship a knight of King Arthur, named Sir\nDinadan, who sought him, came and said, \"Fair knight, ere that you pass\nout of this country, I pray you joust with me!\"\n\"With a good will,\" said he.\nThen they ran together, and Sir Tristram lightly smote him from his\nhorse. Anon he prayed Sir Tristram's leave to bear him company, and when\nhe had consented they rode together to the ship.\nThen was Sir Tristram full of bitterness of heart, and said to all the\nknights who took him to the shore, \"Greet well King Mark and all mine\nenemies from me, and tell them I will come again when I may. Well am I\nnow rewarded for slaying Sir Marhaus, and delivering this kingdom from\nits bondage, and for the perils wherewithal I brought La Belle Isault\nfrom Ireland to the king, and rescued her at the Castle Pluere, and for\nthe slaying of the giant Tauleas, and all the other deeds that I have\ndone for Cornwall and King Mark.\" Thus angrily and passing bitterly he\nspake, and went his way.\nAnd after sailing awhile the ship stayed at a landing-place upon the\ncoast of Wales; and there Sir Tristram and Sir Dinadan alighted, and on\nthe shore they met two knights, Sir Ector and Sir Bors. And Sir Ector\nencountered with Sir Dinadan and smote him to the ground; but Sir Bors\nwould not encounter with Sir Tristram, \"For,\" said he, \"no Cornish\nknights are men of worship.\" Thereat Sir Tristram was full wroth, but\npresently there met them two more knights, Sir Bleoberis and Sir Driant;\nand Sir Bleoberis proffered to joust with Sir Tristram, who shortly\nsmote him down.\n\"I had not thought,\" cried out Sir Bors, \"that any Cornish knight could\ndo so valiantly.\"\nThen Sir Tristram and Sir Dinadan departed, and rode into a forest, and\nas they rode a damsel met them, who for Sir Lancelot's sake was seeking\nany noble knights to rescue him. For Queen Morgan le Fay, who hated him,\nhad ordered thirty men-at-arms to lie in ambush for him as he passed,\nwith the intent to kill him. So the damsel prayed them to rescue him.\nThen said Sir Tristram, \"Bring me to that place, fair damsel.\"\nBut Sir Dinadan cried out, \"It is not possible for us to meet with\nthirty knights! I will take no part in such a hardihood, for to match\none or two or three knights is enough; but to match fifteen I will\nnever assay.\"\n\"For shame,\" replied Sir Tristram, \"do but your part.\"\n\"That will I not,\" said he; \"wherefore, I pray ye, lend me your shield,\nfor it is of Cornwall, and because men of that country are deemed\ncowards, ye are but little troubled as ye ride with knights to joust\nwith.\"\n\"Nay,\" said Sir Tristram, \"I will never give my shield up for her sake\nwho gave it me; but if thou wilt not stand by me to-day I will surely\nslay thee; for I ask no more of thee than to fight one knight, and if\nthy heart will not serve thee that much, thou shalt stand by and look on\nme and them.\"\n\"Would God that I had never met with ye!\" cried Sir Dinadan; \"but I\npromise to look on and do all that I may to save myself.\"\nAnon they came to where the thirty knights lay waiting, and Sir Tristram\nrushed upon them, saying, \"Here is one who fights for love of Lancelot!\"\nThen slew he two of them at the first onset with his spear, and ten more\nswiftly after with his sword. At that Sir Dinadan took courage, and\nassailed the others with him, till they turned and fled.\nBut Sir Tristram and Sir Dinadan rode on till nightfall, and meeting\nwith a shepherd, asked him if he knew of any lodging thereabouts.\n\"Truly, fair lords,\" said he, \"there is good lodging in a castle hard\nby, but it is a custom there that none shall lodge therein save ye first\njoust with two knights, and as soon as ye be within, ye shall find your\nmatch.\"\n\"That is an evil lodging,\" said Sir Dinadan; \"lodge where ye will, I\nwill not lodge there.\"\n\"Shame on thee!\" said Sir Tristram; \"art thou a knight at all?\"\nThen he required him on his knighthood to go with him, and they rode\ntogether to the castle. As soon as they were near, two knights came out\nand ran full speed against them; but both of them they overthrew, and\nwent within the castle, and had noble cheer. Now, when they were unarmed\nand ready to take rest, there came to the castle-gate two knights, Sir\nPalomedes and Sir Gaheris, and desired the custom of the castle.\n\"I would far rather rest than fight,\" said Sir Dinadan.\n\"That may not be,\" replied Sir Tristram, \"for we must needs defend the\ncustom of the castle, seeing we have overcome its lords; therefore, make\nready.\"\n\"Alas that I ever came into your company,\" said Sir Dinadan.\nSo they made ready, and Sir Gaheris encountered Sir Tristram and fell\nbefore him; but Sir Palomedes overthrew Sir Dinadan. Then would all\nfight on foot save Sir Dinadan, for he was sorely bruised and frighted\nby his fall. And when Sir Tristram prayed him to fight, \"I will not,\"\nanswered he, \"for I was wounded by those thirty knights with whom we\nfought this morning; and as to you, ye are in truth like one gone mad,\nand who would cast himself away! There be but two knights in the world\nso mad, and the other is Sir Lancelot, with whom I once rode forth, who\nkept me evermore at battling so that for a quarter of a year thereafter\nI lay in my bed. Heaven defend me again from either of your\nfellowships!\"\n\"Well,\" said Sir Tristram, \"if it must be, I will fight them both.\"\nTherewith he drew his sword and assailed Sir Palomedes and Sir Gaheris\ntogether; but Sir Palomedes said, \"Nay, but it is a shame for two to\nfight with one.\" So he bade Sir Gaheris stand by, and he and Sir\nTristram fought long together; but in the end Sir Tristram drave him\nbackward, whereat Sir Gaheris and Sir Dinadan with one accord sundered\nthem. Then Sir Tristram prayed the two knights to lodge there; but\nDinadan departed and rode away into a priory hard by, and there he\nlodged that night.\nAnd on the morrow came Sir Tristram to the priory to find him, and\nseeing him so weary that he could not ride, he left him, and departed.\nAt that same priory was lodged Sir Pellinore, who asked Sir Dinadan Sir\nTristram's name, but could not learn it, for Sir Tristram had charged\nthat he should remain unknown. Then said Sir Pellinore, \"Since ye will\nnot tell it me, I will ride after him and find it myself.\"\n\"Beware, Sir knight,\" said Sir Dinadan, \"ye will repent it if ye follow\nhim.\"\nBut Sir Pellinore straightway mounted and overtook him, and cried to him\nto joust; whereat Sir Tristram forthwith turned and smote him down; and\nwounded him full sorely in the shoulder.\nOn the day after, Sir Tristram met a herald, who told him of a\ntournament proclaimed between King Carados of Scotland, and the King of\nNorth Wales, to be held at the Maiden's Castle. Now King Carados sought\nSir Lancelot to fight there on his side, and the King of North Wales\nsought Sir Tristram. And Sir Tristram purposed to be there. So as he\nrode, he met Sir Key, the seneschal, and Sir Sagramour, and Sir Key\nproffered to joust with him. But he refused, desiring to keep himself\nunwearied for the tourney. Then Sir Key cried, \"Sir knight of Cornwall,\njoust with me, or yield as recreant.\" When Sir Tristram heard that, he\nfiercely turned and set his spear in rest, and spurred his horse towards\nhim. But when Sir Key saw him so madly coming on, he in his turn\nrefused, whereat Sir Tristram called him coward, till for shame he was\ncompelled to meet him. Then Sir Tristram lightly smote him down, and\nrode away. But Sir Sagramour pursued him, crying loudly to joust with\nhim also. So Sir Tristram turned and quickly overthrew him likewise, and\ndeparted.\nAnon a damsel met him as he rode, and told him of a knight adventurous\nwho did great harm thereby, and prayed him for his help. But as he went\nwith her he met Sir Gawain, who knew the damsel for a maiden of Queen\nMorgan le Fay. Knowing, therefore, that she needs must have evil plots\nagainst Sir Tristram, Sir Gawain demanded of him courteously whither he\nwent.\n\"I know not whither,\" said he, \"save as this damsel leadeth me.\"\n\"Sir,\" said Sir Gawain, \"ye shall not ride with her, for she and her\nlady never yet did good to any;\" and, drawing his sword, he said to the\ndamsel, \"Tell me now straightway for what cause thou leadest this\nknight, or else shalt thou die; for I know of old thy lady's treason.\"\n\"Mercy, Sir Gawain,\" cried the damsel, \"and I will tell thee all.\" Then\nshe told him that Queen Morgan had ordained thirty fair damsels to seek\nout Sir Lancelot and Sir Tristram, and by their wiles persuade them to\nher castle, where she had thirty knights in wait to slay them.\n\"Oh shame!\" cried Sir Gawain, \"that ever such foul treason should be\nwrought by a queen, and a king's sister.\" Then said he to Sir Tristram,\n\"Sir knight, if ye will stand with me, we will together prove the malice\nof these thirty knights.\"\n\"I will not fail you,\" answered he, \"for but few days since I had to do\nwith thirty knights of that same queen, and trust we may win honor as\nlightly now as then.\"\nSo they rode together, and when they came to the castle, Sir Gawain\ncried aloud, \"Queen Morgan le Fay, send out thy knights that we may\nfight with them.\"\nThen the queen urged her knights to issue forth, but they durst not, for\nthey well knew Sir Tristram, and feared him greatly.\nSo Sir Tristram and Sir Gawain went on their way, and as they rode they\nsaw a knight, named Sir Brewse-without-pity, chasing a lady, with intent\nto slay her. Then Sir Gawain prayed Sir Tristram to hold still and let\nhim assail that knight. So he rode up between Sir Brewse and the lady,\nand cried, \"False knight, turn thee to me and leave that lady.\" Then Sir\nBrewse turned and set his spear in rest, and rushed against Sir Gawain\nand overthrew him, and rode his horse upon him as he lay, which when Sir\nTristram saw, he cried, \"Forbear that villainy,\" and galloped at him.\nBut when Sir Brewse saw by the shield it was Sir Tristram, he turned and\nfled. And though Sir Tristram followed swiftly after him, yet he was so\nwell horsed that he escaped.\nAnon Sir Tristram and Sir Gawain came nigh the Maiden's Castle, and\nthere an old knight named Sir Pellonnes gave them lodging. And Sir\nPersides, the son of Sir Pellonnes, a good knight, came out to welcome\nthem. And, as they stood talking at a bay window of the castle, they saw\na goodly knight ride by on a black horse, and carrying a black shield.\n\"What knight is that?\" asked Tristram.\n\"One of the best knights in all the world,\" said Sir Persides.\n\"Is he Sir Lancelot?\" said Sir Tristram.\n\"Nay,\" answered Sir Persides, \"it is Sir Palomedes, who is yet\nunchristened.\"\nWithin a while one came and told them that a knight with a black shield\nhad smitten down thirteen knights. \"Let us go and see this jousting,\"\nsaid Sir Tristram. So they armed themselves and went down. And when Sir\nPalomedes saw Sir Persides, he sent a squire to him and proffered him to\njoust. So they jousted, and Sir Persides was overthrown. Then Sir\nTristram made ready to joust, but ere he had his spear in rest, Sir\nPalomedes took him at advantage, and struck him on the shield so that he\nfell. At that Sir Tristram was wroth out of measure and sore ashamed,\nwherefore he sent a squire and prayed Sir Palomedes to joust once again.\nBut he would not, saying, \"Tell thy master to revenge himself to-morrow\nat the Maiden's Castle, where he shall see me again.\"\nSo on the morrow Sir Tristram commanded his servant to give him a black\nshield with no cognizance thereon, and he and Sir Persides rode into the\ntournament and joined King Carados' side.\nThen the knights of the King of North Wales came forth, and there was a\ngreat fighting and breaking of spears, and overthrow of men and horses.\nNow King Arthur sat above in a high gallery to see the tourney and give\nthe judgment, and Sir Lancelot sat beside him. Then came against Sir\nTristram and Sir Persides, two knights with them of North Wales, Sir\nBleoberis and Sir Gaheris; and Sir Persides was smitten down and nigh\nslain, for four horsemen rode over him. But Sir Tristram rode against\nSir Gaheris and smote him from his horse, and when Sir Bleoberis next\nencountered him, he overthrew him also. Anon they horsed themselves\nagain, and with them came Sir Dinadan, whom Sir Tristram forthwith smote\nso sorely, that he reeled off his saddle. Then cried he, \"Ah! Sir\nknight, I know ye better than ye deem, and promise nevermore to come\nagainst ye.\" Then rode Sir Bleoberis at him the second time, and had a\nbuffet that felled him to the earth. And soon thereafter the king\ncommanded to cease for that day, and all men marveled who Sir Tristram\nwas, for the prize of the first day was given him in the name of the\nKnight of the Black Shield.\nNow Sir Palomedes was on the side of the King of North Wales, but knew\nnot Sir Tristram again. And, when he saw his marvelous deeds, he sent to\nask his name. \"As to that,\" said Sir Tristram, \"he shall not know at\nthis time, but tell him he shall know when I have broken two spears upon\nhim, for I am the knight he smote down yesterday, and whatever side he\ntaketh, I will take the other.\"\nSo when they told him that Sir Palomedes would be on King Carados'\nside--for he was kindred to King Arthur--\"Then will I be on the King of\nNorth Wales' side,\" said he, \"but else would I be on my lord King\nArthur's.\"\nThen on the morrow, when King Arthur was come, the heralds blew unto the\ntourney. And King Carados jousted with the King of a Hundred Knights and\nfell before him, and then came in King Arthur's knights and bare back\nthose of North Wales. But anon Sir Tristram came to aid them and bare\nback the battle, and fought so mightily that none could stand against\nhim, for he smote down on the right and on the left, so that all the\nknights and common people shouted his praise.\n\"Since I bare arms,\" said King Arthur, \"never saw I a knight do more\nmarvelous deeds.\"\nThen the King of the Hundred Knights and those of North Wales set upon\ntwenty knights who were of Sir Lancelot's kin, who fought all together,\nnone failing the others. When Sir Tristram beheld their nobleness and\nvalor, he marveled much. \"Well may he be valiant and full of prowess,\"\nsaid he, \"who hath such noble knights for kindred.\" So, when he had\nlooked on them awhile, he thought it shame to see two hundred men\nassailing twenty, and riding to the King of a Hundred Knights, he said,\n\"I pray thee, Sir king, leave your fighting with those twenty knights,\nfor ye be too many and they be too few. For ye shall gain no honor if ye\nwin, and that I see verily ye will not do unless ye slay them; but if ye\nwill not stay, I will ride with them and help them.\"\n\"Nay,\" said the king, \"ye shall not do so; for full gladly I will do\nyour courtesy,\" and with that he withdrew his knights.\nThen Sir Tristram rode his way into the forest, that no man might know\nhim. And King Arthur caused the heralds to blow that the tourney should\nend that day, and he gave the King of North Wales the prize, because Sir\nTristram was on his side. And in all the field there was such a cry that\nthe sound thereof was heard two miles away--\"The knight with the black\nshield hath won the field.\"\n\"Alas!\" said King Arthur, \"where is that knight? it is shame to let him\nthus escape us.\" Then he comforted his knights, and said, \"Be not\ndismayed, my friends, howbeit ye have lost the day; be of good cheer;\nto-morrow I myself will be in the field, and fare with you.\" So they all\nrested that night.\nAnd on the morrow the heralds blew unto the field. So the King of North\nWales and the King of a Hundred Knights encountered with King Carados\nand the King of Ireland, and overthrew them. With that came King Arthur,\nand did mighty deeds of arms, and overthrew the King of North Wales and\nhis fellows, and put twenty valiant knights to the worse. Anon came in\nSir Palomedes, and made great fight upon King Arthur's side. But Sir\nTristram rode furiously against him, and Sir Palomedes was thrown from\nhis horse. Then cried King Arthur, \"Knight of the Black Shield, keep\nthyself.\" And as he spake he came upon him, and smote him from his\nsaddle to the ground, and so passed on to other knights. Then Sir\nPalomedes having now another horse rushed at Sir Tristram, as he was on\nfoot, thinking to run over him. But he was aware of him, and stepped\naside, and grasped Sir Palomedes by the arms, and pulled him off his\nhorse. Then they rushed together with their swords, and many stood still\nto gaze on them. And Sir Tristram smote Sir Palomedes with three mighty\nstrokes upon the helm, crying at each stroke, \"Take this for Sir\nTristram's sake,\" and with that Sir Palomedes fell to the earth.\nAnon the King of North Wales brought Sir Tristram another horse, and Sir\nPalomedes found one also. Then did they joust again with passing rage,\nfor both by now were like mad lions. But Sir Tristram avoided his spear,\nand seized Sir Palomedes by the neck, and pulled him from his saddle,\nand bore him onward ten spears' length, and so let him fall. Then King\nArthur drew forth his sword and smote the spear asunder, and gave Sir\nTristram two or three sore strokes ere he could get at his own sword.\nBut when he had it in his hand he mightily assailed the king. With that\neleven knights of Lancelot's kin went forth against him, but he smote\nthem all down to the earth, so that men marveled at his deeds.\nAnd the cry was now so great that Sir Lancelot got a spear in his hand,\nand came down to assay Sir Tristram, saying, \"Knight with the black\nshield, make ready.\" When Sir Tristram heard him he leveled his spear,\nand both stooping their heads, they ran together mightily, as it had\nbeen thunder. And Sir Tristram's spear brake short, but Sir Lancelot\nstruck him with a deep wound in the side and broke his spear, yet\noverthrew him not. Therewith Sir Tristram, smarting at his wound, drew\nforth his sword, and rushing at Sir Lancelot, gave him mighty strokes\nupon the helm, so that the sparks flew from it, and Sir Lancelot stooped\nhis head down to the saddle-bow. But then Sir Tristram turned and left\nthe field, for he felt his wound so grievous that he deemed he should\nsoon die. Then did Sir Lancelot hold the field against all comers, and\nput the King of North Wales and his party to the worse. And because he\nwas the last knight in the field the prize was given him.\nBut he refused to take it, and when the cry was raised, \"Sir Lancelot\nhath won the day,\" he cried out, \"Nay, but Sir Tristram is the victor,\nfor he first began and last endured, and so hath he done each day.\" And\nall men honored Lancelot more for his knightly words than if he had\ntaken the prize.\nThis was the tournament ended, and King Arthur departed to Caerleon, for\nthe Whitsun feast was now nigh come, and all the knights adventurous\nwent their ways. And many sought Sir Tristram in the forest whither he\nhad gone, and at last Sir Lancelot found him, and brought him to King\nArthur's court, as hath been told already.\nSIR GALAHAD AND THE QUEST OF THE HOLY GRAIL\nXIII\nTHE KNIGHTS GO TO SEEK THE GRAIL\nAfter these things Merlin fell into a dotage of love for a damsel of the\nlady of the lake, and would let her have no rest, but followed her in\nevery place. And ever she encouraged him, and made him welcome till she\nhad learned all his crafts that she desired to know.\nThen upon a time she went with him beyond the sea to the land of\nBenwicke, and as they went he showed her many wonders, till at length\nshe was afraid, and would fain have been delivered from him.\nAnd as they were in the forest of Broceliande, they sat together under\nan oak-tree, and the damsel prayed to see all that charm whereby men\nmight be shut up yet alive in rocks or trees. But he refused her a long\ntime, fearing to let her know, yet in the end, her prayers and kisses\novercame him, and he told her all. Then did she make him great cheer,\nbut anon, as he lay down to sleep, she softly rose, and walked about him\nwaving her hands and muttering the charm, and presently enclosed him\nfast within the tree whereby he slept. And therefrom nevermore he could\nby any means come out for all the crafts that he could do. And so she\ndeparted and left Merlin.\nAt the vigil of the next Feast of Pentecost, when all the Knights of the\nRound Table were met together at Camelot, and had heard mass, and were\nabout to sit down to meat, there rode into the hall a fair lady on\nhorseback, who went straight up to King Arthur where he sat upon his\nthrone, and reverently saluted him.\n\"God be with thee, fair damsel,\" quoth the king; \"what desirest thou of\nme?\"\n\"I pray thee tell me, lord,\" she answered, \"where Sir Lancelot is.\"\n\"Yonder may ye see him,\" said King Arthur.\nThen went she to Sir Lancelot and said, \"Sir, I salute thee in King\nPelles' name, and require thee to come with me into the forest hereby.\"\nThen asked he her with whom she dwelt, and what she wished of him.\n\"I dwell with King Pelles,\" said she, \"whom Balin erst so sorely wounded\nwhen he smote the dolorous stroke. It is he who hath sent me to call\nthee.\"\n\"I will go with thee gladly,\" said Sir Lancelot, and bade his squire\nstraightway saddle his horse and bring his armor.\nThen came the queen to him and said, \"Sir Lancelot, will ye leave me\nthus at this high feast?\"\n\"Madam,\" replied the damsel, \"by dinner-time to-morrow he shall be with\nyou.\"\n\"If I thought not,\" said the queen, \"he should not go with thee by my\ngoodwill.\"\nThen Sir Lancelot and the lady rode forth till they came to the forest,\nand in a valley thereof found an abbey of nuns, whereby a squire stood\nready to open the gates. When they had entered, and descended from their\nhorses, a joyful crowd pressed round Sir Lancelot and heartily saluted\nhim, and led him to the abbess's chamber, and unarmed him. Anon he saw\nhis cousins likewise there, Sir Bors and Sir Lionel, who also made great\njoy at seeing him, and said, \"By what adventure art thou here, for we\nthought to have seen thee at Camelot to-morrow?\"\n\"A damsel brought me here,\" said he, \"but as yet I know not for what\nservice.\"\nAs they thus talked twelve nuns came in, who brought with them a youth\nso passing fair and well made, that in all the world his match could not\nbe found. His name was Galahad, and though he knew him not, nor Lancelot\nhim, Sir Lancelot was his father.\n\"Sir,\" said the nuns, \"we bring thee here this child whom we have\nnourished from his youth, and pray thee to make him a knight, for from\nno worthier hand can he receive that order.\"\nThen Sir Lancelot, looking on the youth, saw that he was seemly and\ndemure as a dove, with every feature good and noble, and thought he\nnever had beheld a better fashioned man of his years. \"Cometh this\ndesire from himself?\" said he.\n\"Yea,\" answered Galahad and all the nuns.\n\"To-morrow, then, in reverence for the feast, he shall have his wish,\"\nsaid Sir Lancelot.\nAnd the next day at the hour of prime, he knighted him, and said, \"God\nmake of thee as good a man as He hath made thee beautiful.\"\nThen with Sir Lionel and Sir Bors he returned to the court, and found\nall gone to the minster to hear service. When they came into the\nbanquet-hall each knight and baron found his name written in some seat\nin letters of gold, as \"here ought to sit Sir Lionel,\" \"here ought to\nsit Sir Gawain,\"--and so forth. And in the Perilous Seat, at the high\ncenter of the table, a name was also written, whereat they marveled\ngreatly, for no living man had ever yet dared sit upon that seat, save\none, and him a flame leaped forth and drew down under earth, so that he\nwas no more seen.\nThen came Sir Lancelot and read the letters in that seat, and said, \"My\ncounsel is that this inscription be now covered up until the knight be\ncome who shall achieve this great adventure.\" So they made a veil of\nsilk and put it over the letters.\nIn the meanwhile came Sir Gawain to the court and told the king he had a\nmessage to him from beyond the sea, from Merlin.\n\"For,\" said he, \"as I rode through the forest of Broceliande but five\ndays since, I heard the voice of Merlin speaking to me from the midst of\nan oak-tree, whereat, in great amazement, I besought him to come forth.\nBut he, with many groans, replied he never more might do so, for that\nnone could free him, save the damsel of the Lake, who had enclosed him\nthere by his own spells which he had taught her. 'But go,' said he, 'to\nKing Arthur, and tell him, that he now prepare his knights and all his\nTable Round to seek the Sangreal, for the time is come when it shall be\nachieved.'\"\nWhen Sir Gawain had spoken thus, King Arthur sat pensive in spirit, and\nmused deeply of the Holy Grail and what saintly knight should come who\nmight achieve it.\nAnon he bade them hasten to set on the banquet. \"Sir,\" said Sir Key, the\nseneschal, \"if we go now to meat ye will break the ancient custom of\nyour court, for never have ye dined at this high feast till ye have seen\nsome strange adventure.\"\n\"Thou sayest truly,\" said the king, \"but my mind was full of wonders and\nmusings, till I bethought me not of mine old custom.\"\nAs they stood speaking thus, a squire ran in and cried, \"Lord, I bring\nthee marvelous tidings.\"\n\"What be they?\" said King Arthur.\n\"Lord,\" said he, \"hereby at the river is a marvelous great stone, which\nI myself saw swim down hither-wards upon the water, and in it there is\nset a sword, and ever the stone heaveth and swayeth on the water, but\nfloateth down no further with the stream.\"\n\"I will go and see it,\" said the king. So all the knights went with him,\nand when they came to the river, there surely found they a mighty stone\nof red marble floating on the water, as the squire had said, and\ntherein stuck a fair and rich sword, on the pommel whereof were precious\nstones wrought skillfully with gold into these words: \"No man shall take\nme hence but he by whose side I should hang, and he shall be the best\nknight in the world.\"\nWhen the king read this, he turned round to Sir Lancelot, and said,\n\"Fair sir, this sword ought surely to be thine, for thou art the best\nknight in all the world.\"\nBut Lancelot answered soberly, \"Certainly, sir, it is not for me; nor\nwill I have the hardihood to set my hand upon it. For he that toucheth\nit and faileth to achieve it shall one day be wounded by it mortally.\nBut I doubt not, lord, this day will show the greatest marvels that we\nyet have seen, for now the time is fully come, as Merlin hath forewarned\nus, when all the prophecies about the Sangreal shall be fulfilled.\"\nThen stepped Sir Gawain forward and pulled at the sword, but could not\nmove it, and after him Sir Percival, to keep him fellowship in any peril\nhe might suffer. But no other knight durst be so hardy as to try.\n\"Now may ye go to your dinner,\" said Sir Key, \"for a marvelous adventure\nye have had.\"\nSo all returned from the river, and every knight sat down in his own\nplace, and the high feast and banquet then was sumptuously begun, and\nall the hall was full of laughter and loud talk and jests, and running\nto and fro of squires who served their knights, and noise of jollity and\nmirth.\nThen suddenly befell a wondrous thing, for all the doors and windows of\nthe hall shut violently of themselves, and made thick darkness; and\npresently there came a fair and gentle light from out the Perilous Seat,\nand filled the palace with its beams. Then a dead silence fell on all\nthe knights, and each man anxiously beheld his neighbor.\nBut King Arthur rose and said, \"Lords and fair knights, have ye no fear,\nbut rejoice; we have seen strange things to-day, but stranger yet\nremain. For now I know we shall to-day see him who may sit in the Siege\nPerilous, and shall achieve the Sangreal. For as ye all well know, that\nholy vessel, wherefrom at the Supper of our Lord before His death He\ndrank the wine with His disciples, hath been held ever since the holiest\ntreasure of the world, and wheresoever it hath rested peace and\nprosperity have rested with it on the land. But since the dolorous\nstroke which Balin gave King Pelles none have seen it, for Heaven, wroth\nwith that presumptuous blow, hath hid it none know where. Yet somewhere\nin the world it still may be, and may be it is left to us, and to this\nnoble order of the Table Round, to find and bring it home, and make of\nthis our realm the happiest in the earth. Many great quests and perilous\nadventures have ye all taken and achieved, but this high quest he only\nshall attain who hath clean hands and a pure heart, and valor and\nhardihood beyond all other men.\"\nWhile the king spoke there came in softly an old man robed all in white,\nleading with him a young knight clad in red from top to toe, but without\narmor or shield, and having by his side an empty scabbard.\nThe old man went up to the king, and said, \"Lord, here I bring thee this\nyoung knight of royal lineage, and of the blood of Joseph of Arimathea,\nby whom the marvels of thy court shall fully be accomplished.\"\nThe king was right glad at his words, and said, \"Sir, ye be right\nheartily welcome, and the young knight also.\"\nThen the old man put on Sir Galahad (for it was he) a crimson robe\ntrimmed with fine ermine, and took him by the hand and led him to the\nPerilous Seat, and lifting up the silken cloth which hung upon it, read\nthese words written in gold letters, \"This is the seat of Sir Galahad,\nthe good knight.\"\n\"Sir,\" said the old man, \"this place is thine.\"\nThen sat Sir Galahad down firmly and surely, and said to the old man,\n\"Sir, ye may now go your way, for ye have done well and truly all ye\nwere commanded, and commend me to my grandsire, King Pelles, and say\nthat I shall see him soon.\" So the old man departed with a retinue of\ntwenty noble squires.\nBut all the knights of the Round Table marveled at Sir Galahad, and at\nhis tender age, and at his sitting there so surely in the Perilous Seat.\nThen the king led Sir Galahad forth from the palace, to show him the\nadventure of the floating stone. \"Here,\" said he, \"is as great a marvel\nas I ever saw, and right good knights have tried and failed to gain that\nsword.\"\n\"I marvel not thereat,\" said Galahad, \"for this adventure is not theirs,\nbut mine; and for the certainty I had thereof, I brought no sword with\nme, as thou mayst see here by this empty scabbard.\"\nAnon he laid his hand upon the sword, and lightly drew it from the\nstone, and put it in his sheath, and said, \"This sword was that\nenchanted one which erst belonged to the good knight, Sir Balin,\nwherewith he slew through piteous mistake his brother Balan; who also\nslew him at the same time: all which great woe befell him through the\ndolorous stroke he gave my grandsire, King Pelles, the wound whereof is\nnot yet whole, nor shall be till I heal him.\"\nAs he stood speaking thus, they saw a lady riding swiftly down the\nriver's bank towards them, on a white palfrey, who, saluting the king\nand queen, said, \"Lord king, Nacien the hermit sendeth thee word that to\nthee shall come to-day the greatest honor and worship that hath yet ever\nbefallen a king of Britain; for this day shall the Sangreal appear in\nthy house.\"\nWith that the damsel took her leave, and departed the same way she came.\n\"Now,\" said the king, \"I know that from to-day the quest of the Sangreal\nshall begin, and all ye of the Round Table will be scattered so that\nnevermore shall I see ye again together as ye are now; let me then see a\njoust and tournament amongst ye for the last time before ye go.\"\nSo they all took their harness and met together in the meadows by\nCamelot, and the queen and all her ladies sat in a tower to see.\nThen Sir Galahad, at the prayer of the king and queen, put on a coat of\nlight armor, and a helmet, but shield he would take none, and grasping a\nlance, he drove into the middle of the press of knights, and began to\nbreak spears marvelously, so that all men were full of wonder. And in so\nshort a time he had surmounted and exceeded the rest, save Sir Lancelot\nand Sir Percival, that he took the chief worship of the field.\nThen the king and all the court and fellowship of knights went back to\nthe palace, and so to evensong in the great minster, a royal and goodly\ncompany, and after that sat down to supper in the hall, every knight in\nhis own seat, as they had been before.\nAnon suddenly burst overhead the cracking and crying of great peals of\nthunder, till the palace walls were shaken sorely, and they thought to\nsee them riven all to pieces.\nAnd in the midst of the blast there entered in a sunbeam, clearer by\nseven times than ever they saw day, and a marvelous great glory fell\nupon them all. Then each knight, looking on his neighbor, found his face\nfairer than he had ever seen, and so--all standing on their feet--they\ngazed as dumb men on each other, not knowing what to say.\nThen entered into the hall the Sangreal, borne aloft without hands\nthrough the midst of the sunbeam, and covered with white samite, so that\nnone might see it. And all the hall was filled with perfume and incense,\nand every knight was fed with the food he best loved. And when the holy\nvessel had been thus borne through the hall, it suddenly departed, no\nman saw whither.\nWhen they recovered breath to speak, King Arthur first rose up, and\nyielded thanks to God and to our Lord.\nThen Sir Gawain sprang up and said, \"Now have we all been fed by miracle\nwith whatsoever food we thought of or desired; but with our eyes we have\nnot seen the blessed vessel whence it came, so carefully and preciously\nit was concealed. Therefore, I make a vow, that from to-morrow I shall\nlabor twelve months and a day in quest of the Sangreal, and longer if\nneed be; nor will I come again into this court until mine eyes have seen\nit evidently.\"\nWhen he had spoken thus, knight after knight rose up and vowed himself\nto the same quest, till the most part of the Round Table had thus sworn.\nBut when King Arthur heard them all, he could not refrain his eyes from\ntears, and said, \"Sir Gawain, Sir Gawain, thou hast set me in great\nsorrow, for I fear me my true fellowship shall never meet together here\nagain; and surely never Christian king had such a company of worthy\nknights around his table at one time.\"\nAnd when the queen and her ladies and gentlewomen heard the vows, they\nhad such grief and sorrow as no tongue could tell; and Queen Guinevere\ncried out, \"I marvel that my lord will suffer them to depart from him.\"\nAnd many of the ladies who loved knights would have gone with them, but\nwere forbidden by the hermit Nacien, who sent this message to all who\nhad sworn themselves to the quest: \"Take with ye no lady nor\ngentlewoman, for into so high a service as ye go in, no thought but of\nour Lord and heaven may enter.\"\nOn the morrow morning all the knights rose early, and when they were\nfully armed, save shields and helms, they went in with the king and\nqueen to service in the minster. Then the king counted all who had taken\nthe adventure on themselves, and found them a hundred and fifty knights\nof the Round Table; and so they all put on their helms, and rode away\ntogether in the midst of cries and lamentations from the court, and from\nthe ladies, and from all the town.\nBut the queen went alone to her chamber, that no man might see her\nsorrow; and Sir Lancelot followed her to say farewell.\nWhen she saw him she cried out, \"Oh, Sir Lancelot, thou hast betrayed\nme; thou hast put me to death thus to depart and leave my lord the\nking.\"\n\"Ah, madam,\" said he, \"be not displeased or angry, for I shall come\nagain as soon as I can with honor.\"\n\"Alas!\" said she, \"that ever I saw thee; but He that suffered death upon\nthe cross for all mankind be to thee safety and good conduct, and to all\nthy company.\"\nThen Sir Lancelot saluted her and the king, and went forth with the\nrest, and came with them that night to Castle Vagon, where they abode,\nand on the morrow they departed from each other on their separate ways,\nevery knight taking the way that pleased him best.\nNow Sir Galahad went forth without a shield, and rode so four days\nwithout adventure; and on the fourth day, after evensong, he came to an\nabbey of white monks, where he was received in the house, and led into a\nchamber. And there he was unarmed, and met two knights of the Round\nTable, King Bagdemagus, and Sir Uwaine.\n\"Sirs,\" said Sir Galahad, \"what adventure hath brought ye here?\"\n\"Within this place, as we are told,\" they answered, \"there is a shield\nno man may bear around his neck without receiving sore mischance, or\ndeath within three days.\"\n\"To-morrow,\" said King Bagdemagus, \"I shall attempt the adventure; and\nif I fail, do thou, Sir Galahad, take it up after me.\"\n\"I will willingly,\" said he; \"for as ye see I have no shield as yet.\"\nSo on the morrow they arose and heard mass, and afterwards King\nBagdemagus asked where the shield was kept. Then a monk led him behind\nthe altar, where the shield hung, as white as any snow, and with a\nblood-red cross in the midst of it.\n\"Sir,\" said the monk, \"this shield should hang from no knight's neck\nunless he be the worthiest in the world. I warn ye, therefore, knights;\nconsider well before ye dare to touch it.\"\n\"Well,\" said King Bagdemagus, \"I know well that I am far from the best\nknight in all the world, yet shall I make the trial\"; and so he took the\nshield, and bore it from the monastery.\n\"If it please thee,\" said he to Sir Galahad, \"abide here till thou\nhearest how I speed.\"\n\"I will abide thee,\" said he.\nThen taking with him a squire who might return with any tidings to Sir\nGalahad, the king rode forth; and before he had gone two miles, he saw\nin a fair valley a hermitage, and a knight who came forth dressed in\nwhite armor, horse and all, who rode fast against him. When they\nencountered, Bagdemagus brake his spear upon the White Knight's shield,\nbut was himself struck through the shoulder with a sore wound, and\nhurled down from his horse. Then the White Knight alighting, came and\ntook the white shield from the king, and said, \"Thou hast done great\nfolly, for this shield ought never to be borne but by one who hath no\nliving peer.\" And turning to the squire, he said, \"Bear thou this shield\nto the good knight, Sir Galahad, and greet him well from me.\"\n\"In whose name shall I greet him?\" said the squire.\n\"Take thou no heed of that,\" he answered; \"it is not for thee or any\nearthly man to know.\"\n\"Now tell me, fair sir, at the least,\" said the squire, \"why may this\nshield be never borne except its wearer come to injury or death?\"\n\"Because it shall belong to no man save its rightful owner, Galahad,\"\nreplied the knight.\nThen the squire went to his master, and found him wounded nigh to\ndeath, wherefore he fetched his horse, and bore him back with him to the\nabbey. And there they laid him in a bed, and looked to his wounds; and\nwhen he had lain many days grievously sick, he at the last barely\nescaped with his life.\n\"Sir Galahad,\" said the squire, \"the knight who overthrew King\nBagdemagus sent you greeting, and bade you bear this shield.\"\n\"Now blessed be God and fortune,\" said Sir Galahad, and hung the shield\nabout his neck, and armed him, and rode forth.\nAnon he met the White Knight by the hermitage, and each saluted\ncourteously the other.\n\"Sir,\" said Sir Galahad, \"this shield I bear hath surely a full\nmarvelous history.\"\n\"Thou sayest rightly,\" answered he. \"That shield was made in the days of\nJoseph of Arimathea, the gentle knight who took our Lord down from the\ncross. He, when he left Jerusalem with his kindred, came to the country\nof King Evelake, who warred continually with one Tollome; and when, by\nthe teaching of Joseph, King Evelake became a Christian, this shield was\nmade for him in our Lord's name; and through its aid King Tollome was\ndefeated. For when King Evelake met him next in battle, he hid it in a\nveil, and suddenly uncovering it, he showed his enemies the figure of a\nbleeding man nailed to a cross, at sight of which they were discomfited\nand fled. Presently after that, a man whose hand was smitten off touched\nthe cross upon the shield, and had his hand restored to him; and many\nother miracles it worked. But suddenly the cross that was upon it\nvanished away. Anon both Joseph and King Evelake came to Britain, and by\nthe preaching of Joseph the people were made Christians. And when at\nlength he lay upon his death-bed, King Evelake begged of him some token\nere he died. Then, calling for his shield, he dipped his finger in his\nown blood, for he was bleeding fast, and none could staunch the wound,\nand marked that cross upon it, saying, 'This cross shall ever show as\nbright as now, and the last of my lineage shall wear this shield about\nhis neck, and go forth to all the marvelous deeds he will achieve.'\"\nWhen the White Knight had thus spoken he vanished suddenly away, and Sir\nGalahad returned to the abbey.\nAs he alighted, came a monk, and prayed him to go see a tomb in the\nchurchyard, wherefrom came such a great and hideous noise, that none\ncould hear it but they went nigh mad, or lost all strength. \"And, sir,\"\nsaid he, \"I deem it is a fiend.\"\n\"Lead me thither,\" said Sir Galahad.\nWhen they were come near the place, \"Now,\" said the monk, \"go thou to\nthe tomb, and lift it up.\"\nAnd Galahad, nothing afraid, quickly lifted up the stone, and forthwith\ncame out a foul smoke, and from the midst thereof leaped up the\nloathliest figure that ever he had seen in the likeness of man; and\nGalahad blessed himself, for he knew it was a fiend of hell. Then he\nheard a voice crying out, \"Oh, Galahad, I cannot tear thee as I would; I\nsee so many angels round thee, that I may not come at thee.\"\nThen the fiend suddenly disappeared with a marvelous great cry; and Sir\nGalahad, looking in the tomb, saw there a body all armed, with a sword\nbeside it. \"Now, fair brother,\" said he to the monk, \"let us remove this\ncursed body, which is not fit to lie in a churchyard, for when it lived,\na false and perjured Christian man dwelt in it. Cast it away, and there\nshall come no more hideous noises from the tomb.\"\n\"And now must I depart,\" he added, \"for I have much in hand, and am upon\nthe holy quest of the Sangreal, with many more good knights.\"\nSo he took his leave, and rode many journeys backwards and forwards as\nadventure would lead him; and at last one day he departed from a castle\nwithout first hearing mass, which was it ever his custom to hear before\nhe left his lodging. Anon he found a ruined chapel on a mountain, and\nwent in and kneeled before the altar, and prayed for wholesome counsel\nwhat to do; and as he prayed he heard a voice, which said, \"Depart,\nadventurous knight, unto the Maiden's Castle, and redress the violence\nand wrongs there done!\"\nHearing these words he cheerfully arose, and mounted his horse, and rode\nbut half a mile, when he saw before him a strong castle, with deep\nditches round it, and a fair river running past. And seeing an old churl\nhard by, he asked him what men called that castle.\n\"Fair sir,\" said he, \"it is the Maiden's Castle.\"\n\"It is a cursed place,\" said Galahad, \"and all its masters are but\nfelons, full of mischief and hardness and shame.\"\n\"For that good reason,\" said the old man, \"thou wert well-advised to\nturn thee back.\"\n\"For that same reason,\" quoth Sir Galahad, \"will I the more certainly\nride on.\"\nThen, looking at his armor carefully, to see that nothing failed him, he\nwent forward, and presently there met him seven damsels, who cried out,\n\"Sir knight, thou ridest in great peril, for thou hast two waters to\npass over.\"\n\"Why should I not pass over them?\" said he, and rode straight on.\nAnon he met a squire, who said, \"Sir knight, the masters of this castle\ndefy thee, and bid thee go no further, till thou showest them thy\nbusiness here.\"\n\"Fair fellow,\" said Sir Galahad, \"I am come here to destroy their wicked\ncustoms.\"\n\"If that be thy purpose,\" answered he, \"thou wilt have much to do.\"\n\"Go thou,\" said Galahad, \"and hasten with my message.\"\nIn a few minutes after rode forth furiously from the gateways of the\ncastle seven knights, all brothers, and crying out, \"Knight, keep thee,\"\nbore down all at once upon Sir Galahad. But thrusting forth his spear,\nhe smote the foremost to the earth, so that his neck was almost broken,\nand warded with his shield the spears of all the others, which every one\nbrake off from it, and shivered into pieces. Then he drew out his sword,\nand set upon them hard and fiercely, and by his wondrous force drave\nthem before him, and chased them to the castle gate, and there he slew\nthem.\nAt that came out to him an ancient man, in priest's vestments, saying,\n\"Behold, sir, here, the keys of this castle.\"\nThen he unlocked the gates, and found within a multitude of people, who\ncried out, \"Sir knight, ye be welcome, for long have we waited thy\ndeliverance,\" and told him that the seven felons he had slain had long\nenslaved the people round about, and killed all knights who passed that\nway, because the maiden whom they had robbed of the castle had foretold\nthat by one knight they should themselves be overthrown.\n\"Where is the maiden?\" asked Sir Galahad.\n\"She lingereth below in a dungeon,\" said they.\nSo Sir Galahad went down and released her, and restored her her\ninheritance; and when he had summoned the barons of the country to do\nher homage, he took his leave, and departed.\nPresently thereafter, as he rode, he entered a great forest, and in a\nglade thereof met two knights, disguised, who proffered him to joust.\nThese were Sir Lancelot, his father, and Sir Percival, but neither knew\nthe other. So he and Sir Lancelot encountered first, and Sir Galahad\nsmote down his father. Then drawing his sword, for his spear was broken,\nhe fought with Sir Percival, and struck so mightily that he clave Sir\nPercival's helm, and smote him from his horse.\nNow hard by where they fought there was a hermitage, where dwelt a pious\nwoman, a recluse, who, when she heard the sound, came forth, and seeing\nSir Galahad ride, she cried, \"God be with thee, the best knight in the\nworld; had yonder knights known thee as well as I do, they would not\nhave encountered with thee.\"\nWhen Sir Galahad heard that, fearing to be made known, he forthwith\nsmote his horse with his spurs, and departed at a great pace.\nSir Lancelot and Sir Percival heard her words also, and rode fast after\nhim, but within a while he was out of their sight. Then Sir Percival\nrode back to ask his name of the recluse; but Sir Lancelot went forward\non his quest, and following any path his horse would take, he came\nby-and-by after nightfall to a stone cross hard by an ancient chapel.\nWhen he had alighted and tied his horse up to a tree, he went and looked\nin through the chapel door, which was all ruinous and wasted, and there\nwithin he saw an altar, richly decked with silk, whereon there stood a\nfair candlestick of silver, bearing six great lights. And when Sir\nLancelot saw the light, he tried to get within the chapel, but could\nfind no place. So, being passing weary and heavy, he came again to his\nhorse, and when he had unsaddled him, and set him free to pasture, he\nunlaced his helm, and ungirded his sword, and laid him down to sleep\nupon his shield before the cross.\nAnd while he lay between waking and sleeping, he saw come by him two\nwhite palfreys bearing a litter, wherein a sick knight lay, and the\npalfreys stood still by the cross. Then Sir Lancelot heard the sick man\nsay, \"O sweet Lord, when shall this sorrow leave me, and the holy\nvessel pass by me, wherethrough I shall be blessed? for I have long\nendured.\"\nWith that Sir Lancelot saw the chapel open, and the candlestick with the\nsix tapers come before the cross, but he could see none who bare it.\nThen came there also a table of silver, and thereon the holy vessel of\nthe Sangreal. And when the sick knight saw that, he sat up, and lifting\nboth his hands, said, \"Fair Lord, sweet Lord, who art here within this\nholy vessel, have mercy on me, that I may be whole\"; and therewith he\ncrept upon his hands and knees so nigh, that he might touch the vessel;\nand when he had kissed it, he leaped up, and stood and cried aloud,\n\"Lord God, I thank Thee, for I am made whole.\" Then the Holy Grail\ndeparted with the table and the silver candlestick into the chapel, so\nthat Sir Lancelot saw it no more, nor for his sins' sake could he follow\nit. And the knight who was healed went on his way.\nThen Sir Lancelot awake, and marveled whether he had seen aught but a\ndream. And as he marveled, he heard a voice saying, \"Sir Lancelot, thou\nart unworthy, go thou hence, and withdraw thee from this holy place.\"\nAnd when he heard that, he was passing heavy, for he bethought him of\nhis sins.\nSo he departed weeping, and cursed the day of his birth, for the words\nwent into his heart, and he knew wherefore he was thus driven forth.\nThen he went to seek his arms and horse, but could not find them; and\nthen he called himself the wretchedest and most unhappy of all knights,\nand said, \"My sin hath brought me unto great dishonor: for when I\nsought earthly honors, I achieved them ever; but now I take upon me holy\nthings, my guilt doth hinder me, and shameth me; therefore had I no\npower to stir or speak when the holy blood appeared before me.\"\nSo thus he sorrowed till it was day, and he heard the birds sing; then\nwas he somewhat comforted, and departing from the cross on foot, he came\ninto a wild forest, and to a high mountain, and there he found a\nhermitage; and, kneeling before the hermit down upon both his knees, he\ncried for mercy for his wicked works, and prayed him to hear his\nconfession. But when he told his name, the hermit marveled to see him in\nso sore a case, and said, \"Sir, ye ought to thank God more than any\nknight living, for He hath given thee more honor than any; yet for thy\npresumption, while in deadly sin to come into the presence of His flesh\nand blood, He suffered thee neither to see nor follow it. Wherefore,\nbelieve that all thy strength and manhood will avail thee little, when\nGod is against thee.\"\nThen Sir Lancelot wept and said, \"Now know I well ye tell me truth.\"\nThen he confessed to him, and told him all his sins, and how he had for\nfourteen years served but Queen Guinevere only, and forgotten God, and\ndone great deeds of arms for her, and not for Heaven, and had little or\nnothing thanked God for the honor that he won. And then Sir Lancelot\nsaid, \"I pray you counsel me.\"\n\"I will counsel thee,\" said he: \"never more enter into that queen's\ncompany when ye can avoid it.\"\nSo Sir Lancelot promised him.\n\"Look that your heart and your mouth accord,\" said the good man, \"and ye\nshall have more honor and more nobleness than ever ye have had.\"\nThen were his arms and horse restored to him, and so he took his leave,\nand rode forth, repenting greatly.\nNow Sir Percival had ridden back to the recluse, to learn who that\nknight was whom she had called the best in the world. And when he had\ntold her that he was Sir Percival, she made passing great joy of him,\nfor she was his mother's sister, wherefore she opened her door to him,\nand made him good cheer. And on the morrow she told him of her kindred\nto him, and they both made great rejoicing. Then he asked her who that\nknight was, and she told him, \"He it is who on Whit Sunday last was clad\nin the red robe, and bare the red arms; and he hath no peer, for he\nworketh all by miracle, and shall be never overcome by any earthly\nhands.\"\n\"By my goodwill,\" said Sir Percival, \"I will never after these tidings\nhave to do with Sir Galahad but in the way of kindness; and I would fain\nlearn where I may find him.\"\n\"Fair nephew,\" said she, \"ye must ride to the Castle of Goth, where he\nhath a cousin; by him ye may be lodged, and he will teach you the way to\ngo; but if he can tell you no tidings, ride straight to the Castle of\nCarbonek, where the wounded king is lying, for there shall ye surely\nhear true tidings of him.\"\nSo Sir Percival departed from his aunt, and rode till evensong time,\nwhen he was ware of a monastery closed round with walls and deep\nditches, where he knocked at the gate, and anon was let in. And there he\nhad good cheer that night, and on the morrow heard mass. And beside the\naltar where the priest stood, was a rich bed of silk and cloth of gold;\nand on the bed there lay a man passing old, having a crown of gold upon\nhis head, and all his body was full of great wounds, and his eyes almost\nwholly blind; and ever he held up his hands and said, \"Sweet Lord,\nforget not me!\"\nThen Sir Percival asked one of the brethren who he was.\n\"Sir,\" said the good man, \"ye have heard of Joseph of Arimathea, how he\nwas sent of Jesus Christ into this land to preach and teach the\nChristian faith. Now, in the city of Sarras he converted a king named\nEvelake, and this is he. He came with Joseph to this land, and ever\ndesired greatly to see the Sangreal; so on a time he came nigh thereto,\nand was struck almost blind. Then he cried out for mercy, and said,\n'Fair Lord, I pray thee let me never die until a good knight of my blood\nachieve the Sangreal, and I may see and kiss him.' When he had thus\nprayed, he heard a voice that said, 'Thy prayers be heard and answered,\nfor thou shalt not die till that knight kiss thee; and when he cometh\nshall thine eyes be opened and thy wounds be healed.' And now hath he\nlived here for three hundred winters in a holy life, and men say a\ncertain knight of King Arthur's court shall shortly heal him.\"\nThereat Sir Percival marveled greatly, for he well knew who that knight\nshould be; and so, taking his leave of the monk, departed.\nThen he rode on till noon, and came into a valley where he met twenty\nmen-at-arms bearing a dead knight on a bier. And they cried to him,\n\"Whence comest thou?\"\n\"From King Arthur's court,\" he answered.\nThen they all cried together, \"Slay him,\" and set upon him.\nBut he smote down the first man to the ground, and his horse upon him;\nwhereat seven of them all at once assailed him, and others slew his\nhorse. Thus he had been either taken or slain, but by good chance Sir\nGalahad was passing by that way, who, seeing twenty men attacking one,\ncried, \"Slay him not,\" and rushed upon them; and, as fast as his horse\ncould drive, he encountered with the foremost man, and smote him down.\nThen, his spear being broken, he drew forth his sword and struck out on\nthe right hand and on the left, at each blow smiting down a man, till\nthe remainder fled, and he pursued them.\nThen Sir Percival, knowing that it was Sir Galahad, would fain have\novertaken him, but could not, for his horse was slain. Yet followed he\non foot as fast as he could go; and as he went there met him a yeoman\nriding on a palfrey, and leading in his hand a great black steed. So Sir\nPercival prayed him to lend him the steed, that he might overtake Sir\nGalahad. But he replied, \"That can I not do, fair sir, for the horse is\nmy master's, and should I lend it he would slay me.\" So he departed, and\nSir Percival sat down beneath a tree in heaviness of heart. And as he\nsat, anon a knight went riding past on the black steed which the yeoman\nhad led. And presently after came the yeoman back in haste, and asked\nSir Percival if he had seen a knight riding his horse.\n\"Yea,\" said Sir Percival.\n\"Alas,\" said the yeoman, \"he hath reft him from me by strength, and my\nmaster will slay me.\"\nThen he besought Sir Percival to take his hackney and follow, and get\nback his steed. So he rode quickly, and overtook the knight, and cried,\n\"Knight, turn again.\" Whereat he turned and set his spear, and smote Sir\nPercival's hackney in the breast, so that it fell dead, and then went on\nhis way. Then cried Sir Percival after him, \"Turn now, false knight, and\nfight with me on foot\"; but he would not, and rode out of sight.\nThen was Sir Percival passing wroth and heavy of heart, and lay down to\nrest beneath a tree, and slept till midnight. When he awoke he saw a\nwoman standing by him, who said to him right fiercely, \"Sir Percival,\nwhat doest thou here?\"\n\"I do neither good nor evil,\" said he.\n\"If thou wilt promise me,\" said she, \"to do my will whenever I shall ask\nthee, I will bring thee here a horse that will bear thee wheresoever\nthou desirest.\"\nAt that he was full glad, and promised as she asked. Then anon she came\nagain, with a great black steed, strong and well appareled. So Sir\nPercival mounted, and rode through the clear moonlight, and within less\nthan an hour had gone a four days' journey, till he came to a rough\nwater that roared; and his horse would have borne him into it, but Sir\nPercival would not suffer him, yet could he scarce restrain him. And\nseeing the water so furious, he made the sign of the cross upon his\nforehead, whereat the horse suddenly shook him off, and with a terrible\nsound leaped into the water and disappeared, the waves all burning up in\nflames around him. Then Sir Percival knew it was a fiend which had\nbrought him the horse; so he commended himself to God, and prayed that\nhe might escape temptations, and continued in prayer till it was day.\nThen he saw that he was on a wild mountain, nigh surrounded on all sides\nby the sea, and filled with wild beasts; and going on into a valley, he\nsaw a serpent carrying a young lion by the neck. With that came another\nlion, crying and roaring after the serpent, and anon overtook him, and\nbegan to battle with him. And Sir Percival helped the lion, and drew his\nsword, and gave the serpent such a stroke that it fell dead. Thereat the\nlion fawned upon him like a dog, licking his hands, and crouching at his\nfeet, and at night lay down by him and slept at his side.\nAnd at noon the next day Sir Percival saw a ship come sailing before a\nstrong wind upon the sea towards him, and he rose and went towards it.\nAnd when it came to shore, he found it covered with white samite, and on\nthe deck there stood an old man dressed in priest's robes, who said,\n\"God be with you, fair sir; whence come ye?\"\n\"I am a knight of King Arthur's court,\" said he, \"and follow the quest\nof the Sangreal; but here have I lost myself in this wilderness.\"\n\"Fear nothing,\" said the old man, \"for I have come from a strange\ncountry to comfort thee.\"\nThen he told Sir Percival it was a fiend of hell upon which he had\nridden to the sea, and that the lion, whom he had delivered from the\nserpent, meant the Church. And Sir Percival rejoiced at these tidings,\nand entered into the ship, which presently sailed from the shore into\nthe sea.\nNow when Sir Bors rode forth from Camelot to seek the Sangreal, anon he\nmet a holy man riding on an ass, and courteously saluted him.\n\"Who are ye, son?\" said the good man.\n\"I am a knight,\" said he, \"in quest of the Sangreal, and would fain have\nthy counsel, for he shall have much earthly honor who may bring it to a\nfavorable end.\"\n\"That is truth,\" said the good man, \"for he shall be the best knight of\nthe world; yet know that none shall gain it save by sinless living.\"\nSo they rode to his hermitage together, and there he prayed Sir Bors to\nabide that night, and anon they went into the chapel, and Sir Bors was\nconfessed. And they eat bread and drank water together.\n\"Now,\" said the hermit, \"I pray thee eat no other food till thou sit at\nthe table where the Sangreal shall be.\" Thereto Sir Bors agreed.\n\"Also,\" said the hermit, \"it were wise that ye should wear a sackcloth\ngarment next your skin, for penance\"; and in this also did Sir Bors as\nhe was counseled. And afterwards he armed himself and took his leave.\nThen rode he onwards all that day, and as he rode he saw a passing great\nbird sit in an old dry tree, whereon no leaves were left; and many\nlittle birds lay round the great one, nigh dead with hunger. Then did\nthe big bird smite himself with his own bill, and bled till he died\namongst his little ones, and they recovered life in drinking up his\nblood. When Sir Bors saw this he knew it was a token, and rode on full\nof thought. And about eventide he came to a tower, whereto he prayed\nadmission, and he was received gladly by the lady of the castle. But\nwhen a supper of many meats and dainties was set before him, he\nremembered his vow, and bade a squire to bring him water, and therein he\ndipped his bread, and ate.\nThen said the lady, \"Sir Bors, I fear ye like not my meat.\"\n\"Yea, truly,\" said he; \"God thank thee, madam; but I may eat no other\nmeat this day.\"\nAfter supper came a squire, and said, \"Madam, bethink thee to provide a\nchampion for thee to-morrow for the tourney, or else shall thy sister\nhave thy castle.\"\nAt that the lady wept, and made great sorrow. But Sir Bors prayed her to\nbe comforted, and asked her why the tournament was held. Then she told\nhim how she and her sister were the daughters of King Anianse, who left\nthem all his lands between them; and how her sister was the wife of a\nstrong knight, named Sir Pridan le Noir, who had taken from herself all\nher lands, save the one tower wherein she dwelt. \"And now,\" said she,\n\"this also will they take, unless I find a champion by to-morrow.\"\nThen said Sir Bors, \"Be comforted; to-morrow I will fight for thee\";\nwhereat she rejoiced not a little, and sent word to Sir Pridan that she\nwas provided and ready. And Sir Bors lay on the floor, and in no bed,\nnor ever would do otherwise till he had achieved his quest.\nOn the morrow he arose and clothed himself, and went into the chapel,\nwhere the lady met him, and they heard mass together. Anon he called for\nhis armor, and went with a goodly company of knights to the battle. And\nthe lady prayed him to refresh himself ere he should fight, but he\nrefused to break his fast until the tournament were done. So they all\nrode together to the lists, and there they saw the lady's eldest sister,\nand her husband, Sir Pridan le Noir. And a cry was made by the heralds\nthat, whichever should win, his lady should have all the other's lands.\nThen the two knights departed asunder a little space, and came together\nwith such force, that both their spears were shivered, and their shields\nand hauberks pierced through; and both fell to the ground sorely\nwounded, with their horses under them. But swiftly they arose, and drew\ntheir swords, and smote each other on the head with many great and\nheavy blows, till the blood ran down their bodies; and Sir Pridan was a\nfull good knight, so that Sir Bors had more ado than he had thought for\nto overcome him.\nBut at last Sir Pridan grew a little faint; that instantly perceived Sir\nBors, and rushed upon him the more vehemently, and smote him fiercely,\ntill he rent off his helm, and then gave him great strokes upon his\nvisage with the flat of his sword, and bade him yield or be slain.\nAnd then Sir Pridan cried him mercy, and said, \"For God's sake slay me\nnot, and I will never war against thy lady more.\" So Sir Bors let him\ngo, and his wife fled away with all her knights.\nThen all those who had held lands of the lady of the tower came and did\nhomage to her again, and swore fealty. And when the country was at peace\nSir Bors departed, and rode forth into a forest until it was midday, and\nthere befell him a marvelous adventure.\nFor at a place where two ways parted, there met him two knights, bearing\nSir Lionel, his brother, all naked, bound on a horse, and as they rode,\nthey beat him sorely with thorns, so that the blood trailed down in more\nthan a hundred places from his body; but for all this he uttered no word\nor groan, so great he was of heart. As soon as Sir Bors knew his\nbrother, he put his spear in rest to run and rescue him; but in the same\nmoment heard a woman's voice cry close beside him in the wood, \"St.\nMary, succor thy maid\"; and, looking round, he saw a damsel whom a felon\nknight dragged after him into the thickets; and she, perceiving him,\ncried piteously for help, and adjured him to deliver her as he was a\nsworn knight. Then was Sir Bors sore troubled, and knew not what to do,\nfor he thought within himself, \"If I let my brother be, he will be\nmurdered; but if I help not the maid, she is shamed forever, and my vow\ncompelleth me to set her free; wherefore must I first help her, and\ntrust my brother unto God.\"\nSo, riding to the knight who held the damsel, he cried out, \"Sir knight,\nlay your hand off that maid, or else ye be but dead.\"\nAt that the knight set down the maid, and dropped his shield, and drew\nforth his sword against Sir Bors, who ran at him, and smote him through\nboth shield and shoulder, and threw him to the earth; and when he pulled\nhis spear forth, the knight swooned. Then the maid thanked Sir Bors\nheartily, and he set her on the knight's horse, and brought her to her\nmen-at-arms, who presently came riding after her. And they made much\njoy, and besought him to come to her father, a great lord, and he should\nbe right welcome. But \"truly,\" said he, \"I may not at this time, for I\nhave a great adventure yet to do\"; and commending them to God, he\ndeparted in great haste to find his brother.\nSo he rode, seeking him by the track of the horses a great while. Anon\nhe met a seeming holy man riding upon a strong black horse, and asked\nhim, had he seen pass by that way a knight led bound and beaten with\nthorns by two others.\n\"Yea, truly, such an one I saw,\" said the man; \"but he is dead, and lo!\nhis body is hard by in a bush.\"\nThen he showed him a newly slain body lying in a thick bush, which\nseemed indeed to be Sir Lionel. Then made Sir Bors such mourning and\nsorrow that by-and-by he fell into a swoon upon the ground. And when he\ncame to himself again, he took the body in his arms and put it on his\nhorse's saddle, and bore it to a chapel hard by, and would have buried\nit. But when he made the sign of the cross, he heard a full great noise\nand cry as though all the fiends of hell had been about him, and\nsuddenly the body and the chapel and the old man vanished all away. Then\nhe knew that it was the devil who had thus beguiled him, and that his\nbrother yet lived.\nThen held he up his hands to heaven, and thanked God for his own escape\nfrom hurt, and rode onwards; and anon, as he passed by an hermitage in a\nforest, he saw his brother sitting armed by the door. And when he saw\nhim he was filled with joy, and lighted from his horse, and ran to him\nand said, \"Fair brother, when came ye hither?\"\nBut Sir Lionel answered, with an angry face, \"What vain words be these,\nwhen for you I might have been slain? Did ye not see me bound and led\naway to death, and left me in that peril to go succoring a gentlewoman,\nthe like whereof no brother ever yet hath done? Now, for thy false\nmisdeed, I do defy thee, and ensure thee speedy death.\"\nThen Sir Bors prayed his brother to abate his anger, and said, \"Fair\nbrother, remember the love that should be between us twain.\"\nBut Sir Lionel would not hear, and prepared to fight, and mounted his\nhorse and came before him, crying, \"Sir Bors, keep thee from me, for I\nshall do to thee as a felon and a traitor; therefore, start upon thy\nhorse, for if thou wilt not, I will run upon thee as thou standest.\"\nBut for all his words Sir Bors would not defend himself against his\nbrother. And anon the fiend stirred up Sir Lionel to such rage, that he\nrushed over him and overthrew him with his horse's hoofs, so that he lay\nswooning on the ground. Then would he have rent off his helm and slain\nhim, but the hermit of that place ran out, and prayed him to forbear,\nand shielded Sir Bors with his body.\nThen Sir Lionel cried out, \"Now, God so help me, sir priest, but I shall\nslay thee else thou depart, and him too after thee.\"\nAnd when the good man utterly refused to leave Sir Bors, he smote him on\nthe head until he died, and then he took his brother by the helm and\nunlaced it, to have stricken off his head, and so he would have done,\nbut suddenly was pulled off backwards by a knight of the Round Table,\nwho, by the will of Heaven, was passing by that place--Sir Colgrevance\nby name.\n\"Sir Lionel,\" he cried, \"will ye slay your brother, one of the best\nknights of all the world? That ought no man to suffer.\"\n\"Why,\" said Sir Lionel, \"will ye hinder me and meddle in this strife?\nbeware, lest I shall slay both thee and him.\"\nAnd when Sir Colgrevance refused to let them be, Sir Lionel defied him,\nand gave him a great stroke through the helmet, whereat Sir Colgrevance\ndrew his sword, and smote again right manfully. And so long they fought\ntogether that Sir Bors awoke from his swoon, and tried to rise and part\nthem, but had no strength to stand upon his feet.\nAnon Sir Colgrevance saw him, and cried out to him for help, for now Sir\nLionel had nigh defeated him. When Sir Bors heard that, he struggled to\nhis feet, and put his helmet on, and took his sword. But before he could\ncome to him, Sir Lionel had smitten off Sir Colgrevance's helm, and\nthrown him to the earth and slain him. Then turned he to his brother as\na man possessed by fiends, and gave him such a stroke as bent him nearly\ndouble.\nBut Sir Bors prayed him for God's sake to quit that battle, \"For if it\nbefell us that we either slew the other we should die for care of that\nsin.\"\n\"Never will I spare thee if I master thee,\" cried out Sir Lionel.\nThen Sir Bors drew his sword all weeping, and said, \"Now, God have mercy\non me, though I defend my life against my brother\"; with that he lifted\nup his sword to strike, but suddenly he heard a mighty voice, \"Put up\nthy sword, Sir Bors, and flee, or thou shalt surely slay him.\" And then\nthere fell upon them both a fiery cloud, which flamed and burned their\nshields, and they fell to the earth in sore dread.\nAnon Sir Bors rose to his feet, and saw that Sir Lionel had taken no\nharm. Then came the voice again, and said, \"Sir Bors, go hence and leave\nthy brother, and ride thou forward to the sea, for there Sir Percival\nabideth thee.\"\nThen he said to his brother, \"Brother, forgive me all my trespass\nagainst thee.\"\nAnd Sir Lionel answered, \"God forgive it thee, as I do.\"\nThen he departed and rode to the sea, and on the strand he found a ship\nall covered with white samite, and as soon as he had entered thereinto,\nit put forth from the shore. And in the midst of the ship there stood an\narmed knight, whom he knew to be Sir Percival. Then they rejoiced\ngreatly over each other, and said, \"We lack nothing now but the good\nknight Sir Galahad.\"\nNow when Sir Galahad had rescued Sir Percival from the twenty knights he\nrode into a vast forest. And after many days it befell that he came to a\ncastle whereat was a tournament. And the knights of the castle were put\nto the worse; which when he saw, he set his spear in rest and ran to\nhelp them, and smote down many of their adversaries. And as it chanced,\nSir Gawain was amongst the stranger knights, and when he saw the white\nshield with the red cross, he knew it was Sir Galahad, and proffered to\njoust with him. So they encountered, and having broken their spears,\nthey drew their swords, and Sir Galahad smote Sir Gawain so sorely on\nthe helm that he clove it through, and struck on slanting to the earth,\ncarving the horse's shoulder in twain, and Sir Gawain fell to the earth.\nThen Sir Galahad beat back all who warred against the castle, yet would\nhe not wait for thanks, but rode away that no man might know him.\nAnd he rested that night at a hermitage, and when he was asleep, he\nheard a knocking at the door. So he rose, and found a damsel there, who\nsaid, \"Sir Galahad, I will that ye arm you, and mount upon your horse\nand follow me, for I will show you within these three days the highest\nadventure that ever any knight saw.\"\nAnon Sir Galahad armed him, and took his horse, and commended himself to\nGod, and bade the gentlewoman go, and he would follow where she liked.\nSo they rode onwards to the sea as fast as their horses might gallop,\nand at night they came to a castle in a valley, inclosed by running\nwater, and by strong and high walls, whereinto they entered and had\ngreat cheer, for the lady of the castle was the damsel's mistress.\nAnd when he was unarmed, the damsel said to her lady, \"Madam, shall we\nabide here this night?\"\n\"Nay,\" said she, \"but only till he hath dined and slept a little.\"\nSo he ate and slept a while, till the maid called him, and armed him by\ntorchlight; and when he had saluted the lady of the castle, the damsel\nand Sir Galahad rode on.\nAnon they came to the seaside, and lo! the ship, wherein were Sir\nPercival and Sir Bors, abode by the shore. Then they cried, \"Welcome,\nSir Galahad, for we have awaited thee long.\"\nThen they rejoiced to see each other, and told of all their adventures\nand temptations. And the damsel went into the ship with them, and spake\nto Sir Percival: \"Sir Percival, know ye not who I am?\"\nAnd he replied, \"Nay, certainly, I know thee not.\"\nThen said she, \"I am thy sister, the daughter of King Pellinore, and am\nsent to help thee and these knights, thy fellows, to achieve the quest\nwhich ye all follow.\"\nSo Sir Percival rejoiced to see his sister, and they departed from the\nshore. And after a while they came upon a whirlpool, where their ship\ncould not live. Then saw they another greater ship hard by and went\ntowards it, but saw neither man nor woman therein. And on the end of it\nthese words were written, \"Thou who shalt enter me, beware that thou be\nin steadfast belief, for I am Faith; and if thou doubtest, I cannot help\nthee.\" Then were they all adread, but, commending themselves to God,\nthey entered in.\nAs soon as they were on board they saw a fair bed, whereon lay a crown\nof silk, and at the foot was a fair and rich sword drawn from its\nscabbard half a foot and more. The pommel was of precious stones of many\ncolors, every color having a different virtue, and the scales of the\nhaft were of two ribs of different beasts. The one was bone of a serpent\nfrom Calidone forest, named the serpent of the fiend; and its virtue\nsaveth all men who hold it from weariness. The other was of a fish that\nhaunteth the floods of Euphrates, named Ertanax; and its virtue causeth\nwhoever holdeth it to forget all other things, whether of joy or pain,\nsave the thing he seeth before him.\n\"In the name of God,\" said Sir Percival, \"I shall assay to handle this\nsword\"; and set his hand to it, but could not grasp it. \"By my faith,\"\nsaid he, \"now have I failed.\"\nSir Bors set his hand to it, and failed also.\nThen came Sir Galahad, and saw these letters written red as blood, \"None\nshall draw me forth save the hardiest of all men; but he that draweth me\nshall never be shamed or wounded to death.\" \"By my faith,\" said Sir\nGalahad, \"I would draw it forth, but dare not try.\"\n\"Ye may try safely,\" said the gentlewoman, Sir Percival's sister, \"for\nbe ye well assured the drawing of this sword is forbid to all but you.\nFor this was the sword of David, King of Israel, and Solomon his son\nmade for it this marvelous pommel and this wondrous sheath, and laid it\non this bed till thou shouldest come and take it up; and though before\nthee some have dared to raise it, yet have they all been maimed or\nwounded for their daring.\"\n\"Where,\" said Sir Galahad, \"shall we find a girdle for it?\"\n\"Fair sir,\" said she, \"dismay you not\"; and therewith took from out a\nbox a girdle, nobly wrought with golden thread, set full of precious\nstones and with a rich gold buckle. \"This girdle, lords,\" said she, \"is\nmade for the most part of mine own hair, which, while I was yet in the\nworld, I loved full well; but when I knew that this adventure was\nordained me, I cut off and wove as ye now see.\"\nThen they all prayed Sir Galahad to take the sword, and so anon he\ngripped it in his fingers; and the maiden girt it round his waist,\nsaying, \"Now reck I not though I die, for I have made thee the worthiest\nknight of all the world.\"\n\"Fair damsel,\" said Sir Galahad, \"ye have done so much that I shall be\nyour knight all the days of my life.\"\nThen the ship sailed a great way on the sea, and brought them to land\nnear the Castle of Carteloise. When they were landed came a squire and\nasked them, \"Be ye of King Arthur's court?\"\n\"We are,\" said they.\n\"In an evil hour are ye come,\" said he, and went back swiftly to the\ncastle.\nWithin a while they heard a great horn blow, and saw a multitude of\nwell-armed knights come forth, who bade them yield or die. At that they\nran together, and Sir Percival smote one to the earth and mounted his\nhorse, and so likewise did Sir Bors and Sir Galahad, and soon had they\nrouted all their enemies and alighted on foot, and with their swords\nslew them downright, and entered into the castle.\nThen came there forth a priest, to whom Sir Galahad kneeled and said,\n\"In sooth, good father, I repent me of this slaughter; but we were first\nassailed, or else it had not been.\"\n\"Repent ye not,\" said the good man, \"for if ye lived as long as the\nworld lasted ye could do no better deed, for these were all the felon\nsons of a good knight, Earl Hernox, whom they have thrown into a\ndungeon, and in his name have slain priests and clerks, and beat down\nchapels far and near.\"\nThen Sir Galahad prayed the priest to bring him to the earl; who, when\nhe saw Sir Galahad, cried out, \"Long have I waited for thy coming, and\nnow I pray thee hold me in thine arms that I may die in peace.\"\nAnd therewith, when Sir Galahad had taken him in his arms, his soul\ndeparted from his body.\nThen came a voice in the hearing of them all, \"Depart now, Sir Galahad,\nand go quickly to the maimed king, for he hath long abided to receive\nhealth from thy hand.\"\nSo the three knights departed, and Sir Percival's sister with them, and\ncame to a vast forest, and saw before them a white hart, exceeding fair,\nled by four lions; and marveling greatly at that sight, they followed.\nAnon they came to a hermitage and a chapel, whereunto the hart entered,\nand the lions with it. Then a priest offered mass, and presently they\nsaw the hart change into the figure of a man, most sweet and comely to\nbehold; and the four lions also changed and became a man, an eagle, a\nlion, and an ox. And suddenly all those five figures vanished without\nsound. Then the knights marveled greatly, and fell upon their knees, and\nwhen they rose they prayed the priest to tell them what that sight might\nmean.\n\"What saw ye, sirs?\" said he, \"for I saw nothing.\" Then they told him.\n\"Ah, lords!\" said he, \"ye are full welcome; now know I well ye be the\nknights who shall achieve the Sangreal, for unto them alone such\nmysteries are revealed. The hart ye saw is One above all men, white and\nwithout blemish, and the four lions with Him are the four evangelists.\"\nWhen they heard that they heartily rejoiced, and thanking the priest,\ndeparted.\nAnon, as they passed by a certain castle, an armed knight suddenly came\nafter them, and cried out to the damsel, \"By the holy cross, ye shall\nnot go till ye have yielded to the custom of the castle.\"\n\"Let her go,\" said Sir Percival, \"for a maiden, wheresoever she cometh,\nis free.\"\n\"Whatever maiden passeth here,\" replied the knight, \"must give a dishful\nof her blood from her right arm.\"\n\"It is a foul and shameful custom,\" cried Sir Galahad and both his\nfellows, \"and sooner will we die than let this maiden yield thereto.\"\n\"Then shall ye die,\" replied the knight, and as he spake there came out\nfrom a gate hard by, ten or twelve more, and encountered with them,\nrunning upon them vehemently with a great cry. But the three knights\nwithstood them, and set their hands to their swords, and beat them down\nand slew them.\nAt that came forth a company of threescore knights, all armed. \"Fair\nlords,\" said Sir Galahad, \"have mercy on yourselves and keep from us.\"\n\"Nay, fair lords,\" they answered, \"rather be advised by us, and yield ye\nto our custom.\"\n\"It is an idle word,\" said Galahad, \"in vain ye speak it.\"\n\"Well,\" said they, \"will ye die?\"\n\"We be not come thereto as yet,\" replied Sir Galahad.\nThen did they fall upon each other, and Sir Galahad drew forth his\nsword, and smote on the right hand and on the left, and slew so mightily\nthat all who saw him thought he was a monster and no earthly man. And\nboth his comrades helped him well, and so they held the field against\nthat multitude till it was night. Then came a good knight forward from\nthe enemy and said, \"Fair knights, abide with us to-night and be right\nwelcome; by the faith of our bodies as we are true knights, to-morrow ye\nshall rise unharmed, and meanwhile maybe ye will, of your own accord,\naccept the custom of the castle when ye know it better.\"\nSo they entered and alighted and made great cheer. Anon, they asked them\nwhence that custom came. \"The lady of this castle is a leper,\" said\nthey, \"and can be no way cured save by the blood of a pure virgin and a\nking's daughter; therefore to save her life are we her servants bound to\nstay every maid that passeth by, and try if her blood may not cure our\nmistress.\"\nThen said the damsel, \"Take ye of my blood as much as ye will, if it may\navail your lady.\"\nAnd though the three knights urged her not to put her life in that great\nperil, she replied, \"If I die to heal another's body, I shall get health\nto my soul,\" and would not be persuaded to refuse.\nSo on the morrow she was brought to the sick lady, and her arm was\nbared, and a vein thereof was opened, and the dish filled with her\nblood. Then the sick lady was anointed therewith, and anon she was whole\nof her malady. With that Sir Percival's sister lifted up her hand and\nblessed her, saying, \"Madam, I am come to my death to make you whole;\nfor God's love pray for me\"; and thus saying she fell down in a swoon.\nThen Sir Galahad, Sir Percival, and Sir Bors started to lift her up and\nstaunch her blood, but she had lost too much to live. So when she came\nto herself she said to Sir Percival, \"Fair brother, I must die for the\nhealing of this lady, and now, I pray thee, bury me not here, but when I\nam dead put me in a boat at the next haven and let me float at venture\non the sea. And when ye come to the city of Sarras, to achieve the\nSangreal, shall ye find me waiting by a tower, and there I pray thee\nbury me, for there shall Sir Galahad and ye also be laid.\" Thus having\nsaid, she died.\nThen Sir Percival wrote all the story of her life and put it in her\nright hand, and so laid her in a barge and covered it with silk. And\nthe wind arising drove the barge from land, and all the knights stood\nwatching it till it was out of sight.\nAnon they returned to the castle, and forthwith fell a sudden tempest of\nthunder and lightning and rain, as if the earth were broken up: and half\nthe castle was thrown down. Then came a voice to the three knights which\nsaid, \"Depart ye now asunder till ye meet again where the maimed king is\nlying.\" So they parted and rode divers ways.\nNow after Sir Lancelot had left the hermit, he rode a long while till he\nknew not whither to turn, and so he lay down to sleep, if haply he might\ndream whither to go.\nAnd in his sleep a vision came to him saying, \"Lancelot, rise up and\ntake thine armor, and enter the first ship that thou shalt find.\"\nWhen he awoke he obeyed the vision, and rode till he came to the\nsea-shore, and found there a ship without sails or oars, and as soon as\nhe was in it he smelt the sweetest savor he had ever known, and seemed\nfilled with all things he could think of or desire. And looking round he\nsaw a fair bed, and thereon a gentlewoman lying dead, who was Sir\nPercival's sister. And as Sir Lancelot looked on her he spied the\nwriting in her right hand, and, taking it, he read therein her story.\nAnd more than a month thereafter he abode in that ship and was nourished\nby the grace of Heaven, as Israel was fed with manna in the desert.\nAnd on a certain night he went ashore to pass the time, for he was\nsomewhat weary, and, listening, he heard a horse come towards him, from\nwhich a knight alighted and went up into the ship; who, when he saw Sir\nLancelot, said, \"Fair sir, ye be right welcome to mine eyes, for I am\nthy son Galahad, and long time I have sought for thee.\" With that he\nkneeled and asked his blessing, and took off his helm and kissed him,\nand the great joy there was between them no tongue can tell.\nThen for half a year they dwelt together in the ship, and served God\nnight and day with all their powers, and went to many unknown islands,\nwhere none but wild beasts haunted, and there found many strange and\nperilous adventures.\nAnd upon a time they came to the edge of a forest, before a cross of\nstone, and saw a knight armed all in white, leading a white horse. Then\nthe knight saluted them, and said to Galahad, \"Ye have been long time\nenough with your father; now, therefore, leave him and ride this horse\ntill ye achieve the Holy Quest.\"\nThen went Sir Galahad to his father and kissed him full courteously, and\nsaid, \"Fair father, I know not when I shall see thee again.\"\nAnd as he took his horse a voice spake in their hearing, \"Ye shall meet\nno more in this life.\"\n\"Now, my son, Sir Galahad,\" said Sir Lancelot, \"since we must so part\nand see each other never more, I pray the High Father of Heaven to\npreserve both you and me.\"\nThen they bade farewell, and Sir Galahad entered the forest, and Sir\nLancelot returned to the ship, and the wind rose and drove him more than\na month through the sea, whereby he slept but little, yet ever prayed\nthat he might see the Sangreal.\nSo it befell upon a certain midnight, the moon shining clear, he came\nbefore a fair and rich castle, whereof the postern gate was open towards\nthe sea, having no keeper save two lions in the entry.\nAnon Sir Lancelot heard a voice: \"Leave now thy ship and go within the\ncastle, and thou shalt see a part of thy desire.\"\nThen he armed and went towards the gate, and coming to the lions he drew\nout his sword, but suddenly a dwarf rushed out and smote him on the arm,\nso that he dropt his sword, and heard again the voice, \"Oh, man of evil\nfaith, and poor belief, wherefore trustest thou thine arms above thy\nMaker?\" Then he put up his sword and signed the cross upon his forehead,\nand so passed by the lions without hurt.\nAnd going in, he found a chamber with the door shut, which in vain he\ntried to open. And listening thereat he heard a voice within, which sang\nso sweetly that it seemed no earthly thing, \"Joy and honor be to the\nFather of Heaven!\" Then he kneeled down at the door, for he knew well\nthe Sangreal was there within.\nAnon the door was opened without hands, and forthwith came thereout so\ngreat a splendor as if all the torches of the world had been alight\ntogether. But when he would have entered in, a voice forbade him;\nwherefore he drew back, and looked, standing upon the threshold of the\ndoor. And there he saw a table of silver, and the holy vessel covered\nwith red samite, and many angels round it holding burning candles and a\ncross and all the ornaments of the altar.\nThen a priest stood up and offered mass, and when he took the vessel up,\nhe seemed to sink beneath that burden. At that Sir Lancelot cried, \"O\nFather, take it not for sin that I go in to help the priest, who hath\nmuch need thereof.\" So saying, he went in, but when he came towards the\ntable he felt a breath of fire which issued out therefrom and smote him\nto the ground, so that he had no power to rise.\nThen felt he many hands about him, which took him up and laid him down\noutside the chapel door. There lay he in a swoon all through that night,\nand on the morrow certain people found him senseless, and bore him to an\ninner chamber and laid him on a bed. And there he rested, living, but\nmoving no limbs, twenty-four days and nights.\nOn the twenty-fifth day he opened his eyes and saw those standing round,\nand said, \"Why have ye waked me? for I have seen marvels that no tongue\ncan tell, and more than any heart can think.\"\nThen he asked where he was, and they told him, \"In the Castle of\nCarbonek.\"\n\"Tell your lord, King Pelles,\" said he, \"that I am Sir Lancelot.\"\nAt that they marveled greatly, and told their lord it was Sir Lancelot\nwho had lain there so long.\nThen was King Pelles wondrous glad and went to see him, and prayed him\nto abide there for a season. But Sir Lancelot said, \"I know well that I\nhave now seen as much as mine eyes may behold of the Sangreal; wherefore\nI will return to my own country.\" So he took leave of King Pelles, and\ndeparted towards Logris.\nNow after Sir Galahad had parted from Sir Lancelot, he rode many days,\ntill he came to the monastery where the blind King Evelake lay, whom Sir\nPercival had seen. And on the morrow, when he had heard mass, Sir\nGalahad desired to see the king, who cried out, \"Welcome, Sir Galahad,\nservant of the Lord! long have I abided thy coming. Take me now in thine\narms, that I may die in peace.\"\nAt that Sir Galahad embraced him; and when he had so done the king's\neyes were opened, and he said, \"Fair Lord Jesus, suffer me now to come\nto Thee\"; and anon his soul departed.\nThen they buried him royally, as a king should be; and Sir Galahad went\non his way.\nWithin a while he came to a chapel in a forest, in the crypt whereof he\nsaw a tomb which always blazed and burnt. And asking the brethren what\nthat might mean, they told him, \"Joseph of Arimathea's son did found\nthis monastery, and one who wronged him hath lain here these three\nhundred and fifty years and burneth evermore, until that perfect knight\nwho shall achieve the Sangreal doth quench the fire.\"\nThen said he, \"I pray ye bring me to the tomb.\"\nAnd when he touched the place immediately the fire was quenched, and a\nvoice came from the grave and cried, \"Thanks be to God, who now hath\npurged me of my sin, and draweth me from earthly pains into the joys of\nparadise.\"\nThen Sir Galahad took the body in his arms and bore it to the abbey, and\non the morrow put it in the earth before the high altar.\nAnon he departed from thence and rode five days in a great forest; and\nafter that he met Sir Percival, and a little further on Sir Bors. When\nthey had told each other their adventures, they rode together to the\nCastle of Carbonek: and there King Pelles gave them hearty welcome, for\nhe knew they should achieve the Holy Quest.\nAs soon as they were come into the castle, a voice cried in the midst of\nthe chamber, \"Let them who ought not now to sit at the table of the Lord\nrise and depart hence!\" Then all, save those three knights, departed.\nAnon they saw other knights come in with haste at the hall doors and\ntake their harness off, who said to Sir Galahad, \"Sir, we have tried\nsore to be with you at this table.\"\n\"Ye be welcome,\" said he, \"but whence are ye?\"\nSo three of them said they were from Gaul; and three from Ireland; and\nthree from Denmark.\nThen came forth the likeness of a bishop, with a cross in his hand, and\nfour angels stood by him, and a table of silver was before them, whereon\nwas set the vessel of the Sangreal. Then came forth other angels\nalso--two bearing burning candles, and the third a towel, and the\nfourth a spear which bled marvelously, the drops wherefrom fell into a\nbox he held in his left hand. Anon the bishop took the wafer up to\nconsecrate it, and at the lifting up, they saw the figure of a Child,\nwhose visage was as bright as any fire, which smote itself into the\nmidst of the wafer and vanished, so that all saw the flesh made bread.\nThereat the bishop went to Galahad and kissed him, and bade him go and\nkiss his fellows; and said, \"Now, servants of the Lord, prepare for food\nsuch as none ever yet were fed with since the world began.\"\nWith that he vanished, and the knights were filled with a great dread\nand prayed devoutly.\nThen saw they come forth from the holy vessel the vision of a man\nbleeding all openly, whom they knew well by the tokens of His passion\nfor the Lord Himself. At that they fell upon their faces and were dumb.\nAnon he brought the Holy Grail to them and spake high words of comfort,\nand, when they drank therefrom, the taste thereof was sweeter than any\ntongue could tell or heart desire. Then a voice said to Galahad, \"Son,\nwith this blood which drippeth from the spear anoint thou the maimed\nking and heal him. And when thou hast this done, depart hence with thy\nbrethren in a ship that ye shall find, and go to the city of Sarras. And\nbear with thee the holy vessel, for it shall no more be seen in the\nrealm of Logris.\"\nAt that Sir Galahad walked to the bleeding spear, and therefrom\nanointing his fingers went out straightway to the maimed King Pelles,\nand touched his wound. Then suddenly he uprose from his bed as whole a\nman as ever he was, and praised God passing thankfully with all his\nheart.\nThen Sir Galahad, Sir Bors, and Sir Percival departed as they had been\ntold; and when they had ridden three days they came to the sea-shore,\nand found the ship awaiting them. Therein they entered, and saw in the\nmidst the silver table and the vessel of the Sangreal, covered with red\nsamite. Then were they passing glad, and made great reverence thereto.\nAnd Sir Galahad prayed that now he might leave the world and pass to\nGod. And presently, the while he prayed, a voice said to him, \"Galahad,\nthy prayer is heard, and when thou asketh the death of the body thou\nshalt have it, and find the life of thy soul.\"\nBut while they prayed and slept the ship sailed on, and when they woke\nthey saw the city of Sarras before them, and the other ship wherein was\nSir Percival's sister. Then the three knights took up the holy table and\nthe Sangreal and went into the city; and there, in a chapel, they buried\nSir Percival's sister right solemnly.\nNow at the gate of the town they saw an old cripple sitting, whom Sir\nGalahad called to help them bear their weight.\n\"Truly,\" said the old man, \"it is ten years since I have gone a step\nwithout these crutches.\"\n\"Care ye not,\" said Sir Galahad, \"rise now and show goodwill.\"\nSo he assayed to move, and found his limbs as strong as any man's might\nbe, and running to the table helped to carry it.\nAnon there rose a rumor in the city that a cripple had been healed by\ncertain marvelous strange knights.\nBut the king, named Estouranse, who was a heathen tyrant, when he heard\nthereof took Sir Galahad and his fellows, and put them in prison in a\ndeep hole. Therein they abode a great while, but ever the Sangreal was\nwith them and fed them with marvelous sweet food, so that they fainted\nnot, but had all joy and comfort they could wish.\nAt the year's end the king fell sick and felt that he should die. Then\nsent he for the three knights, and when they came before him prayed\ntheir mercy for his trespasses against them. So they forgave him gladly,\nand anon he died.\nThen the chief men of the city took counsel together who should be king\nin his stead, and as they talked, a voice cried in their midst, \"Choose\nye the youngest of the three knights King Estouranse cast into prison\nfor your king.\" At that they sought Sir Galahad and made him king with\nthe assent of all the city, and else they would have slain him.\nBut within a twelve-month came to him, upon a certain day, as he prayed\nbefore the Sangreal, a man in likeness of a bishop, with a great company\nof angels round about him, who offered mass, and afterwards called to\nSir Galahad, \"Come forth, thou servant of the Lord, for the time hath\ncome thou hast desired so long.\"\nThen Sir Galahad lifted up his hands and prayed, \"Now, blessed Lord!\nwould I no longer live if it might please Thee.\"\nAnon the bishop gave him the sacrament, and when he had received it with\nunspeakable gladness, he said, \"Who art thou, father?\"\n\"I am Joseph of Arimathea,\" answered he, \"whom our Lord hath sent to\nbear thee fellowship.\"\nWhen he heard that, Sir Galahad went to Sir Percival and Sir Bors and\nkissed them and commended them to God, saying, \"Salute for me Sir\nLancelot, my father, and bid them remember this unstable world.\"\nTherewith he kneeled down and prayed, and suddenly his soul departed,\nand a multitude of angels bare it up to heaven. Then came a hand from\nheaven and took the vessel and the spear and bare them out of sight.\nSince then was never man so hardy as to say that he had seen the\nSangreal.\nAnd after all these things, Sir Percival put off his armor and betook\nhim to an hermitage, and within a little while passed out of this world.\nAnd Sir Bors, when he had buried him beside his sister, returned,\nweeping sore for the loss of his two brethren, to King Arthur, at\nCamelot.\nTHE PASSING OF ARTHUR\nXIV\nSIR LANCELOT AND THE FAIR ELAINE\nNow after the quest of the Sangreal was fulfilled and all the knights\nwho were left alive were come again to the Round Table, there was great\njoy in the court. And passing glad were King Arthur and Queen Guinevere\nto see Sir Lancelot and Sir Bors, for they had been long absent in that\nquest.\nAnd so greatly was Sir Lancelot's fame now spread abroad that many\nladies and damsels daily resorted to him and besought him for their\nchampion; and all right quarrels did he gladly undertake for the\npleasure of our Lord Christ. And always as much as he might he withdrew\nhim from the queen.\nWherefore Queen Guinevere, who counted him for her own knight, grew\nwroth with him, and on a certain day she called him to her chamber, and\nsaid thus: \"Sir Lancelot, I daily see thy loyalty to me doth slack, for\never thou art absent from this court, and takest other ladies' quarrels\non thee more than ever thou wert wont. Now do I understand thee, false\nknight, and therefore shall I never trust thee more. Depart now from my\nsight, and come no more within this court upon pain of thy head.\" With\nthat she turned from him and would hear no excuses.\nSo Sir Lancelot departed in heaviness of heart, and calling Sir Bors,\nSir Ector, and Sir Lionel, he told them how the queen had dealt with\nhim.\n\"Fair sir,\" replied Sir Bors, \"remember what honor ye have in this\ncountry, and how ye are called the noblest knight in the world;\nwherefore go not, for women are hasty, and do often what they sore\nrepent of afterwards. Be ruled by my advice. Take horse and ride to the\nhermitage beside Windsor, and there abide till I send ye better\ntidings.\"\nTo that Sir Lancelot consented, and departed with a sorrowful\ncountenance.\nNow when the queen heard of his leaving she was inwardly sorry, but made\nno show of grief, bearing a proud visage outwardly. And on a certain day\nshe made a costly banquet to all the knights of the Round Table, to show\nshe had as great joy in all others as in Sir Lancelot. And at the\nbanquet were Sir Gawain, and his brothers Sir Agravaine, Sir Gaheris,\nand Sir Gareth; also Sir Modred, Sir Bors, Sir Blamor, Sir Bleoberis,\nSir Ector, Sir Lionel, Sir Palomedes, Sir Mador de la Port, and his\ncousin Sir Patrice--a knight of Ireland, Sir Pinell le Savage, and many\nmore.\nNow Sir Pinell hated Sir Gawain because he had slain one of his kinsmen\nby treason; and Sir Gawain had a great love for all kinds of fruit,\nwhich, when Sir Pinell knew, he poisoned certain apples that were set\nupon the table, with intent to slay him. And so it chanced as they ate\nand made merry, Sir Patrice, who sat next to Sir Gawain, took one of the\npoisoned apples and eat it, and when he had eaten he suddenly swelled up\nand fell down dead.\nAt that every knight leapt from the board ashamed and enraged nigh out\nof their wits, for they knew not what to say, yet seeing that the queen\nhad made the banquet they all had suspicion of her.\n\"My lady the queen,\" said Sir Gawain, \"I wit well this fruit was meant\nfor me, for all men know my love for it, and now had I been nearly\nslain; wherefore, I fear me, ye will be ashamed.\"\n\"This shall not end so,\" cried Sir Mador de la Port; \"now have I lost a\nnoble knight of my own blood, and for this despite and shame I will be\nrevenged to the uttermost.\"\nThen he challenged Queen Guinevere concerning the death of his cousin,\nbut she stood still, sore abashed, and anon with her sorrow and dread,\nshe swooned.\nAt the noise and sudden cry came in King Arthur, and to him appealed Sir\nMador, and impeached the queen.\n\"Fair lords,\" said he, \"full sorely am I troubled at this matter, for I\nmust be rightful judge, and therein it repenteth me I may not do battle\nfor my wife, for, as I deem, this deed was none of hers. But I suppose\nshe will not lack a champion, and some good knight surely will put his\nbody in jeopardy to save her.\"\nBut all who had been bidden to the banquet said they could not hold the\nqueen excused, or be her champions, for she had made the feast, and\neither by herself or servants must it have come.\n\"Alas!\" said the queen, \"I made this dinner for a good intent, and no\nevil, so God help me in my need.\"\n\"My lord the king,\" said Sir Mador, \"I require you heartily as you be a\nrighteous king give me a day when I may have justice.\"\n\"Well,\" said the king, \"I give ye this day fifteen days, when ye shall\nbe ready and armed in the meadow beside Westminster, and if there be a\nknight to fight with you, God speed the right, and if not, then must my\nqueen be burnt.\"\nWhen the king and queen were alone together he asked her how this case\nbefell.\n\"I wot not how or in what manner,\" answered she.\n\"Where is Sir Lancelot?\" said King Arthur, \"for he would not grudge to\ndo battle for thee.\"\n\"Sir,\" said she, \"I cannot tell you, but all his kinsmen deem he is not\nin this realm.\"\n\"These be sad tidings,\" said the king; \"I counsel ye to find Sir Bors,\nand pray him for Sir Lancelot's sake to do this battle for you.\"\nSo the queen departed and sent for Sir Bors to her chamber, and besought\nhis succor.\n\"Madam,\" said he, \"what would you have me do? for I may not with my\nhonor take this matter on me, for I was at that same dinner, and all the\nother knights would have me ever in suspicion. Now do ye miss Sir\nLancelot, for he would not have failed you in right nor yet in wrong,\nas ye have often proved, but now ye have driven him from the country.\"\n\"Alas! fair knight,\" said the queen, \"I put me wholly at your mercy, and\nall that is done amiss I will amend as ye will counsel me.\"\nAnd therewith she kneeled down upon both her knees before Sir Bors, and\nbesought him to have mercy on her.\nAnon came in King Arthur also, and prayed him of his courtesy to help\nher, saying, \"I require you for the love of Lancelot.\"\n\"My lord,\" said he, \"ye require the greatest thing of me that any man\ncan ask, for if I do this battle for the queen I shall anger all my\nfellows of the Table Round; nevertheless, for my lord Sir Lancelot's\nsake, and for yours, I will that day be the queen's champion, unless\nthere chance to come a better knight than I am to do battle for her.\"\nAnd this he promised on his faith.\nThen were the king and queen passing glad, and thanked him heartily, and\nso departed.\nBut Sir Bors rode in secret to the hermitage where Sir Lancelot was, and\ntold him all these tidings.\n\"It has chanced as I would have it,\" said Sir Lancelot; \"yet make ye\nready for the battle, but tarry till ye see me come.\"\n\"Sir,\" said Sir Bors, \"doubt not but ye shall have your will.\"\nBut many of the knights were greatly wroth with him when they heard he\nwas to be the queen's champion, for there were few in the court but\ndeemed her guilty.\nThen said Sir Bors, \"Wit ye will, fair lords, it were a shame to us all\nto suffer so fair and noble a lady to be burnt for lack of a champion,\nfor ever hath she proved herself a lover of good knights; wherefore I\ndoubt not she is guiltless of this treason.\"\nAt that were some well pleased, but others rested passing wroth.\nAnd when the day was come, the king and queen and all the knights went\nto the meadow beside Westminster, where the battle should be fought.\nThen the queen was put in ward, and a great fire was made round the iron\nstake, where she must be burnt if Sir Mador won the day.\nSo when the heralds blew, Sir Mador rode forth, and took oath that Queen\nGuinevere was guilty of Sir Patrice's death, and his oath he would prove\nwith his body against any who would say the contrary. Then came forth\nSir Bors, and said, \"Queen Guinevere is in the right, and that will I\nprove with my hands.\"\nWith that they both departed to their tents to make ready for the\nbattle. But Sir Bors tarried long, hoping Sir Lancelot would come, till\nSir Mador cried out to King Arthur, \"Bid thy champion come forth, unless\nhe dare not.\" Then was Sir Bors ashamed, and took his horse and rode to\nthe end of the lists.\nBut ere he could meet Sir Mador he was aware of a knight upon a white\nhorse, armed at all points, and with a strange shield, who rode to him\nand said, \"I pray you withdraw from this quarrel, for it is mine, and I\nhave ridden far to fight in it.\"\nThereat Sir Bors rode to King Arthur, and told him that another knight\nwas come who would do battle for the queen.\n\"Who is he?\" said King Arthur.\n\"I may not tell you,\" said Sir Bors; \"but he made a covenant with me to\nbe here to-day, wherefore I am discharged.\"\nThen the king called that knight, and asked him if he would fight for\nthe queen.\n\"Therefore came I hither, Sir king,\" answered he; \"but let us tarry no\nlonger, for anon I have other matters to do. But wit ye well,\" said he\nto the Knights of the Round Table, \"it is shame to ye for such a\ncourteous queen to suffer this dishonor.\"\nAnd all men marveled who this knight might be, for none knew him save\nSir Bors.\nThen Sir Mador and the knight rode to either end of the lists, and\ncouching their spears, ran one against the other with all their might;\nand Sir Mador's spear broke short, but the strange knight bore both him\nand his horse down to the ground. Then lightly they leaped from their\nsaddles and drew their swords, and so came eagerly to the battle, and\neither gave the other many sad strokes and sore and deep wounds.\nThus they fought nigh an hour, for Sir Mador was a full strong and\nvaliant knight. But at last the strange knight smote him to the earth,\nand gave him such a buffet on the helm as wellnigh killed him. Then did\nSir Mador yield, and prayed his life.\n\"I will but grant it thee,\" said the strange knight, \"if thou wilt\nrelease the queen from this quarrel forever, and promise that no mention\nshall be made upon Sir Patrice's tomb that ever she consented to that\ntreason.\"\n\"All this shall be done,\" said Sir Mador.\nThen the knights parters took up Sir Mador and led him to his tent, and\nthe other knight went straight to the stair foot of King Arthur's\nthrone; and by that time was the queen come to the king again, and\nkissed him lovingly.\nThen both the king and she stooped down, and thanked the knight, and\nprayed him to put off his helm and rest him, and to take a cup of wine.\nAnd when he put his helmet off to drink, all people saw it was Sir\nLancelot. But when the queen beheld him she sank almost to the ground\nweeping for sorrow and for joy, that he had done her such great goodness\nwhen she had showed him such unkindness.\nThen the knights of his blood gathered round him, and there was great\njoy and mirth in the court. And Sir Mador and Sir Lancelot were soon\nhealed of their wounds; and not long after came the Lady of the Lake to\nthe court, and told all there by her enchantments how Sir Pinell, and\nnot the queen, was guilty of Sir Patrice's death. Whereat the queen was\nheld excused of all men, and Sir Pinell fled the country.\nSo Sir Patrice was buried in the church of Winchester, and it was\nwritten on his tomb that Sir Pinell slew him with a poisoned apple, in\nerror for Sir Gawain. Then, through Sir Lancelot's favor, the queen was\nreconciled to Sir Mador, and all was forgiven.\nNow fifteen days before the Feast of the Assumption of our Lady, the\nking proclaimed a tourney to be held that feast-day at Camelot, whereat\nhimself and the King of Scotland would joust with all who should come\nagainst them. So thither went the King of North Wales, and King Anguish\nof Ireland, and Sir Galahaut the noble prince, and many other nobles of\ndivers countries.\nAnd King Arthur made ready to go, and would have had the queen go with\nhim, but she said that she was sick. Sir Lancelot, also, made excuses,\nsaying he was not yet whole of his wounds.\nAt that the king was passing heavy and grieved, and so departed alone\ntowards Camelot. And by the way he lodged in a town called Astolat, and\nlay that night in the castle.\nAs soon as he had gone, Sir Lancelot said to the queen, \"This night I\nwill rest, and to-morrow betimes will I take my way to Camelot; for at\nthese jousts I will be against the king and his fellowship.\"\n\"Ye may do as ye list,\" said Queen Guinevere; \"but by my counsel ye will\nnot be against the king, for in his company are many hardy knights, as\nye well know.\"\n\"Madam,\" said Sir Lancelot, \"I pray ye be not displeased with me, for I\nwill take the adventure that God may send me.\"\nAnd on the morrow he went to the church and heard mass, and took his\nleave of the queen, and so departed.\nThen he rode long till he came to Astolat, and there lodged at the\ncastle of an old baron called Sir Bernard of Astolat, which was near the\ncastle where King Arthur lodged. And as Sir Lancelot entered the king\nespied him, and knew him. Then said he to the knights, \"I have just seen\na knight who will fight full well at the joust toward which we go.\"\n\"Who is it?\" asked they.\n\"As yet ye shall not know,\" he answered smiling.\nWhen Sir Lancelot was in his chamber unarming the old baron came to him,\nsaluting him, though as yet he knew not who he was.\nNow Sir Bernard had a daughter passing beautiful, called the Fair Maid\nof Astolat, and when she saw Sir Lancelot she loved him from that\ninstant with her whole heart, and could not stay from gazing on him.\nOn the morrow, Sir Lancelot asked the old baron to lend him a strange\nshield. \"For,\" said he, \"I would be unknown.\"\n\"Sir,\" said his host, \"ye shall have your desire, for here is the shield\nof my eldest son, Sir Torre, who was hurt the day he was made knight, so\nthat he cannot ride; and his shield, therefore, is not known. And, if it\nplease you, my youngest son, Sir Lavaine, shall ride with you to the\njousts, for he is of his age full strong and mighty; and I deem ye be a\nnoble knight, wherefore I pray ye tell me your name.\"\n\"As to that,\" said Sir Lancelot, \"ye must hold me excused at this time,\nbut if I speed well at the jousts, I will come again and tell you; but\nin anywise let me have your son, Sir Lavaine, with me, and lend me his\nbrother's shield.\"\nThen, ere they departed, came Elaine, the baron's daughter, and said to\nSir Lancelot, \"I pray thee, gentle knight, to wear my token at\nto-morrow's tourney.\"\n\"If I should grant you that, fair damsel,\" said he, \"ye might say that I\ndid more for you than ever I have done for lady or damsel.\"\nThen he bethought him that if he granted her request he would be the\nmore disguised, for never before had he worn any lady's token. So anon\nhe said, \"Fair damsel, I will wear thy token on my helmet if thou wilt\nshow it me.\"\nThereat was she passing glad, and brought him a scarlet sleeve broidered\nwith pearls, which Sir Lancelot took, and put upon his helm. Then he\nprayed her to keep his shield for him until he came again, and taking\nSir Torre's shield instead, rode forth with Sir Lavaine towards Camelot.\nOn the morrow the trumpets blew for the tourney, and there was a great\npress of dukes and earls and barons and many noble knights; and King\nArthur sat in a gallery to behold who did the best. So the King of\nScotland and his knights, and King Anguish of Ireland rode forth on King\nArthur's side; and against them came the King of North Wales, the King\nof a Hundred Knights, the King of Northumberland, and the noble prince\nSir Galahaut.\nBut Sir Lancelot and Sir Lavaine rode into a little wood behind the\nparty which was against King Arthur, to watch which side should prove\nthe weakest.\nThen was there a strong fight between the two parties, for the King of a\nHundred Knights smote down the King of Scotland; and Sir Palomedes, who\nwas on King Arthur's side, overthrew Sir Galahaut. Then came fifteen\nKnights of the Round Table and beat back the Kings of Northumberland and\nNorth Wales with their knights.\n\"Now,\" said Sir Lancelot to Sir Lavaine, \"if ye will help me, ye shall\nsee yonder fellowship go back as fast as they came.\"\n\"Sir,\" said Sir Lavaine, \"I will do what I can.\"\nThen they rode together into the thickest of the press, and there, with\none spear, Sir Lancelot smote down five Knights of the Round Table, one\nafter other, and Sir Lavaine overthrew two. And taking another spear,\nfor his own was broken, Sir Lancelot smote down four more knights, and\nSir Lavaine a fifth. Then, drawing his sword, Sir Lancelot fought\nfiercely on the right hand and the left, and unhorsed Sir Safire, Sir\nEpinogris, and Sir Galleron. At that the Knights of the Round Table\nwithdrew themselves as well as they were able.\n\"Now, mercy,\" said Sir Gawain, who sat by King Arthur; \"what knight is\nthat who doth such marvelous deeds of arms? I should deem him by his\nforce to be Sir Lancelot, but that he wears a lady's token on his helm\nas never Lancelot doth.\"\n\"Let him be,\" said King Arthur; \"he will be better known, and do more\nere he depart.\"\nThus the party against King Arthur prospered at this time, and his\nknights were sore ashamed. Then Sir Bors, Sir Ector, and Sir Lionel\ncalled together the knights of their blood, nine in number, and agreed\nto join together in one band against the two strange knights. So they\nencountered Sir Lancelot all at once, and by main force smote his horse\nto the ground; and by misfortune Sir Bors struck Sir Lancelot through\nthe shield into the side, and the spear broke off and left the head in\nthe wound.\nWhen Sir Lavaine saw that, he ran to the King of Scotland and struck\nhim off his horse, and brought it to Sir Lancelot, and helped him to\nmount. Then Sir Lancelot bore Sir Bors and his horse to the ground, and\nin like manner served Sir Ector and Sir Lionel; and turning upon three\nother knights he smote them down also; while Sir Lavaine did many\ngallant deeds.\nBut feeling himself now sorely wounded Sir Lancelot drew his sword, and\nproffered to fight with Sir Bors, who, by this time, was mounted anew.\nAnd as they met, Sir Ector and Sir Lionel came also, and the swords of\nall three drave fiercely against him. When he felt their buffets, and\nhis wound that was so grievous, he determined to do all his best while\nhe could yet endure, and smote Sir Bors a blow that bent his head down\nnearly to the ground and razed his helmet off and pulled him from his\nhorse.\nThen rushing at Sir Ector and Sir Lionel, he smote them down, and might\nhave slain all three, but when he saw their faces his heart forbade him.\nLeaving them, therefore, on the field, he hurled into the thickest of\nthe press, and did such feats of arms as never were beheld before.\nAnd Sir Lavaine was with him through it all, and overthrew ten knights;\nbut Sir Lancelot smote down more than thirty, and most of them Knights\nof the Round Table.\nThen the king ordered the trumpets to blow for the end of the tourney,\nand the prize to be given by the heralds to the knight with the white\nshield who bore the red sleeve.\nBut ere Sir Lancelot was found by the heralds, came the King of the\nHundred Knights, the King of North Wales, the King of Northumberland,\nand Sir Galahaut, and said to him, \"Fair knight, God bless thee, for\nmuch have ye done this day for us; wherefore we pray ye come with us and\nreceive the honor and the prize as ye have worshipfully deserved it.\"\n\"My fair lords,\" said Sir Lancelot, \"wit ye well if I have deserved\nthanks, I have sore bought them, for I am like never to escape with my\nlife; therefore pray ye let me depart, for I am sore hurt. I take no\nthought of honor, for I had rather rest me than be lord of all the\nworld.\" And therewith he groaned piteously, and rode a great gallop away\nfrom them.\nAnd Sir Lavaine rode after him, sad at heart, for the broken spear still\nstuck fast in Sir Lancelot's side, and the blood streamed sorely from\nthe wound. Anon they came near a wood more than a mile from the lists,\nwhere he knew he could be hidden.\nThen said he to Sir Lavaine, \"O gentle knight, help me to pull out this\nspear-head from my side, for the pain thereof nigh killeth me.\"\n\"Dear lord,\" said he, \"I fain would help ye; but I dread to draw it\nforth, lest ye should die for loss of blood.\"\n\"I charge you as you love me,\" said Sir Lancelot, \"draw it out.\"\nSo they dismounted, and with a mighty wrench Sir Lavaine drew the spear\nforth from Sir Lancelot's side; whereat he gave a marvelous great shriek\nand ghastly groan, and all his blood leaped forth in a full stream. Then\nhe sank swooning to the earth, with a visage pale as death.\n\"Alas!\" cried Sir Lavaine, \"what shall I do now?\"\nAnd then he turned his master's face towards the wind, and sat by him\nnigh half an hour while he lay quiet as one dead. But at the last he\nlifted up his eyes, and said, \"I pray ye bear me on my horse again, and\nlead me to a hermit who dwelleth within two miles hence, for he was\nformerly a knight of Arthur's court, and now hath mighty skill in\nmedicine and herbs.\"\nSo with great pain Sir Lavaine got him to his horse, and led him to the\nhermitage within the wood, beside a stream. Then knocked he with his\nspear upon the door, and prayed to enter. At that a child came out, to\nwhom he said, \"Fair child, pray the good man thy master to come hither\nand let in a knight who is sore wounded.\"\nAnon came out the knight-hermit, whose name was Sir Baldwin, and asked,\n\"Who is this wounded knight?\"\n\"I know not,\" said Sir Lavaine, \"save that he is the noblest knight I\never met with, and hath done this day such marvelous deeds of arms\nagainst King Arthur that he hath won the prize of the tourney.\"\nThen the hermit gazed long on Sir Lancelot, and hardly knew him, so pale\nhe was with bleeding, yet said he at the last, \"Who art thou, lord?\"\nSir Lancelot answered feebly, \"I am a stranger knight adventurous, who\nlaboreth through many realms to win worship.\"\n\"Why hidest thou thy name, dear lord, from me?\" cried Sir Baldwin; \"for\nin sooth I know thee now to be the noblest knight in all the world--my\nlord Sir Lancelot du Lake, with whom I long had fellowship at the Round\nTable.\"\n\"Since ye know me, fair sir,\" said he, \"I pray ye, for Christ's sake, to\nhelp me if ye may.\"\n\"Doubt not,\" replied he, \"that ye shall live and fare right well.\"\nThen he staunched his wound, and gave him strong medicines and cordials\ntill he was refreshed from his faintness and came to himself again.\nNow after the jousting was done King Arthur held a feast, and asked to\nsee the knight with the red sleeve that he might take the prize. So they\ntold him how that knight had ridden from the field wounded nigh to\ndeath. \"These be the worst tidings I have heard for many years,\" cried\nout the king; \"I would not for my kingdom he were slain.\"\nThen all men asked, \"Know ye him, lord?\"\n\"I may not tell ye at this time,\" said he; \"but would to God we had good\ntidings of him.\"\nThen Sir Gawain prayed leave to go and seek that knight, which the king\ngladly gave him. So forthwith he mounted and rode many leagues round\nCamelot, but could hear no tidings.\nWithin two days thereafter King Arthur and his knights returned from\nCamelot, and Sir Gawain chanced to lodge at Astolat, in the house of Sir\nBernard. And there came in the fair Elaine to him, and prayed him news\nof the tournament, and who won the prize. \"A knight with a white\nshield,\" said he, \"who bare a red sleeve in his helm, smote down all\ncomers and won the day.\"\nAt that the visage of Elaine changed suddenly from white to red, and\nheartily she thanked our Lady.\nThen said Sir Gawain, \"Know ye that knight?\" and urged her till she told\nhim that it was her sleeve he wore. So Sir Gawain knew it was for love\nthat she had given it; and when he heard she kept his proper shield he\nprayed to see it.\nAs soon as it was brought he saw Sir Lancelot's arms thereon, and cried,\n\"Alas! now am I heavier of heart than ever yet.\"\n\"Wherefore?\" said fair Elaine.\n\"Fair damsel,\" answered he, \"know ye not that the knight ye love is of\nall knights the noblest in the world, Sir Lancelot du Lake? With all my\nheart I pray ye may have joy of each other, but hardly dare I think that\nye shall see him in this world again, for he is so sore wounded he may\nscarcely live, and is gone out of sight where none can find him.\"\nThen was Elaine nigh mad with grief and sorrow, and with piteous words\nshe prayed her father that she might go seek Sir Lancelot and her\nbrother. So in the end her father gave her leave, and she departed.\nAnd on the morrow came Sir Gawain to the court, and told how he had\nfound Sir Lancelot's shield in Elaine's keeping, and how it was her\nsleeve which he had worn; whereat all marveled, for Sir Lancelot had\ndone for her more than he had ever done for any woman.\nBut when Queen Guinevere heard it she was beside herself with wrath, and\nsending privily for Sir Bors, who sorrowed sorely that through him Sir\nLancelot had been hurt--\"Have ye now heard,\" said she, \"how falsely Sir\nLancelot hath betrayed me?\"\n\"I beseech thee, madam,\" said he, \"speak not so, for else I may not hear\nthee.\"\n\"Shall I not call him traitor,\" cried she, \"who hath worn another lady's\ntoken at the jousting?\"\n\"Be sure he did it, madam, for no ill intent,\" replied Sir Bors, \"but\nthat he might be better hidden, for never did he in that wise before.\"\n\"Now shame on him, and thee who wouldest help him,\" cried the queen.\n\"Madam, say what ye will,\" said he; \"but I must haste to seek him, and\nGod send me soon good tidings of him.\"\nSo with that he departed to find Sir Lancelot.\nNow Elaine had ridden with full haste from Astolat, and come to Camelot,\nand there she sought throughout the country for any news of Lancelot.\nAnd so it chanced that Sir Lavaine was riding near the hermitage to\nexercise his horse, and when she saw him she ran up and cried aloud,\n\"How doth my lord Sir Lancelot fare?\"\nThen said Sir Lavaine, marveling greatly, \"How know ye my lord's name,\nfair sister?\"\nSo she told him how Sir Gawain had lodged with Sir Bernard, and knew Sir\nLancelot's shield.\nThen prayed she to see his lord forthwith, and when she came to the\nhermitage and found him lying there sore sick and bleeding, she swooned\nfor sorrow. Anon, as she revived, Sir Lancelot kissed her, and said,\n\"Fair maid, I pray ye take comfort, for, by God's grace, I shall be\nshortly whole of this wound, and if ye be come to tend me, I am heartily\nbounden to your great kindness.\" Yet was he sore vexed to hear Sir\nGawain had discovered him, for he knew Queen Guinevere would be full\nwroth because of the red sleeve.\nSo Elaine rested in the hermitage, and ever night and day she watched\nand waited on Sir Lancelot, and would let none other tend him. And as\nshe saw him more, the more she set her love upon him, and could by no\nmeans withdraw it. Then said Sir Lancelot to Sir Lavaine, \"I pray thee\nset some to watch for the good knight Sir Bors, for as he hurt me, so\nwill he surely seek for me.\"\nNow Sir Bors by this time had come to Camelot, and was seeking for Sir\nLancelot everywhere, so Sir Lavaine soon found him, and brought him to\nthe hermitage.\nAnd when he saw Sir Lancelot pale and feeble, he wept for pity and\nsorrow that he had given him that grievous wound. \"God send thee a right\nspeedy cure, dear lord,\" said he; \"for I am of all men most unhappy to\nhave wounded thee, who art our leader, and the noblest knight in all the\nworld.\"\n\"Fair cousin,\" said Sir Lancelot, \"be comforted, for I have but gained\nwhat I sought, and it was through pride that I was hurt, for had I\nwarned ye of my coming it had not been; wherefore let us speak of other\nthings.\"\nSo they talked long together, and Sir Bors told him of the queen's\nanger. Then he asked Sir Lancelot, \"Was it from this maid who tendeth\nyou so lovingly ye had the token?\"\n\"Yea,\" said Sir Lancelot; \"and would I could persuade her to withdraw\nher love from me.\"\n\"Why should ye do so?\" said Sir Bors; \"for she is passing fair and\nloving. I would to heaven ye could love her.\"\n\"That may not be,\" replied he; \"but it repenteth me in sooth to grieve\nher.\"\nThen they talked of other matters, and of the great jousting at\nAllhallowtide next coming, between King Arthur and the King of North\nWales.\n\"Abide with me till then,\" said Sir Lancelot, \"for by that time I trust\nto be all whole again, and we will go together.\"\nSo Elaine daily and nightly tending him, within a month he felt so\nstrong he deemed himself full cured. Then on a day, when Sir Bors and\nSir Lavaine were from the hermitage, and the knight-hermit also was gone\nforth, Sir Lancelot prayed Elaine to bring him some herbs from the\nforest.\nWhen she was gone he rose and made haste to arm himself, and try if he\nwere whole enough to joust, and mounted on his horse, which was fresh\nwith lack of labor for so long a time. But when he set his spear in the\nrest and tried his armor, the horse bounded and leapt beneath him, so\nthat Sir Lancelot strained to keep him back. And therewith his wound,\nwhich was not wholly healed, burst forth again, and with a mighty groan\nhe sank down swooning on the ground.\nAt that came fair Elaine and wept and piteously moaned to see him lying\nso. And when Sir Bors and Sir Lavaine came back, she called them\ntraitors to let him rise, or to know any rumor of the tournament. Anon\nthe hermit returned and was wroth to see Sir Lancelot risen, but within\na while he recovered him from his swoon and staunched the wound. Then\nSir Lancelot told him how he had risen of his own will to assay his\nstrength for the tournament. But the hermit bade him rest and let Sir\nBors go alone, for else would he sorely peril his life. And Elaine,\nwith tears, prayed him in the same wise, so that Sir Lancelot in the end\nconsented.\nSo Sir Bors departed to the tournament, and there he did such feats of\narms that the prize was given between him and Sir Gawain, who did like\nvaliantly.\nAnd when all was over he came back and told Sir Lancelot, and found him\nso nigh well that he could rise and walk. And within a while thereafter\nhe departed from the hermitage and went with Sir Bors, Sir Lavaine, and\nfair Elaine to Astolat, where Sir Bernard joyfully received them.\nBut after they had lodged there a few days Sir Lancelot and Sir Bors\nmust needs depart and return to King Arthur's court.\nSo when Elaine knew Sir Lancelot must go, she came to him and said,\n\"Have mercy on me, fair knight, and let me not die for your love.\"\nThen said Sir Lancelot, very sad at heart, \"Fair maid, what would ye\nthat I should do for you?\"\n\"If I may not be your wife, dear lord,\" she answered, \"I must die.\"\n\"Alas!\" said he, \"I pray heaven that may not be; for in sooth I may not\nbe your husband. But fain would I show ye what thankfulness I can for\nall your love and kindness to me. And ever will I be your knight, fair\nmaiden; and if it chance that ye shall ever wed some noble knight, right\nheartily will I give ye such a dower as half my lands will bring.\"\n\"Alas! what shall that aid me?\" answered she; \"for I must die,\" and\ntherewith she fell to the earth in a deep swoon.\nThen was Sir Lancelot passing heavy of heart, and said to Sir Bernard\nand Sir Lavaine, \"What shall I do for her?\"\n\"Alas!\" said Sir Bernard, \"I know well that she will die for your sake.\"\nAnd Sir Lavaine said, \"I marvel not that she so sorely mourneth your\ndeparture, for truly I do as she doth, and since I once have seen you,\nlord, I cannot leave you.\"\nSo anon, with a full sorrowful heart, Sir Lancelot took his leave, and\nSir Lavaine rode with him to the court. And King Arthur and the Knights\nof the Round Table joyed greatly to see him whole of his wound, but\nQueen Guinevere was sorely wroth, and neither spake with him nor greeted\nhim.\nNow when Sir Lancelot had departed, the Maid of Astolat could neither\neat, nor drink, nor sleep for sorrow; and having thus endured ten days,\nshe felt within herself that she must die.\nThen sent she for a holy man, and was shriven and received the\nsacrament. But when he told her she must leave her earthly thoughts, she\nanswered, \"Am I not an earthly woman? What sin is it to love the noblest\nknight of all the world? And, by my truth, I am not able to withstand\nthe love whereof I die; wherefore, I pray the High Father of Heaven to\nhave mercy on my soul.\"\nThen she besought Sir Bernard to indite a letter as she should devise,\nand said, \"When I am dead put this within my hand, and dress me in my\nfairest clothes, and lay me in a barge all covered with black samite,\nand steer it down the river till it reach the court. Thus, father, I\nbeseech thee let it be.\"\nThen, full of grief, he promised her it should be so. And anon she died,\nand all the household made a bitter lamentation over her.\nThen did they as she had desired, and laid her body, richly dressed,\nupon a bed within the barge, and a trusty servant steered it down the\nriver towards the court.\nNow King Arthur and Queen Guinevere sat at a window of the palace, and\nsaw the barge come floating with the tide, and marveled what was laid\ntherein, and sent a messenger to see, who, soon returning, prayed them\nto come forth.\nWhen they came to the shore they marveled greatly, and the king asked of\nthe serving-man who steered the barge what this might mean. But he made\nsigns that he was dumb, and pointed to the letter in the damsel's hands.\nSo King Arthur took the letter from the hand of the corpse, and found\nthereon written, \"To the noble knight, Sir Lancelot du Lake.\"\nThen was Sir Lancelot sent for, and the letter read aloud by a clerk,\nand thus it was written:--\n\"Most noble knight, my lord Sir Lancelot, now hath death forever parted\nus. I, whom men call the Maid of Astolat, set my love upon you, and have\ndied for your sake. This is my last request, that ye pray for my soul\nand give me burial. Grant me this, Sir Lancelot, as thou art a peerless\nknight.\"\nAt these words the queen and all the knights wept sore for pity.\nThen said Sir Lancelot, \"My lord, I am right heavy for the death of this\nfair damsel; and God knoweth that right unwillingly I caused it, for she\nwas good as she was fair, and much was I beholden to her; but she loved\nme beyond measure, and asked me that I could not give her.\"\n\"Ye might have shown her gentleness enough to save her life,\" answered\nthe queen.\n\"Madam,\" said he, \"she would but be repaid by my taking her to wife, and\nthat I could not grant her, for love cometh of the heart and not by\nconstraint.\"\n\"That is true,\" said the king; \"for love is free.\"\n\"I pray you,\" said Sir Lancelot, \"let me now grant her last asking, to\nbe buried by me.\"\nSo on the morrow, he caused her body to be buried richly and solemnly,\nand ordained masses for her soul, and made great sorrow over her.\nThen the queen sent for Sir Lancelot, and prayed his pardon for her\nwrath against him without cause. \"This is not the first time it hath\nbeen so,\" answered he; \"yet must I ever bear with ye, and so do I now\nforgive you.\"\nSo Queen Guinevere and Sir Lancelot were made friends again; but anon\nsuch favor did she show him, as in the end brought many evils on them\nboth and all the realm.\nXV\nTHE WAR BETWEEN ARTHUR AND LANCELOT AND THE PASSING OF ARTHUR\nWithin a while thereafter was a jousting at the court, wherein Sir\nLancelot won the prize. And two of those he smote down were Sir\nAgravaine, the brother of Sir Gawain, and Sir Modred, his false\nbrother--King Arthur's son by Belisent. And because of his victory they\nhated Sir Lancelot, and sought how they might injure him.\nSo on a night, when King Arthur was hunting in the forest, and the queen\nsent for Sir Lancelot to her chamber, they two espied him; and thinking\nnow to make a scandal and a quarrel between Lancelot and the king, they\nfound twelve others, and said Sir Lancelot was ever now in the queen's\nchamber, and King Arthur was dishonored.\nThen, all armed, they came suddenly round the queen's door, and cried,\n\"Traitor! now art thou taken.\"\n\"Madam, we be betrayed,\" said Sir Lancelot; \"yet shall my life cost\nthese men dear.\"\nThen did the queen weep sore, and dismally she cried, \"Alas! there is\nno armor here whereby ye might withstand so many; wherefore ye will be\nslain, and I be burnt for the dread crime they will charge on me.\"\nBut while she spake the shouting of the knights was heard without,\n\"Traitor, come forth, for now thou art snared!\"\n\"Better were twenty deaths at once than this vile outcry,\" said Sir\nLancelot.\nThen he kissed her and said, \"Most noble lady, I beseech ye, as I have\never been your own true knight, take courage; pray for my soul if I be\nnow slain, and trust my faithful friends, Sir Bors and Sir Lavaine, to\nsave you from the fire.\"\nBut ever bitterly she wept and moaned, and cried, \"Would God that they\nwould take and slay me, and that thou couldest escape.\"\n\"That shall never be,\" said he. And wrapping his mantle round his arm he\nunbarred the door a little space, so that but one could enter.\nThen first rushed in Sir Chalaunce, a full strong knight, and lifted up\nhis sword to smite Sir Lancelot; but lightly he avoided him, and struck\nSir Chalaunce, with his hand, such a sore buffet on the head as felled\nhim dead upon the floor.\nThen Sir Lancelot pulled in his body and barred the door again, and\ndressed himself in his armor, and took his drawn sword in his hand.\nBut still the knights cried mightily without the door, \"Traitor, come\nforth!\"\n\"Be silent and depart,\" replied Sir Lancelot; \"for be ye sure ye will\nnot take me, and to-morrow will I meet ye face to face before the king.\"\n\"Ye shall have no such grace,\" they cried; \"but we will slay thee, or\ntake thee as we list.\"\n\"Then save yourselves who may,\" he thundered, and therewith suddenly\nunbarred the door and rushed forth at them. And at the first blow he\nslew Sir Agravaine, and after him twelve other knights, with twelve more\nmighty buffets. And none of all escaped him save Sir Modred, who, sorely\nwounded, flew away for life.\nThen returned he to the queen, and said, \"Now, madam, will I depart, and\nif ye be in any danger I pray ye come to me.\"\n\"Surely will I stay here, for I am queen,\" she answered; \"yet if\nto-morrow any harm come to me I trust to thee for rescue.\"\n\"Have ye no doubt of me,\" said he, \"for ever while I live am I your own\ntrue knight.\"\nTherewith he took his leave, and went and told Sir Bors and all his\nkindred of this adventure. \"We will be with thee in this quarrel,\" said\nthey all; \"and if the queen be sentenced to the fire, we certainly will\nsave her.\"\nMeanwhile Sir Modred, in great fear and pain, fled from the court, and\nrode until he found King Arthur, and told him all that had befallen. But\nthe king would scarce believe him till he came and saw the bodies of Sir\nAgravaine and all the other knights.\nThen felt he in himself that all was true, and with his passing grief\nhis heart nigh broke. \"Alas!\" cried he, \"now is the fellowship of the\nRound Table forever broken: yea, woe is me! I may not with my honor\nspare my queen.\"\nAnon it was ordained that Queen Guinevere should be burned to death,\nbecause she had dishonored King Arthur.\nBut when Sir Gawain heard thereof, he came before the king, and said,\n\"My lord, I counsel thee be not too hasty in this matter, but stay the\njudgment of the queen a season, for it may well be that Sir Lancelot was\nin her chamber for no evil, seeing she is greatly beholden to him for so\nmany deeds done for her sake, and peradventure she had sent to him to\nthank him, and did it secretly that she might avoid slander.\"\nBut King Arthur answered, full of grief, \"Alas! I may not help her; she\nis judged as any other woman.\"\nThen he required Sir Gawain and his brethren, Sir Gaheris and Sir\nGareth, to be ready to bear the queen to-morrow to the place of\nexecution.\n\"Nay, noble lord,\" replied Sir Gawain, \"that can I never do; for neither\nwill my heart suffer me to see the queen die, nor shall men ever say I\nwas of your counsel in this matter.\"\nThen said his brother, \"Ye may command us to be there, but since it is\nagainst our will, we will be without arms, that we may do no battle\nagainst her.\"\nSo on the morrow was Queen Guinevere led forth to die by fire, and a\nmighty crowd was there, of knights and nobles, armed and unarmed. And\nall the lords and ladies wept sore at that piteous sight. Then was she\nshriven by a priest, and the men came nigh to bind her to the stake and\nlight the fire.\nAt that Sir Lancelot's spies rode hastily and told him and his kindred,\nwho lay hidden in a wood hard by; and suddenly, with twenty knights, he\nrushed into the midst of all the throng to rescue her.\nBut certain of King Arthur's knights rose up and fought with them, and\nthere was a full great battle and confusion. And Sir Lancelot drave\nfiercely here and there among the press, and smote on every side, and at\nevery blow struck down a knight, so that many were slain by him and his\nfellows.\nThen was the queen set free, and caught up on Sir Lancelot's saddle and\nfled away with him and all his company to the Castle of La Joyous Garde.\nNow so it chanced that, in the turmoil of the fighting, Sir Lancelot had\nunawares struck down and slain the two good knights Sir Gareth and Sir\nGaheris, knowing it not, for he fought wildly, and saw not that they\nwere unarmed.\nWhen King Arthur heard thereof, and of all that battle, and the rescue\nof the queen, he sorrowed heavily for those good knights, and was\npassing wroth with Lancelot and the queen.\nBut when Sir Gawain heard of his brethren's death he swooned for sorrow\nand wrath, for he wist that Sir Lancelot had killed them in malice. And\nas soon as he recovered he ran in to the king, and said, \"Lord king and\nuncle, hear this oath which now I swear, that from this day I will not\nfail Sir Lancelot till one of us hath slain the other. And now, unless\nye haste to war with him, that we may be avenged, will I myself alone go\nafter him.\"\nThen the king, full of wrath and grief, agreed thereto, and sent letters\nthroughout the realm to summon all his knights, and went with a vast\narmy to besiege the Castle of La Joyous Garde. And Sir Lancelot, with\nhis knights, mightily defended it; but never would he suffer any to go\nforth and attack one of the king's army, for he was right loth to fight\nagainst him.\nSo when fifteen weeks were passed, and King Arthur's army wasted itself\nin vain against the castle, for it was passing strong, it chanced upon a\nday Sir Lancelot was looking from the walls and espied King Arthur and\nSir Gawain close beside.\n\"Come forth, Sir Lancelot,\" said King Arthur right fiercely, \"and let us\ntwo meet in the midst of the field.\"\n\"God forbid that I should encounter with thee, lord, for thou didst make\nme a knight,\" replied Sir Lancelot.\nThen cried Sir Gawain, \"Shame on thee, traitor and false knight, yet be\nye well assured we will regain the queen and slay thee and thy company;\nyea, double shame on ye to slay my brother Gaheris unarmed, Sir Gareth\nalso, who loved ye so well. For that treachery, be sure I am thine enemy\ntill death.\"\n\"Alas!\" cried Sir Lancelot, \"that I hear such tidings, for I knew not I\nhad slain those noble knights, and right sorely now do I repent it with\na heavy heart. Yet abate thy wrath, Sir Gawain, for ye know full well I\ndid it by mischance, for I loved them ever as my own brothers.\"\n\"Thou liest, false recreant,\" cried Sir Gawain, fiercely.\nAt that Sir Lancelot was wroth, and said, \"I well see thou art now mine\nenemy, and that there can be no more peace with thee, or with my lord\nthe king, else would I gladly give back the queen.\"\nThen the king would fain have listened to Sir Lancelot, for more than\nall his own wrong did he grieve at the sore waste and damage of the\nrealm, but Sir Gawain persuaded him against it, and ever cried out\nfoully on Sir Lancelot.\nWhen Sir Bors and the other knights of Lancelot's party heard the fierce\nwords of Sir Gawain, they were passing wroth, and prayed to ride forth\nand be avenged on him, for they were weary of so long waiting to no\ngood. And in the end Sir Lancelot, with a heavy heart, consented.\nSo on the morrow the hosts on either side met in the field, and there\nwas a great battle. And Sir Gawain prayed his knights chiefly to set\nupon Sir Lancelot; but Sir Lancelot commanded his company to forbear\nKing Arthur and Sir Gawain.\nSo the two armies jousted together right fiercely, and Sir Gawain\nproffered to encounter with Sir Lionel, and overthrew him. But Sir Bors\nand Sir Blamor, and Sir Palomedes, who were on Sir Lancelot's side, did\ngreat feats of arms, and overthrew many of King Arthur's knights.\nThen the king came forth against Sir Lancelot, but Sir Lancelot forbore\nhim and would not strike again.\nAt that Sir Bors rode up against the king and smote him down. But Sir\nLancelot cried, \"Touch him not on pain of thy head,\" and going to King\nArthur he alighted and gave him his own horse, saying, \"My lord, I pray\nthee forbear this strife, for it can bring to neither of us any honor.\"\nAnd when King Arthur looked on him the tears came to his eyes as he\nthought of his noble courtesy, and he said within himself, \"Alas! that\never this war began.\"\nBut on the morrow Sir Gawain led forth the army again, and Sir Bors\ncommanded on Sir Lancelot's side. And they two struck together so\nfiercely that both fell to the ground sorely wounded; and all the day\nthey fought till night fell, and many were slain on both sides, yet in\nthe end neither gained the victory.\nBut by now the fame of this fierce war spread through all Christendom,\nand when the Pope heard thereof he sent a Bull, and charged King Arthur\nto make peace with Lancelot, and receive back Queen Guinevere; and for\nthe offense imputed to her absolution should be given by the Pope.\nThereto would King Arthur straightway have obeyed, but Sir Gawain ever\nurged him to refuse.\nWhen Sir Lancelot heard thereof, he wrote thus to the king: \"It was\nnever in my thought, lord, to withhold thy queen from thee; but since\nshe was condemned for my sake to death, I deemed it but a just and\nknightly part to rescue her therefrom; wherefore I recommend me to your\ngrace, and within eight days will I come to thee and bring the queen in\nsafety.\"\nThen, within eight days, as he had said, Sir Lancelot rode from out the\ncastle with Queen Guinevere, and a hundred knights for company, each\ncarrying an olive branch, in sign of peace. And so they came to the\ncourt, and found King Arthur sitting on his throne, with Sir Gawain and\nmany other knights around him. And when Sir Lancelot entered with the\nqueen, they both kneeled down before the king.\nAnon Sir Lancelot rose and said, \"My lord, I have brought hither my lady\nthe queen again, as right requireth, and by commandment of the Pope and\nyou. I pray ye take her to your heart again and forget the past. For\nmyself I may ask nothing, and for my sin I shall have sorrow and sore\npunishment; yet I would to heaven I might have your grace.\"\nBut ere the king could answer, for he was moved with pity at his words,\nSir Gawain cried aloud, \"Let the king do as he will, but be sure, Sir\nLancelot, thou and I shall never be accorded while we live, for thou has\nslain my brethren traitorously and unarmed.\"\n\"As heaven is my help,\" replied Sir Lancelot, \"I did it ignorantly, for\nI loved them well, and while I live I shall bewail their death; but to\nmake war with me were no avail, for I must needs fight with thee if thou\nassailest, and peradventure I might kill thee also, which I were right\nloth to do.\"\n\"I will forgive thee never,\" cried Sir Gawain, \"and if the king\naccordeth with thee he shall lose my service.\"\nThen the knights who stood near tried to reconcile Sir Gawain to Sir\nLancelot, but he would not hear them. So, at the last, Sir Lancelot\nsaid, \"Since peace is vain, I will depart, lest I bring more evil on my\nfellowship.\"\nAnd as he turned to go, the tears fell from him, and he said, \"Alas,\nmost noble Christian realm, which I have loved above all others, now\nshall I see thee never more!\" Then said he to the queen, \"Madam, now\nmust I leave ye and this noble fellowship forever. And, I beseech ye,\npray for me, and if ye ever be defamed of any, let me hear thereof, and\nas I have been ever thy true knight in right and wrong, so will I be\nagain.\"\nWith that he kneeled and kissed King Arthur's hands, and departed on his\nway. And there was none in all that court, save Sir Gawain alone, but\nwept to see him go.\nSo he returned with all his knights to the Castle of La Joyous Garde,\nand, for his sorrow's sake, he named it Dolorous Garde thenceforth.\nAnon he left the realm, and went with many of his fellowship beyond the\nsea to France, and there divided all his lands among them equally, he\nsharing but as the rest.\nAnd from that time forward peace had been between him and King Arthur,\nbut for Sir Gawain, who left the king no rest, but constantly persuaded\nhim that Lancelot was raising mighty hosts against him.\nSo in the end his malice overcame the king, who left the government in\ncharge of Modred, and made him guardian of the queen, and went with a\ngreat army to invade Sir Lancelot's lands.\nYet Sir Lancelot would make no war upon the king, and sent a message to\ngain peace on any terms King Arthur chose. But Sir Gawain met the herald\nere he reached the king, and sent him back with taunting and bitter\nwords. Whereat Sir Lancelot sorrowfully called his knights together and\nfortified the Castle of Benwicke, and there was shortly besieged by the\narmy of King Arthur.\nAnd every day Sir Gawain rode up to the walls, and cried out foully on\nSir Lancelot, till, upon a time, Sir Lancelot answered him that he would\nmeet him in the field and put his boasting to the proof. So it was\nagreed on both sides that there should none come nigh them or separate\nthem till one had fallen or yielded; and they two rode forth.\nThen did they wheel their horses apart, and turning, came together as it\nhad been thunder, so that both horses fell, and both their lances broke.\nAt that they drew their swords and set upon each other fiercely, with\npassing grievous strokes.\nNow Sir Gawain had through magic a marvelous great gift. For every day,\nfrom morning till noon, his strength waxed to the might of seven men,\nbut after that waned to his natural force. Therefore till noon he gave\nSir Lancelot many mighty buffets, which scarcely he endured. Yet greatly\nhe forbore Sir Gawain, for he was aware of his enchantment, and smote\nhim slightly till his own knights marveled. But after noon Sir Gawain's\nstrength sank fast, and then, with one full blow, Sir Lancelot laid him\non the earth. Then Sir Gawain cried out, \"Turn not away, thou traitor\nknight, but slay me if thou wilt, or else I will arise and fight with\nthee again some other time.\"\n\"Sir knight,\" replied Sir Lancelot, \"I never yet smote a fallen man.\"\nAt that they bore Sir Gawain sorely wounded to his tent, and King Arthur\nwithdrew his men, for he was loth to shed the blood of so many knights\nof his own fellowship.\nBut now came tidings to King Arthur from across the sea, which caused\nhim to return in haste. For thus the news ran, that no sooner was Sir\nModred set up in his regency, than he had forged false tidings from\nabroad that the king had fallen in a battle with Sir Lancelot. Whereat\nhe had proclaimed himself the king, and had been crowned at Canterbury,\nwhere he had held a coronation feast for fifteen days. Then he had gone\nto Winchester, where Queen Guinevere abode, and had commanded her to be\nhis wife; whereto, for fear and sore perplexity, she had feigned\nconsent, but, under pretext of preparing for the marriage, had fled in\nhaste to London and taken shelter in the Tower, fortifying it and\nproviding it with all manner of victuals, and defending it against Sir\nModred, and answering to all his threats that she would rather slay\nherself than be his queen.\nThus was it written to King Arthur. Then, in passing great wrath and\nhaste, he came with all his army swiftly back from France and sailed to\nEngland. But when Sir Modred heard thereof, he left the Tower and\nmarched with all his host to meet the king at Dover.\nThen fled Queen Guinevere to Amesbury to a nunnery, and there she\nclothed herself in sackcloth, and spent her time in praying for the king\nand in good deeds and fasting. And in that nunnery evermore she lived,\nsorely repenting and mourning for her sin, and for the ruin she had\nbrought on all the realm. And there anon she died.\nAnd when Sir Lancelot heard thereof, he put his knightly armor off, and\nbade farewell to all his kin, and went a mighty pilgrimage for many\nyears, and after lived a hermit till his death.\nWhen Sir Modred came to Dover, he found King Arthur and his army but\njust landed; and there they fought a fierce and bloody battle, and many\ngreat and noble knights fell on both sides.\nBut the king's side had the victory, for he was beyond himself with\nmight and passion, and all his knights so fiercely followed him, that,\nin spite of all their multitude, they drove Sir Modred's army back with\nfearful wounds and slaughter, and slept that night upon the\nbattle-field.\nBut Sir Gawain was smitten by an arrow in the wound Sir Lancelot gave\nhim, and wounded to the death. Then was he borne to the king's tent,\nand King Arthur sorrowed over him as it had been his own son. \"Alas!\"\nsaid he; \"in Sir Lancelot and in you I had my greatest earthly joy, and\nnow is all gone from me.\"\nAnd Sir Gawain answered, with a feeble voice, \"My lord and king, I know\nwell my death is come, and through my own wilfulness, for I am smitten\nin the wound Sir Lancelot gave me. Alas! that I have been the cause of\nall this war, for but for me thou hadst been now at peace with Lancelot,\nand then had Modred never done this treason. I pray ye, therefore, my\ndear lord, be now agreed with Lancelot, and tell him, that although he\ngave me my death-wound, it was through my own seeking; wherefore I\nbeseech him to come back to England, and here to visit my tomb, and pray\nfor my soul.\"\nWhen he had thus spoken, Sir Gawain gave up his ghost, and the king\ngrievously mourned for him.\nThen they told him that the enemy had camped on Barham Downs, whereat,\nwith all his hosts, he straightway marched there, and fought again a\nbloody battle, and overthrew Sir Modred utterly. Howbeit, he raised yet\nanother army, and retreating ever from before the king, increased his\nnumbers as he went, till at the farthest west in Lyonesse, he once more\nmade a stand.\nNow, on the night of Trinity Sunday, being the eve of the battle, King\nArthur had a vision, and saw Sir Gawain in a dream, who warned him not\nto fight with Modred on the morrow, else he would be surely slain; and\nprayed him to delay till Lancelot and his knights should come to aid\nhim.\nSo when King Arthur woke he told his lords and knights that vision, and\nall agreed to wait the coming of Sir Lancelot. Then a herald was sent\nwith a message of truce to Sir Modred, and a treaty was made that\nneither army should assail the other.\nBut when the treaty was agreed upon, and the heralds returned, King\nArthur said to his knights, \"Beware, lest Sir Modred deceive us, for I\nin no wise trust him, and if swords be drawn be ready to encounter!\" And\nSir Modred likewise gave an order, that if any man of the king's army\ndrew his sword, they should begin to fight.\nAnd as it chanced, a knight of the king's side was bitten by an adder in\nthe foot, and hastily drew forth his sword to slay it. That saw Sir\nModred, and forthwith commanded all his army to assail the king's.\nSo both sides rushed to battle, and fought passing fiercely. And when\nthe king saw there was no hope to stay them, he did right mightily and\nnobly as a king should do, and ever, like a lion, raged in the thickest\nof the press, and slew on the right hand and on the left, till his horse\nwent fetlock deep in blood. So all day long they fought, and stinted not\ntill many a noble knight was slain.\nBut the king was passing sorrowful to see his trusty knights lie dead on\nevery side. And at the last but two remained beside him, Sir Lucan, and\nhis brother, Sir Bedivere, and both were sorely wounded.\n\"Now am I come to mine end,\" said King Arthur; \"but, lo! that traitor\nModred liveth yet, and I may not die till I have slain him. Now, give me\nmy spear, Sir Lucan.\"\n\"Lord, let him be,\" replied Sir Lucan; \"for if ye pass through this\nunhappy day, ye shall be right well revenged upon him. My good lord,\nremember well your dream, and what the spirit of Sir Gawain did\nfore-warn ye.\"\n\"Betide me life, betide me death,\" said the king; \"now I see him yonder\nalone, he shall never escape my hands, for at a better vantage shall I\nnever have him.\"\n\"God speed you well,\" said Sir Bedivere.\nThen King Arthur got his spear in both his hands, and ran towards Sir\nModred, crying, \"Traitor, now is thy death-day come!\" And when Sir\nModred heard his words, and saw him come, he drew his sword and stood to\nmeet him. Then King Arthur smote Sir Modred through the body more than a\nfathom. And when Sir Modred felt he had his death wound, he thrust\nhimself with all his might up to the end of King Arthur's spear, and\nsmote his father, Arthur, with his sword upon the head, so that it\npierced both helm and brain-pan.\nAnd therewith Sir Modred fell down stark dead to the earth, and King\nArthur fell down also in a swoon, and swooned many times.\nThen Sir Lucan and Sir Bedivere came and bare him away to a little\nchapel by the sea-shore. And there Sir Lucan sank down with the\nbleeding of his own wounds, and fell dead.\nAnd King Arthur lay long in a swoon, and when he came to himself, he\nfound Sir Lucan lying dead beside him, and Sir Bedivere weeping over the\nbody of his brother.\nThen said the king to Sir Bedivere, \"Weeping will avail no longer, else\nwould I grieve forevermore. Alas! now is the fellowship of the Round\nTable dissolved forever, and all my realm I have so loved is wasted with\nwar. But my time hieth fast, wherefore take thou Excalibur, my good\nsword, and go therewith to yonder water-side and throw it in, and bring\nme word what thing thou seest.\"\nSo Sir Bedivere departed; but as he went he looked upon the sword, the\nhilt whereof was all inlaid with precious stones exceeding rich. And\npresently he said within himself, \"If I now throw this sword into the\nwater, what good should come of it?\" So he hid the sword among the\nreeds, and came again to the king.\n\"What sawest thou?\" said he to Sir Bedivere.\n\"Lord,\" said he, \"I saw nothing else but wind and waves.\"\n\"Thou hast untruly spoken,\" said the king; \"wherefore go lightly back\nand throw it in, and spare not.\"\nThen Sir Bedivere returned again, and took the sword up in his hand; but\nwhen he looked on it, he thought it sin and shame to throw away a thing\nso noble. Wherefore he hid it yet again, and went back to the king.\n\"What saw ye?\" said King Arthur.\n\"Lord,\" answered he, \"I saw nothing but the water ebbing and flowing.\"\n\"Oh, traitor and untrue!\" cried out the king; \"twice hast thou now\nbetrayed me. Art thou called of men a noble knight, and wouldest betray\nme for a jewelled sword? Now, therefore, go again for the last time, for\nthy tarrying hath put me in sore peril of my life, and I fear my wound\nhath taken cold; and if thou do it not this time, by my faith I will\narise and slay thee with my hands.\"\nThen Sir Bedivere ran quickly and took up the sword, and went down to\nthe water's edge, and bound the girdle round the hilt and threw it far\ninto the water. And lo! an arm and hand came forth above the water, and\ncaught the sword, and brandished it three times, and vanished.\nSo Sir Bedivere came again to the king and told him what he had seen.\n\"Help me from hence,\" said King Arthur; \"for I dread me I have tarried\nover long.\"\nThen Sir Bedivere took the king up in his arms, and bore him to the\nwater's edge. And by the shore they saw a barge with three fair queens\ntherein, all dressed in black, and when they saw King Arthur they wept\nand wailed.\n\"Now put me in the barge,\" said he to Sir Bedivere, and tenderly he did\nso.\nThen the three queens received him, and he laid his head upon the lap of\none of them, who cried, \"Alas! dear brother, why have ye tarried so\nlong, for your wound hath taken cold?\"\nWith that the barge put from the land, and when Sir Bedivere saw it\ndeparting, he cried with a bitter cry, \"Alas! my lord King Arthur, what\nshall become of me now ye have gone from me?\"\n\"Comfort ye,\" said King Arthur, \"and be strong, for I may no more help\nye. I go to the Vale of Avilion to heal me of my grievous wound, and if\nye see me no more, pray for my soul.\"\nThen the three queens kneeled down around the king and sorely wept and\nwailed, and the barge went forth to sea, and departed slowly out of Sir\nBedivere's sight.\nTHE END", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg - King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table\n"}, {"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1451, "culture": " English\n", "content": "E-text prepared by Al Haines\nNote: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this\n file which includes the original illustrations.\n (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/2/0/5/22053/22053-h/22053-h.htm)\n (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/2/0/5/22053/22053-h.zip)\nSTORIES OF KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS\nRetold from Malory's \"Morte dArthur\"\nby\nU. WALDO CUTLER\n[Frontispiece: King Arthur]\n _The goodliest fellowship of famous knights_\n _Whereof this world holds record._\n TENNYSON\nGeorge G. Harrap & Co. Ltd.\nLondon ---- Bombay ---- Sydney\nFirst published January 1905\nby GEORGE G. HARRAP & COMPANY\n39-41 Parker Street, Kingsway, London, W.C.,\nReprinted: December 1905; July 1906; May 1907;\nJanuary 1909; September 1909; July 1910; July 1911;\nOctober 1912; October 1913; March 1915; February\nJune 1920; October 1921; October 1922;\nJune 1923; January 1925; April 1936;\nSeptember 1927; October 1928;\nJanuary 1930; January 1931;\nApril 1932\nCONTENTS\nINTRODUCTION\nCHAPTER\n I. OF THE BIRTH OF KING ARTHUR\n II. UTHER'S SON, RIGHTWISE KING OF ALL ENGLAND\n III. HOW ARTHUR GAT HIS SWORD EXCALIBUR\n IV. BALIN AND BALAN\n V. THE NOBLE ORDER OF THE ROUND TABLE\n VI. THE LADIES' KNIGHT\n VII. WISE MERLIN'S FOOLISHNESS\n VIII. A STAG-HUNT AND WHAT CAME OF IT\n IX. THE TREACHERY OF MORGAN LE FAY\n X. SIR LAUNCELOT OF THE LAKE\n XI. A NIGHT-TIME ADVENTURE OF SIR LAUNCELOT\n XII. HOW SIR LAUNCELOT CAME INTO THE CHAPEL PERILOUS\n XIII. THE KNIGHT, THE LADY, AND THE FALCON\n XIV. HOW A KITCHEN-PAGE CAME TO HONOUR\n XV. HOW SIR GARETH FOUGHT FOR THE LADY OF CASTLE PERILOUS\n XVI. HOW SIR GARETH RETURNED TO THE COURT OF KING ARTHUR\n XVII. HOW YOUNG TRISTRAM SAVED THE LIFE OF THE QUEEN\n OF LYONESSE\n XVIII. SIR TRISTRAM'S FIRST BATTLE\n XIX. SIR TRISTRAM AND THE FAIR ISOUD\n XX. HOW SIR TRISTRAM DEMANDED THE FAIR ISOUD FOR KING MARK,\n AND HOW SIR TRISTRAM AND ISOUD DRANK THE LOVE POTION\n XXI. HOW SIR TRISTRAM DEPARTED FROM TINTAGIL, AND WAS LONG\n IN THE FOREST\n XXII. HOW KING MARK WAS SORRY FOR THE GOOD RENOWN\n OF SIR TRISTRAM\n XXIII. HOW SIR PERCIVALE OF GALIS SOUGHT AND FOUND\n SIR LAUNCELOT\n XXIV. OF THE COMING OF SIR GALAHAD\n XXV. HOW THE QUEST OF THE HOLY GRAIL WAS BEGUN\n XXVI. HOW GALAHAD GAT HIM A SHIELD\n XXVII. SIR GALAHAD AT THE CASTLE OF MAIDENS\n XXVIII. SIR LAUNCELOT'S REPENTANCE\n XXIX. SIR PERCIVALE'S TEMPTATION\n XXX. THE VICTORY OF SIR BORS OVER HIMSELF\n XXXI. HOW SIR LAUNCELOT FOUND THE HOLY GRAIL\n XXXII. THE END OF THE QUEST\n XXXIII. SIR LAUNCELOT AND THE FAIR MAID OF ASTOLAT\n XXXIV. OF THE GREAT TOURNAMENT ON CANDLEMAS DAY\n XXXV. QUEEN GUENEVER'S MAY-DAY RIDE AND WHAT CAME OF IT\n XXXVI. OF THE PLOT AGAINST SIR LAUNCELOT\n XXXVII. HOW SIR LAUNCELOT DEPARTED FROM THE KING AND\n FROM JOYOUS GARD\n XXXVIII. HOW KING ARTHUR AND SIR GAWAINE INVADED\n SIR LAUNCELOT'S REALM\n XXXIX. OF SIR MORDRED'S TREASON\n XL. OF ARTHUR'S LAST GREAT BATTLE IN THE WEST\n XLI. OF THE PASSING OF KING ARTHUR\n XLII. OF THE END OF THIS BOOK\nILLUSTRATIONS\nKING ARTHUR . . . . . . . . . . . . (W. B. Margetson) _Frontispiece_\nTHE DEDICATION . . . . . . . . . . . (J. Pettie, R.A.)\nMERLIN AND NIMUE . . . . . . . . . . (Burne-Jones)\nSIR TRISTRAM AND THE FAIR ISOUD . . (D. G. Rosetti)\nSIR LAUNCELOT AT THE CROSS . . . . . (Stella Langdale)\nTHE PASSING OF ARTHUR . . . . . . . (Stella Langdale)\n\"We have from the kind Creator a variety of mental powers, to which we\nmust not neglect giving their proper culture in our earliest years, and\nwhich cannot be cultivated either by logic or metaphysics, Latin or\nGreek. We have an imagination, before which, since it should not seize\nupon the very first conceptions that chance to present themselves, we\nought to place the fittest and most beautiful images, and thus accustom\nand practise the mind to recognise and love the beautiful everywhere.\"\nQuoted from Wieland by Goethe in his Autobiography\nIntroduction\nAmong the best liked stories of five or six hundred years ago were\nthose which told of chivalrous deeds--of joust and tourney and knightly\nadventure. To be sure, these stories were not set forth in printed\nbooks, for there were no printed books as early as the times of the\nfirst three King Edwards, and few people could have read them if there\nhad been any. But children and grown people alike were eager to hear\nthese old-time tales read or recited by the minstrels, and the interest\nin them has continued in some measure through all the changing years\nand tastes. We now, in the times of the seventh King Edward, still\nfind them far more worth our while than many modern stories. For us\nthey have a special interest, because of home setting and Christian\nbasis, and they may well share in our attention with the legends of\nGreece and Rome.\nIn these early romances of chivalry, Arthur and his knights of the\nRound Table are by far the most popular heroes, and the finding of the\nHoly Grail is the highest achievement of knightly valour. The material\nfor the Arthur stories came from many countries and from many different\nperiods of history. Much of it is wholly fanciful, but the writers\nconnected all the incidents directly or indirectly with the old Briton\nking of the fifth century, who was the model of knighthood, \"without\nfear and without reproach.\"\nPerhaps there was a real King Arthur, who led the Britons against the\nSaxon invaders of their land, who was killed by his traitor nephew, and\nwho was buried at Glastonbury,--the valley of Avilion of the legends;\nperhaps there was a slight historical nucleus around which all the\nromantic material was crystallising through the centuries, but the\nArthur of romance came largely from the imagination of the early\nwriters.\nAnd yet, though our \"own ideal knight\" may never have trod the soil of\nBritain or Roman or Saxon England, his chivalrous character and the\nknightly deeds of his followers are real to us, if we read them\nrightly, for \"the poet's ideal was the truest truth.\" Though the\nsacred vessel--the Holy Grail--of the Christ's last supper with His\ndisciples has not been borne about the earth in material form, to be\nseen only by those of stainless life and character, it is eternally\ntrue that the \"pure in heart\" are \"blessed,\" \"for they shall see God.\"\nThis is what the Quest of the Holy Grail means, and there is still many\na true Sir Galahad, who can say, as he did,\n \"My strength is as the strength of ten,\n Because my heart is pure,\"\nand who attains the highest glory of knighthood, as before his clear\nvision\n \"down dark tides the glory glides,\n And starlike mingles with the stars.\"\nWe call these beautiful stories of long ago Stories of Chivalry, for,\nin the Middle Ages, chivalry influenced all that people did and said\nand thought. It began in the times of Charlemagne, a hundred years\nbefore our own King Alfred, and only very gradually it made its way\nthrough all the social order. Charlemagne was really a very great man,\nand because he was so, he left Western Europe a far better place to\nlive in than he found it. Into the social life of his time he brought\nsomething like order and justice and peace, and so he greatly helped\nthe Christian Church to do its work of teaching the rough and warlike\nFranks and Saxons and Normans the gentle ways of thrift and helpfulness.\nCharlemagne's \"heerban,\" or call to arms, required that certain of his\nmen should attend him on horseback, and this mounted service was the\nbeginning of what is known as chivalry. The lesser nobles of each\nfeudal chief served their overlords on horseback, _\u00e0 cheval_, in times\nof war; they were called _knights_, which originally meant\nservants,--German _knechte_; and the system of knighthood, its rules,\ncustoms, and duties, was called chivalry,--French _chevalerie_.\nChivalry belongs chiefly to the twelfth, thirteenth, and fourteenth\ncenturies,--to about the time between King Richard of the Lion Heart\nand Prince Hal. There is no trace of ideas peculiar to it in the\nwritings of the old Anglo-Saxons or in the _Nibelungen Lied_ of\nGermany. Geoffrey of Monmouth, who died, it is said, in the year 1154,\nis about the earliest writer who mentions customs that belong\nespecially to chivalry. The Crusades, of Geoffrey's century and of the\none following, gave much opportunity for its growth and practice; but\nin the fifteenth century chivalrous fashions and fancies began to seem\nabsurd, and later, perhaps partly through the ridicule of that old-time\nbook \"Don Quixote,\" chivalry was finally laughed quite out of existence.\nThe order of knighthood was given only after years of training and\ndiscipline. From his seventh year to his fourteenth the nobleman's son\nwas a _page_ at the court or in the castle of his patron, learning the\nprinciples of religion, obedience, and gallantry. At fourteen, as a\n_squire_, the boy began a severer course of training, in order to\nbecome skilled in horsemanship, and to gain strength and courage, as\nwell as the refinements and graces necessary in the company of knights\nand ladies.\nFinally, at twenty-one, his training was complete, and with elaborate\nand solemn formality the _squire_ was made a _knight_. Then, after a\nstrict oath to be loyal, courteous, and brave, the armour was buckled\non, and the proud young chevalier rode out into the world, strong for\ngood or ill in limb, strong in impenetrable armour, strong in a social\ncustom that lifted him above the common people about him.\nWhen rightly exercised chivalry was a great blessing to the people of\nits time. It offered high ideals of pure-minded, warm-hearted,\ncourtly, courageous Christian manhood. It did much to arouse thought,\nto quicken sympathy, to purify morals, to make men truly brave and\nloyal. Of course this ideal of character was not in the days of\nchivalry--ideals are not often now--very fully realised. The\nMediaeval, like the Modern, abused his power of muscle, of sword, of\nrank. His liberty as a knight-errant sometimes descended into the\nlicence of a highwayman; his pride in the opportunity for helpfulness\ngrew to be the braggadocio of a bully; his freedom of personal choice\nbecame the insolence of lawlessness; his pretended purity and justice\nproved wanton selfishness.\nBecause of these abuses that crept into the system, it is well for the\nworld that gunpowder at last came, to break through the knight's coat\nof mail, to teach the nobility respect for common men, roughly to end\nthis age of so much superficial politeness and savage bravery, and to\nbring in a more democratic social order.\nThe books of any age are for us a record of how the people of that age\nthought, how they lived, and what kind of men and women they tried to\nbe. The old romances of chivalry give us clear pictures of the knights\nand ladies of the Middle Ages, and we shall lose the delight and the\nprofit they may give us, if we think only of the defects of chivalry,\nand close our eyes to the really worthy motives of those far-off times,\nand so miss seeing what chivalry was able to do, while it lasted, to\nmake men and women better and happier.\nBefore reading the Arthur stories themselves it is well to know\nsomething about the way they have been built up, as one writer after\nanother has taken the material left by predecessors, and has worked\ninto it fresh conceptions of things brave and true. First there was\nthe old Latin chronicle of Nennius, the earliest trace of Arthurian\nfact or fancy, with a single paragraph given to Arthur and his twelve\ngreat battles. This chronicle itself may have been based on yet\nearlier Welsh stories, which had been passed on, perhaps for centuries,\nby oral tradition from father to son, and gradually woven together into\nsome legendary history of Oldest England in the local language of\nBrittany, across the English Channel. This original book is referred\nto by later writers, but was long ago lost. Geoffrey of Monmouth says\nit was the source of his material for his \"Historia Britonum.\"\nGeoffrey's history, in Latin prose, written some time about the middle\nof the twelfth century, remains as the earliest definite record of the\nlegends connected with King Arthur.\nOnly a little later Geoffrey's Latin history was translated by Wace and\nothers into Norman French, and here the Arthur material first appeared\nin verse form. Then, still later in the twelfth century, Walter Map\nworked the same stories over into French prose, and at the same time\nput so much of his own knowledge and imagination with them, that we may\nalmost say that he was the maker of the Arthur romances.\nSoon after the year twelve hundred,--a half century after Geoffrey of\nMonmouth first set our English ancestors to thinking about the\nlegendary old hero of the times of the Anglo-Saxon conquest--Layamon,\nparish priest of Ernly, in Worcestershire, gave to the English language\n(as distinct from the earlier Anglo-Saxon) his poem \"Brut.\" This was a\ntranslation and enlargement of Wace's old French poem having Arthur as\nhero. So these stories of King Arthur, of Welsh or Celtic origin, came\nthrough the Latin, and then through French verse and prose, into our\nown speech, and so began their career down the centuries of our more\nmodern history.\nAfter giving ideas to generation after generation of romance writers of\nmany countries and in many languages, these same romantic stories were,\nin the fifteenth century, skilfully brought together into one connected\nprose narrative,--one of the choicest of the older English classics,\n\"Le Morte Darthur,\" by Sir Thomas Malory. Those were troublous times\nwhen Sir Thomas, perhaps after having himself fought and suffered in\nthe Wars of the Roses then in progress, found some quiet spot in\nWarwickshire in which to put together in lasting form the fine old\nstories that already in his day were classics.\nMalory finished his book in 1470, and its permanence for all time was\nassured fifteen years later, when Caxton, after the \"symple connynge\"\nthat God had sent him (to use the quaint forms of expression then\ncommon), \"under the favour and correctyon of al noble lordes and\ngentylmen emprysed to emprynte a book of the noble hystoryes of the\nsayd Kynge Arthur and of certeyn of his knyghtes after a copye unto him\ndelyuerd whyche copye Syr Thomas Malorye dyd take oute of certeyn\nbookes of Frensche and reduced it in to Englysche.\" This hard-headed\nbusiness man,--this fifteenth-century publisher,--was rather doubtful\nabout the Briton king of a thousand years before his day, and to those\nurging upon him the venture of printing Malory's book he answered:\n\"Dyuers men holde oppynyon that there was no suche Arthur and that alle\nsuche bookes as been maad of hym ben fayned and fables by cause that\nsomme cronycles make of him no mencyon ne remember him noo thynge ne of\nhis knyghtes.\"\nBut the arguments of those in favour of the undertaking prevailed,\ngreatly to the advantage of the four centuries that have followed,\nduring which \"Le Morte Darthur\" has been a constant source of poetic\ninspiration. Generation after generation of readers and of writers\nhave drawn life from its chapters, and the new delight in Tennyson's\n\"Idylls of the King,\" almost of our own time, shows that the fountain\nhas not yet been drained dry.\nMalory's \"Morte Darthur\" is a long book, and its really great interest\nis partly hidden from us by forms of expression that belong only to the\ntime when it was first written. Besides this, the ideas of what was\nright and proper in conduct and speech--moral standards--were far lower\nin Malory's day than they are now.\nThe purpose of this new little volume is to bring the old tales freshly\nto the attention of young people of the present time. It keeps, as far\nas may be, the exact language and the spirit of the original, chooses\nsuch stories as best represent the whole, and modifies these only in\norder to remove what could possibly hide the thought, or be so crude in\ntaste and morals as to seem unworthy of the really high-minded author\nof five hundred years ago. It aims also so to condense the book that,\nin this age of hurry, readers may not be repelled from the tales merely\nbecause of their length.\nChivalry of just King Arthur's kind was given up long ago, but that for\nwhich it stood--human fellowship in noble purpose--is far older than\nthe institution of knighthood or than even the traditions of the\nenergetic, brave, true, helpful King Arthur himself. It links us with\nall the past and all the future. The knights of the twentieth century\ndo not set out in chain-armour to right the wrongs of the oppressed by\nforce of arms, but the best influences of chivalry have been preserved\nfor the quickening of a broader and a nobler world than was ever in the\ndreams of knight-errant of old. Modern heroes of the genuine type owe\nmore than they know to those of Arthur's court who swore:\n \"To reverence the King, as if he were\n Their conscience, and their conscience as their King,\n To break the heathen and uphold the Christ,\n To ride abroad redressing human wrongs,\n To speak no slander, no, nor listen to it,\n To honour his own word as if his God's,\n To lead sweet lives in purest chastity,\n To love one maiden only, cleave to her,\n And worship her by years of noble deeds,\n Until they won her.\"\n\"Antiquity produced heroes, but not gentlemen,\" someone has said. In\nthe days of Charlemagne and Alfred began the training which, continued\nin the days of Chaucer and Sir Thomas Malory and many, many more, has\ngiven to this our age that highest type of manhood, the Christian\ngentleman.\nStories of King Arthur\nCHAPTER I\nOF THE BIRTH OF KING ARTHUR\nIt befell in the days of Uther Pendragon, when he was king of all\nEngland, that there was a mighty duke in Cornwall that held war against\nhim a long time. And the duke was named the Duke of Tintagil. Ten\nmiles away from his castle, called Terrabil, there was, in the castle\nTintagil, Igraine of Cornwall, that King Uther liked and loved well,\nfor she was a good and fair lady, and passing wise. He made her great\ncheer out of measure, and desired to have her love in return; but she\nwould not assent unto him, and for pure anger and for great love of\nfair Igraine King Uther fell sick.\nAt that time there lived a powerful magician named Merlin, who could\nappear in any place he chose, could change his looks as he liked, and\nat will could do wonderful things to help or to harm knights and\nladies. So to King Uther came Sir Ulfius, a noble knight, and said, \"I\nwill seek Merlin, and he shall do you remedy so that your heart shall\nbe pleased.\" So Ulfius departed, and by adventure met Merlin in\nbeggar's array, and made him promise to be not long behind in riding to\nUther's pavilion.\nSoon Merlin stood by the king's side and said: \"I know all your heart,\nand promise ye shall have your desire, if ye will be sworn to fulfil my\nwish.\" This the king solemnly agreed to do, and then Merlin said:\n\"After ye shall win Igraine as wife, a child shall be born to you that\nis to be given unto me to be brought up as I will; this shall be for\nyour honour and the child's avail.\"\nThat night King Uther met in battle the Duke of Tintagil, who had\nprotected Igraine in her castle, and overcame him. Then Igraine\nwelcomed Uther as her true lover, for Merlin had given him the\nappearance of one dear to her, and, the barons being all well accorded,\nthe two were married on a morning with great mirth and joy.\nWhen the time came that Igraine should bear a son, Merlin came again\nunto the King to claim his promise, and he said: \"I know a lord of\nyours in this land, a passing true man and a faithful, named Sir Ector,\nand he shall have the nourishing of your child. Let the young Prince\nbe delivered to me at yonder privy postern, when I come for him.\"\nSo the babe, Arthur Pendragon, bound in a cloth of gold, was taken by\ntwo knights and two ladies to the postern gate of the castle and\ndelivered unto Merlin, disguised as a poor man, and by him was carried\nforth to Sir Ector, whose wife nourished him as her own child.\nThen within two years King Uther fell sick of a great malady.\nWherefore all the barons made great sorrow, and asked Merlin what\ncounsel were best, for few of them had ever seen or heard of the young\nchild, Arthur. On the morn all by Merlin's counsel came before the\nKing, and Merlin said: \"Sir, shall your son Arthur be king, after your\ndays, of this realm with all the appurtenance?\"\nThen Uther Pendragon turned him and said in hearing of them all, \"I\ngive him God's blessing and mine, and bid him righteously and\nhonourably to claim the crown upon forfeiture of my blessing.\"\nTherewith he died, and he was buried as befitted a king, and the Queen,\nfair Igraine, and all the barons made great sorrow.\nCHAPTER II\nUTHER'S SON, RIGHTWISE KING OF ALL ENGLAND\nThen stood the kingdom in great jeopardy a long while, for every lord\nstrengthened himself, and many a one thought to be king rather than be\nruled by a child that they had never known. All this confusion Merlin\nhad foreseen, and he had taken the young prince away, to keep him safe\nfrom the jealous barons until he should be old enough to rule wisely\nfor himself. Even Sir Ector did not know that the boy growing up with\nhis own son Kay was the King's child, and heir to the realm.\nWhen now young Arthur had grown into a tall youth, well trained in all\nthe exercises of honourable knighthood, Merlin went to the Archbishop\nof Canterbury and counselled him to send to all the lords of the realm\nand all the gentlemen of arms, that they should come to London at\nChristmas time, since God of His great mercy would at that time show by\nmiracle who should be rightwise king of the realm. The Archbishop did\nas Merlin advised, and all the great knights made them clean of their\nlife so that their prayer might be the more acceptable unto God, and\nwhen Christmas came they went unto London, each one thinking that\nperchance his wish to be made king should be granted. So in the\ngreatest church of the city (whether it was St Paul's or not the old\nchronicle maketh no mention) all were at their prayers long ere day.\nWhen matins were done and they came out of the church, there was seen\nin the churchyard a great square stone, in the midst of which was an\nanvil of steel, a foot high, with a fair sword naked at the point\nsticking through it. Written in gold about the sword were letters that\nread thus: \"Whoso pulleth out this sword from this stone and anvil is\nrightwise king born of all England.\"\n[Illustration: The Dedication.]\nAll the people marvelled at the stone and the inscription, and some\nassayed--such as would be king--to draw out the sword. But none might\nstir it, and the Archbishop said: \"He is not here that shall achieve\nthis sword, but doubt not God will make him known. This now is my\ncounsel, that we cause to be chosen ten knights, men of good fame, to\nguard this sword until the rightful possessor shall appear.\"\nSo it was ordained, and it was proclaimed that every man should assay\nthat would, to win the sword. And upon New Year's Day the barons held\njousts and a tournament for all knights that would engage. All this\nwas ordained for to keep the lords and the commons together, for the\nArchbishop trusted that God would soon make him known that should win\nthe sword. So upon New Year's Day the barons rode to the field, some\nto joust and some to tourney; and it happened that Sir Ector rode also,\nand with him Sir Kay, his son, that had just been made knight, and\nyoung Arthur that was his foster-brother.\nAs they rode to the joust-ward Sir Kay suddenly missed his sword, which\nhe had left at his father's lodging, and he begged young Arthur to ride\nand fetch it. \"I will gladly,\" said Arthur, and he hastened off home.\nBut the lady and all the household were out to see the jousting, and he\nfound nobody at home to deliver him the sword. Then was Arthur\ntroubled, and said to himself, \"I will ride to the churchyard and take\nthe sword that sticketh in the stone, for my brother Sir Kay shall not\nbe without a sword this day.\"\nSo when he came to the great stone Arthur alighted, and tied his horse\nto the stile. He then went straight to the tent of the guards, but\nfound no knights there, for they were at the jousting. So he took the\nsword by the handles, and lightly and fiercely pulled it out of the\nanvil; then he mounted his horse and rode his way till he came to his\nbrother Sir Kay, and delivered him the sword.\nAs soon as Sir Kay saw the sword, he knew well it was that one of the\nstone, and so he rode away to his father, Sir Ector, and said: \"Sir, lo\nhere is the sword of the stone; wherefore I must be king of this land.\"\nWhen Sir Ector beheld the sword, all three returned to the church and\nentered it. Anon Sir Ector made Sir Kay to swear upon a book how he\ncame by that sword. And Sir Kay answered that Arthur had brought it to\nhim. \"And how gat ye the sword?\" said he to Arthur; and when Sir Ector\nheard how it had been pulled from the anvil, he said to Arthur: \"Now I\nunderstand ye must be king of this land.\"\n\"Wherefore I?\" said Arthur, \"and for what cause?\"\n\"Sir,\" said Ector, \"for God will have it so; for there should never man\nhave drawn out this sword but he that shall be rightwise king. Now let\nme see whether ye can put the sword there as it was, and pull it out\nagain.\"\n\"That is no mastery,\" said Arthur, and so he put it into the stone.\nTherewith Sir Ector assayed to pull out the sword, and failed. Then\nSir Kay pulled at it with all his might, but it would not yield.\n\"Now shall ye assay again,\" said Sir Ector to Arthur.\n\"I will well,\" said Arthur, and pulled it out easily a second time.\nNow was Sir Ector sure that Arthur was of higher blood than had been\nthought, and that the rightful king had been made known. And he told\nhis foster-son all, how he was not his father, but had taken him to\nnourish at Merlin's request. Arthur was grieved indeed when he\nunderstood that Sir Ector was not his father, and that the good lady\nthat had fostered and kept him as her own son was not his true mother,\nand he said to Sir Ector, \"If ever it be God's will that I be king, as\nye say, ye shall desire of me what I may do, and I shall not fail you.\"\nTherewithal they went unto the Archbishop and told him how the sword\nwas achieved, and by whom. And all the barons came thither, that\nwhoever would might assay to take the sword. But there before them all\nnone might take it out but Arthur. Now many lords became wroth, and\nsaid it was great shame unto them all and to the realm to be governed\nby a boy. They contended so at that time that the matter was put off\ntill Candlemas, when all the barons should meet there again. A\npavilion was set over the stone and the sword, and the ten knights were\nordained to watch there day and night, five being always on guard.\nSo at Candlemas many more great lords came thither to win the sword,\nbut none might prevail except Arthur. The barons were sore aggrieved\nat this, and again put it off in delay till the high feast of Easter.\nAnd as Arthur sped afore, so did he at Easter; yet there were some of\nthe great lords that had indignation that Arthur should be their king,\nand put it off in a delay till the feast of Pentecost.\nAt the feast of Pentecost all manner of men assayed to pull at the\nsword, yet none might prevail but Arthur; and he pulled it out afore\nall the lords and commons that were there. Wherefore all the commons\ncried at once, \"We will have Arthur unto our king; we will put him no\nmore in delay, for we all see that it is God's will that he shall be\nour king, and who that holdeth against it we will slay as traitor.\"\nAnd they kneeled down all at once, both rich and poor, and begged mercy\nof Arthur, because they had delayed so long. And Arthur forgave them,\nand took the sword between both his hands, and offered it upon the\naltar where the Archbishop was, and so was he made knight of the best\nman that was there.\nAnd anon was the coronation made, and there Arthur swore unto his lords\nand the commons to be a true king, to stand for justice all the days of\nhis life. Then he made all the lords that were subject to the crown to\ncome in, and to do service as they ought to do. And many great wrongs\nthat had been done since the death of King Uther were righted, and to\nlords, knights, ladies, and gentlemen were given back the lands of\nwhich they had been unjustly deprived. When the king had thus\nestablished justice in all the countries about London, he made Sir Kay\nseneschal of England, and other officers he appointed also that should\naid in keeping back his enemies and holding his realm in peace and\norderliness.\nCHAPTER III\nHOW ARTHUR GAT HIS SWORD EXCALIBUR\nOn a day there came into the court of the young King a squire on\nhorseback, bringing a knight, his master, mortally wounded, and seeking\njustice against the murderer. Then came up Griflet, that was but a\nsquire, a young man of the age of King Arthur, and asked to be given\nthe order of knighthood, that he might ride out against the knight that\nhad done the evil deed, who dwelt by a well in the forest.\nArthur was loath to bring this passing brave youth into peril by giving\nhim so high an adventure; but at the desire of Griflet the King at the\nlast gave him the order of knighthood, and he rode away till he came to\nthe fountain.\nThere he saw the pavilion of the knight, and his horse all saddled and\nbridled, and his shield of divers colours, and a great spear hanging on\na tree hard by. Griflet struck the shield with the butt of his spear,\nso that it fell clattering down to the ground. With that the knight\ncame out of the pavilion and said, \"Fair knight, why smote ye down my\nshield?\"\n\"For I will joust with you,\" said Griflet.\n\"It is better ye do not,\" said the knight, \"for ye are but a young and\nlate-made knight, and your might is nothing to mine.\"\nBut Griflet would have it so, and the two ran together with such force\nthat Griflet's spear was all shattered, and horse and rider fell down\nsore wounded. When the knight saw the youth lying on the ground, he\nwas heavy of heart; and he unlaced his helm to give him air, and\nfinally setting him on his horse, sent him with cheering words back to\nthe court. Here great dole was made for him because of his wounds, and\nArthur was passing wroth for the hurt of Sir Griflet.\nThe next morning ere day the King ordered his best horse, and in full\narmour rode out alone to encounter the knight of the fountain. It was\na strong battle they had. Arthur's spear was all shattered, and his\nhorse fell to the ground. Then they fought with swords with many great\nstrokes and much blood-shed on both sides. Finally by a mighty blow\nfrom his enemy,--a passing big man of might,--Arthur's sword was\nsmitten in two pieces, and he was called upon to yield himself as\novercome and recreant, or die.\n\"As for death,\" said King Arthur, \"welcome be it when it cometh; but to\nyield me unto thee as recreant, I had rather die than to be so shamed.\"\nTherewithal came Merlin, and made known who Arthur was. Then by\nenchantment he caused the knight to fall into a deep sleep, and bore\nArthur away to a hermit to be cured of his wounds.\nWhen, after three days of rest and healing, he was riding with Merlin\nthrough the forest, King Arthur said, \"I have no sword.\"\n\"No matter,\" said Merlin; \"there is one near by that I can perhaps get\nfor you.\"\nSo they rode on till it chanced that they passed a fair and broad lake.\nIn the midst of the water Arthur became aware of an arm clothed in\nwhite samite[1] holding aloft a beautiful sword.\n\"Lo! there is the sword of which I spake,\" said Merlin, \"and yonder is\nthe Lady of the Lake ready to help you to it, if ye speak fair to her.\"\nAnon came the damsel unto Arthur and saluted him, and he her again.\n\"Damsel,\" said Arthur, \"what sword is it that the arm holdeth above the\nwater yonder? I would it were mine, for I have no sword.\"\n\"Sir Arthur King,\" said the damsel, \"that sword is mine, and if ye will\ngive me a gift when I ask it you, go ye into yonder barge and row\nyourself to the sword, and take it and the scabbard with you.\"\nSo Sir Arthur and Merlin alighted and tied their horses to a tree, and\nthen they went into the magic boat. Soon they were beside the sword\nthat the hand held up. Arthur took it by the handle, the arm and the\nhand went down beneath the water, and the two travellers rowed back to\nthe land and went forth.\nAs they rode along Arthur looked on the sword, which had the name\nExcalibur, that is as much as to say Cut-steel, and he liked it passing\nwell, for the handle was all set with precious stones.\n\"Which like you better,\" said Merlin, \"the sword or the scabbard?\"\n\"The sword,\" replied Arthur.\n\"Ye are unwise,\" said Merlin; \"the scabbard is worth ten of the sword,\nfor while ye have the scabbard upon you, ye shall lose no blood;\ntherefore keep well the scabbard always with you.\"\nIn this way Arthur came by Excalibur, and many an adventure he was to\nhave with it, and was to suffer great danger when by evil interference\nit was, as we shall see, for a time stolen from him. With it in hand\nthe hardest fight went well in the end, for the scabbard kept him from\nweakness, and a mysterious power lay in the strong, true blade that\nnone could withstand, until the time came for King Arthur to give back\nthe sword to the Lady of the Lake and to die of the wounds of a traitor.\nSo King Arthur and Merlin rode on, and when they came back safe to\nCarlion and the court the knights were passing glad. Some wondered\nthat the king would risk himself abroad so alone, but all men of valour\nsaid it was merry to be under such a chief that would put his person in\nadventure as other poor knights did.\n[1] Samite: silk stuff\nCHAPTER IV\nBALIN AND BALAN\nOn a day there came a messenger to King Arthur saying that King Ryons\nof North Wales, a strong man in body, and passing proud, had\ndiscomfited and overcome eleven kings, and each of these to do him\nhomage had cut his beard clean off as trimming for King Ryons' royal\nmantle. One place of the mantle still lacked trimming; wherefore he\nsent for Arthur's beard, and if he did not receive it he would enter\nEngland to burn and slay, and never would he leave till he had Arthur,\nhead and all.\n\"Well,\" said Arthur to the messenger, \"thou hast said thy message, the\nmost insolent ever sent unto a king. Thou seest my beard is full young\nyet to make a trimming of it. Tell thou thy king I owe him no homage,\nbut ere long he shall do me homage on both his knees.\" So the\nmessenger departed.\nAmong those who, at Arthur's call, gathered at Camelot to withstand\nKing Ryons' invasion of the land was a knight that had been Arthur's\nprisoner half a year and more for some wrong done to one of the court.\nThe name of this knight was Balin, a strong, courageous man, but poor\nand so poorly clothed that he was thought to be of no honour. But\nworthiness and good deeds are not all only in arrayment. Manhood and\nhonour is hid within man's person, and many an honourable knight is not\nknown unto all people through his clothing. This Balin felt deeply the\ninsult of King Ryons, and anon armed himself to ride forth to meet with\nhim and mayhap to destroy him, in the hope that then King Arthur would\nagain be his good and gracious lord.\nThe meanwhile that this knight was making ready to depart on this\nadventure, there came to Arthur's court the Lady of the Lake, and she\nnow asked of him the gift that he promised her when she gave him his\nsword Excalibur.\n\"Ask what ye will,\" said the King, \"and ye shall have it, if it lie in\nmy power to give.\"\nThereupon she demanded Balin's head, and would take none other thing.\n\"Truly,\" said King Arthur, \"I may not grant this with my honour,\" and\nBalin was allowed to make ready for the adventure with King Ryons.\nBut ere he had left the court he saw the Lady of the Lake. He went\nstraight to her, and with his sword lightly smote off her head before\nKing Arthur, for he knew her as the untruest lady living, one that by\nenchantment and sorcery had been the destroyer of many good knights.\n\"Alas! for shame,\" said Arthur. \"Why have ye done so? Ye have shamed\nme and all my court, for this was a lady that I was beholden to, and\nhither she came under my safe conduct. I shall never forgive you that\ntrespass. What cause soever ye had, ye should have spared her in my\npresence; therefore withdraw you out of my court in all haste that ye\nmay.\"\nSo Balin,--called Balin the Wild for his savage and reckless\nnature,--departed with his squire, and King Arthur and all the court\nmade great mourning, and had shame at the death of the Lady of the\nLake. Then the King buried her richly.\nIn sorrow over the evil he had wrought and the disfavour of his king,\nBalin turned his horse towards a great forest, and there by the armour\nhe was ware of his brother Balan. And when they were met, they put off\ntheir helms and kissed together, and wept for joy.\nAnon the knight Balin told his brother of the death of the Lady of the\nLake, and said: \"Truly I am right heavy of heart that my lord Arthur is\ndispleased with me, for he is the most honourable knight that reigneth\non earth, and his love I will get or else I will put my life in\nadventure with King Ryons, that lieth now at the castle Terrabil.\nThither will we ride together in all haste, to prove our honour and\nprowess upon him.\"\n\"I will gladly do that,\" said Balan; \"we will help each other as\nbrothers ought to do.\"\nSo they took their way to find King Ryons, and as they rode along\ntogether they encountered him in a straight way with threescore\nknights. Anon Balin and Balan smote him down from his horse, and slew\non the right hand and the left hand more than forty of his men. The\nremnant fled, and King Ryons yielded him unto their grace as prisoner.\nSo they laid him on a horse-litter, for he was fiercely wounded, and\nbrought him to Camelot. There they delivered him to the porters and\ncharged them with him; and then they two returned to further adventure.\nAnd Balin rode towards the castle of King Pellam to revenge the wrongs\nof knights and ladies on a treacherous knight named Garlon. He had a\nfifteen days' journey thither, and the day he came unto the castle\nthere began a great feast. Balin was well received, and led to a\nchamber, where he laid off his armour. They also brought him robes to\nhis pleasure, and would have had him leave his sword behind him.\n\"Nay,\" said Balin, \"that do I not, for it is the custom of my country\nfor a knight always to have his weapon with him, and that custom will I\nkeep, or else I will depart as I came.\"\nThen they gave him leave to wear his sword, and so he went unto the\nhall and was set among the knights of honour.\nSoon he saw the false knight Garlon, and thought to himself: \"If I slay\nhim here I shall not escape, and if I leave him now, peradventure I\nshall never meet with him again at such a good time, and much harm will\nhe do if he live.\"\nThen this Garlon espied that Balin watched him, and he came and smote\nBalin on the face, and said: \"Knight, why watchest thou me so? Eat thy\nmeat, and do that thou camest for.\"\nThen Balin said, \"I will do that I came for,\" and rose up fiercely and\nclove his head to the shoulders.\nAnon all the knights arose from the table to set on Balin, and King\nPellam himself caught in his hand a grim weapon and smote eagerly at\nBalin, but Balin put his sword betwixt his head and the stroke. With\nthat his sword was broken in sunder, and he, now weaponless, ran into\nthe chamber to seek some weapon, and so, from chamber to chamber, but\nno weapon could he find, and alway King Pellam came after him.\nAt last Balin entered into a chamber that was marvellously well\nfurnished and richly, wherein was a bed arrayed with cloth of gold, the\nrichest that might be thought, and thereby a table of clean gold, and\nupon the table a marvellous spear, strangely wrought. And when Balin\nsaw that spear he took it in his hand, and turned to King Pellam and\nsmote him passing hard with it so that he fell down in a swoon.\nTherewith the castle roof and walls brake and fell to the earth, and\nBalin also, so that he might not stir foot nor hand, for through that\ndolorous stroke the most part of the castle that was fallen down lay\nupon him and Pellam.\nAfter three days Merlin came thither, and he took up Balin and gat him\na good horse, for his was dead, and bade him ride out of the country.\nMerlin also told him that his stroke had turned to great dole, trouble,\nand grief, for the marvellous spear was the same with which Longius,\nthe Roman soldier, smote our Lord Jesus Christ to the heart at the\ncrucifixion.\nThen departed Balin from Merlin, never to meet him again, and rode\nforth through the fair countries and cities about Pellam Castle, and\nfound people dead, slain on every side. And all that were left alive\ncried: \"O Balin, thou hast caused great damage in these countries, for\nby the dolorous stroke thou gavest unto King Pellam three countries are\ndestroyed, and doubt not but the vengeance will fall on thee at the\nlast.\"\nWhen Balin was out of those countries he was passing glad, and after\nmany days he came by a cross, whereon were letters of gold written that\nsaid, \"It is not for any knight alone to ride towards this castle.\"\nThen saw he an old hoary gentleman coming towards him that said, \"Balin\nthe Wild, thou passest thy bounds to come this way; therefore turn\nagain and it will avail thee.\" The old gentleman vanished away, and\nthen Balin heard a horn blow, as if for the death of a beast in the\nchase. \"That blast,\" said he, \"is blown for me, for I am the prize,\nyet am I not dead.\" Anon he saw a hundred ladies and many knights,\nthat welcomed him with fair semblance, and made him passing good cheer\nseemingly, and led him into the castle, where there were dancing and\nminstrelsy, and all manner of joy.\nThen the chief lady of the castle said, \"Knight, you must have ado with\na knight close by that keepeth an island, for there may no man pass\nthis way but he must joust, ere he go farther.\"\n\"That is an unhappy custom,\" said Balin, \"that a knight may not pass\nthis way unless he joust, but since that is my duty, thereto am I\nready. Travelling men are oft weary, and their horses also; but though\nmy horse be weary my heart is not weary.\"\n\"Sir,\" said the knight then to Balin, \"me thinketh your shield is not\ngood; I will lend you a better.\"\nSo Balin took the shield that was unknown, and left his own, and rode\nunto the island. He put himself and his horse in a great boat, and\nwhen he came on the other side he met with a damsel, and she said, \"O\nKnight Balin, why hast thou left thine own shield? Alas! thou hast put\nthyself in great danger, for by thine own shield thou shouldst have\nbeen known. It is a great pity, for of thy prowess and hardiness thou\nhast no equal living.\"\n\"Me repenteth,\" said Balin, \"that ever I came within this country, but\nI may not turn now again for shame, and what adventure shall fall to\nme, be it life or death, I will take the adventure that shall come to\nme.\"\nThen he looked on his armour, and understood he was well armed, for\nwhich he was thankful, and so he mounted upon his horse. Then before\nhim he saw come riding out of a castle a knight in red armour, and his\nhorse was all trapped in the same colour. When this knight in red\nbeheld Balin, he thought he was like his brother; but because he knew\nnot his shield, he deemed it was not he. And so they couched their\nspears and came marvellously fast together, and they smote each other\nin the shields; but their spears were so heavy and their course so\nswift that horse and man were borne down, and both knights lay in a\nswoon. Balin was bruised sore with the fall of his horse, for he was\nweary with travel, and Balan (for the knight in red was none other) was\nthe first that rose to his feet. He drew his sword and went towards\nBalin, who arose and went against him. But Balan smote Balin first,\nstriking through his shield and cleaving his helm. Then Balin smote\nhim in return with that unhappy sword that had already wrought so great\nharm, and the blow well nigh felled his brother Balan. So they fought\nthere together till their breaths failed.\nThen Balin looked up to the castle, and saw the towers stand full of\nladies; so they went to battle again and wounded each other dolefully.\nThen they breathed ofttimes, and yet again went unto battle, until all\nthe place there was blood-red from the great wounds that either had\nsmitten other, and their hauberks became unriveted so that naked they\nwere on every side.\nAt last Balan, the younger brother, withdrew a little and laid himself\ndown. Then said Balin the Wild, \"What knight art thou? for ere now I\nfound never a knight that matched me.\"\n\"My name is,\" said he, \"Balan, brother to the good knight Balin.\"\n\"Alas!\" said Balin, \"that ever I should see this day.\" Thereupon he\nfell backward in a swoon.\nThen Balan crept on all fours to his brother and put oft his helm, but\nhe might not know him, his visage was so disguised by blood and wounds.\nBut when Balin awoke, he said, \"O Balan, my brother, thou hast slain me\nand I thee, wherefore all the wide world shall speak of us both.\"\n\"Alas!\" said Balan; \"that ever I saw this day, that through mishap I\nmight not know thee! Because thou hadst another shield I deemed thou\nwert another knight.\"\n\"Alas!\" said Balin, \"all this was caused by an unhappy knight in the\ncastle, that made me leave mine own shield, to the destruction of us\nboth.\"\nThen anon Balan died, and at midnight after, Balin; so both were buried\ntogether, and the lady of the castle had Balan's name written on the\ntomb and how he was there slain by his brother's hand, but she knew not\nBalin's name. In the morn came Merlin and wrote Balin's inscription\nalso in letters of gold: \"Here lieth Balin the Wild, that smote the\ndolorous stroke.\"\nSoon after this was done Merlin came to King Arthur and told him of the\ndolorous stroke that Balin gave King Pellam, and how Balin and Balan\nfought together the most marvellous battle that ever was heard of, and\nhow they buried both in one tomb. \"Alas!\" said King Arthur; \"this is\nthe greatest pity that ever I heard tell of two knights, for in the\nworld I know not such two knights.\"\nThus endeth the tale of Balin and Balan, two brethren born in\nNorthumberland, good knights both.\nCHAPTER V\nTHE NOBLE ORDER OF THE ROUND TABLE\nArthur was indeed king, but enemies long held out against his just\nauthority. When he went into Wales to be crowned at the city of\nCarlion, he let cry a great feast to be holden at Pentecost. Unto this\nfeast came the six kings of that region with many of their knights, and\nArthur thought it was to do him honour. But when he made joy of their\ncoming and sent them great presents, the kings would none receive, and\nsaid they had no joy to receive gifts of a beardless boy that was come\nof low birth. They sent him word that they were come to give him gifts\nwith hard swords betwixt the neck and the shoulders, for it was great\nshame to all of them to see such a boy have rule of so noble a realm as\nthis land was.\nThis answer was told King Arthur, who now betook himself to a strong\ntower and five hundred good men with him. Here the six kings laid\nsiege to him, but he was well victualled; and soon Merlin came and bade\nhim fear not, but speak boldly to his enemies, \"for,\" said he, \"ye\nshall overcome them all, whether they will or nill.\"\nSo the King armed himself and all his knights and came out to do battle\nwith his enemies. Then three hundred good men of the best that were\nwith the kings went straight over unto King Arthur, which comforted him\ngreatly. So he set upon the hosts of the six kings, and he and his men\ndid marvellous deeds of arms. Therewith he put them back, and then the\ncommons of Carlion arose with clubs and staves and slew many of the\nenemy, and so they fled away.\nSince the enemy were still passing strong, Merlin counselled King\nArthur to send letters well devised beyond the sea to the two brethren,\nmarvellous good men of their hands, named one King Ban of Benwick and\nthe other King Bors of Gaul, and to say to them that, if they would\ncome and help King Arthur in his wars, he in turn would be sworn unto\nthem to help them in their wars against King Claudas, a mighty man that\nstrove with them for a castle.\nSo there were made letters in the pleasantest wise, according to King\nArthur's desire, and Ulfius and Brastias, the messengers, rode forth\nwell horsed and well armed, and so passed the sea and came to the city\nof Benwick. Here they had good cheer as long as they tarried, and\nreceived the answer that King Ban and King Bors would come unto King\nArthur in all the haste they might.\nNow those six kings in Wales had by their means gotten unto them five\nother kings, and all swore together that for weal or woe they would not\nleave each other till they had destroyed Arthur. So their whole host\ndrew towards Arthur, now strengthened by Ban and Bors with their\nfollowers that had crossed from Gaul to his aid. Then followed a great\nbattle, and they did on both sides great deeds of arms until at the\nlast Merlin counselled Arthur to fight no longer, since the eleven\nkings had more on hand than they were ware of, and would soon depart\nhome; for a messenger would come and tell them that lawless people as\nwell as Saracens, forty thousand in number, had entered their lands and\nwere burning and slaying without mercy. So the great battle was ended,\nand the eleven kings went to their own country.\nNow King Arthur, King Ban, and King Bors came with their following into\nthe country of Cameliard, and there aided King Leodegrance against an\nenemy of that land. King Leodegrance thanked them for their goodness,\nand made them great cheer ere King Ban and King Bors departed back\ntowards Benwick.\nIn Cameliard Arthur had the first sight of Guenever, the King's\ndaughter, and ever afterwards he loved her. So when peace was once\nmore in his land, King Arthur asked counsel of Merlin about seeking her\nas his wife, for to him she was the most valiant and fairest lady\nliving or to be found.\n\"Sir,\" said Merlin, \"as for her beauty, she is one of the fairest\nalive, but if ye loved her not so well as ye do, I could choose better\nfor you. Yet when a man's heart is set, he will be loath to change.\"\nSo Merlin was sent forth to King Leodegrance, and he told him of King\nArthur's desire. King Leodegrance was glad that so worthy a king of\nprowess and of nobleness would wed his daughter, and promised him as\nwedding gift,--not lands, for he had enough and needed none,--but what\nwould please him much more, the Table Round, which Uther Pendragon had\ngiven to the King of Cameliard,--a table made by Merlin at which an\nhundred and fifty knights might be seated.\nSo Guenever, attended by Merlin and an hundred good knights (all King\nLeodegrance could spare, so many had been slain in his wars) with the\nRound Table rode with great pomp by water and by land to London. There\nKing Arthur made great joy of their coming, for he had long loved\nGuenever. Also the gift pleased him more than right great riches. And\nthe marriage and the coronation were ordained with all speed in the\nmost honourable wise that could be devised.\nMerlin was sent to espy out in all the land fifty knights of most\nprowess and honour, who should make up the full number for the Round\nTable. Only twenty-eight could he find worthy enough, and these Merlin\nfetched to Arthur's court. And Merlin made sieges (seats), an hundred\nand fifty in all, for the knights, and he placed in every knight's\nsiege his name in letters of gold.\nOn that same day King Arthur founded the great order of the Round\nTable, the fame of which was to last for all time. An hundred and\ntwenty-eight were then sworn as Knights of the Table Round, and every\nyear at the high feast of Pentecost others were to be added as they\nshowed themselves worthy. Only one siege was long empty, the Siege\nPerilous, for no man should sit therein but one, and if any one of\nunworthy life were so hardy as to sit therein, he should be destroyed.\nWith great ceremony each one took the vows of true knighthood, solemnly\npromising to do no wicked deed, to be loyal to the King, to give mercy\nto those asking it, always to be courteous and helpful to ladies, and\nto fight in no wrongful quarrel for wordly gain, upon pain of death or\nforfeiture of knighthood and King Arthur's favour. Unto this were all\nthe knights of the Round Table sworn, both old and young. To dishonour\nknighthood was the greatest disgrace; to prove themselves worthy of\nknightly honour by strong, brave, courteous, loyal bearing under great\ndifficulties was the highest end of living.\nSo King Arthur stablished all his knights, and to them that were not\nrich he gave lands; and they rode abroad to right the wrongs of men,\nand to give help to the oppressed. With their aid he secured order and\njustice throughout his realm, and then the weakest man might do his\nwork in peace, and prosper.\nCHAPTER VI\nTHE LADIES' KNIGHT\nThe King was wedded unto Dame Guenever at Camelot with great solemnity.\nJust as all were sitting at the high feast that followed the marriage,\nthere came running into the hall a white hart, followed by a whole pack\nof hounds with a great cry, and the hart went about the Table Round.\nAt a fierce bite from one of the dogs the hart made a great leap, and\noverthrew a knight that sat at the table, and so passed forth out of\nthe hall again, with all the dogs after him. When they were gone the\nKing was glad, for they made such a noise, but Merlin said, \"Ye may not\nleave this adventure so lightly. Let call Sir Gawaine, for he must\nbring again the white hart.\"\n\"I will,\" said the King, \"that all be done by your advice.\" So Sir\nGawaine was called, and he took his charge and armed himself for the\nadventure. Sir Gawaine was one of King Arthur's nephews, and had just\nbeen made a knight, for he had asked of the King the gift of knighthood\non the same day that he should wed fair Guenever.\nSo Sir Gawaine rode quickly forth, and Gaheris his brother rode with\nhim, instead of a squire, to do him service. As they followed the hart\nby the cry of the hounds, they came to a great river. The hart swam\nover, and they followed after, and so at length they chased him into a\ncastle, where in the chief courtyard the dogs slew the hart before Sir\nGawaine and young Gaheris came up. Right so there came a knight out of\na room, with a sword drawn in his hand, and he slew two of the\ngreyhounds even in the sight of Sir Gawaine, and the remnant he chased\nwith his sword out of the castle.\nWhen he came back he said, \"O my white hart, me repenteth that thou art\ndead, for my sovereign lady gave thee to me, and poorly have I kept\nthee. Thy death shall be dear bought, if I live.\"\nAnon he came fiercely towards Sir Gawaine, and they struck mightily\ntogether. They clove their shields and broke their helms and hauberks\nso that the blood ran down to their feet. At the last Sir Gawaine\nsmote the knight so hard that he fell to the earth; and then he cried\nfor mercy and yielded himself, and besought Sir Gawaine as he was a\nknight and gentleman to save his life.\n\"Thou shalt die,\" said Sir Gawaine, \"for slaying of my hounds.\"\n\"I will make amends,\" said the knight, \"unto my power.\"\nSir Gawaine would no mercy have, but unlaced his helm to strike off his\nhead, when at that instant came his lady out of a chamber. She fell\nupon her husband just as the blow descended, and so Sir Gawaine smote\noff her head by misadventure, and the knight was saved.\n\"Alas!\" said Gaheris, \"that is foul and shamefully done; that shame\nshall never depart from you. Ye should give mercy unto them that ask\nmercy, for a knight without mercy is without honour.\"\nSir Gawaine was so astonished at the death of the fair lady that he\nknew not what he did, and he said unto the knight, \"Arise, I will give\nthee mercy; and go thou unto King Arthur, and tell him how thou art\novercome by the knight that went in the quest of the white hart.\"\n\"I care not for mercy now,\" said the knight, \"for thou hast slain my\nlady that I loved best of all earthly things it matters not whether I\nlive or die.\"\nThen Sir Gawaine went into the castle and made ready to rest there all\nnight.\n\"What will ye do?\" said Gaheris; \"will ye unarm you in this country?\nYe may believe ye have many enemies here.\"\nHe had no sooner said that word than there came four knights well\narmed, and anon they made Sir Gawaine and Gaheris yield themselves as\nprisoners, in spite of the brave battle wherein Sir Gawaine was sore\nwounded in the arm.\nEarly on the morrow there came to Sir Gawaine in the prison one of the\nladies of the castle, and said, \"Sir Knight, what cheer?\"\n\"Not good,\" said he.\n\"It is your own fault,\" said the lady, \"for ye have done a passing foul\ndeed in the slaying of the lady, which will be great disgrace unto you.\nBe ye not of King Arthur's kin?\"\n\"Yes, truly,\" said Sir Gawaine. \"My name is Gawaine, and my mother is\nKing Arthur's sister.\"\n\"Ah, then are ye nephew unto King Arthur,\" said the lady, \"and I shall\nso speak for you that ye shall have conduct to King Arthur, for love of\nhim.\"\nThen anon they delivered Sir Gawaine under this promise, that he should\nbear the dead lady to the court, the severed head hanging about his\nneck. Right so he rode forth unto Camelot, and Merlin made him tell of\nhis adventure, and how he slew the lady, and how he would give no mercy\nunto the knight, whereby the lady was slain. Then the King and the\nQueen were greatly displeased with Sir Gawaine, and by ordinance of the\nQueen there was set a quest of ladies on Sir Gawaine, and they ordered\nhim for ever while he lived to be with all ladies, and to fight for\ntheir quarrels; and that ever he should be courteous, and never refuse\nmercy to him that asketh mercy. Thus was Gawaine sworn upon the four\nEvangelists that he should never be against lady nor gentlewoman,\nexcept if he fought for a lady and his adversary fought for another.\nThus endeth the adventure of Sir Gawaine, that he did at the marriage\nof King Arthur.\nCHAPTER VII\nWISE MERLIN'S FOOLISHNESS\nArthur was now established as king over all the land. The great\ncouncil hall at Camelot, that is Winchester, had been built, some say\nby Merlin's skill; and the most loyal and the bravest knights of the\nworld had been gathered at Arthur's court to do honour to him and his\nfair Queen Guenever.\nMerlin was Arthur's wisest helper and most powerful friend, as he had\nbefore been the helper and friend of his father Uther, for whom he had\nmade the Round Table, signifying the roundness of the world. We have\nseen how he hid the young Arthur away from the jealousy of the wild\nbarons, and how, by his power over men and his knowledge of what would\nbe, he had saved the King's life and guided his wise rule. The old\nmagician Bleise, that dwelt in Northumberland, was Merlin's master, and\nhe it was that wrote down all the battles of Arthur with his enemies\nword by word as Merlin told him, and all the battles that were done in\nArthur's days, until Merlin was lost, as we shall see, through his own\nfoolishness.\nOn a time Merlin told King Arthur that he should not endure long, but\nfor all his crafts he should be put in the earth alive. Also he told\nmany things that should befall, and how the king would miss him, so\nthat rather than all his lands he would wish to have him again.\n\"Ah,\" said King Arthur, \"since ye know of this, provide against it, and\nput away by your crafts that misadventure.\"\n\"Nay,\" said Merlin, \"it cannot be done.\" For Merlin, now grown an old\nman in his dotage, had fallen under the spell of a damsel of the court\nnamed Nimue. With her he soon departed from the King, and evermore\nwent with her wheresoever she went. Ofttimes he wished to break away\nfrom her, but he was so held that he could not be out of her presence.\nEver she made him good cheer, till she had learned from him all she\ndesired of his secret craft, and had made him swear that he would never\ndo any enchantment upon her.\n[Illustration: Merlin and Nimue]\nThey went together over the sea unto the land of Benwick, where Ban was\nking, that had helped Arthur against his enemies. Here Merlin saw\nyoung Launcelot, King Ban's son, and he told the queen that this same\nchild should grow to be a man of great honour, so that all Christendom\nshould speak of his prowess. So the queen was comforted of her great\nsorrow that she made for the mortal war that King Claudas waged on her\nlord and on her lands.\nThen afterwards Nimue and Merlin departed into Cornwall, and by the way\nhe showed her many wonders, and wearied her with his desire for her\nlove. She would fain have been delivered of him, for she was afraid of\nhim, almost believing him a devil's son, and yet she could not put him\naway by any means.\nAnd so on a time it happened that Merlin showed to her a wonderful\ncavern in the cliff, closed by an enchanted stone. By her subtle\nworking she soon made Merlin remove the stone and go into the cavern to\nlet her know of the marvels there. Then she so wrought through the\nmagic he had taught her that the stone was placed back again, so that\nhe never came out for all the craft that he could do. And then she\ndeparted and left him there.\nOn a day a certain knight rode to see adventures, and happened to come\nto the rock where Nimue had put Merlin, and there he heard him make\ngreat lamentation. The knight would gladly have helped him, and tried\nto move the great stone; but it was so heavy that a hundred men might\nnot lift it up. When Merlin knew that the knight sought his\ndeliverance, he bade him leave his labour, for all was in vain. He\ncould never be helped but by her that put him there.\nSo Merlin's prophecy of his own end was fulfilled, and he passed from\nthe world of men. Arthur truly missed his old friend and marvelled\nwhat had become of him. Afterwards, when the last great battle came,\nhe would have given everything to have Merlin with him again, but it\ncould not be.\nCHAPTER VIII\nA STAG-HUNT AND WHAT CAME OF IT\nIt befell that Arthur and many of his knights rode on hunting into a\ndeep forest, and King Arthur, King Uriens of Gore that was the husband\nof Arthur's sister Morgan le Fay, and Sir Accolon of Gaul followed a\ngreat hart so fast that within a while they were ten miles from their\nfellowship. At the last they chased so sore that they slew their\nhorses underneath them. Then were they all three on foot, and ever\nthey saw the hart afore them passing weary and hard bestead[1]. \"Let\nus go on foot,\" said King Uriens, \"till we meet with some lodging.\"\nThen were they ware of the hart that lay on a great water bank, and a\ndog biting on his throat, and more other hounds came after. King\nArthur now blew the prize[2] and dight[3] the hart.\nBut the three knights were in sore straits, so far from home, and\nwithout horses, and they began to look about the world. Then Arthur\nsaw afore him in a great lake a little ship, all apparelled with silk\ndown to the water, coming right unto them, and it landed on the sands.\nThey went on board, all three, to see what was in the ship. Soon it\nwas dark night, and there suddenly were about them an hundred torches\nset upon all the sides of the ship boards, and it gave great light.\nTherewithal there came out twelve fair damsels, and they set forth for\nthe knights a supper of all meats that they could think. Then they\nshowed them richly beseen[4] chambers for the night, where the three\nhuntsmen slept marvellously. But when they awoke next morning,\neverything had been changed through the sorcery of Morgan le Fay, that\nwas secretly plotting against her brother, to destroy him. King Uriens\nawoke in his own bed in Camelot, and Arthur found himself in a dark\nprison, with many woeful knights complaining about him, and they soon\ntold him for what cause they were there.\nThe lord of the castle where they were prisoners was the falsest knight\nalive, a treacherous, cowardly man, named Sir Damas. He had a younger\nbrother, Sir Ontzlake, a good knight of prowess, well beloved of all\npeople, from whom he was keeping back unjustly a full fair manor.\nGreat war had been betwixt these brothers. Ontzlake was a far better\nfighter than the cowardly Damas, and yet he could not bring the elder\nto give over the younger brother's inheritance. He offered to fight\nfor it, and wished Sir Damas to find a knight to fight in his stead, if\nhe himself dared not engage. But Sir Damas was so hated that there was\nnever one would fight for him, though he had by force taken all the\nknights of that whole region and brought them to his prison for to make\nthem willing to take up his cause. Many had died there, and the twenty\nthat were yet alive were lean and spent with hunger, but no one of them\nwould stand against Sir Ontzlake.\nAnon there came a damsel unto Arthur and asked him, \"What cheer?\" \"I\ncannot say,\" said he. \"Sir,\" said she, \"if ye will fight for my lord,\nye shall be delivered out of prison, and else ye escape never with\nlife.\"\n\"Now,\" said Arthur, \"that is hard, yet had I liefer to fight with a\nknight than to die in prison,\" and so it was agreed that he should do\nthe battle on this covenant, that he should be delivered and all the\nprisoners. With that all the twenty knights were brought out of the\ndark prison into the hall, and set free, but they all abode to see the\nbattle.\nNow turn we unto Accolon of Gaul, that was with King Arthur and King\nUriens on the stag-hunt and that fell asleep on the magic ship. When\nhe awoke he found himself beside a deep well, within half a foot of its\nedge, in great peril of death.\n\"Heaven save my lord King Arthur and King Uriens,\" said he, \"for these\ndamsels in the ship have betrayed us. They were devils and no women,\nand if I may escape this misadventure, I shall destroy all false\ndamsels that use enchantments, wherever I may find them.\"\nRight then there came a dwarf with a great mouth and a flat nose, and\nsaluted Sir Accolon and said he came from Queen Morgan le Fay. \"She\ngreeteth you well,\" said he, \"and biddeth you be of strong heart, for\nye shall fight to-morn with a knight at the hour of prime, and\ntherefore she hath sent you here Excalibur, Arthur's sword, and the\nscabbard, and she biddeth you as ye love her, that ye do the battle to\nthe uttermost without any mercy, like as ye promised her when ye spake\ntogether in private.\"\nSir Accolon believed he fully understood the message, and he said he\nshould keep his promise now that he had the sword. Just then a knight,\nwho was no other than Sir Ontzlake himself, with a lady and six\nsquires, came up on horseback, saluted Sir Accolon, and begged him to\ncome and rest himself at his manor. So Accolon mounted upon a spare\nhorse and rode to the manor, where he had passing good cheer.\nMeantime Sir Damas sent to his brother, Sir Ontzlake, and bade him make\nready to fight the next day with a good knight who had agreed to do\nbattle for the disputed heritage; and it happened through Morgan le\nFay's trickery that Accolon was lodged with Sir Ontzlake at the very\ntime when this message came. Now Sir Ontzlake was sore troubled at the\nmessage, for he had been wounded in both thighs by a spear a short time\nbefore, and was suffering much. Still, wounded as he was, he would\nhave taken the battle in hand, had not Sir Accolon offered to fight in\nhis stead, because Morgan le Fay had sent Excalibur and the sheath for\nthe battle with the knight on the morrow. Then Sir Ontzlake was\npassing glad, and sent word unto his brother, Sir Damas, that he had a\nknight who would be ready in the field by to-morrow at the hour of\nprime.\nSo it was arranged that Sir Arthur and Sir Accolon, unknown to one\nanother, were to fight over the quarrel of the two brothers.\nPreparations were made accordingly, and all the knights and commons of\nthe country were there to see the encounter. Just as Arthur was ready\nupon horseback, there came a damsel from Morgan le Fay bringing unto\nhim a sword like unto Excalibur, and the scabbard, and said: \"Morgan le\nFay sendeth you here your sword for great love.\" He thanked her, not\nknowing that the sword and scabbard were counterfeit, and brittle and\nfalse.\nThey went eagerly to the battle, and gave many great strokes. Sir\nAccolon had all advantage on his side, for he had the real Excalibur,\nMorgan le Fay having so ordained that King Arthur should have been\nslain that day. King Arthur's sword never bit like Sir Accolon's, and\nalmost every stroke Sir Accolon gave wounded sore, so that it was a\nmarvel that Arthur stood. Almost from the first it seemed to him that\nthe sword in Accolon's hand must be Excalibur, but he was so full of\nknighthood that knightly he endured the pain of the many wounds, and\nheld out as well as he might until his sword brake at the cross and\nfell in the grass among the blood.\nNow he expected to die, but he held up his shield, and lost no ground,\nnor bated any cheer. All men that beheld him said they never saw\nknight fight so well as Arthur did, considering the blood that he bled,\nand they were sorry for him. But Accolon was so bold because of\nExcalibur that he grew passing hardy, and called upon Arthur to yield\nhimself as recreant.\n\"Nay,\" said Sir Arthur, \"I may not so, for I have promised to do the\nbattle to the uttermost by the faith of my body while my life lasteth,\nand therefore I had rather die with honour than live with shame; and if\nit were possible for me to die an hundred times, I had rather die so\noft than yield myself to thee; for, though I lack weapon I shall lack\nno honour, and if thou slay me weaponless that shall be thy shame.\"\nBut Accolon cared not for shame, and would not spare. He gave Arthur\nsuch a stroke that he fell nigh to the earth; yet he pressed upon\nAccolon with his shield, and with the pommel of his sword in his hand\ngave such a blow that Accolon fell back a little.\nNow it chanced that one of the damsels of the court, she that had put\nMerlin under the stone, had come into the field for love of King\nArthur, for she knew how Morgan le Fay had determined that Arthur\nshould be slain; therefore she came to save his life. She saw how full\nof prowess Arthur was, and grieved that so good a knight should be\nslain through false treason. So when Accolon gave another blow, the\nsword Excalibur fell out of his hand to the earth. Arthur lightly\nleaped to it and got it in his hand, and forthwith knew that it was his\nown Excalibur. Then he saw the scabbard hanging by Accolon's side, and\nanon pulling it from him, he threw it off as far as he might throw it.\nTherewith Sir Arthur rushed upon Accolon with all his might and pulled\nhim to the earth. He then snatched off his helmet for the final blow,\nand the fierce battle was at an end.\n\"Slay me ye may well,\" said Accolon, \"if it please you, for ye are the\nbest knight that ever I found, and I see well that God is with you.\"\nBut now Sir Arthur thought he must have seen this knight, and asked,\n\"Of what country art thou, and of what court?\" And when Sir Accolon\ntold him his name, then he remembered him of his sister, Morgan le Fay,\nand of the enchantment of the ship. He made Accolon tell how he came\nby the sword, and then Arthur knew all the plot of his sister and of\nAccolon to have the King slain and herself made queen.\nFor the first time Arthur now let Accolon know against whom he had been\nfighting. The fallen knight cried aloud for mercy, when he learned\nthat he had nearly slain the King, and said to all the knights and men\nthat were then there gathered together, \"O lords, this noble knight\nthat I have fought withal, which I sorely repent of, is the best man of\nprowess, of manhood, and of honour in the world, for it is King Arthur\nhimself, the liege lord of us all, and with mishap and with\nmisadventure have I done this battle with the king and lord in whose\npower I am.\" Then all the people fell down on their knees, and called\nupon King Arthur for mercy, which he forthwith granted.\nThe King was sorely hurt and Accolon's wounds were even worse. Arthur\nmade haste to settle the quarrel of the brothers Sir Damas and Sir\nOntzlake by giving the latter his rights and charging Sir Damas upon\npain of death never to distress knights-errant that ride on their\nadventures, and then was carried off to a near-by abbey, and Sir\nAccolon with him, to have their wounds searched.\nWithin four days Sir Accolon died from loss of blood during the fight,\nbut King Arthur was well recovered. When Accolon was dead the King let\nsend him on a horse-bier with six knights unto Camelot and said, \"Bear\nhim to my sister Morgan le Fay, and say that I send him to her as a\npresent, and tell her that I have my sword Excalibur again and the\nscabbard.\"\nSo they departed with the body.\n[1] Hard bestead: in a bad plight.\n[2] Prize: death note.\n[3] Dight: dressed.\n[4] Beseen: of good appearance.\nCHAPTER IX\nTHE TREACHERY OF MORGAN LE FAY\nThe meanwhile Morgan le Fay thought that King Arthur was slain, and\nthat she might now be queen of the land, with Sir Accolon as King.\nThen came tidings unto her that Accolon was dead and King Arthur had\nhis sword again. When Queen Morgan wist all this she was so sorrowful\nthat near her heart brake, but because she would not it were known,\noutward she kept her countenance, and made no semblance of sorrow. But\nwell she wist, if she remained till her brother Arthur came thither,\nthere should no gold go for her life. Then she went unto Queen\nGuenever, and asked her leave to ride into the country.\n\"Ye may abide,\" said Queen Guenever, \"till your brother the King come\nhome.\"\n\"I may not,\" said Morgan le Fay, \"for I have such hasty tidings that I\nmay not tarry.\"\n\"Well,\" said Guenever, \"ye may depart when ye will.\"\nSo early on the morn, ere it was day, she took her horse and rode all\nthat day and most part of the night, and on the morn by noon she came\nto the abbey of nuns where lay King Arthur. Knowing he was there, she\nasked where he was at that time; and they answered how he had laid him\nin his bed to sleep, for he had had but little rest these three nights.\nThen she alighted off her horse, and thought for to steal away\nExcalibur his sword. So she went straight unto his chamber, and no man\ndurst disobey her commandment. There she found Arthur asleep in his\nbed, and Excalibur in his right hand naked. When she saw that, she was\npassing heavy that she might not come by the sword without awaking him,\nand that she wist well would be her death. Then she took the scabbard,\nand went her way on horseback.\nWhen the King a woke and missed his scabbard, he was wroth, and he\nasked who had been there. They said his sister Queen Morgan had been\nthere, and had put the scabbard under her mantle, and was gone.\n\"Alas,\" said Arthur, \"falsely have ye watched me.\"\n\"Sir,\" said they all, \"we durst not disobey your sister's commandment.\"\n\"Ah,\" said the King, \"let fetch the best horse that may be found, and\nbid Sir Ontzlake arm him in all haste, and take another good horse and\nride with me.\"\nSo anon the King and Ontzlake were well armed, and rode after this\nlady; and so they came by a cross, and asked a cowherd if there came\nany lady late riding that way.\n\"Sir,\" said the poor man, \"right late came a lady riding with forty\nhorses, and to yonder forest she rode.\"\nThen they spurred their horses and followed fast. Within a while\nArthur had a sight of Morgan le Fay, and he chased as fast as he might.\nWhen she espied him following her, she rode a greater pace through the\nforest till she came to a plain. She saw she might not escape,\nwherefore she rode unto a lake thereby, and said, \"Whatsoever becometh\nof me, my brother shall not have this scabbard.\" And then she let\nthrow the scabbard in the deepest of the water, where it sank anon, for\nit was heavy of gold and precious stones.\nThereupon Queen Morgan rode into a valley where many great stones were,\nand when she saw that she must be overtaken, she shaped herself, horse\nand man, by enchantment, unto great marble stones. Anon came Sir\nArthur and Sir Ontzlake, but they might not know the lady from her men,\nnor one knight from another.\n\"Ah,\" said the King, \"here may ye see the vengeance of God, and now I\nam sorry that this misadventure is befallen.\"\nAnd then he looked for the scabbard, but it could not be found, so he\nreturned to the abbey where he came from. When Arthur was gone, Queen\nMorgan turned all into the likeness as she and they were before, and\nsaid, \"Sirs, now may we go where we will.\"\nSo she departed into the country of Gore, and there was she richly\nreceived, and made her castles and towns passing strong, for always she\nfeared much King Arthur.\nWhen the King had well rested him at the abbey, he rode unto Camelot,\nand found his Queen and his barons right glad of his coming. And when\nthey heard of his strange adventures as is afore rehearsed, they all\nhad marvel of the falsehood of Morgan le Fay, and many knights wished\nher burned because of her wicked enchantments. \"Well,\" said the King,\n\"I shall so be avenged on her, if I live, that all Christendom shall\nspeak of it.\"\nOn the morn there came a damsel from Morgan to the King, and she\nbrought with her the richest mantle that ever was seen in that court,\nfor it was set as full of precious stones as one might stand by\nanother, and there were the richest stones that ever the King saw. And\nthe damsel said, \"Your sister sendeth you this mantle, and desireth\nthat ye should take this gift of her, and in what thing she hath\noffended you, she will amend it at your own pleasure.\"\nWhen the King beheld this mantle it pleased him much, but he said\nlittle. With that came one of the Damsels of the Lake unto the King\nand said, \"Sir, I must speak with you in private.\"\n\"Say on,\" said the King, \"what ye will.\"\n\"Sir,\" said the damsel, \"put not on you this mantle till ye have seen\nmore, and in no wise let it come on you or any knight of yours, till ye\ncommand the bringer thereof to put it upon her.\"\n\"Well,\" said King Arthur, \"it shall be done as ye counsel me.\" And\nthen he said unto the damsel that came from his sister, \"Damsel, this\nmantle that ye have brought me I will see upon you.\"\n\"Sir,\" said she, \"it will not beseem me to wear a king's garment.\"\n\"By my head,\" said Arthur, \"ye shall wear it ere it come on my back, or\nany man's that here is.\"\nAnd so the King made it to be put upon her, and forthwithal she fell\ndown dead, and nevermore spake word after, but burned to coals.\nThen was the King wonderfully wroth, more than he was beforehand, and\nsaid unto King Uriens, \"My sister, your wife, is alway about to betray\nme, and well I wot either ye or your son Sir Uwaine is of counsel with\nher to have me destroyed; but as for you,\" said the King to King\nUriens, \"I deem not greatly that ye be of her counsel, for she plotted\nwith Accolon to destroy you as well as me. Therefore I hold you\nexcused; but as for your son, Sir Uwaine, I hold him suspected, and\ntherefore I charge you put him out of my court.\"\nSo Sir Uwaine was discharged. And when Sir Gawaine wist that, he made\nhimself ready to go with his cousin. So they two departed, and rode\ninto a great forest, and came to an abbey of monks, where they were\nwell lodged. But when the King wist that Sir Gawaine was departed from\nthe court, there was made great sorrow among all the estates.\n\"Now,\" said Gaheris, Gawaine's brother, \"we have lost two good knights\nfor the sake of one.\"\nCHAPTER X\nSIR LAUNCELOT OF THE LAKE\nWhen King Arthur, after long wars, rested and held a royal feast with\nhis allies and noble knights of the Round Table, there came into his\nhall, he sitting on his throne royal, twelve ambassadors from Rome, and\nsaid to him: \"The high and mighty emperor Lucius sendeth to the king of\nBritain greeting, commanding thee to acknowledge him for thy lord and\nto send the tribute due from this realm unto the empire according to\nthe statutes and decrees made by the noble and worthy Julius Caesar,\nconqueror of this realm and first emperor of Rome. And if thou refuse\nhis demand and commandment, know thou for certain that he shall make\nstrong war against thee, thy realms and lands, and shall chastise thee\nand thy subjects, so that it shall be warning perpetual unto all kings\nand princes not to deny their tribute unto the noble empire which\ndominateth the universal world.\"\nSome of the young knights hearing this message would have run on the\nambassadors to slay them, saying that it was a rebuke unto all the\nknights there present to suffer them to say so to the King. But King\nArthur commanded that none should do them any harm, and anon let call\nall his lords and knights of the Round Table to council upon the\nmatter. And all agreed to make sharp war on the Romans, and to aid\nafter their power.\nSo the messengers were allowed to depart, and they took ship at\nSandwich and passed forth by Flanders, Almaine, the mountains and all\nItaly until they came unto Rome. There they said to Lucius, \"Certainly\nhe is a lord to be feared, for his estate is the royalest that ever we\nsaw, and in his person he is the most manly man that liveth, and is\nlikely to conquer all the world, for unto his courage it is too little;\nwherefore we advise you to keep well your marches and straits[1] in the\nmountains.\"\nThen Lucius made ready a great host and marched into Gaul, and Arthur\nmet him there with his army. The old chronicles tell of the great\nbattles that were fought and the brave deeds of knights and lords, how\nArthur himself with Excalibur cleft the head of Lucius, and at length\npassed over the mountains into Lombardy and Tuscany, and so came into\nRome. On a day appointed, as the romance telleth, he was crowned\nemperor by the Pope's hand with all the royalty that could be made.\nAfter he had established all his lands from Rome unto France, and had\ngiven lands and realms unto his servants and knights, to each after his\ndesert in such wise that none complained, rich nor poor, all his lords\nand all the great men of estate assembled before him and said: \"Blessed\nbe God, your war is finished and your conquest achieved, insomuch that\nwe know none so great nor mighty that dare make war against you;\nwherefore we beseech you to return homeward and give us licence to go\nhome to our wives, from whom we have been long, and to rest us, for\nyour journey is finished with honour.\"\nSo they all came over sea, and landed at Sandwich, where Queen Guenever\ncame and met the King. And he was nobly received of all the commons in\nevery city and borough, and great gifts were presented to him at his\nhome-coming, to welcome him.\nOf all the knights that, when Arthur came into England, had increased\nin honour, Sir Launcelot of the Lake in especial excelled in deeds of\narms both for life and death. His parents, King Ban of Benwick and his\nfair queen, Elaine, had first named him Galahad, and, as has already\nbeen said, Merlin, before he disappeared under the stone, had foretold\nthat within twenty years he should be known over the whole world as a\ngreat and worthy knight. It is no marvel, therefore, that Launcelot is\nthe first knight that the French book maketh mention of after King\nArthur came from Rome. He passed with Arthur into England, where he\nwas received gladly and was made a knight of the Round Table. Queen\nGuenever had him in great favour above all other knights, and in return\nhe was loyal to her above all other ladies and damsels all his life,\nand for love of her he did many deeds of arms, and saved her from the\nfire through his noble chivalry. Therefore jealous people spoke evil\nof Sir Launcelot and the Queen, because they were of less prowess and\nhonour than he, and thereby great mischief arose in Arthur's court.\nFrom this came Arthur's overthrow in the end, and the downfall of his\nnoble realm.\nBut for long years Launcelot was the glory of knighthood, and he vied\nwith King Arthur himself in deeds of prowess and of chivalrous courtesy\nin the tournament and on adventure.\n[1] Strait: narrow pass.\nCHAPTER XI\nA NIGHT-TIME ADVENTURE OF SIR LAUNCELOT\nIn fulfilment of his oath as a knight of the Round Table Sir Launcelot\nrode into many strange and wild countries and through many waters and\nvalleys. He slew Sir Turquine, who watched to destroy knights, and he\nclove the head of another false traitor who attended to destroy and\ndistress ladies, damsels, and gentlewomen. Other wrongs besides these\nhe righted, and bravely withstood many a struggle.\nNow on a day it chanced that he passed a deep forest, where, as often\nbefore, he found strait lodging. But he was brave and strong, and\nfeared no hardship provided he did nothing contrary to his honour as a\nworthy knight. As he was riding over a long bridge there started upon\nhim suddenly a passing foul churl, who struck his horse upon the nose\nand asked Sir Launcelot why he rode over that bridge without licence.\n\"Why should I not ride this way?\" said Sir Launcelot; \"it is the way I\nchoose to ride.\"\n\"Thou shall not choose,\" said the churl, and began to beat him with his\ngreat club shod with iron.\nSir Launcelot drew his sword, and made short work of this rough porter.\nThen he rode right on to the end of the bridge, through the fair\nvillage, where all the people in vain gave him warning, and on straight\ninto the green courtyard of the castle, which was Tintagil, in Cornwall.\nAnon there came upon him two great giants, with horrible clubs in their\nhands. With shield and sword he soon laid on the earth one of these\ngiants. The other ran away for fear of the horrible strokes, and Sir\nLauncelot entered the hall. Here he set free three-score gentlewomen,\nwho for seven years had been prisoners of the two giants, working all\nmanner of silk works for their food.\n\"Show me such cheer as ye have,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"and what treasure\nthere is in this castle I give you for a reward for your grievance.\"\nThen soon he mounted his horse again, and rode away upon further\nadventure.\nOne night he came to the courtyard of an old gentleman, who lodged him\nwith a good will, and there he had good cheer for himself and his\nhorse. When time was his host brought him into a fair garret over the\ngate to his bed. There Sir Launcelot unarmed him, set his armour\nbeside him, and went to bed, and anon fell asleep. Soon afterward\nthere came one on horseback, and knocked at the gate in great haste.\nWhen Sir Launcelot heard this, he arose up and looked out at the\nwindow, and saw by the moonlight three knights come after that one man;\nall three lashed on him at once with swords, and that one knight turned\non them knightly again and defended himself.\n\"Truly,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"yonder one knight shall I help, for it\nwere shame for me to see three knights on one, and if he be slain I am\npartner in his death.\"\nTherewith he took his armour and let himself down from the window by a\nsheet to the four knights.\n\"Turn you knights unto me,\" cried Sir Launcelot aloud, \"and leave your\nfighting with that knight.\"\nAnd then they all three left Sir Kay, for it was he who was so hard\nbestead, and turned unto Sir Launcelot. And there began great battle,\nfor they alighted, all three, and struck many great strokes at Sir\nLauncelot, and assailed him on every side. Sir Kay would have helped\nhim, but Sir Launcelot suffered him not, and anon within six strokes he\nhad struck all three to the earth. Sir Launcelot made them yield\nthemselves to Sir Kay and promise to go next Whitsunday to the court as\nprisoners of Queen Guenever. So they were suffered to depart, and Sir\nLauncelot knocked at the gate with the pommel of his sword. The host\ncame, and they entered, Sir Kay and he. \"Sir,\" said the host, \"I\nthought you were in your bed.\" \"So I was,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"but I\narose and leaped out at my window to help an old fellow of mine.\"\nWhen they came nigh the light, Sir Kay knew well that it was Sir\nLauncelot, and therewith he kneeled down and thanked him for all his\nkindness that he had holpen him from death.\n\"Sir,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"I have done nothing but that I ought to do,\nand ye are welcome, and here shall ye repose you and take your rest.\"\nSo when Sir Kay was unarmed he asked for meat; there was meat fetched\nhim, and he ate strongly. Then they went to their beds, and Sir\nLauncelot and Sir Kay were lodged together in one bed. On the morn Sir\nLauncelot arose early, and left Sir Kay sleeping. He put on Sir Kay's\narmour and took his shield, and so went to the stable. He here got Sir\nKay's horse, took leave of his host, and so departed.\nThen soon afterward Sir Kay arose. He missed Sir Launcelot, and then\nhe espied that his armour and his horse had been taken. \"Now by my\nfaith,\" said he, \"I know well that he will grieve some of the court of\nKing Arthur, for my armour and horse will beguile all knights; they\nwill believe it is I, and will be bold to him. And because I have his\narmour and shield I am sure I shall ride in peace.\" Then soon\nafterward Sir Kay thanked his host and departed.\nSo Sir Launcelot rode into a deep forest, and there in a dell he saw\nfour knights standing under an oak, and they were of Arthur's court.\nAnon as they espied Sir Launcelot they thought by his arms it was Sir\nKay.\n\"Now by my faith,\" said Sir Sagramour, one of the four knights, \"I will\nprove Sir Kay's might\"; so he got his spear in his hand, and came\ntoward Sir Launcelot. Therewith Sir Launcelot was ware, and knew him\nwell; and he smote Sir Sagramour so sore that horse and man fell both\nto the earth.\n\"Lo, my fellows,\" said Sir Ector, another of the four, \"yonder ye may\nsee what a buffet he hath; that knight is much bigger than ever was Sir\nKay. Now shall ye see what I may do to him.\"\nSo Sir Ector got his spear in his hand and galloped toward Sir\nLauncelot, and Sir Launcelot smote him through shield and shoulder so\nthat horse and man went to the earth, and ever his spear held.\n\"By my faith,\" said Sir Uwaine, \"yonder is a strong knight, and I am\nsure he hath slain Sir Kay; and I see by his great strength it will be\nhard to match him.\"\nTherewithal Sir Uwaine gat his spear in his hand and rode toward Sir\nLauncelot. Sir Launcelot knew him well, and so he met him on the\nplain, and gave him such a buffet that he was stunned, and long he wist\nnot where he was.\n\"Now see I well,\" said Sir Gawaine, the last of the four knights, \"I\nmust encounter with that knight.\"\nThen he dressed his shield and gat a good spear in his hand, and then\nthey let run their horses with all their mights, and either knight\nsmote other in midst of the shield. But Sir Gawaine's spear brake, and\nSir Launcelot charged so sore upon him that his horse reversed\nup-so-down.\nMuch sorrow had Sir Gawaine to get clear of his horse, and so Sir\nLauncelot passed on a pace, and smiled, and said, \"God give him joy\nthat made this spear, for there came never a better in my hand.\"\nThen the four knights went each one to other and comforted each other.\n\"What say ye to this deed?\" said Sir Gawaine. \"He is a man of great\nmight, for that one spear hath felled us four. I dare lay my head it\nis Sir Launcelot; I know it by his riding.\"\nCHAPTER XII\nHOW SIR LAUNCELOT CAME INTO THE CHAPEL PERILOUS\nOn a day as Sir Launcelot rode a great while in a deep forest, he was\nware of an old manor beyond a bridge. And he passed over the bridge,\nthat was old and feeble, and came into a great hall, where he saw lie a\ndead knight, that was a seemly man. And therewithal came out a lady\nweeping and wringing her hands, and she said: \"Oh, knight, too much\nsorrow hast thou brought me.\"\n\"Why say ye so?\" said Sir Launcelot; \"I did never this knight any harm;\ntherefore, fair lady, be not displeased with me, for I am full sore\naggrieved at your grievance.\"\n\"Truly sir,\" she said, \"I know it is not ye that have slain my husband,\nfor he that did that deed is sore wounded, and he is never likely to\nrecover; that I assure you.\"\n\"What was your husband's name?\" asked Sir Launcelot.\n\"Sir,\" said she, \"his name was Sir Gilbert, one of the best knights of\nthe world, and he that hath slain him, I know not his name.\"\n\"God send you better comfort,\" said Sir Launcelot, and so he departed\nand went into the forest again, and there he met with a damsel who knew\nhim well, and said aloud, \"Well are ye come, my lord; and now I require\nthee on thy knighthood help my brother that is sore wounded, and never\nceaseth bleeding, for this day fought he with Sir Gilbert and slew him\nin plain battle. My brother was sore wounded, and a sorceress that\ndwelleth in a castle hard by told me this day that my brother's wounds\nshould never be whole till I could find a knight that would go into the\nChapel Perilous where he should find a sword and a bloody cloth that\nthe wounded knight was wrapped in. A piece of that cloth and the sword\nshould heal my brother's wounds, if his wounds were searched with the\nsword and the cloth.\"\n\"This is a marvellous thing,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"but what is your\nbrother's name?\"\n\"Sir,\" said she, \"his name is Sir Meliot.\"\n\"That me repenteth,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"for he is a fellow of the\nTable Round, and to help him I will do all in my power.\"\n\"Then, sir,\" said she, \"follow this highway, and it will bring you into\nthe Chapel Perilous, and here I shall wait till God send you again;\nexcept you I know no knight living that may achieve that adventure.\"\nSo Launcelot departed, and when he came unto the Chapel Perilous, he\nalighted and tied his horse to the little gate of the churchyard. And\nsoon he saw on the front of the chapel many fair rich shields turned\nup-so-down, and many of these shields he had seen borne by knights that\nhe had known aforetime. Then he saw standing there by him thirty great\nknights, taller by a yard than any man that ever he had seen, all clad\nin black armour, ready with their shields, and their swords drawn.\nThey all grinned and gnashed at Sir Launcelot, and when he saw their\ncountenances, he put his shield afore him, and took his sword in his\nhand ready unto battle. He started to go right past the giants, and\nthen they scattered on every side and gave him the way. Therewith he\nwaxed all bold and entered into the chapel, where he saw no light but a\ndim lamp burning, and soon became aware of a corpse covered with a\ncloth of silk. Sir Launcelot stooped down and cut off a piece of that\ncloth, whereupon the earth under him seemed to quake a little, and at\nthis he feared. Then he saw a fair sword lying by the dead knight.\nThis he gat into his hand and hied out of the chapel.\nAs soon as ever he was in the chapel yard all the giants spake to him\nwith a grimly voice, and said: \"Knight, Sir Launcelot, lay that sword\nfrom thee, or else thou shalt die.\"\n\"Whether I live or die,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"no loud words will get it\nagain; therefore fight for it if ye will.\"\nThen he immediately passed right through their midst, and beyond the\nchapel yard there met him a fair damsel, who said, \"Sir Launcelot,\nleave that sword behind thee, or thou wilt die for it.\"\n\"I leave it not,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"for any entreaties.\"\n\"It is well,\" said she. \"If thou didst leave that sword thou shouldst\nnever see Queen Guenever again. Now, gentle knight, I request one\nthing of thee. Kiss me but once.\"\n\"Nay,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"God forbid that I should do that.\"\n\"It is well, sir,\" said she; \"if thou hadst kissed me thy life days had\nbeen done. But now, alas, I have lost all my labour, for I ordained\nthis chapel to win thee. Once I had Sir Gawaine well nigh within my\npower, but he fought with that knight that lieth there dead in yonder\nchapel, Sir Gilbert, and smote off his left hand and so escaped. Sir\nLauncelot, I have loved thee these seven years, but now I know no woman\nmay have thy love but Queen Guenever.\"\n\"Ye say well,\" said Sir Launcelot. \"God preserve me from your subtile\ncrafts.\"\nThereupon he took his horse and so departed from her, and soon met the\ndamsel, Sir Meliot's sister. Anon she led him to the castle where Sir\nMeliot lay, pale as the earth from bleeding. Sir Launcelot leaped unto\nhim and touched his wounds with Sir Gilbert's sword, and then wiped his\nwounds with a part of the cloth that Sir Gilbert was wrapped in, and\nanon he was as whole a man as ever he had been in all his life. And\nthen there was great joy between them. They made Sir Launcelot all the\ncheer that they might, and on the morn he took his leave of Sir Meliot\nand his sister, and rode away.\nCHAPTER XIII\nTHE KNIGHT, THE LADY, AND THE FALCON\nAnd Sir Launcelot by fortune came to a fair castle, and as he passed by\nhe was ware of a falcon that came flying over his head toward a high\nelm. As the bird flew into the tree to take her perch, the long lines\nabout her feet caught on a bough, and when she would take flight again\nshe hung fast by the legs. Sir Launcelot saw how the fair falcon hung\nthere, and he was sorry for her.\nMeanwhile came a lady out of the castle and cried aloud, \"O Launcelot,\nLauncelot, as thou art the flower of all knights, help me to get my\nhawk. I was holding my hawk and she slipped from me, and if my lord my\nhusband knows that she is lost he will slay me.\"\n\"What is your lord's name?\" said Sir Launcelot.\n\"Sir,\" said the lady, \"his name is Sir Phelot, a knight of Northgalis.\"\n\"Well, fair lady,\" said Launcelot, \"since ye know my name, and request\nme as a courteous knight to help you, I will do what I may to get your\nhawk. And yet truly I am an ill climber, and the tree is passing high,\nwith few boughs to cling to.\"\nThereupon Sir Launcelot alighted, and tied his horse to the elm. Then\nthe lady helped him to unarm, and with might and force he climbed up to\nthe falcon. He tied the lines to a great rotten branch, brake it off,\nand threw it and the hawk down. Anon the lady gat the hawk in her\nhand, and thereupon came Sir Phelot suddenly out of the grove, all\narmed and with his naked sword in his hand. He called up to Sir\nLauncelot and said, \"O knight, now have I found thee as I would\"; and\nhe stood at the foot of the tree to slay him.\n\"Ah lady,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"why have ye betrayed me?\"\n\"She hath done,\" said Sir Phelot, \"but as I commanded her; there is no\nhelp for it; thine hour is come, and thou must die.\"\n\"It were shame unto thee,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"for thee, an armed\nknight, to slay an unarmed man by treason.\"\n\"Thou gettest no other grace,\" said Sir Phelot; \"therefore help thyself\nif thou canst.\"\n\"Alas,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"that ever knight should die weaponless.\"\nThen he looked above and below him, and saw a big leafless bough. This\nhe brake off; then he climbed down with it in his hand, and, observing\nhow his horse stood, he suddenly leaped down to the ground on the\nfarther side of the horse from the knight.\nThen Sir Phelot lashed at him eagerly, thinking to slay him. But Sir\nLauncelot put away the stroke with the branch, and then with it gave\nSir Phelot such a blow on one side of the head that he fell down in a\nswoon to the ground. Then Sir Launcelot took his sword out of his hand\nand struck his head from his body.\n\"Alas,\" cried the lady, \"why hast thou slain my husband?\"\n\"I am not the cause,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"for with falsehood ye would\nhave slain me by treason, and now it is fallen on you both.\"\nThereupon Sir Launcelot gat all his armour as well as he might, and put\nit on for fear of further attack, since the knight's castle was so\nnear. As soon as he might he took his horse, and, thanking God that he\nhad escaped that adventure, he went on his adventures over many wild\nways, through marsh and valley and forest.\nAt Pentecost he returned home, and the King and all the court were\npassing glad of his coming. And ever now and now came all the knights\nback, those that had encountered with Sir Launcelot, those that he had\nset free from prison, and all those that knew of his great deeds of\narms. And they all bare record of Sir Launcelot's prowess, so at that\ntime he had the greatest name of any knight of the world, and most he\nwas honoured of high and low.\nCHAPTER XIV\nHOW A KITCHEN-PAGE CAME TO HONOUR\nArthur was holding the high feast of Pentecost at a city and castle\ncalled in those days Kink-Kenadon, upon the sands nigh Wales, and he\nsat at meat with all the knights of the Round Table. Then came into\nthe hall two men well beseen and richly, and upon their shoulders there\nleaned the goodliest young man and the fairest that ever any of the\nknights had seen. He was higher than the other two by a foot and a\nhalf, broad in the shoulders, well visaged, and the fairest and largest\nhanded that ever man saw; but he acted as though he might not walk nor\nsupport himself unless he leaned upon their shoulders. They went with\nhim right unto the high dais without saying of any words.\nThen this much young man pulled himself away, and easily stretched up\nstraight, saying: \"King Arthur, God you bless and all your fair\nfellowship of the Round Table. For this cause I am come hither, to\npray you to give me three gifts. They shall not be so unreasonable but\nthat ye may honourably grant them me, and to you no great hurt nor\nloss. The first I will ask now, and the other two gifts I will ask\nthis day twelvemonth wheresoever ye hold your high feast.\"\n\"Now ask,\" said Arthur, \"and ye shall have your asking.\"\n\"Now, sir, this is my petition for this feast, that you will give me\nmeat and drink sufficiently for this twelve-month, and at that day I\nwill ask mine other two gifts.\"\n\"This is but a simple asking,\" said the King; \"ye shall have meat and\ndrink enough; I never refuse that to any, neither my friend nor my foe.\nBut what is your name I would know?\"\n\"I cannot tell you,\" said he.\nThe King marvelled at this answer, but took him to Sir Kay, the\nsteward, and charged him that he should give the youth of all manner of\nmeats and drinks of the best, and also that he should have all manner\nof finding as though he were a lord's son.\n\"That need not be,\" said Sir Kay, \"to do such cost upon him; for I dare\nundertake he is a villain born, and never will make a man, for had he\ncome of gentlemen he would have asked of you horse and armour; but such\nas he is, so he asketh. And since he hath no name, I shall give him\nthe name Beaumains, that is Fair-hands, and into the kitchen I shall\nbring him, and there he shall have rich broth every day, so that he\nshall be as fat by the twelvemonth's end as a pork hog.\"\nSo the two men departed, and left him to Sir Kay, who scorned him and\nmocked him. Thereat was Sir Gawaine wroth, and especially Sir\nLauncelot bade Sir Kay leave off his mocking, \"for,\" said he, \"I dare\nwager he shall prove a man of great honour.\"\n\"It may not be by any reason,\" said Sir Kay, \"for as he is, so hath he\nasked.\"\nSo Sir Kay ordered that a place be made for him, and Fair-hands went to\nthe hall door, and sat down among boys and lads, and there he ate\nsadly. After meat Sir Launcelot bade him come to his chamber, where he\nshould have meat and drink enough, and so did Sir Gawaine; but he\nrefused them all; he would do none other but as Sir Kay commanded him.\nAs touching Sir Gawaine, he had reason to proffer him lodging, meat,\nand drink, for he was nearer kin to him than he knew. But what Sir\nLauncelot did was of his great gentleness and courtesy.\nThus Fair-hands was put into the kitchen, and lay nightly as the boys\nof the kitchen did. And so he endured all that twelvemonth, and never\ndispleased man nor child, but always he was meek and mild. But ever\nwhen there was any jousting of knights, that would he see if he could.\nAnd where were any masteries done, thereat would he be, and there might\nnone cast bar nor stone to him by two yards. Then would Sir Kay say,\n\"How like you my boy of the kitchen?\"\nSo it passed on till the least of Whitsuntide, which at that time the\nKing held at Carlion in the most royal wise that might be, as he did\nevery year. As he again sat at meat, there came a damsel into the hall\nand saluted the King, and prayed him for succour. \"For whom?\" said the\nKing; \"what is the adventure?\"\n\"Sir,\" she said, \"I have a lady of great honour and renown, and she is\nbesieged by a tyrant so that she may not out of her castle. And\nbecause your knights are called the noblest of the world, I come to you\nto pray you for succour.\"\n\"What is the name of your lady? and where dwelleth she? and who is he,\nand what is his name, that hath besieged her?\"\n\"Sir King,\" she said, \"as for my lady's name, that shall not ye know\nfrom me at this time, but I let you know she is a lady of great honour\nand of great lands. And as for the tyrant that besiegeth and\ndestroyeth her lands, he is called the Red Knight of the Red Lawns.\"\n\"I know him not,\" said the King.\n\"Sir,\" said Sir Gawaine, \"I know him well, for he is one of the most\ndangerous knights of the world. Men say that he hath seven men's\nstrength, and from him I escaped once full hard with my life.\"\n\"Fair damsel,\" said the King, \"there be knights here would do their\nbest to rescue your lady, but because ye will not tell her name, nor\nwhere she dwelleth, therefore none of my knights that be here now shall\ngo with you by my will.\"\n\"Then must I speak further,\" said the damsel.\nWith these words Fair-hands came before the King, while the damsel was\nthere, and thus he said: \"Sir King, God reward you, I have been these\ntwelve months in your kitchen, and have had my full sustenance, and now\nI will ask my two gifts that be behind.\"\n\"Ask upon my peril,\" said the King.\n\"Sir, these shall be my two gifts. First, that ye will grant me this\nadventure of the damsel, and second, that ye shall bid Launcelot of the\nLake to make me knight, for of him I will be made knight, and else of\nnone. I pray you let him ride after me, and make me knight when I\nrequest him.\"\n\"All this shall be done,\" said the King.\n\"Fie on thee,\" said the damsel, \"shall I have none but one that is your\nkitchen-page?\" Then was she wroth, and took her horse and departed.\nThereupon there came one to Fair-hands, and told him that his horse and\narmour was come for him, with all things that he needed in the richest\nmanner. Thereat all the court had much marvel from whence came all\nthat gear. When he was armed and came into the hall to take leave of\nKing Arthur and Sir Gawaine and Sir Launcelot, there were but few so\ngoodly knights as he was. He prayed Sir Launcelot that he would hie\nafter him, and so departed and rode after the damsel.\nMany people followed after Fair-hands to behold how well he was horsed\nand trapped in cloth of gold, but he had neither shield nor spear.\nThen Sir Kay said all openly in the hall, \"I will ride after my boy of\nthe kitchen, to see whether he will know me for his better.\"\nSir Launcelot and Sir Gawaine counselled him to abide at home;\nnevertheless he made ready and took his horse and his spear and rode\noff. Just as Fair-hands overtook the damsel, Sir Kay came up, and\nsaid, \"Fair-hands, what sir, know ye not me?\"\nThen he turned his horse, and knew it was Sir Kay, that had done him\nall the despite, as we have heard afore. \"Yea,\" said Fair-hands, \"I\nknow you for an ungentle knight of the court and therefore beware of\nme.\"\nTherewith Sir Kay put his spear in its rest, and ran straight upon him,\nand Fair-hands came on just as fast with his sword in his hand. And so\nhe put away his spear with his sword, and with a foin[1] thrust him\nthrough the side, so that Sir Kay fell down as if he were dead. Then\nFair-hands alighted down and took Sir Kay's shield and his spear, had\nhis dwarf mount upon Sir Kay's horse, and started upon his own horse\nand rode his way. All this Sir Launcelot saw, and so did the damsel.\nBy this time Sir Launcelot had come up, and Fair-hands offered to joust\nwith him. So they rushed together like boars, and for upwards of an\nhour they had a hard fight, wherein Sir Launcelot had so much ado with\nFair-hands that he feared himself to be shamed. At length he said,\n\"Fair-hands, fight not so sore; your quarrel and mine is not so great\nbut we may leave off.\"\n\"That is truth,\" said Fair-hands, \"but it doth me good to feel your\nmight, and yet, my lord, I showed not my uttermost.\"\n\"Well,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"I promise you I had as much to do as I\nmight to save myself from you unashamed; therefore ye need have no fear\nof any earthly knight.\"\n\"Hope ye then,\" said Fair-hands, \"that I may anywhere stand as a proved\nknight?\"\n\"Yea,\" said Launcelot, \"do as ye have done, and I shall be your\nwarrant.\"\n\"Then I pray you give me the order of knighthood,\" said Fair-hands.\n\"Then must ye tell me your name,\" said Launcelot, \"and of what kin ye\nbe born.\"\n\"Sir, if ye will not make me known, I will,\" said Fair-hands.\n\"That I promise you by the faith of my body, until it be openly known,\"\nsaid Sir Launcelot.\n\"Then, sir,\" he said, \"my name is Gareth; I am own brother unto Sir\nGawaine.\"\n\"Ah! sir,\" said Launcelot, \"I am more glad of you than I was, for ever\nme thought ye should be of great blood, and that ye came not to the\ncourt either for meat or for drink.\"\nThen Sir Launcelot gave him the order of knighthood, and Sir Gareth\nwent his way.\nSir Launcelot now came to Sir Kay and had him carried home upon his\nshield. He was with difficulty healed of his wounds, and all men\nscorned him. In especial Sir Gawaine and Sir Launcelot said it was not\nfor Sir Kay to rebuke the young man, for full little he knew of what\nbirth he was and for what cause he came to this court.\n[1] Foin: reach forth.\nCHAPTER XV\nHOW SIR GARETH FOUGHT FOR THE LADY OF CASTLE PERILOUS\nAfter the damsel rode Fair-hands, now well provided with shield and\nspear, and known to Sir Launcelot, at least, as Sir Gareth and nephew\nto King Arthur. When he had overtaken the damsel, anon she said: \"What\ndost thou here? Thou smellest all of the kitchen; thy clothes be foul\nwith the grease and tallow that thou gainedst in King Arthur's kitchen;\ntherefore turn again, foul kitchen-page. I know thee well, for Sir Kay\nnamed thee Fair-hands. What art thou but a lubber and a turner of\nspits, and a ladle washer?\"\n\"Damsel,\" said Fair-hands, \"say to me what ye will, I will not go from\nyou, for I have undertaken, in King Arthur's presence, to achieve your\nadventure, and so shall I finish it, or I shall die therefore.\"\nThus as they rode along in the wood, there came a man flying all that\never he might. \"Whither wilt thou?\" said Fair-hands.\n\"O lord,\" he said, \"help me, for yonder in a dell are six thieves that\nhave taken my lord and bound him, and I am afeard lest they will slay\nhim.\"\nSo Fair-hands rode with the man until they came to where the knight lay\nbound, and the thieves hard by. Fair-hands struck one unto the death,\nand then another, and at the third stroke he slew the third thief; and\nthen the other three fled. He rode after them and overtook them, and\nthen those three thieves turned again and assailed Fair-hands hard, but\nat the last he slew them also, and returned and unbound the knight.\nThe knight thanked him, and prayed him to ride with him to his castle\nthere a little beside, and he should honourably reward him for his good\ndeeds.\n\"Sir,\" said Fair-hands, \"I will no reward have except as God reward me.\nAnd also I must follow this damsel.\"\nWhen he came nigh her, she bade him ride from her, \"for,\" said she,\n\"thou smellest all of the kitchen; thinkest thou that I have joy of\nthee? All this deed thou hast done is but mishapped thee, but thou\nshalt see a sight that shall make thee turn again, and that lightly.\"\nThen the same knight who was rescued from the thieves rode after that\ndamsel, and prayed her to lodge with him that night. And because it\nwas near night the damsel rode with him to the castle, and there they\nhad great cheer. At supper the knight set Sir Fair-hands afore the\ndamsel.\n\"Fie, fie,\" said she, \"sir knight, ye are uncourteous to set a\nkitchen-page afore me; him beseemeth better to stick a swine than to\nsit afore a damsel of high parentage.\"\nThen the knight was ashamed at her words, and took Fair-hands up and\nset him at a sideboard, and seated himself afore him. So all that\nnight they had good cheer and merry rest.\nOn the morn the damsel and Fair-hands thanked the knight and took their\nleave, and rode on their way until they came to a great forest.\nTherein was a great river with but one passage, and there were ready\ntwo knights on the farther side, to prevent their crossing. Fair-hands\nwould not have turned back had there been six more, and he rushed into\nthe water. One of the two encountered with him in the midst of the\nstream, and both spears were broken. Then they drew their swords and\nsmote eagerly at one another. At the last Sir Fair-hands smote the\nother upon the helm so that he fell down stunned in the water, and\nthere was he drowned. Then Sir Fair-hands spurred his horse upon the\nland, where the other fell upon him, and they fought long together. At\nthe last Sir Fair-hands clove his helm and his head, and so rode unto\nthe damsel and bade her ride forth on her way.\n\"Alas,\" she said, \"that ever a kitchen-page should have that fortune to\ndestroy two such doughty knights. Thou thinkest thou hast done\ndoughtily, but that is not so, for the first knight's horse stumbled,\nand so he was drowned in the water; it was never by thy force or by thy\nmight. And as for the second knight, by mishap thou camest behind him\nand slewest him.\"\n\"Damsel,\" said Fair-hands, \"ye may say what ye will, but whomsoever I\nhave ado with I trust to God to serve him ere he depart, and therefore\nI reck not what ye say, provided I may win your lady.\"\n\"Fie, fie, foul kitchen-knave, thou shalt see knights that shall abate\nthy boast. I see all that ever thou doest is but by misadventure, and\nnot by prowess of thy hands.\"\n\"Fair damsel,\" said he, \"give me goodly language, and then my care is\npast. Ye may say what ye will; what knights soever I shall meet, I\nfear them not, and wheresoever ye go I will follow you.\"\nSo they rode on till even-song time, and ever she chid him and would\nnot cease. And then they came to a black lawn, and there was a black\nhawthorn, and thereon hung a black banner, and on the other side there\nhung a black shield, and by it stood a black spear great and long, and\na great black horse covered with silk, and a black stone fast by,\nwhereon sat a knight all armed in black harness, and his name was the\nKnight of the Black Lawns.\nThe damsel, when she saw this knight, bade Fair-hands flee down the\nvalley. \"Grammercy,\" said he, \"always ye would have me a coward.\"\nWith that the Black Knight, when she came nigh him, spake and said,\n\"Damsel, have ye brought this knight of King Arthur to be your\nchampion?\"\n\"Nay, fair knight,\" said she, \"this is but a kitchen-knave, that was\nfed in King Arthur's kitchen for alms. I cannot be rid of him, for\nwith me he rideth against my will. Would that ye should put him from\nme, or else slay him, if ye may, for he is a troublesome knave, and\nevilly he hath done this day.\"\n\"Thus much shall I grant you,\" said the Black Knight: \"I shall put him\ndown upon one foot, and his horse and his harness he shall leave with\nme, for it were shame to me to do him any more harm.\"\nWhen Sir Fair-hands heard him say thus, he said, \"Sir knight, thou art\nfull generous with my horse and my harness; I let thee know it cost\nthee naught, and whether thou like it or not, this lawn will I pass,\nand neither horse nor harness gettest thou of me, except as thou win\nthem with thy hands. I am no kitchen-page, as the damsel saith I am; I\nam a gentleman born, and of more high lineage than thou, and that will\nI prove on thy body.\"\nThen in great wrath they drew back with their horses, and rushed\ntogether as it had been the thunder. The Black Knight's spear brake,\nand Fair-hands thrust him through both his sides, whereupon his own\nspear brake also. Nevertheless the Black Knight drew his sword and\nsmote many eager strokes of great might, and hurt Fair-hands full sore.\nBut at the last he fell down off his horse in a swoon, and there he\ndied.\nWhen Fair-hands saw that the Black Knight had been so well horsed and\narmed, he alighted down and armed himself in the dead man's armour,\ntook his horse, and rode after the damsel. When she saw him come nigh,\nshe said, \"Away, kitchen-knave, out of the wind, for the smell of thy\nfoul clothes offendeth me. Alas that ever such a knave as thou art\nshould by mishap slay so good a knight as thou hast done. All this is\nmy ill luck, but hard by is one that shall requite thee, and therefore\nagain I counsel thee, flee.\"\n\"It may be my lot,\" said Fair-hands, \"to be beaten or slain, but I warn\nyou, fair damsel, I will not flee away or leave your company for all\nthat ye can say, for ever ye say that they will kill me or beat me, yet\nit happeneth that I escape and they lie on the ground. Therefore it\nwere as good for you to stop thus all day rebuking me, for away will I\nnot till I see the uttermost of this journey, or else I will be slain\nor truly beaten; therefore ride on your way, for follow you I will,\nwhatsoever happen.\"\nAs they rode along together they saw a knight come driving by them all\nin green, both his horse and his harness; and when he came nigh the\ndamsel he asked her, \"Is that my brother the Black Knight that ye have\nbrought with you?\"\n\"Nay, nay,\" said she, \"this unlucky kitchen-knave hath slain your\nbrother through mischance.\"\n\"Alas,\" said the Green Knight, \"that is great pity that so noble a\nknight as he was should so unfortunately be slain, and by a knave's\nhand, as ye say that he is. Ah! traitor, thou shalt die for slaying my\nbrother; he was a full noble knight.\"\n\"I defy thee,\" said Fair-hands, \"for I make known to thee I slew him\nknightly and not shamefully.\"\nTherewithal the Green Knight rode unto a horn that was green that hung\non a green thorn, and there he blew three deadly notes, whereupon came\ntwo damsels and armed him lightly. Then he took a great horse and a\ngreen shield and a green spear, and the two knights ran together with\nall their mights. They brake their spears unto their hands, and then\ndrew their swords. Now they gave many sad strokes, and either of them\nwounded other full ill.\nAt the last Fair-hands' horse struck the Green Knight's horse upon the\nside, and it fell to the earth. Then the Green Knight left his horse\nlightly, and prepared to fight on foot. That saw Fair-hands, and\ntherewithal he alighted, and they rushed together like two mighty\nchampions a long while, and sore they bled both.\nWith that came the damsel and said, \"My lord, the Green Knight, why for\nshame stand ye so long fighting with the kitchen-knave? Alas, it is\nshame that ever ye were made knight, to see such a lad match such a\nknight, as if the weed overgrew the corn.\"\nTherewith the Green Knight was ashamed, and gave a great stroke of\nmight, and clave Fair-hands' shield through. When the young knight saw\nhis shield cloven asunder he was a little ashamed of that stroke and of\nher language, and then he gave the other such a buffet upon the helm\nthat he fell on his knees, and Fair-hands quickly pulled him upon the\nground grovelling. Then the Green Knight cried for mercy, and yielded\nhimself unto Sir Fair-hands, and prayed him to slay him not.\n\"All is in vain,\" said Fair-hands, \"for thou shalt die unless this\ndamsel that came with me pray me to save thy life.\"\nTherewithal he unlaced his helm as if to slay him. \"Let be,\" said the\ndamsel, \"thou foul kitchen-knave, slay him not, for if thou do, thou\nshalt repent it.\"\n\"Damsel,\" said Fair-hands, \"your charge is to me a pleasure, and at\nyour commandment his life shall be saved, and else not. Sir Knight\nwith the green arms, I release thee quit at this damsel's request, for\nI will not make her wroth; I will fulfil all that she chargeth me.\"\nAnd then the Green Knight kneeled down and did him homage with his\nsword, promising for ever to become his man together with thirty\nknights that held of him. Then said the damsel, \"Me repenteth, Green\nKnight, of your damage and of the death of your brother the Black\nKnight; of your help I had great need, for I fear me sore to pass this\nforest.\"\n\"Nay, fear ye not,\" said the Green Knight, \"for ye shall lodge with me\nthis night, and to-morn I shall help you through this forest.\"\nSo they took their horses and rode to his manor, which was fast there\nbeside. And ever the damsel rebuked Fair-hands, and would not suffer\nhim to sit at her table. But the Green Knight took him and set him at\na side table, and did him honour, for he saw that he was come of noble\nblood and had proved himself a full noble knight. All that night he\ncommanded thirty men privily to watch Fair-hands for to keep him from\nall treason. And on the morn they arose, and after breaking their fast\nthey took their horses and rode on their way.\nAs the Green Knight conveyed them through the forest he said, \"My lord\nFair-hands, I and these thirty knights shall be always at your summons,\nboth early and late at your call wherever ye will send us.\"\n\"It is well,\" said Fair-hands; \"when I call upon you ye must go unto\nKing Arthur with all your knights.\"\nSo the Green Knight took his leave, and the damsel said unto\nFair-hands, \"Why followest thou me, thou kitchen-boy; cast away thy\nshield and thy spear and flee, for thou shalt not pass a pass here,\nthat is called the pass Perilous.\"\n\"Damsel,\" said Fair-hands, \"who is afraid let him flee, for it were\nshame to turn again since I have ridden so long with you.\"\n\"Well,\" said she, \"ye shall soon, whether ye will or not.\"\nIn like manner on the next day Sir Fair-hands overcame a third brother,\nthe Red Knight, and in like manner the damsel would have Fair-hands\nspare his life. Albeit she spake unto him many contemptuous words,\nwhereof the Red Knight had great marvel, and all that night made\nthree-score men to watch Fair-hands that he should have no shame or\nvillainy. The Red Knight yielded himself to Fair-hands with fifty\nknights, and they all proffered him homage and fealty at all times to\ndo him service.\n\"I thank you,\" said Fair-hands; \"this ye shall grant me when I call\nupon you, to come afore my lord King Arthur and yield yourselves unto\nhim to be his knights.\"\n\"Sir,\" said the Red Knight, \"I will be ready and my fellowship at your\nsummons.\"\nSo again upon the morn Sir Fair-hands and the damsel departed, and ever\nshe rode chiding him in the foulest manner.\n\"Damsel,\" said Fair-hands, \"ye are uncourteous so to rebuke me as ye\ndo, for me seemeth I have done you good service, and ever ye threaten\nme I shall be beaten with knights that we meet; but ever for all your\nboasts they lie in the dust or in the mire, and therefore I pray you\nrebuke me no more. When ye see me beaten or yielded as recreant, then\nmay ye bid me go from you shamefully, but first I let you wit I will\nnot depart from you, for I were worse than a fool if I should depart\nfrom you all the while that I win honour.\"\n\"Well,\" said she, \"right soon there shall come a knight that shall pay\nthee all thy wages, for he is the most man of honour of the world,\nexcept King Arthur.\"\n\"The more he is of honour,\" said Fair-hands, \"the more shall be my\nhonour to have ado with him. Have no doubt, damsel, by the grace of\nGod I shall so deal with this knight that within two hours after noon I\nshall overcome him, and then shall we come to the siege of your lady's\ncastle seven miles hence by daylight.\"\n\"Marvel have I,\" said the damsel, \"what manner of man ye be, for it may\nnever be otherwise but that ye be come of noble blood, for so foul and\nshamefully did never woman rule a knight as I have done you, and ever\ncourteously ye have suffered me, and that came never but of gentle\nblood.\"\n\"Damsel,\" said Fair-hands, \"a knight may little do that may not suffer\na damsel, for whatsoever ye said unto me I took no heed to your words,\nfor the more ye said the more ye angered me, and my wrath I wreaked\nupon them that I had ado withal. And therefore all the missaying that\nye missaid me furthered me in my battle, and caused me to think to show\nand prove myself at the end what I was. For peradventure, though I had\nmeat in King Arthur's kitchen, yet I might have had meat enough in\nother places. All that I did to prove and to assay my friends, and\nwhether I be a gentleman born or not, I let you wit, fair damsel, I\nhave done you gentleman's service, and peradventure better service yet\nwill I do ere I depart from you.\"\n\"Alas,\" she said, \"good Fair-hands, forgive me all that I have missaid\nor done against thee.\"\n\"With all my heart,\" said he, \"I forgive it you, and damsel, since it\nliketh you to say thus fair to me, wit ye well it gladdeth mine heart\ngreatly, and now me seemeth there is no knight living but I am able\nenough for him.\"\nWith this Sir Persant of Inde, the fourth of the brethren that stood in\nFair-hands' way to the siege, espied them as they came upon the fair\nmeadow where his pavilion was. Sir Persant was the most lordly knight\nthat ever thou lookedst on. His pavilion and all manner of thing that\nthere is about, men and women, and horses' trappings, shields and\nspears were all of dark blue colour. Anon he and Fair-hands prepared\nthemselves and rode against one another that both their spears were\nshattered to pieces, and their horses fell dead to the earth. Then\nthey fought two hours and more on foot, until their armour was all hewn\nto pieces, and in many places they were wounded. At the last, though\nloath to do it, Fair-hands smote Sir Persant above upon the helm so\nthat he fell grovelling to the earth, and the fierce battle was at an\nend. Like his three brethren before, Sir Persant yielded himself and\nasked for mercy, and at the damsel's request Fair-hands gladly granted\nhis life, and received homage and fealty from him and a hundred\nknights, to be always at his commandment.\nOn the morn as the damsel and Sir Fair-hands departed from Sir\nPersant's pavilion, \"Fair damsel,\" said Persant, \"whitherward are ye\naway leading this knight?\"\n\"Sir,\" she said, \"this knight is going to the siege that besiegeth my\nsister in the Castle Perilous.\"\n\"Ah, ah,\" said Persant, \"that is the Knight of the Red Lawns, the most\nperilous knight that I know now living, a man that is without mercy,\nand men say that he hath seven men's strength. God save you, sir, from\nthat knight, for he doth great wrong to that lady, which is great pity,\nfor she is one of the fairest ladies of the world, and me seemeth that\nthis damsel is her sister. Is not your name Linet?\"\n\"Yea, sir,\" said she, \"and my lady my sister's name is Dame Liones.\nNow, my lord Sir Persant of Inde, I request you that ye make this\ngentleman knight or ever he fight with the Red Knight.\"\n\"I will with all my heart,\" said Sir Persant, \"if it please him to take\nthe order of knighthood of so simple a man as I am.\"\nBut Fair-hands thanked him for his good will, and told him he was\nbetter sped, as the noble Sir Launcelot had already made him knight.\nThen, after Persant and the damsel had promised to keep it close, he\ntold them his real name was Gareth of Orkney, King Arthur's nephew, and\nthat Sir Gawaine and Sir Agravaine and Sir Gaheris were all his\nbrethren, he being the youngest of them all. \"And yet,\" said he, \"wot\nnot King Arthur nor Sir Gawaine what I am.\"\nThe book saith that the lady that was besieged had word of her sister's\ncoming and a knight with her, and how he had passed all the perilous\npassages, had won all the four brethren, and had slain the Black\nKnight, and how he overthrew Sir Kay, and did great battle with Sir\nLauncelot, and was made knight by him. She was glad of these tidings,\nand sent them wine and dainty foods and bade Sir Fair-hands be of good\nheart and good courage.\nThe next day Fair-hands and Linet took their horses again and rode\nthrough a fair forest and came to a spot where they saw across the\nplain many pavilions and a fair castle and much smoke. And when they\ncame near the siege Sir Fair-hands espied upon great trees, as he rode,\nhow there hung goodly armed knights by the necks, nigh forty of them,\ntheir shields about their necks with their swords. These were knights\nthat had come to the siege to rescue Dame Liones, and had been overcome\nand put to this shameful death by the Red Knight of the Red Lawns.\nThen they rode to the dykes, and saw how strong were the defences, and\nmany great lords nigh the walls, and the sea upon the one side of the\nwalls, where were many ships and mariners' noise, with \"hale\" and \"ho.\"\nFast by there was a sycamore tree, whereupon hung a horn, the greatest\nthat ever they saw, of an elephant's bone. This the Knight of the Red\nLawns had hung up there that any errant knight might blow it, if he\nwished the Knight of the Red Lawns to come to him to do battle. The\ndamsel Linet besought Fair-hands not to blow the horn till high noon,\nfor the Red Knight's might grew greater all through the morn, till, as\nmen said, he had seven men's strength.\n\"Ah, fie for shame, fair damsel,\" said Fair-hands, \"say ye never so\nmore to me, for, were he as good a knight as ever was, I shall never\nfail him in his most might, for either I will win honour honourably, or\ndie knightly in the field.\"\nTherewith he spurred his horse straight to the sycamore tree, and blew\nthe horn so eagerly that all the siege and all the castle rang thereof.\nAnd then there leaped out knights out of their tents, and they within\nthe castle looked over the walls and out at windows. Then the Red\nKnight of the Red Lawns armed himself hastily, and two barons set his\nspurs upon his heels, and all was blood red,--his armour, spear, and\nshield. And an earl buckled his helm upon his head, and then they\nbrought him a red steed, and so he rode into a little vale under the\ncastle, that all that were in the castle and at the siege might behold\nthe battle.\nSir Fair-hands looked up at a window of the castle, and there he saw\nthe Lady Liones, the fairest lady, it seemed to him, that ever he\nlooked upon. She made courtesy down to him, and ever he looked up to\nthe window with glad countenance, and loved her from that time and\nvowed to rescue her or else to die.\n\"Leave, Sir Knight, thy looking,\" said the Red Knight, \"and behold me,\nI counsel thee, and make thee ready.\"\nThen they both put their spears in their rests, and came together with\nall the might that they had. Either smote other in the midst of the\nshield with such force that the breastplates, horse-girths, and\ncruppers brake, and both fell to the earth stunned, and lay so long\nthat all they that were in the castle and in the siege thought their\nnecks had been broken. But at length they put their shields afore\nthem, drew their swords, and ran together like two fierce lions.\nEither gave other such buffets upon the helm that they reeled backward;\nthen they recovered both, and hewed off great pieces of their harness\nand their shields.\nThus they fought till it was past noon, and never would stint, till at\nlast they lacked wind both, and stood panting and blowing a while.\nThen they went to battle again, and thus they endured till even-song\ntime, and none that beheld them might know whether was like to win.\nThen by assent of them both they granted either other to rest; and so\nthey sat down on two molehills, and unlaced their helms to take the\ncool wind. Then Sir Fair-hands looked up at the window, and there he\nsaw the fair lady, Dame Liones. She made him such countenance that his\nheart waxed light and jolly; and therewith he bade the Red Knight of\nthe Red Lawns make ready to do battle to the uttermost.\nSo they laced up their helms and fought freshly. By a cross stroke the\nRed Knight of the Red Lawns smote Sir Fair-hands' sword from him, and\nthen gave him another buffet on the helm so that he fell grovelling to\nthe earth, and the Red Knight fell upon him to hold him down. Then\nLinet cried to him aloud and said that the lady beheld and wept. When\nSir Fair-hands heard her say so he started up with great might, gat\nupon his feet, and leaped to his sword. He gripped it in his hand,\ndoubled his pace unto the Red Knight, and there they fought a new\nbattle together.\nNow Sir Fair-hands doubled his strokes and smote so thick that soon he\nhad the better of the Red Knight of the Red Lawns, and unlaced his helm\nto slay him, whereupon he yielded himself to Fair-hands' mercy.\nSir Fair-hands bethought him upon the knights that he had made to be\nhanged shamefully, and said, \"I may not with my honour save thy life.\"\nThen came there many earls and barons and noble knights, and prayed\nFair-hands to save his life and take him as prisoner. Then he released\nhim upon this covenant that he go within to the castle and yield\nhimself there to the lady, and if she would forgive him he might have\nhis life with making amends to the lady of all the trespass he had done\nagainst her and her lands.\nThe Red Knight of the Red Lawns promised to do as Sir Fair-hands\ncommanded and so with all those earls and barons he made his homage and\nfealty to him. Within a while he went unto the castle, where he made\npeace with the Lady Liones, and departed unto the court of King Arthur.\nThere he told openly how he was overcome and by whom, and also he told\nall the battles of Fair-hands from the beginning unto the ending.\n\"Mercy,\" said King Arthur and Sir Gawaine, \"we marvel much of what\nblood he is come, for he is a noble knight.\" But Sir Launcelot had no\nmarvel, for he knew whence he came, yet because of his promise he would\nnot discover Fair-hands until he permitted it or else it were known\nopenly by some other.\nDame Liones soon learned through her brother Sir Gringamore that the\nknight who had wrought her deliverance was a king's son, Sir Gareth of\nOrkney, and nephew of King Arthur himself. And she made him passing\ngood cheer, and he her again, and they had goodly language and lovely\ncountenance together. And she promised the noble knight Sir Gareth\ncertainly to love him and none other the days of her life. Then there\nwas not a gladder man than he, for ever since he saw her at the window\nof Castle Perilous he had so burned in love for her that he was nigh\npast himself in his reason.\nCHAPTER XVI\nHOW SIR GARETH RETURNED TO THE COURT OF KING ARTHUR\nNow leave we Sir Gareth there with Sir Gringamore and his sisters,\nLiones and Linet, and turn we unto King Arthur that held the next feast\nof Pentecost at Carlion. And there came the Green Knight with his\nfifty knights, and they yielded themselves all unto King Arthur. And\nso there came the Red Knight, his brother, and yielded himself and\nthree-score knights with him. Also there came the Blue Knight, brother\nto them, and his hundred knights, and yielded themselves. These three\nbrethren told King Arthur how they were overcome by a knight that a\ndamsel had with her, and called him Fair-hands. Also they told how the\nfourth brother, the Black Knight, was slain in an encounter with Sir\nFair-hands, and of the adventure with the two brethren that kept the\npassage of the water; and ever more King Arthur marvelled who the\nknight might be that was in his kitchen a twelvemonth and that Sir Kay\nin scorn named Fair-hands.\nRight as the King stood so talking with these three brethren there came\nSir Launcelot of the Lake and told him that there was come a goodly\nlord with six hundred knights. The King went out, and there came to\nhim and saluted him in a goodly manner the Red Knight of the Red Lawns,\nand he said, \"I am sent to you by a knight that is called Fair-hands,\nfor he won me in plain battle, hand for hand. No knight has ever had\nthe better of me before. I and my knights yield ourselves to your\nwill, as he commanded, to do you such service as may be in our power.\"\nKing Arthur received him courteously, as he had before received the\nthree brethren, and he promised to do them honour for the love of Sir\nFair-hands. Then the King and they went to meat, and were served in\nthe best manner.\nAnd as they sat at the table, there came in the Queen of Orkney, with\nladies and knights a great number. And her sons, Sir Gawaine, Sir\nAgravaine, and Gaheris arose and went to her, and saluted her upon\ntheir knees and asked her blessing, for in fifteen years they had not\nseen her.\nThen she spake on high to her brother, King Arthur, \"Where have ye done\nmy young son, Sir Gareth? He was here amongst you a twelvemonth, and\nye made a kitchen-knave of him, which is shame to you all.\"\n\"Oh dear mother,\" said Sir Gawaine, \"I knew him not.\"\n\"Nor I,\" said the King; \"but thanked be God, he is proved an honourable\nknight as any of his years now living, and I shall never be glad till I\nmay find him. Sister, me seemeth ye might have done me to know of his\ncoming, and then, had I not done well to him, ye might have blamed me.\nFor when he came to this court, he came leaning upon two men's\nshoulders, as though he might not walk. And then he asked of me three\ngifts,--one the same day, that was that I would give him meat for that\ntwelvemonth. The other two gifts he asked that day a twelvemonth, and\nthose were that he might have the adventure of the damsel Linet, and\nthat Sir Launcelot should make him knight when he desired him. I\ngranted him all his desire, and many in this court marvelled that he\ndesired his sustenance for a twelvemonth, and thereby deemed many of us\nthat he was not come of a noble house.\"\n\"Sir,\" said the Queen of Orkney unto King Arthur, her brother, \"I sent\nhim unto you right well armed and horsed, and gold and silver plenty to\nspend.\"\n\"It may be,\" said the King, \"but thereof saw we none, save that same\nday as he departed from us, knights told me that there came a dwarf\nhither suddenly, and brought him armour and a good horse, full well and\nrichly beseen, and thereat we had all marvel from whence that riches\ncame. Then we deemed all that he was come of men of honour.\"\n\"Brother,\" said the queen, \"all that ye say I believe, for ever since\nhe was grown he was marvellously witted, and ever he was faithful and\ntrue to his promise. But I marvel that Sir Kay did mock him and scorn\nhim, and give him the name Fair-hands. Yet Sir Kay named him more\njustly than he knew, for I dare say, if he be alive, he is as\nfair-handed a man and as well disposed as any living.\"\n\"Sister,\" said Arthur, \"by the grace of God he shall be found if he be\nwithin these seven realms. Meanwhile let us be merry, for he is proved\nto be a man of honour, and that is my joy.\"\nSo then goodly letters were made and a messenger sent forth to the Lady\nLiones, praying her to give best counsel where Sir Gareth might be\nfound. She answered that she could not then tell where he was; but she\nlet proclaim a great tournament at her castle, and was sure that Sir\nGareth would be heard of there. So King Arthur and all his knights of\nvalour and prowess came together at the Lady Liones' castle by the Isle\nof Avilion, and great deeds of arms were done there, but most of all\nSir Gareth gained honour, though no one knew that it was he until a\nherald rode near him and saw his name written about his helm.\nWit ye well the King made great joy when he found Sir Gareth again, and\never he wept as he had been a child. With that came his mother, the\nQueen of Orkney, and when she saw Sir Gareth really face to face she\nsuddenly fell down in a swoon. Then Sir Gareth comforted his mother in\nsuch a wise that she recovered, and made good cheer. And the Lady\nLiones came, among all the ladies there named the fairest and peerless.\nAnd there the King asked his nephew Sir Gareth whether he would have\nthat lady to his wife.\n\"My lord,\" said he, \"wit ye well that I love her above all ladies.\"\n\"Now, fair lady,\" said King Arthur, \"what say ye?\"\n\"Most noble King,\" said Dame Liones, \"wit ye well that my Lord Gareth\nis to me more dear to have and to hold as my husband than any king or\nprince that is christened, and if ye will suffer him to have his will\nand free choice, I dare say he will have me.\"\n\"That is truth,\" said Sir Gareth, \"and if I have not you and hold not\nyou as my wife I wed no lady.\"\n\"What, nephew,\" said the King, \"is the wind in that door! Wit ye well\nI would not for the stint of my crown be causer to withdraw your\nhearts. Ye shall have my love and my lordship in the uttermost wise\nthat may lie in my power.\"\nThen was there made a provision for the day of marriage, and by the\nKing's advice it should be at Michaelmas following at Kink-Kenadon by\nthe seaside. And when the day came the Bishop of Canterbury made the\nwedding betwixt Sir Gareth and the Lady Liones with great solemnity.\nAnd at the same time Gaheris was wedded to Linet.\nWhen this solemnisation was done there came in the Green Knight, the\nRed Knight, and all the others that had yielded themselves to Sir\nGareth, and did homage and fealty to hold their lands of him for ever,\nand desired to serve him at the feast. And the kings and queens,\nprinces, earls, and barons, and many bold knights went unto meat, and\nwell may ye wit that there was all manner of meat plenteously, all\nmanner of revels, and games, with all manner of minstrelsy that was\nused in those days. So they held the court forty days with great\nsolemnity.\nAnd this Sir Gareth was a noble knight, and a well ruled, and fair\nlanguaged.\nCHAPTER XVII\nHOW YOUNG TRISTRAM SAVED THE LIFE OF THE QUEEN OF LYONESSE\nThere was a king called Meliodas, as likely a knight as any living, and\nhe was lord of the country of Lyonesse. At that time King Arthur\nreigned supreme over England, Wales, Scotland, and many other realms,\nhowbeit there were many lords of countries that held their lands under\nKing Arthur. So also was the King of France subject to him, and the\nKing of Brittany, and all the lordships as far as Rome. The wife of\nthis King Meliodas was a full good and fair lady, called Elizabeth, the\nsister of King Mark of Cornwall. Well she loved her lord, and he her\nagain, and there was much joy betwixt them. There was a lady in that\ncountry who bore ill will towards this king and queen, and therefore\nupon a day, as he rode on hunting, for he was a great chaser, she by an\nenchantment made him chase a hart by himself alone till he came to an\nold castle, where anon she had him taken prisoner.\nWhen Queen Elizabeth missed her lord she was nigh out of her wit, and\nshe took a gentlewoman with her and ran into the forest to seek him.\nWhen she was far in the forest and might go no farther, she sank down\nexhausted. For the default of help she took cold there, and she soon\nknew that she must die. So she begged her gentlewoman to commend her\nto King Meliodas, and to say that she was full sorry to depart out of\nthis world from him, and that their little child, that was to have such\nsorrow even in his infancy, should be christened Tristram.\nTherewith this queen gave up the ghost and died. The gentlewoman laid\nher under the shadow of a great tree, and right so there came the\nbarons, following after the queen. When they saw that she was dead\nthey had her carried home, and much dole[1] was made for her.\nThe morn after his queen died King Meliodas was delivered out of\nprison, and the sorrow he made for her, when he was come home, no\ntongue might tell. He had her richly interred, and afterwards, as she\nhad commanded afore her death, had his child christened Tristram, the\nsorrowful born child. For seven years he remained without a wife, and\nall that time young Tristram was nourished well.\nThen, when he wedded King Howell's daughter of Brittany and had other\nchildren, the stepmother was wroth that Tristram should be heir to the\ncountry of Lyonesse rather than her own son. Wherefore this jealous\nqueen resolved to become rid of her stepson, and she put poison into a\nsilver cup in the chamber where Tristram and her children were\ntogether, intending that when Tristram was thirsty he should drink it.\nBut it happened that the queen's own son espied the cup with poison,\nand, because the child was thirsty and supposed it was good drink, he\ntook of it freely. Therewithal he died suddenly, and when the queen\nwist of the death of her son, wit ye well that she was heavy of heart.\nBut yet the king understood nothing of her treason.\nNotwithstanding all this the queen would not leave her jealousy, and\nsoon had more poison put in a cup. By fortune King Meliodas, her\nhusband, found the cup where was the poison, and being much thirsty he\ntook to drink thereout. Anon the queen espied him and ran unto him and\npulled the cup from him suddenly. The king marvelled why she did so,\nand remembered how her son was suddenly slain with poison. Then he\ntook her by the hand, and said: \"Thou false traitress, thou shalt tell\nme what manner of drink this is.\" Therewith he pulled out his sword,\nand swore a great oath that he should slay her if she told him not the\ntruth.\nThen she told him all, and by the assent of the barons she was\ncondemned to be burned as a traitress, according to the law. A great\nfire was made, and just as she was at the fire to take her execution\nyoung Tristram kneeled afore King Meliodas and besought of him a boon.\n\"I grant it,\" said the king, whereupon the youth demanded the life of\nthe queen, his stepmother.\n\"That is unrightfully asked,\" said King Melodias, \"for she would have\nslain thee, if she had had her will, and for thy sake most is my cause\nthat she should die.\"\nBut Tristram besought his father to forgive her, as he himself did, and\nrequired him to hold his promise. Then said the king, \"Since ye will\nhave it so, I give her to you; go ye to the fire and take her, and do\nwith her what ye will.\"\nSo Sir Tristram went to the fire, and by the commandment of the king\ndelivered her from death. But thereafter King Meliodas would never\nhave aught to do with her, though by the good means of young Tristram\nhe at length forgave her. Ever after in her life she never hated her\nstepson more, but loved him and had great joy of him, because he saved\nher from the fire. But the king would not suffer him to abide longer\nat his court.\n[1] Dole: sorrow; mourning.\nCHAPTER XVIII\nSIR TRISTRAM'S FIRST BATTLE\nKing Melodias sought out a gentleman that was well learned, and taught,\nand with him, named Gouvernail, he sent young Tristram away from\nLyonesse court into France, to learn the language and customs and deeds\nof arms. There he learned to be a harper passing all others of his\ntime, and he also applied himself well to the gentlemanly art of\nhawking and hunting, for he that gentle is will draw unto him gentle\nqualities and follow the customs of noble gentlemen. The old chronicle\nsaith he adopted good methods for the chase, and the terms he used we\nhave yet in hawking and hunting. Therefore the book of forest sports\nis called the Book of Sir Tristram.\nWhen he well could speak the language and had learned all that he might\nin that country, he came home again, and remained in Cornwall until he\nwas big and strong, of the age of nineteen years, and his father, King\nMeliodas, had great joy of him.\nThen it befell that King Anguish of Ireland sent to King Mark of\nCornwall for the tribute long paid him, but now seven years behind.\nKing Mark and his barons gave unto the messenger of Ireland the answer\nthat they would no tribute pay, and bade him tell his king that if he\nwished tribute he should send a trusty knight of his land to fight for\nit against another that Cornwall should find to defend its right. With\nthis the messenger departed into Ireland.\nWhen King Anguish understood the answer, he was wonderfully wroth, and\ncalled unto him Sir Marhaus, the good and proved knight, brother unto\nthe queen of Ireland, and a knight of the Round Table, and said to him:\n\"Fair brother, I pray you go into Cornwall for my sake, and do battle\nfor the tribute that of right we ought to have.\"\nSir Marhaus was not loath to do battle for his king and his land, and\nin all haste he was fitted with all things that to him needed, and so\nhe departed out of Ireland and arrived in Cornwall even fast by the\ncastle of Tintagil.\nWhen King Mark understood that the good and noble knight Sir Marhaus\nwas come to fight for Ireland, he made great sorrow, for he knew no\nknight that durst have ado with him. Sir Marhaus remained on his ship,\nand every day he sent word unto King Mark that he should pay the\ntribute or else find a champion to fight for it with him.\nThen they of Cornwall let make cries in every place, that what knight\nwould fight to save the tribute should be rewarded so that he should\nfare the better the term of his life. But no one came to do the\nbattle, and some counselled King Mark to send to the court of King\nArthur to seek Sir Launcelot of the Lake, that at that time was named\nfor the marvellousest knight of all the world. Others said it were\nlabour in vain to do so, because Sir Marhaus was one of the knights of\nthe Round Table, and any one of them would be loath to have ado with\nother. So the king and all his barons at the last agreed that it was\nno boot to seek any knight of the Round Table.\nMeanwhile came the language and the noise unto young Tristram how Sir\nMarhaus abode battle fast by Tintagil, and how King Mark could find no\nmanner of knight to fight for him. Then Sir Tristram was wroth and\nsore ashamed that there durst no knight in Cornwall have ado with Sir\nMarhaus, and he went unto his father, King Meliodas, and said: \"Alas,\nthat I am not made knight; if I were, I would engage with him. I pray\nyou give me leave to ride to King Mark to be made knight by him.\"\n\"I will well,\" said the father, \"that ye be ruled as your courage will\nrule you.\"\nSo Tristram went unto his uncle, who quickly gave him the order of\nknighthood, and anon sent a messenger unto Sir Marhaus with letters\nthat said he had found a young knight ready to take the battle to the\nuttermost. Then in all haste King Mark had Sir Tristram horsed and\narmed in the best manner that might be had or gotten for gold or\nsilver, and he was put into a vessel, both his horse and he, and all\nthat to him belonged both for his body and for his horse, to be taken\nto an island nigh Sir Marhaus' ships, where it was agreed that they\nshould fight. And when King Mark and his barons beheld young Sir\nTristram depart to fight for the right of Cornwall, there was neither\nman nor woman of honour but wept to see so young a knight jeopard\nhimself for their right.\nWhen Sir Tristram was arrived at the island, he commanded his servant\nGouvernail to bring his horse to the land and to dress his horse\nrightly, and then, when he was in the saddle well apparelled and his\nshield dressed upon his shoulder, he commanded Gouvernail to go to his\nvessel again and return to King Mark. \"And upon thy life,\" said he,\n\"come thou not nigh this island till thou see me overcome or slain, or\nelse that I win yonder knight.\" So either departed from other.\nWhen Sir Marhaus perceived this young knight seeking to encounter with\nhimself, one of the most renowned knights of the world, he said, \"Fair\nsir, since thou hopest to win honour of me, I let thee wit honour\nmayest thou none lose by me if thou mayest stand me three strokes, for\nI let thee wit for my noble deeds, proved and seen, King Arthur made me\nknight of the Table Round.\"\nThen they put spears in rest and ran together so fiercely that they\nsmote either other down, horse and all. Anon they pulled out their\nswords and lashed together as men that were wild and courageous. Thus\nthey fought more than half a day, and either was wounded passing sore,\nso that the blood ran down freshly from them upon the ground. By then\nSir Tristram waxed more fresh than Sir Marhaus, and better winded, and\nbigger, and with a mighty stroke he smote Sir Marhaus upon the helm\nsuch a buffet, that it went through his helm and through the coif of\nsteel and through the brain-pan, and the sword stuck so fast in the\nhelm and in his brain-pan that Sir Tristram pulled thrice at his sword\nor ever he might pull it out from his head; and there Marhaus fell down\non his knees, the edge of Tristram's sword left in his brain-pan.\nSuddenly Sir Marhaus rose grovelling, and threw his sword and his\nshield from him, and so ran to his ships and fled his way, sore\ngroaning.\nAnon he and his fellowship departed into Ireland, and, as soon as he\ncame to the king his brother, he had his wounds searched, and in his\nhead was found a piece of Sir Tristram's sword. No surgeons might cure\nthis wound, and so he died of Sir Tristram's sword. That piece of the\nsword the queen his sister kept ever with her, for she thought to be\nrevenged, if she might.\nNow turn we again unto Sir Tristram, that was sore wounded by a\nspear-thrust of Sir Marhaus so that he might scarcely stir. He sat\ndown softly upon a little hill, and bled fast. Then anon came\nGouvernail, his man, with his vessel, and Sir Tristram was quickly\ntaken back into the castle of Tintagil. He was cared for in the best\nmanner possible, but he lay there a month and more, and ever he was\nlike to die of the stroke from Sir Marhaus' spear, for, as the French\nbook saith, the spear's head was envenomed. Then was King Mark passing\nheavy, and he sent after all manner of surgeons, but there was none\nthat would promise him life.\nAt last there came a right wise lady, and she said plainly that he\nshould never be whole unless he went into the same country that the\nvenom came from, and in that country he should be holpen, or else\nnever. When King Mark understood that, he let provide for Sir Tristram\na fair vessel, well victualled, and therein was put Sir Tristram and\nGouvernail, with him. Sir Tristram took his harp with him, and so they\nput to sea to sail into Ireland.\nCHAPTER XIX\nSIR TRISTRAM AND THE FAIR ISOUD\nBy good fortune Sir Tristram with Gouvernail arrived in Ireland fast by\na castle where King Anguish and the queen were. As he came to land he\nsat and harped in his bed a merry lay, such as none in Ireland ever\nheard afore that time. And when the king and queen were told of this\nstranger that was such a harper, anon they sent for him and let search\nhis wounds, and then asked him his name. Then he answered, \"I am of\nthe country of Lyonesse; my name is Tramtrist, and I was thus wounded\nin a battle, as I fought for a lady's right.\"\n\"Truly,\" said King Anguish, \"ye shall have all the help in this land\nthat ye may. But I let you wit in Cornwall I had a great loss as ever\nking had, for there I lost the best knight of the world. His name was\nMarhaus, a full noble knight of the Table Round.\" Then he told Sir\nTristram wherefore Sir Marhaus was slain. Sir Tristram made semblant\nas if he were sorry, and yet better knew he how it was than the king.\nThe king for great favour had Tramtrist put in his daughter's keeping,\nbecause she was a noble surgeon. When she searched his wound she found\nthat therein was poison, and so she healed him within a while.\nTherefore Tramtrist cast great devotion to the Fair Isoud, for she was\nat that time the fairest maid of the world. He taught her to harp, and\nshe soon began to have a great fancy unto him. Then soon he showed\nhimself to be so brave and true a knight in the jousts that she had\ngreat suspicion that he was some man of honour proved, and she loved\nhim more than heretofore.\nThus was Sir Tramtrist long there well cherished by the king and the\nqueen and especially by Isoud the Fair. Upon a day as Sir Tramtrist\nwas absent, the queen and Isoud roamed up and down in the chamber, and\nbeheld his sword there as it lay upon his bed. And then by mishap the\nqueen drew out the sword and regarded it a long while. Both thought it\na passing fair sword, but within a foot and a half of the point there\nwas a great piece thereof broken out of the edge. When the queen\nespied that gap in the sword, she remembered her of a piece of a sword\nthat was found in the brain-pan of Sir Marhaus, her brother. \"Alas,\"\nthen said she unto her daughter, the Fair Isoud, \"this is the traitor\nknight that slew thine uncle.\"\nWhen Isoud heard her say so she was sore abashed, for much she loved\nSir Tramtrist, and full well she knew the cruelness of her mother.\nAnon the queen went unto her own chamber and sought her coffer, and\nthere she took out the piece of the sword that was pulled out of Sir\nMarhaus' head. Then she ran with that piece of iron to the sword that\nlay upon the bed, and when she put that piece unto the sword, it was as\nmeet as it could be when new broken. The queen now gripped that sword\nin her hand fiercely, and with all her might ran straight to where she\nknew Tramtrist was, and there she would have thrust him through, had\nnot a knight pulled the sword from her.\nThen when she was letted of her evil will, she ran to King Anguish and\ntold him on her knees what traitor he had in his house. The king was\nright heavy thereof, but charged the queen to leave him to deal with\nthe knight. He went straight into the chamber unto Sir Tramtrist, that\nhe found by now all ready armed to mount upon his horse. King Anguish\nsaw that it was of no avail to fight, and that it was no honour to slay\nSir Tramtrist while a guest within his court; so he gave him leave to\ndepart from Ireland in safety, if he would tell who he was, and whether\nhe slew Sir Marhaus.\n\"Sir,\" said Tristram, \"now I shall tell you all the truth: My father's\nname is Meliodas, king of Lyonesse, and my mother is called Elizabeth,\nthat was sister unto King Mark of Cornwall. I was christened Tristram,\nbut, because I would not be known in this country, I turned my name,\nand had myself called Tramtrist. For the tribute of Cornwall I fought\nfor mine uncle's sake, and for the right of Cornwall that ye had\npossessed many years. And wit ye well I did the battle for the love of\nmine uncle, King Mark, for the love of the country of Cornwall, and to\nincrease mine honour.\"\n\"Truly,\" said the king, \"I may not say but ye did as a knight should;\nhowbeit I may not maintain you in this country with my honour.\"\n\"Sir,\" said Tristram, \"I thank you for your good lordship that I have\nhad with you here, and the great goodness my lady your daughter hath\nshown me. It may so happen that ye shall win more by my life than by\nmy death, for in the parts of England it may be I may do you service at\nsome season so that ye shall be glad that ever ye showed me your good\nlordship. I beseech your good grace that I may take my leave of your\ndaughter and of all the barons and knights.\"\nThis request the king granted, and Sir Tristram went unto the Fair\nIsoud and took leave of her. And he told her all,--what he was, how he\nhad changed his name because he would not be known, and how a lady told\nhim that he should never be whole till he came into this country where\nthe poison was made. She was full woe of his departing, and wept\nheartily.\n\"Madam,\" said Tristram, \"I promise you faithfully that I shall be all\nthe days of my life your knight.\"\n\"Grammercy,\" said the Fair Isoud, \"and I promise you against that I\nshall not be married this seven years but by your assent.\"\nThen Sir Tristram gave her a ring, and she gave him another, and\ntherewith he departed from her, leaving her making great dole and\nlamentation. And he straight went unto the court among all the barons,\nand there he took his leave of most and least, and so departed and took\nthe sea, and with good wind he arrived up at Tintagil in Cornwall.\nCHAPTER XX\nHOW SIR TRISTRAM DEMANDED THE FAIR ISOUD\n FOR KING MARK, AND HOW SIR TRISTRAM\n AND ISOUD DRANK THE LOVE POTION\nWhen there came tidings that Sir Tristram was arrived and whole of his\nwounds, King Mark was passing glad, and so were all the barons. And\nSir Tristram lived at the court of King Mark in great joy long time,\nuntil at the last there befell a jealousy and an unkindness between\nthem. Then King Mark cast always in his heart how he might destroy Sir\nTristram.\nThe beauty and goodness of the Fair Isoud were so praised by Sir\nTristram that King Mark said he would wed her, and prayed Sir Tristram\nto take his way into Ireland for him, as his messenger, to bring her to\nCornwall. All this was done to the intent to slay Sir Tristram.\nNotwithstanding, Sir Tristram would not refuse the message for any\ndanger or peril, and made ready to go in the goodliest wise that might\nbe devised. He took with him the goodliest knights that he might find\nin the court, arrayed them after the guise that was then used, and so\ndeparted over sea with all his fellowship.\nAnon as he was in the broad sea a tempest took them and drove them back\ninto the coast of England. They came to land fast by Camelot, and\nthere Sir Tristram set up his pavilion. Now it fell that King Anguish\nof Ireland was accused of slaying by treason a cousin of Sir Launcelot\nof the Lake, and just at this time he was come to the court at the\nsummoning of King Arthur upon pain of forfeiture of his lands; yet ere\nhe arrived at Camelot he wist not wherefore he was sent after. When he\nheard the accusation he understood full well there was no remedy but to\nanswer it knightly, for the custom was in those days, that if any man\nwere accused of any treason or murder, he should fight body for body or\nelse find another knight to fight for him. Now King Anguish grew\npassing heavy when he heard his accusing, for the knights of King Ban's\nblood, as Sir Launcelot was, were as hard men to win in battle as any\nthen living.\nThe meanwhile Sir Tristram was told how King Anguish was come thither\nin great distress, and he sent Gouvernail to bring him to his pavilion.\nWhen Sir Tristram saw the king coming he ran unto him and would have\nholden his stirrup, but King Anguish leaped lightly from his horse, and\neither embraced other heartily. Sir Tristram remembered his promise,\nmade when departing from Ireland, to do service to King Anguish if ever\nit lay in his power, and never had there been so great need of knight's\nhelp as now. So when King Anguish told Sir Tristram all, Sir Tristram\ntook the battle for the sake of the good lordship showed him in\nIreland, and for the sake of the Fair Isoud, upon the condition that\nKing Anguish grant two things. One was that he should swear that he\nwas in the right and had never consented to the death of the knight.\nThe second request was to be granted after the battle, if God should\nspeed him therein.\nKing Anguish quickly granted Sir Tristram whatsoever he asked, and anon\ndeparted unto King Arthur's judges, and told them he had found a\nchampion ready to do the battle for him. So Sir Tristram fought for\nKing Anguish and overcame his adversary, a most noble knight. Then\nKing Anguish and Sir Tristram joyfully took their leave, and sailed\ninto Ireland with great nobleness.\nWhen they were in Ireland the king let make it known throughout all the\nland, how and in what manner Sir Tristram had done for him. Then the\nqueen and all that were there made the most of him that they might.\nBut the joy that the Fair Isoud made of Sir Tristram no tongue might\ntell, for of men earthly she loved him most.\nThen upon a day King Anguish would know from Sir Tristram why he asked\nnot his boon, for whatsoever had been promised he should have without\nfail. \"Sir,\" said Tristram, \"now is it time, and this is what I\ndesire: that ye will give me the Fair Isoud, your daughter, not for\nmyself, but for mine uncle, King Mark, that shall have her to wife, for\nso have I promised him.\"\n\"Alas,\" said the king, \"I had rather than all the land that I have ye\nwould wed her yourself.\"\n\"Sir,\" said Sir Tristram, \"if I did, then were I ashamed for ever in\nthis world, and false of my promise. Therefore I pray you hold your\npromise that ye gave me, for this is my desire, that ye will give me\nthe Fair Isoud to go with me into Cornwall, to be wedded to King Mark,\nmine uncle.\"\n[Illustration: Sir Tristram and the Fair Isoud]\n\"As for that,\" said King Anguish, \"ye shall have her with you, to do\nwith her what it please you; that is to say, if ye list to wed her\nyourself, that is to me lievest[1]; and if ye will give her unto King\nMark, that is in your choice.\"\nSo, to make a short conclusion, the Fair Isoud was made ready to go\nwith Sir Tristram, and Dame Bragwaine went with her for her chief\ngentlewoman, with many others. The queen, Isoud's mother, gave to Dame\nBragwaine and unto Gouvernail a drink, and charged them that what day\nKing Mark should wed, that same day they should give him that drink,\n\"and then,\" said the queen, \"I undertake either shall love other the\ndays of their life.\"\nSo this drink was given unto Dame Bragwaine and unto Gouvernail, and\nthen anon Sir Tristram took the sea with the Fair Isoud. When they\nwere in the cabin, it happened that they were thirsty, and they saw a\nlittle flask of gold stand by them, that seemed by the colour and the\ntaste to be noble wine. Then Sir Tristram took the flask in his hand,\nand said: \"Madam Isoud, here is the best drink that ever ye drank, that\nDame Bragwaine your maid and Gouvernail my servant have kept for\nthemselves.\"\nThen they laughed and made good cheer, and either drank to other,\nthinking never drink was so sweet or so good. But after they had drunk\nthat magic wine, they loved either other so truly that never their love\ndeparted either for weal or for woe.\nSo they sailed on till by fortune they came into Cornwall. There all\nthe barons met them, and anon King Mark and the Fair Isoud were richly\nwedded with great splendour. But ever, as the French book saith, Sir\nTristram and the Fair Isoud loved each other truly, and his life long\nhe was her loyal and honourable knight.\n[1] Lievest: dearest.\nCHAPTER XXI\nHOW SIR TRISTRAM DEPARTED FROM TINTAGIL,\n AND WAS LONG IN THE FOREST\nThere were great jousts and tourneying at that time in Cornwall, and\nSir Tristram was most praised of all the knights. But some were\njealous because of his prowess, and especially Sir Andred, that was\ncousin unto Sir Tristram, ever lay in a watch to wait betwixt him and\nthe Fair Isoud, for to take them and slander them. So upon a day Sir\nTristram talked with Isoud in a window, and that espied Sir Andred, and\ntold it to the king.\nThen King Mark took a sword in his hand and came to Sir Tristram, and\ncalled him false traitor, and would have stricken him. But Sir\nTristram ran under his sword, and took it out of his hand. And then\nthe king cried, \"Where are my knights and my men? I charge you slay\nthis traitor.\"\nBut there was not one would move for his words. When Sir Tristram saw\nthere was not one would be against him, he shook the sword to the king,\nand made as though he would strike him. And then King Mark fled, for\nhe was a coward, and Sir Tristram followed him, and smote upon him five\nor six strokes with the flat of his sword on the neck so that he made\nhim fall upon the nose. Sir Tristram then went his way and armed\nhimself, and took his horse and his man, and so he rode into the forest.\nKing Mark called his council unto him and asked advice of his barons\nwhat was best to do with Sir Tristram. Their counsel was to send for\nhim, that they might be friends, for in a quarrel, if Sir Tristram were\nhard bestead, many men would hold with him against the king; and if so\npeerless a knight should depart from King Mark's court and go to King\nArthur's he would get himself such friends there that Cornwall would be\nin ill repute.\nSo the barons sent for Sir Tristram under a safe conduct, and he was\nwelcomed back by King Mark. But his enemies ever plotted against him,\nand on a day Sir Andred and some of the barons set upon him secretly,\nseized him, and took him, bound hand and foot, unto a chapel which\nstood upon the sea rocks. When Sir Tristram saw that Andred meant to\nkill him there, he said: \"Fair Lords, remember what I have done for the\ncountry Cornwall, and in what jeopardy I have been for the weal of you\nall, and see not me die thus to the shame of all knighthood.\"\nBut Andred held to his purpose, and when Sir Tristram saw him draw his\nsword to kill him, he looked upon both his hands that were fast bound\nunto two knights, and suddenly he pulled them both to him and so freed\nhis hands. Then he leaped unto his cousin Andred and wrested his sword\nout of his hands. Then he smote Sir Andred to the earth, and fought\nwith the others till he had killed ten knights. So Sir Tristram gat\nthe chapel and kept it by force.\nThen the uproar became great, and the people gathered unto Sir Andred,\nmore than a hundred, whereupon Sir Tristram shut fast the chapel door,\nand brake the bars of a window, and so he leaped out and fell upon the\ncrags by the sea. Here Sir Andred and his fellows might not get to him\nat that time, and so they departed.\nWhen Sir Tristram's men heard that he was escaped they were passing\nglad, and on the rocks they found him, and with towels they pulled him\nup. Then Sir Tristram dreaded sore lest he were discovered unto the\nking, wherefore he sent Gouvernail for his horse and his spear, and so\nhe rode his way into the forest. As he rode he was in great sorrow at\ndeparting in this wise; and there, as he made great dole, by fortune a\ndamsel met him, and she and her lady brought him meat and drink. Also\nthey brought him a harp, for they knew him, and wist that for goodly\nharping he bore the prize in the world.\nSo they tried to give him comfort, but he ate little of the food, and\nat the last, came wholly out his mind for sorrow. He would go about in\nthe wilderness breaking down the trees and boughs; and otherwhile, when\nhe found the harp that the lady sent him, then would he harp and play\nthereupon and weep together. Sometimes when Sir Tristram was in the\nwood, then would the lady sit down and play upon the harp; then would\nhe come to that harp and hearken thereto, and sometimes he would harp\nhimself.\nThus it went on a quarter of a year, when at the last Sir Tristram ran\nhis way, and the lady wist not what had become of him. He waxed lean\nand poor of flesh, and fell into the fellowship of herdmen and\nshepherds, and daily they would give him of their meat and drink. And\nwhen he did any evil deed they would beat him with rods, and so they\nclipped him with shears and made him like a fool.\nAnd upon a day Sir Dagonet, King Arthur's fool, came into Cornwall,\nwith two squires with him, and as they rode through the forest they\ncame by a fair well where Sir Tristram was wont to be. The weather was\nhot, and they alighted to drink of that well, and in the meanwhile\ntheir horses brake loose. Just then Sir Tristram came unto them, and\nfirst he soused Sir Dagonet in that well, and then his squires, and\nthereat laughed the shepherds. Forthwithal he ran after their horses,\nand brought them again one by one, and right so, wet as they were, he\nmade Sir Dagonet and his squires mount and ride their ways.\nThus Sir Tristram endured there a half-year, and would never come in\ntown or village. Then Sir Andred, that was cousin unto Sir Tristram,\nlet a tale be brought unto King Mark's court that Sir Tristram was\ndead, and that ere he died he besought King Mark to make Sir Andred\nking of the country of Lyonesse, of the which Sir Tristram was lord.\nWhen Queen Isoud heard of these tidings she made such sorrow that she\nwas nigh out of her mind, and she lay long sick, at the point of death.\nMeanwhile a knight came unto King Mark and told him of a mad man in the\nforest at the fair fountain. So he commanded his knights to take Sir\nTristram with fairness, and bring him to his castle, yet he knew not\nthat the mad man was Sir Tristram. They did softly and fair, and cast\nmantles upon Sir Tristram, and so led him unto Tintagil. There they\nbathed him, and gave him hot suppings, till they had brought him well\nto his remembrance. But all this while there was no creature that knew\nSir Tristram, nor what man he was.\nNow it fell upon a day that the queen, the Fair Isoud, heard of this\nman that ran wild in the forest and how the king had brought him home\nto the court, and with Dame Bragwaine she went to see him in the\ngarden, where he was reposing in the sun. When she looked upon Sir\nTristram she knew not that it was he, yet it seemed to her she had seen\nhim before. But as soon as Sir Tristram saw her he knew her well\nenough, and he turned away his visage and wept. The queen had always\nwith her a little dog that Sir Tristram gave her the first time that\never she came into Cornwall, and never would that dog depart from her\nunless Sir Tristram was nigh there with Isoud. Anon as this little dog\ncaught a scent of Sir Tristram, she leaped upon him, licked his cheeks,\nwhined and smelled at his feet and over his whole body. Then the Fair\nIsoud saw that it was her lord, Sir Tristram, and thereupon she fell\ndown in a swoon, and so lay a great while.\nWhen she might speak, she blessed God that Sir Tristram was still\nalive, yet she knew that her lord King Mark would discover him by the\nlittle dog that would never leave him.\nCHAPTER XXII\nHOW KING MARK WAS SORRY FOR THE GOOD\n RENOWN OF SIR TRISTRAM\nThe queen departed from Sir Tristram but the little dog would not from\nhim. Therewithal came King Mark, and the dog set upon him and bayed at\nall the barons. Thereupon Sir Andred saw by the dog that it was Sir\nTristram, and King Mark repented that he had brought the mad man in\nfrom the forest. Then he let call his barons to judge Sir Tristram to\ndeath. They would not assent thereto, but by the advice of them all he\nwas banished out of the country for ten years.\nSo Sir Tristram was made to depart out of the country of Cornwall, and\nthere were many barons brought him into his ship. When he was ready to\nset sail he said: \"Greet well King Mark and all mine enemies, and say I\nwill come again when I may. And well am I rewarded for the fighting\nwith Sir Marhaus, and delivering all this country from servage, and\nwell am I rewarded for the fetching of the Fair Isoud out of Ireland,\nand the danger I was in first and last.\"\nSo Sir Tristram departed over sea, and arrived in Wales. As he rode\nthere through the Forest Perilous, a lady in great distress met him,\nthat said: \"O my lord, come with me, and that in all the haste ye may,\nfor ye shall see the most honourable knight of the world hard bestead,\nand he is none other than the noble King Arthur himself.\"\n\"God defend,\" said Sir Tristram, \"that ever he should be in such\ndistress. I am ready to help him if I may.\"\nSo they rode at a great pace, till they saw a knight, that was King\nArthur, on foot fighting with two knights, and anon the one knight was\nsmitten down, and they unlaced his helm to slay him. Therewithal came\nSir Tristram with all his might, and smote the two traitors so that\nthey fell dead. Then he horsed King Arthur, and as they rode forth\ntogether, the King thanked heartily Sir Tristram and desired to wit his\nname. He would not tell him, but said that he was a poor knight\nadventurous. So he bare King Arthur fellowship, till he met with some\nof his knights.\nThen departed Sir Tristram, and rode straight toward Camelot. Then was\nhe ware of a seemly knight riding against him with a covered shield.\nThey dressed their shields and spears, and came together with all the\nmights of their horses. They met so fiercely that both horses and\nknights fell to the earth. As fast as they were able they then gat\nfree from their horses, and put their shields before them; and they\nstrake together with bright swords, like men of might, and either\nwounded other wonderly sore, so that the blood ran out upon the grass.\nThus they two fought the space of four hours. Never one would speak to\nother one word, and of their harness they hewed off many pieces. Then\nat the last spake the one with the covered shield; \"Knight, thou\nfightest wonderly well as ever I saw knight; therefore if it please you\ntell me your name.\"\n\"Sir,\" said Sir Tristram, \"that is me loath to tell any man my name.\"\n\"Truly,\" said the other, \"if I was requested, I was never loath to tell\nmy name. I am Sir Launcelot of the Lake.\"\n\"Alas,\" said Sir Tristram, \"what have I done, for ye are the man in the\nworld that I love best.\"\n\"Fair knight,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"tell me now your name.\"\n\"Truly,\" said he, \"my name is Sir Tristram of Lyonesse.\"\n\"Oh,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"what adventure is befallen me!\"\nTherewith Sir Launcelot kneeled adown, and yielded him up his sword.\nAnd therewithal Sir Tristram kneeled adown, and yielded him up his\nsword. So either gave other the victory. Thereupon they both\nforthwithal went to a stone, and sat down upon it, and took off their\nhelms to cool themselves. Then after a while they took their helms and\nrode together to Camelot.\nThere soon they met King Arthur, and when he wist that it was Sir\nTristram, he ran unto him and took him by the hand and said, \"Sir\nTristram, ye be as welcome as any knight that ever came to this court.\"\nThen they went to the Table Round, where Queen Guenever came, and many\nladies with her, and all the ladies said at one voice, \"Welcome, Sir\nTristram.\" \"Welcome,\" said the damsels; \"Welcome,\" said the knights;\n\"Welcome,\" said Arthur, \"for one of the best knights and the gentlest\nof the world, and the man of most honour. For of all manner of hunting\nye bear the prize; and of all the terms of hunting and hawking ye are\nthe beginner; of all instruments of music ye are the best. Therefore,\ngentle knight, ye are welcome to this court. Now I pray you, grant me\na boon.\"\n\"It shall be at your commandment,\" said Tristram.\n\"Well,\" said Arthur, \"I will desire of you that ye will abide in my\ncourt.\"\n\"Sir,\" said Sir Tristram, \"thereto is me loath, for I have ado in many\ncountries.\"\n\"Not so,\" said Arthur; \"ye have promised it me, and ye may not say nay.\"\nSo Tristram agreed to remain with King Arthur, who then went unto the\nsieges about the Round Table, and looked in every siege that lacked a\nknight. Then the King saw in the siege of Marhaus letters that said,\n\"This is the siege of the noble knight Sir Tristram.\" And then Arthur\nmade Sir Tristram knight of the Table Round with great splendour and\ngreat feast, as might be thought. For that Sir Marhaus, a worthy\nknight, was slain afore by the hands of Sir Tristram was well known at\nthat time in the court of Arthur; and that for evil deeds that he did\nunto the country of Cornwall Sir Tristram and he fought; and that they\nfought so long tracing and traversing till they fell bleeding to the\nearth, for they were so sore wounded that they might not stand; and\nthat Sir Tristram by fortune recovered, and Sir Marhaus died through\nthe stroke on the head.\nKing Mark had had great despite of the renown of Sir Tristram, and\ntherefore had chased him out of Cornwall. When now he heard of the\ngreat prowess that Sir Tristram did in England he was sore grieved, and\nsent men to espy what deeds he did. The Queen Isoud also on her part\nsent privily spies to know what deeds he had done, for great love was\nbetween them twain. When the messengers came home, and told that Sir\nTristram passed all other knights at Arthur's court unless it were Sir\nLauncelot, King Mark was right heavy of the tidings, and as glad was\nthe Fair Isoud. Then in great despite King Mark took with him two good\nknights and two squires, disguised himself, and took his way into\nEngland, to the intent to slay Sir Tristram.\nSo King Mark came into England, where he soon became known as the most\nhorrible coward that ever bestrode horse; and there was much laughing\nand jesting at the knight of Cornwall, and much he was despised. Sir\nDagonet, King Arthur's fool, at one time chased him through thick and\nthin over the forests; and when on a day Sir Launcelot overtook him and\nbade him turn and fight, he made no defence, but tumbled down out off\nthe saddle to the earth as a sack, and there he lay still, and cried\nSir Launcelot mercy.\nSo King Mark was soon brought as recreant before King Arthur, who\nalready knew wherefore he was come into his country, and that he had\nnot done the service and homage he owed as King Arthur's under-lord.\nBut King Mark promised to make large amends for the wrongs he had done,\nfor he was a fair speaker, and false thereunder. So on a day King\nArthur prayed of him one gift, and King Mark promised to give him\nwhatsoever he desired, if it were in his power. Then King Arthur asked\nhim to be good lord unto Sir Tristram, and to take him back into\nCornwall, and to cherish him for Arthur's sake. King Mark promised\nthis, and swore upon a book afore Arthur and all his knights.\nTherewith King Arthur forgave him all the evil will that ever he owed\nhim, and King Mark and Sir Tristram took either other by the hands hard\nknit together. But for all this King Mark thought falsely, as it\nproved afterward.\nThen soon afterward King Mark took his leave to ride into Cornwall, and\nSir Tristram rode with him; wherefore the most part of the Round Table\nwere passing heavy, and some were wroth, knowing that King Mark was the\nmost coward and the villainest knight living.\nAfter a while letters came out of Cornwall that spake ill of Sir\nTristram and showed plainly that King Mark took Sir Tristram for his\nmortal enemy. Sir Launcelot in especial made great sorrow for anger,\nwherefore Dinadan, a gentle, wise, and courteous knight, said to him:\n\"King Mark is so villainous that by fair speech shall never man get of\nhim. But ye shall see what I shall do. I will make a lay for him, and\nwhen it is made I shall make a harper sing it afore him.\"\nSo anon Dinadan went and made the lay, hoping thereby to humble the\ncrafty king; and he taught it an harper named Eliot, and when he knew\nit, he taught it to many harpers. And so, by the will of Sir Launcelot\nand of Arthur, the harpers went straight into Wales and into Cornwall,\nto sing the lay that Sir Dinadan made of King Mark, which was the worst\nlay that ever harper sang with harp or with any other instrument.\nAt a great feast that King Mark made came in Eliot the harper, and\nbecause he was a curious harper, men heard him sing the lay that\nDinadan had made, the which spake the most villainy of King Mark's\ntreason that ever man heard. When the harper had sung his song to the\nend, King Mark was wonderly wroth, for he deemed that the lay that was\nsung afore him was made by Sir Tristram's counsel, wherefore he thought\nto slay him and all his well willers in that country.\nSo King Mark grew ever more jealous of Sir Tristram because of his\nprowess as knight and his great love and loyal devotion to the queen,\nthe Fair Isoud; and by treason King Mark let take him and put him in\nprison, contrary to his promise that he made unto King Arthur. When\nQueen Isoud understood that Sir Tristram was in prison, she made as\ngreat sorrow as ever made lady or gentlewoman. Then Sir Tristram sent\na letter unto her, and prayed her to be his good lady; and if it\npleased her to make a vessel ready for her and him, he would go with\nher unto the realm of Logris, that is this land.\nWhen the Fair Isoud understood Sir Tristram's letter and his intent,\nshe sent him another, and bade him be of good comfort, for she would\nmake the vessel ready, and all things to purpose. Then she had King\nMark taken and put in prison, until the time that she and Sir Tristram\nwere departed unto the realm of Logris. And then Sir Tristram was\ndelivered out of prison, and anon in all haste they took their vessel,\nand came by water into England.\nWhen Sir Launcelot understood that Sir Tristram was there, he was full\nglad. He espied whither he went, and after him he rode, and then\neither made of other great joy. And so Sir Launcelot brought Sir\nTristram and the Fair Isoud unto Joyous Gard, that was Sir Launcelot's\nown castle that he had won with his own hands. And he charged all his\npeople to honour them and love them as they would do himself.\nNear three years Sir Tristram kept the Fair Isoud with him in Joyous\nGard, and then by means of treaties he brought her again unto King Fox,\nwhich was the name Sir Launcelot gave unto Mark because of his wiles\nand treason. But ever the malice of King Fox followed his brave\nnephew, and in the end he slew him as he sat harping afore his lady,\nthe Fair Isoud, with a trenchant glaive, thrust in behind to the heart.\nFor his death was much bewailing of every knight that ever was in\nArthur's days, for he was traitorously slain. And the Fair Isoud died,\nswooning upon the cross of Sir Tristram, whereof was great pity. And\nall that were with King Mark that were consenting to the death of Sir\nTristram were slain, as Sir Andred and many others.\nCHAPTER XXIII\nHOW SIR PERCIVALE OF GALIS SOUGHT AND\n FOUND SIR LAUNCELOT\nWhile King Arthur and his knights were still sorrowful over Sir\nTristram's return to Cornwall, greatly fearing mischief to the good\nknight by some manner of falsehood or treason of King Mark, there came\nto the court a knight bringing a young squire with him. It was Sir\nAglovale, King Pellinore's son, and the squire was his brother,\nPercivale, that he wished King Arthur to make knight. The boy was the\nyoungest of five sons, and for love of the father and the brothers,\ngood knights all, the King made him a knight the next day in Camelot;\nyet the King and all the knights thought it would be long ere he proved\na man of prowess, and Sir Kay and Sir Mordred made sport of his rude\nmanner.\nAt the dinner, when every knight was set after his honour, the King\ncommanded Sir Percivale to be placed among mean knights. But there was\na maiden in the Queen's court that was come of high blood, yet she was\ndumb, and never spake a word. Right so she came straight into the\nhall, went unto Sir Percivale, took him by the hand, and said aloud,\nthat the King and all the knights might hear it, \"Arise, Sir Percivale,\nthe noble knight and God's knight, and go with me.\"\nSo he did, and she brought him to the right side of the Siege Perilous,\nand said, \"Fair knight, take here thy siege, for that siege\nappertaineth to thee, and to none other.\" Right so she departed, and\nsoon afterward she died. Then the King and all the court made great\njoy of Sir Percivale.\nThen Sir Percivale rode forth upon adventures, and came unto Cornwall\nto seek Sir Tristram. And he delivered him from a prison where King\nMark had placed him, and then rode straight unto King Mark and told him\nhe had done himself great shame to treat so falsely Sir Tristram, the\nknight of most renown in all the world. Then Sir Percivale departed,\nbut anon King Mark bethought him of more treason, notwithstanding his\npromise never by any manner of means to hurt Sir Tristram, and he let\ntake him and put him again in prison. How he then escaped with Isoud\ninto England we have already read in the tale of Sir Tristram.\nNow it chanced that Sir Launcelot of the Lake had sore offended the\nQueen Guenever, and she rebuked him harshly, called him false traitor\nknight, and sent him from her court. Therewith he took such an hearty\nsorrow at her words that he went clean out of his mind, and leaped out\nat a bay window into a garden, and there with thorns he was all\nscratched up in his visage. So he ran forth he wist not whither, and\nfor a long while none of his kin wist what was become of him.\nSoon Queen Guenever was right sorry that she had been so angry with her\nfaithful knight, and on her knees besought Sir Bors and many others to\nseek Sir Launcelot throughout all England, Wales, and Scotland. So\nthese noble knights by one assent rode forth by twos and threes; and\never they assigned where they should meet.\nSir Aglovale and Sir Percivale rode together unto their mother that was\na queen in those days. And when she saw her two sons, for joy she wept\ntenderly and said, \"Ah my dear sons, when your father was slain he left\nme five sons, of the which now be three slain; my heart shall never be\nglad more.\" Then she kneeled down tofore Aglovale and Percivale, and\nbesought them to abide at home with her.\n\"Ah, sweet mother,\" said Sir Percivale, \"we may not, for we be come of\nking's blood on both sides, and therefore, mother, it is our kind to\nfollow arms and noble deeds.\"\nThen there was but weeping and sobbing when they should depart, and\nafter they were gone, she sent a squire after them with spending\nenough. When the squire had overtaken them, they would not suffer him\nto ride with them, but sent him home again to comfort their mother,\npraying her meekly for her blessing.\nSo this squire was benighted as he rode homeward, and by misfortune\nhappened to come into the castle of a baron whose brother (a false\nknight and betrayer of ladies and of good knights) Sir Aglovale had\nslain. When this baron knew from the squire that he served a good\nknight called Sir Aglovale, he commanded his men to have him away\nwithout mercy.\nOn the morn came Sir Aglovale and Sir Percivale riding by a churchyard\nwhere men and women were busy in burying this same dead squire. When\nthe brothers heard from a good man of the company how the baron had\nshamefully slain the squire that night, they alighted both, left their\nhorses with their men, and went on foot to the castle. All so soon as\nthey were within the castle gate Sir Aglovale bade the porter \"Go thou\nunto thy lord and tell him that I am Sir Aglovale, for whom the squire\nwas slain this night.\"\nAnon the lord of the castle, whose name was Goodewin, came armed into\nthe court, and he and Sir Aglovale lashed together as eagerly as it had\nbeen two lions. Sir Percivale fought with all the remnant that would\nfight, and within a while had slain all that would withstand him, for\nhe dealt so his strokes that there durst no man abide him. Within a\nwhile Sir Aglovale had Sir Goodewin also at the earth, and so the two\nbrethren departed and took their horses. Then they let carry the dead\nsquire unto a priory, and there they interred him. When this was done\nthey rode their way into many countries, ever inquiring after Sir\nLauncelot, but never they could hear of him.\nAt last, at a castle that was called Cardican, Sir Percivale parted\nfrom Sir Aglovale, and with his squire rode alone. In the afternoon he\ncame upon a bridge of stone, where he found a knight that was bound\nwith a chain fast about unto a pillar of stone. This was Sir Persides,\na knight of the Table Round, who by adventure came this way and lodged\nin the castle at the bridge foot. There by an evil custom of the\ncastle men set upon him suddenly or ever he might come to his weapon,\nand bound him, and chained him at the bridge. There he knew he should\ndie unless some man of honour brake his bands.\n\"Be ye of good cheer,\" said Sir Percivale, \"and because ye are a knight\nof the Round Table as well as I, I trust to God to make you free.\"\nTherewith Sir Percivale drew out his sword, and struck at the chain\nwith such a might that he cut a-two the chain, and through Sir\nPersides' hauberk, and hurt him a little.\n\"Truly,\" said Sir Persides, \"that was a mighty stroke if ever I felt\none, for had it not been for the chain, ye had slain me.\"\nTherewithal Sir Persides saw a knight coming out of the castle, flying\nall that ever he might. \"Beware, sir,\" said he; \"yonder cometh a man\nthat will have ado with you.\"\n\"Let him come,\" said Sir Percivale.\nSo he met with that knight in the midst of the bridge, and gave him\nsuch a buffet that he smote him quite from his horse and over a part of\nthe bridge so that, had there not been a little vessel under the\nbridge, that knight had been drowned. Then Sir Percivale took the\nknight's horse, and made Sir Persides to mount upon him. So they rode\nto the castle, and made the lady deliver Sir Persides' servants.\nHad he not had a great matter in hand, he would have remained to do\naway with the evil customs there. But Sir Percivale might not long\nabide, for he rode to seek Sir Launcelot.\nSir Persides brought him unto his own castle, and there made him great\ncheer for that night. Then on the morn, when Sir Percivale had heard\nmass and broken his fast, he said to Sir Persides: \"Ride unto King\nArthur, and tell the King how that ye met with me, and tell my brother\nSir Aglovale how I rescued you, and bid him seek not after me, for I am\nin the quest to seek Sir Launcelot of the Lake, and will not see him or\nthe court till Sir Launcelot is found. Also tell Sir Kay and Sir\nMordred that I trust to God to be of as good worthiness as either of\nthem, and that I will never see that court till men speak more honour\nof me than ever men did of any of them both.\"\nSo Sir Persides departed from Sir Percivale, and rode unto King Arthur,\nand told there of Sir Percivale. And King Arthur said he must needs\nprove a good knight, for his father and his brethren were noble knights.\nNow turn we to Sir Launcelot, and speak we of his care and woe and what\npain he endured from cold, hunger, and thirst. As he wandered like a\nmad man here and there, he by fortune came to the castle of King\nPelles. There he was healed of his madness, and when he was recovered\nhe was sore ashamed that he had thus been clean out of his wit. And\nKing Pelles gave him his castle of Bliant, that stood in an island\nenclosed with a fair water, deep and large. Sir Launcelot called it\nthe Joyous Isle, and here he dwelt a long while. Because he was driven\nfrom King Arthur's court he desired not to be known, and he named\nhimself \"The knight that hath trespassed.\"\nNow it fell at that time that Sir Launcelot heard of a jousting hard by\nhis castle, and he sent word thither that there was one knight in the\nJoyous Isle, by name \"The knight that hath trespassed,\" that will joust\nagainst any knights that will come to him. When this cry was made,\nunto Joyous Isle drew many knights, and wit you well there was not seen\nat Arthur's court one knight that did so much deeds of arms as were\ndone in that gay castle.\nAnd in the meanwhile came also Sir Percivale nigh to Joyous Isle, and\nwould have gone to that castle, but might not for the broad water.\nThen he saw on the other side a lady, and he called unto her and asked\nwho was in that castle.\n\"Fair knight,\" she said, \"here within this castle is the fairest knight\nand the mightiest man that is, I dare say, living, and he calleth\nhimself 'The knight that hath trespassed.' He came into this country\nlike a mad man, with dogs and boys chasing him, and by miracle he was\nbrought into his wit again. If ye list to come into the castle, ye\nmust ride unto the farther side of the isle, and there ye shall find a\nvessel that will bear you and your horse.\"\nThen Sir Percivale came unto the vessel, and passed the water. When he\ncame to the castle gate, he bade the porter, \"Go thou to the good\nknight within the castle, and tell him here is come an errant knight to\njoust with him.\"\nSir Percivale now rode within the castle, and anon Sir Launcelot had\nwarning, he was soon ready. And there Sir Percivale and Sir Launcelot\nencountered with such a might that both the horses and the knights fell\nto the earth. Then they left their horses, swung out noble swords, and\nhewed away pieces of their shields, and dashed together like two boars,\nand either wounded other passing sore.\nAt the last Sir Percivale spake, when they had fought there more than\ntwo hours: \"Fair knight,\" saith he, \"I pray thee tell me thy name, for\nI met never with such a knight.\"\n\"Sir,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"my name is 'The knight that hath\ntrespassed.' Now tell me your name, I pray you, gentle knight.\"\n\"Truly,\" said Sir Percivale, \"my name is Sir Percivale of Galis; King\nPellinore was my father and Sir Aglovale is my brother.\"\n\"Alas,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"what have I done to fight with you that\nart a knight of the Table Round, that sometime was your fellow.\"\nTherewithal Sir Launcelot kneeled down upon his knees, and threw away\nhis shield and his sword from him. When Sir Percivale saw him do so,\nhe marvelled what he meant. Then he begged him upon the high order of\nknighthood to tell his true name, and Sir Launcelot told him all.\n\"Alas,\" said Sir Percivale, \"what have I done! I was sent by the Queen\nfor to seek you, and so I have sought you nigh these two years. I pray\nyou forgive me mine offence that I have here done.\"\n\"It is soon forgiven,\" said Sir Launcelot.\nThen Sir Percivale told him how King Arthur and all his knights, and in\nespecial Queen Guenever, made great dole and sorrow that ever he\ndeparted from them, and that never knight was better welcome back to\nthe court than he would be. So Sir Launcelot agreed to do after Sir\nPercivale's counsel, and ride with him to the King.\nSo then they took their horses and departed from the Joyous Isle, and\nwithin five days' journey they came to Camelot, that is called in\nEnglish Winchester. And when Sir Launcelot was come among them, the\nKing and all the knights made great joy of him. Then Sir Percivale of\nGalis began and told the whole adventures, and all the tales of Sir\nLauncelot. And the Queen made great cheer, and there were great feasts\nmade, and many great lords and ladies, when they heard that Sir\nLauncelot was come to the court again, made great joy.\nCHAPTER XXIV\nOF THE COMING OF SIR GALAHAD\nAt the vigil of Pentecost, when all the fellowship of the Round Table\nwere come unto Camelot, and the tables were set ready to the meat,\nright so entered into the hall a full fair gentlewoman before the King,\nand on behalf of King Pelles requested that Sir Launcelot should go\nwith her hereby into a forest. Sir Launcelot bade his squire saddle\nhis horse and bring his arms, and right so he departed with the\ngentlewoman, and rode until that he came into a great valley, where\nthey saw an abbey of nuns. There was a squire ready, and opened the\ngates; and so they entered and descended off their horses, and there\ncame a fair fellowship about Sir Launcelot and welcomed him, and were\npassing glad of his coming.\nIn the meanwhile there came twelve nuns which brought with them\nGalahad, the which was passing fair and well made, so that in the world\nmen might scarcely find his match. \"Sir,\" said the ladies, \"we bring\nyou here this child, the which we have nourished, and we pray you to\nmake him a knight; for of a worthier man's hand may he not receive the\norder of knighthood.\"\nSir Launcelot beheld that young squire, and saw him seemly and demure\nas a dove, with all manner of good features, and he thought of his age\nnever to have seen so fair a man of form. Then said Sir Launcelot,\n\"Cometh this desire of himself?\"\nHe and all they said, \"Yea.\"\n\"Then shall he,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"receive the high order of\nknighthood to-morrow.\"\nThat night Sir Launcelot had passing good cheer, and on the morn at the\nhour of prime, at Galahad's desire, he made him knight, and said, \"God\nmake you a good man, for beauty faileth you not as any that liveth.\"\nThen Sir Launcelot departed from them, and came again unto Camelot by\nthe hour of nine on Whitsunday morning. By that time the King and the\nQueen and all the fellowship were gone to the minster to hear the\nservice.\nWhen they were come from service all were passing glad of Sir\nLauncelot's return. And as they entered the hall each of the barons\nsought his name, written with gold letters, in the sieges of the Round\nTable. Thus they went along from seat to seat, until that they came to\nthe Siege Perilous, where they found letters newly written of gold,\nthat said: \"Four hundred winters and fifty-four accomplished after the\npassion of our Lord Jesu Christ ought this siege to be filled.\"\nAll thought this a marvellous thing, and an adventurous. And then Sir\nLauncelot accounted the term of the writing from the birth of our Lord\nunto that day, and said: \"It seemeth me this siege ought to be filled\nthis same day, for this is the feast of Pentecost after the four\nhundred and four and fifty years; and if it would please all parties, I\nwould none of these letters were seen this day, till he be come that\nought to achieve this adventure.\"\nThen they provided a cloth of silk for to cover these letters in the\nSiege Perilous, and the King bade haste unto dinner.\nIt was an old custom of Arthur's court that on this day they should not\nsit at their meat until they had seen some adventure. As they stood\nwaiting therefor, in came a squire bringing the marvellous tidings that\nbeneath at the river there was a great stone, as it were of red marble,\nfloating above the water, wherein a sword stuck. So the King and all\nthe knights went unto the river to see this marvel, and they found it\neven as the squire had said. There in the stone was the fair rich\nsword, and in the pommel thereof were precious stones and subtile\nletters wrought with gold. Then the barons read the letters, which\nsaid in this wise: \"Never shall man take me hence but only he by whose\nside I ought to hang, and he shall be the best knight of the world.\"\nWhen the King had seen these letters, he said unto Sir Launcelot, \"Fair\nsir, this sword ought to be yours, for I am sure ye be the best knight\nof the world.\"\nThen Sir Launcelot answered full soberly, conscious of a great sin:\n\"Certes, sir, it is not my sword; also, sir, wit ye well I have no\nhardiness to set my hand thereto, for it belongs not by my side.\"\n\"Now, fair nephew,\" said the King unto Sir Gawaine, \"assay ye to take\nthe sword for my love.\"\nTherewith Sir Gawaine took the sword by the handles, though unwillingly\nand only at the King's commandment, but he might not stir it. Then the\nKing said unto Sir Percivale that he should assay. So he set his hand\non the sword and drew it strongly, but he might not move it. Then were\nthere more that durst be so hardy as to set their hands thereto, but\nall failed.\n\"Now may ye go to your dinner,\" said Sir Kay unto King Arthur, \"for a\nmarvellous adventure have ye seen.\"\nSo the King and all went in, and every knight knew his own place and\nset himself therein, and all sieges were filled save only the Siege\nPerilous. Anon there befell a marvellous adventure, for all the doors\nand the windows of the place shut of themselves, yet then the hall was\nnot greatly darkened, and therewith they were amazed, both one and\nother.\nWhile they sat there in suspense as to what should happen, came in a\ngood old man, and an ancient, clothed all in white, and there was no\nknight knew from whence he came. With him he brought a young knight in\nred arms, without sword or shield, save a scabbard hanging by his side.\nThen the old man said unto Arthur, \"Sir, I bring here a young knight\nthe which is of king's lineage and of the kindred of Joseph of\nArimathea, whereby the marvels of this court and of strange realms\nshall be fully accomplished.\"\nThe King was right glad of the good man's words, and bade him and the\nyoung knight welcome. Then the old man made the young man unarm; and\nhe was in a coat of red silk, and bore a mantle upon his shoulder that\nwas furred with ermine. Anon the old knight led him unto the Siege\nPerilous, where beside sat Sir Percivale and Sir Launcelot. The good\nman lifted up the cloth, and found there letters that said thus: \"This\nis the siege of Galahad, the high prince.\" He set him down surely in\nthat siege, saying, \"Wit ye well that place is yours,\" and then,\ndeparted and went his way.\nAll the knights of the Table Round marvelled greatly that Sir Galahad\ndurst sit there in that Siege Perilous, and was so tender of age; for\nnever before had anyone sat therein but he was mischieved. And they\nforesaw that Sir Galahad would come to great honour, and outdo them all\nin knightly courtesy.\nThen the King bade him welcome to the court, and taking him by the\nhand, went down from the palace to show Galahad the adventures of the\nstone. \"Sir\" said the King unto him, \"here is a great marvel as ever I\nsaw, and right good knights have assayed and failed.\"\n\"Sir,\" said Galahad, \"that is no marvel, for this adventure is not\ntheirs but mine, and for the surety of this sword I brought none with\nme; for here by my side hangeth the scabbard.\"\nAnon he laid his hand on the sword, and lightly drew it out of the\nstone and put it in the sheath, saying, \"Now it goeth better than it\ndid aforehand.\"\nCHAPTER XXV\nHOW THE QUEST OF THE HOLY GRAIL WAS BEGUN\nThe dish from which our Lord Jesu Christ ate the paschal lamb at His\nlast supper with His disciples men call the Holy Grail. Therein also\nJoseph of Arimathea caught the last drops of sacred blood, and after\nthe passion of our Lord that gentle knight, the which took down the\nbody off the holy cross, at that time departed from Jerusalem with a\ngreat party of his kindred, bearing the Holy Grail with them.\nIt befell that they came first to a city that was called Sarras, and at\nthe last they crossed to Britain, and through them all the heathen\npeople of this land were turned to the Christian faith.\nEver as years went by the Holy Grail became more precious, and the\npossession of it ever more a sacred trust. But after a long while it\nwas lost from the world through men's sinfulness, and only those of\npure heart and life might from time to time see it.\nMerlin, before he was put under the stone, had foreseen that by them\nwhich should be fellows of the Round Table the truth of the Holy Grail\nwould be well known, and in the good days of King Arthur the longing\ngrew to be worthy of the vision of this sign of the Lord's presence\namong men. Moreover a holy hermit had said that, when the Siege\nPerilous was filled, the achieving of the Holy Grail should be near.\nAfter Galahad drew the sword out of the stone the King and all estates\nwent thoughtful home unto Camelot, and so to even-song in the great\nminster. After that they went to supper, and every knight sat in his\nown place at the Round Table. Then anon they heard cracking and crying\nof thunder that should, as it seemed to them, shake the place all to\npieces. In the midst of this blast entered a sunbeam more clear by\nseven times than ever they saw day, and all they were alighted of the\ngrace of the Holy Ghost.\nThen began every knight to behold other, and either saw other by their\nseeming fairer than ever they looked afore. There was no knight might\nspeak one word, and so they looked every man on his fellows, as if they\nwere dumb. Then there entered into the hall the Holy Grail, covered\nwith white samite, but there was none might see it, or who bare it.\nAnd there was all the hall filled full with good odours, and every\nknight was nourished in his soul. When the Holy Grail had been borne\nthrough the hall, then it departed suddenly, so that they wist not what\nbecame of it.\nThen had they all breath to speak, and the King yielded thankings unto\nGod for His good grace that He had sent them. \"Now,\" said Sir Gawaine,\n\"we have been richly blessed this day, but one thing beguiled us,--we\nmight not see the Holy Grail, it was so preciously covered. Wherefore\nI will make here avow, that to-morn, without longer abiding, I shall\nlabour in the quest of the Holy Grail a twelvemonth and a day, or more\nif need be, and shall not return unto the court till I have seen it\nmore openly than it hath been seen here; and if I may not speed, I\nshall return again at the end of the time as he that may not be against\nthe will of our Lord Jesu Christ.\"\nWhen they of the Table Round heard Sir Gawaine say so, the most part of\nthem arose, and made such avows as Sir Gawaine had made. Anon as King\nArthur heard this he was greatly grieved, for he wist well that they\nmight not gainsay their avows, and he should be bereft of the fairest\nfellowship and the truest knighthood that ever were seen together in\nany realm of the world. For, when they departed from hence, they\nshould never all meet again in this world, and many of his true\nfellowship of noble knights should die in the quest.\nWhen the Queen also and all the court wist these tidings, they had such\nsorrow and heaviness that there might no tongue tell it. Many of the\nladies would have gone with the knights that they loved, had not an old\nman in religious clothing said on high that none in this quest should\nlead wife with him. Moreover he warned the knights plainly that he\nthat was not clean of his sins should not see the mysteries of our Lord\nJesu Christ. Then they went to rest themselves, and in honour of the\nhighness of Galahad he was led into King Arthur's chamber, and there\nrested in his own bed.\nAs soon as it was day the King arose, for he had no rest all that night\nfor sorrow. Then the King and the Queen went unto the minster, and all\nthe knights, armed fully save their shields and their helms, followed\nthem to hear the service.\nThen after the service was done, the King would wit how many had taken\nthe quest of the Holy Grail, and found by tale there were an hundred\nand fifty, all knights of the Round Table. Then they put on their\nhelms, and so mounted upon their horses, and rode through the streets\nof Camelot. And there was weeping of rich and poor, and the King\nturned away, and might not speak for weeping.\nWithin a while they came to a city and a castle called Vagon. The lord\nof that castle was a good old man and set open the gates, and made them\nall the good cheer that he might. On the morrow they were all accorded\nthat they should ride every each from other. Then they departed with\nweeping and mourning cheer, and every knight took the way that him best\nliked.\nCHAPTER XXVI\nHOW GALAHAD GAT HIM A SHIELD\nNow Sir Galahad was yet without shield, and so he rode four days\nwithout any adventure. After even-song of the fourth day he came to a\nwhite abbey, and there he was received with great reverence, and led to\na chamber wherein he was ware of two knights of the Round Table, the\none King Bagdemagus and the other Sir Uwaine. They went unto him and\nmade of him great solace; and they told him that within this place was\na shield that no man might bear about his neck without great harm to\nhimself, unless he were the worthiest knight of the world.\n[Illustration: Sir Galahad]\n\"Ah, sir,\" said King Bagdemagus to Galahad, \"I shall to-morrow assay\nthis strange adventure, and if I may not achieve it ye shall take it\nupon you, for I am sure ye shall not fail.\"\n\"Sir,\" said Galahad, \"I agree right well thereto, for I have no shield.\"\nSo on the morn they arose and heard mass. Then King Bagdemagus asked\nwhere the adventurous shield was. Anon a monk led him behind an altar,\nwhere the shield hung as white as any snow, but in the midst was a red\ncross. The monk counselled him to be well advised before taking it,\nand King Bagdemagus answered:\n\"Well, I wot well that I am not the best knight of the world, but yet\nshall I assay to bear it.\"\nAnd so, bidding Sir Galahad to abide there still, till it was known how\nhe sped, King Bagdemagus bore the red cross shield out of the\nmonastery, took with him a squire, the which should bring tidings unto\nSir Galahad how he sped, and rode away.\nTwo miles off they came into a fair valley afore a hermitage, and there\nthey saw a goodly knight in white armour, horse and all. He came as\nfast as his horse might run, with his spear in the rest, and King\nBagdemagus dressed his spear against him, and brake it upon the White\nKnight. The other struck him so hard that he brake the mails, and\nthrust him through the right shoulder, for the shield covered him not\nat that time, and so he bare him from his horse.\nTherewith the White Knight alighted and took the white shield from King\nBagdemagus, saying, \"Knight, thou hast done thyself great folly, for\nthis shield ought not to be borne but by him that shall have no peer\nthat liveth.\" Then he came to the squire, and said, \"Bear this shield\nunto the good knight Sir Galahad, that thou left in the abbey, and\ngreet him well from me.\"\nThe squire first went unto Bagdemagus, and asked him whether he were\nsore wounded or not. \"Yea, forsooth,\" said he, \"I shall escape hard\nfrom death.\" Then the squire fetched his horse, and brought him with\ngreat pain unto an abbey. Then was he taken down safely, and unarmed,\nand laid in a bed. There his wounds were looked to, and, as the book\ntelleth, he lay there long, and escaped hard with life.\n\"Sir,\" said the squire, when he came to Galahad, \"that knight that\nwounded Bagdemagus sendeth you greeting, and bade that ye should bear\nthis shield, wherethrough great adventures should befall.\"\n\"Now blessed be God,\" said Sir Galahad. Then he asked his arms,\nmounted upon his horse, and, commending himself unto God, hung the\nwhite shield about his neck. So he departed, and within a while came\nby the hermitage, where the White Knight awaited him. Every each\nsaluted other courteously, and the knight told Sir Galahad the marvels\nof the shield.\n\"Sir,\" said he, \"at that same hour that Joseph of Arimathea came to\nSarras, there was a king in that city called Evelake, that had great\nwar against the Saracens, and there Joseph made this shield for him in\nthe name of Him that died upon the cross. Then through his good belief\nhe had the better of his enemies; for when King Evelake was in the\nbattle, there was a cloth set afore the shield, and when he was in the\ngreatest peril he let put away the cloth, and then his enemies saw a\nfigure of a man on the cross, wherethrough they all were discomfited.\n\"Soon afterwards Joseph departed from Sarras, and King Evelake would go\nwith him whether he would or nould, and they came unto this land of\nBritain. Not long after this, when Joseph lay on his death-bed, King\nEvelake begged of him some token that would lead him to think on the\nold knight for love of whom he had left his own country. So Joseph\ntook this shield, and thereupon he made a cross with his own blood;\nthat should be Evelake's token. Then he said that no man should bear\nthis shield until the time that Galahad come, the last of Joseph's\nlineage, that should do many marvellous deeds while bearing it about\nhis neck. To-day is the time they then set when ye shall have King\nEvelake's shield.\"\nSo spake the White Knight, and then vanished away; and Sir Galahad rode\nwith the squire back to the abbey.\nCHAPTER XXVII\nSIR GALAHAD AT THE CASTLE OF MAIDENS\nThe men of the abbey made great joy of Sir Galahad, and he rested there\nthat night. Upon the morn he gave the order of knighthood to the\nsquire who had brought him the red-cross shield, and asked him his\nname, and of what kindred he was come.\n\"Sir,\" said he, \"men call me Melias of Lile, and I am the son of the\nKing of Denmark.\"\n\"Now, fair sir,\" said Galahad, \"since ye are of noble birth, see that\nknighthood be well placed in you, for ye ought to be a mirror unto all\nchivalry.\"\n\"Sir,\" said Melias, \"ye say truly. But, sir, since ye have made me a\nknight, ye must of right grant me my first desire that is reasonable.\"\n\"Ye say truly,\" said Galahad.\nThen Melias said, \"Suffer me to ride with you in this quest of the Holy\nGrail till some adventure part us.\"\n\"I grant you, sir,\" said Galahad.\nThen men brought Sir Melias his armour and his spear and his horse; and\nso Sir Galahad and he rode forth all that week ere they found any\nadventure. And then upon a Monday, in the morning, as they had\ndeparted from an abbey, they came to a fork in the road, where stood\nwritten these words: \"Now ye knights errant, who go to seek knights\nadventurous, see here two ways; the right-hand road ye are warned\nagainst, for knight shall never ride out of that place again unless he\nbe a good man and a worthy knight; and if ye go to the left hand ye\nshall not there easily win prowess, for ye shall in this road be soon\nattacked.\"\n\"Sir,\" said Melias to Galahad, \"if ye are pleased to suffer me to take\nthe way on the left hand, tell me, for there I shall well prove my\nstrength.\"\n\"It were better,\" said Galahad, \"ye rode not that way, for I believe I\nshould better escape in that way than ye.\"\n\"Nay, my lord,\" said Melias, \"I pray you, let me have that adventure.\"\n\"Take it, in God's name,\" said Galahad.\nSo Melias rode far through an old forest, and after two days or more\ncame into a fair meadow. Here in a fair lodge of boughs he espied a\nchair wherein was a subtilely-wrought crown of gold, and near by was a\ncloth spread upon the ground with many delicious meats upon it. Sir\nMelias had no desire for the food, but the crown of gold pleased him\nmuch, so he stooped down and took it and rode his way with it. And\nanon he saw a knight come riding after him, who called upon him to set\ndown the crown that was not his, and to defend himself.\nThe new-made knight was glad of this adventure, and the two let their\nhorses run as fast as they might, so that the other knight smote Sir\nMelias through his hauberk and through the left side, and he fell to\nthe earth nigh dead. Then the knight took the crown and went his way,\nand Sir Melias lay still, and had no power to stir. In the meanwhile\nby good fortune there came Sir Galahad and found him there in peril of\ndeath.\nThen he said, \"Ah, Melias, who hath wounded you? It would have been\nbetter to ride the other way.\"\nAnd when Sir Melias heard him speak, \"Sir,\" he said, \"for God's love\nlet me not die in this forest, but bear me unto the abbey near at hand.\"\n\"It shall be done,\" said Galahad, \"but where is he that hath wounded\nyou?\"\nWith that Sir Galahad heard some one cry, \"Knight, keep thee from me!\"\n\"Ah, sir,\" said Melias, \"beware, for that is he that hath slain me.\"\nSir Galahad answered, \"Sir knight, come at your peril.\"\nSo they came together as fast as their horses might run; and Galahad\nsmote the other so that his spear went through the knight's shoulder\nand smote him down off his horse, and in the falling Galahad's spear\nbrake. With that came out another knight from the leaves, and brake a\nspear upon Galahad before he might turn about. Then Galahad drew out\nhis sword and smote this one so that he fled away, and Sir Galahad\npursued fast after him. But soon he turned again unto Sir Melias, and\nthere he alighted and placed him softly on his horse before him, and\nSir Galahad climbed up behind, and held him in his arms, and so brought\nhim to the abbey and into his chamber. Here he placed the wounded\nknight in the care of an old monk, that promised to heal him of his\nwounds.\n\"Now I will depart,\" said Galahad, \"for I have much on hand; many good\nknights be full busy about it, and this knight and I were in the same\nquest of the Holy Grail.\"\n\"Sir,\" said the good monk, \"for his sins he was thus wounded; and I\nmarvel,\" said he to Melias, \"how ye durst take upon you so rich a thing\nas the high order of knighthood without clean confession, and that was\nthe cause ye were bitterly wounded. For the way on the right hand\nbetokeneth the high way of our Lord Jesu Christ, and the way of a true\ngood liver. And the other way betokeneth the way of sinners and of\nmisbelievers. Your pride and presumption in taking the quest of the\nblessed Holy Grail made you to be overthrown, for it may not be\nachieved but by virtuous living. Pride is head of all deadly sins, and\nthat caused you to depart from Sir Galahad. And when ye took the crown\nof gold your sin was covetousness and theft. But this Galahad, the\nholy knight, the which fought with the two knights that signify the two\ndeadly sins which were wholly in you, was able to overthrow them, for\nhe is pure in his heart.\"\n\"My lord Galahad,\" said Sir Melias, \"as soon as I may ride I shall seek\nyou.\"\n\"God send you health,\" said Galahad, and so he took his horse and\ndeparted, and rode many journeys forward and backward, as adventure\nwould lead him.\nThen Sir Galahad came unto a mountain. There he found an old chapel,\nwhere all was desolate, and he knelt before the altar and besought of\nGod wholesome counsel. As he prayed, he heard a voice that said, \"Go\nthou now, thou adventurous knight, to the Castle of Maidens, and there\ndo thou away the wicked customs.\"\nWhen Sir Galahad heard this, he thanked God and took his horse, and he\nhad ridden but half a mile when he saw in a valley afore him a strong\ncastle with deep ditches, and there ran beside it a fair river, that\nwas called Severn. Then he met with a man of great age. Either\nsaluted other, and Galahad asked him the castle's name. \"Fair sir,\"\nsaid he, \"it is the Castle of Maidens.\"\n\"That is a cursed castle,\" said Galahad, \"and all who have intercourse\ntherein are cursed, for all pity is lacking there, and all cruelty and\nmischief are therein.\"\n\"Therefore I counsel you, sir knight,\" said the other, \"that ye turn\nback.\"\n\"Sir,\" said Sir Galahad, \"ye may be sure I shall not turn back.\"\nThen Sir Galahad looked on his armour to see that nothing was lacking,\nand he put his shield afore him, and anon there met him seven fair\nmaidens, which said unto him, \"Sir knight, ye ride here in great folly,\nfor ye have the water to pass over.\"\n\"Why should I not pass the water?\" said Galahad. So he rode away from\nthem, and met with a squire, who said. \"Knight, those knights in the\ncastle defy you, and forbid you to go farther till they know what ye\nwould.\"\n\"Fair sir,\" said Galahad, \"I come to destroy the wicked customs of this\ncastle.\"\n\"Sir,\" said the squire, \"if ye will abide by that, ye shall have enough\nto do.\"\nThe squire entered into the castle, and anon there came out seven\nknights, all brethren. And when they saw Galahad they cried, \"Knight,\ndefend thyself, for we assure thee nothing but death.\"\nThen Galahad put forth his spear, and smote the foremost to the earth.\nAnd therewith all the others smote him on his shield great strokes so\nthat their spears brake. Then Sir Galahad drew out his sword, and set\nupon them so hard that it was marvel to see it, and so, through great\nforce, he made them to forsake the field. Galahad chased them till\nthey entered into the castle, and then passed through the castle and\nout at another gate.\nNow there met Sir Galahad an old man, who said, \"Sir, have here the\nkeys of this castle.\"\nThen Sir Galahad opened the gates, and saw so many people in the\npassages that he might not number them, and all said, \"Sir, ye be\nwelcome, for long have we awaited here our deliverance.\"\nThen came to him a gentlewoman, and said, \"These knights are fled, but\nthey will come again this night, and here begin again their evil\npractices.\"\n\"What will ye that I shall do?\" said Galahad.\n\"Sir,\" said the gentlewoman, \"that ye send after all the knights hither\nthat hold their lands of this castle, and make them to swear to use the\ncustoms that were used heretofore of old time.\"\n\"I will well,\" said Galahad.\nShe brought him a horn of ivory, richly bound with gold, and said,\n\"Sir, blow this horn, which will be heard two miles about this castle.\"\nWhen Sir Galahad had blown the horn he set himself down upon a bed.\nThen a priest came and told him of the evil practices of the castle,\nand why it was called the Castle of Maidens. \"It chanced in this\nwise,\" said he: \"More than seven years agone the seven brethren came,\nand lodged with the lord of this castle and of all the country round\nabout. When they espied the duke's daughter, a full fair woman, they\nplotted falsely betwixt themselves and slew the duke and his eldest\nson. Then they took the maiden and the treasure of the castle, and by\ngreat force they held all the knights of this castle against their will\nunder their power in great slavery, and robbed and pillaged the poor\ncommon people of all that they had. Then it happened on a day the\nduke's daughter said, 'Ye have done unto me great wrong to slay my own\nfather and my brother, and thus to hold our lands. But ye shall not\nhold this castle many years, for by one knight ye shall be overcome.'\nThus she had prophesied seven years agone.\n\"'Well,' said the seven knights, 'if that be so, there shall never lady\nnor knight pass by this castle but they shall abide here, whether they\nwill or not, or die for it, till that knight be come by whom we shall\nlose this castle.' Therefore it is called the Maidens' Castle, for\nmany maidens have here been destroyed.\"\nBy the time the priest had finished, the knights of the country were\ncome at the call from the ivory horn. Then Sir Galahad made them do\nhomage and fealty to the duke's daughter, and set the people in great\nease of heart.\nAnd the next morning one came to Galahad and told him how Gawaine,\nGareth, and Uwaine had slain the seven brethren. \"I am glad to hear\nit,\" said Sir Galahad, and he took his armour, mounted his horse, and\ncommended the people of the Castle of Maidens unto God, and so rode\naway.\nCHAPTER XXVIII\nSIR LAUNCELOT'S REPENTANCE\nWhen Sir Galahad was departed from the Castle of Maidens, he rode till\nhe came to a waste forest, and there he met with Sir Launcelot and Sir\nPercivale, but they knew him not, for he was new disguised. Right so,\nSir Launcelot dressed his spear, and brake it upon Sir Galahad; and Sir\nGalahad smote him so again, that he smote down horse and man. Then he\ndrew his sword, and dressed him unto Sir Percivale, and smote him so on\nthe helm that, had not the sword swerved, Sir Percivale had been slain,\nand with the stroke he fell out of his saddle.\nThis joust was done tofore the hermitage where a recluse dwelt, and,\nwhen she saw Sir Galahad ride, she said, \"God be with thee, best knight\nof the world. Ah, verily, if yonder two knights had known thee as well\nas I do, they would not have encountered with thee.\"\nWhen Sir Galahad heard her say so, he was sore adread to be known.\nTherefore he smote his horse with his spurs, and rode at a great pace\naway from them. Then perceived they both that he was Galahad, and up\nthey gat on their horses, and rode fast after him, but in a while he\nwas out of their sight. Then they turned again with heavy cheer, and\nSir Percivale said, \"Let us ask some tidings at yonder recluse.\"\n\"Do as ye list,\" said Sir Launcelot. So Sir Percivale turned back, but\nSir Launcelot rode on across and endlong in a wild forest, and held no\npath, but as wild adventure led him. At last he came to a stone cross,\nwhich pointed two ways, and by the cross was a stone that was of\nmarble; but it was so dark that he might not wit what it was.\nSir Launcelot looked about him, and saw an old chapel. There he\nexpected to find people, so he tied his horse, and took off his shield\nand hung it upon a tree. Then he went to the chapel door, and found it\nwaste and broken. Within he saw a fair altar full richly arrayed with\ncloth of clean silk, and there stood a fair clean candlestick of silver\nwhich bare six great candles.\nWhen Sir Launcelot saw this light, he had great will to enter into the\nchapel, but he could find no place where he might enter. Then was he\npassing heavy and dismayed. He returned to his horse, took off his\nsaddle and bridle, and let him pasture. Then he unlaced his helm, and\nungirded his sword, and laid himself down to sleep upon his shield\ntofore the cross.\n[Illustration: Sir Launcelot at the Cross]\nSo he fell on sleep, and half waking and half sleeping he saw in a\nvision two fair white palfreys come toward him, bearing in a litter a\nsick knight. When he was nigh the cross he abode still, and Sir\nLauncelot heard him say, \"Oh, sweet Lord, when shall this sorrow leave\nme? and when shall the holy vessel come by me, wherethrough I shall be\nblessed? For I have endured thus long for little trespass.\"\nA full great while lamented the knight thus, and always Sir Launcelot\nheard it. Then he saw the candlestick with the six tapers come before\nthe cross, yet he saw nobody that brought it. Also there came a table\nof silver, and the sacred vessel of the Holy Grail upon it.\nTherewith the sick knight sat up, and, holding up both hands, he prayed\nthat he might be whole of his malady. Then on his hands and knees he\nwent so nigh that he touched the holy vessel, and kissed it, and anon\nhe was whole. Then he said, \"Lord God, I thank thee, for I am healed\nof this sickness.\"\nWhen the holy vessel had been there a great while, it went unto the\nchapel, with the candlestick and the light, so that Launcelot wist not\nwhat became of it, for he was overtaken with a feeling of his sin, so\nthat he had no power to arise and follow the holy vessel.\nThen the sick knight raised himself up, and kissed the cross. Anon his\nsquire brought him his arms, and asked his lord how he did. \"Verily,\"\nsaid he, \"I thank God, right well; through the holy vessel I am healed.\nBut I have great marvel of this sleeping knight, that had no power to\nawake when the Holy Grail was brought hither.\"\n\"I dare right well say,\" said the squire, \"that he dwelleth in some\ndeadly sin, whereof he has never repented.\"\n\"By my faith,\" said the knight, \"whatsoever he be, he is unhappy, for,\nas I deem, he is of the fellowship of the Round Table, the which is\nentered into the quest of the Holy Grail.\"\n\"Sir,\" said the squire, \"here I have brought you all your arms, save\nyour helm and your sword. By my assent now may ye take this knight's\nhelm and his sword.\"\nSo he did, and when he was clean armed, he took Sir Launcelot's horse,\nfor he was better than his own, and so they departed from the cross.\nAnon Sir Launcelot awoke, and bethought him what he had seen there, and\nwhether it were a dream or not. Right so heard he a voice that said:\n\"Sir Launcelot, more hard than is stone, more bitter than is wood, and\nmore naked and barer than is the fig tree, go thou from hence, and\nwithdraw thee from this holy place.\"\nWhen Sir Launcelot heard this he was passing heavy, and wist not what\nto do. So he arose, sore weeping, and cursed the time when he was\nborn, for he thought never to have honour more. Then he went to the\ncross, and found his helm, his sword, and his horse taken away. Then\nhe called himself a very wretch, and the most unhappy of all knights.\nAnd he said: \"My sin and my wickedness have brought me unto great\ndishonour. When I sought worldly adventures from worldly desires, I\never achieved them, and had the better in every place, and never was I\ndiscomfited in any quarrel, were it right or wrong. But now when I\ntake upon me the adventures of holy things, I see and understand that\nmine old sin hindereth and shameth me, so that I had no power to stir\nor to speak when the Holy Grail appeared afore me.\"\nThus he sorrowed till it was day, and he heard the birds sing. Then\nsomewhat he was comforted, but, when he missed his horse and his\nharness, he wist well God was displeased with him. He departed from\nthe cross on foot into a forest, and came to a hermitage, and a hermit\ntherein. There Launcelot kneeled down and cried on the Lord for mercy,\nand begged the hermit for charity to hear his confession.\n\"With a good will,\" said the good man; \"art thou of King Arthur's\ncourt, and of the fellowship of the Round Table?\"\n\"Yea, forsooth,\" was the answer, \"and my name is Sir Launcelot of the\nLake, that hath been right well said of; but now my good fortune is\nchanged, for I am the worst wretch of the world.\"\nThe hermit beheld him, and had marvel how he was humbled.\n\"Sir,\" said he, \"thou oughtest to thank God more than any knight\nliving, for He hath caused thee to have more worldly honour than any\nother knight that now liveth. For thy presumption in taking upon thee,\nwhile in deadly sin, to be in His presence through the sacred vessel,\nthat was the cause that thou mightest not see it with worldly eyes, for\nHe will not appear where such sinners be, unless to their great hurt\nand shame. There is no knight living now that ought to give God so\ngreat thanks as thou; for He hath given thee beauty, seemliness, and\ngreat strength, above all other knights. Therefore thou art the more\nbeholden unto God than any other man to love Him and fear Him; for thy\nstrength and manhood will little avail thee if God be against thee.\"\nThen Sir Launcelot wept with heavy cheer, for he knew the hermit said\nsooth.\n\"Sir,\" said the good man, \"hide none old sin from me.\"\n\"Truly,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"that were me full loath to disclose, for\none thing that I have done I never disclosed these fourteen years, and\nfor that may I now blame my shamelessness and my misadventure.\"\nThen he told there that good man all his life, and how he had loved a\nqueen unmeasurably, and out of measure long. \"And,\" said he, \"all my\ngreat deeds of arms that I have done, I did the most part for that\nqueen's sake. For her sake would I battle, were it right or wrong; and\nnever did I battle wholly for God's sake, but for to win honour and to\nmake myself better beloved, and little or naught I thanked God for it.\nI pray you counsel me.\"\n\"I will counsel thee,\" said the hermit, \"if thou wilt assure me that\nthou wilt never come into that queen's companionship when thou canst\nprevent it.\" This Sir Launcelot solemnly promised, whereupon the good\nman said, \"Look that thy heart and mouth accord, and I assure thee that\nthou shalt have more honour than ever thou hadst. For it seemeth well\nGod loveth thee, and in all the world men shall not find one knight to\nwhom He hath given so much grace as He hath given thee; He hath given\nthee beauty with seemliness; He hath given thee wit, discretion to know\ngood from evil; He hath given thee prowess and hardiness; and He hath\ngiven thee to work so largely that thou hast had at all times the\nbetter wheresoever thou camest. And now our Lord will suffer thee no\nlonger, but that thou shalt know Him, whether thou wilt or nilt.\n\"Why the voice called thee bitterer than wood was because, where\novermuch sin dwelleth, there may be but little sweetness; wherefore\nthou art likened to an old rotten tree. Why thou art harder than stone\nis because thou wilt not leave thy sin for any goodness that God hath\nsent thee; therefore thou art more than any stone, and never wouldest\nthou be made soft, neither by water nor by fire,--that is, the heat of\nthe Holy Ghost may not enter in thee.\n\"Now shall I show thee why thou art more naked and barer than the fig\ntree. It befell that our Lord on Palm Sunday preached in Jerusalem,\nand there He found in the people that all hardness was harboured in\nthem, and there He found in all the town not one that would harbour\nHim. And then He went without the town, and found in the midst of the\nway a fig tree, the which was right fair and well garnished of leaves,\nbut fruit had it none. Then our Lord cursed the tree that bare no\nfruit; that likeneth the fig tree unto Jerusalem, that had leaves and\nno fruit. So thou, Sir Launcelot, when the Holy Grail was brought\nafore thee, He found in thee no fruit, nor good thought, nor good will,\nand thou wert befouled with sin.\"\n\"Verily,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"all that ye have said is true, and from\nhenceforward I undertake by the grace of God never to be so wicked as I\nhave been, but to follow knighthood and to do feats of arms.\"\nThen the good man enjoined Sir Launcelot to such penance as he might\ndo, and to sue knighthood, and so blessed him, and prayed him to abide\nthere all that day. \"I will well,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"for I have\nneither helm, nor horse, nor sword.\"\n\"As for that,\" said the good man, \"I shall help you ere to-morn to a\nhorse and all that belongeth unto you.\" And so Sir Launcelot repented\nhim greatly.\nCHAPTER XXIX\nSIR PERCIVALE'S TEMPTATION\nWhen Sir Percivale departed from the recluse to seek Sir Galahad, he\nrode till the hour of noon, when he met in a valley about twenty men of\narms. As they saw him they asked him whence he was, and he answered,\n\"Of the court of King Arthur.\" Then they cried all at once, \"Slay\nhim.\" Then Sir Percivale smote the first to the earth, and his horse\nupon him. Thereupon seven of the knights smote upon his shield all at\nonce, and the remnant slew his horse, so that he fell to the earth.\nSo had they slain him or taken him, had not the good knight Sir\nGalahad, with the red arms, come there by adventure into those parts.\nAnd when he saw all those knights upon one knight, he cried, \"Save me\nthat knight's life.\" Then he dressed him towards the twenty men of\narms as fast as his horse might drive, with his spear in the rest, and\nsmote the foremost horse and man to the earth. And when his spear was\nbroken he set his hand to his sword, and smote on the right hand and on\nthe left hand, that it was marvel to see. At every stroke he smote one\ndown, or put him to rebuke, so that they would fight no more, but fled\nto a thick forest, and Sir Galahad followed them.\nWhen Sir Percivale saw him chase them so, he made great sorrow that his\nhorse was away, for he wist well it was Sir Galahad. Then he cried\naloud, \"Ah, fair knight, abide and suffer me to do thankings unto thee,\nfor much have ye done for me!\"\nBut ever Sir Galahad rode so fast, that at the last he passed out of\nhis sight, and Sir Percivale went after him on foot as fast as he\nmight. Soon he met a yeoman riding upon a hackney, who led in his hand\na great black steed, blacker than any bear.\n\"Ah, fair friend,\" said Sir Percivale, \"as ever I may do for you and be\nyour true knight in the first place ye will require me, I beg ye will\nlend me that black steed, that I may overtake a knight, the which\nrideth afore me.\"\n\"Sir knight,\" said the yeoman, \"I pray you hold me excused of that, for\nthat I may not do; for wit ye well, the horse belongs to a man that, if\nI lent it you or any other man, would slay me.\"\n\"Alas,\" said Sir Percivale, \"I had never so great sorrow as I have for\nlosing of yonder knight.\"\n\"Sir,\" said the yeoman, \"I am right heavy for you, for a good horse\nwould beseem you well, but I dare not deliver you this horse unless ye\ntake it from me.\"\n\"That will I not do,\" said Sir Percivale.\nSo they departed, and Sir Percivale sat him down under a tree, and made\nsorrow out of measure. Anon the yeoman came pricking after as fast as\never he might, and asked Sir Percivale, \"Saw ye, sir, any knight riding\non my black steed? It hath been taken from me by force, wherefore my\nlord will slay me in what place he findeth me.\"\n\"Well,\" said Sir Percivale, \"what wouldest thou that I did? Thou seest\nwell that I am on foot, but had I a good horse I should bring him soon\nagain.\"\n\"Sir,\" said the yeoman, \"take my hackney and do the best ye can, and I\nshall follow you on foot, to wit how that ye shall speed.\"\nThen Sir Percivale mounted upon that hackney, and rode as fast as he\nmight. At the last he saw the knight on the black steed, and cried out\nto him to turn again. And he turned, and set his spear against Sir\nPercivale; and he smote the hackney in the midst of the breast, that he\nfell down dead to the earth. There Sir Percivale had a great fall, and\nthe other rode his way.\nSir Percivale was very wroth, and cried, \"Abide, wicked knight, coward\nand false-hearted knight, turn again and fight with me on foot.\"\nHe answered not, but passed on his way. When Sir Percivale saw he\nwould not turn, he cast away his helm and sword, and thought himself\nunhappy above all other knights.\nIn this sorrow he abode all that day till it was night. Then he was\nfaint, and laid him down and slept till it was midnight. Then he\nawaked, and saw afore him a woman which said unto him right fiercely,\n\"Sir Percivale, abide here, and I shall go fetch you a horse, which\nshall bear you whither you will.\"\nSo she came soon again, and brought a horse with her that was inky\nblack. When Sir Percivale beheld that horse, he marvelled that it was\nso great and so well apparelled. Courageously he leaped upon him, and\ntook no heed of himself. As soon as ever he was mounted he thrust in\nthe spurs, and so rode away by the forest, and the moon shone clear.\nWithin an hour, and less, the black steed bare him four day's journey\nthence, till he came to a rough water the which roared, and his horse\nwould have borne him into it. And when Sir Percivale came nigh the\nbrim, and saw the water so boisterous, he feared to overpass it. Then\nhe made a sign of the cross in his forehead, whereupon the horse shook\noff Sir Percivale, and he fell into the water, crying and roaring,\nmaking great sorrow; and it seemed unto him that the water burned.\nThen Sir Percivale perceived the steed was a fiend, the which would\nhave brought him unto his perdition. Then he commended himself unto\nGod, and prayed our Lord to keep him from all such temptations.\nSo he prayed all that night till it was day. Then he saw that he was\nin a wild mountain the which was closed with the sea nigh all about, so\nthat he might see no land about him which might relieve him. Then was\nSir Percivale ware in the sea, and saw a ship come sailing towards him;\nand he went unto the ship, and found it covered within and without with\nwhite samite. At the board stood an old man clothed in a surplice in\nlikeness of a priest.\n\"Sir,\" said Sir Percivale, \"ye be welcome.\"\n\"God keep you,\" said the good man, \"of whence be ye?\"\n\"Sir,\" said Sir Percivale, \"I am of King Arthur's court, and a knight\nof the Table Round, the which am in the quest of the Holy Grail. Here\nI am in great duress, and never likely to escape out of this\nwilderness.\"\n\"Doubt not,\" said the good man, \"if ye be so true a knight as the order\nof chivalry requireth, and of heart as ye ought to be, ye need not fear\nthat any enemy shall slay you.\"\n\"What are ye?\" said Sir Percivale.\n\"Sir,\" said the old man, \"I am of a strange country, and hither I come\nto comfort you, and to warn you of your great battle that shall befall\nyou.\"\n\"With whom,\" said Sir Percivale, \"shall I fight?\"\n\"With the most champion of the world,\" said the old man, \"but, if ye\nquit you well, ye shall lose no limb, even though vanquished and\nseemingly shamed to the world's end.\"\nThen the good man leaped over the board, and the ship and all went\naway, Sir Percivale wist not whither. He abode there till midday, when\nhe saw a ship come rowing in the sea as if all the winds of the world\nhad driven it. It drove under the rock on which he sat; and when he\nhied thither he found the ship covered with silk blacker than any bier,\nand therein was a gentlewoman of great beauty, and she was clothed\nrichly that none might be better.\nWhen she saw Sir Percivale, she said, \"Who brought you in this\nwilderness where ye be never like to pass hence? for ye shall die here\nfor hunger and mischief.\"\n\"Damsel,\" said Sir Percivale, \"I serve the best man of the world, and\nin His service He will not suffer me to die, for who that knocketh\nshall enter, and who that asketh shall have, and from the man that\nseeketh Him, He hideth Him not.\"\n\"And I came out of the waste forest where I found the red knight with\nthe white shield,\" said the damsel.\n\"Ah, damsel,\" said he, \"with that knight would I meet passing fain.\"\n\"Sir,\" said she, \"if ye will ensure me, by the faith that ye owe unto\nknighthood, that ye will do my will what time I summon you, I shall\nbring you unto that knight.\"\n\"Yea,\" said he, \"I shall promise you to fulfil your desire. But what\nare ye that proffereth me thus great kindness?\"\n\"I am,\" said she, \"a gentlewoman that am disherited, which was sometime\nthe richest woman of the world.\"\n\"Damsel,\" said Sir Percivale, \"who hath disherited you? for I have\ngreat pity of you.\"\n\"Sir,\" said she, \"I dwell with the greatest man of the world, and he\nmade me so fair and so clear that there was none like me, and of that\ngreat beauty I had a little pride, more than I ought to have had. Also\nI said a word that pleased him not, and then he would not suffer me to\nbe any longer in his company. He drove me from mine heritage, and so\ndisowned me, and he had never pity for me, and would none of my council\nnor of my court. Since, sir knight, it hath befallen me so, I and mine\nhave taken from him many of his men, and have made them to become my\nmen, for they ask never anything of me, but I give it them, that and\nmuch more. Therefore I and my servants war against him night and day.\nI know now no good knight and no good man but I get on my side, if I\nmay. And since I know that ye are a good knight I beseech you to help\nme; and since ye are a fellow of the Round Table, ye ought not to fail\nany gentlewoman which is disherited, if she beseech you of help.\"\nThen Sir Percivale promised her all the help that he might. She\nthanked him, and since the weather was at that time hot, she bade a\ngentlewoman bring a pavilion. So she did, and pitched it there upon\nthe gravel. He slept a great while there in the heat of the day; and\nwhen he awoke, there was set before him upon a table all manner of\nmeats that he could think of. Also he drank there the strongest wine\nthat ever he drank, him thought, and therewith he was a little heated\nmore than he ought to be. With that he beheld the gentlewoman, and him\nthought that she was the fairest creature that ever he saw.\nWhen she saw him well refreshed, then she said, \"Sir Percivale, wit ye\nwell, I shall not fulfil your will, but if ye swear from henceforth to\nbe my true servant, and do nothing but that I shall command you. Will\nye ensure me this as ye be a true knight?\"\nSir Percivale was on the point of promising her all, when by adventure\nand grace he saw his sword lie upon the ground, all naked, in whose\npommel was a red cross. Then he bethought him of his knighthood and\nthe warning spoken toforehand by the good man, and he made the sign of\nthe cross in his forehead. Thereupon the pavilion turned up-so-down,\nand changed unto a smoke and a black cloud.\nSir Percivale was adread at this, and cried aloud, \"Fair sweet Father,\nJesu Christ, let me not be shamed, that was nigh lost, had not Thy good\ngrace been!\"\nThen he looked upon the ship, and saw the damsel enter therein, which\nsaid, \"Sir Percivale, ye have betrayed me.\" So she went with the wind\nroaring and yelling, that it seemed that all the water burned after her.\nThen Sir Percivale made great sorrow, and drew his sword unto him\nsaying, \"Since my flesh will be my master, I shall punish it.\"\nTherewith he stabbed himself through the thigh so that the blood\nstarted, and he said, \"O good Lord, take this in recompensation of that\nI have done against Thee, my Lord.\" Then he clothed him and armed him,\nand called himself a wretch, saying, \"How nigh was I lost, and to have\nlost that I should never have gotten again, my honour as a pure man and\nworthy knight, for that may never be recovered after it is once lost.\"\nAs he thus made his moan, he saw the same ship come from the Orient\nthat the good man was in the day before, and the noble knight was\nashamed with himself, and therewith he fell in a swoon. When he awoke\nhe went unto this good man weakly, and saluted him. Then he asked Sir\nPercivale, \"How hast thou done since I departed?\"\n\"Sir,\" said he, \"here was a gentlewoman that led me into deadly sin,\"\nand there he told him all his temptation.\n\"Knew ye not the maid?\" said the good man.\n\"Sir,\" said he, \"nay; but well I wot the fiend sent her hither to shame\nme.\"\n\"Oh, good knight,\" said he, \"that gentlewoman was the master fiend of\nhell, the champion that thou foughtest withal, the which would have\novercome thee, had it not been for the grace of God. Now, beware, Sir\nPercivale, and take this for an ensample.\"\nThen the good man vanished away, and Sir Percivale took his arms, and\nentered into the ship and so departed from thence.\nCHAPTER XXX\nTHE VICTORY OF SIR BORS OVER HIMSELF\nWhen Sir Bors was departed from Vagon, he met with a religious man\nriding on an ass, and Sir Bors saluted him. Anon the good man knew him\nto be one of the knights errant that was in the quest of the Holy Grail.\n\"What are ye?\" said the good man.\n\"Sir,\" said he, \"I am a knight that fain would be counselled in the\nquest of the Holy Grail, for he shall have much earthly honour that may\nbring it to an end.\"\n\"Verily,\" said the good man, \"that is sooth, for he shall be the best\nknight of the world, and the fairest of all the fellowship. But wit ye\nwell, there shall none attain it but by cleanness of heart and of life.\"\nSo rode they together till they came to a hermitage, and there he\nprayed Bors to dwell all that night with him. So he alighted and put\naway his armour, and prayed him that he might be confessed. So they\nwent into the chapel, and there he was clean confessed; and they ate\nbread and drank water together.\n\"Now,\" said the good man, \"I pray thee that thou eat none other, till\nthat thou sit at the table where the Holy Grail shall be.\"\n\"Sir,\" said he, \"I agree thereto; but how wit ye that I shall sit\nthere?\"\n\"Yes,\" said the good man, \"that know I, but there shall be few of your\nfellowship with you.\"\n\"All is welcome,\" said Sir Bors, \"that God sendeth me.\"\nAlso the good man in sign of chastisement put on him a scarlet coat,\ninstead of his shirt, and found him in so vigorous a life, and so\nstable, that he marvelled, and felt that he was never corrupt in\nfleshly lusts. Then Sir Bors put on his armour, and took his leave,\nand so departed.\nAfter he had ridden a day or two on his road, he met about the hour of\nnoon at the parting of two ways two knights, that led Lionel, his\nbrother, bound upon a strong hackney and his hands bound tofore his\nbreast. Each of the two held in his hands thorns, wherewith they went\nbeating him so sore that the blood trailed down more than in a hundred\nplaces of his body. But he said never a word, as he which was great of\nheart; he suffered all that ever they did to him as though he had felt\nnone anguish.\nAnon Sir Bors dressed him to rescue him that was his brother. Just\nthen he chanced to look upon his other side, and saw a knight which\nbrought a fair gentlewoman, and would have dragged her into the\nthickest part of the forest out of the way of them that sought to\nrescue her.\nAnon she espied where Sir Bors came riding. She deemed him a knight of\nthe Round Table, wherefore she hoped to have some comfort; and she\nconjured him by the faith that he owed unto him in whose service he had\nentered, and the fidelity he owed unto the high order of knighthood,\nand for the noble King Arthur's sake, to help her in her sore distress.\nWhen Sir Bors heard her cry, he had so much sorrow he knew not what to\ndo. \"For,\" said he, \"if I let my brother be in adventure he must be\nslain, and that would I not for all the earth. And if I help not the\nmaid in her peril, I am shamed for ever.\" Then he lifted up his eyes,\nand said weeping, \"Fair Lord Jesu Christ, whose liege man I am, keep\nLionel my brother, that these knights slay him not; and for Mary's\nsake, I shall succour this maid.\"\nThen dressed he him unto the knight the which had the gentlewoman, and\ncried, \"Sir knight, let your hand off that maiden, or ye be but a dead\nman.\"\nThe knight set down the maiden, and drew out his sword, but Bors smote\nhim so hard that he beat him down to the earth. Then came twelve\nknights seeking the gentlewoman, and anon she told them all how Bors\nhad delivered her. They made great joy, and besought him to come to\nher father, a noble lord; but Bors had a great adventure in hand, and\nmight not delay. So he commended them unto God, and departed.\nThen Sir Bors rode after Lionel his brother by the trace of their\nhorses. He sought a great while; and at the last he overtook a man\nclothed in religious clothing, that told him Lionel was dead, and\nshowed him a slain body, lying in a thicket, that well seemed to him\nthe body of Lionel. Then he made such a sorrow that he fell to the\nearth all in a swoon, and lay a great while there.\nWhen he came to himself he said, \"Fair brother, since the company of\nyou and me is parted, shall I never have joy in my heart; and now He\nwhich I have taken as to my Master, He be my help.\"\nWhen he had said thus, he took the body lightly in his arms and put it\nupon the bow of his saddle, and so rode to an old feeble chapel fast\nby, and put him into a tomb of marble.\nThen went Sir Bors from thence, and rode all that day, and then turned\nto a hermitage, at the entry of a forest. There he found Lionel his\nbrother, which sat all armed at the chapel door. For he was yet on\nlife, and a fiend had deceived Bors with the body left in the chapel,\nfor to put him in error so that he might not find the blessed adventure\nof the Holy Grail.\nWhen Sir Bors saw his brother alive he had great joy of him, that it\nwas marvel to tell of his joy. And then he alighted off his horse, and\nsaid, \"Fair sweet brother, when came ye thither?\"\nAnon as Sir Lionel saw him he said, \"Ah, Bors, ye may make no boast.\nFor all you I might have been slain. When ye saw two knights leading\nme away, beating me, ye left me for to succour a gentlewoman, and\nsuffered me to remain in peril of death. Never before did any brother\nto another so great an untruth. And for that misdeed now I ensure you\nbut death, for well have ye deserved it. Therefore guard yourself from\nhenceforward, and that shall ye find needful as soon as I am armed.\"\nWhen Sir Bors understood his brother's wrath, he kneeled down to the\nearth and cried him mercy, holding up both his hands, and prayed him to\nforgive him his evil will; but Lionel would show no pity, and made his\navow to God that he should have only death. Right so he went in and\nput on his harness; then he mounted upon his horse and came tofore him,\nand said, \"Bors, keep thee from me, for I shall do to thee as I would\nto a felon or a traitor, for ye be the untruest knight that ever came\nout of so worthy a house as was that of our father, King Bors of Ganis.\"\nWhen Sir Bors saw that he must fight with his brother or else die, he\nwist not what to do. Then his heart counselled him not to fight,\ninasmuch as Lionel was born before him, wherefore he ought to bear him\nreverence. Again kneeled he down afore Lionel's horse's feet, and\nsaid, \"Fair sweet brother, have mercy upon me and slay me not, and have\nin remembrance the great love which ought to be between us twain.\"\nWhat Sir Bors said Lionel recked not, for the fiend had brought him in\nsuch a will that he was determined to slay him. Then when Lionel saw\nhe would none other, and that he would not rise to give him battle, he\nrushed over him, so that his horse's feet smote Bors to the earth, and\nhurt him so sore that he swooned of distress. When Lionel saw this, he\nalighted from his horse to smite off his head. So he took him by the\nhelm, and would have rent it from his head, had not the hermit come\nrunning unto him, which was a good man and of great age. Well had he\nheard all the words that were between them, and so fell down upon Sir\nBors.\nThen he said to Lionel, \"Ah, gentle knight, have mercy upon me and on\nthy brother, for if thou slay him thou shalt commit a deadly sin, and\nthat were sorrowful; for he is one of the worthiest knights of the\nworld, and of the best conditions.\"\n\"So God me help,\" said Lionel, \"sir priest, unless ye flee from him I\nshall slay you, and he shall never the sooner be quit.\"\n\"Verily,\" said the good man, \"I had rather ye slay me than him, for my\ndeath shall not be great harm, not half so much as his.\"\n\"Well,\" said Lionel, \"I am agreed\"; and he set his hand to his sword,\nand smote the hermit so hard that his head went backward.\nFor all that, he restrained him not of his evil will, but took his\nbrother by the helm, and unlaced it to strike off his head. And he\nwould have slain him without fail, but so it happened that Colgrevance,\na fellow of the Round Table, came at that time thither, as our Lord's\nwill was. First he saw the good man slain, then he beheld how Lionel\nwould slay his brother, whom he knew and loved right well. Anon he\nsprang down and took Lionel by the shoulders, and drew him strongly\nback from Bors, and said, \"Lionel, will ye slay your brother, one of\nthe worthiest knights of the world? That should no good man suffer.\"\n\"Why,\" said Sir Lionel, \"will ye hinder me? If ye interfere in this, I\nshall slay you, and him after.\"\nThen Lionel ran upon Bors, and would have smitten him through the head,\nbut Sir Colgrevance ran betwixt them, and said, \"If ye be so hardy as\nto do so more, we two shall meddle together.\"\nThen Lionel defied him, and gave a great stroke through the helm. Now\nColgrevance drew his sword, for he was a passing good knight, and\ndefended himself right manfully. So long endured the battle that Sir\nBors awoke from his swoon, and rose up all anguishly, and beheld Sir\nColgrevance, the good knight, fight with his brother for his quarrel.\nThen was he full sorry and heavy, and would have risen to part them.\nBut he had not so much might as to stand on foot, and must abide so\nlong till Colgrevance had the worse, for Sir Lionel was of great\nchivalry and right hardy.\nOnly death awaited Colgrevance, when he beheld Sir Bors assaying to\nrise, and he cried, \"Ah, Bors, come ye and cast me out of peril of\ndeath, wherein I have put me to succour you, which were right now nigh\nto death.\"\nWhen Bors heard that, he did so much as to rise and put on his helm,\nmaking a marvellous sorrow at the sight of the dead hermit hard by.\nWith that Lionel smote Colgrevance so sore that he bare him to the\nearth.\nWhen he had slain Colgrevance, he ran upon his brother as a fiendly\nman, and gave him such a stroke that he made him stoop; and he, full of\nhumility, prayed him for God's love to leave this battle. But Lionel\nwould not, and then Bors drew his sword, all weeping, and said, \"Fair\nbrother, God knoweth mine intent. Ah, brother, ye have done full evil\nthis day to slay such a holy priest, the which never trespassed. Also\nye have slain a gentle knight, one of our fellows. And well wot ye\nthat I am not afraid of you greatly, but I dread the wrath of God.\nThis is an unkindly war; therefore may God show miracle upon us both.\nNow God have mercy upon me, though I defend my life against my brother.\"\nWith that Bors lifted up his hands, and would have smitten Lionel, but\neven then he heard a voice that said, \"Flee, Bors, and touch him not.\"\nRight so came a cloud betwixt them in likeness of a fire, so that both\ntheir shields burned. Then were they sore afraid, and fell both to the\nearth, and lay there a great while in a swoon. When they came to\nthemselves, Bors saw that his brother had no harm, wherefore he gave\nthanks, for he feared God had taken vengeance upon him. With that he\nheard a voice say, \"Bors, go hence and bear thy brother no longer\nfellowship, but take thy way anon right to the sea, for Sir Percivale\nabideth thee there.\"\nSo Sir Bors departed from Lionel, and rode the next way to the sea. On\nthe strand he found a ship covered all with white samite. He alighted\nfrom his horse and entered into the ship, and anon it departed into the\nsea, and went so fast that him seemed the ship went flying. Then he\nsaw in the midst of the ship a knight lie, all armed save his helm, and\nhe knew that it was Sir Percivale. And either made great joy of other,\nthat it was marvel to hear.\nThen Sir Bors told Sir Percivale how he came into the ship, and by\nwhose admonishment, and either told other of his temptations, as ye\nhave heard toforehand. So went they downward in the sea, one while\nbackward, another while forward, and each comforted other, and oft were\nthey in their prayers. Then said Sir Percivale, \"We lack nothing but\nGalahad, the good knight.\"\nCHAPTER XXXI\nHOW SIR LAUNCELOT FOUND THE HOLY GRAIL\nWhen the hermit had kept Sir Launcelot three days, he gat him a horse,\na helm, and a sword. So he departed, and took the adventure that God\nwould send him. On a night, as he slept, there came a vision unto him,\nand a voice said, \"Launcelot, arise up, and take thine armour, and\nenter into the first ship that thou shalt find.\"\nWhen he heard these words, he started up and saw great clearness about\nhim. Then he lifted up his hand in worship, and so took his arms, and\nmade him ready. By adventure he came by a strand, and found a ship,\nthe which was without sail or oar. And as soon as he was within the\nship, he felt the most sweetness that ever he felt, and he was filled\nwith a peace such as he had never known before. In this joy he laid\nhimself down on the ship's board, and slept till day.\nSo Sir Launcelot was a month and more on the ship, and if ye would ask\nhow he lived, as God fed the people of Israel with manna in the desert,\nso was he fed. On a night he went to play him by the waterside, for he\nwas somewhat weary of the ship. And then he listened, and heard a\nhorse come, and one riding upon him. When he came nigh he seemed a\nknight, and soon he saw that it was Galahad. And there was great joy\nbetween them, for there is no tongue can tell the joy that they made\neither of other; and there was many a friendly word spoken between\nthem, the which need not here be rehearsed. And there each told other\nof the adventures and marvels that were befallen to them in many\njourneys since they were departed from the court.\nSo dwelled Launcelot and Galahad within that ship half a year, and\nserved God daily and nightly with all their power. And often they\narrived in isles far from folk, where there repaired none but wild\nbeasts. There they found many strange adventures and perilous, which\nthey brought to an end. But because the adventures were with wild\nbeasts, and not in the quest of the Holy Grail, therefore the tale\nmaketh here no mention thereof, for it would be too long to tell of all\nthose adventures that befell them.\nThereafter it befell that they arrived in the edge of a forest tofore a\ncross, and then saw they a knight, armed all in white and richly\nhorsed, leading in his right hand a white horse. He came to the ship\nand saluted the two knights on the high Lord's behalf, and said,\n\"Galahad, sir, ye have been long enough with Launcelot. Come out of\nthe ship, and start upon this horse, and go where the adventures shall\nlead thee in the quest of the Holy Grail.\"\nSo Galahad took sorrowful leave of Sir Launcelot, for they knew that\none should never see the other before the dreadful day of doom.\nGalahad took his horse and entered into the forest, and the wind arose\nand drove Launcelot more than a month throughout the sea, where he\nslept little, but prayed to God that he might see some tidings of the\nHoly Grail.\nAnd it befell on a night, at midnight, he arrived afore a castle, on\nthe back side, which was rich and fair. There was a postern opened\ntowards the sea, and was open without any keeping, save two lions kept\nthe entry; and the moon shone clear. Anon Sir Launcelot heard a voice\nthat said, \"Launcelot, go out of this ship, and enter into the castle,\nwhere thou shalt see a great part of thy desire.\"\nThen he ran for his arms, and so he went to the gate, and saw the\nlions. He set his hand to his sword, and drew it, whereupon there came\na dwarf suddenly, and smote him on the arm so sore that the sword fell\nout of his hand. Then heard he a voice say, \"Oh, man of evil faith and\npoor belief, wherefore trowest thou more on thy harness than in thy\nMaker? He in whose service thou art set might more avail thee than\nthine armour.\"\nThen said Launcelot, \"Fair Father Jesu Christ, I thank thee of Thy\ngreat mercy, that Thou reprovest me of my misdeed. Now see I well that\nye hold me for your servant.\"\nThen took he again his sword, and put it up in his sheath, and came to\nthe lions, and they made semblant[1] to do him harm. Notwithstanding\nhe passed by them without hurt, and entered into the castle to the\nchief fortress, and there were all at rest. Launcelot entered in so\narmed, for he found no gate nor door but it was open. At last he found\na chamber whereof the door was shut, and he set his hand thereto to\nopen it, but he might not, though he enforced himself much to undo the\ndoor.\nThen he listened, and heard a voice which sang so sweetly that it\nseemed none earthly thing. Launcelot kneeled down tofore the chamber,\nfor well wist he that there was the Holy Grail within that chamber.\nThen said he: \"Fair sweet Father Jesu Christ, if ever I did thing that\npleased Thee, for Thy pity have me not in despite for my sins done\naforetime, and show me something of that I seek!\"\nWith that he saw the chamber door open, and there came out a great\nclearness, so that the house was as bright as if all the torches of the\nworld had been there. So came he to the chamber door, and would have\nentered, but anon a voice said to him, \"Flee, Launcelot, and enter not,\nfor thou oughtest not to do it; and if thou enter thou shalt repent it.\"\nHe withdrew himself back right heavy, and then looked he up in the\nmidst of the chamber, and saw a table of silver, and the holy vessel\ncovered with red samite, and many angels about it. Right so came he to\nthe door at a great pace, entered into the chamber, and drew towards\nthe table of silver.\nWhen he came nigh he felt a breath that seemed intermingled with fire,\nwhich smote him so sore in the visage that he thought it burned his\nvisage. Therewith he fell to the earth, and had no power to arise.\nThen felt he many hands about him, which took him up and bare him out\nof the chamber door, and left him there seeming dead to all people.\nUpon the morrow, when it was fair day, they within were arisen, and\nfound Launcelot lying afore the chamber door, and all they marvelled\nhow he came in. They looked upon him, and felt his pulse, to wit\nwhether there were any life in him. And so they found life in him, but\nhe might neither stand nor stir any limb that he had. They took him\nup, and bare him into a chamber, and laid him in a rich bed, far from\nall folk, and so he lay still as a dead man four and twenty days, in\npunishment, he afterwards thought, for the twenty-four years that he\nhad been a sinner.\nAt the twenty-fifth day it befell that he opened his eyes, and the folk\nasked how it stood with him. He answered that he was whole of body,\nand then he would know where he was. They told him he was in the\ncastle of Carboneck, and that the quest of the Holy Grail had been\nachieved by him, and that he should never see the sacred vessel more\nnearly than he had seen it.\nSoon Sir Launcelot took his leave of all the fellowship that were there\nat the castle, and thanked them for the great labour. So he took his\narmour and departed, and said that he would go back to the realm of\nLogris.\n[1] Made semblant: threatened.\nCHAPTER XXXII\nTHE END OF THE QUEST\nNow, saith the story, Sir Galahad rode into a vast forest, wherein he\nrode many journeys, and he found many adventures, the which he brought\nto an end, whereof the story maketh here no mention. And on a day it\nbefell him that he was benighted in a hermitage. The good man there\nwas glad when he saw a knight-errant, and made him what cheer he might.\nThen when they were at rest, there came a gentlewoman knocking at the\ndoor, and called Galahad. So the hermit came to the door to wit what\nshe would, and she said to him that she would speak with the knight\nthat was lodged there. The good man awoke Galahad, and bade him arise\nand speak with a gentlewoman that seemed to have great need of him.\nThen Galahad went to her, and asked her what she would. \"Galahad,\"\nsaid she, \"I will that ye arm you, and mount upon your horse and follow\nme, for I shall show you within these three days the highest adventure\nthat ever any knight saw.\" Anon Galahad armed him, and took his horse,\nand bade the gentlewoman go, and he would follow as she liked.\nSo she rode as fast as her palfrey might bear her, till they came to\nthe seaside, and there they found the ship wherein were Bors and\nPercivale, the which cried on the ship's board, \"Sir Galahad, ye be\nwelcome; we have awaited you long.\"\nSo, leaving his horse behind, Galahad entered into the ship, where the\ntwo knights received him with great joy. And the wind arose, and drove\nthem through the sea marvellously.\nNow saith the story that they rode a great while till they came to the\ncastle of Carboneck, where Sir Launcelot had been tofore. They entered\nwithin the castle, and then there was great joy, for they wist well\nthat they had fulfilled the quest of the Holy Grail.\nAs they were alone in the hall, it seemed to them that there came a\nman, in likeness of a bishop, with four angels from heaven, and held\nmass about a table of silver, whereupon the Holy Grail was. And in a\nvision they saw in the bread of the sacrament a figure in likeness of a\nchild, and the visage was as bright as any fire.\nThen said the bishop to them, \"Servants of Jesu Christ, ye shall be fed\nafore this table with sweet food, that never knights tasted.\"\nWhen he had said, he vanished away; and they sat them at the table in\ngreat reverence, and made their prayers. Then looked they, and saw a\nman that had all the signs of the passion of Jesu Christ, and he said:\n\"My knights and my servants and my true children, which be come out of\ndeadly life into spiritual life, I will now no longer hide me from you,\nbut ye shall see now a part of my secrets and of my hid things; now\nhold and receive the high meat which ye have so much desired.\"\nThen took He Himself the holy vessel, and came to Galahad, who knelt\ndown and there he received the sacrament, and after him so received all\nhis fellows; and they thought it so sweet that it was marvellous to\ntell.\nThen said He to Galahad, \"Son, knowest thou what I hold betwixt my\nhands?\"\n\"Nay,\" said he, \"unless ye will tell me.\"\n\"This is,\" said He, \"the holy dish wherein I ate the lamb at the Last\nSupper. And now hast thou seen that thou most desiredst to see, but\nyet hast thou not seen it so openly as thou shalt see it in the city of\nSarras, in the spiritual place. Therefore thou must go hence, and bear\nwith thee this holy vessel, for this night it shall depart from the\nrealm of Logris, that it shall never be seen more here. And knowest\nthou wherefore? Because they of this land be turned to evil living;\ntherefore I shall disinherit them of the honour which I have done them.\nTherefore go ye three unto the sea, where ye shall find your ship\nready.\"\nRight so departed Galahad, Percivale and Bors with him. They rode\nthree days, and then they came to a rivage[1], where they found the\nship whereof the tale speaketh tofore. When they came to the board,\nthey found in the midst the table of silver, which they had left in the\ncastle of Carboneck, and the Holy Grail, which was covered with red\nsamite. Then were they glad to have such things in their fellowship.\nThey had remained some time in the ship, when they awoke of a morning\nto see the city of Sarras afore them. Here they landed, and took out\nof the ship the table of silver, Percivale and Bors going tofore and\nGalahad behind. Right so they went to the city, and at the gate of the\ncity they saw an old bent man. Then Galahad called him, and bade him\nhelp to bear this heavy thing.\n\"Truly,\" said the old man, \"it is ten years since I might go without\ncrutches.\"\n\"Care thou not,\" said Galahad; \"arise up and show thy good will.\"\nSo he assayed, and found himself as whole as ever he was. Then ran he\nto the table, and took one part opposite Galahad.\nAnon arose there great noise in the city, that a cripple was made whole\nby knights marvellous that entered into the city. When the king of the\ncity, which was called Estorause, saw the fellowship, he asked them\nfrom whence they were, and what thing it was that they had brought upon\nthe table of silver. And they told him the truth of the Holy Grail,\nand the power which God had set there.\nNow King Estorause was a tyrant, and was come of a line of pagans. He\ntook the three knights and put them in a deep hole. But as soon as\nthey were there our Lord sent them the Holy Grail, through whose grace\nthey were always satisfied while that they were in prison.\nAt the year's end it befell that this king lay sick, and felt that he\nshould die. Then he sent for the three knights. They came afore him,\nand he cried them mercy of that he had done to them, and they forgave\nit him goodly, and he died anon.\nWhen the king was dead, all the city was dismayed, and wist not who\nmight be their king. Right so as they were in counsel, there came a\nvoice among them, and bade them choose the youngest knight of them\nthere to be their king, for he should well maintain them and all\ntheirs. So they made Galahad king by all the assent of the whole city.\nWhen he was come to behold the land, he let make about the table of\nsilver a chest of gold and of precious stones that covered the holy\nvessel; and every day early the three fellows would come afore it and\nmake their prayers.\nNow at the year's end the three knights arose early and came to the\npalace, and saw before them the holy vessel, and a man kneeling, in\nlikeness of a bishop, that had about him a great fellowship of angels.\nAnd he called Galahad and said to him, \"Come forth, thou servant of\nJesu Christ, and thou shalt see that thou hast much desired to see.\"\nThen Galahad began to tremble right hard, when the deadly flesh began\nto behold the spiritual things. Then he held up his hands towards\nheaven, and said, \"Lord, I thank Thee, for now I see what hath been my\ndesire many a day. Now, blessed Lord, would I not longer live, if it\nmight please thee, Lord.\"\nTherewith the good man took the sacrament and proffered it to Galahad,\nand he received it right gladly and meekly.\n\"Now, wotest thou what I am?\" said the good man; \"I am Joseph of\nArimathea, which our Lord hath sent here to thee to bear thee\nfellowship. And wotest thou wherefore He hath sent me more than any\nother? For thou hast resembled me in two things, in that thou hast\nseen the marvels of the Holy Grail, and in that thou hast been a clean\nand virtuous knight, as I have been and am.\"\nWhen these words had been spoken, Galahad went to Percivale and to Bors\nand kissed them and commended them to God, and said, \"Salute me to my\nlord Sir Launcelot, and bid him remember of this unstable world.\"\nTherewith he kneeled down tofore the table and made his prayers, and\nthen suddenly his soul departed to Jesu Christ, and a great multitude\nof angels bare his soul up to heaven, and the two fellows might well\nbehold it. Also they saw come from heaven a hand, but they saw not the\nbody; and it came right to the vessel, and took it, and bare it up to\nheaven. Since then was there never man so hard as to say that he had\nseen the Holy Grail.\nWhen Percivale and Bors saw Galahad had died, they made as much sorrow\nas ever did two men; and if they had not been good men, they might\nlightly have fallen in despair. And the people of the country and of\nthe city were right heavy. And then he was buried. And as soon as he\nwas buried, Sir Percivale betook himself to a hermitage out of the\ncity, where for a year and two months he lived a full holy life, and\nthen passed out of this world.\nWhen Bors saw that he was alone in so far countries, he departed from\nSarras and came to the sea. There he entered into a ship, and so it\nbefell that in good adventure he came into the realm of Logris. And he\nrode to Camelot, where King Arthur was, and then was there great joy\nmade of him in the court, for they believed all that he was dead,\nforasmuch as he had been so long out of the country.\nWhen they had eaten, the King made great clerks to come afore him, that\nthey should chronicle of the high adventures of the good knights. When\nBors had told of the adventures of the Holy Grail, such as had befallen\nhim and his two fellows, that was Percivale and Galahad, then Launcelot\ntold the adventures of the Holy Grail that he had seen. All this was\nmade in great books, and put in chests at Salisbury.\n[1] Rivage: bank; shore.\nCHAPTER XXXIII\nSIR LAUNCELOT AND THE FAIR MAID OF ASTOLAT\nAfter the quest of the Holy Grail was fulfilled, and all knights that\nwere left alive were come again unto the Table Round, then was there\ngreat joy in the court, and in especial King Arthur and Queen Guenever\nmade great joy of the remnant that were come home. Passing glad were\nthe King and the Queen of Sir Launcelot and of Sir Bors, for they had\nbeen long away in the quest of the Holy Grail.\nThen, as the book saith, Sir Launcelot began to resort unto Queen\nGuenever again, and forgat the promise that he made in the quest. For,\nhad he not been in his privy thoughts and in his mind so set inwardly\nto the Queen, as he was in seeming outward to God, there had no knight\npassed him in the quest of the Holy Grail. But ever his thoughts were\nprivily on the Queen, more than toforehand, so that many in the court\nspake of it, and in especial Sir Agravaine, Sir Gawaine's brother, for\nhe was ever open mouthed.\nThus it passed forth till on a day the King let cry great jousts and a\ntournament that should be at Camelot, that is Winchester, and thither\ncame many knights. So King Arthur made him ready to depart to these\njousts, and would have had the Queen with him, but she would not go,\npretending to be sick. This grieved the King, for such a fellowship of\nknights had not been seen together since the Whitsuntide when Galahad\ndeparted from the court. And many deemed the Queen would not be there\nbecause of Sir Launcelot of the Lake, who would not ride with the King,\nfor he said he was not whole of a wound.\nSo when the King was departed, the Queen called Sir Launcelot unto her,\nand told him he was greatly to blame, thus to hold himself behind his\nlord, and counselled him to take his way towards the tournament at\nWinchester. So upon the morn he took his leave of the Queen, and\ndeparted. He rode all that day, and at eventide he came to Astolat,\nthat is Gilford, and was lodged at the place of an old baron, named Sir\nBernard of Astolat. The old knight welcomed him in the best manner,\nbut he knew not that he was Sir Launcelot.\n\"Fair sir,\" said Sir Launcelot to his host, \"I would pray you to lend\nme a shield that is not openly known, for mine be well known, and I\nwould go to the tournament in disguise.\"\n\"Sir,\" said his host, \"ye shall have your desire, for me seemeth ye be\none of the likeliest knights of the world, and I shall show you\nfriendship. Sir, wit ye well I have two sons which were but late made\nknights. The eldest is called Sir Tirre, and he was hurt that same day\nthat he was made knight, so that he may not ride. His shield ye shall\nhave, for that is not known, I dare say, except in this place. And my\nyoungest son is named Sir Lavaine, and if it please you, he shall ride\nwith you unto the jousts, for he is of his age strong and brave. Much\nmy heart leads me to believe that ye should be a noble knight;\ntherefore I pray you tell me your name.\"\n\"As for that,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"ye must hold me excused at his\ntime, but if God give me grace to speed well at the jousts, I shall\ncome again and tell you. But I pray you in any wise let me have your\nson Sir Lavaine with me, and his brother's shield.\"\n\"This shall be done,\" said Sir Bernard.\nThis old baron had a daughter, Elaine le Blank, that was called at that\ntime the Fair Maid of Astolat. Ever she beheld Sir Launcelot\nadmiringly, and, as the book saith, she cast such a love unto him that\nshe could never withdraw her love, so she besought him to wear at the\njousts a token of hers. \"Fair damsel,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"if I grant\nyou that, ye may say I do more for your love than ever I did for lady\nor damsel.\"\n[Illustration: Elaine]\nThen he remembered that he would go to the jousts disguised; and\nbecause he had never afore that time borne any manner of token of any\ndamsel, he bethought him that he would bear one of her, so that none of\nhis blood thereby might know him. And then he said, \"Fair maiden, I\nwill grant you to wear a token of yours upon my helmet; therefore, show\nme what it is.\"\n\"Sir,\" she said, \"it is a red sleeve of mine, of scarlet, well\nembroidered with great pearls.\"\nSo she brought it him, and Sir Launcelot received it, saying that he\nhad never done so much for any damsel. Then he left his shield in the\nfair maiden's keeping, and prayed her to care for it until that he came\nagain. So that night he had merry rest and great cheer, for ever the\ndamsel Elaine was about Sir Launcelot, all the while she might be\nsuffered.\nOn the morn Sir Launcelot and Sir Lavaine took their leave of Sir\nBernard, the old baron, and of his daughter, the Fair Maiden of\nAstolat, and then they rode so long till they came to Camelot. There\nwas great press of kings, dukes, earls, and barons, and many noble\nknights; but there Sir Launcelot was lodged privily, by the means of\nSir Lavaine, with a rich burgess, so that no man in that town was ware\nwhat they were.\nAt the time appointed the jousts began, and Sir Launcelot made him\nready in his best manner, and put the red sleeve upon his head, and\nfastened it fast. Then he with Sir Lavaine came in at the thickest of\nthe press, and did marvellous deeds of arms, so that all wondered what\nknight he might be. Sir Gawaine said it might be Sir Launcelot by his\nriding and his buffets, but ever it seemed it should not be he, for he\nbore the red sleeve upon his head, and he never wist Sir Launcelot bear\ntoken of lady or gentleman at any jousts.\nAt the last by misfortune Sir Bors unhorsed Sir Launcelot, and smote\nhim through the shield into the side; and the spear brake, and the head\nwas left still in his side. But Sir Lavaine by great force took the\nhorse from the King of Scots and brought it to his lord, Sir Launcelot,\nand in spite of them all he made him to mount upon that horse. Then\nLauncelot gat a spear in his hand, and then he smote Sir Bors horse and\nman to the earth. In the same wise served he other knights, and, as\nthe book saith, he might have slain them, but his heart might not serve\nhim thereto, and he left them there.\nThen afterwards he hurled in the thickest press of them all, and did\nthere the marvellousest deeds of arms that ever man saw or heard speak\nof; and ever Sir Lavaine, the good knight, was with him. And there Sir\nLauncelot with his sword smote and pulled down, as the French book\nmaketh mention, more than thirty knights, and the most part were of the\nTable Round. And Sir Lavaine also did full well that day.\nAt the last the King blew unto lodging, and the prize was given by\nheralds unto the knight with the white shield, that bare the red\nsleeve. But Sir Launcelot was sore hurt, and cared not for honour; and\ngroaning piteously, he rode at a great gallop away-ward from all the\nknights, until he came under a wood's side. When he saw that he was\nfrom the field nigh a mile, so that he was sure he might not be seen,\nhe besought Sir Lavaine as he loved him to draw the truncheon out of\nhis side. This Sir Lavaine dreaded sore to do, lest Sir Launcelot\nshould be in peril of death from loss of blood, if the truncheon were\ndrawn out. Yet he did as his lord would have him do, and Sir Launcelot\ngave a great shriek, and so swooned pale and deadly.\nThereupon Sir Lavaine took him to a hermitage fast by within two miles,\nwhere dwelt a gentle hermit, that sometime was a full noble knight and\na great lord of possessions. For great goodness he had taken himself\nto wilful poverty, and forsaken many lands. He was a full noble\nsurgeon, and anon he stanched Sir Launcelot's blood, and made him to\ndrink good wine, so that he was well refreshed, and came to himself.\nMeanwhile King Arthur let seek the knight that bare the red sleeve,\nthat he might have his laud and honour, and the prize, as was right.\nBut he could not be found, and the King and all the knights feared he\nwas sore hurt in the battle. Then Sir Gawaine took a squire with him\nand drove all about Camelot within six or seven miles, but could hear\nno word of him.\nThen within two days King Arthur and all the fellowship returned unto\nLondon again, and so, as they rode by the way, it happened that Sir\nGawaine was lodged at Astolat with Sir Bernard. There by the means of\nthe shield left in Elaine's care he learned that the knight who won\nsuch honour at the tournament was none other than Sir Launcelot\nhimself, and the Fair Maid of Astolat learned on how valiant a knight\nshe had fixed her love.\nWhen Elaine heard also that Sir Launcelot was grievously wounded and\nthat the knights knew not where he lay, she said to Sir Bernard, her\nfather: \"Now I request you give me leave to ride and to seek him, or\nelse I wot well I shall go out of my mind, for I shall never stop till\nthat I find him and my brother, Sir Lavaine.\"\n\"Do as it liketh you,\" said her father, \"for I am right sore grieved of\nthe hurt of that noble knight.\"\nRight so the maid made herself ready, and Sir Gawaine rode on to\nLondon, where he openly disclosed to all the court that it was Sir\nLauncelot that bore the red sleeve, and that jousted best. And when\nSir Bors heard that, wit ye well he was a heavy man, and so were all\nhis kinsmen, for it was he who had given Sir Launcelot, that was his\nown cousin, the grievous wound in the tournament. But when Queen\nGuenever wist that Sir Launcelot bare the red sleeve of the Fair Maid\nof Astolat, she was nigh out of her mind for wrath, and called him\nfalse traitor, because he had worn the token of any lady but herself.\nAs fair Elaine came to Winchester, she sought there all about, and by\nfortune Sir Lavaine had ridden out to refresh himself and to exercise\nhis horse. Anon as Elaine saw him she knew him, and then she cried\naloud unto him. When he heard her, anon he came hither, and then she\nasked her brother how Sir Launcelot did.\n\"Who told you, sister,\" said he, \"that my lord's name is Sir Launcelot?\"\nThen she told him how Sir Gawaine knew him by his shield, and so they\nrode together till they came to the hermitage. Anon she alighted, and\nSir Lavaine brought her in to Sir Launcelot. So this maiden, Elaine,\nnever went from Sir Launcelot, but watched him day and night, and did\nsuch attendance to him that the French book saith there was never woman\ndid kindlier for man than she.\nAfter a long while he was healed of his wounds, and so upon a morn they\ntook their horses, and Elaine le Blank with them, and departed from the\nhermit. And when they came to Astolat, there they were well lodged,\nand had great cheer of Sir Bernard the old baron, and of Sir Tirre his\nson.\nWhen Sir Launcelot should depart from Astolat for to return to King\nArthur's court, fair Elaine seemed like to die for love of him and for\nsorrow at his going. But Sir Launcelot loved only Queen Guenever, and\nthought never to be wedded man, and could only grieve at her great\nsorrow; and for her good will and great kindness he promised that,\nwhensoever she should set her heart upon some good knight that would\nwed her, he would give her a thousand pounds yearly, and always while\nhe lived be her own true knight.\nThen Sir Launcelot took his leave, and with Sir Lavaine he came unto\nWinchester. And when Arthur wist that Sir Launcelot was come whole and\nsound, he made great joy of him, and so did all the knights of the\nRound Table except Sir Agravaine and Sir Mordred.\nNow speak we of the Fair Maiden of Astolat, that made such sorrow day\nand night that she never slept, ate, or drank, and ever she made her\nlament for Sir Launcelot. When she had thus endured a ten days, and\nweakened so that she must needs pass out of this world, she prepared\nfor death, but ever she mourned for Sir Launcelot.\nThen her priest bade her leave such thoughts; but she said, \"Why should\nI leave such thoughts? Am I not an earthly woman? And all the while\nthe breath is in my body I may lament, for I do none offence, though I\nlove an earthly man, and I take God to my record I never loved any but\nSir Launcelot of the Lake, and as I am a pure maiden I never shall.\nAnd since it is the sufferance of God that I shall die for the love of\nso noble a knight, I beseech the High Father of Heaven to have mercy\nupon my soul; and sweet Lord Jesu, I take Thee to record, I was never\ngreat offender against Thy laws, but that I loved this noble knight Sir\nLauncelot out of measure, and of myself, good Lord, I might not\nwithstand the fervent love wherefore I have my death.\"\nThen she called her father Sir Bernard and her brother Sir Tirre, and\nheartily she prayed her father that her brother might write a letter\nlike as she did endite it, and so her father granted her. And when the\nletter was written word by word as she devised, then she prayed her\nfather that after her death she might be put in a barge in all her\nrichest clothes, the letter fast in her right hand, and that the barge,\ncovered over and over with black samite, might be steered by one\nboatman only down the Thames to Westminster.\nSo she died, and all was done as she desired. Now by fortune King\nArthur and Queen Guenever were speaking together at a window of the\npalace, and as they looked they espied this black barge, and had marvel\nwhat it meant. And the King sent three knights thither to bring him\nready word what was there. Then these three knights came to the barge,\nand found therein the fairest corpse lying in a rich bed, and a poor\nman sitting at the barge's end, and no word would he speak. Then the\nKing took the Queen by the hand and went thither, and there they saw\nthe fair woman in all the rich clothing lying as though she smiled.\nAnd the Queen espied the letter in her right hand, and a clerk read it\nin the presence of many knights.\nThis was the intent of the letter: \"Most noble knight Sir Launcelot,\nnow hath death made us two at debate for your love. I was your lover,\nthat men called the Fair Maiden of Astolat; therefore unto all ladies I\nmake my moan; yet pray for my soul, and bury me at the least, and offer\nmy mass-penny. This is my last request. And a clean maiden I died, I\ntake God to witness. Pray for my soul, Sir Launcelot, as thou art\npeerless.\"\nWhen the letter was read, the King, the Queen, and all the knights wept\nfor pity at the doleful lament. Then was Sir Launcelot sent for, and\nwhen he heard the letter word by word, he said: \"My lord Arthur, wit ye\nwell I am right heavy of the death of this fair damsel, but God knoweth\nI was never cause of her death by my willing. I will not say but that\nshe was both fair and good, and much I was beholden unto her, but she\nloved me out of measure.\"\nThen said the King unto Sir Launcelot, \"It will be your honour that ye\noversee that she be interred honourably.\"\n\"Sir,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"that shall be done as I can best devise.\"\nSo upon the morn she was interred richly, and Sir Launcelot offered her\nmass-penny, and all the knights of the Table Round that were there at\nthat time offered with Sir Launcelot.\nAnd the Queen sent for Sir Launcelot, and prayed him of mercy, because\nshe had been wroth with him causeless, and he willingly forgave her.\nSo it passed on all that winter with all manner of hunting and hawking,\nand jousts and tourneys were many betwixt the great lords; and ever in\nall places Sir Lavaine gat great honour, so that he was nobly renowned\namong many knights of the Table Round.\nCHAPTER XXXIV\nOF THE GREAT TOURNAMENT ON CANDLEMAS DAY\nAt Christmas time many knights were together at the court, and every\nday there was a joust made. Sir Lavaine jousted there all that\nChristmas passing well, and was praised best, for there were but few\nthat did so well. Wherefore all knights thought that Sir Lavaine\nshould be made knight of the Round Table at the next feast of Pentecost.\nBut Sir Launcelot would joust only when a great tournament was held.\nSo after Christmas King Arthur had many knights called unto him, and\nthere they agreed together to make a party and a great tournament near\nWestminster on Candlemas Day. Of this many knights were glad, and made\nthemselves ready to be at these jousts in the freshest manner. The\nQueen Guenever sent for Sir Launcelot, and said: \"At these jousts that\nshall be ye shall bear upon your helmet the sleeve of gold that ye\nshall have of me, and I pray you, for my sake exert yourself there so\nthat men may speak of your honour.\"\n\"Madam,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"it shall be done.\"\nAnd when Sir Launcelot saw his time, he told Sir Bors that he would\ndepart, and have no others with him than Sir Lavaine, unto the good\nhermit that dwelt in the forest of Windsor,--his name was Sir\nBrastias,--and there he intended to take all the repose he might,\nbecause he wished to be fresh on the day of the jousts.\nSo Sir Launcelot with Sir Lavaine departed so quietly that no creature\nexcept the noble men of his own kin knew what had become of him. And\nwhen he had come to the hermitage, you may be sure he had good cheer.\nDaily he would go to a spring hard by the hermitage, and there he would\nlie down and watch the spring bubble, and sometimes he slept there.\nAt that time a lady dwelt in the forest, who was a great huntress.\nEvery day she used to hunt, and no men ever went with her, but always\nwomen. They were all shooters, and could well kill a deer both under\ncover and in the open. They always carried bows and arrows, horns and\nwood-knives, and many good dogs they had.\nNow it happened that this lady, the huntress, was one day chasing a\ndeer, keeping the direction by the noise of the hounds. The deer, hard\npressed, came down to the spring where Sir Launcelot was sleeping, and\nthere sank down exhausted, and lay there a great while. At length the\ndogs came fast after, and beat about, for they had lost the very\nperfect track of the deer. Just then there came that lady, the\nhuntress, who knew by the sounds of the dogs that the deer must be at\nthe spring. So she came swiftly and found the deer. She put a broad\narrow in her bow, and shot at it, but aimed too high, and so by\nmisfortune the arrow smote Sir Launcelot deep in the thick of the\nthigh. When Sir Launcelot felt himself so hurt, he jumped up madly,\nand saw the lady that had smitten him. And when he saw it was a woman,\nhe said thus; \"Lady or damsel, whatever thou be, in an evil time ye\nbare a bow; the devil made you a shooter.\"\n\"Now mercy, fair sir,\" said the lady; \"I am a gentlewoman that am wont\nto hunt here in this forest, and truly I saw you not; there was the\ndeer by the spring, and I believed I was doing well to shoot, but my\nhand swerved.\"\n\"Alas,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"ye have done mischief to me.\"\nAnd so the lady departed, and Sir Launcelot, as well as he might,\npulled out the arrow, but the head remained still in his thigh; and so\nhe went feebly to the hermitage, ever bleeding as he went. And when\nSir Lavaine and the hermit spied that Sir Launcelot was hurt, wit ye\nwell they were passing sorry; but neither Sir Lavaine nor the hermit\nknew how he was hurt, or by whom. Then with great pain the hermit gat\nthe arrow's head out of Sir Launcelot's thigh, but much of his blood\nwas shed, and the wound was passing sore.\n\"Ah, mercy,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"I call myself the most unhappy man\nthat liveth; for ever when I would most gladly have honour there\nbefalleth me some unhappy thing. Now, so heaven help me, I shall be in\nthe field upon Candlemas Day at the jousts, whatsoever come of it.\"\nSo all that might heal Sir Launcelot was gotten, and, when the day\ncame, he and Sir Lavaine had themselves and their horses arrayed, and\nso departed and came nigh to the field. Many proved good knights with\ntheir retainers were there ready to joust, and King Arthur himself came\ninto the field with two hundred knights, the most part noble knights of\nthe Table Round. And there were old knights set in scaffolds, for to\njudge with the Queen who did best.\nThen they blew to the field, and the knights met in the battle,\nfuriously smiting down one and another in the rush of the tournament.\nKing Arthur himself ran into the lists with a hundred followers,\nsmiting to the earth four knights, one after the other, and even when\nhis spear was broken he did passing well. And so knight after knight\ncame in,--Sir Gawaine, and Sir Gaheris, and Sir Agravaine, and Sir\nMordred, and many others; all pressed their opponents hard, some being\ndiscomfited and others gaining great honour by their mighty prowess.\nAll this doing Sir Launcelot saw, and then he came into the field with\nSir Lavaine, as if it had been thunder. He encountered with Sir\nGawaine, and by force smote him and his horse to the earth, and then\none knight after another all with one spear. And Sir Lavaine\nencountered with Sir Palamides, and either met other so hard and so\nfiercely that both their horses fell to the earth. But they were\nhorsed again, and then Sir Launcelot met with Sir Palamides, and there\nSir Palamides had a fall. And so Sir Launcelot, as fast as he could\nget spears, smote down thirty knights, and the most part of them were\nknights of the Table Round. And then King Arthur was wroth when he saw\nSir Launcelot do such deeds, and with nine chosen knights made ready to\nset upon Sir Launcelot and Sir Lavaine.\nAll this espied Sir Gareth, and he said to Sir Bors, \"I will ride unto\nmy lord Sir Launcelot for to help him, fall of it what may, for he is\nthe same man that made me knight.\"\n\"Ye shall not so,\" said Sir Bors, \"by my counsel, unless ye be\ndisguised.\"\n\"Ye shall see me disguised,\" said Sir Gareth.\nSo he rode to a Welsh knight who lay to repose himself, for he was sore\nhurt afore by Sir Gawaine, and Sir Gareth prayed him of his knighthood\nto lend him his green shield for his.\n\"I will well,\" said the Welsh knight.\nSo Sir Gareth came driving to Sir Launcelot with all his might, and\nbore him fellowship for old love he had shown him. And so the King and\nhis nine knights encountered with Sir Launcelot and Sir Lavaine and Sir\nGareth. And Sir Gareth did such deeds of arms that all men wondered\nwhat knight he was with the green shield; for he smote down that day\nand pulled down more than thirty knights. Also Sir Launcelot knew not\nSir Gareth, and marvelled, when he beheld him do such deeds, what\nknight he might be.\nSo this tournament and this joust lasted long, till it was near\nevening, for the knights of the Round Table ever came to the relief of\nKing Arthur, who was wroth out of measure that he and his knights could\nnot prevail that day over Sir Launcelot and the knights who were with\nhim.\nSo when they had long dealt one another great strokes and neither might\nprevail, King Arthur said to Sir Gawaine, \"Tell me now, nephew, what is\nyour best counsel?\"\n\"Sir,\" said Sir Gawaine, \"ye shall have my counsel. Have sounded the\ncall unto lodging, for, trust me, truly it will be of no avail to\nstrive with Sir Launcelot of the Lake and my brother, Sir Gareth,--for\nhe it is with the green shield,--helped as they are by that good young\nknight, Sir Lavaine, unless we should fall ten or twelve upon one\nknight, and that would be no honour, but shame.\"\n\"Ye say truth,\" said the King, \"and it were shame to us, so many as we\nare, to set upon them any more.\"\nSo then they blew unto lodging, and King Arthur rode after Sir\nLauncelot and prayed him and other of the knights to supper.\nSo they went unto Arthur's lodging all together, and there was a great\nfeast and great revel, and the prize was given unto Sir Launcelot.\nThen Sir Launcelot told the King and the Queen how the lady huntress\nshot him in the forest of Windsor in the thigh with a broad arrow.\nAlso Arthur blamed Sir Gareth, because he left his fellowship and held\nwith Sir Launcelot.\n\"My lord,\" said Sir Gareth, \"he made me a knight, and when I saw him so\nhard bestead, me thought it was my honour to help him, for I saw him do\nso much, and I was ashamed to see so many noble knights against him\nalone.\"\n\"Truly,\" said King Arthur unto Sir Gareth, \"ye say well, and honourably\nhave ye done, and all the days of my life be sure I shall love you and\ntrust you the more for the great honour ye have done to yourself. For\never it is an honourable knight's duty to help another honourable\nknight when he seeth him in a great danger, for ever an honourable man\nwill be loath to see an honourable man put to shame. He that is of no\nhonour, and fareth with cowardice, will never show gentleness nor any\nmanner of goodness where he seeth a man in any danger, for never will a\ncoward show any mercy, and always a good man will do to another man as\nhe would be done to himself.\"\nSo then there were great feasts unto kings and dukes; and revel, game,\nand play, and all manner of nobleness was used; and he that was\ncourteous, true, and faithful to his friend was at that time cherished.\nCHAPTER XXXV\nQUEEN GUENEVER'S MAY-DAY RIDE AND WHAT CAME OF IT\nThus it passed on from Candlemas until after Easter, and soon the month\nof May was come, when every manly heart begins to blossom and to bring\nforth fruit. For as herbs and trees flourish in May, likewise every\nlusty heart springeth and flourisheth in lusty deeds, for more than any\nother month May giveth unto all men renewed courage, and calleth again\nto their mind old gentleness and old service, and many kind deeds that\nwere forgotten by negligence. Therefore, as the month of May flowereth\nand flourisheth in many gardens, so let every man of honour bring forth\nfruit in his heart, first unto God, and next unto the joy of them to\nwhom he has promised his faith.\nSo it befell in the month of May that Queen Guenever called unto her\nten knights of the Table Round, and she bade them ride with her\na-Maying on the morrow into the woods and fields near Westminster. And\n\"I bid you,\" said she, \"that ye all be well horsed, and that ye all be\nclothed in green, either silk or woollen, and I shall bring with me ten\nladies, and every knight shall have a lady behind him, and every knight\nshall have a squire and two yeomen.\"\nSo they made themselves ready in the freshest manner, and in the\nmorning rode with the Queen a-Maying in woods and meadows as it pleased\nthem in great joy and delight. The Queen purposed to be again with\nKing Arthur at the furthest by ten of the clock.\nNow there was a knight called Meliagrance, who had at that time a\ncastle, the gift of King Arthur, within seven miles of Westminster. He\nhad long lain in wait to steal away the Queen, but had feared to do the\nbase deed when Sir Launcelot was in her company. It was her custom at\nthat time never to ride without a great fellowship of men of arms about\nher, for the most part young men eager for honour, and called the\nQueen's knights. But this knight, Sir Meliagrance, had espied the\nQueen well and her purpose on this May morning, and had seen how Sir\nLauncelot was not with her, and how she had for this once no men of\narms with her but the ten noble knights all arrayed in green for\nMaying. Then he provided him twenty men of arms and a hundred archers,\nto destroy the Queen's knights, for he thought that time was the best\nseason to take the Queen prisoner.\nSo while the Queen and all her knights were gathering herbs and mosses\nand flowers in the best manner and freshest, just then there came out\nof a wood Sir Meliagrance with eight-score men, well armed, and bade\nthe Queen and her knights to stand.\n\"Traitor knight,\" said Queen Guenever, \"what intendest thou to do?\nWilt thou shame thyself? Bethink thee how thou art a king's son, and\nknight of the Table Round, and thou art about to dishonour the noble\nking that made thee knight; thou shamest all knighthood and thyself;\nbut me, I let thee wit, thou shalt never shame, for I had rather cut my\nthroat in twain than that thou shouldst dishonour me.\"\n\"As for all this language,\" said Sir Meliagrance, \"be it as it may,\nnever before could I get you at such advantage as I do now, and\ntherefore I will take you as I find you.\"\nAll the ten noble knights sought to dissuade him from dishonouring\nhimself and from forcing them to jeopard their lives, unarmed as they\nwere, in defending the Queen. But Sir Meliagrance would not yield, and\nthe ten knights of the Table Round drew their swords and stood manly\nagainst the spears and swords of the others. But Sir Meliagrance had\nthem at great advantage, and anon six of them were smitten to the earth\nwith grimly wounds. The other four fought long, but at last they also\nwere sore wounded.\nWhen the Queen saw that her knights needs must be slain at the last,\nshe for pity and sorrow agreed to go with Sir Meliagrance to his castle\nupon this covenant, that he suffer not her knights to be more hurt, and\nthat they be led wheresoever she was taken. \"For,\" said she, \"I will\nrather slay myself than go with thee, unless these my noble knights may\nbe in my presence.\"\nMeliagrance consented, and by the Queen's commandment they left battle.\nThe wounded knights were placed on horseback, some sitting, some across\nthe horses' backs in a pitiful manner, and all rode in haste to the\ncastle. Then Sir Meliagrance charged the Queen and all her knights\nthat no one should depart from her, for full sore he dreaded Sir\nLauncelot, lest he should have any knowledging.\nBut the Queen privily called unto her a page who could ride swiftly,\ngave him her ring, and told him to bear it, when he saw a chance to\nslip away quietly, unto Sir Launcelot of the Lake, and pray him to\nrescue her. \"And spare thou not thy horse,\" said she, \"neither for\nwater nor for land.\"\nSo the page espied his time, and lightly he touched his horse with the\nspurs, and departed as fast as he might. Sir Meliagrance saw him so\nflee, and understood that it was to warn Sir Launcelot. Then they that\nwere best horsed chased him and shot at him, but he escaped them all,\nand anon found Sir Launcelot. And when he had told his message, and\ndelivered him the Queen's ring, \"Alas,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"now am I\nshamed forever, unless that I may rescue that noble lady from\ndishonour.\"\nThen he eagerly called for his armour, and ever the page told him how\nthe ten knights had fought marvellously, till at last the Queen made\nappointment to go with Sir Meliagrance for to save their lives.\n\"Alas,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"that most noble lady, that she should be\nso destroyed! I would give all France to have been there well armed.\"\nSo when Sir Launcelot was armed and upon his horse, he sent the Queen's\npage to tell Sir Lavaine how suddenly he had departed, and for what\ncause, and to pray him to come anon to the castle where Sir Meliagrance\nabideth.\nSir Launcelot, it is said, took to the water at Westminster bridge and\nmade his horse swim over the Thames to Lambeth; and then he rode as\nfast as he might, until within a while he came to the place where the\nten knights had fought with Sir Meliagrance. He then followed the path\nuntil he came to a straight way through the wood. Here he was stopped\nby thirty archers that Sir Meliagrance had sent out to slay Sir\nLauncelot's horse, but in no wise to have ado with him bodily, \"for,\"\nhe had said, \"he is overhard to overcome.\" These archers bade Sir\nLauncelot to turn again and follow no longer that track, and when Sir\nLauncelot gave right naught for them, then they shot his horse, and\nsmote him with many arrows. Sir Launcelot now set out on foot, but\nthere were so many ditches and hedges betwixt the archers and him that\nhe could not meddle with any one of them.\nHe went on a while, but was much cumbered by his armour, his shield,\nand his spear. Wit ye well he was sore annoyed at his slow progress,\nbut was loath to leave anything that belonged unto him, for he dreaded\nsore the treason of Sir Meliagrance.\nJust then by chance there came by a cart, that was sent thither to\nfetch wood. \"Tell me, carter,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"what shall I give\nthee to take me in thy cart unto a castle within two miles of here?\"\n\"Thou shalt not set foot in my cart,\" said the man, \"for I am sent to\nfetch wood for my lord Sir Meliagrance.\"\nThen Sir Launcelot jumped upon him and gave the man such a blow that he\nfell to the earth stark dead. Then the other carter, his fellow, was\nafraid of going the same way, and cried out, \"Fair lord, save my life\nand I will bring you where ye will.\"\nSir Launcelot leaped into the cart, and the carter drove at a great\ngallop, Sir Launcelot's horse following after with more than forty\narrows in him.\nMore than an hour and a half later, Queen Guenever was in a bay window\nof the castle with her ladies, and espied an armed knight approaching,\nstanding in a cart.\n\"See, madam,\" said a lady to her, \"there rideth in a cart a goodly\narmed knight; I suppose he rideth to hanging.\"\nThen the Queen espied by his shield that Sir Launcelot of the Lake\nhimself was there. \"Alas,\" said the Queen; \"now I see that well is it\nwith him who hath a trusty friend. Ah, most noble knight, I see well\nthou are hard bestead, when thou ridest in a cart.\"\nBy this time Sir Launcelot had come to the gates of that castle, and\nthere he descended from the cart, and cried so that all the castle\nrang: \"Where art thou, false traitor Sir Meliagrance, and knight of the\nTable Round? Now come forth here, thou traitor knight, thou and thy\nfellowship with thee, for here I am, Sir Launcelot of the Lake, that\nshall fight with thee.\"\nWith these words he burst the gate wide open upon the porter, and smote\nhim under his ear with his gauntlet so that he staggered back like a\ndead man. When Sir Meliagrance heard that Sir Launcelot was there, he\nran unto Queen Guenever and fell upon his knees, putting himself wholly\nat her mercy, and begging her to control the wrath of Sir Launcelot.\n\"Better is peace than ever war,\" said the Queen, \"and the less noise\nthe more is my honour.\"\nSo she and her ladies went down to Sir Launcelot, thanked him for all\nhis trouble in her behalf, told him of Meliagrance's repentance, and\nbade him come in peaceably with her.\n\"Madam,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"if ye are accorded with him, I am not\ninclined to be against peace, howbeit Sir Meliagrance hath done full\nshamefully to me, and cowardly. Ah, madam, had I known ye would be so\nsoon accorded with him, I would not have made such haste unto you.\"\n\"What,\" said the Queen, \"do ye repent of your good deeds? Wit ye well\nI never made peace with him for labour or love that I had unto him, but\nto suppress all shameful noise.\"\n\"Madam,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"ye understand full well I was never glad\nof shameful slander nor noise; and there is neither king, queen, nor\nknight alive except my lord King Arthur and you, madam, that should\nhinder me from making Sir Meliagrance's heart full cold or ever I\ndeparted from hence.\"\nThen the Queen and Sir Launcelot went in together, and she commanded\nhim to be unarmed. Then he asked where the ten knights were that were\nwounded sore. So she led Sir Launcelot to them, and they made great\njoy of his coming, and he made great dole of their hurts, and bewailed\nthem greatly. And then Sir Launcelot told them how he had been obliged\nto put himself into a cart. Thus they complained each to other, and\nfull gladly would they have been revenged, but they restrained\nthemselves because of the Queen. So Sir Launcelot was called for many\na day thereafter the Chevalier of the Cart, and he did many deeds, and\ngreat adventures he had. And so we leave this tale of the Knight of\nthe Cart, and turn to others.\nCHAPTER XXXVI\nOF THE PLOT AGAINST SIR LAUNCELOT\nIn this same month of May when every lusty heart flourisheth and\nbourgeoneth, there befell in King Arthur's realm a great anger and ill\nfortune that stinted not till the flower of chivalry of all the world\nwas destroyed. And all was due to two evil knights, the which were\nnamed Sir Agravaine and Sir Mordred, that were nephews unto King Arthur\nand brethren unto Sir Gawaine. For this Sir Agravaine and Sir Mordred\nhad ever a privy hate unto the Queen, Dame Guenever, and to Sir\nLauncelot, and daily and nightly they ever watched upon him.\nSo it mishapped that Sir Agravaine on a day said openly, so that many\nknights might hear, that the friendship between Sir Launcelot and the\nQueen was a disgrace to knighthood and a shame to so noble a king as\nArthur. But Sir Gawaine would not hear any of these tales nor be of\nAgravaine's counsel; moreover he charged his brother to move no such\nmatters afore him, for he wist well what mischief would come, should\nwar arise betwixt Sir Launcelot and the King, and he remembered how\nofttimes Sir Launcelot had proved his goodness and loyalty by knightly\ndeeds. Also Sir Gaheris and Sir Gareth, two other brethren, would know\nnothing of Agravaine's base accusation.\nBut Sir Mordred, the fifth of the brethren, sons of the Queen of\nOrkney, the which had mocked the good Percivale when first he came to\nthe court, and who had ever been jealous and ready to think evil of\nanother, joined with Sir Agravaine. Therewithal they three, Sir\nGawaine, Sir Gaheris, and Sir Gareth departed, making great dole over\nthe mischief that threatened the destruction of the realm and the\ndispersion of the noble fellowship of the Round Table.\nSo Sir Agravaine and Sir Mordred came before King Arthur, and told him\nthey might no longer suffer Sir Launcelot's deeds, for he was a traitor\nto his kingly person. But the King would believe nothing unless he\nmight have proofs of it, for, as the French book saith, he was full\nloath to hear ill of a knight who had done so much for him and for the\nQueen so many times that, as was fully known, he loved him passingly\nwell.\nThen these two brethren made a plot for taking Sir Launcelot when in\nthe Queen's presence, and bringing him dead or quick to King Arthur.\nSo on the morn Sir Agravaine and Sir Mordred gat to them twelve knights\nand hid themselves in a chamber in the castle of Carlisle, where Queen\nGuenever was; thus they plotted to take Sir Launcelot by force, if she\nshould have speech with him. Sir Launcelot was no coward, and cared\nnot what liars said about him, since he wist his own good will and\nloyalty. So when the Queen sent for him to speak with her, he went as\ntrue knight to the castle, and fell into the trap that was set for him.\nIn the battle that followed he was hard bestead, but slew Sir Agravaine\nat the first buffet, and within a little while he laid the twelve\nchosen knights cold to the earth. Also he wounded Sir Mordred, who,\nwhen he escaped from the noble Sir Launcelot, anon gat his horse and\nrode unto King Arthur, sore wounded and all bleeding.\nThen he told the King how it was, and how they were all slain save\nhimself only. So the King believed Sir Mordred's evil accusation true,\nand he said: \"Alas, me sore repenteth that ever Sir Launcelot should be\nagainst me. Now am I sure the noble fellowship of the Round Table is\nbroken for ever, for with him will many a noble knight hold. And now\nit is fallen so that I may not keep my honour unless the Queen suffer\nthe death.\"\nSo then there was made great ordinance that the Queen must be judged to\nthe death, for the law was such in those days that whatsoever they\nwere, of what estate or degree, if they were found guilty of treason,\nthere should be none other remedy but death. Right so it was ordained\nfor Queen Guenever, and she was commanded to the fire, there to be\nburned.\nKing Arthur prayed Sir Gawaine to make himself ready in his best\narmour, with his brethren Sir Gaheris and Sir Gareth, to bring the\nQueen to the fire, there to have her judgment, and receive the death.\nBut Sir Gawaine ever believed Dame Guenever guiltless of the treason\ncharged against her, and he would never have it said that he had any\npart in her shameful end. Sir Gaheris and Sir Gareth also were loath\nto be there present, but they were young, and full unable to say him\nnay. \"If we be there by your straight commandment,\" said they, \"ye\nshall plainly hold us excused though we go in peaceable wise, and bear\nnone harness of war upon us.\"\nSo the Queen was led forth without Carlisle, and she prepared herself\nfor death. There was weeping and wailing and wringing of hands of many\nlords and ladies, and few in comparison there present would bear any\narmour for to keep order.\nAnon as the fire was to be lighted, there was spurring and plucking up\nof horses, and right so Sir Launcelot and his followers came hither,\nand whoever stood against them was slain. And so in this rushing and\nhurling, as Sir Launcelot pressed here and there, it mishapped him to\nslay Gaheris and Gareth, the noble knights, for they were unarmed and\nunaware. In truth Sir Launcelot saw them not, and so were they found\ndead among the thickest of the press.\nThen when Sir Launcelot had thus done, and had slain or put to flight\nall that would withstand him, he rode straight unto Dame Guenever, and\nmade her to be set behind him on his horse, and prayed her to be of\ngood cheer. Wit ye well the Queen was glad that she was escaped from\nthe death, and then she thanked God and Sir Launcelot.\nAnd so he rode his way with the Queen, as the French book saith, unto\nJoyous Gard, his own castle, where Sir Tristram had taken the Fair\nIsoud after her flight from Cornwall. There Sir Launcelot kept\nGuenever as a noble knight should do, and many great lords and some\nkings sent him many good knights, and many noble knights drew unto Sir\nLauncelot.\nWhen it was known openly that King Arthur and Sir Launcelot were at\ndebate, many were full heavy of heart, and the King himself swooned for\npure sorrow, as it was told him how and in what wise the Queen was\ntaken away from the fire, and as he heard of the death of his noble\nknights, in especial that of Sir Gaheris and Sir Gareth. And when he\nawoke of his swoon, he said: \"Alas that ever I bare crown upon my head,\nfor now have I lost the fairest fellowship of noble knights that ever\nChristian king held together. Alas that ever this war began. The\ndeath of these two brethren will cause the greatest mortal war that\never was, for I am sure, wist Sir Gawaine that Sir Gareth were slain, I\nshould never have rest of him till I had destroyed Sir Launcelot's kin\nand himself, or else he had destroyed me. Ah, Agravaine, Agravaine,\nJesu forgive it thy soul, for the evil will thou and thy brother Sir\nMordred haddest unto Sir Launcelot hath caused all this sorrow.\"\nCHAPTER XXXVII\nHOW SIR LAUNCELOT DEPARTED FROM THE KING\n AND FROM JOYOUS GARD\nThere came one unto Sir Gawaine, and told him how the Queen was led\naway by Sir Launcelot, and nigh a twenty-four knights slain.\n\"Full well wist I,\" said then Sir Gawaine, \"that Sir Launcelot would\nrescue her, or else he would die in that field. To say the truth, had\nhe not rescued the Queen he would not have been a man of honour,\ninasmuch as she was to have been burned for his sake. He hath done but\nknightly, and as I would have done myself, had I stood in like case.\nBut where are my brethren? I marvel I hear not of them.\"\nThen the man told him that Sir Gareth and Sir Gaheris were slain, both\nby the hand of Launcelot. \"That may I not believe,\" said Sir Gawaine,\n\"that he slew my brother Sir Gareth, for I dare say Gareth loved him\nbetter than me and all his brethren, and the King also. Sir Launcelot\nmade him knight, and had he desired my brother Sir Gareth with him, he\nwould have been with him against the King and us all. Therefore I may\nnever believe that Sir Launcelot slew my brother.\"\nWhen at the last he knew in truth that Sir Gareth and Sir Gaheris had\ndied by Sir Launcelot's hand, all his joy was gone. He fell down in a\nswoon, and long he lay there as he had been dead. When he arose of his\nswoon he ran to the King crying, and weeping, and said: \"O King Arthur,\nmy lord and mine uncle, wit ye well, from this day I shall never fail\nSir Launcelot, until the one of us have slain the other. Therefore\ndress you to the war, for wit ye well I will be revenged upon him.\"\nUnto King Arthur now drew many knights, dukes, and earls, so that he\nhad a great host. Then they made them ready to lay siege about Sir\nLauncelot, where he lay within Joyous Gard. Thereof heard Sir\nLauncelot, and he gathered together his followers, for with him held\nmany good knights, some for his own sake, and some for the Queen's\nsake. Thus they were on both sides well furnished and provided with\nall manner of things that belonged to the war.\nBut Sir Launcelot was full loath to do battle against the King, and so\nhe withdrew into his strong castle with all manner of victual and as\nmany noble men as might suffice, and for a long time would in no wise\nride out, neither would he allow any of his good knights to issue out,\nthough King Arthur with Sir Gawaine came and laid a siege all about\nJoyous Gard, both at the town and at the castle.\nThen it befell upon a day in harvest time, Sir Launcelot looked over\nthe walls, and spake on high unto King Arthur and Sir Gawaine: \"My\nlords both, wit ye well all is in vain that ye make at this siege; here\nwin ye no honour, for if I list to come out with my good knights, I\nshould full soon make an end of this war. But God defend me, that ever\nI should encounter with the most noble King that made me knight.\"\n\"Fie upon thy fair language,\" said the King; \"come forth, if thou\ndarest. Wit thou well, I am thy mortal foe, and ever shall be to my\ndeath day, for thou hast slain my good knights and full noble men of my\nblood, and like a traitor hast taken my Queen from me by force.\"\n\"My most noble lord and king,\" answered Sir Launcelot, \"ye may say what\nye will, for ye wot well with yourself I will not strive. I wot well\nthat I have slain your good knights, and that me sore repenteth; but I\nwas forced to do battle with them in saving of my life, or else I must\nhave suffered them to slay me. And as for my lady, Queen Guenever,\nexcept your highness and my lord Sir Gawaine, there is no knight under\nheaven that dare make it good upon me, that ever I was traitor unto\nyour person, and I will prove it upon any knight alive, except you and\nSir Gawaine, that my lady Queen Guenever is as true and loyal unto you\nas any living unto her lord. Howbeit, it hath pleased her good grace\nto have me in charity, and to cherish me more than any other knight,\nand unto my power I in return have deserved her love; for ofttimes, my\nlord, it fortuned me to do battle for her, and ye thanked me when I\nsaved her life. Now me thinketh ye reward me full ill for my good\nservice, and me seemeth I had lost a great part of my honour in my\nknighthood, had I suffered my lady your queen to be burned, inasmuch as\nshe was to be burned for my sake. For, since I have done battle for\nyour queen in other quarrels than in mine own, me seemeth now I had\nmore right to do battle for her in right quarrel. Therefore, my good\nand gracious lord, take your queen unto your good grace, for she is\nboth fair, true, and good.\"\n\"Fie on thy proud words,\" said Sir Gawaine; \"as for my lady the Queen,\nI will never say of her shame, but thou false and recreant knight, what\ncause hadst thou to slay my good brother Sir Gareth, that loved thee\nmore than all my kin? Alas, thou madest him knight with thine own\nhands; why slewest thou him that loved thee so well?\"\n\"For to excuse myself,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"it helpeth me not, but by\nthe faith I owe to the high order of knighthood, I should with as good\nwill have slain my nephew Sir Bors of Ganis. Alas, that ever I was so\nunhappy that I had not seen Sir Gareth and Sir Gaheris.\"\nBut Sir Gawaine was mischievously set, and it helped not Sir Launcelot\nto seek accordment. King Arthur must needs unto battle because of his\nnephew's great anger, and on the morn he was ready in the field with\nthree great hosts. Then Sir Launcelot's fellowship came out at three\ngates in a full good array, in order and rule as noble knights. And\nalways Sir Launcelot charged all his knights in any wise to save King\nArthur and Sir Gawaine.\nThen began a great battle, and much people was slain. Ever Sir\nLauncelot did what he might to save the people on King Arthur's side,\nand ever King Arthur was nigh about Sir Launcelot to slay him. Sir\nLauncelot suffered him, and would not strike again; but at the last Sir\nBors encountered with King Arthur, and with a spear smote him down. He\nalighted and drew his sword to slay him, and then he said to Sir\nLauncelot, \"Shall I make an end of this war?\"\n\"Not so hardy,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"upon pain of thy head, touch him\nno further, for I will never see that most noble king, that made me\nknight, either slain or shamed.\"\nTherewithal Sir Launcelot alighted oft his horse and took up the King,\nand horsed him again, and said thus: \"My lord Arthur, for God's love\nstint this strife, for ye get here no honour, if I will to do mine\nuttermost; always I forbear you, but neither you nor any of yours\nforbeareth me. My lord, remember what I have done in many places, and\nnow I am evil rewarded.\"\nWhen King Arthur was again on horseback, he looked upon Sir Launcelot,\nand then the tears burst out of his eyes, thinking on the great\ncourtesy that was in Sir Launcelot, more than in any other man.\nTherewith the King might no longer behold him, and he rode his way,\nsaying, \"Alas that ever this war began.\"\nAnd then both sides withdrew to repose themselves, to bury the dead,\nand to lay soft salves on the wounded. Thus they passed the night, but\non the morn they made ready again to do battle. At the end of this day\nalso Sir Launcelot and his party stood better, but for pity he withheld\nhis knights, and suffered King Arthur's party to withdraw one side, and\nSir Launcelot again returned into his castle.\nSo the war went on day after day. It was noised through all\nChristendom, and at the last it was noised afore the Pope. He,\nconsidering the great goodness of King Arthur and of Sir Launcelot,\nthat were called the noblest knights of the world, called unto him a\nnoble clerk, that at that time was there present,--the French book\nsaith it was the Bishop of Rochester,--and gave him bulls unto King\nArthur of England, charging him upon pain of interdicting of all\nEngland, that he take his queen, Dame Guenever, unto him again, and\naccord with Sir Launcelot.\nSo when this bishop was come to Carlisle he showed the King the bulls,\nand by their means peace was made between King Arthur and Sir\nLauncelot. With great pomp and ceremony Sir Launcelot rode with the\nQueen from Joyous Gard to Carlisle, and they knelt before King Arthur,\nthat was full gladly accorded with them both. But Sir Gawaine would\nnever be at peace with the knight that had slain his brethren.\n\"The King may take his Queen again, if he will,\" said Sir Gawaine to\nSir Launcelot, \"and may be accorded with thee, but thou and I are past\npardon. Thou shalt go from Carlisle safe, as thou camest, but in this\nland thou shalt not abide past fifteen days, such summons I give\nthee;--so the King and I were consented and accorded ere thou camest\nhither, and else, wit thou well, thou shouldest not have come here\nexcept without thy head. If it were not for the Pope's commandment, I\nshould do battle with mine own body against thy body, and prove it upon\nthee that thou hast been both false unto mine uncle and to me, and that\nshall I prove upon thy body when thou art departed from hence,\nwheresoever I find thee.\"\nThen Sir Launcelot sighed, and therewith the tears fell on his cheeks,\nand he said: \"Alas, most noble Christian realm, that I have loved above\nall others, in thee have I gotten a great part of my honour, and now I\nshall depart in this wise. Truly me repenteth that ever I came in this\nrealm that I should be thus shamefully banished, undeserved, and\ncauseless. But fortune is so variant, and the wheel so movable, there\nis no constant abiding. Wit ye well, Sir Gawaine, I may live upon my\nlands as well as any knight that here is. And if ye, most redoubted\nKing, will come upon my lands with Sir Gawaine, to war upon me, I must\nendure you as well as I may. But as to you, Sir Gawaine, if that ye\ncome there, I pray you charge me not with treason or felony, for if ye\ndo, I must answer you.\"\nThen Sir Launcelot said unto Guenever, in hearing of the King and them\nall, \"Madam, now I must depart from you and this noble fellowship for\never; and since it is so, I beseech you to pray for me, and say me\nwell; and if ye be hard bestead by any false tongues lightly, my lady,\nlet send me word, and if any knight's hands may deliver you by battle,\nI shall deliver you.\"\nTherewithal Sir Launcelot kissed the Queen, and then he said all\nopenly: \"Now let see what he be in this place, that dare say the Queen\nis not true unto my lord Arthur; let see who will speak, if he dare.\"\nThen he brought her to the King, and so took his leave and departed.\nAnd there was neither king, duke nor earl, baron nor knight, lady nor\ngentlewoman, but all they wept as people out of their mind, except Sir\nGawaine; and when the noble Sir Launcelot took his horse, to ride out\nof Carlisle, there was sobbing and weeping for pure dole of his\ndeparting. So he took his way unto Joyous Gard, that ever after he\ncalled Dolorous Gard, and thus left the court for ever.\nCHAPTER XXXVIII\nHOW KING ARTHUR AND SIR GAWAINE INVADED\n SIR LAUNCELOT'S REALM\nWhen Sir Launcelot came again to Joyous Gard from Carlisle, he called\nhis fellowship unto him, and asked them what they would do. Then they\nanswered all wholly together with one voice, they would as he would do.\n\"My fair fellows,\" said he: \"I must depart out of this most noble\nrealm. And now I am to depart, it grieveth me sore, for I shall depart\nwith no honour. A banished man departed never out of any realm with\nhonour; and that is my heaviness, for ever I fear that after my days\nthey will chronicle upon me that I was banished out of this land.\"\nThen spake many noble knights: \"Sir, we will never fail. Since it\nliked us to take a part with you in your distress and heaviness in this\nrealm, wit ye well it shall like us as well to go in other countries\nwith you, and there to take such part as ye do.\"\n\"My fair lords,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"I well understand you, and, as I\ncan, thank you. And ye shall understand, such livelihood and lands as\nI am born unto I shall freely share among you, and I myself will have\nas little as any of you, for if I have sufficient for my personal\nneeds, I will ask none other rich array; and I trust to God to maintain\nyou on my lands as well as ever were maintained any knights.\"\nThen spake all the knights at once: \"He have shame that will leave you.\nWe all understand in this realm will be now no quiet, but ever strife\nand debate, now the fellowship of the Round Table is broken; for by the\nnoble fellowship of the Round Table was King Arthur upborne, and by\ntheir nobleness the King and all his realm was in quiet and in rest.\nAnd a great part,\" they said all, \"was because of your nobleness.\"\nSo, to make short tale, they packed up, and paid all that would ask\nthem, and wholly an hundred knights departed with Sir Launcelot at\nonce, and made avows they would never leave him for weal nor for woe.\nThey shipped at Cardiff, and sailed unto Benwick. But to say the\nsooth, Sir Launcelot and his nephews were lords of all France, and of\nall the lands that belong unto France through Sir Launcelot's noble\nprowess. When he had established all these countries, he shortly\ncalled a parliament, and appointed officers for his realm. Thus Sir\nLauncelot rewarded his noble knights and many more, that me seemeth it\nwere too long to rehearse.\nNow leave we Sir Launcelot in his lands, and his noble knights with\nhim, and return we again unto King Arthur and to Sir Gawaine, that made\na great host ready, to the number of three-score thousand. All things\nwere made ready for their shipping to pass over the sea, and so they\nshipped at Cardiff. And there King Arthur made Sir Mordred chief ruler\nof all England, and also he put Queen Guenever under his governance.\nSo King Arthur passed over the sea, and landed upon Sir Launcelot's\nlands, and there burned and wasted, through the vengeance of Sir\nGawaine, all that they might overrun.\nWhen this word came to Sir Launcelot, that King Arthur and Sir Gawaine\nwere landed upon his lands, and made a full destruction and waste, then\nsaid Sir Lionel, that was ware and wise: \"My Lord, Sir Launcelot, I\nwill give you this counsel: Let us keep our strong walled towns until\nthey have hunger and cold, and blow upon their nails, and then let us\nfreshly set upon them, and shred them down as sheep in a field, that\naliens may take ensample for ever how they set foot upon our lands.\"\nThen said Sir Galihud unto Sir Launcelot, \"Sir, here be knights come of\nking's blood that will not long droop; therefore give us leave, like as\nwe be knights, to meet them in the field, and we shall slay them, that\nthey shall curse the time that ever they came into this country.\"\nThen spake all at once seven brethren of North Wales,--and they were\nseven noble knights, a man might seek in seven lands ere he might find\nsuch seven knights: \"Sir Launcelot, let us ride out with Sir Galihud,\nfor we be never wont to cower in castle, or in noble towns.\"\nBut then spake Sir Launcelot, that was master and governor of them all:\n\"My fair lords, wit ye well I am full loath to ride out with my\nknights, for shedding of Christian blood; and yet my lands I understand\nto be full bare to sustain any host a while, for the mighty wars that\nwhilom made King Claudas upon this country, upon my father King Ban and\non mine uncle King Bors. Howbeit we will at this time keep our strong\nwalls, and I shall send a messenger unto my lord Arthur, a treaty for\nto take, for better is peace than always war.\"\nSo he sent forth a damsel, and a dwarf with her, requiring King Arthur\nto leave his warring upon his lands. When she came to the pavilion of\nKing Arthur there met her a gentle knight, Sir Lucan the butler, and\nwhen he knew that she was a messenger from Sir Launcelot to the King he\nsaid: \"I pray God, damsel, ye may speed well. My Lord Arthur would\nlove Launcelot, but Sir Gawaine will not suffer him.\"\nSo Lucan led the damsel unto the King, and when she had told her tale,\nall the lords were full glad to advise him to be accorded with Sir\nLauncelot, save only Sir Gawaine, who would not turn again, now that\nthey were past thus far upon the journey.\n\"Wit ye well, Sir Gawaine,\" said Arthur, \"I will do as ye will advise\nme; and yet me seemeth his fair proffers were not good to be refused.\"\nThen Sir Gawaine sent the damsel away with the answer that it was now\ntoo late for peace. And so the war went on. Sir Launcelot was never\nso loath to do battle, but he must needs defend himself; and when King\nArthur's host besieged Benwick round about, and fast began to set up\nladders, then Sir Launcelot beat them from the walls mightily.\nThen upon a day it befell that Sir Gawaine came before the gates fully\narmed on a noble horse, with a great spear in his hand, and cried with\na loud voice: \"Where art thou now, thou false traitor, Launcelot? Why\nhidest thou thyself within holes and walls like a coward? Look out\nnow, thou false traitor knight, and here I shall revenge upon thy body\nthe death of my three brethren.\"\nAll this language heard Sir Launcelot, and he wist well that he must\ndefend himself, or else be recreant. So he armed himself at all\npoints, and mounted upon his horse, and gat a great spear in his hand,\nand rode out at the gate. And both the hosts were assembled, of them\nwithout and of them within, and stood in array full manly. And both\nparties were charged to hold them still, to see and behold the battle\nof these two noble knights.\nThen they laid their spears in their rests, and came together as\nthunder. Sir Gawaine brake his spear upon Sir Launcelot in an hundred\npieces unto his hand, and Sir Launcelot smote him with a greater might,\nso that Sir Gawaine's horse's feet raised, and the horse and he fell to\nthe earth. Then they dressed their shields and fought with swords on\nfoot, giving many sad strokes, so that all men on both parties had\nthereof passing great wonder. But Sir Launcelot withheld his courage\nand his wind, and kept himself wonderly covert of his might. Under his\nshield he traced and traversed here and there, to break Sir Gawaine's\nstrokes and his courage, and Sir Gawaine enforced himself with all his\nmight to destroy Sir Launcelot.\nAt the first ever Sir Gawaine's power increased, and right so his wind\nand his evil will. For a time Sir Launcelot had great pain to defend\nhimself, but when three hours were passed, and Sir Launcelot felt that\nSir Gawaine was come to his full strength, then Sir Launcelot said, \"I\nfeel that ye have done your mighty deeds; now wit you well I must do my\ndeeds.\"\nSo he doubled his strokes, and soon smote such a buffet upon Sir\nGawaine's helm that he sank down upon his side in a swoon. Anon as he\ndid awake, he waved at Sir Launcelot as he lay, and said, \"Traitor\nknight, wit thou well I am not yet slain; come thou near me, and\nperform this battle unto the uttermost.\"\n\"I will no more do than I have done,\" said Sir Launcelot. \"When I see\nyou on foot I will do battle upon you all the while I see you stand on\nyour feet; but to smite a wounded man, that may not stand, God defend\nme from such a shame.\"\nThen he turned and went his way towards the city, and Sir Gawaine,\nevermore calling him traitor knight, said, \"Wit thou well, Sir\nLauncelot, when I am whole, I shall do battle with thee again; for I\nshall never leave thee till one of us be slain.\"\nThus this siege endured. Sir Gawaine lay sick near a month, and when\nhe was well recovered, and ready within three days to do battle again\nwith Sir Launcelot, right so came tidings unto Arthur from England,\nthat made him and all his host to remove.\nCHAPTER XXXIX\nOF SIR MORDRED'S TREASON\nAs Sir Mordred was ruler of all England he did make letters as though\nthey came from beyond the sea, and the letters specified that King\nArthur was slain in battle with Sir Launcelot. Wherefore Sir Mordred\nmade a Parliament, and called the lords together, and there he made\nthem to choose him king. So was he crowned at Canterbury, and held a\nfeast there fifteen days. Afterwards he drew unto Winchester, and\nthere he took the Queen, Guenever, and said plainly that he would wed\nher which was his uncle's wife.\nSo he made ready for the feast, and a day was prefixed when they should\nbe wedded. Wherefore Queen Guenever was passing heavy, but she durst\nnot discover her heart, and spake fair, and agreed to Sir Mordred's\nwill. Then she desired of him for to go to London, to buy all manner\nof things that longed unto the wedding, and because of her fair speech\nSir Mordred trusted her well enough, and gave her leave to go. When\nshe came to London, she took the Tower of London, and suddenly, in all\nhaste possible, she stuffed it with all manner of victual, and well\ngarnished it with men, and so kept it.\nThen when Sir Mordred wist and understood how he was beguiled, he was\npassing wroth out of measure. And, a short tale for to make, he went\nand laid a mighty siege about the Tower of London, and made many great\nassaults thereat, and threw many great engines unto them, and shot\ngreat guns. But all might not prevail Sir Mordred, because Queen\nGuenever, for fair speech nor for foul, would never trust to come in\nhis hands again.\nThen came the Bishop of Canterbury, the which was a noble clerk and an\nholy man, and thus he said to Sir Mordred: \"Sir, what will ye do? Will\nye first displease God, and then shame yourself and all knighthood?\nLeave this matter, or else I shall curse you with book and bell and\ncandle.\"\n\"Do thou thy worst,\" said Sir Mordred; \"wit thou well I shall defy\nthee.\"\n\"Sir,\" said the Bishop, \"and wit ye well I shall not fear me to do that\nI ought to do. Also, when ye noise that my lord Arthur is slain, that\nis not so, and therefore ye will make a foul work in this land.\"\n\"Peace, thou false priest,\" said Sir Mordred, \"for, if thou chafe me\nany more, I shall make strike off thy head.\"\nSo the Bishop departed, and did the curse in the haughtiest wise that\nmight be done. Then Sir Mordred sought the Bishop of Canterbury for to\nslay him, and he fled, and, taking part of his goods with him, went\nnigh unto Glastonbury, and there lived in poverty and in holy prayers\nas priest-hermit in a chapel, for well he understood that mischievous\nwar was at hand.\nThen came word to Sir Mordred that King Arthur had raised the siege\nfrom Sir Launcelot, and was coming homeward with a great host, to be\navenged upon Sir Mordred. Wherefore Sir Mordred made write writs to\nall the barony of this land, and much people drew to him, for then was\nthe common voice among them, that with Arthur was none other life but\nwar and strife, and with Sir Mordred was great joy and bliss. Thus was\nSir Arthur depraved and evil said of, and many there were that King\nArthur had made up of naught, and had given lands to, who might not\nthen say of him a good word.\nLo all ye Englishmen, see ye not what a mischief here was, for Arthur\nwas the most king and knight of the world, and most loved the\nfellowship of noble knights, and by him they were all upholden. Now\nmight not these Englishmen hold us content with him. Lo, thus was the\nold custom and usage of this land, and men say, that we of this land\nhave not yet lost nor forgotten that custom and usage. Alas, this is a\ngreat fault of all Englishmen, for there may no thing please us. And\nso fared the people at that time; they were better pleased with Sir\nMordred than they were with King Arthur, and much people drew unto Sir\nMordred, and said they would abide with him for better and for worse.\nSo Sir Mordred drew with a great host to Dover, for there he heard say\nthat Sir Arthur would arrive, and so he thought to beat his own uncle\nfrom his lands. And the most part of all England held with Sir\nMordred, the people were so new-fangle.\nAs Sir Mordred was at Dover with his host, there came King Arthur with\na great navy of ships, galleys, and carracks. And there was Sir\nMordred ready awaiting upon his landage, to keep his own uncle from\nlanding in the country that he was king over. Then there was launching\nof great boats and small, full of noble men of arms, and there was much\nslaughter of gentle knights, and many a bold baron was laid full low on\nboth sides. But King Arthur was so courageous that there might no\nmanner of knights prevent him from landing, and his knights fiercely\nfollowed him.\nSo they landed in spite of Sir Mordred and all his power, and they put\nhim aback, so that he fled and all his people. When this battle was\ndone, King Arthur let bury his dead, and then was the noble knight Sir\nGawaine found in a great boat lying more than half dead. When Sir\nArthur wist that Sir Gawaine was laid so low, he went unto him and made\nsorrow out of measure, for this sister's son was the man in the world\nthat he most loved. Sir Gawaine felt that he must die, for he was\nsmitten upon the old wound that Sir Launcelot had given him afore the\ncity of Benwick. He now knew that he was the cause of this unhappy\nwar, for had Sir Launcelot remained with the King, it would never have\nbeen, and now King Arthur would sore miss his brave knights of the\nRound Table.\nThen he prayed his uncle that he might have paper, pen, and ink, and\nwhen they were brought, he with his own hand wrote thus, as the French\nbook maketh mention: \"Unto Sir Launcelot, flower of all noble knights\nthat ever I heard of, or saw by my days, I, Sir Gawaine, King Lot's son\nof Orkney, sister's son unto the noble King Arthur, send thee greeting,\nand let thee have knowledge, that this tenth day of May, through the\nsame wound that thou gavest me I am come to my death. And I will that\nall the world wit that I, Sir Gawaine, knight of the Table Round,\nsought my death; it came not through thy deserving, but it was mine own\nseeking. Wherefore I beseech thee, Sir Launcelot, to return again unto\nthis realm, and see my tomb, and pray some prayer, more or less, for my\nsoul. For all the love that ever was betwixt us, make no tarrying, but\ncome over the sea in all haste, that thou mayest with thy noble knights\nrescue that noble king that made thee knight, that is my lord Arthur,\nfor he is full straitly bestead with a false traitor, my half-brother,\nSir Mordred. We all landed upon him and his host at Dover, and there\nput him to flight, and there it misfortuned me to be stricken in the\nsame wound the which I had of thy hand, Sir Launcelot. Of a nobler man\nmight I not be slain. This letter was written but two hours and an\nhalf afore my death, with mine own hand, and so subscribed with part of\nmy heart's blood.\"\nThen Sir Gawaine wept, and King Arthur wept, and then they swooned\nboth. When they awaked both, the King made Sir Gawaine to receive the\nsacrament, and then Sir Gawaine prayed the King to send for Sir\nLauncelot, and to cherish him above all other knights. And so at the\nhour of noon, Sir Gawaine yielded up the spirit, and the King let inter\nhim in a chapel within Dover Castle.\nThen was it told King Arthur that Sir Mordred had pitched a new field\nupon Barham Down. Upon the morn the King rode thither to him, and\nthere was a great battle betwixt them, and much people were slain on\nboth parties. But at the last Sir Arthur's party stood best, and Sir\nMordred and his party fled to Canterbury. Upon this much people drew\nunto King Arthur, and he went with his host down by the seaside,\nwestward towards Salisbury, and there was a day assigned between him\nand Sir Mordred when they should meet in battle upon a down beside\nSalisbury, not far from the sea.\nIn the night before the battle King Arthur dreamed a wonderful dream,\nand it seemed to him verily that there came Sir Gawaine unto him, and\nsaid; \"God giveth me leave to come hither for to warn you that, if ye\nfight to-morn with Sir Mordred, as ye both have assigned, doubt ye not\nye must be slain, and the most part of your people on both parties.\nFor the great grace and goodness that Almighty Jesu hath unto you, and\nfor pity of you and many other good men that there shall be slain, God\nhath sent me to you, of His special grace, to give you warning, that in\nno wise ye do battle to-morn, but that ye take a treaty for a month;\nand proffer ye largely, so as to-morn to be put in delay, for within a\nmonth shall come Sir Launcelot, with all his noble knights, and rescue\nyou honourably, and slay Sir Mordred and all that ever will hold with\nhim.\"\nThen Sir Gawaine vanished, and anon the King commanded Sir Lucan and\nhis brother, Sir Bedivere, with two bishops with them, and charged them\nto take a treaty for a month with Sir Mordred in any wise they might.\nSo then they departed, and came to Sir Mordred, where he had a grim\nhost of an hundred thousand men. There they entreated Sir Mordred long\ntime, and at the last he was agreed to have Cornwall and Kent by King\nArthur's days, and after the days of King Arthur all England.\nCHAPTER XL\nOF ARTHUR'S LAST GREAT BATTLE IN THE WEST\nSir Lucan and Sir Bedivere were agreed with Sir Mordred that King\nArthur and he should meet betwixt both their hosts, for to conclude the\ntreaty they had made, and every each of them should bring fourteen\npersons. And they came with this word unto King Arthur. Then said he,\n\"I am glad that this is done.\"\nSo Arthur made ready to go into the field, and when he would depart, he\nwarned all his hosts that if they saw any sword drawn, they should come\non fiercely, and slay that traitor Sir Mordred, for he in no wise\ntrusted him. In like manner Sir Mordred warned his host: \"If ye see\nany sword drawn, look that ye come on fiercely, and so slay all that\never before you stand, for in no wise will I trust for this treaty. I\nknow well mine uncle will be avenged upon me.\"\nSo they met as their appointment was, and they were agreed and accorded\nthoroughly; and wine was fetched, and they drank. Right so came an\nadder out of a little heath bush, and it stung a knight on the foot.\nWhen the knight felt himself stung, he looked down and saw the adder;\nthen he drew his sword to slay the adder, and thought of none other\nharm. But when the hosts on both parties saw the sword drawn, then\nthey blew trumpets, and horns, and shouted grimly. And so both hosts\ndressed them together.\nKing Arthur took his horse, and said, \"Alas this unhappy day,\" and so\nrode to his party; and Sir Mordred did likewise. And never was there\nseen a dolefuller battle in any Christian land, for there was but\nrushing and riding, foining, and striking, and many a grim word was\nthere spoken either to other, and there was given many a deadly stroke.\nThus they fought all the long day, and never stinted, till the noble\nknights were laid to the cold ground. And ever they fought still, till\nit was near night, and by that time were there an hundred thousand laid\ndead upon the down.\nThen the King looked about him, and was ware, that of all his host and\nof all his good knights were left no more alive but two knights, that\nwas Sir Lucan the butler, and his brother Sir Bedivere, and even they\nwere full sore wounded.\n\"Jesu, mercy,\" said the King, \"where are all my noble knights become?\nAlas that ever I should see this doleful day. Now I am come to mine\nend. But would to God that I wist where is that traitor Sir Mordred,\nthat hath caused all this mischief.\"\nThen was King Arthur ware where Sir Mordred leaned upon his sword among\na great heap of dead men. \"Now give me my spear,\" said Arthur unto Sir\nLucan, \"for yonder I have espied the traitor that all this woe hath\nwrought.\"\n\"Sir, let him be,\" said Sir Lucan. \"If ye pass this evil day, ye shall\nbe right well revenged upon him. My lord remember ye of your night's\ndream, and what the spirit of Sir Gawaine told you last night. God of\nHis great goodness hath preserved you hitherto. Therefore, for God's\nsake, my lord, leave off with this. For blessed be God, ye have won\nthe field, for here we be three alive, and with Sir Mordred is none.\nIf ye leave off now, this wicked day of destiny is past.\"\n\"Tide me death, betide me life,\" saith the King, \"now I see him yonder\nalone, he shall never escape mine hands, for at a better avail shall I\nnever have him.\" Then he gat his spear in both his hands, and ran\ntowards Sir Mordred, crying, \"Traitor, now is thy death day come.\"\nWhen Sir Mordred heard Sir Arthur, he ran unto him with his sword drawn\nin his hand, and then King Arthur smote him under the shield with a\nfoin of his spear throughout the body. When Sir Mordred felt that he\nhad his death's wound, he thrust himself, with the might that he had,\nup to the bur of King Arthur's spear. And right so he smote his uncle\nArthur with his sword holden in both his hands, on the side of the head\nso that the sword pierced the helmet and the brain-pan, and therewithal\nSir Mordred fell stark dead to the earth.\nAnd the noble Arthur fell in a swoon to the earth, and there he swooned\nofttimes. And Sir Lucan and Sir Bedivere ofttimes heaved him up, and\nso weakly they led him betwixt them both to a little chapel not far\nfrom the seaside.\nCHAPTER XLI\nOF THE PASSING OF KING ARTHUR\nWhen the King was laid in the chapel he thought himself well eased.\nThen heard they people cry in the field, and Sir Lucan went out to wit\nwhat the noise betokened. As he went he saw and heard in the moonlight\nhow the plunderers and robbers were come into the battlefield to\npillage and rob many a full noble knight of rings and jewels; and who\nthat were not dead all out, there they slew them for their harness and\ntheir riches.\nWhen Sir Lucan understood this work, he came to the King as soon as he\nmight, and told him all what he had heard and seen. \"Therefore by my\nadvice,\" said Sir Lucan, \"it is best that we bring you to some town.\"\n\"I would it were so,\" said the King, \"but I may not stand, my head\nworks so. Ah, Sir Launcelot, this day have I sore missed thee. Alas,\nthat ever I was against thee, for now have I my death, whereof Sir\nGawaine me warned in my dream.\"\nThen Sir Lucan and Sir Bedivere took up the King, and in the lifting\nthe King swooned, and Sir Lucan, that was grievously wounded in many\nplaces, also fell in a swoon with the lift, and therewith the noble\nknight died. When King Arthur came to himself again, he beheld Sir\nLucan dead and Sir Bedivere weeping for his brother, and he said: \"This\nis unto me a full heavy sight to see this noble duke so die for my\nsake, for he would have holpen me that had more need of help than I.\nYet, Sir Bedivere, weeping and mourning will not avail me; for wit thou\nwell, if I might live myself, the death of Sir Lucan would grieve me\nevermore. But my time hieth fast. Therefore, Sir Bedivere, take thou\nExcalibur, my good sword, and go with it to yonder waterside, and when\nthou comest there, I charge thee throw my sword in that water, and come\nagain, and tell me what thou there seest.\"\n\"My lord,\" said Bedivere, \"your commandment shall be done, and I will\nlightly bring you word again.\"\nSo Sir Bedivere departed, and by the way he beheld that noble sword,\nwhose pommel and haft were all of precious stones, and then he said to\nhimself, \"If I throw this rich sword in the water, thereof shall never\ncome good, but harm and loss.\"\nThen Sir Bedivere hid Excalibur under a tree, and as soon as he might\nhe came again unto the King, and said he had been at the water, and had\nthrown the sword into the water.\n\"What sawest thou there?\" said the King.\n\"Sir,\" he said, \"I saw nothing but waves and winds.\"\n\"That is untruly said of thee,\" said the King; \"therefore go thou\nlightly again, and do my command as thou art to me lief and dear; spare\nnot, but throw it.\"\nThen Sir Bedivere returned again, and took the sword in his hand; and\nthen him thought it sin and shame to throw away that noble sword. And\nso again he hid the sword, and returned, and told the King that he had\nbeen at the water, and done his commandment.\n\"What sawest thou there?\" said the King.\n\"Sir,\" he said, \"I saw nothing but the waters lap and the waves toss.\"\n\"Ah, traitor, untrue,\" said King Arthur, \"now hast thou betrayed me\ntwice. Who would have thought that thou that hast been to me so lief\nand dear, and that art named a noble knight, wouldest betray me for the\nriches of the sword. But now go again lightly, for thy long tarrying\nputteth me in great jeopardy of my life, for I have taken cold. And\nunless thou do now as I bid thee, if ever I may see thee, I shall slay\nthee with mine own hands, for thou wouldest for my rich sword see me\ndead.\"\nThen Sir Bedivere departed, and went to the sword, and lightly took it\nup, and went to the waterside. There he bound the girdle about the\nhilts, and then he threw the sword as far into the water as he might.\nAnd there came an arm and an hand above the water, and met it, and\ncaught it, and so shook it thrice and brandished, and then vanished\naway the hand with the sword in the water.\nSo Sir Bedivere came again to the King, and told him what he saw.\n\"Alas,\" said the King, \"help me thence, for I fear me I have tarried\nover long.\"\nThen Sir Bedivere took the King upon his back, and so went with him to\nthat waterside. And when they were at the waterside, even fast by the\nbank hove a little barge, with many fair ladies in it, and among them\nall was a queen, and all they had black hoods, and all they wept and\nshrieked when they saw King Arthur.\n[Illustration: The Passing of Arthur]\n\"Now put me into the barge,\" said the King; and so he did softly. And\nthere received him three queens with great mourning, and so they set\nhim down, and in one of their laps King Arthur laid his head, and then\nthat queen said, \"Ah, dear brother, why have ye tarried so long from\nme? Alas, this wound on your head hath caught over much cold.\"\nAnd so then they rowed from the land, and Sir Bedivere beheld all these\nladies go from him. Then he cried, \"Ah, my lord Arthur, what shall\nbecome of me now ye go from me, and leave me here alone among mine\nenemies!\"\n\"Comfort thyself,\" said the King, \"and do as well as thou mayest, for\nin me is no trust for to trust in. For I will into the vale of\nAvilion, to heal me of my grievous wound. And if thou hear never more\nof me, pray for my soul.\"\nEver the queens and the ladies wept and shrieked, that it was pity to\nhear. And as soon as Sir Bedivere had lost the sight of the barge he\nwept and wailed, and so took the forest, and he went all that night;\nand in the morning he was ware betwixt two ancient cliffs of a chapel\nand an hermitage, and he was glad.\nWhen he came into the chapel he saw a hermit praying by a tomb new\ngraven. The hermit was the Bishop of Canterbury that Sir Mordred had\nbanished, and Sir Bedivere asked him what man was there interred.\n\"Fair son,\" said the hermit, \"I wot not verily, but this night, at\nmidnight, here came a number of ladies, and brought hither a dead\ncorpse, and prayed me to bury him; and here they offered an hundred\ntapers, and gave me an hundred besants.\"\nThen Sir Bedivere knew that King Arthur lay buried in that chapel, and\nhe prayed the hermit that he might abide with him still there. So\nthere abode Sir Bedivere with the hermit, that was tofore Bishop of\nCanterbury, and there Sir Bedivere put on poor clothes, and served the\nhermit full lowly in fasting and in prayers.\nThus of Arthur I find never more written in books that be authorised,\nnor more of the certainty of his death heard I tell, but that he was\nthus led away in a ship wherein were three queens. The hermit that\nsome time was Bishop of Canterbury bare witness that ladies brought a\nknight to his burial in the chapel, but the hermit knew not in certain\nthat it was verily the body of King Arthur;--for this tale Sir\nBedivere, knight of the Round Table, made to be written.\nSome men still say in many parts of England that King Arthur is not\ndead, but tarried by the will of our Lord Jesu in another place. And\nmen say that he shall come again, and shall win the holy cross. I will\nnot say it shall be so, but rather I will say, here in this world he\nchanged his life. But many men say that there is written upon his tomb\nthese words: \"_Hic jacet Arthurus Rex quondam Rex que futurus_\": \"_Here\nlies Arthur, King that was and King that shall be._\"\nCHAPTER XLII\nOF THE END OF THIS BOOK\nWhen Queen Guenever understood that King Arthur was slain, and all the\nnoble knights, Sir Mordred and all the remnant, then she stole away,\nand five ladies with her, and so she went to Almesbury, and there she\nlet make herself a nun, and lived in fasting, prayers, and alms-deeds,\nthat all manner of people marvelled how virtuously she was changed.\nAnd there she was abbess and ruler, as reason would.\nWhen Sir Launcelot of the Lake heard in his country that Sir Mordred\nwas crowned king, and made war against his uncle, then he made all\nhaste with ships and galleys to go unto England. So he passed over the\nsea till he came to Dover. There the people told him how that King\nArthur was slain, and Sir Mordred, and an hundred thousand died on a\nday, and how Sir Mordred gave King Arthur there the first battle at his\nlanding, and how there was good Sir Gawaine slain. And then certain\npeople of the town brought him unto the castle of Dover, and showed him\nthe tomb. And he made a dole for Sir Gawaine, and all the priests and\nclerks that might be gotten in the country were there and sang mass of\nrequiem.\nTwo nights Sir Launcelot lay on Sir Gawaine's tomb in prayers and in\nweeping, and then on the third day he called his kings, dukes, earls,\nbarons, and knights, and said thus: \"My fair lords, I thank you all of\nyour coming into this country with me; but we come too late, and that\nshall repent me while I live, but against death may no man rebel.\nSince it is so, I will myself ride and seek my lady Queen Guenever,\nfor, as I hear say, she hath great pain and much disease. Therefore ye\nall abide me here fifteen days, and then, if I come not again, take\nyour ships and your fellowship, and depart into your country.\"\nSo Sir Launcelot rode forth alone on his journey into the west country.\nThere he sought seven or eight days, and at the last came to the\nnunnery where was Queen Guenever. Once only he had speech with her,\nand then took his horse and rode away to forsake the world, as she had\ndone.\nHe rode all that day and all that night in a forest, and at the last he\nwas ware of an hermitage and a chapel betwixt two cliffs. Thither he\nrode, and there found Sir Bedivere with the Bishop of Canterbury, for\nhe was come to their hermitage. And then he besought the Bishop that\nhe might remain there as a brother. The Bishop would gladly have it\nso, and there he put hermit's clothes upon Sir Launcelot, and there Sir\nLauncelot served God day and night with prayers and fasting.\nThe great host abode in Dover fifteen days, as Sir Launcelot had bidden\nthem. Then, since Sir Launcelot did not return, Sir Bors of Ganis made\nthem take ship and return home again to Benwick. But Sir Bors himself\nand others of Sir Launcelot's kin took on them to ride all England\nacross and endlong, to seek Sir Launcelot. So Sir Bors by fortune rode\nso long till he came to the same chapel where Sir Launcelot and Sir\nBedivere were, and he prayed the Bishop that he also might remain and\nbe of their fellowship. So there was an habit put upon him, and there\nhe lived in prayers and fasting. And within half a year there were\ncome seven other knights, and when they saw Sir Launcelot, they had no\nlist to depart, but took such an habit as he had.\nThus they remained in true devotion six years, and Sir Launcelot took\nthe habit of priesthood. And there were none of those other knights\nbut read in books, and holp in the worship and did bodily all manner of\nservice. And so their horses went where they would, for they took no\nregard of worldly riches.\nThus upon a night there came a vision to Sir Launcelot, and charged him\nto haste unto Almesbury, for Queen Guenever was dead, and he should\nfetch the corpse and bury her by her husband, the noble King Arthur.\nThen Sir Launcelot rose up ere day, took seven fellows with him, and on\nfoot they went from Glastonbury to Almesbury, the which is little more\nthan thirty miles. They came thither within two days, for they were\nweak and feeble to go, and found that Queen Guenever had died but half\nan hour before. The ladies said she had told them all, ere she passed,\nthat Sir Launcelot had been a priest near a twelvemonth, and that he\ncame thither as fast as he might, to take her corpse to Glastonbury for\nburial.\nSo Sir Launcelot and his seven fellows went back on foot beside the\ncorpse of Queen Guenever from Almesbury unto Glastonbury, and they\nburied her with solemn devotion in the chapel at the hermitage. When\nshe was put in the earth Sir Launcelot swooned, for he remembered the\nnoblesse and kindness that was both with the King and with herself, and\nhow by his fault and his pride they were both laid full low. Then Sir\nLauncelot sickened more and more, and within six weeks afterwards Sir\nBors and his fellows found him dead in his bed. The Bishop did his\nmass of requiem, and he and all the nine knights went with the corpse\ntill they came to Joyous Gard, his own castle, and there they buried\nhim in the choir of the chapel, as he had wished, with great devotion.\nThereafter the knights went all with the Bishop of Canterbury back to\nhis hermitage.\nThen Sir Constantine of Cornwall was chosen King of England, a full\nnoble knight that honourably ruled this realm. And this King\nConstantine sent for the Bishop of Canterbury, for he heard say where\nhe was, and so was he restored unto his bishopric, and left that\nhermitage. Sir Bedivere was there ever still hermit to his life's end,\nbut the French book maketh mention that Sir Bors and three of the\nknights that were with him at the hermitage went into the Holy Land,\nand there did many battles upon the miscreant Turks, and there they\ndied upon a Good Friday, for God's sake.\nHere is the end of the book of King Arthur and his noble knights of the\nRound Table, that when they were whole together were ever an hundred\nand forty. And here is the end of the Death of Arthur. I pray you all\ngentlemen and gentlewomen that read this book of Arthur and his knights\nfrom the beginning to the ending, pray for me while I am alive that God\nsend me good deliverance, and when I am dead, I pray you all pray for\nmy soul; for this book was ended the ninth year of the reign of King\nEdward the Fourth by Sir Thomas Maleore, knight, as Jesu help him for\nhis great might, as he is the servant of Jesu both day and night.\n_Thus endeth thys noble and joyous book entytled Le Morte Darthur.\nNotwithstanding, it treateth of the byrth, lyf and actes of the sayd\nKynge Arthur, of his noble knyghtes of the Round Table, theyr\nmervayllous enquestes and adventures, the achyevying of the Holy Grail,\nand in the end the dolourous deth and departyng out of thys world of\nthem al. Whiche book was reduced in to englysshe by Syr Thomas Malory\nknyght as afore is sayd, and by me enprynted and fynyshed in the abbey\nWestminster the last day of July, the yere of our Lord MCCCCLXXXV._\n_Caxton me fieri fecit._", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg - Stories of King Arthur and His Knights\n"}, {"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1451, "culture": " English\n", "content": "E-text prepared by Christine Aldridge and the Project Gutenberg Online\nNote: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this\n file which includes the original illustrations.\nTranscriber's note:\n Text in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_).\n Minor punctuation errors have been corrected.\n A complete list of spelling corrections and notations\n is located at the end of this text.\n\u00c9dition d'\u00c9lite\nHISTORICAL TALES\nThe Romance of Reality\nby\nCHARLES MORRIS\nAuthor of \"Half-Hours with the Best American Authors,\" \"Tales\nfrom the Dramatists,\" etc.\nIn Fifteen Volumes\nVOLUME XIII\nKing Arthur\nJ. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY\nPHILADELPHIA AND LONDON\nCopyright, 1891, by J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY.\nCopyright, 1904, by J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY.\nCopyright, 1908, by J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY.\n[Illustration: FURNESS ABBEY.]\n HOW ARTHUR WON THE THRONE.\n II.--ARTHUR'S WARS AND THE MYSTERY OF HIS BIRTH 28\n I.--HOW BALIN WON AND USED THE ENCHANTED SWORD 55\n II.--HOW ARTHUR TRIUMPHED OVER THE KINGS 65\n III.--HOW BALIN GAVE THE DOLOROUS STROKE 72\n THE TREASON OF MORGAN LE FAY.\n I.--THE ADVENTURE OF THE ENCHANTED SHIP 94\n II.--THE COMBAT OF ARTHUR AND ACCOLAN 102\n IV.--THE COUNTRY OF STRANGE ADVENTURES 120\n I.--HOW TROUBLE CAME TO LIONEL AND HECTOR 137\n III.--HOW LANCELOT AND TURQUINE FOUGHT 153\n THE ADVENTURES OF BEAUMAINS.\n I.--THE KNIGHTING OF KAY'S KITCHEN BOY 179\n II.--THE BLACK, THE GREEN, AND THE RED KNIGHTS 187\n TRISTRAM OF LYONESSE AND THE FAIR ISOLDE.\n HOW TRISTRAM CAME TO CAMELOT.\n V.--THE KNIGHT WITH THE COVERED SHIELD 345\n STATUE OF KING ARTHUR AT INNSBRUCK 24\n KING ARTHUR'S ROUND TABLE, WINCHESTER CATHEDRAL 179\n TRISTRAM THEREUPON DEPARTED TO HIS PAVILION 325\n ADMISSION OF SIR TRISTRAM TO THE KING OF THE\nINTRODUCTORY.\nGeoffrey of Monmouth, the famous chronicler of legendary British\nhistory, tells us,--in reference to the time when the Celtic kings of\nBritain were struggling against the Saxon invaders,--that \"there\nappeared a star of wonderful magnitude and brightness, darting its rays,\nat the end of which was a globe of fire in the form of a dragon, out of\nwhose mouth issued two rays; one of which seemed to stretch itself\nbeyond the extent of Gaul, the other towards the Irish Sea, and ended in\ntwo lesser rays.\" He proceeds to say, that Merlin, the magician, being\ncalled on to explain this portent, declared that the dragon represented\nUther, the brother of King Ambrose, who was destined himself soon to\nbecome king; that the ray extending towards Gaul indicated a great son,\nwho should conquer the Gallic Kingdoms; and that the ray with two lesser\nrays indicated a daughter, whose son and grandson should successively\nreign over Britain. Uther, in consequence, when he came to the throne,\nhad two gold dragons made, one of which he placed in the cathedral of\nWinchester, which it brightly illuminated; the other he kept, and from\nit gained the name of _Pendragon_. The powerful ray represented his\ngreat son Arthur, destined to become the flower of chivalry, and the\nfavorite hero of medi\u00e6val romance.\nThis is history as Geoffrey of Monmouth understood it, but hardly so in\nthe modern sense, and Arthur remains as mystical a figure as Achilles,\ndespite the efforts of various writers to bring him within the circle of\nactual kings. After the Romans left Britain, two centuries passed of\nwhose history hardly a coherent shred remains. This was the age of\nArthur, one of the last champions of Celtic Britain against the\ninflowing tide of Anglo-Saxon invasion. That there was an actual Arthur\nthere is some, but no very positive, reason to believe. After all the\nevidence has been offered, we still seem to have but a shadowy hero\nbefore us, \"a king of shreds and patches,\" whose history is so pieced\nout with conjecture that it is next to impossible to separate its facts\nfrom its fancies.\nThe Arthur of the legends, of the Welsh and Breton ballads, of the later\n_Chansons de Geste_, of Malory and Tennyson, has quite stepped out of\nthe historic page and become a hero without time or place in any real\nworld, a king of the imagination, the loftiest figure in that great\noutgrowth of chivalric romance which formed the favorite fictitious\nliterature of Europe during three or four of the medi\u00e6val centuries.\nCharlemagne, the leading character in the earlier romances of chivalry,\nwas, in the twelfth century, replaced by Arthur, a milder and more\nChristian-like hero, whose adventures, with those of his Knights of the\nRound Table, delighted the tenants of court and castle in that\nmarvel-loving and uncritical age. That the stories told of him are all\nfiction cannot be declared. Many of them may have been founded on fact.\nBut, like the stones of a prehistoric wall, their facts are so densely\nenveloped by the ivy of fiction that it is impossible to delve them out.\nThe ballads and romances in which the King Arthur of medi\u00e6val story\nfigures as the hero, would scarcely prove pleasant and profitable\nreading to us now, however greatly they delighted our ancestors. They\nare marked by a coarseness and crudity which would be but little to our\ntaste. Nor have we anything of modern growth to replace them. Milton\nentertained a purpose of making King Arthur the hero of an epic poem,\nbut fortunately yielded it for the nobler task of \"Paradise Lost.\"\nSpenser gives this hero a minor place in his \"Fairie Queen.\" Dryden\nprojected a King Arthur epic, but failed to write it. Recently Bulwer\nhas given us a cumbersome \"King Arthur,\" which nobody reads; and\nTennyson has handled the subject brilliantly in his \"Idyls of the King,\"\nsplendid successes as poems, yet too infiltrated with the spirit of\nmodernism to be acceptable as a reproduction of the Arthur of romance.\nFor a true rehabilitation of this hero of the age of chivalry we must go\nto the \"Morte Darthur\" of Sir Thomas Malory, a writer of the fifteenth\ncentury, who lived when men still wore armor, and so near to the actual\nage of chivalry as to be in full sympathy with the spirit of its\nfiction, and its pervading love of adventure and belief in the magical.\nMalory did a work of high value in editing the confused mass of earlier\nfiction, lopping off its excrescences and redundancies, reducing its\ncoarseness of speech, and producing from its many stories and episodes\na coherent and continuous narrative, in which the adventures of the\nRound Table Knights are deftly interwoven with the record of the birth,\nlife, and death of the king, round whom as the central figure all these\nknightly champions revolve. Malory seems to have used as the basis of\nhis work perhaps one, perhaps several, old French prose romances, and\npossibly also material derived from Welsh and English ballads. Such\nmaterial in his day was doubtless abundant. Geoffrey had drawn much of\nhis legendary history from the ancient Welsh ballads. The mass of\nromantic fiction which he called history became highly popular, first in\nBrittany, and then in France, the Trouveres making Arthur, Lancelot,\nTristram, Percival, and others of the knightly circle the heroes of\ninvolved romances, in which a multitude of new incidents were invented.\nThe Minnesingers of Germany took up the same fruitful theme, producing a\n\"Parzivale,\" a \"Tristan and Isolt,\" and other heroic romances. From all\nthis mass of material, Malory wrought his \"Morte Darthur,\" as Homer\nwrought his \"Iliad\" from the preceding warlike ballads, and the unknown\ncompiler of the \"Nibelungenlied\" wrought his poem from similar ancient\nsources.\nMalory was not solely an editor. He was in a large sense a creator. It\nwas coarse and crude material with which he had to deal, but in his\nhands its rude prose gained a degree of poetic fervor. The legends which\nhe preserves he has in many cases transmuted from base into precious\ncoin. There is repulsive matter in the old romances, which he freely\ncuts out. To their somewhat wooden heroes he gives life and character,\nso that in Lancelot, Gawaine, Dinadan, Kay, and others we have to deal\nwith distinct personalities, not with the non-individualized\nhard-hitters of the romances. And to the whole story he gives an epic\ncompleteness which it lacked before. In the early days of Arthur's reign\nMerlin warns him that fate has already woven its net about him and that\nthe sins of himself and his queen will in the end bring his reign to a\nviolent termination, and break up that grand fellowship of the Round\nTable which has made Britain and its king illustrious. This epic\ncharacter of Malory's work is pointed out in the article \"Geoffrey of\nMonmouth\" in the \"Encyclop\u00e6dia Britannica,\" whose writer says that the\nArthurian legends \"were converted into a magnificent prose poem by Sir\nThomas Malory in 1461. Malory's _Morte Darthur_ is as truly _the_ epic\nof the English mind as the _Iliad_ is the epic of the Greek mind.\"\nYet the \"Morte Darthur,\" if epic in plan and treatment, is by no means\nfree from the defects of primitive literature. It was written before the\nage of criticism, and confusion reigns supreme in many of its pages,--a\nconfusion which a very little critical supervision might have removed.\nAs an instance, we find that Galahad, two years after his birth, is made\na knight, being then fifteen years old. In like manner the \"seat\nperilous\" at the Round Table is magically reserved for Galahad, the\nauthor evidently forgetting that he had already given it to Percivale.\nKing Mark's murder of his brother Baldwin is revenged by Baldwin's\ngrandson, thirty or forty years afterward, though there is nothing to\nshow that the characters had grown a year older in the interval. Here a\nknight finds one antagonist quite sufficient for one man; there he does\nnot hesitate to attack fifty at once; here a slight wound disables him;\nthere a dozen deep wounds are fully healed by a night's rest. Many\nsimilar instances might be given, but these will suffice. The\ndiscrepancies here indicated were perhaps due to the employment of\ndiverse legends, without care to bring them into accordance, but they\nlay the work open to adverse criticism.\nThis lack of critical accuracy may have been a necessary accompaniment\nof the credulous frame of mind that could render such a work possible.\nIt needed an artlessness of mental make-up, a full capacity for\nacceptance of the marvellous, a simple-minded faith in chivalry and its\ndoings, which could scarcely exist in common with the critical\ntemperament. In truth, the flavor of an age of credulity and simplicity\nof thought everywhere permeates this quaint old work, than which nothing\nmore artless, simple, and unique exists in literature, and nothing with\na higher value as a presentation of the taste in fiction of our medi\u00e6val\npredecessors.\nYet the \"Morte Darthur\" is not easy or attractive reading, to other than\nspecial students of literature. Aside from its confusion of events and\narrangement, it tells the story of chivalry with a monotonous lack of\ninflection that is apt to grow wearisome, and in a largely obsolete\nstyle and dialect with whose difficulties readers in general may not\ncare to grapple. Its pages present an endless succession of single\ncombats with spear and sword, whose details are repeated with wearisome\niteration. Knights fight furiously for hours together, till they are\ncarved with deep wounds, and the ground crimsoned with gore. Sometimes\nthey are so inconsiderate as to die, sometimes so weak as to seek a\nleech, but as often they mount and ride away in philosophical disregard\nof their wounds, and come up fresh for as fierce a fight the next day.\nAs for a background of scenery and architecture, it scarcely exists.\nDeep interest in man and woman seems to have shut out all scenic\naccessories from the mind of the good old knight. It is always but a\nstep from the castle to the forest, into which the knights-errant\nplunge, and where most of their adventures take place; and the favorite\nresting-and jousting-place is by the side of forest springs--or wells,\nas in the text. We have mention abundant of fair castles, fair valleys,\nfair meadows, and the like, the adjective \"fair\" going far to serve all\nneeds of description. But in his human characters, with their loves and\nhates, jousts and battles, bewitchments and bewilderments, the author\ntakes deep interest, and follows the episodical stories which are woven\ninto the plot with a somewhat too satisfying fulness. In evidence of the\ndramatic character of many of these episodes we need but refer to the\n\"Idyls of the King,\" whose various romantic and tragic narratives are\nall derived from this quaint \"old master\" of fictitious literature.\nWith all its faults of style and method, the \"Morte Darthur\" is a very\nlive book. It never stops to moralize or philosophize, but keeps\nstrictly to its business of tale-telling, bringing up before the reader\na group of real men and women, not a series of lay-figures on a\nbackground of romance, as in his originals.\nKay with his satirical tongue, Dinadan with his love of fun, Tristram\nloving and noble, Lancelot bold and chivalrous, Gawaine treacherous and\nimplacable, Arthur kingly but adventurous, Mark cowardly and\nbase-hearted, Guenever jealous but queenly, Isolde tender and faithful,\nand a host of other clearly individualized knights and ladies move in\nrapid succession through the pages of the romance, giving it, with its\nmanners of a remote age, a vital interest that appeals to modern tastes.\nIn attempting to adapt this old masterpiece to the readers of our own\nday, we have no purpose to seek to paraphrase or improve on Malory. To\nremove the antique flavor would be to destroy the spirit of the work. We\nshall leave it as we find it, other than to reduce its obsolete\nphraseology and crudities of style to modern English, abridge the\nnarrative where it is wearisomely extended, omit repetitions and\nuninteresting incidents, reduce its confusion of arrangement, attempt a\nmore artistic division into books and chapters, and by other arts of\neditorial revision seek to make it easier reading, while preserving as\nfully as possible those unique characteristics which have long made it\ndelightful to lovers of old literature.\nThe task here undertaken is no light one, nor is success in it assured.\nMalory has an individuality of his own which gives a peculiar charm to\nhis work, and to retain this in a modernized version is the purpose with\nwhich we set out and which we hope to accomplish. The world of to-day\nis full of fiction, endless transcripts of modern life served up in a\ngreat variety of palatable forms. Our castle-living forefathers were not\nso abundantly favored. They had no books,--and could not have read them\nif they had,--but the wandering minstrel took with them the place of the\nmodern volume, bearing from castle to court, and court to castle, his\nbudget of romances of magic and chivalry, and delighting the\nhard-hitting knights and barons of that day with stirring ballads and\nwarlike tales to which their souls rose in passionate response.\nIn the \"Morte Darthur\" is preserved to us the pith of the best of those\nold romances, brought into a continuous narrative by one who lived when\nchivalry yet retained some of its vital hold on the minds of men, and\nwho, being a knight himself, could enter with heartfelt sympathy into\nthe deeds of the knights of an earlier age. Certainly many of the\nreaders of modern fiction will find a pleasure in turning aside awhile\nfrom the hot-pressed thought of the nineteenth-century novel to this\nfresh and breezy outcrop from the fiction of an earlier day; with the\ndouble purpose of learning on what food the minds of our ancestors were\nfed, and of gaining a breath of wild perfume from the far-off field of\nthe romance of chivalry. That the story of Arthur and his Knights can\narouse in modern readers the intense interest with which it was received\nby medi\u00e6val auditors is not to be expected. We are too far removed in\ntime and manners from the age of knight-errantry to enter deeply into\nsympathy with its unfamiliar ways. Yet a milder interest may still be\nawakened in what gave our predecessors such enthusiastic delight, and\nsome at least may turn with pleasure from the most philosophic of modern\nnovels to wander awhile through this primitive domain of thought.\nTo such we offer this work, which we have simply sought to make easy\nreading, with little further liberty with Malory's quaint prose than to\nput it into a modern dress, and with the hope that no such complete\ndivorce exists between the world of the present and that of the past as\nto render the exploits of King Arthur and his Round Table Knights dull,\nwearisome, and profitless reading, void of the human interest which they\nonce possessed in such large and satisfying measure.\n KNIGHTS OF THE ROUND TABLE.\n HOW ARTHUR WON THE THRONE.\nCHAPTER I.\nTHE MAGIC SWORD.\nOnce upon a time, in that far-off and famous era of chivalry and\nknight-errantry when wandering knights sought adventures far and wide\nthroughout the land, and no damsel in distress failed to enlist a\nvaliant champion in her cause, there reigned over England's broad realm\na noble monarch, King Arthur by name, the flower of chivalry, and the\nfounder of the world-renowned order of Knights of the Round Table. It is\nthe story of this far-famed monarch, and of the wonderful and valorous\ndeeds of his Knights, that we here propose to tell, as preserved in the\nancient legends of the land, and set forth at length in the chronicles\nof the days of chivalry.\nBefore the days of Arthur the King, there reigned over all England Uther\nPendragon, a monarch of might and renown. He died at length in years\nand honor, and after his death anarchy long prevailed in the land, for\nno son of his appeared to claim the throne, and many of the lords who\nwere high in rank and strong in men sought to win it by force of arms,\nwhile everywhere lawlessness and wrong-doing made life a burden and\nwealth a deceit.\nBut by good fortune there still survived the famous magician Merlin, the\nmaster of all mysteries, who long had been the stay of Uther's throne,\nand in whose hands lay the destiny of the realm. For after years of\nanarchy, and when men had almost lost hope of right and justice, Merlin,\nforeseeing that the time for a change was at hand, went to the\nArchbishop of Canterbury, and bade him summon to London by Christmas day\nall the lords of the realm and the gentlemen of arms, for on that day a\nmiracle would be shown by which would be decided who should be ruler of\nthe kingless realm.\nThe summons was issued, and by Christmas-tide many lords and knights,\nthe flower of England's chivalry, had gathered in London, most of them\nfull of ambition and many of them buoyed up by hope. In the greatest\nchurch of that city prayers went up night and day, all who had been\nguilty of wrong-doing seeking to clear their souls of sin; for all\nbelieved that only through God's grace could any man come to dominion in\nthe realm, and those who aspired to the throne ardently sought to make\ntheir peace with God.\nOn Christmas day, after the hour of matins and the first mass, came the\nmiracle which Merlin had predicted; for there suddenly appeared before\nthe high altar in the church-yard a great four-square block of stone,\nof the texture of marble, upon which stood an anvil of steel a foot in\nheight; and through the anvil and deep into the stone was thrust a\ngleaming sword, upon which, in letters of gold, ran these words, \"Whoso\npulleth this sword out of this stone is of right born king of all\nEngland.\"\nWhether Merlin performed this strange thing by magic, or it was a\nmiracle of God's will, the chronicles say not, but all who saw it deeply\nmarvelled, and word of it was brought to the archbishop in the church.\n\"Let no man stir,\" he enjoined. \"This is God's doing, and must be dealt\nwith gravely and solemnly. I command that all stay within the church and\npray unto God until the high mass be done. Till then let no hand touch\nthe sword.\"\nAnd so the service went on until its end; but after it was done the\naudience hastened to behold the miracle, and some of the higher lords,\nwho were ambitious for the throne, laid eager hold upon the sword and\nsought with all their strength to draw it. Yet all in vain they tugged;\nthe mightiest among them could not stir the deep-thrust blade.\n\"The man is not here,\" said the archbishop, \"who shall draw that sword;\nbut God, in His own good season, will make him known. This, then, is my\ncounsel: let us set ten knights, men of fame and honor, to guard the\nsword, and let every man that has faith in his good fortune seek to draw\nit. He who is the destined monarch of England will in time appear.\"\nNew Year's day came, and no man yet had drawn the sword, though many\nhad adventured. For that day the barons had ordered that a stately\ntournament should be held, in which all knights who desired to break a\nlance for God and their ladies might take part. This was greeted with\nhigh acclaim, and after the services of the day had ended the barons and\nknights together rode to the lists, while multitudes of the citizens of\nLondon crowded thither to witness the knightly sports. Among those who\nrode were Sir Hector, a noble lord, who held domains in England and\nWales, and with him his son Sir Kay, a new-made knight, and his younger\nson Arthur, a youth still too young for knighthood.\nAs they rode together to the lists, Kay discovered that he had forgotten\nhis sword, having left it behind at his father's lodging. He begged\nyoung Arthur to ride back for it.\n\"Trust me to bring it,\" replied Arthur, readily, and turning his horse\nhe rode briskly back to his father's lodging in the city. On reaching\nthe house, however, he found it fast locked, all its inmates having gone\nto the tournament. The young man stood a moment in anger and indecision.\n\"My brother Kay shall not be without a sword,\" he said. \"I remember\nseeing in the church-yard a handsome blade thrust into a stone, and\nseeming to want an owner. I shall ride thither and get that sword. It\nwill serve Kay's turn.\"\nHe accordingly turned his horse and rode back in all haste. On reaching\nthe church-yard he found no knights there, all those who had been placed\non guard having gone to the jousting, exchanging duty for sport.\nDismounting and tying his horse, he entered the tent which had been\nerected over the stone. There stood the magic sword, its jewelled hilt\nand half the shining blade revealed. Heedless of the inscription on the\npolished steel, and ignorant of its lofty promise,--for the miracle had\nbeen kept secret by the knights,--young Arthur seized the weapon\nstrongly by the hilt and gave the magic sword a vigorous pull. Then a\nwondrous thing happened, which it was a pity there were none to see; for\nthe blade came easily out of stone and steel, as though they were\nyielding clay, and lay naked in his hand. Not knowing the might and\nmeaning of what he had done, and thinking of naught but to keep his\nword, the young man mounted his horse and rode to the field, where he\ndelivered the sword to his brother Sir Kay.\n\"I have brought your sword,\" he said.\nThe young knight started with surprise on beholding the blade, and gazed\non it with wonder and trepidation. It was not his, he knew, and he\nrecognized it at sight for the magic blade. But ambition quickly\nbanished the wonder from his heart, and he rode hastily to his father,\nSir Hector, exclaiming,--\n\"Behold! Here is the sword of the stone! I that bear it am the destined\nking of England's realm.\"\nSir Hector looked at him in doubt, and beheld the blade he bore with\ndeep surprise.\n\"When and how did you obtain it?\" he demanded. \"Back to the church! Come\nwith us, Arthur. Here is a mystery that must be explained.\"\nReaching the church, he made Kay swear upon the book how he came by that\nweapon, for greatly he doubted.\n\"I have not said I drew it,\" Kay replied, sullenly. \"In truth, it was\nnot achieved by me. Arthur brought me the sword.\"\n\"Arthur!\" cried the lord. \"Arthur brought it! How got you it, boy?\"\n\"I pulled it from the stone,\" replied the youth. \"Kay sent me home for\nhis sword, but the house was empty and locked; and as I did not wish my\nbrother to be without a weapon, I rode hither and pulled this blade out\nof the stone. Was there aught strange in that? It came out easily\nenough.\"\n\"Were there no knights about it?\"\n\"None, sir.\"\n\"Then the truth is plain. God's will has been revealed. You are the\ndestined king of England.\"\n\"I?\" cried Arthur, in surprise. \"Wherefore I?\"\n\"God has willed it so,\" repeated the baron. \"But I must first learn for\nmyself if you have truly drawn the sword. Can you put it back again?\"\n\"I can try,\" said Arthur, and with an easy thrust he sunk the blade\ndeeply into the stone.\nThen Sir Hector and Kay pulled at the hilt with all their strength, but\nfailed to move the weapon.\n\"Now you shall try,\" they said to Arthur.\nThereupon the youth seized the hilt, and with a light effort the magic\nsword came out naked in his hand.\n\"You are our king!\" cried Sir Hector, kneeling on the earth, and Kay\nbeside him.\n\"My dear father and brother,\" cried Arthur in surprise and distress,\n\"why kneel you to me? Rise, I pray; it pains me deeply to see you thus.\"\n[Illustration: STATUE OF KING ARTHUR AT INNSBRUCK.]\n\"I am not your father nor of your kindred,\" rejoined the baron. \"I must\nnow reveal the secret I long have kept. You were brought to me in\ninfancy, and I and my wife have fostered you as our own. But you are no\nson of mine. Who you truly are I cannot say; that only Merlin the\nmagician knows. But well I feel assured you are of nobler blood than I\ncan boast.\"\nThese words filled Arthur with heartfelt pain. He had long revered the\nworthy knight as his father, and it grieved him deeply to learn that\nthose whom he had so warmly loved were not of kin to him.\n\"Sir,\" said Hector, \"will you be my good and gracious lord when you are\nking?\"\n\"You, my father, and your good lady, my mother,--to whom else in all the\nworld am I so beholden?\" rejoined Arthur, warmly. \"God forbid that I\nshould fail you in whatever you may desire, if by His will and grace I\nshall be made king.\"\n\"This only I ask of you,\" said the baron: \"that you make Kay, my son and\nyour foster-brother, the seneschal of all your lands.\"\n\"By the faith of my body, I promise,\" said Arthur. \"No man but he shall\nhave that office while he and I live.\"\nThese words said, Sir Hector went to the archbishop and told him, much\nto his surprise, of the marvel that had been performed. By the advice of\nthe prelate it was kept secret until Twelfth Day, when the barons came\nagain, and another effort was made to draw the sword.\nAfter all had tried and failed, Arthur was brought forward, and while\nmany sneered at his youth and asked why a boy had been brought thither,\nhe seized the hilt and lightly drew the blade from the stone. Then all\nstood aghast in wonder, marvelling greatly to see a youth perform the\nfeat which the strongest knights in the kingdom had attempted in vain;\nbut many beheld it with bitter anger and hostile doubt.\n\"Who is this boy?\" they cried. \"What royal blood can he claim? Shall we\nand the realm of England be shamed by being governed by a base-born\nchurl? There is fraud or magic in this.\"\nSo high ran the tide of adverse feeling that the archbishop finally\ndecided that another trial should be had at Candlemas, ten knights\nmeanwhile closely guarding the stone. And when Candlemas day arrived\nthere came many more great lords, each eager for the throne; but, as\nbefore, of all there none but Arthur could draw the magic sword.\nAgain was there envy and hostility, and another trial was loudly\ndemanded, the time being fixed for Easter. This ended as before, and at\nthe demand of the angry lords a final trial was arranged for the feast\nof Pentecost. The archbishop now, at Merlin's suggestion, surrounded\nArthur with a bodyguard of tried warriors, some of whom had been Uther\nPendragon's best and worthiest knights; for it was feared that some of\nhis enemies might seek to do him harm. They were bidden to keep watch\nover him day and night till the season of Pentecost, for there were\nlords that would have slain him had they dared.\nAt the feast of Pentecost lords and knights gathered again, but in vain\nthey all essayed to draw the magic sword. Only to the hand of Arthur\nwould it yield, and he pulled it lightly from the stone and steel in the\npresence of all the lords and commons. Then cried the commons in loud\nacclaim,--\n\"Arthur shall be our king! We will have none to reign over us but him!\nLet there be no more delay. God has willed that he shall be England's\nking, and he that holdeth out longer against the will of God that man\nshall we slay.\"\nThen rich and poor alike kneeled before Arthur, hailed him as king, and\ncraved his pardon for their long delay. He forgave them freely, and\ntaking the sword between his hands, laid it upon the altar before the\narchbishop. This done, he was made a knight by the worthiest warrior\nthere, and thus taken into that noble fellowship of chivalry which he\nwas destined by his valor and virtue to so richly adorn.\nShortly afterward Arthur was crowned king, with great pomp and ceremony,\nbefore a noble assemblage of the lords and ladies of the realm, taking\nsolemn oath at the coronation to be true king to lords and commons, and\nto deal justice to all while he should live.\nJustice, indeed, was greatly and urgently demanded, for many wrongs had\nbeen done since the death of King Uther, and numerous complaints were\nlaid before the throne. All these evils Arthur redressed, forcing those\nwho had wrongfully taken the lands of others to return them, and\ndemanding that all should submit to the laws of the realm. In compliance\nwith his promise, Sir Kay was made seneschal of England, while other\nknights were appointed to the remaining high offices of the realm, and\nall the needs of the kingdom duly provided for. Thus the famous reign of\nKing Arthur auspiciously began, with God's and man's blessing upon its\nearly days.\nCHAPTER II.\nARTHUR'S WARS AND THE MYSTERY OF HIS BIRTH.\nAfter Arthur was crowned king he removed into Wales, where he gave\norders that a great feast should be held on the coming day of Pentecost,\nat the city of Carlion. On the day appointed for the feast there\nappeared before Carlion the Kings of Lothian and Orkney, Gore, Garloth,\nCarados, and Scotland, each with a large following of knights. Their\ncoming greatly pleased King Arthur, who believed that they desired to do\nhonor to his reign, and he sent presents of great value to them and to\ntheir knights.\nThese they disdainfully refused, sending back a hostile challenge by the\nmessenger, and saying that they had not come to receive gifts from a\nbeardless boy, of ignoble blood, but to present him gifts with hard\nswords between neck and shoulder. It was a shame, they said, to see such\na boy at the head of so noble a realm, and this wrong should be\nredressed at their hands.\nOn receiving this defiant message, Arthur threw himself, with five\nhundred good men, into a strong tower near Carlion, for he was ill\nprepared for attack. There he was closely besieged by his foes, but the\ncastle was well victualled, and held out stoutly against its assailants.\nDuring the siege Merlin appeared suddenly among the kings, and told them\nprivately who Arthur really was, assuring them that he was of nobler\nblood than themselves, and was destined long to remain king of England,\nand to reduce Scotland, Ireland, and Wales to his sway. Some of the\nhostile monarchs believed the magician's story, but others doubted it,\nKing Lot of Orkney laughing him to scorn, while some among them called\nhim a prating wizard.\nBut it was agreed that they should hold a conference with Arthur, they\npromising if he came out to them to place no hindrance to his safe\nreturn. Merlin then sought the king and advised him to accept the\nconference, telling him that he had nothing to fear. Thereupon Arthur\narmed himself, and taking with him the Archbishop of Canterbury and\nseveral noble knights, went out boldly to meet his foes.\nThe conference was an angry and bitter one, the kings speaking strongly,\nand Arthur answering them with stout words of defiance, in which he told\nthem plainly that if he lived he would make them bow to his throne. In\nthe end they parted in wrath, the kings returning to their camp and\nArthur to the tower.\n\"What do you propose to do?\" said Merlin to the kings. \"If you take a\nwise man's advice you will withdraw, for I tell you that you shall not\nprevail here, were you ten times as many.\"\n\"We are not the men to be advised by a dream-reader,\" answered King Lot.\n\"If you are the wise man you say, you will take yourself away.\" At this\nreply Merlin magically vanished from among them, and immediately\nappeared to King Arthur in the tower, bidding him boldly to sally forth\nand attack his enemies, and trust to fortune and valor for success.\nMeanwhile three hundred of the best knights of the kings had deserted\ntheir ranks and come to join him, much to his comfort, for he had been\ngreatly outnumbered.\n\"Sir,\" said Merlin, \"fight not with the sword that you had by miracle,\ntill you see things go to the worst; then draw it out and strike\nshrewdly for your throne.\"\nThese words said, Arthur sallied from the tower at the head of all his\nknights, and fell fiercely on the besiegers in their camp. All went down\nbefore his bold assault, the hosts of the hostile kings retreating in\ndismay. Great deeds were done that day, Sir Kay and other knights\nslaying all before them, while Arthur laid on nobly, and did such\nmarvellous feats of arms that all who saw him wondered greatly, for\nuntil now he had been an untried youth. While the combat thus went on in\nArthur's favor in front, King Lot and others of the kings made a detour\nand set fiercely upon his force from the rear, causing momentary dismay\nin his ranks. But Arthur wheeled alertly with his knights, and smote\nvigorously to right and left, keeping always in the foremost press, till\nhis horse was slain beneath him, and he hurled to the ground.\nKing Lot took instant advantage of this, and with a mighty blow\nprostrated the unhorsed king. But his knights hastily surrounded him,\ndrove back his crowding foes, and set him on horseback again. And now\nKing Arthur drew the magic sword, and as he waved it in the air there\nflashed from it a gleaming lustre that blinded the eyes of his enemies.\nBack they went before him, many of them falling under his mighty blows,\nwhile his valiant knights followed hotly in the track of the flaming\nsword, and the enemy fled in panic fear.\nThen the people of Carlion, seeing the enemy in retreat, came out with\nclubs and staves, and fell upon the defeated host, killing numbers of\nthe dismounted knights; while the hostile kings, with such of their\nfollowers as remained alive, fled in all haste from the disastrous\nfield, leaving the victory to Arthur and his knights.\nThus ended in victory the first battle of Arthur's famous reign. It was\nbut the prelude to a greater one, the mighty deeds of which the\nchroniclers tell at great length, but of which we shall give but brief\nrecord. It was predicted by Merlin, who told the king that he should\nhave to fight far more strongly for his crown, that the defeated kings\nwould get others to join them, and would ere long proceed against him\nwith a mighty force.\n\"I warn you,\" he said to the king and his council, \"that your enemies\nare very strong, for they have entered into alliance with four other\nkings and a mighty duke, and unless our king obtain powerful allies he\nshall be overcome and slain.\"\n\"What then shall we do?\" asked the barons.\n\"I shall tell you,\" said Merlin. \"There are two brethren beyond the sea,\nboth kings, and marvellously valiant men. One of these is King Ban of\nBenwick, and the other King Bors of Gaul. These monarchs are at war with\na mighty warrior, King Claudas. My counsel then is, that our king ask\nthe aid of these monarchs in his wars, and engage in return to help them\nin their war with their foe.\"\n\"It is well counselled,\" said the king and his barons.\nAccordingly two knights with letters were sent across the seas, and\nafter various adventures reached the camp of Kings Ban and Bors. These\nvaliant monarchs gladly responded to Arthur's request, and, leaving\ntheir castles well guarded, came with ten thousand of their best men to\nthe aid of the youthful king. Then were held great feasts, and a noble\ntournament was given on All-hallowmas day, at which Sir Kay carried off\nthe honors of the lists and received the prize of valor.\nBut sport had soon to give place to war, for the hostile kings, now\neleven in all, with a host of fifty thousand mounted men and ten\nthousand footmen, were marching upon King Arthur's camp, then at the\nCastle of Bedegraine, in Sherwood forest.\nTwo nights before the hosts met in battle, one of the hostile leaders,\nknown as the king with the hundred knights, dreamed a wondrous dream. It\nseemed to him that there came a mighty wind, which blew down all their\ncastles and towns, and that then there came a great flood and carried\nall away. All who heard this dream said that it was a token of great\nbattle, but by its portent none were dismayed, for they felt too secure\nin their strength to heed the warning of a dream.\nSoon the two armies drew together, and encamped at no great distance\nasunder. Then, by advice of Merlin, a midnight attack was made by Arthur\nand his allies upon the host of the eleven kings, as they lay sleeping\nin their tents. But their sentinels were alert, the sound of the coming\nhost reached their wakeful ears, and loud the cry ran through the camp:\n\"To arms! lords and knights, to arms! The enemy is upon us! To arms! to\narms!\"\nOn like a wave of war came the force of Arthur, Ban, and Bors. The tents\nwere overthrown, and all the valor of the eleven kings was needed to\nsave their army from defeat. So fiercely went the assault that by\nday-dawn ten thousand of their men lay dead upon the field, while\nArthur's loss was but small.\nBy Merlin's advice, while it was yet dark the forces of Ban and Bors had\nbeen placed in ambush in the forest. Then Arthur, with his own army of\ntwenty thousand men, set fiercely on the overwhelming force of the foe,\nand deeds of mighty prowess were done, men falling like leaves, and many\nknights of tried valor staining the earth with their blood.\nFiercely went the combat, hand to hand and blade to blade, till the\nfield was strewn with the dead, while none could tell how the battle\nwould end. But when Kings Ban and Bors broke from their ambush, with ten\nthousand fresh men, the tide of battle turned against the foe. Back they\nwent, step by step, many of their men taking to flight, and hundreds\nfalling in death. King Bors did marvellous deeds of arms. King Ban,\nwhose horse was killed, fought on foot like an enraged lion, standing\namong dead men and horses, and felling all who came within reach of his\nsword. As for King Arthur, his armor was so covered with crimson stains\nthat no man knew him, and his horse went fetlock deep in blood.\nWhen night approached, the hostile force was driven across a little\nstream, the eleven warrior kings still valiantly facing the victorious\nfoe.\nThen came Merlin into the press of struggling knights, mounted on a\ngreat black horse, and cried to Arthur,--\n\"Wilt thou never have done? Of threescore thousand men this day thou\nhast left alive but fifteen thousand, and it is time to cry, Halt! I bid\nyou withdraw, for if you continue the battle fortune will turn against\nyou. As for these kings, you will have no trouble with them for three\nyears to come, for more than forty thousand Saracens have landed in\ntheir country, and are burning and despoiling all before them.\"\nThis advice was taken, and the defeated kings were allowed to withdraw\nthe remnant of their forces without further harm, while King Arthur\nrichly rewarded his allies and their knights from the treasure found in\nthe hostile camp.\nThus was King Arthur seated firmly on his throne. But who he was he knew\nnot yet, for the mystery that lay over his birth Merlin had never\nrevealed. After the battle Merlin went to his master Bleise, who dwelt\nin Northumberland, and told him the events of the mighty contest. These\nBleise wrote down, word by word, as he did the after-events of King\nArthur's reign, and the deeds of his valiant knights. And so was made\nthe chronicle of the great achievements of arms, and the adventures of\nerrant knights, from which this history is drawn.\nOf some things that Merlin further did we must here speak. While Arthur\ndwelt in the castle of Bedegraine, Merlin came to him so disguised that\nthe king knew him not. He was all befurred in black sheepskins, with a\ngreat pair of boots and a bow and arrows, and brought wild geese in his\nhand, as though he had been a huntsman.\n\"Sir,\" he said to the king, \"will you give me a gift?\"\n\"Why should I do so, churl?\" asked the king.\n\"You had better give me a gift from what you have in hand than to lose\ngreat riches which are now out of your reach; for here, where the battle\nwas fought, is great treasure hidden in the earth.\"\n\"Who told you that, churl?\"\n\"Merlin told me so.\"\nThen was the king abashed, for he now knew that it was Merlin who spoke,\nand it troubled him that he had not known his best friend.\nAfterward, on a day when Arthur had been hunting in the forest, and\nwhile he sat in deep thought over a strange dream he had dreamed and\nsome sinful deeds he had done, there came to him a child of fourteen\nyears, and asked him why he was so pensive.\n\"I may well be so,\" replied Arthur, \"for I have much to make me think.\"\n\"I know that well,\" said the seeming child, \"also who thou art and all\nthy thoughts. I can tell thee who was thy father and how and when thou\nwert born.\"\n\"That is false,\" rejoined the king. \"How should a boy of your years know\nmy father?\"\n\"He was Uther Pendragon, the king,\" replied the seeming boy, \"and you\nare of royal blood.\"\n\"How can you know that? I will not believe you without better proof,\"\nsaid Arthur.\nAt these words the child departed, but quickly after there came to the\nking an old man of fourscore years.\n\"Why are you so sad?\" asked the old man.\n\"For many things,\" replied Arthur. \"Here but now was a child who told me\nthings which it seems to me he could not know.\"\n\"He told you the truth,\" said the old man, \"and would have told you more\nif you had listened. This I am bidden to tell you, that you have done\nthings which have displeased God, and that your sister shall bear a son\nwho will destroy you and all the knights of your land. That is the\nmeaning of your dream in which griffons and serpents burnt and slew all\nbefore them, and wounded you to the death.\"\n\"Who are you,\" said Arthur, \"that tell me these things?\"\n\"I am Merlin,\" replied the old man. \"And I was the child who came to\nyou.\"\n\"You are a marvellous man,\" replied Arthur. \"But how can you know that I\nshall die in battle?\"\n\"How I know matters not, but this much more I am bidden to tell you:\nyour death will be a noble one; but I shall die a shameful death, and\nshall be put in the earth alive for my follies. Such is the voice of\ndestiny.\"\nWhile they conversed thus, horses were brought to the king, and he and\nMerlin mounted and rode to Carlion. Here Arthur told Sir Hector what he\nhad heard, and asked if it were true.\n\"I believe it to be the truth,\" answered the old baron. \"Merlin has told\nme that the child he brought to my castle was the son of King Uther\nPendragon and of Queen Igraine, his wife.\"\nBut Arthur was not yet convinced, and sent in all haste for Queen\nIgraine, who dwelt in a castle not far away, and came quickly with\nMorgan le Fay, her daughter, a fair lady, and one who had been taught\nall the arts of necromancy.\nThe king welcomed her with rich cheer, and made a feast in her honor,\nwithout saying why he had asked her to his court. But when the feast was\nat its height, Sir Ulfius, the chamberlain, and a knight of worth and\nhonor, rose in the midst, and boldly accused the queen of falsehood and\ntreason.\n\"Beware what you say,\" cried the king. \"Those are strong words, and this\nlady is my guest.\"\n\"I am well advised of what I say,\" replied Ulfius, \"and here is my glove\nto prove it upon any man who shall deny it. I declare that Queen Igraine\nis the cause of your great wars and of deep damage to your throne. Had\nshe told in the life of King Uther of the birth of her son you would\nhave been spared your wars, for most of your barons know not to-day of\nwhat blood you were born. Therefore I declare her false to God, to you,\nand to all your realm, and if any man shall say me nay I stand ready to\nprove it upon his body.\"\n\"I am a woman, and I may not fight,\" said Queen Igraine to this. \"But\nthere are men here will take my quarrel. Merlin will bear me witness\nthat it was King Uther's wish, for reasons of state, that the birth of\nmy child should be concealed, and if you seek a traitor you should\naccuse Uther Pendragon and not me. At its birth the child was wrapped in\ncloth of gold, by order of the king, and taken from me, and from that\nday to this I have not set eyes upon my son.\"\n\"Then,\" said Ulfius, \"Merlin is more to blame than you.\"\n\"I bowed to the will of my husband,\" replied the queen. \"After the death\nof my lord, the Duke of Tintagil, King Uther married me, and I bore him\na son, but I know not what has become of my child.\"\nThen Merlin took the king by the hand and led him to Queen Igraine.\n\"This is your mother,\" he said.\nTherewith, Sir Hector bore witness how the child has been brought by\nMerlin to the postern gate of his castle, wrapped in cloth of gold, and\nhow he had reared him as his own son, knowing not who he was, but full\nsure he was of high birth.\nThese words removed all doubt from Arthur's mind, and with warm\naffection he took his mother in his arms, and kissed her lovingly, while\ntears of joy flowed freely from the eyes of mother and son, for never\nwas gladder meeting than that which there took place.\nFor eight days thereafter feasts and sports were held at the castle, and\ngreat joy fell upon all men to learn that the son of great Uther\nPendragon had come to the throne. And far and wide the story spread\nthrough the land that he who had drawn the magic sword was the rightful\nheir to England's crown.\nCHAPTER III.\nTHE LADY OF THE LAKE.\nOn a day at the end of the feasts given by King Arthur in honor of his\nmother, there came into the court a squire, who bore before him on his\nhorse a knight that had been wounded unto death. He told how a stranger\nknight in the forest had set up a pavilion by a well, and forced all who\npassed to joust with him. This stranger had slain his master, and he\nbegged that some champion would revenge the slain knight.\nThen rose Griflet, a youthful squire who had done good service in the\nwars, and begged to be knighted, that he might undertake this adventure.\n\"Thou art but young for such a task,\" said Arthur.\n\"I beseech you for the honor of it,\" pleaded Griflet. \"I have done you\nknightly service.\"\nThereupon he was knighted and armed, and rode at day-dawn with a high\nheart into the forest. But by night-fall back he came, with a\nspear-thrust through his body, and scarce able to sit his horse for\nweakness. He had met the knight, and barely escaped with his life.\nThis angered the king, and he determined to undertake the adventure\nhimself, and to seek to punish the daring knight who had planted\nhimself, with hostile purpose, so near his court. By his order his best\narmor and horse were set before day at a point outside the city, and at\nday-dawn he met there his squire and rode with him secretly into the\nforest.\nOn the way thither he met three churls, who were chasing Merlin and\nseeking to slay him. The king rode to them and sternly bade them desist,\nand on seeing a knight before them they fled in craven fear.\n\"O Merlin,\" cried Arthur, \"for all your craft you would have been slain,\nhad I not come to your aid.\"\n\"Not so. I but played with these churls,\" said Merlin. \"I could have\nsaved myself easily enough. You are far more near your end than I, for\nunless God be your friend you ride to your death.\"\nAs they conversed they came to the forest fountain, and saw there a rich\npavilion, while under a cloth stood a fair horse, richly saddled and\nbridled, and on a tree was a shield of varied colors and a great spear.\nIn a chair near by sat an armed knight.\n\"How is it, sir knight,\" asked the king, sternly, \"that you abide here\nand force every knight that passes to joust with you? It is an ill\ncustom, and I bid you cease it.\"\n\"He who is grieved with my custom may amend it if he will,\" said the\nknight.\n\"I shall amend it,\" said Arthur.\n\"I shall defend it,\" replied the knight.\nWith these words they mounted, placed their spears in rest, and put\ntheir horses to their speed. Together they came in mid career with such\nviolence and equal fortune that both spears were shivered to splinters,\nbut both knights remained in their saddles. Taking new spears, once more\nthey rode, and once again met in mid course with the same fortune as\nbefore. Then Arthur set hand to his sword.\n\"Nay,\" said the knight. \"You are the best jouster of all the men I ever\nmet. For the love of the high order of knighthood let us break another\nspear.\"\n\"I agree,\" said Arthur.\nTwo more spears were brought them, and again they rode together with all\nthe might and speed of their horses. Arthur's spear once more shivered\ninto splinters from point to handle. But the knight struck him so fairly\nin the centre of his shield that horse and man together fell to the\nearth.\nThen Arthur drew his sword eagerly and cried:\n\"Sir knight, I have lost the honor of horseback, and will fight you on\nfoot.\"\n\"I will meet you on horse,\" replied the knight.\nAngry at this, Arthur advanced towards him with ready shield and sword.\nBut the knight, feeling that he was taking a noble adversary at unfair\nadvantage, dismounted, and advanced to meet Arthur on foot.\nThen began a mighty battle, in which many great sword-strokes were made,\nand much blood was lost by both antagonists. After the affray had long\ncontinued the two warriors by chance struck so evenly together that\ntheir swords met in mid air, and the weapon of the knight smote that of\nArthur into two pieces.\n\"You are in my power,\" cried the knight. \"Yield you as overcome and\nrecreant, or you shall die.\"\n\"As for death,\" said Arthur, \"it will be welcome when it comes, but I\nhad rather die than be so shamed.\"\nThus saying, he leaped upon his foeman, took him by the middle with a\nvigorous grip, and threw him to the earth. Then he tore off his helmet.\nThe knight, however, was much the larger and stronger man, and in his\nturn brought Arthur under him, deprived him of his helmet, and lifted\nhis sword to strike off his head.\nAt this perilous moment Merlin advanced.\n\"Knight, hold thy hand,\" he cried. \"You little know in what peril you\nput this realm, or who the warrior is beneath your sword.\"\n\"Who is he?\" asked the knight.\n\"He is King Arthur.\"\nThen would the knight have slain Arthur for fear of his wrath, and\nraised his sword again to do so, but at that moment Merlin threw him\ninto an enchanted sleep.\n\"What have you done, Merlin?\" cried Arthur. \"God grant you have not\nslain this worthy knight by your craft! I would yield a year of my\ndominion to have him alive again.\"\n\"Do not fear,\" said Merlin. \"He is asleep only, and will awake within\nthree hours. And this I shall tell you, there is not a stronger knight\nin your kingdom than he, and hereafter he will do you good service. His\nname is King Pellinore, and he shall have two noble sons, whose names\nwill be Percivale and Lamorak of Wales. And this brave knight shall, in\nthe time to come, tell you the name of that son of your sister who is\nfated to be the destruction of all this land.\"\nThis being said, the king and the magician departed, leaving the knight\nto his magic slumbers. Soon they reached the cell of a hermit who was a\nnoted leech, and who, with healing salves, in three days cured the\nking's wounds so that he was able to ride again. As they now went\nforward, through forest and over plain, Arthur said,--\n\"I have no sword. I shall be ill put to it should I meet a champion.\"\n\"Heed not that,\" said Merlin. \"That loss will be soon repaired.\"\nAnd so they rode till they came to a lake, a broad and fair sheet of\nwater, that stretched far before their eyes. As the king stood and\nlooked upon it, he saw in its midst, to his deep wonder, an arm clothed\nin white samite lift itself above the water, and in the hand appeared a\nglittering sword, that gleamed brightly in the sun's rays.\n\"Lo! yonder is the sword I spoke of,\" said Merlin.\nThen another wonder met their eyes, for a woman came walking towards\nthem upon the surface of the lake.\n\"What damsel is that?\" asked Arthur. \"And what means all this wondrous\nthing?\"\n\"That is the Lady of the Lake,\" said Merlin. \"Within that lake is a\ngreat rock, and therein is a palace as fair as any on the earth, and\nmost richly adorned, wherein this lady dwells. When she comes to you ask\nher in courtly phrase for the sword, for it is hers to give.\"\nSoon came the damsel to them and saluted Arthur, who courteously\nreturned her salutation.\n\"Fair lady,\" he said, \"what sword is it that yonder arm holds so\nstrangely above the water? I would it were mine, for I have lost my\nweapon.\"\n\"King Arthur,\" replied the damsel, \"the sword you see is mine. But it\nshall be yours if you will promise me a gift when I shall ask it of\nyou.\"\n\"By my faith,\" rejoined Arthur, \"I will give you whatever gift you may\nask, if it be within reason and justice.\"\n\"Then,\" said the damsel, \"go into the barge you see yonder and row\nyourself to the sword, and take it and the scabbard. As for the gift, I\nshall bide my time to ask it.\"\nArthur and Merlin now alighted and entered the boat they saw near by,\nrowing it to where the arm in white samite held up the sword. Reaching\nboldly out, Arthur grasped the weapon by the handle, and at once the arm\nand hand disappeared beneath the water, leaving the wondrous blade in\nhis hand, and the scabbard with it.\nWhen they reached the land again the Lady of the Lake was gone, and so\nthey mounted and rode away from that place of magic. Then Arthur looked\nupon the sword and much he liked it, for the blade seemed to him of rare\npromise.\n\"Which like you the better, the sword or the scabbard?\" asked Merlin.\n\"The sword,\" answered Arthur.\n\"There you lack wisdom,\" said Merlin, \"for the scabbard is worth ten of\nthe sword. While you wear that scabbard you shall never lose blood,\nhowever sorely you be wounded, so take good heed to keep it always with\nyou.\"\nSo they rode unto Carlion, where Arthur's knights were glad enough to\nsee him, for his absence had greatly troubled them. And when they heard\nof his adventures they marvelled that he would risk his person so alone.\nBut all men of worship said that it was merry to be under a chieftain\nwho would take upon himself such adventures as poor knights loved to\nmeet.\nDuring the absence of the king a messenger had come to the court from\nKing Ryons of North Wales, who was also King of Ireland, and of many\nislands, bearing a message of most insulting purport. He said that King\nRyons had discomfited and overcome eleven kings, each of whom had been\nforced to do him homage in the following manner: each had sent him his\nbeard, and the king had trimmed his mantle with these kings' beards. But\nthere lacked one place on the mantle, and he therefore sent for King\nArthur's beard to complete the fringe. If it were not sent him he would\nenter the land and burn and slay, and never leave till he had head and\nbeard together.\n\"Well,\" said Arthur, \"you have said your message, and the most\nvillanous one it is that ever living man sent unto a king; you may see,\nmoreover, that my beard as yet is somewhat too young to serve as a\ntrimming to his mantle. This, then, you may tell your king. Neither I\nnor my lords owe him any homage. But if he shall not before many days do\nme homage on both his bended knees, by the faith of my body he shall\nlose his head, in requital for the shameful and discourteous message\nthat he has sent me. Bear you this answer to your king.\"\nAnd so the messenger departed.\nCHAPTER IV.\nGUENEVER AND THE ROUND TABLE.\nAnd now we have to tell the story of how King Arthur got his fair wife\nGuenever, and how the Round Table was brought to England's realm.\nAfter the defeat of the eleven kings, Arthur had rescued King\nLeodegrance of Cameliard from King Ryons, and put the latter with all\nhis host to flight. And at the court of Leodegrance he saw his charming\ndaughter Guenever, whom he ever after loved.\nSo it fell upon a time that Arthur said to Merlin,--\n\"My barons give me no peace, but day by day insist that I shall take a\nwife. But whether I marry or not, I shall take no step without your\ncounsel and advice.\"\n\"Your barons counsel well,\" said Merlin. \"A man of your bounty and\nnobleness should not be without a wife. Is there any one woman that you\nlove beyond others?\"\n\"Yes, by my faith there is,\" said Arthur. \"I love Guenever, the daughter\nof King Leodegrance, of Cameliard, he who has in his house the Round\nTable, which you have told me he had of my father King Uther. This\ndamsel is the loveliest lady that I know, or could ever hope to find.\"\n\"Of her beauty and fairness no man can question,\" said Merlin. \"If your\nheart were not set, I could find you a damsel of beauty and goodness\nthat would please you as well. But where a man's heart is fixed there\nwill he turn against the counsel of wise and foolish alike.\"\n\"You speak the truth,\" said Arthur.\nCovertly, however, Merlin warned the king that Guenever would bring\ntrouble to his court and his heart, and counselled him to weigh well\nwhat he thought to do. But Arthur's love was warm, and the wise man's\ncounsel, as he had said, fell like water on a stone. Thereupon Merlin\nwent to Cameliard and told King Leodegrance of Arthur's wish.\n\"This is to me,\" said Leodegrance, \"the best tidings that any man living\ncould bring; that a monarch of such prowess and nobleness should ask to\nwed my daughter. Cheerfully will I give her, and I would give lands in\ndowry with her, but of that he has enough already. Yet I can send him a\ngift that will please him far more than lands or treasure, no less a\ngift than the Table Round, which Uther Pendragon gave me, and around\nwhich may be seated a hundred and fifty knights. As for myself, I have\nbut a hundred knights worthy to sit at the table, but these I will send\nto Arthur, who must complete the tale himself.\"\nAnd so, with Guenever, and the Round Table, and the hundred knights,\nMerlin set out for London, where Arthur then was, and whither the noble\ncavalcade rode in royal procession through the land.\nWhen King Arthur heard of their coming his heart was filled with joy,\nand he said to those around him,--\n\"This fair lady is very welcome to me, for I have loved her long. And\nthese knights with the Round Table please me more than if the greatest\nriches had been sent, for I value worth and prowess far above wealth and\nhonors.\"\nHe ordered the marriage and coronation to be prepared for in royal pomp,\nbut with no needless delay.\n\"And, Merlin,\" he said, \"I pray you to go and seek me out fifty knights\nof the highest honor and valor, to complete the tale of my Round Table\nKnights.\"\nMerlin went, and in a short time brought twenty-eight knights whom he\ndeemed worthy of that high honor, but no more could he find.\nThen the Archbishop of Canterbury was brought, and he blessed the seats\nof the Round Table with great worship and ceremony, and placed the\ntwenty-eight knights in their chairs. When this was done Merlin said,--\n[Illustration: Copyright by Frederick Hollyer, London, England.\nKING ARTHUR'S FAIR LOVE.]\n\"Fair sirs, you must all rise and come to King Arthur and do him homage.\nFor henceforth you are his chosen knights, and must so declare. And know\nyou well, that great shall be the future honor and fame of all who\nworthily occupy these seats.\"\nAt this request the knights arose, and did homage to the king. And when\nthey had risen from their seats there appeared in each in letters of\ngold the name of him who had sat therein. But two seats were wanting\nfrom the full tale.\n\"What is the reason of this?\" asked Arthur. \"Why are there two seats\nlacking?\"\n\"Sir,\" answered Merlin, \"no man shall occupy those places but the most\nworshipful of knights. And in the Seat Perilous, which adjoins them, no\nman shall sit but one, and if any one unworthy of this honor shall be so\nhardy as to attempt it, he shall be destroyed. He that shall sit there\nshall have no fellow.\"\nAnon came young Gawaine, the son of King Lot, a squire of handsome mien,\nwho asked of the king a gift.\n\"Ask, and I shall grant it,\" answered the king.\n\"I ask that you make me knight on the day you wed fair Guenever.\"\n\"That shall I do willingly,\" said Arthur, \"and with what worship I may,\nsince you are my nephew, my sister's son.\"\n[Here it is proper to say that Arthur had three sisters, the daughters\nof Queen Igraine and her first husband, the Duke of Tintagil. One of\nthese, Margawse, had married King Lot, and had four sons, all of whom\nbecame valiant knights; Elaine, the second, had married King Neutres of\nGarlot; the third sister, Morgan le Fay, had been put to school, where\nshe became learned in the art of necromancy; of the fourth the\nchronicles fail to speak.]\nHardly had Gawaine spoken when there came riding into the court a poor\nman, who brought with him a fair-faced youth, of eighteen years of age,\nriding upon a lean mare.\n\"Sir, will you grant me a gift?\" the old man asked of the king. \"I was\ntold that you would at the time of your marriage grant any gift that was\nasked for in reason.\"\n\"That is true,\" said the king. \"What would you have?\"\n\"Jesu save you, most gracious king. I ask nothing more than that you\nmake my son a knight.\"\n\"It is a great thing you ask,\" said the king. \"Who are you, and what\nclaim has your son to this high honor?\"\n\"I am but a cowherd, great sir, and am the father of thirteen sons. But\nthis one is unlike all the rest. He will do no labor, and cares for\nnothing but warlike sports, and seeing knights and battles. And day and\nnight he craves for knighthood.\"\n\"What is thy name?\" the king asked the young man.\n\"Sir, my name is Tor.\"\nThe king looked at him closely. He was of handsome face, and was very\nwell made and strong of limb and body.\n\"Where is the sword with which this youth shall be made knight?\" asked\nthe king.\n\"It is here,\" said Tor.\n\"Then draw it from the scabbard, and require me to make you a knight.\"\nAt these words the youth sprang lightly and gladly from his mare, drew\nthe sword, and kneeled before the king, asking him in earnest tones to\nmake him a Knight of the Round Table.\n\"A knight I will make you,\" answered the king. \"But the Round Table is\nnot for untried youth.\"\nThereupon he smote him upon the neck with the sword, and said,--\n\"Be you a good knight, and I pray God you may be so. If you prove of\nprowess and worth I promise you shall in good time have a seat at the\nRound Table.\"\n\"Now, Merlin,\" said Arthur, \"tell me whether this Tor will be a good\nknight or not.\"\n\"He should be so,\" answered Merlin, \"for he comes of kingly blood. The\ncowherd here is no more his father than I, but he is the son of the good\nknight, King Pellinore, whose prowess you have much reason to know.\"\nBy good hap King Pellinore himself came next morning to the court, and\nwas glad to find what honor had been done his son, whom he gladly\nacknowledged as his.\nThen Merlin took Pellinore by the hand and led him to the seat next the\nSeat Perilous.\n\"This is your place at the Round Table,\" he said. \"There is none here so\nworthy as yourself to sit therein.\"\nAt a later hour of that eventful day, in the city of London, and at the\nChurch of Saint Stephen, King Arthur was wedded unto Dame Guenever,\nwith the highest pomp and ceremony, and before as noble an assemblage of\nknights and ladies as the land held.\nAfterwards a high feast was made, and as the knights sat, each in his\nappointed place, at the Round Table, Merlin came to them and bade them\nsit still.\n\"For you shall see a strange and marvellous happening,\" he said.\nHardly had he spoken before there came running a white hart into the\nhall, closely followed by a white brachet,[1] while thirty couple of\nblack hounds in full cry came after, and chased the hart round the\nfeasting boards and then round the Round Table.\n[Footnote 1: A small scenting dog.]\nAs they ran the brachet caught the hart by the haunch, and bit out a\npiece, whereupon the wounded animal made a great leap over a table, and\nthrough a window, with such force as to overthrow a knight. Through the\nwindow the hounds followed, in full cry.\nThe fallen knight quickly rose, took up the brachet in his arms, and\nleft the hall. Seeking his horse, he rode away, carrying the brachet\nwith him. But hardly had he gone when a lady came riding into the hall\non a white palfrey, and crying aloud to King Arthur,--\n\"Sir, suffer not yonder knight to do me this wrong. The brachet that he\nhas taken away is mine.\"\nShe had but ceased speaking when an armed knight rode up on a great\nhorse, and took her away by force, though she bitterly cried and called\nfor aid.\n\"This affair must not be taken lightly,\" said Merlin to the king. \"The\nhonor of your court requires that you shall redress all wrongs, and\nhere, at your marriage feast, have great wrongs been done.\"\n\"What do you advise?\" asked the king. \"I shall be governed by your\ncounsel.\"\n\"Then,\" answered Merlin, \"call Sir Gawaine, for he must bring again the\nwhite hart. Also call Sir Tor, for to him must be assigned the adventure\nof the knight and the brachet. As for the lady and the knight, King\nPellinore must bring them, or slay the knight if he will not come.\"\nThereupon they were all three called, and they armed and rode forth on\nthe errands assigned them. Many and strange were the adventures of these\nvaliant knights, but we have matter of more moment to tell, and so\ncannot relate their valorous deeds. We can but say that Gawaine brought\nback the head of the hart, and little honor with it, for by an evil\naccident he killed a lady, and barely escaped with life from her\nchampions.\nSir Tor had better fortune, for he brought the brachet alive, and won\nmuch honor from his deeds.\nKing Pellinore was also successful in his quest, for he brought back the\nlady in safety, after having fought with and slain her kidnapper. This\nlady's name was Nimue, and of her we shall have many strange things to\ntell hereafter.\nThus ended the three quests which followed the marriage of King Arthur\nand Guenever the fair. Afterwards the king established his knights,\ngiving lands to those who were poor, and enjoining all against outrage,\nand in favor of mercy and gentleness. He also bade them to succor all\nladies in distress, and never to engage in a wrongful quarrel, or to\nstrive for worldly goods.\nUnto this were sworn all the Knights of the Round Table, old and young.\nAnd it was ordained that they should renew their oaths every year at the\nhigh feast of Pentecost, that their obligations might never be\nforgotten, and the honor and renown of the glorious fellowship of the\nRound Table never decline.\nIn this manner began, that illustrious career of the Knights of the\nRound Table, which was destined to shed the greatest glory on Arthur's\nreign, and to fill the whole world with its fame. Valorous as were the\nknights who first composed that noble order of chivalry, it was\nafterwards to include such world-renowned warriors as Lancelot du Lake,\nTristram de Lyonesse, and others of little less prowess, the story of\nwhose noble exploits and thrilling adventures was destined to be told by\nbards and sung by minstrels till all time should ring with the tale, and\nmen of honor in far future days be stirred to emulation of these worthy\nknights of old.\nCHAPTER I.\nHOW BALIN WON AND USED THE ENCHANTED SWORD.\nIt befell upon a time when King Arthur was at London, that tidings came\nto him that King Ryons of North Wales was carrying out his threat. He\nhad crossed the borders with an army, and was burning and harrying his\nlands and slaying his people without mercy. On learning this the king\nsent word to his lords and knights to assemble with all haste at\nCamelot, where a council would be held and measures of defence and\nreprisal taken.\nAnd it so fell out that while this assembly was in session at Camelot, a\ndamsel came into the court who had been sent by the great lady Lile of\nAvelion. When she came before King Arthur she let fall her mantle, which\nwas richly furred, and revealed a noble sword, with which she was girt.\n\"Damsel,\" said the king in wonder, \"why wear you that sword? It beseems\nyou not.\"\n\"Indeed, sir, it is a sore burden to me,\" replied the damsel, \"but I\nmust wear it till a knight of the highest honor and virtue can be found\nto deliver me of my charge. None other than such a one may draw this\nsword from its sheath, for so it is ordained. I have been to King\nRyons's camp, where I was told there were knights of high excellence,\nand he and all his knights tried it, but in vain. I have therefore come\nto your court with my burden, and hope that the knight fit to draw it\nmay here be found.\"\n\"This is surely a great marvel,\" said Arthur. \"I shall try to draw the\nsword myself; not that I claim to be the best knight, but as an example\nto my barons.\"\nThen Arthur took the sword by the sheath and the girdle, and pulled at\nit eagerly, but it failed to yield.\n\"You need not pull so hard,\" said the damsel. \"He who shall draw it will\nneed little strength, but much virtue.\"\n\"Now try ye, all my barons,\" said Arthur. \"But beware ye be not defiled\nwith shame, treachery, or guile.\"\n\"That is well advised,\" said, the damsel, \"for none shall draw it but a\nclean knight without villany, and of gentle birth both by father and\nmother.\"\nThen most of the Knights of the Round Table who were there tried their\nfortunes, but none succeeded in the magic task.\n\"Alas!\" said the damsel, \"I hoped to find in this court the best knights\nupon earth.\"\n\"By my faith,\" said Arthur, \"the world holds no better knights; but it\ngrieves me to find that none here seem to have the grace or power to\ndraw this sword.\"\nIt happened that at that time there was a poor knight of Northumberland\nbirth in Arthur's court, Balin by name. He had been held prisoner there\nmore than half a year, for slaying a knight who was cousin to the king,\nand had just been set free through the good services of some of the\nbarons, who knew that he was not at fault in this deed.\nWhen he learned what was being done his heart bade him try his fortune,\nbut he was so poor and so shabbily dressed that he held back in shame.\nYet when the damsel took her leave of Arthur and his barons, and was\npassing from the court, Balin called to her and said,--\n\"Suffer me, I pray you, to try this venture. Though I am poorly clad,\nand but ill considered, I feel in my heart that in honor and grace I\nstand as high as any of those knights.\"\nThe damsel looked on him with some disdain, and begged him not to put\nher to useless trouble, for he seemed not the man to succeed where so\nmany of noble guise had failed.\n\"Fair damsel,\" he replied, \"you should well know that worthiness and\ngood qualities do not dwell in attire, but that manhood and virtue lie\nhidden within man's person, not in his dress; and therefore many a\nworshipful knight is not known to all people.\"\n\"You speak wisely,\" said the damsel. \"You shall essay the task, and may\nfortune befriend you.\"\nThen Balin took the sword by the girdle and sheath, and drew it out with\nsuch ease that king and barons alike were filled with wonder, and many\nof the knights, in spite and jealousy, cried that Balin had done this\nnot by might, but by witchcraft.\n\"He is a good knight,\" cried the damsel, \"the best and worthiest among\nyou all, even if fortune has dealt with him shabbily. Now, gentle and\ncourteous knight, give me the sword again.\"\n\"No,\" said Balin, \"I have fairly won this sword, and well it pleases me.\nI shall keep it unless it be taken from me by force.\"\n\"You are not wise to keep it,\" said the damsel. \"I warn you that if you\ndo so you will slay with the sword your best friend and the man you most\nlove in the world, and that it will be your destruction.\"\n\"I shall take such adventure as God may ordain me,\" said Balin, \"but by\nthe faith of my body I shall keep the sword.\"\n\"You will quickly repent it,\" said the damsel. \"It is more for your good\nthan for mine that I ask it back. I am sad to find that you will not\nbelieve me, and will bring destruction on yourself. The wilful man makes\nhis own destiny.\" With this the damsel departed, in great sorrow.\nThen Balin sent for his horse and his armor, and made ready to depart,\nthough Arthur begged him to remain.\n\"I knew not your worth,\" he said, \"or you should not have been so\nunkindly treated. I was misinformed concerning you.\"\n\"My heartfelt thanks are yours,\" said Balin. \"But asking your good\ngrace, I must needs depart.\"\n\"Then tarry not long, fair knight; you shall always be welcome to my\ncourt.\"\nSo Balin donned his armor and made ready to depart. But while he still\ntarried there came to the court a lady richly attired, and riding on a\nhandsome horse.\nShe saluted King Arthur, and presented herself as the Lady of the Lake,\nfrom whom he had received the sword, saying that she had now come to\ndemand the gift which he had promised her whenever she should ask for\nit.\n\"A gift I promised you, indeed,\" said Arthur, \"and you do well to ask\nit. But first I would know the name of the sword you gave me.\"\n\"The name of it,\" said the lady, \"is Excalibur, which signifies\ncut-steel.\"\n\"Then well is it named,\" said the king. \"Now ask what gift you will. If\nit is in my power to present you shall have it.\"\n\"What I ask,\" said the Lady of the Lake, \"is the head of the knight who\nhas just won the sword, or of the damsel who brought it; or both their\nheads, if you will. He slew my brother, and she caused my father's\ndeath.\"\n\"Truly,\" said the king, in pain and wonder, \"you ask what I cannot in\nhonor grant. Ask what you will else and you shall not be denied, but\neven a king cannot pay his debts with murder.\"\n\"I shall ask nothing else,\" said the lady. \"Little deemed I that King\nArthur would be recreant to his word.\"\nWhen Balin was told of the demand of the Lady of the Lake, he went\nstraight to her, where she stood before the king, and said, \"Evil you\nare in heart and voice, and evil have ever been. Vile enchantress, you\nwould have my head, and therefore, shall lose yours.\" And with a light\nstroke of his sword he smote off her head before the king, so that it\nfell bleeding at his feet.\n\"What shame is this?\" cried Arthur, in hot wrath. \"Why have you dared\ntreat thus a lady to whom I was beholden, and who came here under my\nsafe-conduct?\"\n\"Your displeasure grieves me,\" said Balin. \"But you know not this lady,\nor you would not blame me for her death, for she was of all women the\nvilest that ever breathed. By enchantment and sorcery she has slain many\ngood knights, and I have sought her during three years, to repay her for\nthe falsehood and treachery by which she caused my mother to be burnt.\"\n\"Whatever your grievance, you should not have sought your revenge in my\npresence. You have done me a foul disgrace, sir knight. Leave my court\nin all haste while you may, and believe me you shall be made to repent\nthis insult to my dignity.\"\nThen Balin took up the head of the lady, and meeting his squire at his\ninn, they rode together from the town.\n\"Now,\" said the knight, \"we must part. Take this head and bear it to my\nfriends in Northumberland, and tell them that my mortal foe is dead.\nAlso tell them that I am out of prison, and by what adventure I got this\nsword.\"\n\"You were greatly to blame to displease King Arthur,\" said the squire.\n\"As for that,\" said Balin, \"I hope to win his grace again by the death\nor capture of King Ryons, whom I go to meet. The woman sought my death,\nand has had her just deserts.\"\n\"Where shall I find you again?\" asked the squire.\n\"In King Arthur's court.\"\nAnd so they parted. Meanwhile King Arthur and all the court grieved\ndeeply over the death of the Lady of the Lake, and felt greatly shamed\nthat they had not hindered the sudden and bloody deed. And the king\nordered that she should have a rich and stately funeral.\nAt this time there was in Arthur's court a knight named Lanceor, the son\nof the king of Ireland, a proud and valiant warrior, who was angry at\nBalin for winning the sword, and sought revenge on him. He asked the\nking to give him leave to ride after Balin and revenge the insult to his\ncrown.\n\"Go and do your best,\" said the king. \"Balin has done me a great\ndespite, and richly deserves punishment.\"\nThereupon the knight of Ireland armed and rode at all speed after Balin,\nwhom he quickly overtook on a mountain side. He called to him in loud\ntones,--\n\"Stop, sir knight. You shall halt whether you will or not, and the\nshield you bear shall prove but light defence to you, for I am come to\npunish you for your crime.\"\nHearing this outcry, Balin turned fiercely, and demanded,--\n\"What do you wish, sir knight? Are you here to joust with me?\"\n\"It is for that I have followed you,\" said the Irish knight.\n\"It might have been better for you to stay at home,\" answered Balin.\n\"Many a knight who thinks to chastise his enemy finds ill fortune to\nfall upon himself. From what court have you been sent?\"\n\"From the court of King Arthur, to revenge the insult you put upon him\nin murdering his guest before his face.\"\n\"Then must I fight with you,\" said Balin. \"Yet I warn you your quarrel\nis a weak one. The lady that is dead richly deserved her fate, or I\nshould have been as loath as any knight living to kill a woman.\"\n\"Make ready,\" said Lanceor. \"Fight we must, and one of us shall remain\ndead upon this field. Our combat is to the utterance.\"\nThen they put their spears in rest, and rode together at the full speed\nof their horses, meeting with a shock in mid career. Lanceor struck\nBalin a blow upon the shield that shivered the spear in his hand. But\nBalin smote him with such force that the spear-point went through shield\nand hauberk, and pierced his body, so that he fell dead to the earth.\nAs the victorious knight stood looking on the corpse of his slain foe,\nthere came from Camelot a damsel, who rode up at full speed upon a fair\npalfrey. When she saw that Lanceor was dead she fell into a passion of\nsorrow, and cried out in tones of deep lamentation,--\n\"Oh, Balin, thou hast slain two bodies and one heart! Yes, two hearts\nin one body, and two souls thou hast murdered with thy fatal spear.\"\nThen she took the sword from her love, and as she took it fell to the\nground in a swoon. When she arose again her sorrow was so great that\nBalin was grieved to the heart, and he sought to take the sword from her\nhands, but she held it so firmly that he could not wrest it from her\nwithout hurting her. Suddenly, before he could move to hinder, she set\nthe pommel of the sword to the ground and threw her body upon the naked\nblade. Pierced through the heart, she fell dead upon the body of her\nslain love.\n\"Alas!\" said Balin, \"that this should have happened. I deeply regret the\ndeath of this knight for the love of this damsel; for such true love as\nthis I never saw before. Yet his death was forced on me, and hers I\ncould not hinder.\"\nFull of sorrow, he turned his horse, and as he looked towards a great\nforest near by he saw a knight riding towards him, whom he knew, by his\narms, to be his brother Balan.\nWhen they were met they took off their helmets and kissed each other,\nand wept for joy and pity.\n\"I little expected to meet you thus,\" said Balan. \"A man in the Castle\nof Four Stones told me that you were freed from prison, and therefore I\ncame hither in hope to find you at the court.\"\nThen Balin told his brother of all that had happened at Camelot, and of\nthe displeasure of the king, and that he had determined to win Arthur's\nfavor at the risk of his life.\n\"King Ryons lies not far away besieging the Castle Terrabil,\" he said.\n\"Thither will we ride, to prove our worth and prowess upon him.\"\n\"I shall be your comrade,\" said Balan. \"We shall help each other as\nbrethren should, and trust to God for fortune.\"\nAs they stood conversing there came a dwarf riding in all haste from\nCamelot. When he saw the dead bodies he tore his hair for sorrow.\n\"Which of you knights has done this foul deed?\" he demanded.\n\"Why do you ask?\" queried Balin.\n\"Because I have the right to know.\"\n\"It was I,\" said Balin. \"He pursued me hither, and forced me to fight.\nOne of us had to die. As for the damsel, she died by her own hand, for\nwhich no man can be sorrier than I. For her sake I shall owe all women\nthe better love and favor.\"\n\"You have done yourself great damage,\" said the dwarf. \"The kindred of\nthis knight will follow you through the world till they have revenged on\nyou his death.\"\n\"That I do not greatly dread,\" said Balin. \"But I am sorry to have\ndispleased King Arthur for the death of this knight; and sorrier still\nfor the fate of this lovelorn damsel.\"\nAs they thus talked there chanced to pass a king of Cornwall, named King\nMark, who halted on seeing the dead bodies, and demanded what had been\ndone. When the tale was told him he was grieved that true love should\nhave met so sad a fate, and said, \"I shall not leave here till I have\nbuilt them a tomb, for they have earned a rich interment.\"\nThen he pitched his tents, and buried them nobly, placing above them a\nrich and fair tomb which he found in a church near by, and upon this\ntomb he wrote their epitaph, as follows:\n\"Here lieth Lanceor, the son of Ireland's king, who was slain in fair\ncombat by the hands of Balin; and his lady Colombe, who for deep love\nand sorrow slew herself with her true love's sword. May lovers\nhenceforth make this their place of pilgrimage.\"\nCHAPTER II.\nHOW ARTHUR TRIUMPHED OVER THE KINGS.\nWhile the tomb was being erected over the dead knight and his love,\nMerlin appeared at the scene.\n\"You have done yourself great harm,\" he said to Balin. \"Why saved you\nnot this lady?\"\n\"By the faith of my body, I could not,\" said Balin, \"she slew herself so\nsuddenly.\"\n\"This must I tell you,\" said Merlin. \"Because of the death of this lady\nyou shall strike a stroke the most dolorous that ever man struck, except\nthe stroke of our Lord; for you shall hurt the truest knight and the man\nof most worship that now lives, and through that stroke three kingdoms\nshall be in great poverty, misery, and wretchedness for twelve years,\nand the knight you will hurt shall not be whole of his wound for many\nyears.\"\n\"If I knew that it were true as you say,\" answered Balin, \"I would do\nsuch a rash deed as to slay myself to make you a liar. But the future\nmust reveal itself. I trust no man's predictions.\"\nThereupon Merlin suddenly vanished away, leaving them in deep marvel at\nhis coming and going. Soon after Balin and his brother took leave of\nKing Mark.\n\"First,\" said the king, \"tell me your name.\"\n\"You see he bears two swords,\" said Balan. \"You may call him the knight\nwith the two swords.\"\nAnd so King Mark rode towards Camelot, and the brothers towards\nTerrabil. As they rode, Merlin again met them, but now in disguise.\n\"Whither do you ride?\" he asked.\n\"Why should we tell you that?\" said the knights.\n\"You need not, for I know already. And I can tell you this. You will\ngain no advantage over King Ryons without my counsel.\"\n\"Ah! you are Merlin,\" said Balin. \"Then we shall be glad of your\ncounsel.\"\n\"Come then with me. But look that you brace yourself to knightly deeds,\nfor you will have great need to do so.\"\n\"As for that,\" said Balin, \"we will do what we can. No knight can do\nmore.\"\nThen Merlin lodged them in a leafy wood beside the highway, where they\nrested till it was near midnight. He then awakened them and bade them\nrise and make ready, for the king they sought was near at hand. He had\nstolen away from his host with threescore of his best knights to visit a\nlady.\n\"How shall we know the king?\" asked Balin.\n\"Hereby is a narrow way where you shall meet him,\" said Merlin.\nThey followed him to the place, where they lay in ambush till the rattle\nof harness showed that the party approached. Then, at Merlin's\nsuggestion, the two knights rode from their covert and assailed the king\nat the head of his followers, wounding him sorely and hurling him to the\nground. They then, in the darkness, attacked the array of knights with\nthe fury of lions, slaying more than forty of them, and putting the\nremnant to flight.\nThis done, they returned to King Ryons where he lay helpless, and with a\nthreat of death forced him to yield himself to their grace.\n\"Valiant knights, slay me not,\" he asked. \"You may profit by my life,\nbut can win nothing by my death.\"\n\"There you speak truly,\" said they, and lifting him carefully they\nplaced him on a horse-litter for conveyance to Camelot.\nThen Merlin vanished and came to King Arthur, whom he told that his\ngreatest enemy was vanquished and taken.\n\"By whom?\" asked the king.\n\"By two of the most valorous knights in your realm. To-morrow you shall\nlearn who they are.\"\nIn good time Balin and his brother came with the wounded king and\ndelivered him to the porters at the gates, charging them to bear him to\nKing Arthur. Then they turned again and departed in the dawning of the\nday.\nWhen King Ryons was brought to the court, Arthur received him\ngraciously.\n\"Sir king,\" he said, \"you are heartily welcome. By what adventure came\nyou hither?\"\n\"By a hard one,\" said the captive, \"as you well may see.\"\n\"Who won you?\" asked Arthur.\n\"The knight with the two swords and his brother,\" said Ryons. \"And\nknights of marvellous prowess they are.\"\n\"I know them not,\" said Arthur, \"but none the less am I deeply beholden\nto them.\"\n\"I shall tell you,\" said Merlin. \"One of these knights was Balin, he\nthat won the sword; the other was Balan, his brother, and as good a\nknight. And it is the most sorrowful thing that tongue can say that\nneither of these brave knights shall live long to win the fame of which\nthey are so worthy.\"\n\"Alas!\" said Arthur, \"if that be so, it is indeed a great pity. I am\nmuch beholden to Balin, for he has highly redeemed the despite he did\nme. I have not deserved such good service at his hands.\"\n\"He shall do more for you, and that soon,\" said Merlin. \"I must now\ndepart, for I have duties elsewhere; but before I go let me warn you to\nprepare your forces for battle at once. To-morrow before noon you will\nbe set upon by a great host, led by Nero, King Ryons's brother.\nTherefore make all haste for your defence.\"\nMerlin's departure was for a purpose which he told not to the king. He\nwell knew that King Lot of Orkney, Arthur's bitterest foe, was marching\nto join Nero with a powerful host, and foresaw that if they fell\ntogether on King Arthur he and all his army would be destroyed. The\nshrewd magician thereupon repaired to King Lot, and held him with idle\ntales of prophecy till Nero and his people were destroyed.\nFor between Nero and Arthur a vigorous battle was fought, in which many\nknights won honor and renown, while King Arthur with his own hand slew\ntwenty knights and maimed forty. But Balin and his brother Balan, who\ncame in during the fight, did such mighty deeds of prowess that all who\nbeheld them said they fought like angels from heaven or devils from\nhell, while Arthur beheld their prowess with wonder and delight, and\nvowed that he owed to them his victory.\nThe combat, which took place at the Castle Terrabil, ended in the\ncomplete defeat of Nero, and the destruction of nearly all his host.\nWord of this disaster was brought to King Lot, where he lay resting with\nhis army.\n\"Alas!\" he said, \"why did I let myself be beguiled? Had I been there no\nhost under heaven could have matched us. That false prattler, with his\nprophecy, has mocked and befooled me. But what shall now be done? Shall\nwe treat with Arthur, or is it wise to fight him with half an army?\"\n\"His men are weary with fighting and we are fresh,\" said a knight. \"Now\nis the time to set upon him.\"\n\"So be it, then. And I hope that every knight will bear himself in the\nfray as well as I, for it is no laggard's task we have now before us.\"\nThen with waving banners and serried spears they assailed Arthur's\nweary host. But the Round Table Knights, with the aid of the two valiant\nbrothers Balin and Balan, roused themselves vigorously to the fray, and\nbore all before them, so that only where King Lot himself fought did his\nhost hold its ground. But where he battled in the van all his men seemed\nborne up by his valor, and not a knight met him but was overthrown or\nforced back by his prowess.\nThen King Pellinore pushed through the press of knights and horses, and\nstruck a mighty stroke at King Lot as he fought at the head of his host.\nThe sword failed in its aim, but struck the neck of the king's horse, so\nthat the wounded animal fell to the ground with its rider. Then\nPellinore struck so furious a stroke that his sword cut King Lot's\nhelmet in twain, and cleft his head to the brows, hurling him lifeless\nto the earth.\nSeeing their king thus slain, all the host of Orkney turned and fled,\nand great was the slaughter in the pursuit. That day there fell in all\ntwelve kings, who fought with Lot and Nero, and all these were buried in\nthe church of Saint Stevens at Camelot.\n[Illustration: Copyright by Frederick Hollyer, London, England.\nKING ARTHUR'S TOMB.]\nOf the tombs that were made for these kings that of King Lot was most\nrichly adorned, and King Arthur had a tomb prepared for himself beside\nit. For this he had made twelve images of brass and copper, which were\ngilt with gold. These represented the twelve kings, and each of them\nheld a taper of wax, that burned night and day. An image of King Arthur\nwas also made, in the form of a statue that stood above the twelve kings\nwith a drawn sword in its hand, while the faces of the twelve images\nwere those of men that had been overcome. All these figures were made by\nMerlin through his subtle craft.\n\"When I am dead,\" he said to the king, \"these tapers shall burn no\nlonger. Then the end will be near, and the adventures of the Sangreal\nshall be achieved.\"\nMuch more he told the king of the strange events that would come to pass\nin the future time; and further he said,--\n\"Look well to the scabbard of Excalibur. You shall lose no blood while\nyou wear this scabbard, even though you be covered with wounds.\"\nThus admonished, Arthur, in loving trust, took the scabbard to Morgan le\nFay, his sister, and gave it into her care to keep for him. Much did he\nperil in doing so, for Morgan was false at heart, and proved recreant to\nher trust, from love for a knight named Accolan, whom she cherished in\nher soul beyond her husband, while she had grown to hate her brother.\nShe made, by enchantment, another scabbard like the one given her in\ntrust, and gave the scabbard of Excalibur to her love. By this deed of\ntreachery she hoped in her false soul to bring King Arthur to his death.\nAnd well-nigh she succeeded therein, as shall be told hereafter.\nCHAPTER III.\nHOW BALIN GAVE THE DOLOROUS STROKE.\nA day or two after King Arthur had placed the magical scabbard in the\nhands of his evil-thinking sister, he grew unwell, and had his tent\npitched in a meadow near Camelot for the benefit of the fresh air and\nthe green verdure. Here he sought in vain to sleep, lying long in uneasy\nwakefulness. As he thus lay he heard a horse approaching, and looking\nthrough the door of his tent, beheld a knight, who lamented deeply as he\ncame.\n\"Halt! fair sir,\" cried Arthur. \"Tell me the cause of your sorrow.\"\n\"You can little aid me,\" said the knight, and he rode onward without\nfurther answer.\nSoon afterward Balin rode up, and on seeing King Arthur sprang from his\nhorse and saluted him.\n\"By my head, you are welcome,\" said the king. \"A knight has just ridden\npast here moaning sadly, but has declined to tell me the cause of his\nsorrow. I desire of your courtesy to bring that knight to me, either by\nforce or good-will, for I wish greatly to know why he so deeply\ngrieves.\"\n\"That is little to what I should be glad to do for you,\" said Balin. He\nrode on apace, and ere long found the knight in a neighboring forest in\ncompany with a damsel.\n\"Sir knight,\" he said, \"you must come with me to King Arthur. He demands\nto see you and learn the cause of your sorrow.\"\n\"That I shall not do,\" said the knight. \"It will injure me greatly, and\ndo no good to you or him.\"\n\"Then you must make ready to fight,\" said Balin. \"I have my order to\nbring you willingly or by force, and I should be loath to have a fight\nwith you.\"\n\"Will you be my warrant if I go with you?\" asked the knight. \"For truly\nyou lead me into danger.\"\n\"Yes. And I shall die rather than let you come to harm, if it is in my\npower to avert it.\"\nThis said, the knight turned and rode back with Balin, accompanied by\nthe damsel. But as they reached King Arthur's pavilion a strange thing\nhappened. A spear was thrust through the body of the knight, inflicting\na mortal wound. Yet the hand and form of him who did this fatal deed\nremained unseen.\n\"Alas!\" said the knight, \"it is as I feared. Under your conduct and\nguard I have been slain by a traitorous knight called Garlon, who\nthrough enchantment rides invisible, and does such deeds as this. My day\nis done. As you are a true knight, I charge you to take my horse, which\nis better than yours, and ride with this damsel on the quest which for\nme is at an end. Follow as she will lead, and revenge my death when best\nyou may.\"\n\"That shall I do,\" said Balin. \"Upon the honor of knighthood I vow to\nfollow your quest, and to revenge you on this false foe, or die as you\nhave done.\"\nThen, leaving the king, Balin rode with the damsel, who bore with her\nthe truncheon of the spear with which the knight had been killed. After\nthey had gone, King Arthur had the knight buried richly and honorably,\nand had written upon the tomb his name, Herleus de Berbeus, and how he\ncame to his death through the treachery of the invisible knight Garlon.\nMeanwhile Balin and the damsel rode onward until they found themselves\nin a forest. Here they met a knight engaged in hunting, who asked Balin\nwhy he showed such grief.\n\"That I do not care to tell,\" said Balin.\n\"You should if I were armed as you are, for your answer is too curt to\nbe courteous.\"\n\"My story is not worth fighting for,\" answered Balin. \"I will tell you\nif you so greatly desire to know.\" He thereupon told him the fatal event\nwhich had just occurred, and that he mourned the untimely death of the\nknight who had been so treacherously slain.\n\"This is a sad story,\" said the knight. \"As I am a true cavalier I will\ngo with you on your quest, and leave you not while life lasts.\"\nThen he went with Balin to his inn, armed himself, and rode forth with\nhim. But as they passed by a hermitage near a church-yard the invisible\nknight Garlon came again, and smote Balin's companion through the body,\nas he had done to Herleus before.\n\"Alas!\" cried the knight. \"I too am slain by this invisible traitor, who\ndoes murder at will under cover of enchantment.\"\n\"It is not the first despite the wretch has done me,\" cried Balin.\n\"Could I see him I would soon repay this outrage. I am bound by the\nhonor of a knight to a double revenge on this unworthy caitiff.\"\nHe and the hermit thereupon buried the slain knight, Perin de\nMountbeliard, under a rich stone in a noble tomb, inscribing thereon the\ncause of his death.\nIn the morning the knight and damsel proceeded on their quest, and in\ngood time found themselves before a castle, which rose high and broad by\nthe roadside. Here Balin alighted, and he and the damsel turned towards\nthe castle, with purpose to enter. But as Balin entered in advance the\nportcullis was suddenly let fall behind him, cutting him off from his\ncompanion. Immediately a number of men assailed the damsel with drawn\nswords.\nWhen Balin saw this treacherous proceeding his soul burned within him.\nWhat to do at first he knew not. Then he ran hastily into the gate\ntower, and leaped, all armed, over the wall into the ditch. Finding\nhimself unhurt, he drew his sword and rushed furiously upon the armed\nmen who surrounded his companion.\n\"Traitors and dogs!\" he cried. \"If you are eager for fight, I will give\nyou your fill.\"\n\"We cannot fight you,\" they answered. \"We do nothing but keep the old\ncustom of the castle.\"\n\"What is that?\" asked Balin. \"It is an ill custom, methinks, that thus\ndisplays itself.\"\n\"Our lady is sick, and has lain so for many years. Nothing will cure her\nbut a dish full of blood from a maid and a king's daughter. It is,\ntherefore, the custom that no damsel shall pass this way without\nleaving a silver dish full of blood.\"\n\"That is for the damsel to say,\" replied Balin. \"If she chooses to bleed\nfor the good of your lady she may, but her life shall not be taken while\nmine lasts.\"\nThe damsel thereupon yielded a dish full of her blood, but it helped not\nthe lady. She and Balin rested in the castle for the night, where they\nhad good cheer. In the morning they proceeded again on their quest.\nThree or four days now passed without adventure. At the end of that time\nthe knight and damsel found lodging in the house of a rich gentleman,\nthe owner of a fair estate. As they sat at supper Balin was moved by the\ngrievous complaints of one who sat beside him, and asked his host the\ncause of this lamentation.\n\"It is this,\" said the host. \"I was lately at a tournament, where I\ntwice overthrew a knight who is brother to King Pellam. He threatened to\nrevenge his defeat on my best friend, and has done so by wounding my\nson. The hurt is a grievous one, and cannot be cured till I have some of\nthat knight's blood; but how to find him I know not, for his name is\nunknown to me, and he always rides invisible.\"\n\"Aha!\" cried Balin, \"has that treacherous dog been at his murderous work\nagain? I know his name well. It is Garlon, and he has lately slain two\nknightly companions of mine in the same base manner. I should rather\nmeet with that invisible wretch than have all the gold in this kingdom.\nLet me see him once and he or I dies.\"\n\"I shall tell you what to do, then,\" said the host. \"King Pellam of\nListeneise has announced a great feast, to be given within twenty days,\nto which no knight can come unless he brings with him his wife or his\nlove. That false knight, your enemy and mine, will be there, and visible\nto human eyes.\"\n\"Then, as I am a true knight,\" cried Balin, \"you shall have of his blood\nenough to twice heal your son's wound, if I die in the getting it.\"\n\"We shall set forward to-morrow,\" said the host, \"and I hope it may be\nas you say.\"\nIn the morning they rode towards Listeneise, which it took them fifteen\ndays to reach, and where the great feast began on the day of their\narrival. Leaving their horses in the stables, they sought to enter the\ncastle, but Balin's companion was refused admittance, as he had no lady\nwith him. Balin, however, having the damsel with him, was at once\nreceived, and taken to a chamber where he laid aside his armor and put\non rich robes which the attendants brought him. They wished him to leave\nhis sword, but to this he objected.\n\"It is the custom of my country,\" he said, \"for a knight always to keep\nhis weapon with him. This custom shall I keep, or depart as I came.\"\nHearing this, they objected no longer to his wearing his sword, and he\nthereupon entered the feasting chambers with his lady companion. Here he\nfound himself among many worshipful knights and fair ladies.\nBalin, after looking carefully round him, asked a guest,--\n\"Is there not a knight in this good company named Garlon?\"\n\"Yes. Yonder knight is he, the one with the dark face. And let me tell\nyou that there is no more marvellous knight living. He has the power of\ngoing invisible, and has destroyed many good knights unseen.\"\n\"I have heard of this,\" said Balin. \"A marvellous gift, indeed. This,\nthen, is Garlon? Thanks for your information.\"\nThen Balin considered anxiously what had best be done. \"If I slay him\nhere my own life will pay the forfeit,\" he said to himself. \"But if I\nlet him escape me now it may be long before I have such an opportunity,\nand in the meanwhile he may do much harm.\"\nAs he stood thus reflecting, with his eyes fixed on Garlon's face, the\nlatter observed his close and stern regard. In haughty anger he came to\nhim and smote him on the face with the back of his hand.\n\"Sir knight,\" he said, \"take that for your impertinent stare. Now eat\nyour meat, and do what you came here for. Hereafter learn to use your\neyes to better purpose.\"\n\"You dog!\" cried Balin, \"this is not your first insult to me. You bid me\ndo what I came for. It is this.\" As he spoke he rose furiously from his\nseat, drew his sword, and with one fierce blow clove Garlon's head to\nthe shoulders.\n\"That is my errand here,\" cried Balin to the guests. \"Now give me the\ntruncheon,\" he said to the damsel, \"with which he slew your knight.\"\nShe gave it to him, and Balin thrust it through Garlon's body,\nexclaiming,--\n\"With that truncheon you killed a good knight, and with this blow I\nrevenge him.\"\nThen he called his late host, who had by this gained entrance to the\nfeast, and said,--\n\"Here lies your foe. Take with you enough of his blood to heal your\nson.\"\nAll this had happened so quickly that none had time to interfere, but\nthe knights now sprang hastily from their seats, and rushed from the\nhall for their weapons, that they might revenge their slain companion.\nAmong them rose King Pellam, crying furiously,--\n\"Why have you killed my brother! Villain and murderer, you shall die for\nthis!\"\n\"Here I stand,\" said Balin. \"If you wish revenge, seek it yourself. I\nstand in my defence.\"\n\"It is well said,\" cried the king. \"Stand back, all. For the love I bore\nmy brother I will take his revenge on myself. Let no one interfere. This\nmurderer is mine.\"\nThen King Pellam snatched up a mighty weapon and struck fiercely at\nBalin, who threw up his own sword in guard. He was in time to save his\nhead, but the treacherous blade went into pieces beneath the stroke,\nleaving him unarmed before the furious king.\nBalin, finding himself thus in danger of death, ran into a neighboring\nchamber in search of a weapon, closely pursued by his enraged adversary.\nFinding none there, he ran on from chamber to chamber, seeking a weapon\nin vain, with King Pellam raging like a maddened lion behind him.\nAt length Balin entered a rich and marvellously adorned chamber, within\nwhich was a bed covered with cloth of gold of the noblest texture, and\nin this bed a person lay. Near by was a table with a top of solid gold\nand four curiously-shaped pillars of silver for its legs, while upon it\nstood a mighty spear, whose handle was strangely wrought, as though it\nhad been made for a mighty king.\nBut of all this marvel and magnificence Balin saw only the spear, which\nhe seized at once with a strong grip, and turned with it to face his\nadversary. King Pellam was close at hand, with sword uplifted for a\nfatal stroke, but as he rushed in blind rage forward Balin pierced his\nbody with the spear, hurling him insensible to the floor.\nLittle dreamed the fated warrior of all that thrust portended. The spear\nhe used was a magical weapon, and prophecy had long declared that the\ndeadliest evil should come from its use. King Pellam had no sooner\nfallen beneath that fatal thrust than all the castle rocked and tottered\nas if a mighty earthquake had passed beneath its walls, and the air was\nfilled with direful sounds. Then down crushed the massive roof, and with\na sound like that of the trumpet-blast of disaster the strong walls rent\nasunder, and rushed downward in a torrent of ruin. One moment that\nstately pile lifted its proud battlements in majesty toward the skies;\nthe next it lay prostrate as though it had been stricken by the hand of\nGod to the earth.\nMen say who saw it that when fell that fatal blow--thereafter to be\nknown in history and legend as the \"dolorous stroke\"--the castle\nshivered like a forest struck by a strong wind, and then fell with a\nmighty crash, burying hundreds beneath its walls. Among these were Balin\nand King Pellam, who lay there for three days without aid or relief, in\ndeep agony and peril of death.\nCHAPTER IV.\nTHE FATE OF BALIN AND BALAN.\nAt the end of the three days came Merlin, who rescued Balin from under\nthe ruined walls.\n\"Your horse is dead,\" he said, \"but I have brought you another, and the\nsword you won in Arthur's hall. My counsel is that you ride out of this\ncountry with all speed; for little you know the evil you have done.\"\n\"The damsel I brought hither must go with me,\" said Balin.\n\"She shall never go farther,\" answered Merlin. \"The damsel is dead, and\nwith her many a good knight and fair lady. That blow of yours was the\nfatalest ever struck, as you may see in the ruin of this castle, and as\nyou will see further when you ride abroad through this distracted\ncountry.\"\n\"What have I done?\" cried Balin. \"How could I know that such dread\ndisaster dwelt within that spear? Who was he that lay within the bed,\nand what does this strange thing portend?\"\n\"You did but what destiny commanded,\" said Merlin. \"It is fate, not you,\nthat is at fault. Let me tell you the meaning of this mighty and\nterrible event, which destiny has thrown into your hands. He who lay in\nthat rich bed was Joseph of Arimathea, who came years ago into this\nland, and bore with him part of the blood of our Lord Jesus Christ. And\nthat spear was the same fatal weapon with which Longius smote our Lord\nto the heart. King Pellam was nigh akin to Joseph of Arimathea, and\ngreat pity is it of his hurt, for that stroke has filled the land with\ntrouble, grief, and mourning. As for King Pellam, he shall lie for many\nyears in sore pain from the wound you dealt him, and shall never be\nwhole again until Galahad, the high prince, shall heal him when he comes\nthis way in the quest of the Sangreal.\"\nThese words said, Balin mounted his horse, and departed in deep grief\nfor the harm he had wrought, saying to Merlin as he left, \"In this world\nwe shall never meet again, for I feel that destiny has marked me for its\nvictim.\" But little knew he the full effects of that fatal blow till he\nrode forth through the land. Then as he went through the once fair\ncities and fertile country he saw the people lying dead on every side,\nand cities and lands in ruin together. Few remained alive of all the\ninhabitants of that populous realm, and as he passed these cried out to\nhim,--\n\"Oh, Balin, terrible is the harm that thou hast done to this innocent\nland! Three countries lie destroyed through the dolorous stroke thou\ngavest unto King Pellam. Woe to thee for this dread deed! Thou hast\nescaped alive, yet doubt not but the vengeance of heaven will fall on\nthee at last!\"\nGreat was the grief and suffering with which the good knight heard these\nwords, and glad at heart was he when at length he left behind him that\nland of woe and ruin, to which his innocent hand had wrought such deadly\nharm.\nBut as he rode onward the feeling came to him that his end was at hand,\nthough this grieved him little, for he felt as one set apart to do\nheaven's work of destiny. And for eight days thereafter he rode over\nmany leagues of strange country without adventure.\nAt length came a day when he saw before him, by the roadside, a cross,\non which in letters of gold was written, \"It is not wise for any knight\nalone to ride towards this castle,\" Then he saw a white-haired old man\napproach, who said,--\n\"Balin le Savage, you pass your bounds to come this way. Turn again, if\nyou would leave this place in safety.\"\nWith these words he vanished, and as he did so there rang on the air a\nbugle-blast like that blown for the death of a beast of the chase.\n\"That blast is blown for me,\" said Balin. \"I am the prize of the\ninvisible powers. I am not yet dead, but they claim me for their own.\"\nAs he stood lost in deep thought there came trooping from the castle,\nwhich he now saw in the distance, a hundred fair ladies and many\nknights, who welcomed him with great show of gladness, and led him with\nthem to the castle, where he found dancing and minstrelsy, and all\nmanner of sport and pleasure. As he stood observing all this the chief\nlady of the castle said to him,--\n\"Knight of the two swords, there is a custom of this castle which all\nwho come here must keep. Hereby is an island which is held by a knight,\nand no man can pass this way unless he joust with him.\"\n\"That is an unhappy custom,\" said Balin. \"Why should every traveller be\nforced to fight?\"\n\"You shall have to do with but one knight,\" said the lady.\n\"That troubles me little,\" said Balin. \"I and my horse are both weary\nfrom our journey, but I am not weary at heart, and, if fight I must, I\nam ready to do it now. If death comes to me, it will not come\nunwelcome.\"\n\"Your shield does not seem to be a good one,\" said a knight. \"Let me\nlend you a larger one.\"\nBalin took the proffered shield and left his own, and rode to the\nisland, where he and his horse were taken over in a great boat. On\nreaching the island shore he met a damsel, who said in sorrowful\naccents,--\n\"O Knight Balin, why have you left your own shield? Alas! you have put\nyourself in great danger. Had you borne your own you would have been\nknown. It is a great pity that a knight of your prowess and hardiness\nshould fight unknown.\"\n\"I repent that I ever came into this country,\" said Balin. \"But now that\nI am here I shall not turn again, and whatever comes to me, be it life\nor death, I shall take it as my lot.\"\nThen he mounted and rode into the island, in whose midst he saw a\ncastle, from which rode a knight wearing red armor, and mounted on a\nhorse which bore trappings of the same color. The warriors looked at\neach other, but neither knew the other, though the two swords that Balin\nwore should have revealed him, had not he borne a shield of strange\ndevice.\nThen, couching their spears, the hostile knights rode together at the\nfull speed of their war-horses, meeting with such mighty force and equal\nfortune that both horses went down, and both knights were hurled to the\nearth, where they lay in a swoon.\nBalin was sorely bruised and weary with travel, and the red knight was\nthe first to gain his feet. But as he advanced with drawn sword, Balin\nsprang up and met him with ready shield, returning his blow with such\nforce that he cut through his shield and cleft his helmet.\nAnd now began the mightiest battle that island had ever beheld. As they\nfought, Balin looked at the castle and saw that its towers were full of\nladies who were watching the deadly contest, and who applauded each blow\nas though this combat was meant for their sport. The valiant knights\nfought till their breath failed, and then took rest and fought again,\nuntil each was sorely wounded and the spot upon which they stood was\ndeeply stained with blood.\nThey fought on until each of them had seven great wounds, the least of\nwhich might have brought death to the mightiest giant of the world. But\nstill the terrible sword-play continued, until their coats of mail were\nso hewn that they stood unarmed, and the blood poured piteously from\ntheir veins. At length the red knight withdrew a little and lay down.\nThen said Balin,--\n\"Tell me what knight you are. For never did I meet a man of your prowess\nbefore.\"\n\"I am Balan,\" was the answer, \"brother to the good knight Balin.\"\n\"Alas!\" cried Balin, \"that ever I should see this day!\" and he fell to\nthe earth in a swoon.\nThen Balan dragged himself up on his hands and feet, and took off his\nbrother's helmet, but the face was so scarred and blood-stained that he\ndid not know it. But when Balin came to himself he cried,--\n\"Oh, Balan, my brother, thou hast slain me, and I thee! Fate has done\ndeadly work this day.\"\n\"Heaven aid me!\" cried Balan. \"I should have known you by your two\nswords, but your shield deceived me.\"\n\"A knight in the castle caused me to leave my own shield,\" said Balin.\n\"If I had life enough left me I would destroy that castle for its evil\ncustoms.\"\n\"And I should aid you,\" said Balan. \"They have held me here because I\nhappened to slay a knight that kept this island. And if you had slain me\nand lived, you would have been held in the same way as their champion.\"\nAs they thus conversed there came to them the lady of the castle, with\nfour knights and six ladies and as many yeomen. The lady wept as she\nheard them moan that they as brothers had slain each other, and she\npromised them that they should be richly entombed on the spot in which\nthe battle had been fought.\n\"Now will you send for a priest,\" asked Balan, \"that we may receive the\nsacrament?\"\n\"It shall be done,\" said the lady.\nAnd so she sent for a priest and gave them the rites of the church.\n\"When we are buried in one tomb,\" said Balin, \"and the inscription is\nplaced over us telling how two brothers here slew each other in\nignorance and valor, there will never good knight nor good man see our\ntomb but they will pray for our souls, and bemoan our fate.\"\nAt this all the ladies wept for pity. Soon after Balan died, but Balin\nlived till midnight. The lady thereupon had them both richly buried, and\nthe tomb inscribed as they had asked, though she knew not Balin's name.\nBut in the morning came the magician Merlin, who wrote Balin's name upon\nthe tomb in letters of gold, as follows: \"Here lieth Balin le Savage,\nthe knight with the two swords, and he that smote the Dolorous Stroke.\"\nMore than this did Merlin, through this magic art. In that castle he\nplaced a bed, and ordained that whoever should lie therein would lose\nhis wits. And he took the sword which Balin had won from the damsel, and\nremoved its pommel, placing upon it another pommel. Then he asked a\nknight beside him to lift that sword, but he tried to do so in vain.\n\"No man shall have power to handle that sword,\" said Merlin, \"but the\nbest knight in the world; and that shall be Sir Launcelot, or his son\nSir Galahad. And Launcelot with this sword shall slay Sir Gawaine, the\nman he loves best in the world.\" All this he wrote in the pommel of the\nsword.\nThen Merlin built to the island a bridge of steel and iron that was but\nhalf a foot broad, and ordained that no man should cross that bridge\nunless he were of virtuous life and free from treachery or evil thoughts\nand deeds.\nThis done, Merlin by magical skill fixed Balin's sword in a block of\nmarble as great as a millstone, and set it afloat upon the stream in\nsuch a way that the sword always stood upright above the water. And for\nyears this stone swam down the stream, for no man could take it from the\nwater or draw the sword, until in time it came to the city of Camelot\n(which is in English Winchester), where the sword was drawn, and many\nstrange things followed thereupon, as shall be hereafter related.\nSoon after this was done, Merlin came to King Arthur and told him the\nstory of the dolorous stroke which Balin had given to King Pellam, and\nof the marvellous battle Balin and Balan had fought, and how they were\nburied in one tomb.\n\"Alas!\" cried Arthur, \"I never heard a sadder tale. And much is the loss\nto knighthood and chivalry, for in the world I know not two such\nknights.\"\nThus endeth the tale of Balin and Balan, two brethren born in\nNorthumberland, good knights.\nCHAPTER V.\nMERLIN'S FOLLY AND FATE.\nAnd now we have again a tale of disaster to tell, namely, how Merlin the\nwise fell into love's dotage, and through folly brought himself to a\nliving death, so that thenceforth he appeared no more upon the earth,\nand his wise counsels were lost to Arthur and his knights.\nFor the old magician, who had so long kept free from love's folly,\nbecame besotted with the damsel named Nimue, she whom King Pellinore had\nbrought to the court on his quest at Arthur's marriage.\nMerlin quite lost his wits and wisdom through his mad passion for this\nyoung lady, to whom he would give no rest, but followed her wherever she\nwent. The shrewd damsel, indeed, encouraged her doting lover, for he was\nready to teach her all the secrets of his art, so that in time she\nlearned from him so much of his craft that she became skilled in\nnecromancy beyond all enchantresses of her time.\nThe wise magician knew well that his end was at hand, and that the woman\nwhom he loved would prove his ruin, but his doting passion was such that\nhe had no strength of mind to resist. He came thereupon unto King\nArthur, and told him what he foresaw, and which it was not in his power\nto prevent; and warned him of many coming events, that he might be\nprepared for them when Merlin was with him no more.\n[Illustration: MERLIN AND NIMUE.]\n\"I have charged you,\" he said, \"to keep in your own hands the sword\nExcalibur and its scabbard, yet well I know that both sword and scabbard\nwill be stolen from you by a woman whom you foolishly trust, and that\nyour lack of wisdom will bring you near to your death. This also I may\nsay, you will miss me deeply. When I am gone you would give all your\nlands to have me again. For Merlin will find no equal in the land.\"\n\"That I well know already,\" said the king. \"But, since you foresee so\nfully what is coming upon you, why not provide for it, and by your craft\novercome it?\"\n\"No,\" said Merlin, \"that may not be. Strong I am, but destiny is\nstronger. There is no magic that can set aside the decrees of fate.\"\nSoon afterwards the damsel departed from the court, but her doting old\nlover followed her wherever she went. And as he sought to practise upon\nher some of his subtle arts, she made him swear, if he would have her\nrespond to his love, never to perform enchantment upon her again.\nThis Merlin swore. Then he and Nimue crossed the sea to the land of\nBenwick, the realm of King Ban, who had helped King Arthur so nobly in\nhis wars, and here he saw young Lancelot, the son of King Ban and his\nwife Elaine, who was in the time to come to win world-wide fame.\nThe queen lamented bitterly to Merlin the mortal war which King Claudas\nmade upon her lord and his lands, and the ruin that she feared.\n\"Be not disturbed thereby,\" said Merlin. \"Your son Lancelot shall\nrevenge you upon King Claudas, so that all Christendom shall ring with\nthe story of his exploits. And this same youth shall become the most\nfamous knight in the world.\"\n\"O Merlin!\" said the queen, \"shall I live to see my son a man of such\nprowess?\"\n\"Yes, my lady and queen, this you shall see, and live many years to\nenjoy his fame.\"\nSoon afterwards Merlin and his lady-love returned to England and came to\nCornwall, the magician showing her many wonders of his art as they\njourneyed. But he pressed her so for her love that she grew sorely weary\nof his importunate suit, and would have given aught less than her life\nto be rid of him, for she feared him as one possessed of the arts of the\nfoul fiend. But say or do what she would, her doting lover clung to her\nall the more devotedly, and wearied her the more with his endless tale\nof love.\nThen it came to pass that as they wandered through Cornwall, and Merlin\nshowed her all the wonders of that land, they found themselves by a\nrocky steep, under which he told her was a wonderful cavern that had\nbeen wrought by enchantment in the solid rock, its mouth being closed by\na mighty mass of stone.\nHere, with all her art of love, and a subtle show of affection, the\nfaithless damsel so bewitched Merlin that for joy he knew not what he\ndid; and at her earnest wish he removed by his craft the stone that\nsealed the cavern's mouth, and went under it that he might show her all\nthe marvels that lay there concealed.\nBut hardly had he entered when, using the magic arts which she had\nlearned from him, the faithless woman caused the great stone to sink\nback with a mighty sound into its place, shutting up the enchanter so\nfirmly in that underground cavern that with all his craft he could never\nescape. For he had taught her his strongest arts of magic, and do what\nhe would he could never move that stone.\nThis faithless act performed, the damsel departed and left Merlin a\nprisoner in the rock. She alone of all the world could set him free, and\nthat she would not do, but kept her secret, and thanked heaven for her\ndeliverance.\nAnd so Merlin, through his doting folly, passed out of the world of men\ninto a living tomb.\nLong days and months passed before his fate was known, and then chance\nbrought to his cavern prison a valiant knight named Bagdemagus, who had\nleft Arthur's court in anger because Sir Tor was given a vacant seat at\nthe Round Table which he claimed as his due.\nAs he wandered through that part of Cornwall in quest of adventures, he\ncame one day past a great rock from which dire lamentations seemed to\nissue. Hearing those woeful sounds, Bagdemagus sought to remove the\nstone that closed the cavern's mouth, but so firmly was it fixed by\nenchantment that a hundred men could not have stirred it from its place.\n\"Strive no longer,\" came a voice from within. \"You labor in vain.\"\n\"Who is it that speaks?\" asked the knight.\n\"I am Merlin, the enchanter; brought here by my doting folly. I loved\nnot wisely but too well; and here you find me, locked in this cliff by\nmy strongest spells, which in love's witlessness I taught to a woman\ntraitor. Go now, worthy sir, and leave me to my fate.\"\n\"Alas! that this should be! Tell me who did this thing, and by what\ndismal chance, that I may tell the king.\"\nThen Merlin related the story of his folly and fate, in the end bidding\nthe knight to leave him, for only death could free him from that prison.\nHearing this, Bagdemagus departed, full of sorrow and wonder, and after\nmany days returned to Arthur's court, where he told the story of the\nmagician's fate. Great was the marvel of all and the grief of the king\non learning this, and much he besought Nimue to set Merlin free. But\nneither threats nor entreaties could move her obdurate heart, and at\nlength she left the court in anger and defiance, vowing that she would\nnever set free her old tormentor.\n THE TREASON OF MORGAN LE FAY.\nCHAPTER I.\nTHE ADVENTURE OF THE ENCHANTED SHIP.\nOn a day not long after the event of Balin's death, it befell that\nArthur and many of his knights went out hunting in a great forest,\nwhere, as fortune willed, King Arthur, Sir Accolan of Gaul, and King\nUriens, who had wedded Morgan le Fay, followed far on the track of a\ngreat hart, which led them astray till they were ten miles distant from\ntheir late companions.\nThey were all well mounted, but so hot was the chase, and so far did it\nlead them, that the horses at length fell dead beneath the ardent\nhuntsmen, leaving them on foot in the remote depths of the forest. But\nthe hart was in no better condition, for the hot chase had worn it out,\nand it dragged wearily on before them, barely able to keep its feet.\n\"What shall we do?\" said Arthur. \"We are far from human habitation, and\nthe night comes fast upon us.\"\n\"Let us go forward on foot,\" said Uriens. \"We shall surely soon meet\nwith some place of shelter.\"\n[Illustration: THE GREAT FOREST.]\nTaking this advice, they advanced in the track of the hart, and soon\ncame up with it where it lay on the bank of a large stream, while a\nhound had it by the throat, and others were coming up in full bay.\nThen Arthur blew the death-note of the chase, and killed the hart. This\ndone, he looked about him, and to his surprise saw approaching on the\nstream a small vessel, with flowing sails of silk. As it came near it\nveered towards the shore, and finally touched land on the sands before\nthem. Arthur walked to the bank and looked over the sides upon the deck,\nbut to his wonder not a living person was to be seen.\n\"This is a marvellous thing,\" said the king. \"Has the vessel been blown\nhere by a wind of magic? Let us enter and see what is in the ship.\"\nThey did so, and found it richly adorned with silken hangings and\nroyally equipped. As they stood on the deck looking about them in\nsurprise, night came upon them, but suddenly the darkness was dispelled\nby a hundred torches, which flared out around the sides of the ship,\nbrilliantly illuminating it. And immediately, from somewhere in the\ndepths of the ship, appeared twelve fair damsels, who fell upon their\nknees before King Arthur, saluting him by name, and welcoming him to the\nbest cheer that their means could provide.\n\"You are welcome, whoever you be,\" said Arthur, \"and have our thanks for\nyour kindly good will.\"\n\"Follow us then, noble sir.\"\nArthur and his companions followed their fair guides into a cabin of the\nship, where they were glad to see a table richly provided with the most\ndelicate viands, and set with the rarest wines. The king marvelled\ngreatly at this, for never in his life had he fared better at supper\nthan at this royal feast.\nThe meal ended, Arthur was led into a richly-appointed chamber, whose\nregal furniture and appointments he had never seen surpassed. His\ncompanions were conducted to chambers no less richly appointed, and\nquickly the three weary hunters fell asleep, for they were exhausted\nwith their day's labor.\nPerilous was the sleep that came upon them, for they little dreamed that\nthey had been lured into an enchanted ship, and that strange adventures\nawaited them all, and deadly danger threatened the king.\nFor when the next day dawned, Uriens woke to find himself at Camelot, in\nhis own chamber, with his wife. Much he marvelled at this, for he had\nfallen asleep the evening before at two days' journey distant. As for\nAccolan, we shall tell later what befell him. Arthur woke to find\nhimself in utter darkness, while the air was full of doleful sounds. On\nfeeling round him he soon discovered that he was in a dismal dungeon,\nand on listening he discovered that the sounds he heard were the woeful\ncomplaints of prisoners.\n\"What place is this, and who are ye that bewail so bitterly?\" asked\nArthur.\n\"We are twenty knights that have long been held prisoners here, some for\nseven years and some for less.\"\n\"For what cause?\" inquired Arthur.\n\"How came you here, that you know not the cause?\"\n\"I came by foul enchantment,\" said Arthur, and told them his adventure,\nat which they wondered greatly. \"Now tell me,\" he asked, \"how came you\nin this direful state?\"\n\"We are victims of an evil-hearted villain,\" they answered. \"The lord of\nthis castle, Sir Damas by name, is a coward and traitor, who keeps his\nyounger brother, Sir Ontzlake, a valiant and worthy knight, out of his\nestate. Hostility has long ruled between them, and Ontzlake proffers to\nfight Damas for his livelihood, or to meet in arms any knight who may\ntake up his quarrel. Damas is too faint-hearted to fight himself, and is\nso hated that no knight will fight for him. This is why we are here.\nFinding no knight of his own land to take up his quarrel, he has lain in\nwait for knights-errant, and taken prisoner every one that entered his\ncountry. All of us preferred imprisonment to fighting for such a\nscoundrel, and here we have long lain half dead with hunger while\neighteen good knights have perished in this prison; yet not a man of us\nwould fight in so base a quarrel.\"\n\"This is a woeful story, indeed,\" said Arthur. \"I despise treason as\nmuch as the best of you, but it seems to me I should rather take the\nchoice of combat than of years in this dungeon. God can be trusted to\naid the just cause. Moreover, I came not here like you, and have but\nyour words for your story. Fight I will, then, rather than perish.\"\nAs they spoke a damsel came to King Arthur, bearing a light.\n\"How fare you?\" she asked.\n\"None too well,\" he replied.\n\"I am bidden to say this to you,\" she remarked. \"If you will fight for\nmy lord, you shall be delivered from this prison. Otherwise you shall\nstay here for life.\"\n\"It is a hard alternative,\" said Arthur; \"I should deem only a madman\nwould hesitate. I should rather fight with the best knight that ever\nwore armor than spend a week in such a vile place. To this, then, I\nagree. If your lord will deliver all these prisoners, I will fight his\nbattle.\"\n\"Those are the terms he offers,\" said the damsel.\n\"Then tell him I am ready. But he must provide me with horse and armor,\nand vow on his knightly honor to keep his word.\"\n\"All this he will freely do.\"\n\"It seems to me, damsel, that I have seen you before. Have you not been\nat the court of King Arthur?\"\n\"Not so,\" said the damsel. \"I have never been there, but am the daughter\nof the lord of this castle, who has always kept me at home.\"\nIn this, as the chronicles tell us, she spoke falsely, for she was one\nof the damsels of Morgan le Fay, and well she knew the king.\nDamas was glad at heart to learn that a knight had at last consented to\nfight for him, and the more so when he saw Arthur and marked his strong\nlimbs and the high spirit in his face. But he and none there save the\ndamsel, knew who his prisoner was.\n\"It were a pity,\" said all who saw him, \"that such a knight should die\nin prison. It is wise in him to fight, whatever betide.\"\nThen agreement was made that Arthur should do battle to the uttermost\nfor the lord of the castle, who, on his part, agreed to set free the\nimprisoned knights. To this covenant both parties took oath, whereupon\nthe twenty knights were brought from their dark prison to the castle\nhall, and given their freedom and the privilege of seeing the battle.\nBut now we must leave the story of Arthur and Damas, and turn to that of\nAccolan of Gaul, the third of the three knights who had gone to sleep in\nthe enchanted ship. This knight was, unknown to Arthur, a lover of\nMorgan le Fay, being he for whose sake she had counterfeited the magic\nscabbard of the sword Excalibur.\nShe loved him, indeed, as ardently as she had grown to hate her royal\nbrother, and through this love had laid a treacherous plot for Arthur's\ndeath.\nWhen Accolan awoke, to his surprise he found himself no longer in the\nship, but lying within half a foot of the side of a deep well, in\nseeming peril of his life, for he might at any moment have fallen into\nthe water. Out of this well there came a pipe of silver, from which a\ncrystal stream ran into a high marble basin. When Accolan beheld all\nthis he crossed himself and said,--\n\"God save my lord King Arthur, and King Uriens, for those damsels in the\nship have betrayed us all. They were not women, but devils, and if I\nescape this misadventure I shall destroy all enchantresses wherever I\nfind them.\"\nAs he spoke, there came to him a dwarf with a great mouth and a flat\nnose, who saluted him, and said that he came from Morgan le Fay.\n\"She sends you her greetings, and bids you be of strong heart, for\nto-morrow it shall be your task to fight a knight of the greatest\nprowess. That you may win in the combat she has sent you Arthur's sword\nExcalibur, with its magical scabbard. She bids you do the battle to the\nuttermost without mercy, and promises to make a queen of the damsel whom\nyou shall send to her with the head of the knight you fight with.\"\n\"I shall do her bidding,\" said Accolan, \"and cannot fail to win, now\nthat I have this sword, for which I fervently thank her. When saw you my\nlady queen?\"\n\"I am just from her.\"\n\"Recommend me to her, and tell her I shall do all I have promised, or\ndie for it. These crafts and enchantments that have happened--are they\nof her making?\"\n\"That you may well believe. She has prepared them to bring on this\nbattle.\"\n\"Who, then, is the knight with whom I shall fight? It seems to me he\nshould be a noble one, for such preparation.\"\n\"That my lady has not told me.\"\nAs they spoke there came to them a knight and a lady, with six squires,\nwho asked Sir Accolan why he lay there, and begged him to rise and come\nwith them to a neighboring manor, where he might rest in better ease. As\nfortune willed it, this manor was the dwelling of Sir Ontzlake, the\nbrother of the traitor Damas.\nAccolan gladly accepted the invitation, but not long had he been in the\nmanor when word came from Damas, saying that he had found a knight who\nwas ready to do battle to the death for their claims, and challenging\nOntzlake to make ready without delay for the field, or to send a knight\nto take his side in the combat.\nThis challenge troubled Ontzlake sorely. Not long before he had been\nsadly hurt in a joust, and was still weak from his wound. Accolan, to\nwhom all this was made known, at once came, with the generous impulse of\na true knight, to his host, and offered to do battle in his stead. In\nhis heart, too, he felt that this might be the combat of which Morgan\nhad warned him, and with the aid of Arthur's sword and scabbard he could\nnot fail to win.\nOntzlake thanked him deeply for his generous offer, and without delay\nsent word to Damas that he would be ready with a champion at the hour\nappointed, and trust to God's grace for the issue of the combat.\nWhen morning came, Arthur was arrayed in a suit of chain mail and\nprovided with a strong horse, which he viewed with knightly ardor.\n\"When shall we to the field?\" he asked Damas.\n\"As soon as you have heard Mass.\"\nMass was scarcely ended when a squire rode up from Ontzlake, to say that\nhis knight was already in the field, and to bid Damas bring his champion\nto the lists, for he was prepared to do battle to the utterance.\nThen Arthur mounted his war-horse and rode to the field, attended by all\nthe knights and commons of the country round; twelve good men of the\ndistrict having been chosen to wait upon the two knights, and see that\nthe battle was conducted fairly and according to the rules of chivalry.\nAs they rode forward a damsel came to Arthur, bringing him a sword like\nunto Excalibur, with a scabbard that seemed in every point the same.\n\"Morgan le Fay sends you your sword, for the great love she bears you,\"\nsaid the messenger, \"and hopes it may do you worthy service in the\nfray.\"\nArthur took it and thanked her, never dreaming that he had been treated\nfalsely. But the sword that was sent him was but a brittle and worthless\nblade, and the scabbard was a base counterfeit of that magic one which\nhe who wore could lose no blood, and which he in brotherly trust had\ngiven to the care of his faithless sister.\nCHAPTER II.\nTHE COMBAT OF ARTHUR AND ACCOLAN.\nThe time for the battle having come, the two knights took their places\nat the opposite sides of the lists, neither knowing with whom he fought,\nand both bent on doing battle to the death. Then putting spurs to their\nsteeds, they dashed across the field with headlong speed, each striking\nthe other in the middle of the shield with his spear, and with such\nforce that horses and men alike were hurled to the earth. In a moment\nboth the combatants started up in warlike fury and drew their swords.\nAt this juncture there came among the spectators the damsel Nimue, she\nwho had put Merlin under the stone. She knew, by the art that Merlin had\ntaught her, how Morgan le Fay had plotted that Arthur should be slain\nthat day, and she came to save his life if it lay in her power, for she\nloved the king as deeply as she hated Merlin.\nEagerly to battle went the two knights, hewing at each other like giants\nwith their swords. But Arthur's blade bit not like Accolan's, which\nwounded him at nearly every stroke, so that soon his blood was flowing\nfrom a dozen wounds, while his opponent remained unhurt.\nArthur was in deep dismay on beholding this. That some treason had been\npractised on him he felt sure, for his sword bit not steel as a good\nblade should, while the sword in Accolan's hand seemed to have the\ntrenchant edge of Excalibur.\n\"Sir knight,\" said Accolan, \"keep well your guard if you care for life.\"\n\"Thus will I,\" answered Arthur, and he dealt him a blow on the helm that\nnearly brought him to the ground.\nAccolan drew back from the staggering stroke, and then with a furious\nonset rushed on Arthur, and dealt him so fierce a blow that the king had\nmuch ado to keep his feet. Thus stroke by stroke went on the battle,\neach knight roused to fury, and each fighting with his utmost skill and\nstrength; but Accolan lost scarcely a drop of blood, while Arthur's\nlife-blood flowed so freely that only his knightly soul and unyielding\ncourage kept him on his feet. He grew so feeble that he felt as if\ndeath was upon him, yet, though he staggered like a drunken man, he\nfaced Accolan with the unquenched spirit of a noble knight.\nAll who saw the field marvelled that Arthur could fight after such a\nloss of blood. So valiant a knight none there had ever beheld, and many\nprayed the two brothers to come into accord and stop this deadly fray.\nBut this Damas would not do, and though Ontzlake trembled for his cause\nhe could not end the combat.\nAt this juncture Arthur withdrew a little to rest, but Accolan called\nhim fiercely to the fight, saying, \"I shall not suffer you to rest;\nneither of us must rest except in death.\"\nWith these words he advanced towards the king, who, with the strength of\nrage, sprang upon him and struck him so mighty a blow on the helm as to\nmake him totter on his feet and nearly fall. But the blow had a serious\nending, for Arthur's sword broke at the cross, the blade falling into\nthe blood-stained grass, and only the hilt and pommel remaining in his\nhand.\nWhen Arthur saw himself thus disarmed he felt sure that his hour of\ndeath had come, yet he let not his dread be seen, but held up his shield\nand lost no ground, facing his mortal foe as boldly as though he was\ntrebly armed.\n\"Sir knight,\" cried Accolan, \"you are overcome, and can no longer\nsustain the battle. You are weaponless, and have lost so much blood that\nI am loath to slay you. Therefore yield to me as recreant, and force me\nnot to kill a helpless foe.\"\n\"That I may not do,\" said Arthur. \"I have promised, by the faith of my\nbody, to fight this battle to the uttermost; and I had rather die in\nhonor than live in shame. If I lack weapon, I lack not spirit; and if\nyou slay me weaponless, the shame be on you.\"\n\"That shame I can bear,\" said Accolan. \"What I have sworn I will\nperform. Since you will not yield, you are a dead man.\"\nThis said, he struck Arthur a furious blow, that almost felled him to\nthe earth, bidding him at the same time to crave for mercy if he would\nlive. Arthur's only reply was to press upon him with his shield, and\ndeal him such a buffet with the pommel of his sword as to send him\nstaggering three paces back.\nAnd now the damsel Nimue, stirred by the prowess of the king, and\nfearful of his death, determined to aid him by all her power of\nenchantment.\nTherefore, when Accolan recovered himself and struck Arthur another\nstroke, she threw a spell upon him and caused the sword to fall from his\nhand to the earth. At once the king lightly leaped to it and seized it,\nthrusting Accolan fiercely back. As soon as his hand had touched the\nhilt he knew it for his sword Excalibur.\n\"You have been too long from me,\" he said, \"and no small damage you have\ndone me. Treason has been at work, and treason shall have its deserts.\"\nThen, seeing the scabbard hanging by Accolan's side, he sprang suddenly\nforward and wrenched it from him, flinging it across the field as far as\nhe could throw it.\n[Illustration: Copyright by Frederick Hollyer, London, England.\nNIMUE.]\n\"Now, sir knight,\" cried Arthur, \"my turn has come. You have nearly\nbrought my life to an end with this sword, and I warrant that you shall\nbe rewarded for the blood I have lost and the pain I have endured this\nday.\"\nTherewith, furious as a wounded lion, Arthur rushed upon his foe, hurled\nhim with all his strength to the earth, tore off his helm, and gave him\nsuch a blow upon the head that blood burst out from his ears, nose, and\nmouth.\n\"Now shall I slay you,\" said Arthur.\n\"Do so if you will,\" said Accolan. \"You are the best knight I ever met,\nand I see now that God is with you. But I promised to do this battle to\nthe uttermost, and never to yield me recreant. Therefore kill me if you\nwill, for my voice shall never ask for mercy.\"\nThen Arthur, looking closer, saw something familiar in his face.\n\"Tell me who you are,\" he cried; \"of what country and court.\"\n\"Sir knight,\" said Accolan, \"I am of the court of King Arthur, and my\nname is Accolan of Gaul.\"\nArthur heard this with deep dismay. For there came into his mind the\nenchantment of the ship, and his heart sank with fear of the treason of\nhis sister.\n\"Tell me this also, sir knight,\" he asked, \"from whom had you this\nsword?\"\n\"Woe worth that sword,\" cried Accolan; \"I have gotten my death by it.\"\n\"That may well be,\" answered Arthur, \"and I fancy have got no more than\nyou deserve.\"\n\"Yesterday,\" said the knight, \"Morgan le Fay sent me that sword by a\ndwarf, that with it I might slay the knight with whom I should fight\nthis day! And she would also pledge me to slay King Arthur, her brother,\nfor she hates him above any man in the world.\"\n\"How know you that to be so?\"\n\"I have loved her long, and know her purposes well, nor shall I longer\nkeep them secret. If by craft she could slay Arthur, she would quickly\ndispose of her husband, King Uriens. Then it was her intent to make me\nking of this realm, and to reign herself as its queen. But all this now\nis at an end, for death is upon me.\"\n\"It would have been great wrong in you to destroy your lord,\" said\nArthur.\n\"That I never could have had the heart to do,\" said Accolan. \"But I pray\nyou to tell me your name, and from what court you come?\"\n\"I am from Camelot, and men know me as King Arthur. I am he against whom\nyou plotted such deep treason.\"\nThen Accolan cried out in anguish,--\n\"My fair, sweet lord, have mercy on me, for I knew you not.\"\n\"You knew me not at this time, Accolan, but you have confessed that you\nplotted treason against me, and laid plans to compass my death. Yet I\nblame you the less that Morgan le Fay has worked on you with her false\narts. I have honored and loved her most of all my kin, and have trusted\nher as I would my wife, and this is how she repays me. By the faith of\nmy body, if I live I shall be deeply revenged upon her for this.\"\nThen he called to the keepers of the field, and said,--\n\"Here, fair sirs, are two knights who have fought nearly to the death\nthrough ignorance of each other. For had either of us known the other\nyou would have seen no battle to-day, and no stroke given or returned.\"\nThen Accolan called out to those who had gathered around,--\n\"Lords and knights, this noble warrior with whom I have fought is the\nman of most valor, manhood, and worship on English soil, for he is no\nless than our liege lord, King Arthur. Had I but dreamed it was he, I\nwould have killed myself rather than have drawn sword against him.\"\nAt this surprising news the people fell upon their knees before the king\nand begged mercy and pardon.\n\"Pardon you shall have,\" said the king, \"for you were ignorant of my\nperson. It is my fault if harm came to me in disguise. And here you may\nall see what adventures and dangers knights-errant are exposed to; for,\nunknown to each other, I and one of my own knights have fought for\nhours, to the great damage of us both. We are both sorely hurt, but\nbefore seeking rest it is my duty to settle the dispute which gave rise\nto this combat. I have been your champion, Sir Damas, and have won your\ncause. But as the victor I claim the right to give judgment, and as I\nknow you for a villain and coward, I adjudge unto your brother all the\nmanor in dispute, with the provision that he hold it of you, and yearly\ngive you in lieu of rent a palfrey to ride upon, which will become such\na base poltroon much better than a war-horse. And I charge you, upon\npain of death, to restore to these twenty knights their armor and\nproperty, and never again to distress a knight-errant. If complaint of\nsuch shall be made to me, by my head, you shall die for it. Sir\nOntzlake, you are said to be a good and valiant knight, and true and\nworthy in your deeds. I desire you to come to my court as soon as\npossible, where you shall be one of my knights, and, if your deeds\nhereafter conform to the good report I have heard of you, you soon shall\nequal your brother in estate.\"\n\"I am at your command,\" said Ontzlake, \"and thank you humbly for your\ngoodness and bounty. As for this battle, I would have fought it myself,\nonly that lately I was deeply wounded in a combat with a wandering\nknight.\"\n\"I would it had been so,\" said Arthur, \"for treason was used against me\nin this combat, and had I fought with you I should not have been so\nbadly hurt. My own sword was stolen and I was given a false and brittle\nblade, which failed me in my greatest need.\"\n\"Great pity it is that a king so noble and a knight so worthy should\nhave been thus foully dealt with.\"\n\"I shall reward the traitor in short time, by the grace of God,\" said\nArthur. \"Now tell me how far I am from Camelot?\"\n\"You are two days' journey distant.\"\n\"Then where can I obtain shelter and rest?\"\n\"There is an abbey but three miles distant where you will find skilled\nleeches and good nursing.\"\nThen King Arthur took his leave of the people, and repaired with Accolan\nto the abbey, where he and the knight were placed under medical care.\nArthur's wounds, though deep and painful, proved not serious, and he\nrapidly recovered, but Accolan had lost so much blood that he died\nwithin four days. Then Arthur had the corpse sent on a horse-bier,\nattended by six knights, to Camelot, saying to the messengers,--\n\"Bear this body to my sister, Morgan le Fay, and say to her that I send\nit as a present. Tell her, moreover, that, through her sisterly\nkindness, I have again my sword Excalibur and the scabbard, and shall\nvisit her ere long.\"\nCHAPTER III.\nHOW MORGAN CHEATED THE KING.\nIn the meantime Morgan le Fay was so sure of the success of her\nmurderous plot, to aid which she had used all her power of necromancy,\nthat she felt it safe to complete her scheme. Seeing her husband, King\nUriens, lying asleep upon his couch, she called a maiden, who was in her\nconfidence, and said,--\n\"Bring me my lord's sword. Now shall my work be ended.\"\n\"Oh, madam,\" cried the damsel, \"would you slay your lord! If you do so\nyou can never escape.\"\n\"Leave that to me, girl. Bring me the sword at once; I am the best judge\nof what it is fit to do.\"\nThe damsel departed with a heavy heart, but finding Sir Uwaine, King\nUriens' son, asleep in another chamber, she waked him and said,--\n\"Rise at once and go to your mother. She has vowed to kill the king,\nyour father, and has sent me in all haste for his sword.\"\n\"To kill him!\" cried Uwaine. \"What treachery is this?--But go, bring the\nsword as she bids. Leave it to me to deal with her.\"\nThe damsel did as she was bidden, and brought the sword to the queen,\ngiving it to her with hands that quaked with fear. Morgan seized it with\na firm grasp, and went boldly to the bedside, where she stood looking\nwith cruel eyes on the sleeping king. As she lifted the sword for the\nmurderous blow, Uwaine, who had silently entered, sprang upon her and\nseized her hand in a crushing grip.\n\"You fiend, what would you do?\" he fiercely cried. \"If you were not my\nmother I would smite off your head with this sword. Men say that Merlin\nwas born of a devil; but well I believe that I have an earthly fiend for\nmother. To kill my father thus!--in his slumber!--what foul device is\nthis?\"\nHis face and voice were so full of righteous fury that the queen quaked\nto her heart with fear, and she clasped her hands in terror upon her\nthroat.\n\"Oh, Uwaine, my dear son, have mercy on me! The foul fiend tempted me to\nthis deed. Let me live to repent of this base intent, which I pray you\nto keep secret. I swear never again to attempt so foul a deed.\"\n\"Can I trust you? Truth and murder do not go together.\"\n\"On my soul, I vow to keep my word!\"\n\"Live, then; but beware you rouse me not again by such a murderous\nthought.\"\nHardly had the false-hearted queen escaped from the indignation of her\nson when tidings came to her which filled her with as deep a dread as\nwhen Uwaine had threatened her with the sword, while the grief it\nbrought her was deeper than her fear. For she learned that Accolan had\nbeen slain in the battle, and that his dead body had been sent her.\nSoon, indeed, came the funeral train, with the message that Arthur had\nsent. Then sorrow and terror together filled her heart till it\nthreatened to break, for she had loved Accolan with all her soul, and\nhis fate wounded her almost to death. But she dared not let this grief\nbe seen upon her countenance, lest the secret of her love should be\ndiscovered; and she was forced to wear a cheerful aspect above a\nbleeding heart. And this she knew, besides, that if she should remain in\nCamelot until Arthur's return, all the gold in the realm would not buy\nher life.\nShe went, therefore, unto Queen Guenever and asked leave to ride into\nthe country.\n\"Why not remain to greet your brother on his return? He sends word that\nhe will soon be here.\"\n\"I should much like to, Guenever, but hasty tidings have come which\nrequire that I should make no delay.\"\n\"If that be so,\" answered Guenever, \"let me not stay you. You may depart\nwhen you will.\"\nOn the next morning, before daybreak, Morgan took horse, and rode all\nthat day and the greater part of the night. On the following day by\nnoon she came to the abbey where Arthur lay. Here she asked the nuns\nwhere he was, and they answered that he was sleeping in his chamber, for\nhe had had but little rest during the three nights past.\n\"Then see that none of you waken him,\" she said. \"I will go visit him in\nhis chamber. I am his sister, Morgan le Fay.\"\nSaying this, she sprang from her horse and entered the abbey, going\nstraight to Arthur's chamber. None dare hinder her, and she suffered no\none to accompany her. Reaching the chamber she found her brother asleep\nin bed, with the sword Excalibur clasped with a vigorous grip in his\nright hand.\nWhen she saw this her heart sank, for it was to steal that sword she\ncame, and she knew her treacherous purpose was at an end. She could not\ntake the sword from his hand without wakening him, and that might be the\nwarrant for her instant death. But the scabbard lay on a chair by the\nbedside. This she took and left the chamber, concealing it under her\nmantle as she went. Mounting her horse again, she rode hastily away with\nher train.\nNot long afterwards Arthur woke, and at once missed his scabbard.\nCalling his attendants in a loud voice, he angrily asked who had been\nthere, and who had dared remove the missing scabbard. They told him that\nit was his sister, Morgan le Fay, and that she had put it under her\nmantle and ridden away with it.\n\"Then have you watched me falsely,\" cried Arthur, in hasty passion.\n\"What could we do?\" they answered. \"We dared not disobey your sister's\ncommand.\"\n\"Fetch me at once the best horse that can be found,\" he ordered, \"and\nbid Sir Ontzlake arm himself in all haste, and come here well mounted to\nride with me.\"\nBy the hour's end these commands had been obeyed, and Arthur and\nOntzlake rode from the abbey in company, well armed and on good horses,\nthough the king was yet feeble from his wounds. After riding some\ndistance they reached a wayside cross, by which stood a cowherd, whom\nthey asked if any lady had lately ridden that way.\n\"Yes, your honors,\" said the cowherd. \"Not long ago a lady passed here\nat easy speed, followed by about forty horsemen. They rode into yonder\nforest.\"\nArthur and Ontzlake at this news put spurs to their horses and followed\nfast on the track of the fugitives. An hour of this swift pursuit\nbrought them in sight of Morgan's party, and with a heart hot with anger\nArthur rode on at the utmost pace of his horse.\nThe fugitives, seeing themselves thus hotly chased, spurred on their own\nsteeds, soon leaving the forest and entering a neighboring plain, beside\nwhich was a lake. When Morgan saw that she was in danger of being\novertaken she rode quickly to the lake-side, her heart filled with\nspiteful hatred of her brother.\n\"Whatsoever may happen to me,\" she cried, \"I vow that Arthur shall\nnever again wear this scabbard. I here consign it to the lake. From the\nwater it came; to the water it returns.\"\nAnd with a strong hand she flung it far out over the deep waters, into\nwhich it sank like a stone, for it was heavy with gold and precious\nstones.\nThen she rode on, followed by her train, till they entered a valley\nwhere there were many great stones, and where they were for the moment\nout of sight of their pursuers. Here Morgan le Fay brought her deepest\npowers of enchantment to work, and in a trice she and her horse were\nchanged into marble, while each of her followers became converted into a\nstatue of stone.\nHardly had this been done when Arthur and Ontzlake entered the valley,\nwhere they beheld with starting eyes the marvellous transformation. For\nin place of the fugitives they saw only horses and riders of solid\nstone, and so changed that the king could not tell his sister from her\nmen, nor one knight from another.\n\"A marvel is here, indeed!\" cried the king. \"The vengeance of God has\nfallen upon our foes, and Morgan le Fay is justly punished for her\ntreachery. It grieves me, indeed, that so heavy a fate has befallen her,\nyet her own deeds have brought on her this mighty punishment.\"\nThen he sought on all sides for the scabbard, but it could nowhere be\nfound. Disappointed in this, he at length turned and rode slowly back\nwith his companion to the abbey whence they had come, their souls filled\nwith wonder and awe.\nYet no sooner were they well gone than the enchantress brought another\ncharm to work, and at once she and all her people were turned again from\nstone into flesh and blood.\n\"Now we can go where we will; and may joy go with King Arthur,\" she\nsaid, with a laugh of triumph to her knights. \"Did you note him?\"\n\"Yes,\" they replied. \"And his countenance was so warlike that had we not\nbeen stone we could scarce have stood before him.\"\n\"I believe you,\" said Morgan. \"He would have made sad havoc among us but\nfor my spells.\"\nThey now rode onward, and soon afterwards met a knight who bore before\nhim on his horse another knight, who was unarmed, blindfolded, and bound\nhand and foot.\n\"What are you about to do with that knight?\" asked Morgan.\n\"To drown him in yonder fountain,\" was the reply. \"He has caused my wife\nto prove false to me, and only his death will avenge my honor.\"\n\"Is this the truth?\" she asked the bound knight.\n\"It is false,\" he replied. \"He is a villain to whom I have done no\nwrong. He took me unawares or I should not have been in such a state.\"\n\"Who are you, and of what country?\"\n\"My name is Manassen. I am of the court of King Arthur, and cousin to\nAccolan of Gaul.\"\n\"Then for the love I bore your cousin you shall be delivered, and this\nvillain be put in your plight.\"\nBy her orders Manassen was loosed from his bonds and the other knight\nbound. Manassen took from him his armor and horse, and riding with him\nto the fountain, flung him remorselessly in, where he met the fate\nwhich he had devised for his late prisoner. Then Manassen rode back to\nMorgan, and asked her if she had any word to send King Arthur.\n\"Tell him,\" she answered, \"that I rescued you not for love of him, but\nof Accolan; and that I fear him not while I can turn myself and my\nknights into stones. Let him know that you saw us riding in good flesh\nand blood, and laughing him to scorn. Tell him, moreover, that I can do\nstranger things than that if the need should come.\"\nBidding Manassen to return with this message, she rode with her train\ninto the country of Gore, where she was well received, and in the might\nof whose castles and towns she felt secure from Arthur's wrath, for much\nshe feared his vengeance should she fall into his hands.\nMeantime the king rode back to Camelot, where he was gladly received by\nhis queen and his knights, to whom he told in full the story of Morgan\nle Fay's treason. They were all angry at this, and many knights declared\nthat she should be burned.\n\"Stone will not burn,\" said Arthur. \"But God has punished her.\"\nBut as they thus conversed, Manassen came to the court and told the king\nof his adventure, delivering to him Morgan's message.\n\"Then the witch has tricked me!\" cried the king, in a tone of vexation.\n\"I might have known it, had I been wise. A kind sister she is, indeed!\nBut my turn will come. Treachery and magic may succeed for a time, but\nhonor must win in the end.\"\nYet despite the king's awakened distrust, he nearly fell a victim to his\nsister's vile enchantments. For on the succeeding morning there came a\ndamsel to the court from Morgan le Fay, bearing with her the richest\nmantle that had ever been seen there. It was set so full of precious\nstones that it might almost have stood alone, and some of them were gems\nworth a king's ransom.\n\"Your sister sends you this mantle,\" said the bearer. \"That she has done\nthings to offend you she knows and is sorry for; and she desires that\nyou shall take this gift from her as a tribute for her evil thoughts.\nWhat else can be done to amend her acts she will do, for she bitterly\nregrets her deeds of wickedness.\"\nThe mantle pleased the king greatly, though he made but brief reply as\nhe accepted it from the hand of the messenger.\nAt that perilous moment there came to him the damsel Nimue, who had so\nrecently helped him in his dire need.\n\"Sir, may I speak with you in private?\" she asked the king.\n\"What have you to say?\" he replied, withdrawing from the throng.\n\"It is this. Beware that you do not put on this mantle, and that no\nknight of yours puts it on, till you know more. The serpent does not so\nsoon lose its venom. There is death in the mantle's folds. At least do\nthis: before you wear it, command that she who brought it shall put it\non.\"\n\"Well said,\" answered the king. \"It shall be done as you advise.\"\nThen he returned to the messenger and said,--\n\"Damsel, I wish to see the mantle you have brought me tried upon\nyourself.\"\n\"A king's garment on me, sir! That would not be seemly.\"\n\"Seemly or not, I command it. By my head, you shall wear it before it\ncome on my back, or that of any man here.\"\nThe damsel drew back, quivering with fear and growing pale as death. But\nthe king commanded those about him to put it on her. Then was seen a\nmarvellous and fearful thing. For no sooner had the enchanted robe been\nclasped around her form than flames burst out from its every thread, and\nin a minute she fell to the floor dead, while her body was burnt to a\ncoal.\nThe king's anger burst out fiercely at this, and his face flamed with\nthe fire of rage. He turned to King Uriens and his son, who stood among\nthe knights.\n\"My sister, your wife, is doing her utmost to destroy me,\" he said, in\nburning wrath. \"Are you and my nephew, your son, joined with her in this\nwork of treachery? Yet I suspect not you, King Uriens, for Accolan\nconfessed to me that she would have slain you as well as me. But as for\nyour son, Uwaine, I hold him suspected, and banish him from my court. I\ncan have no traitors about me.\"\nWhen these words had been spoken, Gawaine rose in anger, and said,--\n\"Whoever banishes my cousin banishes me. When and where Uwaine goes I go\nalso.\"\nAnd with a stride of anger he left the great hall, followed by Uwaine.\nThen the two knights armed themselves, and rode together from Camelot,\nGawaine vowing never to return till his cousin had been fully and freely\npardoned.\nCHAPTER IV.\nThe Country of Strange Adventures.\nThe two knights who had so hastily departed from Arthur's court were\ndestined to see many and strange adventures before they should return.\nAnd as their wanderings and deeds were caused by the treason of Morgan\nle Fay, it is meet that they should here be told.\nThey spent their first night in an abbey not far from Camelot, and on\nthe next morning rode forward until they came to a forest. Passing\nthrough this, they at length found themselves in a valley near a tower.\nHere they beheld two knights fully armed and seated on their war-horses,\nwhile twelve damsels were seen to pass to and fro beneath a tree.\nWhen the wanderers came nearer they saw that on that tree hung a white\nshield, and that as the damsels passed by this they spat upon it and\nbefouled it with mire.\n\"Why do you do this despite to the shield?\" they asked, as they came up.\n\"Sir knights,\" answered the damsels, \"we have good cause for what we do.\nHe who has hung his shield here is a knight of great prowess, but he is\none who hates all ladies, and this is how we repay him for his hatred.\"\n\"I think little of such a knight,\" said Gawaine. \"Yet it may be that he\nhas good cause for his hatred. He must love ladies elsewhere, if not\nhere, if he be so good a knight as you say. For it is said that the\ndespiser of ladies is never worthy in arms. What is the name of this\nknight?\"\n\"His name is Marhaus. He is the son of the king of Ireland.\"\n\"I know him well,\" said Uwaine. \"There is no man of more valor living. I\nsaw him once at a tournament where no knight could stand before him.\"\n\"If this is his shield,\" said Gawaine, \"he will soon be here in person,\nand it may not prove so easy for these knights to face him on horseback\nas for them to stand by and see his shield befouled. It is not our\nquarrel, but we shall stay no longer to see this dishonor.\"\nBefore they had withdrawn far, however, they saw the Irish knight riding\ntowards his shield, and halted to note what would follow. At sight of\nhim the damsels shrieked with terror, and ran so wildly towards the\nturret that some of them fell by the way. But one of the knights\nadvanced his shield and cried loudly,--\n\"Sir Marhaus, defend yourself!\"\nThen he and Marhaus rode fiercely together, the knight breaking his\nspear without effect, while Marhaus smote him in return so hard a blow\nthat he was hurled to the ground with a broken neck. Then the other\nknight rode against Marhaus, but with the same ill success, for both\nhorse and man were smitten so furiously that they fell to the earth\ndead.\nThen the knight of Ireland rode to his shield, and when he saw how\nfoully it had been used he cried,--\n\"This is a foul shame; but I have requited it upon those dastards. For\nthe love of her who gave me this white shield I shall wear it, and hang\nmine where it was.\"\nThereupon he took the white shield, and left in its place the one he had\njust used.\nThen, seeing the two errant knights, he asked them what they did there.\nThey answered that they were from Arthur's court, and had ridden in\nsearch of adventures.\n\"Then you can have one here,\" said Marhaus. \"I shall be glad to joust\nwith you.\"\nHe rode away from them to the proper range, without waiting for a reply.\n\"Let him go,\" said Uwaine. \"I fear he is more than our match.\"\n\"I care not if he is,\" said Gawaine. \"However good a knight he be, he\nshall not challenge us unanswered.\"\n\"Then let me meet him first. I am the weaker, and if he strikes me down\nyou can revenge me.\"\nWith these words Uwaine took his place and rode against the Irish\nknight, but with such ill fortune that he was hurled to the earth with a\nwounded side. When Gawaine saw this he prepared for the joust, and the\ntwo knights rode together with great force. But, as luck would have it,\nGawaine's spear broke, while that of Marhaus held firm. In consequence,\nboth Gawaine and his horse went to the ground.\nIn an instant the knight was on his feet, sword in hand, and advancing\ntowards his adversary. Marhaus drew his sword and moved upon him\nmounted.\n\"Meet me on foot,\" cried Gawaine, \"or I will kill your horse.\"\n\"Gramercy, you teach me courtesy,\" said Marhaus, \"It is not fair for one\nknight to be on foot and the other on horse.\"\nThen he sprang to the ground, set his spear against a tree, and tied his\nhorse. This done, he drew his sword and advanced upon Gawaine.\nThe combat that succeeded was long and hotly contested, beginning at\nnine in the morning and lasting till the day was well advanced. Never\nhad that forest known so obstinate and fierce a fight. And from nine of\nthe clock till the hour of noon Gawaine grew stronger and stronger, till\nhis might was thrice increased and Marhaus had much ado to stand before\nhim. But as the day waned from noon onwards Gawaine grew feeble, while\nthe strength of Marhaus steadily increased, his form seeming to grow\nlarger with every hour. At length it came that Gawaine could scarcely\nstand before him.\n\"Sir knight,\" said Marhaus, \"this I will say, that I never met a better\nman than yourself, and we have had a noble passage at arms. But as we\nhave no quarrel, and I can see you are growing feeble, it were a pity to\ndo you more harm. If you are willing, I agree to end the fight.\"\n\"That should I have said, gentle knight,\" answered Gawaine. \"I am much\nbeholden to your courtesy.\"\nThereupon they took off their helmets and kissed each other, and swore\nto love one another thenceforth as brethren in arms. Marhaus prayed that\nthe two knights would lodge with him that night, and they rode together\ntowards his dwelling.\n\"I marvel,\" said Gawaine, as they rode forward, \"that so good a knight\nas you should love no ladies.\"\n\"I love not such as those minxes of the tower, nor any of their sort,\"\nsaid Marhaus. \"They are a false-hearted and vile-thinking crew. But to\nall honorable women I owe the best of my knightly service.\"\nThey soon reached the dwelling, which was in a little priory, and here\nMarhaus gave them the best cheer at his disposal, the more so when he\nlearned that they were sons of King Arthur's sisters. Here they remained\nseven days, until their wounds had fully healed. On the eighth day they\ntook horse again to continue their journey.\n\"We shall not part so lightly,\" said Marhaus. \"I shall bring you through\nthe forest, and mayhap ride farther with you.\"\nFor seven days more they rode onward without adventure. Then they found\nthemselves on the borders of a still greater forest, in what was known\nas the country and forest of Arroy and the land of strange adventures.\n\"It is well named,\" said Marhaus. \"For it is said that no knight ever\nrode into this country and failed to find adventures many and\nmarvellous.\"\nThey rode onward into the forest before them, and in good time found\nthemselves in a deep and stony valley, traversed by a fair stream of\nwater.\nFollowing this upward, they soon came to a fair fountain, the head of\nthe stream, beside which three damsels were seated.\nOf these, the eldest was not less than threescore years of age. She wore\na garland of gold upon her head, and her hair was white beneath it. The\nsecond damsel was thirty years of age, and she also wore a circlet of\ngold. The third was not over fifteen years old, and her garland was of\nflowers.\nThe knights halted and looked at them in surprise, asking them why they\nsat by that lonely fountain.\n\"We are here to await knights-errant who come in quest of adventures,\"\nthey said. \"If you three knights are in search of things strange and\nstirring, each of you must choose one of us. When this is done we shall\nlead you unto three highways, one of which each of you must take, and\nhis damsel with him. This day twelvemonth you must meet here again, and\nto all this you must pledge your troth, if God give you your lives to\nreturn.\"\n\"You speak well,\" said Marhaus. \"Adventures we seek, and no true\nknight-errant hesitates before the unknown and the dangerous. We shall\ndo as you say, each of us choose one of you, and then, whatsoever\nfortune wills, let it come.\"\n\"As for me,\" said Uwaine, \"since I am the youngest and weakest of the\nthree, I choose the eldest damsel. I have more need of help than either\nof you, and her age and knowledge may aid me well.\"\n\"Then I shall take her of middle age,\" said Marhaus. \"She fits me best.\"\n\"I thank you both,\" said Gawaine. \"You have left me the youngest and\nfairest, and the one most to my liking.\"\nThis said, each damsel took the reins of her knight, and they led them\nto the parting of the three ways. Here the knights took oath to meet at\nthe fountain that day twelvemonth if they were living, kissed each\nother, and departed, each knight taking his chosen lady on his steed\nbehind him. Of the three ways, Uwaine took that which lay west, Marhaus\nthat which lay south, and Gawaine took the way that lay north.\nOf the three we shall first follow Gawaine, who rode forward until he\ncame to a fair manor, where dwelt an old knight.\n\"Are there any adventures to be found in this country?\" he asked him.\n\"I shall show you some marvellous ones to-morrow,\" said his host.\nIn the morning, Gawaine and the old knight rode into the forest of\nadventures till they came to a wide, open lawn, upon which stood a\ncross. Here they halted and looked about them, and ere long saw\napproaching a knight of seemly aspect, who made the bitterest\nlamentations as he advanced. When he saw Gawaine he saluted him, and\nhoped that God would send him honor.\n\"As to that, gramercy,\" said Gawaine. \"I pray God, in return, that he\nsend you honor and worship.\"\n\"That will not come,\" said the knight. \"He sendeth me but sorrow and\nshame.\"\nAs he spoke he passed on to the other side of the lawn. Here Gawaine saw\nten knights, standing with shields and spears ready against this one\nwarrior. But he rode against them one by one, thrusting some over their\nhorses' tails, and hurling others to the ground, horse and man, until\nwith one spear he had unhorsed them all.\nBut when they were all ten on foot they went to the dolorous knight, who\nstood stone still, pulled him from his horse, and tied him beneath the\nanimal, without the least resistance on his part. This done, they led\nhim away, thus shamefully bound.\n\"That is an ugly sight,\" said Gawaine. \"Why does a knight of such\nprowess as this suffer himself to be so vilely treated?\"\n\"Sir,\" said, the damsel to Gawaine, \"why helped you not that good\nknight?\"\n\"He seems to want no help,\" said Gawaine. \"He could have taken care of\nhimself if he would.\"\n\"You had no desire to help him,\" retorted the damsel, \"or you would not\nhave stood by and seen so noble a warrior so foully served.\"\nAs they talked a knight appeared on the other side of the lawn, all\narmed but the head. And opposite him came a dwarf on horseback similarly\narmed. He had a great mouth and a short nose, and was as ill favored as\none would care to see.\n\"Where is the lady who should meet us here?\" asked the dwarf.\nIn response thereto a fair lady rode from the wood, mounted on a\nhandsome palfrey. On seeing her the knight and the dwarf began to\nstrive in hot words for her, each saying that she should be his prize.\n\"Yonder is a knight at the cross,\" said the dwarf, at length. \"Let us\nleave it to him, and abide by his decision.\"\n\"I agree to that,\" said the knight.\nThereupon they rode to Gawaine and told him the purpose of their strife.\n\"Do you put the matter into my hands?\" he asked.\n\"Yes,\" they both replied.\n\"Then this is my decision. Let the lady stand between you and make her\nown choice. The one she chooses, he shall have her.\"\nThis was done, and at once the lady turned from the knight and went to\nthe dwarf. Then the dwarf took her and went singing away, while the\nknight rode in grief and sorrow into the forest.\nBut the adventures of that day were not ended, for soon afterwards two\narmed knights rode from the forest, and one of them cried out loudly,--\n\"Sir Gawaine, knight of King Arthur, I am here to joust with you. So\nmake ready.\"\n\"Since you know me, I shall not fail you,\" answered Gawaine.\nThen the knights drew apart, and rode so furiously together that both\nwere unhorsed. Springing up, they drew their swords and continued the\nbattle on foot.\nMeanwhile, the second knight went to the damsel and asked why she stayed\nwith that knight, and begged her to go with him.\n\"That I will do,\" she replied. \"I like not the way Gawaine acted just\nnow, when one brave knight was overturned by ten dastards. So let us go\nwhile they fight.\"\nThe combat continued long, and then, as the knights seemed evenly\nmatched, they ceased in amity, the stranger knight inviting Gawaine to\nspend the night at his lodge. As they rode thither he asked his host,--\n\"Who is this valiant champion that overturns ten knights, and then\nsuffers them to bear him off bound hand and foot? I never saw so\nshameful a thing done.\"\n\"The thing has happened ten times and more,\" said Sir Carados. \"The\nknight is one of noble prowess, named Sir Pelleas, and he loves a great\nlady of this country named Ettard, who loves him not in return. What you\nhave seen came about in this way. There was of late days a great\ntournament in this country, at which Pelleas struck down every knight\nwho was opposed to him, unhorsing twenty knights within three days. His\nvalor and prowess won him the prize, which was a good sword, and a\ngolden circlet to be given to the fairest lady at the lists. This\ncirclet of gold he gave to the lady Ettard, whom he chose for the\nsovereign of his heart and the lady he loved above all women. But she\nwas so proud and haughty that she returned him scorn for his love, and\nthough he has followed her to her home she will not listen to his suit,\nor admit him in honor to her presence. He is lodged here near her, but\ncan gain sight of her only in a shameful way. Every week she sends\nknights to fight with him, and when he has overcome them he suffers\nthem to take him prisoner that he may feast his eyes on the face of his\nloved lady. But she does him great despite, for sometimes she has him\nbrought in tied to his horse's tail, and sometimes bound under the\nhorse, or in any other shameful manner she can think of. For all this he\nwill not leave, but makes himself a martyr to his love.\"\n\"He is a noble knight, and I greatly pity him,\" said Gawaine. \"I shall\nseek him to-morrow in the forest, and do what I can to help him.\"\nIn the morning he met Sir Pelleas, as he had promised, and heard from\nhim the story of his woe.\n\"If I loved her not so truly I should rather die a hundred times than\nsuffer such despite,\" he said. \"But I trust that she will pity and love\nme at last.\"\n\"Let me aid you, so far as I can,\" said Gawaine. \"I promise to do my\nutmost to gain you the love of your lady.\"\n\"Tell me who, and of what court, you are, my good friend?\" asked\nPelleas.\n\"My name is Gawaine; I am nephew to King Arthur, and King Lot of Orkney\nwas my father.\"\n\"My name is Pelleas,\" answered the lovelorn knight. \"I was born in the\nIsles, and am lord of many isles, but never till this unhappy time have\nI loved a lady. I pray you help me faithfully, for I get nothing from\nher but vile rebuke. She will not even hold me as prisoner, that I might\nsee her daily, but robs me of my horse and armor, and has me thrust\ndespitefully from her gates. She lives in a strong castle near by, and\nis lady of all this country. I fear you will not find it easy to obtain\nentrance.\"\n\"I shall use art instead of strength,\" said Gawaine. \"Lend me your horse\nand armor, and I will ride to her castle and tell her I have slain you.\nShe will let me in at that. Once admitted, I shall do my best to win you\nher love.\"\nHe plighted his honor to this, and therewith they changed horses and\narmor.\nLeaving the knight of the doleful visage, Gawaine rode to Ettard's\ncastle, whom he found in her pavilion outside the gate. On seeing him\nshe hastily fled to the castle, but he called her loudly, declaring that\nhe was not Pelleas, and that he had slain the knight and won his horse\nand armor.\n\"Take off your helm,\" she replied. \"Let me see your face.\"\nGawaine did so, and when she saw that he spoke the truth she bade him\nalight and led him into the castle, questioning him who he was and how\nhe had slain her tormenting admirer.\n\"I am sorry for his death,\" she said, \"for he was a worthy knight; but\nof all men I hated him most, and could never rid myself of his\nimportunities. As for you, Sir Gawaine, since you have done me this\nservice, I shall be your lady, for I cannot but love you.\"\nThen Gawaine was so entranced by the lady Ettard's blue eyes and fair\nface that he shamefully forgot his word of honor, and warmly returned\nher love. He remained with her and her knights in the castle, so happy\nin her presence as to ignore all the claims of duty and knightly faith.\nIt was now the month of May, and the air had grown warm and balmy. So it\nhappened one evening that they all left the castle to enjoy themselves\non the flowery meads outside. Believing Pelleas to be dead, Ettard lost\nall dread of unwelcome intrusion, and suggested that they should spend\nthe night in the open air, lulled to sleep by the soft winds and the\nperfume of flowers.\nBut by fortune it chanced that Pelleas, hearing no word from Gawaine,\nthat night mounted his horse and rode to the castle. It was a late hour,\nand he was surprised to see pavilions erected outside the gate, and\ncouches spread in the open air. As he came near he saw knights and\nladies asleep on these, while side by side lay Ettard and Gawaine,\nlocked in deep slumber.\nAnger and pain so filled the knight's heart at this that he drew his\nsword to slay his faithless friend, but on calmer thought he laid the\nnaked blade athwart the throats of knight and lady and rode away. On\nreaching his tent, he told his attendants what treachery he had endured,\nand that he had resolved to take to his bed and lie there till he should\ndie.\n\"And when I am dead I charge you to take my heart and bear it to the\nlady Ettard in a silver dish, and tell her that her falseness has slain\nthe faithfulest of lovers.\"\nMeanwhile Gawaine and Ettard awoke, and their dread was great on finding\nthe sword across their throats.\n\"It is Pelleas's sword!\" she cried. \"You have betrayed him and me both,\nfor you lied to me in saying that you had killed him. Only that he has\nproved himself a man of true honor, he would have slain us both. Leave\nme, traitor! Never let me see your false face again!\"\nGawaine had no words in answer, but hastily mounted his horse and rode\ninto the forest, feeling at heart that he had proved a traitor both to\nhonor and love.\nWhen morning dawned it happened that Nimue, the damsel of the lake, who\nby chance had come into that country, met with a follower of Sir\nPelleas, who was grieving sorely for the ill fortune of his master. She\nasked him the cause of his grief, and he told her the woeful tale of the\nlovelorn knight, and how he had taken to his bed, vowing never again to\nrise.\n\"He shall not die of love, I warrant you that,\" she said. \"Bring me to\nhim. I promise you that she who has treated him so vilely shall feel all\nthe pain she has made him endure.\"\nShe was accordingly brought to the tent of Pelleas, and a feeling of\npity and love grew in her heart as she looked on his noble and woe-worn\nface while he lay asleep. Therefore she deepened his slumber with a\nspell of enchantment, and charging that no man should wake him before\nher return, she rode through the forest to Ettard's castle.\nWithin two hours she brought the lady Ettard to the tent, where Pelleas\nstill lay wrapped in deep slumber.\n\"You should do penance for life to murder such a knight as this,\" she\nsaid. \"You have treated a true lover with shameful despite, and for\nlove's sake you shall pay the penalty of your misdeeds.\"\nThen she threw so deep a spell of enchantment on the proud lady that her\nformer scorn turned to the deepest love, and her heart went out to\nPelleas as if it would break with sorrow and remorse.\n\"Alas!\" she cried, \"I hated him above all men. What has befallen me that\nI love him now with my whole soul?\"\n\"It is God's righteous judgment,\" said Nimue.\nAs they spoke Pelleas awoke, and when he looked upon Ettard his eyes\nfilled with scorn and hatred.\n\"Away, traitress!\" he cried. \"Never again come within my sight. You have\ntaught me to hate you as much as I ever loved.\"\nThese scornful words wounded Ettard to the soul. She turned away weeping\nbitterly, and left the tent overwhelmed with anguish.\n\"Take your horse and leave this country, Sir Pelleas,\" said the damsel.\n\"Love not again till you can give your heart to a lady who is worthy of\nit.\"\n\"I have found such a one now,\" said the knight, fixing his eyes with\nwarm feeling upon her face. \"This lady Ettard has treated me\ndespitefully and turned all my love for her to hatred and scorn. But the\nlove I felt for her has gone out to you.\"\n\"Thank me for your delivery,\" said Nimue. \"It is too soon to talk of\nlove. But this I may say, that if you love me as you vow, you shall not\nfind me another Ettard.\"\nSoon after Pelleas arose and armed, and bidding his men to follow with\nthe pavilions and furniture, rode into the forest with the damsel of the\nlake, for whom the love in his heart grew each moment warmer.\n[Illustration: THE LOVE OF PELLEAS AND NIMUE.]\nAnd thus this woeful story ends in true love's joy and retribution; for\nthe false lady Ettard died in lovelorn sorrow, but Pelleas and Nimue\nlived together in true love during the remainder of their days, she\nbecoming his dear lady and wife.\nMeanwhile Marhaus and Uwaine pursued their course and had their\nadventures, but they were not so many and strange as those of Gawaine,\nand therefore we shall not tell them in full.\nAs for Uwaine, who rode away with the old damsel, he gained great honor\nat a tournament near the Welsh marches, winning the prize, which was a\ngerfalcon, and a white steed with trappings of cloth of gold. Many other\nadventures he had, and at last came to the castle of a noble lady, who\nwas called the Lady of the Rock. Her lands had been taken from her by\ntwo robber knights, named Sir Edward and Sir Hue of the Red Castle.\nThese Uwaine fought together, and with such good fortune that he killed\nSir Edward and forced Sir Hue to surrender the lady's lands. Then he\ndwelt at the castle of the Lady of the Rock for six months, till he was\nhealed of the many and deep wounds he had received in his battle with\nthe robber knights.\nMeanwhile, Marhaus rode southward with the damsel of thirty summers.\nMany adventures he had, and he won a circlet of gold as the victor in a\ntournament. At length he stopped at the castle of a noble earl named\nFergus, whose lands were harried by a giant named Taulard. Him Marhaus\nproffered to fight, as neither the earl nor any of his men dared meet\nhim.\nFierce and perilous was the battle that followed, for the giant was of\nmonstrous height and strength, and armed with iron clubs and great\nbattle-axes. But after a terrible contest, Marhaus, by a nimble stroke,\ncut off Taulard's right arm. Then the giant, bellowing with pain and\nterror, fled, and rushed into a stream of water beyond his pursuer's\nreach. But stones were brought to Marhaus by Fergus's men, and with\nthese he battered the giant so sorely that at length he fell over into\nthe water, where he was quickly drowned.\nAfterwards the victorious champion went to the giant's castle, where he\nfound in close captivity twenty-four ladies and twelve knights. These he\ndelivered from prison. He found also a great store of wealth, enough to\nmake him rich for the remainder of his life.\nWhen the year ended the three knights met again at the fountain, two of\nthem with their damsels; but Gawaine had lost his, and had come back\nmuch shorn of honor. Soon after they met by chance a messenger from King\nArthur, who had long been seeking the banished knights, with orders to\nbring them back to the court.\nSo the three knights journeyed to Camelot, where the king received them\ngraciously, and listened with admiration to the story of their\nadventures. And there, at the feast of Pentecost, came Pelleas and\nNimue, true lovers plighted. Then were held high feasts and tournaments,\nwhere many noble knights splintered spears and much honor was lost and\nwon. And here Marhaus and Pelleas bore themselves with such noble and\nmighty prowess, that all men vowed the glory of the tournament was\ntheirs, and King Arthur, glad to reward such deeds of valor, made them\nKnights of the Table Round.\nCHAPTER I.\nHOW TROUBLE CAME TO LIONEL AND HECTOR.\nAfter the strange deeds and adventures that have just been described, a\nseason of war came again to King Arthur and his realm, through which he\nwon great honor and renown. For Lucius, the Emperor of Rome, sent\nambassadors to Arthur, demanding tribute; and when he proudly refused\nthis demand Lucius gathered a great army and invaded the tributary\ndomains of Arthur, in Gaul.\nLong and fierce was the war that followed, for Arthur crossed to Gaul\nwith all the power of his realm; fought and killed, single-handed, a\nhuge giant who dwelt on St. Michael's Mount; defeated the army of Rome,\nand killed the emperor in single combat; and in the end was crowned\nemperor, in the imperial city of Rome.\nAll this story the chronicles give at length, and tell us also that in\nthis war the noble Lancelot du Lake, son of King Ban of Gaul, gained his\nfirst measure of renown.\nAfter the war had ended and the victorious host returned to England,\nmany adventures came to Lancelot, some of which we must here tell.\nGreat indeed was the valor and might of this worthiest of knights, who\nin after years proved himself in knightly prowess and chivalric honor\nthe noblest of men. In tournaments and deeds of arms, in sportive war or\nbattle for life or death, he passed all other knights, and was never\novercome but by treason or enchantment.\nAfter Arthur's return from Rome sports and feasts were given, and jousts\nand tournaments held, in which the Knights of the Round Table took part,\nmany who had gained no great fame in the war now proving themselves able\nand worthy warriors. But above them all Lancelot displayed such skill\nand prowess that he increased in honor and worship beyond any knight of\nArthur's court.\nAnd, as fortune and fate decreed, he loved Queen Guenever above all\nother ladies, while she held him in favor above all other knights,--a\nfavor that was destined thereafter to bring deep sorrow and trouble to\nEngland's realm. For her sake he did many noble deeds of arms, and he\nwas looked upon as her especial champion by all the court.\nAfter the return from Rome Lancelot rested long at the court, taking\npart in all its feasts and gayeties. But in time he grew weary of sport\nand play, and of the idle ways and empty flatteries of courtiers, and\nfelt a strong desire to wander abroad in search of strange adventures.\nSo he bade his nephew, Sir Lionel, to make ready, saying to him that\nthey two would leave the court and ride as knights-errant through the\nland, to right wrongs and punish crimes, to rescue the oppressed and\noverthrow the proud and haughty, and knightly to do and dare wherever\nthey went.\nSo on a day in spring, when the summer was coming with its flowers to\nadorn the rich green of the grassy meads, and the birds sang gayly in\nthe trees, the two knights armed themselves at all points and rode\nabroad, passing soon through a deep forest and into a verdant plain\nbeyond.\nNoon now came on, and the weather grew close and sultry, so that\nLancelot became drowsy. This he told to Lionel, who pointed to a large\napple-tree by a hedge, and said,--\n\"Yonder is a cool shadow. There we may rest ourselves and our horses\ntill the noontide heat has passed.\"\n\"You speak to the point,\" said Lancelot. \"Not for seven years have I\nbeen so sleepy as I am now?\"\nThey thereupon alighted, and tied their horses to neighboring trees, and\nLancelot laid himself down beneath the apple-boughs, with his helmet\nunder his head for a pillow. Soon he was in deep slumber, though Lionel\nkept awake.\nAs they lay thus three knights came riding by in panic fear, pushing\ntheir horses to the utmost speed, while a single knight followed them in\nfurious pursuit. So well-made and strong-limbed a man as this Lionel\nthought he had never seen nor one in all respects so fully armed.\nAs he looked, the pursuing knight overtook one of the fugitives, and\nwith a thrust of his spear flung him prostrate to the ground. Then he\nserved the other two in the same manner. This done, he alighted and\nbound the three knights with their own bridle-reins.\n[Illustration: Copyright by Frederick Hollyer, London, England.\nDREAM OF SIR LANCELOT.]\nWhen Lionel saw this, anger filled his soul, and he thought to win\nhonor in a bout of arms with this vigorous champion, so he quietly took\nhis horse, so as not to waken Lancelot, and rode towards the victor,\nloudly bidding him turn and try his fortune in a joust.\nBut the ambitious young knight soon found that he had let youthful pride\nbring him into trouble, for the strong warrior smote him so hard a blow\nthat horse and man went together to the earth. Then the victor alighted\nand served Lionel as he had done the others, binding him and flinging\nhim athwart his own horse.\nHe did the same with the three others, and rode away with his prisoners,\nuntil he came to a castle that lay beyond the plain. Here he forced them\nto remove their armor, and beat their naked skin with thorns till they\nwere ready to swoon with the pain. Then he had them thrust into a deep\nprison where were many other knights, whose groans and lamentations\nfilled the air with doleful sounds.\nThrough all this Lancelot slept on, nor did he waken from his slumber\ntill another misadventure had taken place. For Sir Hector de Maris, the\nbrother of Lionel, finding that Lancelot had left the court to seek\nadventures, was angry that he had not been asked to keep him company,\nand rode hastily after him, hoping to overtake him.\nAfter he had ridden long in the forest he met a man dressed like a\nforester, and asked him if any knightly adventures could be found near\nby.\n\"Sir knight,\" answered the forester, \"I know this country well, and can\npromise you all, and mayhap more, than you want. Within a mile of here\nis a strong manor; by that manor, on the left hand, is a fair ford for\nhorses to drink at; over that ford there grows a spreading tree; and on\nthat tree hang many shields which good knights once wielded. On the\ntrunk of the tree you will see a basin of brass and copper, and if you\nseek an adventure you have but to strike that basin thrice with the butt\nof your spear. If then you do not soon hear tidings of interest, you\nwill have the best fortune of any knight who has passed through this\nforest for many a long year.\"\n\"Gramercy, for your tidings,\" said Hector, and rode rapidly on.\nSoon he came to the manor and the tree, and saw the shields of which the\nforester had told him, and to his surprise and grief he noted among them\nthe shield of his brother Lionel, and many more that he knew belonged to\nRound Table knights. Then, with a heart full of thoughts of revenge, he\nbeat upon the basin roundly with his spear, until its clang rung far and\nwide. This done, he turned his horse and let him drink at the ford.\nAs he stood there he heard a loud voice behind him, bidding him come out\nof the water and make ready, and looking round he beheld a\npowerfully-built knight on a strong horse.\nHector wheeled his horse sharply, and putting his spear in rest rode\nfuriously upon this knight, striking him so fierce a blow that his horse\nturned twice around.\n\"Well done,\" said the stranger. \"That was a knightly blow. But beware,\nit is my turn now.\"\nAs he spoke he spurred his horse at full speed upon Hector, and struck\nhim so skilfully that the spear-head passed under his right arm and bore\nhim clear of the saddle into the air. Then, carrying the knight like a\ntrussed hare on his spear, the victor rode onward into his own open\nhall, and flung his captive down in the middle of the floor.\n\"You have done more to me than any knight has done for twelve years\npast,\" said the victor, whose name was Sir Turquine. \"Therefore I will\ngrant you your life and the liberty of the castle, but you must swear to\nbe my prisoner until death.\"\n\"That will I never promise,\" said Hector. \"I will remain captive to no\nman if I can free myself.\"\n\"Then I shall take care that you do not escape,\" said Turquine.\nWith these words he made Hector, on pain of death, remove his armor, and\nthen scourged him with thorns as he had done the others, and flung him\ninto the prison where lay so many of his fellows.\nWhen Hector saw his brother Lionel among these his heart was ready to\nbreak with sorrow.\n\"What has happened to Lancelot?\" he demanded. \"You rode with him, and\nhere you are a prisoner. Alas! tell me not that any harm has come to\nhim.\"\n\"Where he is and what he does I cannot tell,\" said Lionel. \"I left him\nasleep under an apple-tree and rode alone on this dolorous venture.\nWould that I had wakened him first.\"\n\"Alas!\" cried the knights, \"we may never be delivered unless Lancelot\ncomes to our aid. Of all knights living we know none but him who is a\nfair match for Turquine, our robber lord.\"\nCHAPTER II.\nTHE CONTEST OF THE FOUR QUEENS.\nNoon had passed by, but the day was still warm, and Lancelot lay yet in\ndeep slumber, dreaming nothing of what had happened while he slept. But\nnow there rode by the apple-tree under which he lay a royal and\nbrilliant cavalcade. For in it were four queens of high estate, who were\nmounted on white mules, and attired in regal robes, while beside them\nrode four knights who bore on their spear-points a cloth of green silk,\nso held as to shield the queens from the heat of the sun.\nAs they rode by Lancelot's place of slumber they were startled by the\nloud neigh of a war-horse, and looking about them they became aware of\nthe sleeping knight beneath the apple-tree. They drew near and looked\nupon his face, and at once knew him for Lancelot du Lake. Then they\nbegan pleasantly to strive as to which of them should have the sleeping\nknight for her lover.\n\"Let me settle this debate,\" said Morgan le Fay, who was one of the\nqueens. \"I shall by enchantment make his sleep hold for six hours to\ncome, and shall have him borne to my castle. When he is safely within my\npower I shall remove the enchantment, and then he shall be made to\nchoose which of us he will have for his love. If he refuse us all he\nshall pay the penalty.\"\nShe did as she had said. Lancelot was laid sleeping upon his shield and\nborne on horseback between two knights, and so brought to a castle\nnamed Chariot, where he was laid, still slumbering, in a chamber. At\nnight-fall a fair damsel was sent to him with his supper ready prepared.\nBy that time the enchantment was past, and Lancelot woke as the damsel\ncame into his chamber and asked him how he fared.\n\"That I am not ready to say,\" answered Lancelot; \"for I know not how I\ncame into this castle unless it were by enchantment.\"\n\"As to that I cannot speak,\" she replied. \"I can but bid you eat. If you\nbe such a knight as men say, I shall tell you more to-morrow morn.\"\n\"Thanks, fair damsel,\" said Lancelot. \"It pleases me to have your good\nwill.\"\nLittle comfort had the good knight of that night's sleep; but early in\nthe morning there came to him the four queens, each dressed in her\nrichest attire, adorned with rare jewels, and as beautiful as art and\nskill could make them.\nThey bade him good morning and he returned their greeting, looking upon\nthem with eyes of admiration, but not of love.\n\"You are our prisoner, sir knight,\" said Morgan. \"We know you well. You\nare Lancelot of the Lake, King Ban's son. And well we understand that\nyou are named the worthiest knight living, and that men say that no lady\nin the land but Queen Guenever can have your love. But this we would\nhave you know, that you must choose one of us four as your heart's\nqueen, for if you refuse you shall never see Arthur's queen again. I am\nMorgan le Fay, queen of the land of Gore, and here is the Queen of\nNorthgalis, the Queen of East-land, and the Queen of the Out Islands. We\nbid you to forget Guenever and choose of us the one you will have for\nyour love. If you choose not it will be worse for you, for I shall hold\nyou in prison until death.\"\n\"This is a hard chance,\" said Lancelot, \"that I must die in prison or\nprofess a love that I do not feel. Let me tell you this, though I die\ntwice in your dungeon I will have none of you, for you are false\nenchantresses and not true dames for honest men to love. As for dame\nGuenever, were I at liberty I would prove it on all the knights whom you\ncommand that she is of all ladies the truest to her lord.\"\n\"Is this, then, your answer,\" said Morgan, \"that you disdain our love?\"\n\"On my life it is!\" cried Lancelot. \"Such love as yours is not for\nhonest knights; and my love is not to be had for the bidding.\"\n\"You may live to change your mind,\" said Morgan. \"Prison life and prison\nfare may cure your pride.\"\nWith these words they departed, leaving Lancelot in gloom of mind but\nsteadfastness of heart.\nAt noon, the damsel who had brought him his supper the night before came\nwith his dinner, and asked him again how he fared.\n\"Never so ill,\" said Lancelot. \"For never before was I held under lock\nand key, and never was worthy knight so shamefully entreated.\"\n\"It grieves me deeply to see you in such distress,\" she said. \"If you\nwill be ruled by me, and make me a promise, you shall be set free from\nthis prison, though at the risk of my life.\"\n\"I will grant your wish if it be in my power,\" said Lancelot. \"These\nqueenly sorceresses have destroyed many a good knight, and I would give\nmuch to be out of their hands.\"\n\"They crave your love from what they have heard of your honor and\nrenown,\" answered the damsel. \"They say your name is Lancelot du Lake,\nthe flower of knights, and your refusal of their love has filled their\nsouls with anger. But for my aid you might die in their hands. The\npromise I ask is this. On Tuesday morning next there is to be a\ntournament between my father and the King of Northgalis. My father was\nlately overpowered by three of Arthur's knights, and if you will be\nthere and help him in this coming fray I will engage to deliver you from\nyour bondage at dawn to-morrow.\"\n\"Tell me your father's name,\" said Lancelot, \"and then you shall have my\nanswer.\"\n\"His name is King Bagdemagus.\"\n\"I know him well,\" said Lancelot. \"He is a noble king and a good knight.\nBy the faith of my body, I promise to give him what aid I can.\"\n\"A hundred thanks, dear sir,\" she said. \"Be ready to-morrow early. I\nshall be here to deliver you, and take you to where you can find your\nhorse and armor. Within ten miles of this castle is an abbey of white\nmonks. There I beg you to stay and thither I shall bring my father to\nyou.\"\n\"As I am a true knight you can trust me,\" said Lancelot.\nWith this the damsel departed. But at early dawn of the next day she\ncame again, as she had promised, and found Lancelot ready and eager for\nflight. Then they crept through hall and passage, with heedful tread and\nbated breath, until she had opened twelve locked doors and reached the\ncastle yard.\nThe sun was just giving its rose tints to the east when she brought him\nto the place where his horse and armor were kept, and with hasty fingers\nhelped him to arm. Then, taking a great spear and mounting his noble\nsteed, Lancelot rode forth, saying cheerily,--\n\"Fair damsel, by the grace of God I shall not fail you.\"\nAnd still slumber lay deep upon the castle, and not one of the queens\nnor a soul of those who dwelt therein was wakened by the sound.\nBut not far had the escaping knight departed from the castle before he\nentered a thick forest, in whose depths he wandered lost all that day,\nfinding no high road, and no trace of the abbey of white monks. Night at\nlength came upon him, and now he found himself in a valley where he saw\na pavilion of red sendal.\n\"Fortune aids me,\" said Lancelot. \"Whoever owns that pavilion, it shall\ngive me shelter for the night.\"\nHe thereupon alighted, tied his horse to a tree near by, and entered the\npavilion, in which was a comfortable bed. Disarming, he laid himself\ntherein, and very soon was lost in heavy slumber.\nWithin an hour afterwards the knight who owned the pavilion came\nthither, and laid himself upon the bed without noticing that it was\nalready occupied. His entrance wakened Lancelot, who, on feeling this\nintrusion, sprang in quick alarm from the bed and grasped his sword. The\nother knight, no less alarmed, did the same, and sword in hand they\nrushed out from the pavilion into the open air, and fell into mortal\ncombat by the side of a little stream that there ran past.\nThe fight was quickly at an end, for after a few passes the knight of\nthe pavilion fell to the earth, wounded nearly unto death.\n\"I yield me, sir knight,\" he cried. \"But I fear I have fought my last.\"\n\"Why came you into my bed?\" demanded Lancelot.\n\"The pavilion is my own,\" said the knight. \"It is ill fortune that I\nshould die for seeking my own bed.\"\n\"Then I am sorry to have hurt you,\" said Lancelot. \"I have lately been\nbeguiled by treason, and was in dread of it. Come into the pavilion. It\nmay be that I can stanch your blood.\"\nThey entered the pavilion, where Lancelot, with skilful hands, dressed\nthe knight's wound and stopped the bleeding. As he did so the knight's\nlady entered the pavilion, and fell into deep lamentation and accusal of\nLancelot, on seeing how sorely her lord was hurt.\n\"Peace, my lady and love,\" said the knight. \"This is a worthy and\nhonorable gentleman. I am in fault for my hurt, and he has saved my life\nby his skill and care.\"\n\"Will you tell me what knight you are?\" asked the lady.\n\"Fair lady,\" he replied, \"my name is Lancelot du Lake.\"\n\"So your face and voice told me,\" she replied, \"for I have seen you\noften, and know you better than you deem. And I would ask of your\ncourtesy, for the harm you have done to my lord Beleus and the grief you\nhave given me, that you will cause my lord to be made a Knight of the\nRound Table. This I can say for him, that he is a man of warlike\nprowess, and the lord of many islands.\"\n\"Let him come to the court at the next high feast,\" said Lancelot; \"and\ncome you with him. I shall do what I can for him, and if he prove as\ngood a knight as you say, I doubt not but King Arthur will grant your\nrequest.\"\nWhile they still talked the night passed and the day dawned. Then\nLancelot armed himself, and asking of them the way to the abbey, rode\nthither, where he arrived within the space of two hours.\nAs Lancelot rode within the abbey yard, the damsel to whom he owed his\ndeliverance from the prison of Morgan le Fay sprang from a couch and ran\nto a window, roused by the loud clang of hoofs upon the pavement.\nSeeing who it was, she hurried gladly down, and bade some of the men to\ntake his horse to the stable, and others to lead him to a chamber,\nwhither she sent him a robe to wear when he had laid off his armor.\n[Illustration: OLD ARCHES OF THE ABBEY WALL.]\nThen she entered the chamber and bade him heartily welcome, saying that\nof all knights in the world he was the one she most wished to see.\nOrdering breakfast to be prepared for the hungry knight, she sent in\nhaste for her father, who was within twelve miles of the abbey. Before\neventide he came, and with him a fair following of knights.\nAs soon as King Bagdemagus reached the abbey, he went straight to the\nroom where were Lancelot and his daughter in conversation, and took\nLancelot in his arms, bidding him warmly welcome.\nIn the talk that followed, Lancelot told the king of his late\nadventures, the loss of his nephew Lionel, his own betrayal, and his\nrescue by the maiden, his daughter: \"For which,\" he said, \"I owe my best\nservice to her and hers while I live.\"\n\"Then can I trust in your help on Tuesday next?\" asked the king.\n\"That I have already promised your daughter,\" said Lancelot. \"I shall\nnot fail. But she tells me that in your last bout you lost the field\nthrough three of King Arthur's knights, who aided the King of\nNorthgalis, and that it is against these knights you need assistance.\nWhat knights were they?\"\n\"They were Sir Mador de la Porte, Sir Mordred, and Sir Gahalatine. Do\nwhat we could, neither I nor my knights could make head against them.\"\n\"I would not have them know me,\" said Lancelot. \"My plan, therefore, is\nthis. Send me here three of your best knights, and see that they have\nwhite shields, with no device, and that I also have such a shield. Then\nshall we four, when the fight is well on, come out of a wood into the\nmidst of the fray, and do what we can to defeat these champions.\"\nThis plan was carried out as Lancelot had devised. On the day fixed for\nthe tournament he, with his three white-shielded companions, placed\nhimself in ambush in a leafy grove near where the lists were raised.\nAround the field were rows of benches where the spectators might sit,\nand richly-adorned seats for the lords and ladies who were to adjudge\nthe combat and award the prize of skill and valor.\nThen into the lists rode the King of Northgalis, with a following of\nfourscore knights, and attended by the three knights of Arthur's court,\nwho stood apart by themselves. Into the opposite side of the lists rode\nKing Bagdemagus, with as many knights in his train.\nWhen all were in place the signal for the onset was given, and the\nknights put their spears in rest and rode together with a great rush,\nand with such fatal fortune that twelve of the party of Bagdemagus and\nsix of that of Northgalis were slain at the first encounter, while the\nknights of King Bagdemagus were driven back in disorder.\nAt this critical juncture Lancelot and his companions broke from their\nconcealment and rode into the lists, forcing their horses into the thick\nof the press. Then Lancelot did deeds of such marvellous strength and\nskill that all men deeply wondered who could be the valiant knight of\nthe white shield. For with one spear he smote down five knights, with\nsuch force that four of them broke their backs in the fall. Then turning\non the King of Northgalis, he hurled him from his horse and broke his\nthigh.\nThe three knights of Arthur's court, who had not yet joined in the fray,\nsaw this, and rode forward.\n\"A shrewd guest that,\" said Mador. \"Let me have at him.\"\nBut his fortune was not equal to his hopes, for Lancelot bore down horse\nand man, so that Mador's shoulder was put out of joint by the fall.\n\"Now is my turn,\" said Mordred.\nHe rode fiercely on Lancelot, who turned nimbly and met him in full\ncareer, Mordred's spear shivering unto his hand when it struck the firm\nwhite shield. But Lancelot gave him so shrewd a buffet that the bow of\nhis saddle broke, and he was flung over his horse's tail with such\nviolence that his helmet went more than a foot into the earth. Fortune\nsaved him from a broken neck, but he lay long in a swoon.\nThen Gahalatine and Lancelot rode together with all their force, the\nspears of both breaking, but both keeping their seats. They now drew\ntheir swords, and struck each other many a keen blow. At length\nLancelot, with a burst of wrath, smote Gahalatine so fierce a stroke on\nthe helm that blood burst from his nose, mouth, and ears, and his head\ndrooped on his breast. His horse ran in fright from the fray, while he\nfell headlong from his saddle to the ground.\nLancelot now drew back and received from the attendants a stout, strong\nspear, and with this rode again into the fray. Before that spear broke\nhe had unhorsed sixteen knights, some of them being borne from their\nsaddles, while others were hurled horse and man together to the earth.\nThen getting another spear he unhorsed twelve more knights, some of whom\nnever throve afterwards. This ended the tournament, for the knights of\nNorthgalis refused to fight any longer against a champion of such\nmighty prowess, and the prize was awarded to King Bagdemagus.\nLancelot now rode with King Bagdemagus from the lists to his castle,\nwhere they had great feasting and rejoicing, and where Lancelot was\nproffered rich gifts for the noble service he had rendered. But these he\nrefused to accept.\nOn the following morning Lancelot took his leave, saying that he must go\nin search of Lionel, who had vanished from his side during his sleep.\nBut before going he commended all present to God's grace, and said to\nthe king's daughter,--\n\"If you have need any time of my service I pray you let me know, and I\nshall not fail you, as I am a true knight.\"\nAnd so Lancelot departed, having had strange adventures and won much\nrenown since he had parted from his nephew Lionel.\nCHAPTER III.\nHOW LANCELOT AND TURQUINE FOUGHT.\nNot far nor long had Lancelot ridden before he found himself in familiar\nscenes, and in a short time he beheld that same apple-tree under which\nhe had lain asleep.\n\"I shall take care never to sleep again beneath your shade,\" he said,\ngrimly. \"The fruit you bear is not wholesome for errant knights.\"\nHe rode by it, but had not followed the highway far when he met a damsel\nriding on a white palfrey, who saluted him. He courteously returned her\nsalute, and said,--\n\"Fair damsel, know you of any adventures that may be had in this land?\"\n\"Sir knight,\" she replied, \"if you crave adventures you will not need to\ngo far to find one. But it is one it might be safest for you not to\nundertake.\"\n\"Why should I not?\" said Lancelot. \"I came here seeking adventures, and\nam not the man to turn back from a shadow.\"\n\"You seem to be a good knight,\" she replied, regarding him closely. \"If\nyou dare face a powerful fighter, I can bring you where is the best and\nmightiest in this land. But first I would know what knight you are.\"\n\"As for my name, you are welcome to it,\" he replied. \"Men call me\nLancelot du Lake.\"\n\"This, then, is the adventure. Near by there dwells a knight who has\nnever yet found his match, and who is ever ready for a joust. His name\nis Sir Turquine. As I am told, he has overcome and has in prison in his\ncastle sixty-four knights of Arthur's court, whom he has met and\nvanquished in single combat. You shall fight with him if you will. And\nif you overcome him, then I shall beg for your aid against a false\nknight who daily distresses me and other damsels. Have I your promise?\"\n\"There is nothing I would rather do,\" said Lancelot. \"Bring me now where\nI may meet this Turquine. When I have ended with him I shall be at your\nservice.\"\n\"Come this way,\" she replied, and led him to the ford and the tree where\nhung the basin.\nLancelot waited here until his horse had drunk, and then he beat on the\nbasin with the butt of his spear with such force that its bottom fell\nout, but no one answered his challenge. He knocked then loudly at the\nmanor gates, but they remained closed. Finding no entrance, he rode for\nhalf an hour along the manor walls, looking heedfully for Sir Turquine,\nwhom he fancied must be abroad. At the end of that time he saw a knight\nwho drove a horse before him, and athwart that horse lay an armed\nknight, bound.\nAs they drew near, Lancelot noticed something familiar in the aspect of\nthe bound knight, and when they had come close he recognized him as\nGaheris, the brother of Gawaine, and a Knight of the Round Table.\n\"That prisoner is a fellow of mine,\" he said to the damsel. \"I shall\nbegin, I promise you, by God's help, with rescuing him; and unless his\ncaptor sit better than I in the saddle, I shall deliver all his\nprisoners, among whom, I am sure, are some of my near kindred.\"\nBy this time Turquine was close at hand, and on seeing an armed knight\nthus confront him he drew up his horse and gripped his spear fiercely.\n\"Fair sir,\" said Lancelot, \"put down that wounded knight and let him\nrest a while, while you and I find out who is the better man. I am told\nyou have done much wrong to Knights of the Round Table, and I am here to\nrevenge them. Therefore, defend yourself.\"\n\"If you be of the Round Table,\" said Turquine, \"I defy you and all your\nfellowship.\"\n\"That is easy to say,\" retorted Lancelot. \"Now let me see what you are\nready to do.\"\nThen, they put their spears in the rests, and rode together with the\nforce of two ships meeting in mid-ocean, smiting each other so strongly\nin the midst of their shields that the backs of both horses broke\nbeneath them. The knights, astonished at this result, leaped hastily to\nthe ground to avoid being overthrown.\nThen, drawing their swords and bearing their shields in front, they came\nhotly together, striking with such force that shield and armor alike\ngave way beneath the mighty blows, and blood soon began to flow freely\nfrom their wounds. Thus for two hours and more the deadly contest\ncontinued, the knights striking, parrying, advancing, and retiring with\nall the skill of perfect swordsmen. At the last they both paused through\nlack of breath, and stood leaning upon their swords, and facing each\nother grimly.\n\"Hold thy hand a while, fellow,\" said Turquine, \"and tell me what I\nshall ask thee.\"\n\"Say on,\" rejoined Lancelot, briefly.\n\"Thou art the strongest and best-breathed man that ever I met with, and\nart much like the knight that I hate most of all men. If you are not he,\nthen for the esteem I have for you I will release all my prisoners, and\nwe shall be fellows together while we live. But first of all I would\nknow your name.\"\n\"You speak well,\" said Lancelot. \"But since you promise me your\nfriendship, tell me what knight it is you hate so deeply?\"\n\"His name,\" said Turquine, \"is Lancelot du Lake. He slew my brother\nCarados at the dolorous tower, and I have vowed that, if I should meet\nhim, one of us shall make an end of the other. Through hate of him I\nhave slain a hundred knights, and maimed as many more, while of those I\nhave thrown in prison, many are dead, and threescore and four yet live.\nIf you will tell me your name, and it be not Lancelot, all these shall\nbe delivered.\"\n\"It stands, then,\" said Lancelot, \"that if I be one man I may have your\npeace and friendship, and if I be another man there will be mortal war\nbetween us. If you would know my name, it is Lancelot du Lake, son of\nKing Ban of Benwick, and Knight of the Table Round. And now do your\nbest, for I defy you.\"\n\"Ah, Lancelot!\" said Turquine, \"never was knight so welcome to me. This\nis the meeting I have long sought, and we shall never part till one of\nus be dead.\"\nThen they rushed together like two wild bulls, lashing at each other\nwith shield and sword, and striking such fiery blows that pieces of\nsteel flew from their armor of proof, and blood poured from many new\nwounds.\nTwo hours longer the fight continued, Turquine giving Lancelot many\nwounds and receiving stinging blows in return, till at the end he drew\nback faint with loss of breath and of blood, and bore his shield low\nthrough weakness. This Lancelot quickly perceived, and leaped fiercely\nupon him, seizing him by the beaver of his helmet and dragging him down\nto his knees. Then he tore off his helm, and swinging in the air his\nfatal blade, smote off his head so that it leaped like a live thing upon\nthe ground, while the body fell prostrate in death.\n\"So much for Turquine,\" said Lancelot. \"He will take prisoner no more\nRound Table knights. But by my faith, there are not many such men as he,\nand he and I might have faced the world. Now, damsel, I am ready to go\nwith you where you will, but I have no horse.\"\n\"Take that of this wounded knight; and let him go into the manor and\nrelease the prisoners.\"\n\"That is well advised,\" said Lancelot, who thereupon went to Gaheris and\nbegged that he would lend him his horse.\n\"Lend it!\" cried Gaheris. \"I will give it, and would give ten if I had\nthem, for I owe my life and my horse both to you. You have slain in my\nsight the mightiest man and the best knight that I ever saw, except\nyourself. And, fair sir, I pray you tell me your name?\"\n\"My name is Lancelot du Lake. I owe you rescue for King Arthur's sake,\nand for that of Gawaine, your brother and my comrade. Within that manor\nyou will find many Knights of the Round Table, whose shields you may see\non yonder tree. I pray you greet them all from me, and say I bid them\ntake for their own such stuff as they find there. I must ride on with\nthis damsel to keep my promise, but I hope to be back at the court by\nthe feast of Pentecost. Bid Lionel and Hector await me there.\"\nThis said, he mounted and rode on, while Gaheris went into the\nmanor-house. Here he found a yeoman porter, who accosted him surlily.\nGaheris flung the dogged fellow to the floor, and took from him his\nkeys. With these he opened the prison doors and released the captives,\nwho thanked him warmly for their rescue, for they saw that he was\nwounded, and deemed that he had vanquished Turquine.\n\"It was not I,\" said Gaheris, \"that slew your tyrant. You have Lancelot\nto thank for that. He greets you all, and asks Lionel and Hector to wait\nfor him at the court.\"\n\"That we shall not do,\" said they. \"While we live we shall seek him.\"\n\"So shall I,\" said Kay, who was among the prisoners, \"as I am a true\nknight.\"\nThen the released knights sought their armor and horses, and as they did\nso a forester rode into the court, with four horses laden with fat\nvenison.\n\"Here is for us,\" said Kay. \"We have not had such a repast as this\npromises for many a long day. That rogue Turquine owes us a dinner at\nleast.\"\nThen the manor-kitchens were set in a blaze, and the venison was\nroasted, baked, and sodden, the half-starved knights enjoying such a\nhearty meal as they had long been without. Some of them afterwards\nstayed in the manor-house for the night, though in more agreeable\nquarters than they had of late occupied. But Lionel, Hector, and Kay\nrode in quest of Lancelot, resolved to find him if it were possible,\nand to lose no time in the search.\nAs for the victorious knight, he had many strange adventures, of which\nwe can tell only those of most interest. First of all, he performed the\ntask which the damsel required of him, for he met and killed that false\nknight against whom she prayed for redress.\n\"You have done this day a double service to mankind,\" said the damsel,\ngratefully. \"As Turquine destroyed knights, so did this villain, whose\nname was Peris de Forest Savage, destroy and distress ladies and\ngentlewomen, and he is well repaid for his villany.\"\n\"Do you want any more service of me?\" asked Lancelot.\n\"Not at this time. But may heaven preserve you wherever you go, for you\ndeserve the prayers of all who are in distress. But one thing, it seems\nto me, you lack: you are a wifeless knight. The world says that you will\nlove no maiden, but that your heart is turned only to Queen Guenever,\nwho has ordained by enchantment that you shall love none but her. This I\nhold to be a great pity, and many in the land are sorry to see so noble\na knight so enchained.\"\n\"I cannot stop people from thinking what they will,\" said Lancelot, \"but\nas for marrying, I shall not soon consent to be a stay-at-home knight.\nAnd as for Guenever's enchantment, it is only that of beauty and womanly\ngraciousness. What time may bring me I know not, but as yet it has not\nbrought me a fancy for wedded life. I thank you for your good wishes,\nfair damsel, and courteously bid you farewell.\"\nWith these words Lancelot and she parted, she seeking her home, and the\nknight riding in quest of new adventures. For two days his journey\ncontinued, through a country strange to him. On the morning of the third\nday he found himself beside a wide stream, which was crossed by a long\nbridge, beyond which rose the battlemented towers of a strong castle.\nLancelot rode upon the bridge, but before he had reached its middle\nthere started out a foul-faced churl, who smote his horse a hard blow on\nthe nose, and asked him surlily why he dared cross that bridge without\nlicense.\n\"Why should I not, if I wish?\" asked the knight. \"Who has the right to\nhinder?\"\n\"I have,\" cried the churl. \"You may choose what you will, but you shall\nnot ride here,\" and he struck at him furiously with a great iron-shod\nclub.\nAt this affront Lancelot angrily drew his sword, and with one stroke\nwarded off the blow, and cut the churl's head in twain.\n\"So much for you, fool,\" he said.\nBut when he reached the end of the bridge he found there a village,\nwhose people cried out to him, \"You have done a sorry deed for yourself,\nfor you have slain the chief porter of our castle.\"\nLancelot rode on, heedless of their cries, and forcing his great horse\nthrough the throng till he came to the castle walls. The gates of these\nstood open, and he rode in, where he saw a fair green court, and beyond\nit the stately walls and towers. At the windows were the faces of many\npeople, who cried to him in dismay,--\n\"Fair knight, turn and fly. Death awaits you here.\"\n\"Fly! I have not learned how,\" answered Lancelot, as he sprang from his\nhorse and tied him to a ring in the wall. \"This court seems a fair place\nfor knightly combat, and it fits better with my mood to fight than fly.\"\nHardly had he spoken when from the castle doors came two strong giants,\narmed all but their heads, and bearing as weapons great iron clubs. They\nset upon Lancelot together, the foremost making a stroke that would have\nslain him had it reached him. But the knight warded it off with his\nshield, and agilely returned the blow with his sword, with so vigorous a\nstroke that he cleft the giant's head in twain.\nWhen his fellow saw this, he turned and ran in panic fear, but Lancelot\nfuriously pursued him, and struck him so fierce a blow that the sword\nclove his great body asunder from shoulder to waist.\n\"Is it not better to fight than to fly?\" cried Lancelot to the glad\nfaces which he now saw at the windows, and, leaving the dead giants\ncrimsoning the green verdure, he strode into the castle hall, where\nthere came before him threescore ladies, who fell on their knees and\nthanked God and him for their deliverance.\n\"Blessed be the day thou wert born, sir knight,\" they said, \"for many\nbrave warriors have died in seeking to do what thou hast achieved this\nday. We are all of us gentlewomen born, and many of us have been\nprisoners here for seven years, working in silk for these giants that we\nmight earn our food. We pray you to tell us your name, that our friends\nmay know who has delivered us, and remember you in their prayers.\"\n\"Fair ladies,\" he said, \"my name is Lancelot du Lake.\"\n\"You may well be he,\" they replied. \"For we know no other knight that\ncould have faced those giants together, and slain them as you have\ndone.\"\n\"Say unto your friends,\" said Lancelot, \"that I send them greeting, and\nthat I shall expect good cheer from them if ever I should come into\ntheir manors. As for the treasure in this castle, I give it to you in\npayment for your captivity. For the castle itself, its lord, whom these\ngiants have dispossessed, may claim again his heritage.\"\n\"The castle,\" they replied, \"is named Tintagil. The duke who owned it\nwas the husband of Queen Igraine, King Arthur's mother. But it has long\nbeen held by these miscreant giants.\"\n\"Then,\" said Lancelot, \"the castle belongs to the king, and shall be\nreturned to him. And now farewell, and God be with you.\"\nSo saying, he mounted his horse and rode away, followed by the thanks\nand prayers of the rescued ladies.\nCHAPTER IV.\nTHE CHAPEL PERILOUS.\nLancelot rode onward day after day, passing through many strange and\nwild countries, and over many rivers, and finding but sorry cheer and\nill lodging as he went. At length fortune brought him to a comfortable\nwayside mansion, where he was well received, and after a good supper was\nlodged in a chamber over the gateway.\nBut he had not been long asleep when he was aroused by a furious\nknocking at the gate. Springing from his bed, he looked from the window,\nand there by the moonlight saw one knight defending himself against\nthree, who were pressing him closely. The knight fought bravely, but was\nin danger of being overpowered.\n\"Those are not fair odds,\" said Lancelot. \"I must to the rescue, and the\nmore so as I see that it is my old friend, Sir Kay, who is being so\nroughly handled.\"\nThen he hastily put on his armor, and by aid of a sheet lowered himself\nfrom a window to the ground.\n\"Turn this way,\" he cried to the assailants, \"and leave that knight.\nThree to one is not knightly odds.\"\nAt these words they turned upon him, all three striking at him together,\nand forcing him to defend himself. Kay would have come to his aid, but\nhe cried out,--\n\"I will have none of your help. Stand off and leave me alone, or fight\nthem yourself.\"\nAt this Kay stood aside, and Lancelot attacked the three miscreants so\nfiercely that within six strokes he felled them all to the ground. They\nnow begged for mercy, yielding to him as a man of matchless skill.\n\"I will not take your yielding,\" he replied. \"Yield to Sir Kay, here,\nwhom you foully over-matched.\"\n\"You ask too much of us, fair sir. It is not just that we should yield\nto him whom we would have vanquished but for you.\"\n\"Think well,\" returned Lancelot. \"You shall yield or die. The choice is\nyours.\"\n\"That is a choice with but one side. Yield we must, if death is the\nalternative.\"\n\"Then I bid you on Whitsunday next, to present yourselves to Queen\nGuenever at King Arthur's court, and put yourselves in her grace and\nmercy, saying that Sir Kay sent you there as prisoners.\"\nThis they took oath to do, each knight swearing upon his sword;\nwhereupon Lancelot suffered them to depart.\nHe now knocked at the gate with the pommel of his sword, till his host\ncame, who started with surprise on seeing him there.\n\"I thought you were safe a-bed,\" he said.\n\"So I was. But I sprang from the window to help an old fellow of mine.\"\nWhen they came to the light, Kay recognized Lancelot, and fell on his\nknees to thank him for saving his life.\n\"What I have done is nothing but what duty and good fellowship\ndemanded,\" said Lancelot. \"Are you hungry?\"\n\"Half starved,\" answered Kay.\n\"Mayhap our good host can find you food.\"\nMeat was thereupon brought, of which Kay ate heartily, after which he\nand Lancelot sought their beds in the gate chamber.\nBut in the morning Lancelot rose while Kay was still asleep, and took\nhis guest's armor and shield, leaving his own. Then he proceeded to the\nstable, mounted his horse, and rode away. Shortly afterwards Kay awoke,\nand quickly perceived what his comrade had done.\n\"Good,\" he said, with a laugh. \"Lancelot is after some sport. I fancy\nthat more than one knight will get more than he bargains for if he\nthinks he has me to deal with. As for me, with Lancelot's armor and\nshield, I shall be left to ride in peace, for few, I fancy, will trouble\nme.\"\nKay thereupon put on Lancelot's armor, and, thanking his host, rode\naway. Meanwhile Lancelot had ridden on till he found himself in a low\ncountry full of meadows and rivers. Here he passed a bridge at whose end\nwere three pavilions of silk and sendal, and at the door of each a white\nshield on the truncheon of a spear, while three squires stood at the\npavilion doors. Lancelot rode leisurely by, without a word and hardly a\nlook.\nWhen he had passed, the knights looked after him, saying to one another,\n\"That is the proud Kay. He deems no knight so good as he, though it has\noften been proved otherwise.\"\n\"I shall ride after him,\" said one. \"We shall see if his pride does not\nhave a fall. Watch me, comrades, if you would see some sport.\"\nHe sped but poorly, as it proved, for within a short time he was hurled\ngrovelling to the earth. Then the two others rode in succession against\nthe disguised knight, and both met with the same sorry fate.\n\"You are not Kay, the seneschal,\" they cried. \"He never struck such\nblows. Tell us your name and we will yield.\"\n\"You shall yield, whether you will or not,\" he replied. \"Look that you\nbe at court by Whitsunday, and yield yourselves to Queen Guenever,\nsaying to her that Sir Kay sent you thither as prisoners.\"\nThis they swore to do, in dread of worse handling, and Lancelot rode on,\nleaving them to help themselves as best they might. Not far had he gone\nwhen he entered a forest, and in an open glade of this saw four knights\nresting under an oak. He knew them at sight to be from Arthur's court,\ntwo of them being Gawaine and Uwaine; the other two Hector de Maris, and\nSagramour le Desirous.\nThey, as the three previous knights had done, mistook Lancelot for Kay,\nand Sagramour rode after him, vowing that he would try what skill the\nseneschal had. He quickly found, for horse and man together were hurled\nto the ground, while Lancelot sat unmoved in his saddle.\n\"I would have sworn that Kay could not give such a buffet as that,\" said\nHector. \"Let us see what I can do with him.\"\nHis luck was even worse, for he went to the earth with a spear-hole in\nhis shoulder, his shield and armor being pierced.\n\"By my faith!\" said Uwaine, \"that knight is a bigger and stronger man\nthan Kay. He must have slain the seneschal and taken his armor. He has\nproved himself a hard man to match, but if Kay has been slain it is our\nduty to revenge him.\"\nHe thereupon rode against Lancelot, but with as ill fortune as his\nfellows, for he was flung so violently to the earth that he lay long out\nof his senses.\n\"Whoever he be,\" cried Gawaine, \"he has overturned my comrades, and I\nmust encounter him. Defend yourself, sir knight.\"\nThen the two knights rode fiercely together, each striking the other in\nthe midst of the shield. But Gawaine's spear broke, while that of\nLancelot held good, and struck so strong a blow that the horse was\noverturned, Gawaine barely escaping being crushed beneath him.\nThis done, Lancelot rode slowly on, smiling to himself, and saying, \"God\ngive joy to the man that made this spear, for a better no knight ever\nhandled.\"\n\"What say you of this knight, who with one spear has felled us all?\"\nsaid Gawaine. \"To my thinking, it is Lancelot or the devil. He rides\nlike Lancelot.\"\n\"We shall find out in good time,\" said the others; \"but he has left us\nsore bodies and sick hearts, and our poor horses are the worse for the\ntrial.\"\nLancelot rode on through the forest, thinking quietly to himself of the\nsurprise he had given to his late assailants, and of the sport it would\nthereafter make in the court. But new and stranger adventures awaited\nhim, for he was now coming into a land of enchantment, where more than\nmere strength would be needed.\nWhat he saw, after he had ridden long and far, was a black brachet,\nwhich was coursing as if in the track of a hurt deer; but he quickly\nperceived that the dog was upon a trail of fresh blood. He followed the\nbrachet, which looked behind as it ran, as if with desire to lead him\non. In time he saw before him an old manor, over whose bridge ran the\ndog. When Lancelot had ridden over the bridge, that shook beneath his\nhoofs as if it was ready to fall, he came into a great hall, where lay a\ndead knight whose wounds the dog was licking. As he stood there a lady\nrushed weeping from a chamber, and wrung her hands in grief as she\naccused him of having slain her lord.\n\"Madam, it was not I,\" said Lancelot. \"I never saw him till his dog led\nme here, and I am sorry enough for your misfortune.\"\n\"I should have known it could not be you,\" she said. \"I was led by my\ngrief to speak wildly. For he that killed my husband is sorely wounded\nhimself, and I can promise him this, that he will never recover. I have\nwrought him a charm that no leech's skill can overcome.\"\n\"What was your husband's name?\" asked Lancelot.\n\"Sir Gilbert,\" she replied. \"As for him that slew him, I know not his\nname.\"\n\"God send you better comfort,\" said Lancelot. \"I am sorry for your\nmisfortune.\"\nThen he rode again into the forest, and in a short space met a damsel\nwho knew him well, for his visor was up and his face shown.\n\"You are well found, my lord Lancelot,\" she said. \"I beg you of your\nknighthood to help my brother, who lies near by sorely wounded, and\nnever stops bleeding. He fought to-day with Sir Gilbert and slew him in\nfair battle, and now is dying through foul enchantment. Not far from\nhere dwells a lady sorceress, who has wrought this harm, and who told me\nto-day that my brother's wounds would never heal till I could find a\nknight who would go into the Chapel Perilous, and bring thence the sword\nof the slain knight and a piece of the bloody cloth that he is wrapped\nin. My brother will die unless his wounds are touched with that sword\nand that cloth, for nothing else on earth will stop their bleeding.\"\n\"This is a marvellous tale,\" said Lancelot. \"Who is your brother?\"\n\"His name is Meliot de Logres.\"\n\"Then he is one of my fellows of the Round Table, and I will do all I\ncan to help him. What and where the Chapel Perilous is I know not, but I\ndo not fear its perils.\"\n\"This highway will bring you to it, and at no great distance,\" she\nreplied. \"I shall here await your return. I know no knight but you who\ncan achieve this task, and truly you will find it no light one, for you\nhave enchantment and sorcery to encounter.\"\nLittle was Lancelot downcast by these words, and he rode on to the\nChapel Perilous with no dread in his bold heart. Reaching the building\nindicated, he alighted and tied his horse beside the gate. Then he\nentered the church-yard, and there he saw on the chapel front many\nshields hung upside down, some of them being well known to him.\nBut his eyes were quickly drawn from these, for suddenly there appeared\nbefore him thirty gigantic knights, all clad in jet-black armor, and\nevery man of them a foot higher than common men. All bore swords and\nshields, and as they stood there they grinned and gnashed at him with\nbaleful faces.\nDread came into Lancelot's heart on seeing this frightful throng of\nblack warriors, with their demon-like countenances. But commending his\nsoul to God, he took his sword in hand and advanced resolutely upon\nthem. Then, to his surprise and gladness, when they saw this bold\nadvance they scattered right and left before him, like dead leaves\nbefore the wind, and gave him open passage to the chapel, which he\nentered without further opposition.\nHere was no light but that of a dim lamp, and on a bier in the centre of\nthe aisle there lay a corpse that was covered with a cloth of silk. On\ncoming up, Lancelot gazed upon the face and saw that it was that of Sir\nGilbert, whose dead body he had seen but lately in the hall of the\nmanor-house.\nThen he bent over the corpse and cut away a piece of the silk, and as he\ndid so he felt the floor to sink and rock beneath him as if the earth\nhad quaked. This gave him a thrill of dread, and seizing the sword that\nlay by the side of the corpse he hastened out of the chapel.\nWhen he reached the chapel-yard the black knights thronged again in his\npathway, and cried to him with voices of thunder,--\n\"Knight, yield us that sword, or you shall die!\"\n\"Whether I live or die, it will need more than loud words to force me to\nyield it. You may fight for it if you will. And I warn you, you will\nneed to fight hard.\"\nThen, as before, they scattered before his bold advance, and left him\nfree passage. Lancelot strode resolutely on through the chapel-yard, but\nin the highway beyond he met a fair damsel, who said to him,--\n\"Sir Lancelot, you know not what risk you run. Leave that sword, or you\nwill die for it.\"\n\"I got it not so easy that I should leave it for a threat,\" he replied.\n\"You are wise,\" she answered. \"I did but test your judgment. If you had\nyielded the sword you would never have looked on Queen Guenever again.\"\n\"Then I would have been a fool indeed to leave it.\"\n\"Now, gentle knight, I have but one request to make of you ere you\ndepart. That is, that you kiss me.\"\n\"Nay,\" said Lancelot, \"that God forbid. I save my kisses till my love is\ngiven.\"\n\"Then are you beyond my power,\" she cried, with a groan of pain. \"Had\nyou kissed me your life would have ended; but now I have lost my labor,\nfor it was for you and Gawaine that I prepared this chapel with its\nenchantments. Gawaine was once in my power, and at that time he fought\nwith Sir Gilbert and struck off his left hand. As for you, I have loved\nyou these seven years. But I know that none but Guenever will ever have\nyour love, and so, as I could not have you alive, I wished to have you\ndead. If you had yielded to my wiles I should have embalmed and\npreserved your body, and kissed it daily in spite of Guenever, or any\nwoman living. Now farewell, Lancelot; I shall never look upon your face\nagain.\"\n\"I pray to Heaven you shall not. And may God preserve me from your vile\ncraft.\"\nMounting his horse, Lancelot departed. Of the lady, we are told by the\nchronicles that she died within a fortnight of pure sorrow, and that she\nwas a sorceress of high renown.\nLancelot rode on till he met the sister of the wounded knight, who\nclapped her hands and wept for joy on seeing him safely returned. Then\nshe led him to a castle near by, where Sir Meliot lay. Lancelot knew him\nat sight, though he was pale as death from loss of blood.\nOn seeing Lancelot, he fell on his knees before him, crying, in tones of\nhope,--\n\"Oh, my lord Lancelot, help me, for you alone can!\"\n\"I can and will,\" rejoined the knight, and, as he had been advised, he\ntouched his wounds with the sword and rubbed them with the bloody cloth\nhe had won.\nNo sooner was this done, than Meliot sprang to his feet a whole and\nsound man, while his heart throbbed with joy and gratefulness. And he\nand his sister entertained their noble guest with the best the castle\nafforded, doing all in their power to show their gratitude.\nCHAPTER V.\nTHE ADVENTURE OF THE FALCON.\nAfter his departure from the castle of Sir Meliot, Lancelot rode through\nmany strange regions, over marshes and highlands, through valleys and\nforests, and at length found himself in front of a handsome castle. This\nhe passed, and as he did so thought he heard two bells ring.\nThen he saw a falcon fly over his head towards a high elm, with long\ncords hanging from her feet, and as she perched in the elm these became\ncoiled round a bough, so that when she tried to fly again the lines held\nher and she hung downward by the legs.\nThen there came a lady running from the castle, who cried, as she\napproached,--\n\"Oh, Lancelot, Lancelot, as thou art the flower of knights, help me to\nget my hawk, lest my lord destroy me! The hawk escaped me, and if my\nhusband finds it gone, he is so hasty that I fear he will kill me.\"\n\"What is his name?\" asked Lancelot.\n\"His name is Phelot. He is a knight of the king of Northgalis.\"\n\"Well, fair lady, since you know my name so well, and ask me on my\nknighthood to help you, I will try to get your hawk. But I am a poor\nclimber, and the tree is high, with few boughs to help me.\"\n\"I trust you may,\" she replied, \"for my life depends on your success.\"\nThen Lancelot alighted and tied his horse to the tree, and begged the\nlady to help him remove his armor. When he was fully unarmed he climbed\nwith much difficulty into the tree, and at length succeeded in reaching\nthe hawk. He now tied the lines to a rotten branch and threw it and the\nbird down to the lady.\nBut as she picked it up with a show of joy, there suddenly came from a\ngrove an armed knight, who rode rapidly up, with his drawn sword in his\nhand.\n\"Now, Lancelot du Lake,\" he cried, \"I have you as I wanted you. Your day\nhas come.\"\nAnd he stood by the trunk of the tree, ready to slay him when he should\ndescend.\n\"What treason is this?\" demanded Lancelot. \"False woman, why have you\nled me into this?\"\n\"She did as I bade her,\" said Phelot. \"I hate you, Lancelot, and have\nlaid this trap for you. You have fought your last fight, my bold\nchampion, for you come out of that tree but to your death.\"\n\"That would be a shameful deed,\" cried Lancelot, \"for you, an armed\nknight, to slay a defenceless man through treachery.\"\n\"Help yourself the best you can,\" said Phelot; \"you get no grace from\nme.\"\n\"You will be shamed all your life by so base an act,\" cried Lancelot.\n\"If you will do no more, at least hang my sword upon a bough where I may\nget it, and then you may do your best to slay me.\"\n\"No, no,\" said Phelot. \"I know you too well for that. You get no weapon\nif I can hinder you.\"\nLancelot was now in the most desperate strait he was likely ever to\nendure. He could not stay forever in the tree, and if he should attempt\nto descend there stood that armed villain awaiting him with ready sword.\nWhat to do he knew not, but his eyes glanced warily round, till he saw\njust above him a big leafless branch, which he broke off close to the\nbody of the tree. Thus armed, he climbed down to a lower bough, and\nlooked down to note the position of the knight and his own horse.\nA quick look told him that there was still a chance for life, and with a\nnimble leap he sprang to the ground on the other side of his horse from\nthe knight.\nPhelot at once struck at him savagely with his sword, thinking to kill\nhim with the blow; but Lancelot parried it with his heavy club, and in\nreturn dealt his antagonist so fierce a blow on the head as to hurl him\nfrom his horse to the ground. Then wrenching the sword from his hand, he\nstruck off his villanous head.\n\"Alas!\" cried the lady, \"you have slain my husband!\"\n\"If I should slay you with him it would be but justice,\" said Lancelot,\n\"for you would have killed me through falsehood and treachery, and you\nhave but your deserts.\"\nThen the lady swooned away as if she would die, but Lancelot, seeing\nthat the knight's castle was so nigh, hastened to resume his armor, for\nhe knew not what other treachery might await him. Then, leaving the lady\nstill in a swoon, he mounted and rode away, thanking God that he had\ncome so well through that deadly peril.\nAs to Lancelot's other adventures at that time, they were of no great\nmoment. The chronicles tell that he saw a knight chasing a lady with\nintent to kill her, and that he rescued her. Afterwards the knight, who\nwas her husband and mad with jealousy, struck off her head in Lancelot's\npresence.\nThen when Lancelot would have slain him, he grovelled in the dirt and\nbegged for mercy so piteously, that the knight at length granted him his\nshameful life, but made him swear that he would bear the dead body on\nhis back to Queen Guenever, and tell her of his deed.\nThis he accomplished, and was ordered by the queen, as a fitting\npenance, to bear the body of his wife to the Pope of Rome and there beg\nabsolution, and never to sleep at night but with the dead body in the\nbed with him. All this the knight did, and the body was buried in Rome\nby the Pope's command. Afterwards Pedivere, the knight, repented so\ndeeply of his vile deed that he became a hermit, and was known as a man\nof holy life.\nTwo days before the feast of Pentecost, Lancelot returned to Camelot\nfrom his long journey and his many adventures. And there was much\nlaughter in the court when the knights whom he had smitten down saw him\nin Kay's armor, and knew who their antagonist had been.\n\"By my faith,\" said Kay, \"I never rode in such peace as I have done in\nLancelot's armor, for I have not found a man willing to fight with me,\nand have ruled lord of the land.\"\nThen the various knights whom Lancelot had bidden to seek the court came\nin, one by one, and all were glad to learn that it was by no common man\nthat they had been overcome. Among them came Sir Belleus, whom Lancelot\nhad wounded at the pavilion, and who at his request was made a Knight of\nthe Round Table, and Sir Meliot de Logres, whom he had rescued from the\nenchantment of the Chapel Perilous. Also the adventure of the four\nqueens was told, and how Lancelot had been delivered from the power of\nthe sorceresses, and had won the tournament for King Bagdemagus.\nAnd so at that time Lancelot had the greatest name of any knight in the\nworld, and was the most honored, by high and low alike, of all living\nchampions.\n THE ADVENTURES OF BEAUMAINS.\nCHAPTER I.\nTHE KNIGHTING OF KAY'S KITCHEN BOY.\nKing Arthur had, early in his reign, established the custom that at the\nfeast of Pentecost he would never dine until he had seen or heard of\nsome marvellous event. Through that custom many strange adventures were\nbrought to his notice. It happened on one day of Pentecost that the king\nheld his Round Table at a castle called Kinkenadon, on the borders of\nWales. On that day, a little before noon, as Gawaine looked from a\nwindow, he saw three men on horseback and a dwarf on foot approaching\nthe castle. When they came near the men alighted, and, leaving their\nhorses in care of the dwarf, they walked towards the castle-gate. One of\nthese men was very tall, being a foot and a half higher than his\ncompanions.\nOn seeing this, Gawaine went to the king and said,--\n\"Sire, I deem you can now safely go to your dinner, for I fancy we have\nan adventure at hand.\"\n[Illustration: KING ARTHUR'S ROUND TABLE, WINCHESTER CATHEDRAL.]\nThe king thereupon went to the table with his knights and the kings who\nwere guests at his court. They were but well seated when there came into\nthe hall two men, richly attired, upon whose shoulders leaned the\nfairest and handsomest young man that any there had ever seen. In body\nhe was large and tall, with broad shoulders and sturdy limbs, yet he\nmoved as if he could not bear himself erect, but needed support from his\ncomrades' shoulders.\nWhen Arthur saw this youth he bade those around him to make room, and\nthe stranger with his companions walked up to the high dais without\nspeaking.\nThen he drew himself up straight and stood erect before the king.\n\"King Arthur,\" he said, \"may God bless you and your fellowship, and,\nabove all, the fellowship of the Round Table. I am come hither to beg of\nyou three gifts, promising that they shall not be unreasonable, and that\nyou can honorably grant them without hurt or loss to yourself. The first\nI shall ask now, and the other two this day twelvemonth.\"\n\"Ask what you will,\" said Arthur. \"You shall have your gift, if it be so\neasy to grant.\"\n\"This is my first petition, that you furnish me meat and drink\nsufficient for this year, and until the time has come to ask for my\nother gifts.\"\n\"My fair son,\" said Arthur, \"I counsel you to ask more than this. If my\njudgment fail not, you are of good birth and fit for noble deeds.\"\n\"However that may be, I have asked all that I now desire.\"\n\"Well, well, you shall have meat and drink enough. I have never denied\nthat to friend or foe. But what is your name?\"\n\"Great sir, that I cannot tell you.\"\n\"There is a mystery here. A youth of so handsome face and vigorous form\nas you must be of noble parentage. But if you desire secrecy, I shall\nnot press you.\"\nThen Arthur bade Kay to take charge of the youth and see that he had the\nbest fare of the castle, and to find out if he was a lord's son, if\npossible.\n\"A churl's son, I should say,\" answered Kay, scornfully, \"and not worth\nthe cost of his meals. Had he been of gentle birth he would have asked\nfor horse and armor; but he demands that which fits his base-born\nnature. Since he has no name, I shall give him one. Let him be called\nBeaumains, or Fair Hands. I shall keep him in the kitchen, where he can\nhave fat broth every day, so that at the years end he will be fat as a\nswollen hog.\"\nThen the two men departed and left the youth with Kay, who continued to\nscorn and mock him.\nGawaine and Lancelot were angry at this, and bade Kay to cease his\nmockery, saying that they were sure the youth would prove of merit.\n\"Never will he,\" said Kay. \"He has asked as his nature bade him.\"\n\"Beware,\" said Lancelot. \"This is not the first youth you have given a\nname in mockery, which turned on yourself at last.\"\n\"I do not fear that of this fellow. I wager that he has been brought up\nin some abbey, and came hither because good eating failed him there.\"\nKay then bade him get a place and sit down to his meal, and Beaumains\nsought a place at the hall-door among boys and menials.\nGawaine and Lancelot thereupon asked him to come to their chambers,\nwhere he should be well fed and lodged; but he refused, saying that he\nwould do only as Kay commanded, since the king had so bidden.\nIt thus came about that Beaumains ate in the kitchen among the menials,\nand slept in sorry quarters. And during the whole year he was always\nmeek and mild, and gave no cause for displeasure to man or child.\nBut whenever there was jousting of knights he was always present to see,\nand seemed in this sport to take great delight. And Gawaine and\nLancelot, who felt sure that the youth but bided his time, gave him\nclothes and what money he needed. Also, wherever there were sports of\nskill or strength he was sure to be on hand, and in throwing the bar or\nstone he surpassed all contestants by two yards.\n\"How like you my boy of the kitchen?\" Kay would say, on seeing these\nfeats. \"Fat broth is good for the muscles.\"\nAnd so the year passed on till the festival of Whitsuntide came again.\nThe court was now at Carlion, where royal feasts were held. But the\nking, as was his custom, refused to eat until he should hear of some\nstrange adventure.\nWhile he thus waited a damsel came into the hall and saluted the king,\nand begged aid and succor of him.\n\"For whom?\" asked Arthur. \"Of what do you complain?\"\n\"Sire,\" she replied, \"I serve a lady of great worth and merit, who is\nbesieged in her castle by a tyrant, and dares not leave her gates for\nfear of him. I pray you send with me some knight to succor her.\"\n\"Who is your lady, and where does she dwell? And what is the name of the\nman who besieges her?\"\n\"Her name I must not now tell. I shall only say that she has wide lands\nand is a noble lady. As for the tyrant that distresses her, he is called\nthe Red Knight of the Red Lawns.\"\n\"I know him not,\" said the king.\n\"I know him well,\" said Gawaine. \"Men say he has seven men's strength. I\nescaped him once barely with life.\"\n\"Fair damsel,\" said the king, \"there are knights here who would do their\nutmost to rescue your lady. But if you will not tell me her name nor\nwhere she lives, none of them shall go with my consent.\"\n\"Then I must seek further,\" said the damsel, \"for that I am forbidden to\ntell.\"\nAt this moment Beaumains came to the king, and said,--\n\"Royal sir, I have been twelve months in your kitchen, and have had all\nyou promised me; now I desire to ask for my other two gifts.\"\n\"Ask, if you will. I shall keep to my word.\"\n\"This, then, is what I request. First, that you send me with the damsel,\nfor this adventure belongs to me.\"\n\"You shall have it,\" said the king.\n\"My third request is that you shall bid Lancelot du Lake make me a\nknight, for he is the only man in your court from whom I will take that\nhonor. When I am gone let him ride after me, and dub me knight when I\nrequire it of him.\"\n\"I grant your wish,\" said the king. \"All shall be done as you desire.\"\n\"Fie on you all!\" cried the damsel. \"I came here for a knight, and you\noffer me a kitchen scullion. Is this King Arthur's way of rescuing a\nlady in distress? If so, I want none of it, and will seek my knight\nelsewhere.\"\nShe left the court, red with anger, mounted her horse, and rode away.\nShe had hardly gone when a page of the court came to Beaumains and told\nhim that his dwarf was without, with a noble horse and a rich suit of\narmor, and all other necessaries of the best.\nAt this all the court marvelled, for they could not imagine who had sent\nall this rich gear to a kitchen menial. But when Beaumains was armed,\nthere were none in the court who presented a more manly aspect than he.\nHe took courteous leave of the king, and of Gawaine and Lancelot,\npraying the latter that he would soon ride after him. This done, he\nmounted his horse and pursued the damsel.\nBut those who observed him noticed that, while he was well horsed and\nhad trappings of cloth of gold, he bore neither shield nor spear. Among\nthose who watched him was Kay, who said,--\n\"Yonder goes my kitchen drudge, as fine a knight as the best of us, if a\nbrave show were all that a knight needed. I have a mind to ride after\nhim, to let him know that I am still his superior.\"\n\"You had better let him alone,\" said Gawaine. \"You may find more than\nyou bargain for.\"\nBut Kay armed himself and rode after Beaumains, whom he overtook just as\nhe came up with the damsel.\n\"Hold there, Beaumains,\" he cried, in mockery. \"Do you not know me?\"\n\"Yes,\" answered the young man. \"I know you for an ungentle knight of the\ncourt, who has put much despite upon me. It is my turn to repay you for\nyour insults; so, sirrah, defend yourself.\"\nKay thereupon put his spear in rest and rode upon Beaumains, who awaited\nhim sword in hand. When they came together, Beaumains, with a skilful\nparry, turned aside the spear, and then with a vigorous thrust wounded\nKay in the side, so that he fell from his horse like a dead man. This\ndone, he dismounted and took Kay's shield and spear, and bade his dwarf\ntake his horse.\nAll this was observed by the damsel, and also by Lancelot, who had\nfollowed closely upon the track of the seneschal.\n\"Now, Sir Lancelot, I am ready to accept your offer to knight me,\" said\nBeaumains, \"but, first, I would prove myself worthy of the honor, and so\nwill joust with you, if you consent.\"\n\"That I shall certainly not decline,\" said Lancelot, counting upon an\neasy victory.\nBut when the knight and the youth rode against each other both were\nhurled from their horses to the earth, and sorely bruised. But Beaumains\nwas entangled in his harness, and Lancelot helped him from his horse.\nThen Beaumains flung aside his shield and proffered to fight Lancelot\non foot, to which the latter consented. For an hour they fought,\nBeaumains showing such strength that Lancelot marvelled at it, and\nesteemed him more a giant than a knight. He began, indeed, to fear that\nhe might be vanquished in the end, and at length cried out,--\n\"Beaumains, you fight too hard, considering that there is no quarrel\nbetween us. I fancy you need no further proof.\"\n\"That is true enough, my lord,\" said Beaumains. \"But it did me good to\nfeel your might. As for my own strength, I hardly know it yet.\"\n\"It is as much as I want to deal with,\" said Lancelot. \"I had to do my\nbest to save my honor.\"\n\"Then you think I may prove myself a worthy knight?\"\n\"I warrant you that, if you do as well as you have done to-day.\"\n\"I pray you, then, to invest me with the order of knighthood.\"\n\"That shall I willingly do. But you must first tell me your name, and\nthat of your father.\"\n\"You will keep my secret?\"\n\"I promise you that on my faith, until you are ready to reveal it\nyourself.\"\n\"Then, sir, my name is Gareth, and I am Gawaine's brother, though he\nknows it not. I was but a child when he became a knight, but King Lot\nwas my father.\"\n\"I am very glad to hear that,\" said Lancelot. \"I knew you were of gentle\nblood, and came to court for something else than meat and drink.\"\nThen Gareth kneeled before Lancelot, who made him a knight, and bade\nhim be a good and worthy one, and to honor his birth by his deeds.\nLancelot then left him and returned to Kay, who lay half dead in the\nroad. He had him borne back to the court, but his wound proved long in\nhealing, and he found himself the scorn of the court for his\ndiscourteous treatment of the youth who had been put in his care.\nCHAPTER II.\nTHE BLACK, THE GREEN, AND THE RED KNIGHTS.\nWhen Beaumains overtook the damsel, he received from her but a sorry\ngreeting.\n\"How dare you follow me?\" she said. \"You smell too much of the kitchen\nfor my liking. Your clothes are foul with grease and tallow, and I\nmarvel much that King Arthur made a knight of such a sorry rogue. As for\nyonder knight whom you wounded, there is no credit in that, for it was\ndone by treachery and cowardice, not by skill and valor. I know well why\nKay named you Beaumains, for you are but a lubber and turner of spits,\nand a washer of soiled dishes.\"\n\"Say what you will, damsel,\" answered Beaumains, \"you shall not drive me\naway. King Arthur chose me to achieve your adventure, and I shall\nperform it or die.\"\n\"Fie on you, kitchen knave! you would not dare, for all the broth you\never supped, to look the red knight in the face.\"\n\"Would I not? That is to be seen.\"\nAs they thus angrily debated, there came to them a man flying at full\nspeed.\n\"Help me, sir knight!\" he cried. \"Six thieves have taken my lord and\nbound him, and I fear they will slay him if he be not rescued.\"\n\"Lead me to him,\" said Beaumains.\nHe followed the man to a neighboring glade, where he saw a knight bound\nand prostrate, surrounded by six sorry-looking villains. At sight of\nthis the heart of Beaumains leaped with anger. With a ringing battle-cry\nhe rushed upon the knaves, and with three vigorous strokes laid three of\nthem dead upon the earth. The others fled, but he followed at full\nspeed, and quickly overtook them. Then they turned and assailed him\nfiercely, but after a short fight he slew them all. He then rode back to\nthe knight, whom his man had unbound.\nThe rescued knight thanked him warmly, and begged him to ride with him\nto his castle, where he would reward him for his great service. But\nBeaumains answered that he was upon a quest which could not be left, and\nas for reward he would leave that to God.\nThen he turned and rode back to the damsel, who greeted him with the\nsame contempt as before, bidding him ride farther from her, as she could\nnot bear the smell of the kitchen.\n\"Do you fancy that I esteem you any the nobler for having killed a few\nchurls? You shall see a sight yet, sir knave, that will make you turn\nyour back, and that quickly.\"\nNot much farther had they ridden when they were overtaken by the rescued\nknight, who begged them, as it was near night, and his castle close at\nhand, to spend the night there. The damsel agreed to this, and they rode\ntogether to the castle, where they were well entertained.\nBut at supper the knight set Beaumains before the damsel.\n\"Fie, fie! sir knight,\" she exclaimed. \"This is discourteous, to seat a\nkitchen page before a lady of high birth. This fellow is more used to\ncarve swine than to sit at lords' tables.\"\nTo this Beaumains made no answer, but the knight was ashamed, and\nwithdrew with his guest to a side table, leaving her to the honor of the\nhigh table alone. When morning came they thanked the knight for their\nentertainment, and rode refreshed away.\nOther adventures were ready for Beaumains before they had ridden far,\nfor they soon found themselves at the side of a river that had but a\nsingle ford, and on the opposite side stood two knights, ready to\ndispute the passage with any who should attempt it.\n\"What say you to this?\" asked the damsel. \"Will you face yonder knights,\nor turn back?\"\n\"I shall not turn; nor would I, if there were six more of them. You\nshall see that I can deal with knights as well as knaves.\"\nThen he rode into the water, in the midst of which he met one of the\nknights, their spears breaking as they came fiercely together. They then\ndrew their swords and began a fierce fight in the centre of the ford.\nBut at last Beaumains dealt his opponent a blow on the helm that stunned\nhim, and hurled him from his horse into the water, where he was quickly\ndrowned.\nBeaumains now spurred forward to the land, where the other knight rushed\nupon him as he touched shore, breaking his spear, but not shaking the\nyoung champion in his seat. Then they went at it with sword and shield,\nand with the same fortune as before, for Beaumains quickly cleaved the\nhelmet and brain of his opponent, and left him dead on the ground.\nHe now turned and called proudly to the damsel, bidding her to ride\nforward, as he had cleared the ford for her passage.\n\"Alas!\" she cried, \"that a kitchen page should have the fortune to kill\ntwo valiant knights. You fancy you have done a doughty deed, but I deny\nit. The first knight was drowned through his horse stumbling, and the\nother one you struck a foul blow from behind. Never brag of this, for I\ncan attest it was not honestly done.\"\n\"You may say what you will,\" rejoined Beaumains. \"Whoever seeks to\nhinder me shall make way or kill me, for nothing less than death shall\nstop me on my quest to aid your lady.\"\n\"You can boast loudly before a woman. Wait till you meet the knights I\ntake you to, and you will be taught another lesson.\"\n\"Fair damsel, if you will but give me courteous language, I shall ask no\nmore. As for the knights you speak of, let come what will come.\"\n\"I say this for your own good; for if you continue to follow me you\nwill be slain. What you have done is by misadventure, not by prowess. If\nyou are wise, you will turn back with what little honor you may claim.\"\n\"Say what you choose, damsel, but wherever you go there go I, and it\nwill take more than insulting words to turn me back.\"\nSo they rode on till evening, she continuing to chide and berate him,\nand bid him leave her, and he answering meekly, but with no abatement of\nhis resolution.\nFinally a strange sight came to them. For before them they saw a black\nlawn, in whose midst grew a black hawthorn. On one side of this hung a\nblack banner, and on the other a black shield, while near by stood a\nblack spear of great size, and a massive black horse covered with silk.\nNear by was a knight armed in black armor, who was known as the Knight\nof the Black Lawn.\nThe damsel, on seeing this knight, bade Beaumains flee down the valley,\ntelling him that he might still escape, for the knight's horse was not\nsaddled.\n\"Gramercy,\" said Beaumains, \"will you always take me for a coward? I fly\nnot from one man, though he be as black as ten ravens.\"\nThe black knight, seeing them approach, thus addressed the damsel,--\n\"So, my lady, you are here again! Have you brought this knight from King\nArthur's court to be your champion?\"\n\"Hardly so, fair sir. This is but a kitchen knave, who was fed in\nArthur's court through charity, and has followed me as a cur follows\nhis master.\"\n\"Why comes he then in knightly guise? And what do you in such foul\ncompany?\"\n\"I cannot get rid of him, sir. He rides with me in my despite. I bring\nhim here that you may rid me of the unhappy knave. Through mishap and\ntreachery he killed two knights at the river ford, and did other deeds\nthat might have been of worth were they fairly done. Yet he is but a\nsorry poltroon.\"\n\"I am surprised,\" said the black knight, \"that any man of worth will\nfight with him.\"\n\"They knew him not,\" she answered, \"and fancy him of some credit from\nhis riding with me, and from his brave show of armor.\"\n\"That may be,\" said the black knight. \"Yet, knave or not, he looks like\na strong fellow. This much I shall do to relieve you of him. I shall put\nhim on foot, and take from him his horse and armor. It would be a shame\nto do him more harm.\"\nBeaumains had heard all this, biting his lips in anger. He now\nscornfully replied,--\n\"Sir knight, you are liberal in disposing of my horse and armor, but\nbeware you do not pay a fair price for them. Whether you like it or not,\nthis lawn I shall pass, and you will get no horse or armor of mine till\nyou win them in open fight. Let me see if you can do it.\"\n\"Say you so? You shall yield me this lady, or pay dearly for it; for it\ndoes not beseem a kitchen page to ride with a lady of high degree.\"\n\"If you want her, you must win her,\" said Beaumains, \"and much comfort\nmay you get from her tongue. As for me, I am a gentleman born, and of\nhigher birth than you; and will prove this on your body if you deny it.\"\nThen in hot anger they rode apart, and came together with a sound of\nthunder. The spear of the black knight broke, but Beaumains thrust him\nthrough the side, the spear breaking in his body, and leaving the\ntruncheon in his flesh. Yet, despite his wound, he drew his sword and\nstruck with strength and fury at his antagonist. But the fight lasted\nnot long, for the black knight, faint with loss of blood, fell from his\nhorse in a swoon, and quickly died.\nThen Beaumains, seeing that the horse and armor were better than his\nown, dismounted and put on the dead knight's armor. Now, mounting the\nsable horse, he rode after the damsel. On coming up she greeted him as\nbefore.\n\"Away, knave, the smell of thy clothes displeases me. And what a pity it\nis that such as you should by mishap slay so good a knight! But you will\nbe quickly repaid, unless you fly, for there is a knight hereby who is\ndouble your match.\"\n\"I may be beaten or slain, fair damsel,\" said Beaumains; \"but you cannot\ndrive me off by foul words, or by talking of knights who will beat or\nkill me. Somehow I ride on and leave your knights on the ground. You\nwould do well to hold your peace, for I shall follow you, whatever may\nhappen, unless I be truly beaten or slain.\"\nSo they rode on, Beaumains in silence, but the damsel still at times\nreviling, till they saw approaching them a knight who was all in green,\nboth horse and harness. As he came nigh, he asked the damsel,--\n\"Is that my brother, the black knight, who rides with you?\"\n\"No,\" she replied. \"Your brother is dead. This unhappy kitchen knave has\nslain him through mishap.\"\n\"Alas!\" cried the green knight, \"has so noble a warrior as he been slain\nby a knave! Traitor, you shall die for your deed!\"\n\"I defy you,\" said Beaumains. \"I slew him knightly and not shamefully,\nand am ready to answer to you with sword and spear.\"\nThen the knight took a green horn from his saddle-bow, and blew on it\nthree warlike notes. Immediately two damsels appeared, who aided him in\narming. This done, he mounted his steed, took from their hands a green\nspear and green shield, and stationed himself opposite Beaumains.\nSetting spurs to their horses they rode furiously together, both\nbreaking their spears, but keeping their seats. Then they attacked each\nother, sword in hand, and cut and slashed with knightly vigor. At\nlength, in a sudden wheel, Beaumains's horse struck that of the green\nknight on the side and overturned it, the knight having to leap quickly\nto escape being overthrown.\nWhen Beaumains saw this, he also sprang to the earth and met his\nantagonist on foot. Here they fought for a long time, till both had lost\nmuch blood.\n\"You should be ashamed to stand so long fighting with a kitchen knave,\"\ncried the damsel at last to the green knight. \"Who made you knight, that\nyou let such a lad match you, as the weed overgrows the corn?\"\nHer words of scorn so angered the green knight that he struck a wrathful\nblow at Beaumains, which cut deeply into his shield. Beaumains, roused\nby this and by the damsel's language, struck back with such might on the\nhelm of his foe as to hurl him to his knees. Then, seizing him, he flung\nhim to the ground, and towered above him with upraised sword.\n\"I yield me!\" cried the knight. \"Slay me not, I beg of you.\"\n\"You shall die,\" answered Beaumains, \"unless this damsel pray me to\nspare your life,\" and he unlaced his helm, as with intent to slay him.\n\"Pray you to save his life!\" cried the damsel, in scorn. \"I shall never\nso demean myself to a page of the kitchen.\"\n\"Then he shall die.\"\n\"Slay him, if you will. Ask me not to beg for his life.\"\n\"Alas!\" said the green knight, \"you would not let me die when you can\nsave my life with a word? Fair sir, spare me, and I will forgive you my\nbrother's death, and become your man, with thirty knights who are at my\ncommand.\"\n\"In the fiend's name!\" cried the damsel, \"shall such a knave have\nservice of thee and thirty knights?\"\n\"All this avails nothing,\" said Beaumains. \"You shall have your life\nonly at this damsel's request,\" and he made a show as if he would slay\nhim.\n\"Let him be, knave,\" said the damsel. \"Slay him not, or you shall repent\nit.\"\n\"Damsel,\" said Beaumains, \"your request is to me a command and a\npleasure. His life shall be spared, since you ask it. Sir knight of the\ngreen array, I release you at the damsel's request, for I am bound by\nher wish, and will do all that she commands.\"\nThen the green knight kneeled down and did homage with his sword.\n\"I am sorry, sir knight, for your mishap, and for your brother's death,\"\nsaid the damsel. \"I had great need of your help, for I dread the passage\nof this forest.\"\n\"You need not,\" he replied. \"To-night you shall lodge at my castle, and\nto-morrow I will aid you to pass the forest.\"\nSo they rode to his manor, which was not far distant. Here it happened\nas it had on the evening before, for the damsel reviled Beaumains, and\nwould not listen to his sitting at the same table with her.\n\"Why deal you such despite to this noble warrior?\" said the green\nknight. \"You are wrong, for he will do you good service, and whatever he\ndeclares himself to be, I warrant in the end you will find him to come\nof right noble blood.\"\n\"You say far more of him than he deserves,\" she replied. \"I know him too\nwell.\"\n\"And so do I, for he is the best champion I ever found; and I have\nfought in my day with many worthy knights.\"\nThat night, when they went to rest, the green knight set a guard over\nBeaumains's chamber, for he feared some harm to him from the bitter\nscorn and hatred of the damsel. In the morning he rode with them through\nthe forest, and at parting said,--\n\"My lord Beaumains, I and my knights shall always be at your summons,\nearly or late, or whatever be the service you demand.\"\n\"That is well said. When I require your service it will be to yield\nyourself and your knights to King Arthur.\"\n\"If you bid us do so, we shall be ready at all times.\"\n\"Fie on you!\" said the damsel. \"It shames me to see good knights\nobedient to a kitchen knave.\"\nAfter they had parted she turned to Beaumains, and said, despitefully,--\n\"Why wilt thou follow me, lackey of the kitchen? Cast away thy spear and\nshield and fly while you may, for that is at hand which you will not\neasily escape. Were you Lancelot himself, or any knight of renown, you\nwould not lightly venture on a pass just in advance of us, called the\npass perilous.\"\n\"Damsel,\" said Beaumains, \"he who is afraid let him flee. It would be a\nshame for me to turn back, after having ridden so far with you.\"\n\"You soon shall, whether it be to your liking or not,\" replied the\ndamsel, scornfully.\nWhat the damsel meant quickly appeared, for in a little time they came\nin sight of a tower which was white as snow in hue, and with every\nappliance for defence. Over the gateway hung fifty shields of varied\ncolors, and in front spread a level meadow. On this meadow were\nscaffolds and pavilions, and many knights were there, for there was to\nbe a tournament on the morrow.\nThe lord of the castle was at a window, and as he looked upon the\ntournament field he saw approaching a damsel, a dwarf, and a knight\narmed at all points.\n\"A knight-errant, as I live!\" said the lord. \"By my faith, I shall joust\nwith him, and get myself in train for the tournament.\"\nHe hastily armed and rode from the gates. What Beaumains saw was a\nknight all in red, his horse, harness, shield, spear, and armor alike\nbeing of this blood-like color. The red knight was, indeed, brother to\nthose whom Beaumains had lately fought, and on seeing the black array of\nthe youth, he cried,--\n\"Brother, is it you? What do you in these marshes?\"\n\"No, no, it is not he,\" said the damsel, \"but a kitchen knave who has\nbeen brought up on alms in Arthur's court.\"\n\"Then how got he that armor?\"\n\"He has slain your brother, the black knight, and taken his horse and\narms. He has also overcome your brother, the green knight. I hope you\nmay revenge your brothers on him, for I see no other way of getting rid\nof him.\"\n\"I will try,\" said the red knight, grimly. \"Sir knight, take your place\nfor a joust.\"\nBeaumains, who had not yet spoken, rode to a proper distance, and then\nthe two knights rushed together with such even force that both horses\nfell to the ground, the riders nimbly leaping from them.\nThen with sword and shield they fought like wild boars for the space of\ntwo hours, advancing, retreating, feigning, striking, now here, now\nthere, till both were well weary of the fray. But the damsel, who looked\non, now cried loudly to the red knight,--\n\"Alas, noble sir, will you let a kitchen knave thus endure your might,\nafter all the honor you have won from worthy champions?\"\nThen the red knight flamed with wrath, and attacked Beaumains with such\nfury that he wounded him so that the blood flowed in a stream to the\nground. Yet the young knight held his own bravely, giving stroke for\nstroke, and by a final blow hurled his antagonist to the earth. He had\nraised his sword to slay him, when the red knight craved mercy,\nsaying,--\n\"Noble, sir, you have me at advantage, but I pray you not to slay me. I\nyield me with the fifty knights at my command. And I forgive you all you\nhave done to my brothers.\"\n\"That will not suffice,\" said Beaumains. \"You must die, unless the\ndamsel shall pray me to spare your life.\" And he raised his sword as if\nfor the fatal blow.\n\"Let him live, then, Beaumains. He is a noble knight, and it is only by\na chance blow that you have overcome him.\"\n\"It is enough that you ask it,\" said Beaumains. \"Rise, sir knight, and\nthank this damsel for your life.\"\nThe red knight did so, and then prayed that they would enter his castle\nand spend the night there. To this they consented, but as they sat at\nsupper the damsel continued to berate her champion, in such language\nthat their host marvelled at the meekness of the knight.\nIn the morning the red knight came to Beaumains with his followers, and\nproffered to him his homage and fealty at all times.\n\"I thank you,\" said Beaumains, \"but all I ask is, that when I demand it\nyou shall go to Arthur's court, and yield yourself as his knight.\"\n\"I and my fellowship will ever be ready at your summons,\" replied the\nred knight.\nThen Beaumains and the damsel resumed their journey, while she, as if in\na fury of spite, berated him more vilely than ever before.\n\"Fair lady,\" he said, with all meekness, \"you are discourteous to revile\nme as you do. What would you have of me? The knights that you have\nthreatened me with are all dead or my vassals. When you see me beaten,\nthen you may bid me go in shame and I will obey, but till then I will\nnot leave you. I were worse than a fool to be driven off by insulting\nwords when I am daily winning honor.\"\n\"You shall soon meet a knight who will test your boasted strength. So\nfar you have fought with boys. Now you have a man who would try Arthur's\nself.\"\n\"Let him come,\" said Beaumains. \"The better a man he is, the more honor\nshall I gain from a joust with him.\"\nCHAPTER III.\nTHE RED KNIGHT OF THE RED LAWNS.\nBeaumains rode forward with the damsel till it was close upon the hour\nof noon, when he saw that they were approaching a rich and fair city,\nwell walled, and with many noble buildings.\nBetween them and the city extended a new-mown meadow, a mile and a half\nin width, on which were placed many handsome pavilions.\n\"These pavilions belong to the lord who owns that city,\" said the\ndamsel. \"It is his custom, during fair weather, to joust and tourney in\nthis meadow. He has around him five hundred knights and gentlemen of\narms, and they have knightly games of all sorts.\"\n\"I shall be glad to see that worthy lord,\" said Beaumains.\n\"That you shall, and very soon.\"\nShe rode on till she came in sight of the lord's pavilion.\n\"Look yonder,\" she said. \"That rich pavilion, of the color of India, is\nhis. All about him, men and women, and horse-trappings, shields, and\nspears, are of the same rare color. His name is Sir Persant of India,\nand you will find him the lordliest knight you ever saw.\"\n\"Be he never so stout a knight,\" answered Beaumains, \"I shall abide in\nthis field till I see him behind his shield.\"\n\"That is a fool's talk,\" she replied. \"If you were a wise man, you\nwould fly.\"\n\"Why should I?\" rejoined Beaumains. \"If he be as noble a knight as you\nsay, he will meet me alone; not with all his men. And if there come but\none at a time I shall not fail to face them while life lasts.\"\n\"That is a proud boast for a greasy kitchen lout,\" she answered.\n\"Let him come and do his worst,\" said Beaumains. \"I would rather fight\nhim five times over than endure your insults. You are greatly to blame\nto treat me so vilely.\"\n\"Sir,\" she replied, with a sudden change of tone, \"I marvel greatly who\nyou are, and of what kindred you come. This I will admit, that you have\nperformed as boldly as you have promised. But you and your horse have\nhad great labor, and I fear we have been too long on the road. The place\nwe seek is but seven miles away, and we have passed all points of peril\nexcept this. I dread, therefore, that you may receive some hurt from\nthis strong knight that will unfit you for the task before you. For\nPersant, strong as he is, is no match for the knight who besieges my\nlady, and I would have you save your strength for the work you have\nundertaken.\"\n\"Be that as it may,\" said Beaumains, \"I have come so near the knight\nthat I cannot withdraw without shame. I hope, with God's aid, to become\nhis master within two hours, and then we can reach your lady's castle\nbefore the day ends.\"\n\"Much I marvel,\" cried the damsel, \"what manner of man you are. You must\nbe of noble blood, for no woman ever before treated a knight so\nshamefully as I have you, and you have ever borne it courteously and\nmeekly. Such patience could never come but from gentle blood.\"\n\"A knight who cannot bear a woman's words had better doff his armor,\"\nanswered Beaumains. \"Do not think that I heeded not your words. But the\nanger they gave me was the worse for my adversaries, and you only aided\nto make me prove myself a man of worth and honor. If I had meat in\nArthur's kitchen, what odds? I could have had enough of it in many a\nplace. I did it but to prove who were worthy to be my friends, and that\nI will in time make known. Whether I be a gentleman born or not, I have\ndone you a gentleman's service, and may do better before we part.\"\n\"That you have, fair Beaumains,\" she said. \"I ask your forgiveness for\nall I have said or done.\"\n\"I forgive you with all my heart,\" he replied. \"It pleases me so to be\nwith you that I have found joy even in your evil words. And now that you\nare pleased to speak courteously to me, it seems to me that I am stout\nat heart enough to meet any knight living.\"\nAs to the battle that followed between Beaumains and Persant, it began\nand ended much like those that we have related, Persant in the end being\novercome, and gaining his life at the lady's request. He yielded himself\nand a hundred knights to be at Beaumains's command, and invited the\ntravellers to his pavilion, where they were feasted nobly.\nIn the morning Beaumains and the damsel after breakfasting, prepared to\ncontinue their journey.\n\"Whither do you lead this knight?\" asked Persant of the damsel.\n\"Sir knight,\" she replied, \"he is going to the aid of my sister, who is\nbesieged in the Castle Dangerous.\"\n\"Ah!\" cried Persant, \"then he will have to do with the Knight of the Red\nLawns, a man without mercy, and with the strength of seven men. I fear\nyou take too perilous a task, fair sir. This villain has done great\nwrong to the lady of the castle, Dame Lioness. I think, fair damsel, you\nare her sister, Linet?\"\n\"That is my name,\" replied the damsel.\n\"This I may say,\" rejoined Persant: \"the Knight of the Red Lawns would\nhave had the castle long ago, but it is his purpose to draw to the\nrescue Lancelot, Gawaine, Tristram, or Lamorak, whom he is eager to\nmatch his might against.\"\n\"My Lord Persant of India,\" said Linet, \"will you not make this\ngentleman a knight before he meets this dread warrior?\"\n\"With all my heart,\" answered Persant.\n\"I thank you for your good will,\" said Beaumains, \"but I have been\nalready knighted, and that by the hand of Sir Lancelot.\"\n\"You could have had the honor from no more renowned knight,\" answered\nPersant. \"He, Tristram, and Lamorak now bear the meed of highest renown,\nand if you fairly match the red knight you may claim to make a fourth in\nthe world's best champions.\"\n\"I shall ever do my best,\" answered Beaumains. \"This I may tell you: I\nam of noble birth. If you and the damsel will keep my secret I will tell\nit you.\"\n\"We shall not breathe it except with your permission,\" they replied.\n\"Then I will acknowledge that my name is Gareth of Orkney, that King Lot\nwas my father, and that I am a nephew of King Arthur, and brother to\nGawaine, Gaheris, and Agravaine. Yet none of these know who I am, for\nthey left my father's castle while I was but a child.\"\nWhile they were thus taking leave, Beaumains's dwarf had ridden ahead to\nthe besieged castle, where he saw the Lady Lioness, and told her of the\nchampion her sister was bringing, and what deeds he had done.\n\"I am glad enough of these tidings,\" said the lady. \"There is a\nhermitage of mine near by, where I would have you go, and take thither\ntwo silver flagons of wine, of two gallons each; also bread, baked\nvenison, and fowls. I give you also a rich cup of gold for the knight's\nuse. Then go to my sister, and bid her present my thanks to the knight,\nand pray him to eat and drink, that he may be strong for the great task\nhe undertakes. Tell him I thank him for his courtesy and goodness, and\nthat he whom he is to meet has none of these qualities, but strong and\nbold as he is, cares for nothing but murder.\"\nThis message the dwarf brought back, and led the knight and damsel to\nthe hermitage, where they rested and feasted on the rich food provided.\nThey spent the night there, and in the morning heard mass and broke\ntheir fast. Then they mounted and rode towards the besieged castle.\nTheir journey soon brought them to a plain, where they saw many tents\nand pavilions, and a castle in the distance. And there was a great noise\nand much smoke, as from a large encampment. As they came nearer the\ncastle Beaumains saw before him a number of great trees, and from these\nhung by the neck armed knights, with their shields and swords, and gilt\nspurs on their heels. Of these there were in all nearly forty.\n\"What means this sorrowful sight?\" asked Beaumains, with a look of deep\nconcern.\n\"Do not be depressed by what you see,\" said Linet. \"You must keep in\nspirit, or it will be the worse for you and us all. These knights came\nhere to the rescue of my sister, and the red knight, when he had\novercome them, put them to this shameful death, without mercy or pity.\nHe will serve you in the same way if he should vanquish you.\"\n\"Jesu defend me from such a shameful death and disgrace!\" cried\nBeaumains. \"If I must die, I hope to be slain in open battle.\"\n\"It would be better, indeed. But trust not to his courtesy, for thus he\ntreats all.\"\n\"It is a marvel that so vile a murderer has been left to live so long. I\nshall do my best to end his career of crime.\"\nThen they rode to the castle, and found it surrounded with high and\nstrong walls, with double ditches, and lofty towers within. Near the\nwalls were lodged many lords of the besieging army, and there was great\nsound of minstrelsy and merry-making. On the opposite side of the castle\nwas the sea, and here vessels rode the waves and the cries of mariners\nwere heard.\nNear where they stood was a lofty sycamore-tree, and on its trunk hung a\nmighty horn made from an elephant's tusk. This the Knight of the Red\nLawns had hung there, in order that any errant knight, who wished to\nbattle for the castle, might summons him to the fray.\n\"But let me warn you,\" said Linet, \"not to blow it till noon. For it is\nnow nearly day, and men say that his strength increases till the\nnoontide hour. To blow it now would double your peril.\"\n\"Do not advise me thus, fair damsel,\" said Beaumains. \"I shall meet him\nat his highest might, and win worshipfully or die knightly in the field.\nIt must be man to man and might to might.\"\nTherewith he spurred his horse to the sycamore, and, taking the horn in\nhand, blew with it such a blast that castle and camp rang with the\nsound.\nAt the mighty blast knights leaped from their tents and pavilions, and\nthose in the castle looked from walls and windows, to see what manner of\nman was this that blew so lustily. But the Red Knight of the Red Lawns\narmed in all haste, for he had already been told by the dwarf of the\napproach of this champion. He was all blood-red in hue, armor, shield,\nand spurs. An earl buckled on his helm, and they then brought him a red\nsteed and a red spear, and he rode into a little vale near the castle,\nso that all within and without the castle might behold the battle.\n\"Look you be light and glad,\" said Linet to the knight, \"for yonder is\nyour deadly enemy, and at yonder window is my sister, Dame Lioness.\"\n\"Where?\" asked Beaumains.\n\"Yonder,\" she said, pointing.\n\"I see her,\" said Beaumains. \"And from here she seems the fairest lady I\never looked upon. I ask no better quarrel than to fight for her, and\nwish no better fate than to greet her as my lady,\" and his face grew\nglad as he looked up to the window.\nAs he did so the Lady Lioness made a grateful courtesy to him, bending\nto the earth and holding up her hands. This courtesy was returned by\nBeaumains; but now the Knight of the Red Lawns rode forward.\n\"Leave your looking, sir knight,\" he said. \"Or look this way, for I warn\nyou that she is my lady, and I have done many battles for her.\"\n\"You waste your time, then, it seems to me, for she wants none of your\nlove. And to waste love on those who want it not is but folly. If I\nthought she would not thank me for it, I would think twice before doing\nbattle for her. But she plainly wants not you, and I will tell you this:\nI love her, and will rescue her or die.\"\n\"Say you so? The knights who hang yonder might give you warning.\"\n\"You shame yourself and knighthood by such an evil custom,\" said\nBeaumains, hotly. \"How can any lady love such a man as you? That\nshameful sight gives me more courage than fear, for I am nerved now to\nrevenge those knights as well as to rescue yonder lady.\"\n\"Make ready,\" cried the red knight; \"we have talked enough.\"\nThen Beaumains bade the damsel retire to a safe distance. Taking their\nplaces, they put their spears in rest, and came together like two\nthunderbolts, each smiting the other so fiercely that the breast-plates,\nhorse-girths, and cruppers burst, and both fell to the earth with the\nbridle-reins still in their hands, and they lay awhile stunned by the\nfall.\nSo long they lay indeed that all who looked on thought that both their\nnecks were broken, and said that the stranger knight must be of mighty\nprowess, for never had the red knight been so roughly handled before.\nBut ere long the knights regained their breath and sprang to their feet.\nThen, drawing their swords, they ran like fierce lions together, giving\neach other such buffets on the helms that both reeled backwards, while\npieces were hewed out from their armor and shields and fell into the\nfield.\nThus they fought on till it was past noon, when both stopped for breath,\nand stood panting and bleeding till many who beheld them wept for pity.\nWhen they had rested awhile they again went to battle, now gnashing at\neach other with their swords like tusked boars, and now running together\nlike furious rams, so that at times both fell to the ground; and at\ntimes they were grappled so closely that they changed swords in the\nwrestle.\nThis went on till evening was near at hand, and so evenly they continued\nmatched that none could know which would win. Their armor was so hewn\naway that the naked flesh showed in places, and these places they did\ntheir utmost to defend. The red knight was a wily fighter, and Beaumains\nsuffered sorely before he learned his methods and met him in his own\nway.\nAt length, by mutual assent, they granted each other a short time for\nrest, and seated themselves upon two hillocks, where each had his page\nto unlace his helm and give him a breath of the cold air.\nWhile Beaumains's helm was off he looked at the castle window, and there\nsaw the Lady Lioness, who looked at him in such wise that his heart grew\nlight with joy, and he bade the red knight to make ready, for the battle\nmust begin again.\nThen they laced their helms and stepped together and fought freshly. But\nBeaumains came near to disaster, for the red knight, by a skilful sword\nsweep, struck his sword from his hand, and then gave him such a buffet\non the helm as hurled him to the earth.\nThe red knight ran forward to his fallen foe, but Linet cried loudly,--\n\"Oh, Beaumains, where is thy valor gone? Alas, my sister sobs and weeps\nto see you overthrown, till my own heart is heavy for her grief.\"\nHearing this, Beaumains sprang to his feet before his foe could reach\nhim, and with a leap recovered his sword, which he gripped with a strong\nhand. And thus he faced again his surprised antagonist.\nThen the young knight, nerved by love and desperation, poured such\nfierce blows on his enemy that he smote the sword from his hand and\nbrought him to the earth with a fiery blow on the helm.\nBefore the red knight could rise, Beaumains threw himself upon him, and\ntore his helm from his head with intent to slay him. But the fallen\nknight cried loudly,--\n\"O noble knight, I yield me to thy mercy.\"\n\"Why should you have it, after the shameful death you have given to so\nmany knights?\"\n\"I did all this through love,\" answered the red knight. \"I loved a lady\nwhose brother was slain by Lancelot or Gawaine, as she said. She made me\nswear on my knighthood to fight till I met one of them, and put to a\nshameful death all I overcame. And I vowed to fight King Arthur's\nknights above all, till I should meet him that had slain her brother.\"\nThen there came up many earls, and barons, and noble knights, who fell\nupon their knees and prayed for mercy to the vanquished, saying,--\n\"Sir, it were fairer to take homage and fealty of him, and let him hold\nhis lands of you, than to slay him. Nothing wrong that he has done will\nbe undone by his death, and we will all become your men, and do you\nhomage and fealty.\"\n\"Fair lords,\" said Beaumains, \"I am loath to slay this knight, though\nhis deeds have been ill and shameful. But as he acted through a lady's\nrequest I blame him the less, and will release him on these conditions:\nHe must go into the castle and yield to the Lady Lioness, and make\namends to her for his trespass on her lands; then if she forgives him I\nwill. Afterwards he must go to the court of King Arthur and obtain\nforgiveness from Lancelot and Gawaine for the ill will he has borne\nthem.\"\n\"All this I will do,\" said the red knight, \"and give you pledges and\nsureties therefore.\"\nThen Beaumains granted him his life, and permitted him to rise.\nAfterwards the damsel Linet disarmed Beaumains and applied healing\nunguents to his wounds, and performed the same service for the red\nknight. For ten days thereafter Beaumains dwelt with the red knight, who\nshowed him all the honor possible, and who afterwards went into the\ncastle and submitted himself to the Lady Lioness, according to the terms\nof his compact.\nCHAPTER IV.\nHOW BEAUMAINS WON HIS BRIDE.\nAfter the ten days of feasting and pleasure that followed the events we\nhave just related, the Red Knight of the Red Lawns set out with his\nnoblest followers to Arthur's court, to make submission as he had\ncovenanted. When he had gone, Beaumains armed himself, took his horse\nand spear, and rode to the castle of the Lady Lioness. But when he came\nto the gate he found there many armed men, who pulled up the drawbridge\nand let fall the portcullis.\nMarvelling deeply that he was denied admittance, Beaumains looked up at\nthe window, where he saw the lady of the castle, who called out to\nhim,--\n\"Go thy way, Sir Beaumains. You shall not yet have my love till you have\nearned for yourself a name of world-wide honor. I bid you, therefore,\ngo strive for fame and glory this twelvemonth, and when you return you\nshall hear new tidings.\"\n\"Alas, fair lady,\" said Beaumains, \"is this all I have deserved of you?\nI thought I had bought your love at the price of some of the best blood\nin my body.\"\n\"Fair, courteous knight, be not so hasty,\" answered Lioness. \"Your labor\nand your love shall not be lost. A twelvemonth will soon pass away; and\ntrust me that I shall be true to you, and to my death shall love no\nother than you.\"\nWith this she turned from the window, and Beaumains rode slowly away\nfrom the castle in deep sorrow, and heeding not whither he went till\ndeep night came upon him. The next day he rode in the same heedless\nfashion, and at night couched in a wayside lodge, bidding the dwarf\nguard his horse and watch all night.\nBut near day dawn came a knight in black armor, who, seeing that\nBeaumains slept soundly, crept slyly behind the dwarf, caught him up\nunder his arm, and rode away with him at full speed. But as he rode, the\ndwarf called loudly to his master for help, waking the sleeping knight,\nwho sprang to his feet and saw the robber and the dwarf vanishing into\nthe distance.\nThen Beaumains armed himself in a fury, and rode straight forward\nthrough marshes and dales, so hot upon the chase that he heeded not the\nroad, and was more than once flung by his stumbling horse into the mire.\nAt length he met a country-man, whom he asked for information.\n[Illustration: BEAUMAINS, DAMSEL, AND DWARF.]\n\"Sir knight,\" he answered, \"I have seen the rider with the dwarf. But I\nadvise you to follow him no farther. His name is Sir Gringamore; he\ndwells but two miles from here, and he is one of the most valiant\nknights of the country round.\"\nWith little dread from this warning, Beaumains rode on, with double fury\nas he came near the robber's castle. Soon he thundered through the\ngates, which stood wide open, and sword in hand cried, in a voice that\nrang through the castle,--\n\"Thou traitor, Sir Gringamore, yield me my dwarf again, or by the faith\nthat I owe to the order of knighthood I will make you repent bitterly\nyour false deed.\"\nMeanwhile, within the castle matters of interest were occurring. For\nGringamore was brother to the Lady Lioness, and had stolen the dwarf at\nher request, that she might learn from him who Beaumains really was. The\ndwarf, under threat of imprisonment for life, thus answered,--\n\"I fear to tell his name and kindred. Yet if I must I will say that he\nis a king's son, that his mother is sister to King Arthur, and that his\nname is Sir Gareth of Orkney. Now, I pray you, let me go to him again,\nfor he will have me in spite of you, and if he be angry, he will work\nyou much rack and ruin.\"\n\"As for that,\" said Gringamore, \"it can wait. Let us go to dinner.\"\n\"He may well be a king's son,\" said Linet to her sister, \"for he is the\nmost courteous and long-suffering man I ever met. I tried him with such\nreviling as never lady uttered before, but he bore it all with meek and\ngentle answers. Yet to armed knights he was like a lion.\"\nAs they thus talked, the challenge of Beaumains rang loud from the\ncastle court. Then Gringamore called loudly to him from a window,--\n\"Cease your boasting, Gareth of Orkney, you will not get your dwarf\nagain.\"\n\"Thou coward knight,\" cried Beaumains. \"Bring him here, and do battle\nwith me. Then if you can win him, keep him.\"\n\"So I will when I am ready. But you will not get him by loud words.\"\n\"Do not anger him, brother,\" said Lioness. \"I have all I want from the\ndwarf, and he may have him again. But do not let him know who I am. Let\nhim think me a strange lady.\"\n\"Very well,\" said Gringamore; \"if that is your wish, he can have the\ndwarf.\" Then he went down to the court and said,--\n\"Sir, I beg your pardon, and am ready to amend all the harm I have done\nyou. Pray alight, and take such cheer as my poor castle affords.\"\n\"Shall I have my dwarf?\" said Gareth.\n\"Yes. Since he told me who you are, and of your noble deeds, I am ready\nto return him.\"\nThen Gareth dismounted, and the dwarf came and took his horse.\n\"Oh, my little fellow,\" said Gareth, \"I have had many adventures for\nyour sake.\"\nGringamore then led him into the hall and presented him to his wife. And\nwhile they stood there conversing Dame Lioness came forth dressed like a\nprincess, and was presented to the knight.\nWhen Gareth saw her his feeling for the Lady Lioness weakened in his\nheart, and it grew ready to vanish as the day passed, and he conversed\nmuch with this strange and lovely lady. There were all manner of games,\nand sports of dancing and singing, and the more he beheld her the more\nhe loved her, while through his heart ran ever the thought: \"Would that\nthe lady of the Castle Dangerous were half so lovely and charming as\nthis beautiful stranger.\"\nWhen supper came, Gareth could not eat, and hardly knew where he was, so\nhot had his love grown. All this was noted by Gringamore, who after\nsupper took his sister aside and said,--\n\"I can well see how matters stand between you and this noble knight. And\nit seems to me you cannot do better than to bestow your hand upon him.\"\n\"I should like to try him further,\" she replied, \"though he has done me\nnoble service, and my heart is warmly turned to him.\"\nGringamore then went to Gareth and said,--\n\"Sir, I welcome you gladly to my house, for I can see that you dearly\nlove my sister, and that she loves you as well. With my will she is\nyours if you wish her.\"\n\"If she will accept me,\" answered Gareth, \"there will be no happier man\non earth.\"\n\"Trust me for that,\" said Gringamore.\n\"I fancied I loved the Lady Lioness,\" said Gareth, \"and promised for her\nsake to return to this country in a twelvemonth. But since I have seen\nyour sister I fear my love for her is gone.\"\n\"It was too sudden to be deep,\" said Gringamore. \"She will be consoled,\ndoubt not. Now let me take you to my sister.\"\nThen he led Gareth to his sister and left them together, where they told\neach other their love, and Gareth kissed her many times, and their\nhearts were filled with joy.\n\"But how is it with the Lady Lioness, to whom you vowed your love?\" she\nasked.\n\"Promised; not vowed,\" he answered. \"And she was not ready to accept it,\nbut gave me a twelvemonth's probation. Moreover, I saw but her face at a\nwindow, and that was little to base love upon.\"\n\"Did she look like me?\"\n\"Somewhat, but not half so lovely.\"\n\"Do you think you could have loved her so well?\"\n\"No, indeed; for I will vow by sword and spear that there is no woman in\nthe world so charming as you.\"\n\"I fear that the Lady Lioness loves you, and that her heart will be\nbroken.\"\n\"How could she? She saw so little of me.\"\n\"I know she loves you; she has told me so. I bid you to forget me and\nmake her happy.\"\n\"That I can never do. You do not love me, or you could not say this.\"\n\"You are my heart's desire. But I feel deeply for the Lady Lioness,\nwhose love I know. If you cannot love her alone, you may love us both\ntogether. I grant you this privilege.\"\n\"I will not accept it,\" said Gareth, looking strangely at her smiling\ncountenance. \"I love but you; my heart can hold no more.\"\n\"You blind fellow,\" she answered, with a merry laugh, \"you looked not at\nthe Lady Lioness closely, or you would not so easily forget your troth\nplight. Know, sirrah, that I am the lady of the Castle Dangerous, that\nmy name is Lioness, and that I am she whom you have so lightly thrown\naside for the love of a strange lady.\"\nThen Gareth looked into her glowing countenance, and saw there that she\nspoke the truth and that he had been pleasantly beguiled. With a warm\nimpulse of love he caught her in his arms and kissed her rosy lips,\nexclaiming,--\n\"I withdraw it all. I love you both; the lady of the Castle Dangerous a\nlittle; but the lady of the Castle Amorous as my heart's mistress, to\ndwell there while life remains.\"\nThen they conversed long and joyfully, and she told him why she had made\nher brother steal the dwarf, and why she had deceived him, so as to win\nhis love for herself alone. And they plighted their troth, and vowed\nthat their love for each other should never cease.\nOther strange things happened to Gareth in that castle, through the\nspells of the damsel Linet, who knew something of sorcery. But these we\nshall not tell, but return to King Arthur's court, in which at the next\nfeast of Pentecost a high festival was held at Carlion.\nHither, during the feast, came all those whom Gareth had overcome, and\nyielded themselves, saying that they had been sent thither by a knight\nnamed Beaumains. But most of all was Arthur surprised by the deeds of\nhis kitchen boy when the Red Knight of the Red Lawns rode up with six\nhundred followers, and yielded himself as vassal to Beaumains and to the\nking. Arthur then, charging him strictly that he should do no more deeds\nof murder, gave to Sir Ironside, which was the knight's name, the\ngreatest honors of his court, and also to the green and the red knights,\nand to Sir Persant of Inde, who were all present with their followers.\nBut while the court was at feast there came in the queen of Orkney, with\na great following of knights and ladies, seeking her young son Gareth.\nShe was lovingly saluted by her sons Gawaine, Gaheris, and Agravaine,\nwho for fifteen years had not seen her, but she loudly demanded Gareth\nof her brother King Arthur.\n\"He was here among you a twelvemonth, and you made a kitchen knave of\nhim, which I hold to be a shame to you all. What have you done to the\ndear son who was my joy and bliss?\"\nThese words filled all hearts with a strange sensation, and most of all\nthat of Gawaine, who thought it marvellous that he should have made so\nmuch of his brother and not known him. Then Arthur told his sister of\nall that had happened, and cheered her heart with a recital of her son's\ngreat deeds, and promised to have the whole realm searched till he\nshould be found.\n\"You shall not need,\" said Lancelot. \"My advice is that you send a\nmessenger to Dame Lioness, and request her to come in all haste to\ncourt. Let her give you counsel where to find him. I doubt not she knows\nwhere he is.\"\nThis counsel seemed judicious to the king, and he sent the messenger as\nrequested, who came in due time to the Castle Dangerous, and delivered\nhis letters to Lioness.\nShe brought these to her brother and Gareth, and asked what she should\ndo.\n\"My lady and love,\" said Gareth, \"if you go to Arthur's court I beg that\nyou will not let them know where I am. But give this advice to the king,\nthat he call a great tournament, to be held at your castle at the feast\nof the Assumption, and announce that whatever knight proves himself best\nshall wed you and win your lands. Be sure that I will be there to do my\nbest in your service.\"\nThis advice pleased the lady, whose warm faith in the prowess of her\nlover told her that he would win in the tournament. She therefore set\nout with a noble escort and rode to King Arthur's court, where she was\nreceived with the highest honors. The king closely questioned her about\nSir Gareth, desiring particularly to know what had become of him. She\nanswered that where he was she was not at liberty to tell, and said\nfurther to the king,--\n\"Sir, there is a way to find him. It is my purpose to call a tournament,\nwhich shall be held before my castle at the feast of the Assumption.\nYou, my lord Arthur, must be there with your knights, and my knights\nshall be against you. I doubt me not that then you shall hear of Sir\nGareth.\"\n\"That is well advised,\" said the king.\n\"It shall be announced,\" she continued, \"that the knight who proves the\nbest shall wed me and be lord of my lands. If he be already wedded, his\nwife shall have a coronal of gold, set with precious stones to the value\nof a thousand pounds, and a white jerfalcon.\"\n\"It is well,\" said the king. \"That will bring Sir Gareth, if he be alive\nand able to come. If he would win you, he must do his duty nobly.\"\nSoon after the Lady Lioness departed and returned to her castle, where\nshe told all that had passed, and began preparations for the tournament,\nwhich was to be held two months from that day.\nGareth sent for Sir Persant of Inde, and for Sir Ironside, the Red\nKnight of the Red Lawns, bidding them be ready with all their followers,\nto fight on his side against King Arthur and his knights. And the cry\nfor the tournament was made in England, Wales and Scotland, Ireland, and\nCornwall, and in all the out islands, and in Brittany and other\ncountries. Many good knights came from afar, eager to win honor in the\nlists, the most of whom held with the party of the castle against King\nArthur and his knights.\nIn due time King Arthur and his following appeared at the Castle\nDangerous, there being with him Gawaine and the other brothers of\nGareth, Lancelot with his nephews and cousins, and all the most valiant\nKnights of the Round Table, with various kings who owed him knightly\nservice, as noble a band of warriors as had ever been seen in the land.\nMeanwhile Dame Lioness had hospitably entertained the knights of her\nparty, providing ample lodging and food, though abundance was left to be\nhad for gold and silver by King Arthur and his knights.\nBut Gareth begged her and all who knew him in no manner to make known\nhis name, but to deal with him as if he were the least of their company,\nas he wished to fight in secret and bide his own time to declare\nhimself.\n\"Sir,\" said Dame Lioness to him, \"if such be your desire, I will lend\nyou a ring, whose virtue is such that it will turn that which is green\nto red, and that which is red to green; and also turn blue to white, and\nwhite to blue, and so with all colors. And he who wears it will lose no\nblood, however desperately he fights. For the great love I bear you I\nlend you this ring; but as you love me heartily in return, let me have\nit again when the tournament is done, for this ring increases my beauty\nmore than it is of itself.\"\n\"My own dear lady,\" cried Gareth, \"now indeed you prove your love for\nme. Gladly shall I wear that ring, for I much desire not to be known.\"\nThen Sir Gringamore gave Gareth a powerful bay courser, and a suit of\nthe best of armor; and with them a noble sword which his father had long\nbefore won from a heathen tyrant. And so the lover made ready for the\ntournament, of which his lady-love was to be the prize.\nTwo days before the Assumption of our Lady, King Arthur reached the\ncastle, and for those two days rich feasting was held, while royal\nminstrelsy and merry-making of all kinds filled every soul with joy. But\nwhen came the morning of the Assumption all was restless bustle and\nwarlike confusion. At an early hour the heralds were commanded to blow\nto the field, and soon from every side a throng of knights was to be\nseen riding gayly to the lists, while a goodly host of spectators made\nhaste to take their seats, all eager to behold that noble\npassage-at-arms.\nValorous and worthy were the deeds that followed, for hosts of the best\nknights in the world had gathered in the lists, and there was wondrous\nbreaking of spears and unhorsing of knights, while many who boasted of\ntheir firm seat in the saddle went headlong to the earth.\nAt length there rode into the lists Sir Gareth and Sir Ironside from the\ncastle, each of whom smote to the ground the first knights that\nencountered them, and before long time had passed Gareth had with one\nspear unhorsed seven knights of renown.\nWhen King Agwisance of Ireland saw this new-comer fare so nobly, he\nmarvelled much who he might be, for at one time he seemed green and at\nanother blue, his color appearing to change at every course as he rode\nto and fro, so that no eye could readily follow him.\n\"I must try this strange turn-color knight myself,\" said Sir Agwisance,\nand he spurred his horse vigorously on Gareth.\nBut with a mighty stroke of his spear Gareth thrust him from his horse,\nsaddle and all. Then King Carados of Scotland rode against him, and was\nhurled to the earth, horse and man. King Uriens of Gore, King\nBagdemagus, and others who tried their fortune, were served in the same\nmanner. Then Sir Galahalt, the high prince, cried loudly,--\n\"Knight of the many colors, well hast thou jousted; now make ready,\nthat I may joust with thee.\"\nGareth heard him, and got a great spear, and quickly the two knights\nencountered, the prince breaking his spear. But Gareth smote him on the\nleft side of the helm so that he reeled in his saddle, and would have\nfallen had not his men supported him.\n\"Truly,\" said King Arthur, \"that knight with the many colors is a lusty\nfighter. Lancelot, do you try his mettle, before he beats all our best\nmen.\"\n\"Sir,\" said Lancelot, \"I should hold it unjust to meet him fresh after\nhis hard labors. It is not the part of a good knight to rob one of the\nhonor for which he has worked so nobly. It may be that he is best\nbeloved of the lady of all that are here, for I can see that he enforces\nhimself to do great deeds. Therefore, for me, he shall have what honor\nhe has won; though it lay in my power to put him from it, I would not.\"\nAnd now, in the lists, the breaking of spears was followed by drawing of\nswords; and then there began a sore tournament. There did Sir Lamorak\nmarvellous deeds of arms, and betwixt him and Sir Ironside there was a\nstrong battle, and one also between Palamides and Bleoberis. Then came\nin Lancelot, who rode against Sir Turquine and his brother Carados,\nfighting them both together.\nSeeing Lancelot thus hard pressed, Gareth pushed his horse between him\nand his opponents, and hurtled them asunder, but no stroke would he\nsmite Sir Lancelot, but rode briskly on, striking to right and left, so\nthat his path was marked by the knights he overturned.\nAfterward Gareth rode out of the press of knights to adjust his helm,\nwhich had become loosened. Here his dwarf came briskly up with drink,\nand said to him,--\n\"Let me hold your ring, that you lose it not while you drink.\"\nGareth gave it to him, and quaffed deeply of the refreshing draught, for\nhe was burning with thirst. This done, his eagerness to return to the\nfray was so great that he forgot the ring, which he left in the keeping\nof the dwarf, while he replaced his helm, mounted his horse, and rode\nbriskly back to the lists.\nWhen he reached the field again he was in yellow armor, and there he\nrashed off helms and pulled down knights till King Arthur marvelled more\nthan ever what knight this was, for though his color changed no more,\nthe king saw by his hair that he was the same knight.\n\"Go and ride about that yellow knight,\" said the king to several\nheralds, \"and see if you can learn who he is. I have asked many knights\nof his party to-day, and none of them know him.\"\nSo a herald rode as near Gareth as he could, and there he saw written\nabout his helm in letters of gold, \"This helm is Sir Gareth's of\nOrkney.\"\nThen the herald cried out as if he were mad, and many others echoed his\nwords, \"The knight in the yellow arms is Sir Gareth of Orkney, King\nLot's son!\"\nWhen Gareth saw that he was discovered he doubled his strokes in his\nanger, and smote down Sir Sagramore, and his brother Gawaine.\n\"Oh, brother!\" cried Gawaine, \"I did not deem that you would strike me.\nCan you not find food enough for your sword, without coming so near\nhome?\"\nOn hearing this, Gareth was troubled in soul, and with great force made\nhis way out of the press, meeting his dwarf outside.\n\"Faithless boy!\" he cried; \"you have beguiled me foully to-day by\nkeeping my ring. Give it to me again; I am too well known without it.\"\nHe took the ring, and at once he changed color again, so that all lost\nsight of him but Gawaine, who had kept his eyes fixed upon him. Leaving\nthe lists, Gareth now rode into the forest, followed at a distance by\nhis brother, who soon lost sight of him in the woodland depths.\nWhen Gareth saw that he had thus distanced his pursuer, he turned to the\ndwarf and asked his counsel as to what should now be done.\n\"Sir,\" said the dwarf, \"it seems best to me, now that you are free from\ndanger of spying, that you send my lady, Dame Lioness, her ring. It is\ntoo precious a thing to keep from her.\"\n\"That is well advised,\" said Gareth. \"Take it to her, and say that I\nrecommend myself to her good grace, and will come when I may; and pray\nher to be true and faithful to me, as I will be to her.\"\n\"It shall be done as you command,\" said the dwarf, and, receiving the\nring, he rode on his errand.\nThe Lady Lioness received him graciously, and listened with beaming eyes\nto Gareth's message.\n\"Where is my knight?\" she asked.\n\"He bade me say that he would not be long from you,\" answered the dwarf.\nThen, bearing a tender reply from the lady, the dwarf sought his master\nagain, and found him impatiently waiting, for he was weary and needed\nrepose.\nAs they rode forward through the forest a storm of thunder and lightning\ncame up suddenly, and it rained as if heaven and earth were coming\ntogether. On through this conflict of the elements rode the weary knight\nand the disconsolate dwarf, under the drenching leaves of the forest,\nuntil night was near at hand. And still it thundered and lightened as if\nall the spirits of the air had gone mad.\nAt last, through an opening in the trees, Gareth to his delight beheld\nthe towers of a castle, and heard the watchman's call upon its walls.\n\"Good luck follows bad, my worthy dwarf,\" he cried. \"Here is shelter;\nlet us to it.\"\nHe rode to the barbican of the castle and called to the porter, praying\nhim in courteous language to let him in from the storm.\n\"Go thy way,\" cried the porter, surlily; \"thou gettest no lodging here.\"\n\"Say not so, fair sir. I am a knight of King Arthur's, and pray the lord\nor lady of this castle to give me harbor for love of the king.\"\nThen the porter went to the duchess, and told her that a knight of King\nArthur's sought shelter.\n\"I will see him,\" said the duchess; \"for King Arthur's sake he shall not\ngo harborless.\"\nThen she went up into a tower over the gate, with great torch-light,\nthat she might behold the storm-stayed wayfarer. When Gareth saw the\nlight, he cried loudly,--\n\"Whether thou be lord or lady, giant or champion, I pray for harbor this\nnight. If it be that I must fight for my lodging, spare me that till\nmorning, when I have rested, for I and my horse are both weary.\"\n\"Sir knight,\" said the lady, \"you speak like a bold knight errant. This\nyou must know, that the lord of this castle loves not King Arthur nor\nany of his court. Therefore, it were better for you not to enter here.\nIf you come in it must be under this contract, that wherever you meet my\nlord, by road, by lane, or by street, you shall yield to him as his\nprisoner.\"\n\"Madam,\" asked Gareth, \"what is your lord's name?\"\n\"He is the Duke de la Rowse,\" she answered.\n\"Well, madam, it shall be as you say. I promise that wherever I meet\nyour lord I shall yield me to his good grace, with the covenant that he\nwill do me no harm. If I understand that he will, then shall I release\nmyself as best I can with sword and spear.\"\n\"You speak well and wisely,\" answered the duchess, and she ordered that\nthe drawbridge be lowered.\nGareth rode into the court-yard, where he alighted and gave his horse to\na stableman. Then he was led to the hall, where his dwarf removed his\narmor.\n\"Madam,\" he said, \"I shall not leave this hall to-night. When it comes\ndaylight if any one wants to fight me he will find me ready.\"\nSupper was now prepared, the table being garnished with many goodly\ndishes, and the duchess and other fair ladies sat by while Gareth ate,\nsome of them saying that they never saw a man of nobler carriage or\naspect. Shortly after he had supped, his bed was made in the hall, and\nthere he rested all night.\nIn the morning he heard mass and took his leave of the duchess and her\nlady attendants, thanking her warmly for his lodging and the good cheer\nshe had set before him. She now asked him his name.\n\"Madam,\" he replied, \"my name is Gareth of Orkney, though some men call\nme Beaumains.\"\nHearing this, she bade him adieu with great courtesy, for she now knew\nthat she had entertained the knight who had rescued Dame Lioness, and\nthe victor at the tournament.\nAs for Gareth, he rode onward mile after mile, till he found himself on\na mountain side, where he was confronted by a knight named Sir\nBendelaine, who demanded that he should joust or yield himself prisoner.\nGareth, angry at this demand, rode against the freebooter and smote him\nso furiously that his spear pierced his body, so that he died on\nreaching his castle.\nQuickly a throng of his knights and servants, furious at their lord's\ndeath, rode after the victor and assailed him fiercely. When they saw\nhow well he defended himself, they attacked his horse and killed it\nwith spear-thrusts, and then rushed in a body on the dismounted knight.\nBut they found him still more than their match, for one after another of\nthem fell beneath his sword till only four were left. These fled in\nterror to the castle, and Gareth, taking the best of their horses, rode\nleisurely on his way.\nMany miles farther had he gone when he found himself near a roadside\ncastle, from whose walls there came to his ears dismal lamentations in\nladies' voices. While he stood wondering at this there came by a page.\n\"What noise is that within the castle?\" asked Gareth.\n\"Sir knight,\" answered the page, \"within this castle there are thirty\nladies, all widows, for their husbands have been slain by the lord of\nthe castle, who is called the brown knight without pity, and there is no\nmore perilous knight now living. Therefore,\" continued the page, \"I bid\nyou flee.\"\n\"You may be afraid of him,\" said Gareth; \"but I shall not flee for\nthat.\"\nThen the page saw the brown knight coming.\n\"Lo! yonder he cometh,\" he said.\n\"Let me deal with him,\" said Gareth.\nWhen the brown knight saw a champion in the road, with spear in rest,\nawaiting him, he prepared quickly for the combat, and spurring his\nstrong war-horse, rode furiously upon Gareth, breaking his spear in the\nmiddle of his shield. But Gareth struck him a fatal blow in return, for\nhis spear went through his body, so that he fell to the ground stark\ndead.\nThen the victor rode into the castle, and prayed the ladies that he\nmight find repose there for the night.\n\"Alas!\" they cried, \"that cannot be.\"\n\"Give him your best cheer,\" said the page, \"for this knight has killed\nyour enemy.\"\nHearing this, they joyfully did their utmost to make him comfortable. In\nthe morning, when he was ready to depart, he went to mass, and there saw\nthe thirty ladies kneeling, and some of them grovelling upon the tombs,\nwith the greatest sorrow and lamentation.\n\"Fair ladies, you have my pity,\" he said. \"Grieve no more, I pray you;\nyour enemy is justly punished for his crimes.\"\nSo with few words he departed, and rode onward till fortune brought him\ninto another mountain. Not far up its slope had he gone when he saw\nbefore him a sturdy knight, who bade him stand and joust.\n\"Who are you?\" asked Gareth.\n\"I am the Duke de la Rowse.\"\n\"Then I lodged lately in your castle, and promised your lady that I\nshould yield unto you.\"\n\"Ah!\" said the duke, \"are you that proud knight who proffered to fight\nwith any of my followers? Make ready, sirrah; I must have a\npassage-at-arms with you, for I would know which of us is the better\nman.\"\nSo they spurred together, and Gareth smote the duke from his horse. But\nin a moment he was on his feet, sword in hand, and bidding his\nantagonist to alight and continue the battle on foot. Nothing loath,\nGareth obeyed, and for more than an hour they fought, until both were\nsorely hurt. But in the end Gareth got the duke to the earth, and bade\nhim yield if he would save his life. At this the duke lost no time in\nyielding.\n\"Then must you go,\" said Gareth, \"unto my lord King Arthur at the next\nfeast, and say that I, Sir Gareth of Orkney, sent you.\"\n\"It shall be done,\" said the duke. \"And I am at your command all the\ndays of my life, with a hundred knights in my train.\"\nThis said, the duke departed, leaving Gareth there alone. But not long\nhad he stood when he saw another armed knight approaching. Then Gareth\ntook the duke's shield, and mounted, waiting the new-comer, who rode\nupon him without a word of greeting. And now, for the first time, Gareth\nmet his match, for the stranger knight held his seat unharmed, and\nwounded him in the side with his spear.\nThen they alighted and drew their swords, and for two hours they fought,\ntill the blood flowed freely from them both.\nAs they thus fought there came that way the damsel Linet, riding on an\nambling mule. When she saw them, she cried,--\n\"Sir Gawaine, Sir Gawaine, leave off fighting with thy brother Gareth.\"\nWhen Gawaine, for it was indeed he, heard this, he threw down his shield\nand sword and ran to Gareth, whom he took in his arms, and then kneeled\ndown and asked his mercy.\n\"Who are you,\" asked Gareth, \"that one minute fight me so strongly and\nyield the next?\"\n\"Oh, Gareth, I am your brother Gawaine.\"\nThen Gareth unlaced his helm, and kneeled to him and asked his mercy.\nBoth now rose and embraced each other, weeping so that it was long\nbefore they could speak. When their voices returned they entered into a\nbrotherly contest, for each insisted that the other had won the battle.\nAs they thus stood in loving converse, the damsel Linet came up to them,\nand stanched their wounds, from which the blood was flowing freely.\n\"What will you do now?\" she asked. \"It seems to me that my lord Arthur\nshould have news of you, for your horses are too bruised to carry you.\"\n\"It is well said,\" answered Gawaine. \"Will you, fair damsel, bear word\nto him?\"\nThen she took her mule and rode to where the king abode, he then being\nat a castle scarcely two miles distant. The tidings she brought him\ncheered his heart wonderfully, for much had the disappearance of Gareth\ntroubled him. Turning to his attendants, he ordered that a palfrey\nshould be saddled in all haste.\nWhen he was in the saddle he turned to the wondering lords and ladies\nand told them whither he went, bidding all who wished to greet Sir\nGareth to follow. Then was there hasty saddling and bridling of queens'\nhorses and princes' horses, and happiest were they who soonest got\nready.\nBut the king rode on till he came where Gawaine and Gareth sat upon a\nlittle hill-side, and here he sprang from his horse and embraced Gareth\nas though he were his own son. Quickly behind him came his sister\nMorgause, who fell into a swoon when she saw her dear young son. And the\nother knights and ladies came up in all haste, and great was the joy\nthat all felt. After congratulations had passed, and the two brothers\nbeen removed to a place where their wounds could be attended to, the\nDame Lioness was sent for, and came at the utmost speed, with her\nbrother Sir Gringamore and forty knights.\nAmong all the ladies there she was the fairest and peerless. And when\nGareth saw her, so loving were the looks and joyous the words between\nthem, that all who beheld it were filled with delight.\nEight days passed before Gareth and his brother recovered from their\nwounds. Then Arthur came to him, with Guenever, and Morgause, and others\nof high degree, and asked him if he would have the Lady Lioness for his\nwife.\n\"My lord, I love her above all ladies living.\"\n\"Now, fair lady, what say you?\" asked the king.\n\"Most noble king,\" replied Lioness, with blushing face, \"my lord Gareth\nis more to me than any king or prince that was ever christened. If I may\nnot have him, none will I ever have. My first love is he, and my last he\nshall be.\"\n\"And if I have you not as my wife,\" broke in Gareth, \"never shall lady\nliving give joy to my heart.\"\n\"What, nephew,\" said the king, \"is the wind in that door? Then not for\nmy crown would I sever two such loving hearts, but would much prefer to\nincrease than to distress your love.\"\nAnd words to the same effect said Gareth's mother.\nThen provision was made for a brilliant and joyous wedding, the king\nadvising that it should take place on the Michaelmas following, at\nKinkenadon by the seaside, where is a plentiful country. And so it was\ncried in all places through the realm.\nDame Lioness and the damsel Linet, with Sir Gringamore, now rode to\ntheir castle, where she gave Gareth a jewelled ring and received one\nfrom him, while Arthur gave her a rich bee of gold. Then Arthur and his\nfollowing rode towards Kinkenadon. Gareth soon followed, and joined\nArthur on his way.\nOh, the great cheer that Lancelot now made of Gareth, and Gareth of him;\nfor there was never knight that Gareth loved as he did Lancelot. But he\ncared less for his brother Gawaine, who was revengeful, and disposed to\nmurder where he hated, a feeling which the young knight abhorred.\nWhen Michaelmas came near, Dame Lioness with her brother and sister rode\nto Kinkenadon, where they were lodged at the expense of King Arthur, who\nhad prepared for them royally.\nAnd upon Michaelmas day the bishop of Canterbury performed the wedding\nceremony between Gareth and the Lady Lioness with all solemnity, and in\nthe presence of a noble and splendid gathering of the greatest lords and\nhighest ladies of England's realm.\nAnd here other weddings took place, for King Arthur devised that Gaheris\nshould wed the damsel Linet, and that Agravaine should wed Dame Laurel,\na fair lady, niece to the Lady Lioness.\n[Illustration: THE JOYOUS WEDDING.]\nWhen these weddings were done another solemnity took place; for there\ncame into the church the various knights whom Gareth had overcome, each\nwith his knightly followers, and with them the thirty ladies whom he had\ndelivered from the brown knight, attended by many gentlewomen. All the\nknights did homage and fealty to Gareth, and the ladies kneeled and\nprayed heartily that happiness might be his lot throughout his life.\nAfterwards there was high feasting, and all manner of games and revels,\nwith the richest minstrelsy, and jousts that lasted three days. But the\nking would not suffer Sir Gareth to joust because of his new bride; for\nthe Dame Lioness had desired that none who were newly married should\njoust at that feast.\nOn the first day Sir Lamorak won the honor of the lists, for he\noverthrew thirty knights and did marvellous feats of arms. And that day\nKing Arthur made Sir Persant of Inde and his two brothers, Knights of\nthe Round Table, and gave them great lands.\nOn the second day Sir Tristram jousted best, and overthrew forty\nknights. And on that day the king made Sir Ironside, the Red Knight of\nthe Red Lawns, a Knight of the Round Table, and gave him great lands.\nOn the third day the prize of valor fell to Sir Lancelot, who overthrew\nfifty knights and did such marvellous deeds that all men wondered at\nhim. And now King Arthur made the Duke de la Rowse a Knight of the Round\nTable, and gave him great lands to spend.\nThus ended the festivities at the marriage of Sir Gareth of Orkney and\nthe Lady Lioness. But Gareth and his lovely bride lived long and happily\ntogether afterwards, and much knightly renown he won, and great honor\nfrom all men.\n TRISTRAM OF LYONESSE AND THE FAIR ISOLDE.\nCHAPTER I.\nHOW TRISTRAM WAS KNIGHTED.\nSad was the day when the renowned knight, Tristram of Lyonesse, was\nborn, for on that day his mother died, and his father lay in prison\nthrough the arts of an enchantress. Therefore he was called Tristram,\nwhich signifies one of a sorrowful birth.\nIt happened that when he was seven years of age his father, King\nMeliodas, of the country of Lyonesse, married again. His first wife had\nbeen Elizabeth, sister of King Mark of Cornwall. He now married the\ndaughter of King Howell of Brittany, a woman who proved of evil soul.\nFor after the new queen had children of her own she grew to hate the boy\nwho stood between her son and the throne of Lyonesse, and so bitter grew\nher hatred that in the end she laid a foul plot for his murder. She put\npoison in a silver cup in the chamber where the young princes were used\nto play together, with the hope that Tristram when thirsty would drink\nfrom that cup. But fate so willed that the queen's own son drank of the\npoisoned cup, when thirsty from play, and died of it.\nThis fatal error filled the queen with deep anguish, but it added doubly\nto her hate, and with murderous intent she again put the poisoned cup\ninto the chamber. But God protected the boy, for this time King\nMeliodas, being thirsty, saw the envenomed cup of wine, and took it up\nwith purpose to drink. Before he could do so the queen, who was near by,\nran hastily forward, snatched the deadly cup from his hand, and threw\nits contents on the floor.\nThis hasty act filled the king with suspicion, for the sudden death of\nhis young son had seemed to him like the work of poison. In a burst of\npassion he caught the guilty woman fiercely by the hand, drew his sword,\nand swore a mighty oath that he would kill her on the spot, unless she\ntold him what had been in the cup and why it was put there.\nAt this threat the queen, trembling and weeping with fright,\nacknowledged that it had been her design to kill Tristram, in order that\nher son should inherit the kingdom of Lyonesse.\n\"Thou false traitress and murderess!\" cried the king in redoubled\npassion. \"By my royal soul, you shall have the fate you designed for my\nson. A worse one you shall have, for you shall be burned at the stake as\na poisoner.\"\nThen he called a council of his barons, who confirmed this sentence on\nlearning the dark crime of the queen, and by the order of the court a\nfire of execution was prepared, and the murderess bound to the stake,\nwhile fagots were heaped about her drooping form.\nThe flames were already kindled, and were crawling like deadly serpents\nthrough the dry wood, but before they could reach the condemned queen\nyoung Tristram kneeled before his father and begged him a boon.\n\"You shall have it, my son. What would you ask?\"\n\"Grant me the life of the queen. I cannot bear to see her die so\nterrible a death.\"\n\"Ask not that,\" said the king. \"You should hate her who would have\npoisoned you. I have condemned her more for your sake than my own.\"\n\"Yet I beseech you to be merciful to her. I have forgiven her, and pray\nGod to do so. You granted me my boon for God's love, and I hold you to\nyour promise.\"\n\"If you will have it so, I cannot withdraw my word,\" said the king. \"I\ngive her to you. Go to the fire and take her, and do with her what you\nwill.\"\nThis gladdened the boy's heart, which had been full of horror at the\ndreadful spectacle, and he hastened to release the victim from the\nflames.\nBut after that Meliodas would have nothing to do with her until after\nyears had passed, when Tristram reconciled them with each other. And he\nsent his son from the court, being afraid the pardoned murderess might\ndevise some new scheme for his destruction. The noble-hearted lad was\ntherefore given as tutor a learned gentleman named Gouvernail, who took\nhim to France, that he might learn the language and be taught the use of\narms. There he remained seven years, learning not only the language,\nbut the art of minstrelsy, till he became so skilful that few could\nequal him in the use of the harp and other instruments of music. And as\nhe grew older he practised much in hunting and hawking, and in time\nbecame famous also for his skill in this noble art. He in after-life\ndevised many terms used in hunting, and bugle calls of the chase, so\nthat from him the book of venery, or of hunting and hawking, came to be\ncalled the \"Book of Sir Tristram.\"\nThus Tristram grew in accomplishments and nobleness till he attained the\nage of nineteen years, when he had become a youth of handsome face and\npowerful form, being large of size and vigorous of limb. The king, his\nfather, had great joy in his promise of lusty manhood, and so had the\nqueen, whose heart had been won to Tristram when he saved her from the\nflames, and who loved him ever afterwards as much as she had hated him\nin his childhood. Every one loved him, indeed, for he proved himself a\nnoble and gentle-hearted youth, loyal and kind to all he met, and with a\nheart free from evil thoughts or selfish desires.\nHe had learned the use of arms, and knew well how to wield the shield\nand sword, though as yet he had not sought knighthood by deeds of\nbattle; but events were preparing that would bring him soon from youth\nto manhood. For it so happened that King Anguish of Ireland sent to King\nMark of Cornwall, demanding from him tribute which he said was due, but\nhad not been paid for many years. King Mark sent word back that he owed\nand would pay no tribute; and that if the King of Ireland wished to\nprove his claim, he must send a knight who could overcome King Mark's\nchampion.\nKing Anguish was very angry at this answer, but accepted the challenge,\nand sent as his champion Sir Marhaus, brother to his wife, that valiant\nknight who had gone with Gawaine and Uwaine to the country of strange\nadventures, and had afterwards been made a Knight of the Round Table.\nMarhaus accepted the championship, and hastened to Cornwall, where he\nsent his challenge to King Mark; but the latter had taken no steps to\nprovide himself with a worthy champion. Marhaus thereupon encamped near\nthe castle of Tintagil, whither he daily sent a demand to King Mark\neither to pay the tribute or to find a knight to fight his battle.\nAnxious efforts were now made by the Cornish monarch to find a champion,\nsome of the barons advising him to send to King Arthur's court for\nLancelot du Lake. But others dissuaded the king from this, saying that\nneither Lancelot nor any Knight of the Round Table would fight against\ntheir fellow-knight Marhaus. Thus the King of Cornwall was sore put to\nit to find a champion fit to hold the field against such a knight as\nMarhaus.\nWord of this soon spread over the country and quickly reached the castle\nof Meliodas, to which young Tristram had long before returned. The heart\nof the ardent youth filled with anger when he learned that not a knight\ncould be found in all Cornwall able and willing to do battle with the\nIrish champion.\nIn fervent haste he sought his father, and asked him what was to be\ndone to save Cornwall from this disgrace.\n\"I know not,\" answered the king. \"Marhaus is one of the best knights of\nthe Round Table, and there is no knight in this country fit to cope with\nhim.\"\n\"I wish heartily that I were a knight,\" cried Tristram hotly. \"If I\nwere, Sir Marhaus should never depart to Ireland and boast that all\nCornwall could not furnish a knight ready to break a spear with him. I\npray you, dear father, to let me ride to King Mark's court, and beg of\nhim to make me a knight and choose me as his champion.\"\n\"Your spirit honors you, my son,\" said Meliodas. \"You have it in you to\nbecome an able knight, and I give you full leave to do as your courage\nprompts you.\"\nTristram thanked his father warmly for this assent, and, taking horse,\nrode without delay to the castle of his uncle King Mark. When he reached\nthere he found the king depressed in spirit and the whole court deep in\ngloom, for it seemed as if no champion could be found, and that the\ntribute must be paid. Tristram went at once to his uncle and said with\nmodest ardor,--\n\"Sir, it is a shame and disgrace that Cornwall has no champion. I am but\nan untried youth, yet, if you will give me the order of knighthood, I\nstand ready to do battle for you with Sir Marhaus.\"\n\"Who are you, and whence come you?\" asked the king.\n\"I come from King Meliodas, who wedded your sister, and I am a gentleman\nborn.\"\nHope came into the king's eyes when he saw how large and strongly built\nwas his youthful visitor, and marked the spirit of battle in his eyes,\nbut he again demanded his name and place of birth.\n\"My name is Tristram and I was born in the country of Lyonesse,\"\nanswered the youth.\n\"You speak with spirit, and look like the making of a good warrior,\"\nsaid the king. \"If you agree to do this battle, I will grant you\nknighthood.\"\n\"It is that, and that alone, brings me here,\" answered Tristram.\nThen the king knighted him, and at once sent word to Sir Marhaus that he\nhad a champion ready to do battle with him to the uttermost.\n\"That may well be,\" answered Marhaus, \"but I fight not with every\nspringal. Tell King Mark that I shall fight with none but one of royal\nblood. His champion must be son either of a king or a queen.\"\nThis answer King Mark gave to Tristram, and said, gloomily,--\n\"I fear this rules out your championship.\"\n\"Not so,\" said Tristram. \"I came not here to boast, but if I must tell\nmy lineage, you may let him know that I am of as noble blood as he. My\nfather is King Meliodas, and my mother was Elizabeth, your own sister. I\nam the heir of Lyonesse.\"\n\"Is it so?\" cried the king, clasping the youth's hands gladly. \"Then I\nbid you warmly welcome, my fair nephew, and I could ask no better nor\nnobler champion.\"\nHe sent word in all haste to Marhaus that a better born man than himself\nshould fight with him, the son of King Meliodas, and his own nephew.\nAnd while he waited an answer he took care to find for his nephew the\nbest horse and the finest suit of armor that gold could procure. By the\ntime he was thus provided word came back from Marhaus that he would be\nglad and blithe to fight with a gentleman of such noble birth. And he\nrequested that the combat should take place in an island near which lay\nhis ships. This being accepted, Tristram was sent thither in a vessel,\nwith his horse and armor, but attended only by his tutor Gouvernail,\nwhom he now made his squire.\nOn reaching the island Tristram saw on the further shore six ships, but\nhe saw no knight. Then he bade Gouvernail to bring his horse ashore and\narm him. This done, he mounted and took his shield, and then said,--\n\"Where is this knight with whom I have to fight? I see him not.\"\n\"Yonder he hovers,\" answered Gouvernail, \"under the shadow of the ships.\nHe waits you on horseback, and fully armed.\"\n\"True enough. I see him now. All is well. Do you take the vessel and go\nback to my uncle Mark, and tell him that if I be slain it will not be\nthrough cowardice, and pray him, if I die in fair fight, to see that I\nbe interred honorably; but if I should prove recreant then he shall give\nme no Christian burial. And come you not near the island, on your life,\ntill you see me overcome or slain, or till I give you the signal of\nvictory.\"\nThen Gouvernail departed, weeping, for his young master had spoken so\nresolutely that he dared not disobey. Tristram now rode boldly towards\nSir Marhaus, who came forward to meet him. Much courteous conversation\npassed between the two knights, Tristram at the end saying,--\n\"I trust, Sir Marhaus, to win honor and renown from you, and to deliver\nCornwall from tribute forever, and to this end I shall do my best in all\nvalor and honor.\"\n\"Fair sir,\" answered Marhaus, \"your spirit pleases me; but as for\ngaining honor from me, you will lose none if you keep back three strokes\nbeyond my reach, for King Arthur made me not Knight of the Round Table\nexcept for good cause.\"\n\"That may well be,\" answered Tristram; \"but if I show the white feather\nin my first battle may I never bear arms again.\"\nThen they put their spears in rest and rode so furiously together that\nboth were hurled to the earth, horse and man alike. But Tristram had the\nill fortune to receive a severe wound in the side from the spear of his\nadversary.\nHeedless of this, he drew his sword and met Marhaus boldly and bravely.\nThen they began a fierce and desperate fight, striking and foining,\nrushing together in furious onset, and drawing back in cautious heed,\nwhile the ring of sword on armor was like that of hammer on anvil. Hours\npassed in the fight, and the blood flowed freely from the wounds which\neach had received, yet still they stood boldly up to the combat. But\nTristram proved a stronger and better-winded man than Marhaus, and was\nstill fresh when his enemy was growing weary and faint. At the end he\nthrew all his strength into his right arm, and smote Marhaus so mighty\na blow on the helm that it cut down through the steel covering and deep\ninto his head, the sword sticking so fast that Tristram could hardly\npull it out.\nWhen he did so the edge of the sword was left in the skull, and the\nwounded knight fell heavily on his knees. But in a minute he rose and,\nflinging his sword and shield away, fled hastily to his ships.\n\"Why do you withdraw, Knight of the Round Table?\" cried Tristram. \"I am\nbut a young knight, but before I would fly from an adversary I would\nabide to be cut into a thousand pieces.\"\nMarhaus answered only with deep groans of pain and distress.\n\"Go thy way then, sir knight,\" said Tristram. \"I promise you your sword\nand shield shall be mine, and I will wear your shield in the sight of\nKing Arthur and all the Round Table, to let them see that Cornwall is\nnot a land of cowards.\"\nWhile he stood thus, hot with anger, the sails of the ships were spread,\nand the fleet sailed away, leaving the victor alone on the island. He\nwas deeply wounded and had bled profusely, and when he grew cold from\nrest could hardly move his limbs. So he seated himself upon a little\nhillock, while his wounds still bled freely. But Gouvernail, who had\nkept within sight in the vessel, and had seen the end of the combat, now\nhastened gladly to the island, where he bound up the young knight's\nwounds, and then brought him to the main land. Here King Mark and his\nbarons came in procession to meet him, their hearts full of joy and\ntriumph, and the victor was borne in glad procession to the castle of\nTintagil. When King Mark saw his deep and perilous wounds he wept\nheartily, and cried,--\n\"God help me, I would not for all my lands that my nephew should die!\"\nBut Tristram lay in groaning pain for more than a month, ever in danger\nof death from the spear-wound he had received from Sir Marhaus. For the\nspear-head was poisoned, and no leech in the land, with his most healing\nremedy, could overcome the deadly effect of that venom. The king sent\nfar and wide for skilled doctors, but none could be found whose skill\nwas of any avail. At length there came a learned woman to the court, who\ntold them plainly that the wounded man could never be cured except in\nthe country from which the venom came. He might be helped there, but\nnowhere else.\nWhen King Mark heard this he had a good vessel prepared, in which\nTristram was placed, under charge of Gouvernail, and so set sail for\nIreland, though all were strictly warned not to tell who they were or\nwhence they came.\nLong before this the fleet of Marhaus had arrived on the Irish coast,\nand the wounded knight been borne to the king's court, where all was\ndone that could be to save his life, but in vain.\nHe died soon of his deep wound, and when his head was examined by the\nsurgeons they found therein a piece of Tristram's sword, which had sunk\ndeep into his skull. This piece the queen, his sister, kept, for she was\nfull of revengeful thoughts, and she hoped by its aid to find the man to\nwhom he owed his death.\nCHAPTER II.\nLA BELLE ISOLDE.\nWhen Tristram arrived in Ireland, chance so provided that he landed near\na castle in which the king and queen, with all their court, then were.\nHe had brought his harp with him, and on his arrival sat up in his bed\nand played a merry lay, which gave joy to all that heard it.\nWord was quickly brought to the king that a harper of wonderful skill\nhad reached his shores, and he at once sent to have him brought to the\ncastle, where he asked him his name and whence he came.\n\"My name,\" replied the wounded knight, \"is Tramtrist; I am of the\ncountry of Lyonesse, and the wound from which I suffer was received in a\nbattle I fought for a lady who had been wronged.\"\n\"You shall have all the help here we can give you,\" said King Anguish.\n\"I have just met with a sad loss myself, for the best knight in my\nkingdom has been slain.\"\nThen he told Tristram of the battle with King Mark's champion, little\ndreaming that the knight to whom he spoke knew far more about it than he\ndid himself.\n\"As for your wound,\" said the king, \"my daughter, La Belle Isolde, is a\nleech of wonderful skill, and as you seem so worthy a man I shall put\nyou under her care.\"\nThis said, he departed, and sent his daughter to the knight; but no\nsooner did Tristram behold her than he received a deeper wound from love\nthan he had yet had from sword or spear. For La Belle Isolde was the\nmost beautiful lady in the world, a maiden of such wondrous charm and\ngrace that no land held her equal.\nWhen she examined the young knight's wound she quickly saw that he was\nsuffering from poison, but it was a venom with which she knew well how\nto deal, and she was not long in healing his deep hurt. In return for\nthis great service, he taught her the art of harping, while the love he\nfelt for her soon left some reflection of its warm presence in her soul.\nBut she already had a lover in the court, a worthy and valiant Saracen\nknight named Palamides, who sought her day after day, and made her many\ngifts, for his love for her was deep. He was well esteemed by the king\nand queen, and had declared his willingness to be made a Christian for\nthe sake of La Belle Isolde. In consequence there soon arose hot blood\nbetween Tristram and Palamides, for each feared that the other was a\nfavored rival.\nAnd now it happened that King Anguish announced a tournament to be held\nin honor of a cousin of his called the Lady of the Lawns, it being\ndeclared that the grand prize of the tournament should be the hand of\nthe lady and the lordship of her lands. The report of this tournament\nspread through England, Wales, and Scotland, reaching even to Brittany,\nand France, and many knights came to try their fortune in the lists.\n[Illustration: SIR TRISTRAM HARPING TO ISOLDE.]\nWhen the day drew near the fair Isolde told Tristram of the tournament,\nand expressed a warm desire that he would take part in it.\n\"Fair lady,\" he answered, \"I am as yet but feeble, and only for your\ngenerous care might be dead. I should be glad to obey any wish of yours,\nbut you know that I am not in condition for the lists.\"\n\"Ah, Tramtrist,\" she replied, \"I trust that you may be able to take part\nin this friendly joust. Palamides will be there, and I hoped that you\nwould meet him, for I fear that otherwise he will not find his equal.\"\n\"You do me great honor,\" he replied. \"You forget that I am but a young\nknight, and that in the only battle I have fought I was wounded nearly\nunto death. But for the love I have for you I shall attend the\ntournament, and jeopard my poor person for your sake, if you will only\nkeep my counsel and let no person know that I have entered the lists.\"\n\"That shall I,\" she replied, gladly. \"Horse and armor shall be ready for\nyou, and I but ask you to do your best. I am sure your best must win.\"\n\"With Isolde's eyes upon me I can do no less,\" answered Tristram, with a\nglad heart. \"I am at your command in all things, and for your love would\ndare tenfold this risk.\"\nWhen the day of the tournament came, Palamides appeared in the lists\nwith a black shield, and so many knights fell before him that all the\npeople marvelled at his prowess. Throughout the first day's fight he\nheld his own against all comers, bearing off the honors of the lists.\nAs for Tristram, he sat among the spectators, and when King Anguish\nasked him why he did not joust, replied that he was still too weak from\nhis wound.\nOn the morning of the next day Palamides came early into the field, and\nbegan the same career of conquest as on the day before. But in the midst\nof his good fortune there rode into the lists an unknown knight, who\nseemed to the spectators like an angel, for his horse and his armor were\nof the whiteness of snow.\nNo sooner had Palamides espied this stranger than he put his spear in\nrest and rode against him at furious speed. But there came a sudden\nchange in his fortunes, for the white knight struck him with such force\nas to hurl him from his horse to the ground.\nThen there arose a great noise and uproar among the people, for they had\ngrown to think that no knight could face the Saracen, and Gawaine and\nothers whom he had overthrown marvelled who this stranger knight could\nbe. But Isolde was glad at heart, for the love of Palamides was a burden\nto her, and well she knew the knight of the white arms.\nAs for the Palamides, he was so ashamed and disconcerted by his fall\nthat, on mounting his horse again, he sought privately to withdraw from\nthe field. But the white knight rode hastily after him and bade him\nturn, saying that he should not leave the lists so lightly. At these\nwords Palamides turned and struck a fierce sword-blow at the white\nchampion. But the latter put the stroke aside, and returned it with so\nmighty a buffet on the Saracen's head that he fell from his horse to the\nearth.\nThen Tristram--for he was the white knight--bade him yield and consent\nto do his command, or he would slay him. To this Palamides agreed, for\nhe was hurt past defence.\n\"This, then, is my command,\" said Tristram. \"First, upon pain of your\nlife, you shall cease your suit of the lady La Belle Isolde, and come\nnot near her. Second, for a year and a day you shall wear no armor or\nweapons of war. Promise me this, or you shall die.\"\n\"This is a bitter penance,\" cried Palamides. \"You shame me before the\nworld. For nothing less than life would I consent.\"\nBut he took the oath as Tristram commanded, and then in anger and\ndespite threw off his armor and cut it into pieces, flinging the\nfragments away. Then he departed, weighed down with sadness and shame.\nThis done, Tristram left the lists, where he could find no knight\nwilling to fight with him, and rode to the private postern of the castle\nwhence he had come to the field. Here he found the fair Isolde awaiting\nhim with a joyous face and a voice of thanks, praising him so highly\nthat the knight was abashed with modest shame, though gladness filled\nhis heart. And when she had told the king and queen that it was\nTramtrist who had vanquished the Saracen, they treated him as if he had\nbeen of royal blood, for he had shown such prowess as Lancelot himself\ncould not exceed.\nAfter this Tristram dwelt long in the castle, highly esteemed by the\nking and queen, and loved by La Belle Isolde, whose heart he had fully\nwon by his prowess in the tournament. Those were days of joy and\ngladness, too soon, alas to end, for he loved her with all his soul, and\nsaw his heaven in her eyes, while for all his love she gave him the warm\ndevotion of a true heart in return.\nBut fate at length brought this dream of happiness to an end. For on a\nday when Tristram was in the bath, attended by his squire Gouvernail,\nchance brought the queen and Isolde into the chamber of the knight. On\nthe bed lay his sword, and this the queen picked up and held it out for\nIsolde's admiration, as the blade which had done such noble work in the\ntournament.\nBut as she held it so she saw that there was a gap in the edge, a piece\nbeing broken out about a foot from the point. At sight of this she let\nthe weapon fall, while her heart gave a great bound of pain and anger.\n\"Liar and traitor, have I found you at last!\" she cried, in an outbreak\nof rage. \"It is this false villain that slew my brother Marhaus!\"\nWith these words she ran in haste from the chamber, leaving Isolde\ntrembling with dread for her lover, for though she knew not the cause of\nthe queen's rage, she knew well how cruel she could be in her passion.\nQuickly the queen returned, bringing with her the fragment of steel that\nhad been found in Marhaus's skull, and, snatching up the sword, she\nfitted this into the broken place. It fitted so closely that the blade\nseemed whole. Then with a cry of passionate rage the furious woman ran\nto where Tristram was in the bath, and would have run him through had\nnot Gouvernail caught her in his arms and wrested the sword from her\nhand.\nFailing in this deadly intent, she tore herself from the squire's grasp\nand flew to the king, throwing herself on her knees before him and\ncrying,--\n\"Oh, my lord and husband! you have here in your house that murderous\nwretch who killed my brother, the noble Sir Marhaus!\"\n\"Ha! can that be?\" said the king. \"Where is he?\"\n\"It is Tramtrist,\" she replied. \"It is that villanous knight whom our\ndaughter healed, and who has shamefully abused our hospitality.\" And she\ntold him by what strange chance she had made this discovery.\n\"Alas!\" said the king, \"what you tell me grieves me to the heart. I\nnever saw a nobler knight than he, and I would give my crown not to have\nlearned this. I charge you to leave him to me. I will deal with him as\nhonor and justice demand.\"\nThen the king sought Tristram in his chamber, and found him there fully\narmed and ready to mount his horse.\n\"So, Tramtrist, you are ready for the field,\" he said. \"I tell you this,\nthat it will not avail you to match your strength against my power. But\nI honor you for your nobility and prowess, and it would shame me to slay\nmy guest in my court; therefore, I will let you depart in safety, on\ncondition that you tell me your name and that of your father, and if it\nwas truly you that slew my brother, Sir Marhaus.\"\n\"Truly it was so,\" said Tristram. \"But what I did was done in honor and\njustice, as you well know. He came as a champion and defied all the\nknights of Cornwall to battle, and I fought him for the honor of\nCornwall. It was my first battle, for I was made a knight that very day.\nAnd no man living can say that I struck him foully.\"\n\"I doubt me not that you acted in all knightly honor,\" answered the\nking. \"But you cannot stay in my country against the ill-will of my\nbarons, my wife, and her kindred.\"\n\"As for who I am,\" continued the knight, \"my father is King Meliodas of\nLyonesse, and my uncle King Mark of Cornwall. My name is Tristram; but\nwhen I was sent to your country to be cured of my wound I called myself\nTramtrist, for I feared your anger. I thank you deeply for the kind\nwelcome you have given me, and the goodness my lady, your daughter, has\nshown me. It may happen that you will win more by my life than by my\ndeath, for in England I may yet do you some knightly service. This I\npromise you, as I am a true knight, that in all places I shall hold\nmyself the servant and knight of my lady, your daughter, and shall never\nfail to do in her honor and service all that a knight may. Also I\nbeseech you that I may take leave of your barons and knights, and pray\nyou to grant me leave to bid adieu to your daughter.\"\n\"I cannot well refuse you this,\" said the king.\nWith this permission, Tristram sought La Belle Isolde, and sadly bade\nher farewell, telling her who he was, why he had changed his name, and\nfor what purpose he had come to Ireland.\n\"Had it not been for your care and skill I should now have been dead,\"\nhe said.\n\"Gentle sir,\" she sadly replied, \"I am woeful indeed that you should go,\nfor I never saw man to whom I felt such good-will as to you.\"\nAnd she wept bitterly as she held out her hand in adieu. But Tristram\ntook her in his arms and kissed away her tears.\n\"I love you, Isolde, as my soul,\" he said. \"If this despite of fate\nshall stand between you and me, this I promise, to be your knight while\nlife is left to me.\"\n\"And this I promise,\" answered Isolde, \"that if I am married within\nthese seven years it shall only be by your assent! If they stand between\nme and my love, at least they shall not force me to wed against your\nwill.\"\nThen she gave Tristram a ring and received one from him in return, and\nhe departed from her with a pain as if the parting wrenched their hearts\nasunder, while she beheld him go with such tears and lamentation that it\nseemed as if her faithful heart would break.\nTristram next sought the great hall of the court, where were assembled\nthe barons of King Anguish, and took his leave of them all, saying,--\n\"Fair lords, fortune wills that I must leave you. If there be any man\nhere whom I have offended or aggrieved let him make complaint now, and I\nshall amend the wrong so far as it is in my power. If there be any who\nmay incline to say a wrongful thing of me behind my back, let him speak\nnow, and I will make it good with him, body against body.\"\nBut no man spoke in reply. There were knights there of the blood of Sir\nMarhaus and the queen, but none that cared to have to do in the field\nagainst Sir Tristram.\nSo bidding them all adieu, he departed, and took ship for Tintagil, in\nCornwall.\nCHAPTER III.\nTHE WAGER OF BATTLE.\nWhen tidings came to King Mark that Tristram had returned to Cornwall,\ncured of his wounds, the king and all his barons were glad, and on the\narrival of the knight he was treated with the greatest honor. No long\ntime passed before he rode to the castle of his father, King Meliodas,\nwho received him with fatherly love and pride, while the queen greeted\nhim with the warmest joy. And that their knightly son should have\nwherewithal to make a fair show in the world, they parted with much of\ntheir lands and wealth to him, endowing him with broad estates and\nlordly castles.\n[Illustration: A CASTLE OF CORNWALL.]\nAfterwards, at his father's desire, who wished his son to gain all\nhonor, Tristram returned to the court of Cornwall, where he was gladly\nwelcomed. And here, though his love for La Belle Isolde lay deep in his\nheart, it was dimmed by later feelings, for there were many fair ladies\nat the court, and the young knight was at that age when the heart is\nsoft and tender.\nIn the end it happened that a jealousy and unfriendliness arose between\nKing Mark and him. This grew with time, and in the end the king, who was\nbase and treacherous of soul, waylaid Tristram, aided by two knights of\nhis counsel, and sought to slay him. But so valiantly did he defend\nhimself that he hurled the three to the earth, wounding the king so\ndeeply that he was long in recovering.\nThe king now grew to hate his young guest bitterly, and laid plans to\ndestroy him. Finally, it occurred to him to send Tristram to Ireland for\nLa Belle Isolde, whose beauty and goodness the young knight had praised\nso warmly that King Mark had it in his heart to wed her. But his main\npurpose in sending Tristram to Ireland was to compass his destruction,\nfor he knew how he was hated there.\nTristram was not blind to the danger into which this mission might bring\nhim, and suspected the purpose of the king, but his love of adventure\nwas so great that for it he was ready to dare any risk.\nAs for Isolde, absence and affection for other ladies had dimmed his\npassion for her, so that for the time his love was forgotten, and he\ncame to look upon it as a youthful episode not knowing how deeply it\nstill lay under all these later feelings. He, therefore, accepted the\nmission, and made ready to go in royal state.\nHe selected for his companions a number of the ablest knights of the\ncourt, and saw that they were richly arrayed and appointed, with the\nhope that such a noble train might win him favor at the Irish court.\nWith this array he departed, and set sail for the coast of Ireland.\nBut when they had reached the mid-channel a tempest arose that blew the\nfleet back towards the coast of England, and, as chance had it, they\ncame ashore near Camelot. Here they were forced to land, for their ships\nwere no longer seaworthy. Tristram, therefore, set up his pavilion upon\nthe coast of Camelot, and hung his shield before it.\nThat same day two knights of Arthur's court, Sir Morganor and Sir Hector\nde Maris, chanced to ride that way, and, seeing the shield, they touched\nit with their spears, bidding the knight of the pavilion to come out and\njoust, if he had an inclination to do so.\n\"I hold myself ready alike for sport or battle,\" answered Tristram. \"If\nyou tarry a little while, you will find me ready to meet you.\"\nThis said, he armed himself, and mounting his horse rode against his two\nchallengers with such fortune that he first smote Sir Hector to the\nearth, and then Sir Morganor, felling them both with one spear. Rising\npainfully to their feet, the disconcerted knights asked Tristram who he\nwas and of what country.\n\"My noble sirs, I am a knight of Cornwall,\" he answered. \"You have been\nin the habit of scorning the warriors of my country, but you see we have\nsome good blood there.\"\n\"A Cornish knight!\" cried Hector. \"That I should be overcome by a knight\nfrom that land! I am not fit to wear armor more.\" And in despite he put\noff his armor and left the place on foot, too full of shame to ride.\nAs it turned out, fortune had worked more favorably for Tristram than he\nsupposed. For King Anguish was then on his way to Camelot, whither he\nhad been summoned by King Arthur as his vassal, for a purpose which he\nwas not told.\nIt happened that when he reached Camelot neither King Arthur nor\nLancelot was there to give judgment on the charge against him, but the\nkings of Carados and of Scotland were left as judges. And when King\nAnguish demanded why he had been summoned, Blamor de Ganis, a Knight of\nthe Round Table, accused him of treason, declaring that he had\ntreacherously slain a cousin of his at his court in Ireland.\nThis accusation threw King Anguish into great trouble, for he did not\ndream that he had been brought for such a purpose, and knew well that\nthere was but one answer to make to such a charge. For the custom in\nthose days was that any man who was accused of murder or treason should\ndecide the case by the Wager of Battle, fighting his accuser to the\ndeath, or finding a knight who would take up his quarrel. And murders of\nall kinds in those days were called treason.\nKing Anguish was thrown into a sorrowful frame of mind, for he knew that\nBlamor de Ganis was a knight of prowess beyond his own strength, nor had\nhe a suitable champion in his train. He therefore withheld his answer,\nand the judges gave him three days for his decision.\nAll this was told to Tristram by his squire Gouvernail, who had heard it\nfrom people of the country.\n\"Truly,\" said Tristram, \"no man in England could bring me better\ntidings, for the king of Ireland will be glad of my aid, since no knight\nof this country not of Arthur's court will dare fight with Blamor. As I\nwish to win the good will of King Anguish, I will take on myself his\nbattle. So, Gouvernail, go to the king for me, and tell him there is a\nchampion ready to assume his cause.\"\nGouvernail thereupon went to Camelot, and greeted King Anguish, who\nreturned his greeting and asked his errand.\n\"There is a knight near at hand who desires to speak with you,\" was the\nreply. \"He bade me say that he was ready to do you knightly service.\"\n\"What knight may he be?\" asked the king.\n\"Sir, it is Tristram of Lyonesse. For the grace you showed him in your\ncountry he is ready to repay you here, and to take the field as your\nchampion.\"\n\"God be praised for this welcome news!\" cried the king. \"Come, good\nfellow, show me the way to Sir Tristram. Blamor will find he has no boy\nto handle.\"\nHe mounted a hackney, and with few followers rode under Gouvernail's\nguidance till they came to Tristram's pavilion. The knight, when he saw\nhis visitor, ran to him and would have held his stirrup, but this the\nking would not permit. He leaped lightly from his horse and took\nTristram warmly in his arms.\n\"My gracious lord,\" said Tristram, \"I have not forgot the goodness which\nyou formerly showed me, and which at that time I promised to requite by\nknightly service if it should ever be in my power.\"\n\"I have great need of you, indeed, gentle sir,\" answered the king.\n\"Never before was I in such deep necessity of knightly aid.\"\n\"How so, my noble lord?\" asked Tristram.\n\"I shall tell you. I am held answerable for the death of a knight who\nwas akin to Lancelot, and for which I must fight his relative, Blamor de\nGanis, or find a knight in my stead. And well you know the knights of\nKing Ban's blood are hard men to overcome in battle.\"\n\"That may be,\" said Tristram, \"yet I dread not to meet them. For the\nhonor which you showed me in Ireland, and for the sake of your gracious\ndaughter La Belle Isolde, I will take the battle on two conditions:\nfirst, that you swear that you are in the right, and had no hand in the\nknight's death; second, that if I win in this fight you grant me the\nreward I may ask, if you deem it reasonable.\"\n\"Truly, I am innocent, and you shall have whatever you ask,\" said the\nking.\n\"Then I accept the combat,\" said Tristram. \"You may return to Camelot\nand make answer that your champion is ready, for I shall die in your\nquarrel rather than be recreant. Blamor is said to be a hardy knight,\nbut I would meet him were he the best warrior that now bears shield and\nspear.\"\nKing Anguish then departed and told the judges that he had his champion\nready, and was prepared for the wager of battle at any time that pleased\nthem. In consequence, Blamor and Tristram were sent for to hear the\ncharge. But when the knights of the court learned that the champion was\nhe who had vanquished Marhaus and Palamides, there was much debate and\nshaking of the head, and many who had felt sure of the issue now grew\nfull of doubt, the more so when they learned the story of Hector de\nMaris and his companion.\nBut the combatants took their charge in all due dignity, and then\nwithdrew to make ready for the battle. Blamor was attended by his\nbrother Sir Bleoberis, who said to him, feelingly,--\n\"Remember, dear brother, of what kin we are, being cousins to Lancelot\ndu Lake, and that there has never been a man of our blood but would\nrather die than be shamed in battle.\"\n\"Have no doubt of me,\" answered Blamor. \"I know well this knight's\nrecord; but if he should strike me down through his great might, he\nshall slay me before I will yield as recreant.\"\n\"You will find him the strongest knight you have ever had to do with. I\nknow that well, for I had once a bout with him at King Mark's court. So\nGod speed you!\"\n\"In God and my cause I trust,\" answered Blamor.\nThen he took his horse and rode to one end of the lists, and Tristram to\nthe other, where, putting their spears in rest, they spurred their\ngallant steeds and rushed together with the speed of lightning. The\nresult was that Blamor and his horse together were hurled to the earth,\nwhile Tristram kept his seat. Then Blamor drew his sword and threw his\nshield before him, bidding Tristram to alight.\n\"Though a horse has failed me,\" he said, \"I trust that the earth will\nstand me in good stead.\"\nWithout hesitation Tristram consented, springing to the ground, sword in\nhand, and the combatants broke at once into fierce battle, fighting like\nmadmen, till all who saw them marvelled at their courage and strength.\nNever had knights been seen to fight more fiercely, for Blamor was so\nfurious and incessant in his attacks, and Tristram so active in his\ndefence, that it was a wonder they had breath to stand. But at last\nTristram smote his antagonist such a blow on the helm that he fell upon\nhis side, while his victor stood looking grimly down upon him.\nWhen Blamor could gain breath to speak, he said,--\n\"Sir Tristram de Lyonesse, I require thee, as thou art a true knight, to\nslay me, for I would not live in shame, though I might be lord of the\nearth. You must slay me, indeed, if you would win the field, for I shall\nnever speak the hateful word of surrender.\"\nWhen Tristram heard this knightly defiance he knew not what to do. The\nthought of slaying one of Lancelot's blood hurt him sorely, but his duty\nas a champion required him to force his antagonist to yield, or else to\nslay him. In deep distress of mind he went to the kingly judges and\nkneeled before them, beseeching them for the sake of King Arthur and\nLancelot, and for their own credit, to take this matter out of his\nhands.\n\"It were a pity and shame that the noble knight who lies yonder should\nbe slain,\" he said, \"yet he refuses to yield. As for the king I fight\nfor, I shall require him, as I am his true knight and champion, to have\nmercy on the vanquished.\"\n\"That yield I freely,\" said King Anguish. \"And I heartily pray the\njudges to deal with him mercifully.\"\nThen the judges called Bleoberis to them and asked his advice.\n\"My lords,\" he replied, \"my brother is beaten, I acknowledge, yet,\nthough Sir Tristram has vanquished his body, he has not conquered his\nheart, and I thank God he is not shamed by his defeat. And rather than\nhe should be shamed I require you to bid Tristram to slay him.\"\n\"That shall not be,\" replied the judges. \"Both his adversaries, the king\nand his champion, have pity on him, and you should have no less.\"\n\"I leave his fate to you,\" said Bleoberis. \"Do what seems to you well.\"\nThen, after further consultation, the judges gave their verdict that the\nvanquished knight should live, and by their advice Tristram and\nBleoberis took him up and brought him to King Anguish, who forgave and\nmade friends with him. Then Blamor and Tristram kissed each other and\nthe two brothers took oath that neither of them would ever fight with\ntheir noble antagonist, who took the same oath. And from the day of\nthat battle there was peace and love between Tristram and all the\nkindred of Lancelot forever.\nThe happy close of this contest made great rejoicing in Arthur's court,\nKing Anguish and his champion being treated with all the honor that\ncould be laid upon them, and for many days thereafter feasting and\nmerry-making prevailed. In the end the king and his champion sailed for\nIreland with great state and ceremony, while many noble knights attended\nto bid them farewell.\nWhen they reached Ireland, King Anguish spread far and wide the story of\nwhat Tristram had done for him, and he was everywhere greeted with honor\nand delight. Even the queen forgot her anger, and did all that lay in\nher power to give her lord's champion a glad welcome to the court.\nAs for La Belle Isolde, she met Tristram with the greatest joy and\ngladness. Absence had dimmed the love in both their hearts, and it no\nlonger burned as of yore, yet only time and opportunity were needed to\nmake it as warm as ever.\nCHAPTER IV.\nTHE DRAUGHT OF LOVE.\nAt length there came a day, after Tristram had dwelt long at King\nAnguish's court, that the king asked him why he had not demanded his\nboon, since the royal word had been passed that whatever he asked\nshould be his without fail.\n\"I asked you not,\" said Tristram, \"since it is a boon that will give me\nno pleasure, but so much pain that with every day that passes I grow\nless inclined to ask it.\"\n\"Then why ask it at all?\"\n\"That I must, for I have passed my word of honor, and the word of a\nknight is his best possession. What I am forced to demand, then, is that\nyou will give me the hand of La Belle Isolde,--not for myself, and that\nis what makes my heart so sore, but for my uncle, King Mark, who desires\nto wed her, and for whom I have promised to demand her.\"\n\"Alas!\" cried the king, \"that you should ask me so despiteful a boon. I\nhad rather than all King Mark's dominions that you should wed her\nyourself.\"\n\"I never saw woman whom I would rather wed,\" he replied. \"But if I\nshould do so I would be the shame of the world forever, as a false\nknight, recreant to his promise. Therefore, I must stand by my word, and\nhold you to your boon, that you will give me La Belle Isolde to go with\nme to Cornwall, there to be wedded to King Mark, my uncle.\"\n\"As for that, I cannot deny you. She shall go with you, but as to what\nmay happen thereafter, I leave that for you to decide. If you choose to\nwed her yourself, that will give me the greatest joy. But if you\ndetermine to give her to King Mark, the right rests with you. I have\npassed my word, though I wish now that I had not.\"\nThen Isolde was told of what had passed, and bade to make ready to go\nwith Tristram, a lady named Bragwaine going with her as chief\ngentlewoman, while many others were selected as her attendants. When the\npreparations were fully made, the queen, Isolde's mother, gave to Dame\nBragwaine and Gouvernail a golden flask containing a drink, and charged\nthem that on the day of Isolde's wedding they should give King Mark that\ndrink, bidding him to quaff it to the health of La Belle Isolde, and her\nto quaff his health in return.\n\"It is a love draught,\" continued the queen, \"and if they shall drink it\nI undertake to say that each shall love the other for all the days of\ntheir life.\"\nNot many days passed before Tristram took to the sea, with the fair\nmaiden who had been committed to his charge, and they sailed away on a\nmission that had for them both far more of sadness than of joy, for\ntheir love grew as the miles passed.\nOne day, as they sat together in the cabin, it happened that they became\nthirsty, and by chance they saw on a shelf near them a little golden\nflask, filled with what by the color seemed to be a noble wine. Tristram\ntook it down and said, with a laugh,--\n\"Madam Isolde, here is the best drink that ever you drank, a precious\ndraught which Dame Bragwaine, your maiden, and Gouvernail, my servant,\nare keeping for themselves. Let us drink from their private store.\"\nThen with laughter and merriment they drank freely from the flask, and\nboth thought that they had never tasted draught so sweet and delicious\nin their lives before. But when the magic wine got into their blood,\nthey looked upon each other with new eyes, for their hearts were\nsuddenly filled with such passionate love as they had not dreamed that\nheart could feel. Tristram thought that never had mortal eyes gazed upon\na maiden of such heavenly charms, and Isolde that there was never man\nborn so grand and graceful as the knight of her love.\nThen all at once she fell into bitter weeping as the thought of her\ndestiny came upon her, and Tristram took her in his arms and kissed her\nsweet lips again and again, speaking words of love that brought some\ncomfort to her love-sick heart. And thus it was between them day by day\nto the end of their voyage, for a love had grown between them of such\nfervent depth that it could never leave them while blood flowed in their\nveins.\nSuch magic power had the draught which the queen had prepared for King\nMark, and which the unthinking lovers drank in fate's strange error. It\nwas the bitter-sweet of love; for it was destined to bring them the\ndeepest joy and sorrow in the years to come.\nMany days passed before the lovers reached Cornwall, and strange\nadventures met them by the way, of which we have but little space to\nspeak. For chance brought them to land near a castle named Pleure, or\nthe weeping castle. It was the custom of the lord of that castle, when\nany knight passed by with a lady, to take them prisoners. Then, when the\nknight's lady was compared with the lady of the castle, whichever was\nthe least lovely of the two was put to death, and the knight was made to\nfight with the lord of the castle for the other, and was put to death if\nvanquished. Through this cruel custom many a noble knight and fair lady\nhad been slain, for the castle lord was of great prowess and his lady of\nstriking beauty.\nIt chanced that Tristram and Isolde demanded shelter at this castle, and\nthat they were made prisoners under its cruel custom. At this outrage\nTristram grew bitterly indignant, and demanded passionately what it\nmeant, as honor demanded that those who sought harbor should be received\nhospitably as guests, and not despitefully as prisoners. In answer he\nwas told the custom of the castle, and that he must fight for his lady\nand his liberty.\n\"It is a foul and shameful custom,\" he replied. \"I do not fear that your\nlord's lady will surpass mine in beauty, nor that I cannot hold my own\nin the field, but I like to have a voice in my own doings. Tell him,\nhowever, if he is so hot for battle, that I shall be ready for the test\nto-morrow morning, and may heaven be on the side of truth and justice.\"\nWhen morning came the test of beauty was made, and the loveliness of\nIsolde shone so far beyond that of the castle lady that Breunor, the\nlord, was forced to admit it. And now Tristram grew stern and pitiless,\nfor he said that this lady had consented to the death of many innocent\nrivals, and richly deserved death as a punishment for the ruthless deeds\ndone in her behalf, and to gratify her cruel vanity. Thereupon her head\nwas struck off without mercy.\nFull of anger at this, Breunor attacked Tristram with all his strength\nand fury, and a long and fiery combat took place, yet in the end he fell\ndead beneath the sword of the knight of Cornwall.\nBut, as it happened, the castle lord had a valiant son, named Sir\nGalahad the high prince, a knight who in after years was to do deeds of\ngreat emprise. Word was brought to him of the death of his father and\nmother, and he rode in all haste to the castle, having with him that\nrenowned warrior known as the king with the hundred knights.\nReaching the castle, Galahad fiercely challenged Tristram to battle, and\na mighty combat ensued. But at the last Galahad was forced to give way\nbefore the deadly strokes of his antagonist, whose strength seemed to\ngrow with his labor.\nWhen the king with the hundred knights saw this, he rushed upon Tristram\nwith many of his followers, attacking him in such force as no single\nknight could hope to endure.\n\"This is no knightly deed,\" cried Tristram to Galahad. \"I deemed you a\nnoble knight, but it is a shameful act to let all your men set on me at\nonce.\"\n\"However that be,\" said Galahad, \"you have done me a great wrong, and\nmust yield or die.\"\n\"Then I must yield, since you treat me so unfairly. I accepted your\nchallenge, not that of all your followers. To yield thus puts me to no\ndishonor.\"\nAnd he took his sword by the point and put the pommel in the hand of his\nopponent. But despite this action the king and his knights came on, and\nmade a second attack on the unarmed warrior.\n\"Let him be,\" cried Sir Galahad. \"I have given him his life, and no man\nshall harm him.\"\n\"Shame is it in you to say so!\" cried the king. \"Has he not slain your\nfather and mother?\"\n\"For that I cannot blame him greatly. My father held him in prison, and\nforced him to fight to the death. The custom was a wicked and cruel one,\nand could have but one end. Long ago, it drove me from my father's\ncastle, for I could not favor it by any presence.\"\n\"It was a sinful custom, truly,\" said the king.\n\"So I deem it, and it would be a pity that this brave knight should die\nin such a cause, for I know no one save Lancelot du Lake who is his\nequal. Now, fair knight, will you tell me your name?\"\n\"My name is Tristram of Lyonesse, and I am on my way to the court of\nKing Mark of Cornwall, taking to him La Belle Isolde, the daughter of\nKing Anguish of Ireland, whom he desires to wed.\"\n\"Then you are welcome to these marches, and all that I demand of you is\nthat you promise to go to Lancelot du Lake, and become his fellow. I\nshall promise that no such custom shall ever be used in this castle\nagain.\"\n\"You will do well,\" said Tristram. \"I would have you know that when I\nbegan to fight with you I fancied you were Lancelot. And I promise, as\nsoon as I may, to seek him, for of all the knights in the world I most\ndesire his fellowship.\"\n[Illustration: TRISTRAM AND THE FAIR ISOLDE.]\nSoon afterwards Tristram and his fair companion resumed their journey,\nand in due time reached Cornwall. But as they came near Tintagil their\nhearts were ready to break, for that magic draught was still in their\nveins, and they loved each other with a love that was past all telling.\nThoughts came into Tristram's heart to marry the maiden in despite of\ncustom and his plighted word, and gladly would she have consented\nthereto. But strong as was his love, his honor was stronger, and Isolde,\ndeeply as she grieved, could not ask him to break his word. And thus for\nmany long miles they journeyed onward side by side in silence, their\neyes alone speaking, but they telling a story of love and grief to which\nthey dared not give words, lest their hearts' desire should burst all\nboundaries of faith and honor, and men's condemnation come to them both.\nSo they came with drooping hearts to the court of King Mark, where the\nking and his barons received them with state and ceremony. Quickly\nthereafter the wedding took place, for the king looked with eyes of warm\napproval upon the beautiful maiden, and prepared richly and nobly for\nthe ceremony, at which many noble knights and lords were present, but\nfrom which Tristram withdrew in the deepest anguish, as he could not\nendure the sight. And so his knightly word was kept, though to keep it\nalmost broke his heart.\nCHAPTER V.\nTHE PERILS OF TRUE LOVE.\nThe marriage of King Mark with La Belle Isolde was celebrated with rich\nfeasts and royal tournaments, and for many days pleasure ruled supreme\nat Tintagil Castle, whither noble guests came and went. Among those who\ncame was Palamides the Saracen, drawn thither by his love of Isolde,\nwhich his overthrow by Tristram had not banished from his heart.\nStrange events soon followed. Two ladies of Isolde's train, who envied\nand hated Dame Bragwaine, laid a plot for her destruction. She was sent\ninto the forest to obtain herbs, and there was met by men sent by her\nenemies, who bound her hand and foot to a tree, where she remained for\nthree days. By good fortune, at the end of that time, she was found by\nPalamides, who saved her from death, and took her to a nunnery that she\nmight recover from her pain and exhaustion.\nThe disappearance of Dame Bragwaine troubled the queen greatly, for she\nloved her most of all women, and as the days went by and she returned\nnot, the grief of Isolde grew deep. She wandered into the forest, which\nhad been searched in vain for the lost lady, and, plunged in sad\nthought, seated herself by a woodland spring, where she moaned bitterly\nfor her favorite.\nAs she sat there Palamides appeared, and, after listening awhile to her\nsad complaining, said,--\n\"Queen Isolde, I know well the cause of your grief, and if you will\ngrant the boon I shall ask, I promise to bring you Dame Bragwaine, safe\nand sound.\"\nThe queen was so glad to hear this, that without thought she agreed to\ngrant his wish, thinking more of the lost lady than of what he might\ndemand.\n\"I trust to your promise,\" said Palamides. \"Remain here half an hour and\nyou shall see her.\"\n\"I shall remain,\" said the queen.\nPalamides then rode away, and within the time mentioned returned with\nthe maiden, whom Isolde clasped to her heart with happy tears.\n\"Now, madam, I have kept my word,\" said Palamides; \"you must keep\nyours.\"\n\"I promised you hastily,\" answered the queen; \"and I warn you now that I\nwill grant you nothing evil; so beware of your asking.\"\n\"My boon will keep till I meet you before the king,\" said Palamides.\n\"What it is I shall not tell you now.\"\nThen the queen rode home with her maiden, and Palamides followed close\nafter, entering the court while Isolde was telling the king of what had\nhappened.\n\"Sir king,\" said the knight, \"your lady has told you of the boon she\nproffered me. The honor of knighthood requires that you shall make her\nword good.\"\n\"Why made you this promise, my lady?\" asked the king.\n\"I did so for grief at the loss of Dame Bragwaine, and for joy to\nrecover her.\"\n\"Then what you have hastily proffered you must truly perform. The word\nof king and queen is not to be lightly spoken or lightly broken.\"\n\"What I demand is this,\" said Palamides, \"that you deliver to me your\nqueen, to lead her where I wish and govern her as I will.\"\nAt this bold request the king frowned deeply, and anger leaped to his\nlips. But his word had been passed, and the thought came to him that he\ncould trust to Tristram quickly to rescue the queen, and punish this\nbold adventurer.\n\"Take her if you will,\" he cried. \"But I tell you this, you will not\nkeep her long, and that you are asking a dangerous gift.\"\n\"As for that, I shall dare the risk.\"\nThen he took Isolde by the hand, and led her from the court, and from\nthe presence of the king and his barons, not one of whom moved, though\nthe queen looked round with suppliant eyes. Leading her to his\nwar-horse, he set her behind him on the saddle, and rode proudly away.\nNo sooner had they gone than the king sent for Tristram, but by despite\nhe was nowhere to be found, for he was in the forest hunting, as was\nalways his custom when not engaged in feats of arms.\n\"What shall be done?\" cried the king. \"Can no one find Tristram? My\nhonor will be shamed if the Saracen be not met and overcome.\"\n\"I shall follow him, and seek to rescue the queen,\" said a knight named\nLambegus, one of Tristram's followers.\n\"I thank you, Sir Lambegus. If I live, I will remember the service.\"\nSo Lambegus got to horse and followed Palamides hotly, but to his own\nsorrow, as it proved, for he was no match for the Saracen, who soon laid\nhim upon the earth wounded nearly to death.\nBut while the battle went on, Isolde, who had been set upon the earth\npending the combat, ran into the forest, and continued to fly till she\ncame to a deep spring, where in her grief she sought to drown herself.\nBut good fortune brought thither a knight named Sir Adtherp, who had a\ncastle near by. Seeing the despair of the queen, he led her to his\ncastle, and then, learning her story, took upon himself her battle, and\nrode forth to meet the Saracen.\nBut he, too, fared badly, for Palamides wounded him severely, and made\nhim tell what he had done with the queen, and where his castle might be\nfound.\nPalamides, leaving him bleeding on the ground, rode in all haste to the\ncastle. But as he approached, Isolde saw him from a window, and gave\norders that the gate should be shut and the drawbridge raised. When\nPalamides came up and saw that the castle was closed against him, and\nentrance denied, he took the saddle and bridle from his horse and put\nhim to pasture, while he seated himself before the gate like a man who\ncared not what became of him.\nMeanwhile, Tristram had returned from the hunt, and when he learned what\nhad happened, he was half beside himself with anger.\n\"Lambegus is no match for the Saracen,\" he said. \"Would I had been here\nin his stead. The unchristianed villain shall answer for this outrage if\nhe can be found.\"\nThen he armed himself in all haste, and rode into the forest. Not far\nhad he gone when he found Lambegus, sorely wounded, and had him borne to\na place of shelter. Somewhat farther on he found Adtherp, also hurt and\nbleeding, and from him he learned what had taken place.\n\"Where is my lady now?\" he asked.\n\"Safe in my castle,\" said the knight. \"And there she can hold herself\nsecure against the Saracen.\"\n\"Then I owe you much,\" said Tristram. \"Trust me to see that some of your\nmen be sent to your aid.\"\nHe continued his journey till he came to the castle, and here he saw\nPalamides sitting by the gate fast asleep, with his horse grazing beside\nhim.\n\"The misbegotten rogue takes life easy,\" said Tristram. \"Go rouse him,\nGouvernail. Bid him make ready to answer for his outrage.\"\nBut he was in such deep slumber that Gouvernail called to him in vain.\nHe returned and told Tristram that the knight was either asleep or mad.\n\"Go again and tell him that I, his mortal foe, am here.\"\nGouvernail now prodded him with the butt of his spear, and cried,--\n\"Arise, Sir Palamides, and make ready, for yonder is Sir Tristram, and\nhe sends you word that he is your mortal foe.\"\nThen Palamides rose without a word of answer, and saddled and bridled\nhis horse, upon which he sprang, putting his spear in rest. But he\nremained not long in his saddle, for when they met in mid career,\nTristram smote him so hard a blow as to thrust him over his horse's tail\nto the ground.\nThen they drew their swords and fought with all their strength, for the\nlady whom they both loved looked upon them from the walls, and well-nigh\nswooned for grief and distress on seeing how sorely each was hurt.\n\"Alas!\" she cried, \"one of them I love, and the other loves me. It would\nbe a great pity to see Sir Palamides slain, much as he has troubled me,\nand slain he will be if this fight goes on.\"\nThen, moved by her tender heart, she went down and besought Tristram to\nfight no more.\n\"What mean you?\" he asked. \"Would you have me shamed?\"\n\"I desire not your dishonor; but for my sake I would have you spare this\nunhappy knight, whose love for me has made him mad.\"\n\"As you wish,\" he replied. \"The fight shall end, since you desire it.\"\n\"As for you, Sir Palamides,\" she said, \"I command that you shall go out\nof this country while I am in it.\"\n\"If it must be, it must,\" he answered, in bitter anguish; \"but it is\nsorely against my will, for not to see you is not to live.\"\n\"Take your way to the court of King Arthur,\" she said, \"and there\nrecommend me to Queen Guenever. Tell her that Isolde says that in all\nthe land there are but four lovers, and that these are Lancelot du Lake\nand Queen Guenever, and Tristram de Lyonesse and Queen Isolde.\"\nThis message filled Palamides with the greatest heaviness of heart, and\nmounting his steed he rode away moaning bitterly. But Isolde was full of\ngladness in being well rid of her troublesome lover, and Tristram in\nhaving rescued her from his rival. So he brought her back to King Mark,\nand there was great joy over her home-coming, while the king and all the\ncourt showered honors on the successful champion. Sir Lambegus was\nbrought back to the court and put under the care of skilful leeches, and\nfor a long time joy and good-will reigned.\nBut Tristram had in King Mark's court a bitter foe, who sought to work\nhim injury, though he was his near cousin. This traitor, Sir Andred by\nname, knew well of the love between Tristram and Isolde, and that they\nhad secret meetings and tender conversations, so he lay in wait to spy\nupon them and slander them before the court.\nA day came at length when Andred observed Tristram in secret parley with\nIsolde at a window, and he hastened to the king and poisoned his mind\nwith a false report of what he had seen. King Mark, on hearing this,\nburst into a fury of passion, and seizing a sword, ran to where Tristram\nstood. Here he violently berated him as a traitor, and struck at him a\nfurious blow.\nBut Tristram took the sword-point under his arm, and ran in on the king,\nwresting the weapon from his hand.\n\"Where are my knights and men?\" cried the enraged king. \"I charge you to\nkill this traitor!\"\nBut of those present not a man would move. When Tristram saw this, he\nshook the sword threateningly against the king, and took a step forward\nas if he would have slain him. At this movement King Mark fled, while\nTristram followed, and struck him so strong a blow with the flat of the\nsword on his neck that he was flung prostrate on his nose. Then Tristram\nhastened to his room and armed himself, after which he took his horse\nand his squire and rode into the forest.\nHere the valorous champion killed some of the knights whom the king had\nsent against him and put to flight thirty more, so that King Mark in\nfear and fury called a council of his lords, and asked what was to be\ndone with his rebellious subject.\n\"Our counsel is,\" said the barons, \"that you send for Sir Tristram and\nmake friends with him, for you well know that if you push him hard many\nof your men will join him. He is peerless and matchless among Christian\nknights except Sir Lancelot, and if you drive him to seek King Arthur's\ncourt he will find such friends there that he may defy your power.\nTherefore we counsel you to beg him to return to the court, under\nassurance of safety.\"\n\"You may send for him, then,\" said the king, though his heart burned\nwith secret fury. The barons now sent for Tristram under a safe-conduct,\nand he returned to the court, where he was welcomed by the king, and all\nthat had passed seemed to be forgotten.\nShortly after this the king and queen went hunting, accompanied by\nTristram and many knights and gentlemen of the court. Entering the\nforest, they set up their pavilions and tents beside a river, where they\nhunted and jousted daily, for King Mark had with him thirty knights who\nstood ready to meet all comers.\nFortune brought thither two knights-errant, one being Lamorak de Galis,\nwho of all knights was counted next to Lancelot and Tristram. The other\nwas Sir Driant, both being Knights of the Round Table.\nDriant jousted first with the Cornish knights, and, after unhorsing some\nof them, got a stunning fall. Then Lamorak offered to meet them, and of\nthe thirty knights not one kept his seat before him, while some were\nsorely hurt.\n\"What knight is this who fights so well?\" asked the king.\n\"Sir,\" said Tristram, \"it is Lamorak de Galis, one of the best knights\nwho ever put spear in rest.\"\n\"Then, Sir Tristram, you must meet him. It were a shame to us all to let\nhim go away victor.\"\n\"It were a greater shame to overthrow a noble knight when he and his\nhorse are worn out with over-labor.\"\n\"He shall not leave here and boast of how he vanquished King Mark's\nknights. I charge you, as you love me and my lady La Belle Isolde, to\ntake your arms and joust with this Lamorak.\"\n\"You charge me to do what is against knighthood, for it is no honor for\na fresh man and horse to master spent and weary ones. Since you command\nit I must do it, but it is sorely against my will.\"\nThen he armed himself and took his horse, and in the joust easily\noverthrew Lamorak and his weary steed. The knight lightly sprang from\nthe falling charger and drew his sword, boldly challenging Tristram to\nmeet him on foot. But this Tristram would by no means do, though Lamorak\nhotly renewed the challenge.\n\"You are great of heart, Sir Lamorak,\" said Tristram, \"but no knight nor\nhorse was ever made that could forever endure. Therefore I will not meet\nyou, and I am sorry for having jousted with you.\"\n\"You have done me an evil turn,\" said Lamorak, angrily, \"for which I\nshall repay you when an opportunity comes.\"\nLamorak soon got his revenge. For as he rode with Sir Driant towards\nCamelot he met by the way a boy who had been sent by Morgan le Fay to\nKing Arthur. For the false enchantress still held to her hatred against\nher noble brother, and by all means sought his harm. So by magic art she\nhad made a drinking-horn of such strange virtue that if any lady drank\nof it who had been false to her husband all the wine would be spilled,\nbut if she had been true to him, she might drink in peace and safety.\nThis horn she sent to Arthur's court, hoping that Guenever might drink\nthereof and be dishonored, for her love for Lancelot was known to all\nbut the king.\nLamorak, learning from the boy his errand, bade him bear the horn to\nKing Mark's court, and tell the king that it was sent to prove the\nfalseness of his lady, who loved Sir Tristram more than she did her\nwedded lord.\nSoon afterwards, therefore, the boy appeared at Tintagil Castle, and\npresented King Mark the magic horn, telling him of its virtues, and all\nthat Sir Lamorak had bidden him say.\n\"By my royal faith we shall try it, then!\" said the king. \"Not only my\nqueen, but all the ladies of the court, shall drink of it, and we shall\nlearn who among them has other lovers than their liege lords.\"\nMuch to their unwillingness, Queen Isolde and a hundred ladies of the\ncourt were made to drink from the magic horn, and of them all only four\ndrank without spilling the wine.\n\"Now, by my knightly honor, all these false dames shall be burnt!\" cried\nthe king. \"My court shall be purged of this vile stain.\"\n\"That shall they not,\" cried the barons. \"We shall never consent that\nthe queen and all these ladies shall be destroyed for a horn wrought by\nsorcery, and sent here to make mischief by as foul a sorceress and witch\nas the earth holds. She has always been an enemy to all true lovers and\nsought to do them harm, and if we meet with Morgan le Fay she will get\nbut scant courtesy at our hands. We would much rather believe the horn\nfalse than all our ladies untrue.\"\nBut Tristram's anger was turned towards Lamorak for this affront, for he\nknew well what had been his purpose. And he vowed in his heart that he\nwould yet repay him for this treacherous act.\nHis affection for Queen Isolde kept as warm as though the love-draught\nstill flowed in his veins, and he sought her at every opportunity, for\nthe two greatest joys that life held for him were to tell her of his\nlove and hear from her lips that her love for him had never dimmed.\nBut his treacherous cousin Andred watched his every movement, and kept\nthe king advised that Tristram continued his secret interviews with the\nqueen. So an ambush of twelve knights was set, and one day, when\nTristram had just paid a stolen visit to the queen, and sat in loving\nconverse by her side, these ambushed knights broke suddenly upon him,\ntook him prisoner, and bound him hand and foot.\nThen, by order of the king, he was borne to a chapel that stood on a\nrocky height above the sea, where Andred and some others of the barons\nwho were his enemies came together to pass judgment upon him.\nTristram in all his life had never stood in such peril, for his hands\nwere bound fast to two knights, and forty others surrounded him, every\none a foe. Care had been taken to get rid of his friends among the\nbarons by sending them away from the court on various pretexts. Like a\nlion surrounded by jackals he chafed in his bonds, while his great heart\nswelled as if it would break. No escape seemed possible, but with a\nreproachful voice he said,--\n\"Fair lords, I have in my time done something for Cornwall, and taken\nupon myself great peril for your benefit. Who among you all was ready to\nmeet Sir Marhaus, or to cope with Palamides? Is this shameful death my\nreward for my services to your country? You know well that I never met a\nknight but that I was his match or his better.\"\n\"Boast not, false traitor,\" cried Andred. \"For all thy vaunting, thou\nshalt die this day.\"\n\"O Andred, Andred, that you my kinsman should treat me thus!\" said\nTristram sorrowfully. \"You can be bold when I am bound, but if there\nwere none here but you and me, you would crouch like a cur at my feet.\"\n\"Would I so?\" cried Andred, angrily. \"You shall see what I would do.\"\nAnd as he spoke he drew his sword, and advanced upon his cousin with\nintent to slay him on the spot. But Tristram, when he saw him coming\nwith murderous looks, suddenly drew inwards with all his strength the\ntwo knights to whom he was bound, and with a mighty wrench broke the\nstrong cords asunder. Then with the leap of a tiger he sprang upon his\ntreacherous cousin, wrested the sword from his hand, and smote him a\nblow that hurled him insensible to the earth. This done, he rushed with\nthe fury of a madman on his enemies, striking mighty blows to right and\nleft, till in a few minutes ten of them lay dead and wounded on the\nearth.\nBut seeing that they were pressing on him in too great force, he\nretreated into the chapel, in whose door-way he stood, sword in hand,\nholding it against all their assaults.\nSoon, however, the cry went forth that the prisoner had escaped, and had\nfelled Andred and killed many of the barons, and others of his foes\nhastened up, till more than a hundred beleaguered him in the chapel.\nTristram now looked despairingly on his unarmed form, and saw that many\nof his assailants wore armor of proof. Death was sure unless he could\nfind some means of escape. He knew that the chapel stood on the brow of\nthe cliff, and here seemed his only hope of safety, though it was a\nperilous one. Quickly retreating, he shut and barred the door, and then\nwith hand and sword wrenched and tore the iron bars from a window over\nthe cliff, out of which he desperately leaped.\nThe descent was a deep one, but he fortunately reached the sea below\nwithout striking any of the rocks in his descent. Here he drew himself\ninto a crevice at the foot of the cliff.\nThose above rushed to the rocky edge and looked down into the boiling\nwaters far below, but they saw nothing of the daring knight, and after a\nlong and vain effort to see him, went away to report to the king that\nhis enemy was drowned.\nBut while King Mark and Tristram's enemies were congratulating one\nanother upon this, there came to the top of the cliff, Gouvernail,\nLambegus, and others of Tristram's men, who, looking down, saw him\ncreeping up from the water to a safer place of shelter among the rocks.\nHailing him, they bade him to be of good heart, and, letting down a rope\nwhich they quickly procured, they managed to draw him up to the summit,\nwhere they congratulated him warmly on his escape. Without delay,\nhowever, he left that spot, for fear of his foes returning, and sought a\nplace of shelter in the forest.\n[Illustration: THE CLIFFS ABOVE THE SEA.]\nHere he abode for some time, but the news of his escape got abroad, to\nthe discomfiture of his foes. And on a day when he had fallen asleep, a\nman to whom he had done some injury crept up and shot him in the\nshoulder with an arrow. Tristram sprang up and killed the man, but the\nwound pained him day by day. And on news of it being brought to La Belle\nIsolde she sent him word by Dame Bragwaine that the arrow had been\npoisoned, and with a venom that no leech in England could cure. \"My\nlady, La Belle Isolde, bids you haste into Brittany to King Howell,\"\nsaid Dame Bragwaine, \"for she knows no one who can help you but his\ndaughter, Isolde la Blanche Mains.\"\nHearing this, the wounded knight sent a sad farewell to his lady love,\nand took ship with Gouvernail his squire, and sailed to Brittany, where\nhe was warmly welcomed by King Howell.\nAnd when Isolde of the white hands heard of the errand of the knight,\nshe applied to his wound healing herbs of such virtue that in a little\nwhile he was whole again.\nAfterwards Tristram dwelt long in Brittany, and helped King Howell much\nin his wars.\nCHAPTER VI.\nTHE MADNESS OF SIR TRISTRAM.\nOf the visit of Sir Tristram to Brittany, and the healing of his wound,\nwith the great deeds he did there, and how he overthrew the giant knight\nNabon le Noire, we shall not further speak. Letters at length came to\nhim from La Belle Isolde, in which she spoke pitifully of tales that had\nbeen brought her, saying that he had been false to her, and had married\nIsolde the White Handed, daughter of King Howell of Brittany.\nOn receiving these letters, Tristram set out in all haste for Cornwall,\nbringing with him Kehydius, King Howell's son. On his way there he had\nmany adventures, and rescued King Arthur from an enchantress, who had\nbrought him near to death in the forest perilous. When at length he came\nto Cornwall he sought the castle of Dinas the seneschal, his warmest\nfriend, and sent him to tell Queen Isolde that he had secretly returned.\nAt this longed-for news the queen swooned from pure joy. When she\nrecovered and was able to speak, she said, in pitiful accents,--\n\"Gentle seneschal, I pray you bring him where I may speak with him, or\nmy heart will break.\"\n\"Trust me for that,\" answered Dinas.\nThen he and Dame Bragwaine brought Tristram and Kehydius privately to\nthe court, and to a chamber which Isolde had assigned for them. But to\ntell the joy of the meeting between Tristram and La Belle Isolde we\nshall not endeavor, for no tongue could tell it, nor heart think it, nor\npen write it.\nYet misfortune still pursued these true lovers, and this time it came\nfrom friends instead of foes, for the presence of Kehydius in the castle\nled to the most doleful and melancholy misfortune which the world ever\nknew. For, as the chronicles make mention, no sooner had Kehydius seen\nLa Belle Isolde, than he became so enamoured of her that his heart might\nnever more be free. And at last, as we are told, he died from pure love\nof this beautiful queen, but with that we are not here concerned. But\nprivately he wrote her letters which were full of moving tales of his\nlove, and composed love poems to her which no minstrel of those days\nmight surpass.\nAll these he managed to put into the queen's hands privately, and at\nlength, when she saw how deeply he was enamoured, she was moved by such\npity for his hopeless love that, out of the pure kindness of her heart,\nshe unwisely wrote him a letter, seeking to comfort him in his distress.\nSad was it that pity should bring such sorrow and pain to two loving\nhearts as came from that fatal letter. For on a day when King Mark sat\nplaying chess at a chamber window, it chanced that La Belle Isolde and\nKehydius were in the chamber above, where they awaited the coming of\nTristram from the turret-room in which he was secretly accommodated. But\nas ill luck would have it, there fell into Tristram's hands the last\nletter which Kehydius had written to the queen, and her answer, which\nwas so worded that it seemed as if she returned his love.\nThese the young lover had carelessly left in Tristram's chamber, where\nhe found them and thoughtlessly began reading them. But not far had he\nread when his heart sank deep in woe, and then leaped high in anger. He\nhurried in all haste to the chamber where Isolde and Kehydius were, the\nletters in his hand.\n\"Isolde,\" he cried, pitifully, \"what mean these letters,--this which\nKehydius has written you, and this, your answer, with its vile tale of\nlove? Alas! is this my repayment for the love I have lavished on you,\nthat you thus treacherously desert me for the viper that I have brought\nhither?--As for you, Kehydius, you have foully repaid my trust in you\nand all my services. But bear you well in mind that I shall be amply\nrevenged for your falsehood and treason.\"\nThen he drew his sword with such a fierce and threatening countenance\nthat Isolde swooned out of pure fear; and Kehydius, when he saw him\nadvancing with murder in his face, saw but one chance for life, and\nleaped out of a bay window immediately over that where King Mark sat\nplaying at chess.\nWhen the king saw the body of a man hurtling down over his head, so\nclose that he almost touched him as he sat at the window, he sprang up\nin alarm and cried,--\n\"What the foul fiend is this? Who are you, fellow? and where in the wide\nworld have you come from?\"\nKehydius, who had fallen on his feet, answered the king with ready wit.\n\"My lord, the king,\" he said, \"blame me not, for I fell in my sleep. I\nwas seated in the window above you, and slumbered there, and you see\nwhat has come of it.\"\n\"The next time you are sleepy, good fellow, hunt a safer couch,\" laughed\nthe king, and turned again to his chess.\nBut Tristram was sure that his presence in the castle would now be known\nto the king, and hastened to arm himself with such armor as he could\nfind, in dread of an assault in force. But as no one came against him,\nhe sent Gouvernail for his horse and spear, and rode in knightly guise\nopenly from the gates of Tintagil.\nAt the gate it chanced that he met with Gingalin, the son of Gawaine,\nwho had just arrived; and the young knight, being full of ardor, and\nhaving a fancy to tilt with a Cornish warrior, put his spear in rest and\nrode against Tristram, breaking his spear on him.\nTristram had yet no spear, but he drew his sword and put all his grief\nand anger into the blow he gave the bold young knight. So hard he struck\nthat Gingalin was flung from his saddle, and the sword, slipping down,\ncut through the horse's neck, leaving the knight with a headless\ncharger.\nThen Tristram rode on until he disappeared in the forest. All this was\nseen by King Mark, who sent a squire to the hurt knight and asked him\nwho he was. When he knew it was Sir Gingalin, he welcomed him, and\nproffered him another horse, asking what knight it was he had\nencountered.\n\"That I know not,\" said Gingalin, \"but he has a mighty wrist, whoever he\nis. And he sighed and moaned as if some great disaster had happened him.\nI shall beware of weeping knights hereafter, if they all strike like\nthis.\"\nAs Tristram rode on he met Sir Fergus, one of his own knights, but by\nthis time his grief and pain of heart had grown so bitter that he fell\nfrom his horse in a swoon, and lay thus for three days and nights.\nWhen at length he came to himself, he sent Fergus, who had remained\nwith him, to the court, to bring him what tidings he might learn. As\nFergus rode forward he met a damsel whom Palamides had sent to inquire\nabout Sir Tristram. Fergus told her how he had met him, and that he was\nalmost out of his mind.\n\"Where shall I find him?\" asked the damsel.\n\"In such a place,\" explained Fergus, and rode on to the court, where he\nlearned that Queen Isolde was sick in bed, moaning pitifully, though no\none knew the source of her pain.\nThe damsel meanwhile sought Tristram, whom she found in such grief as\nshe had never before seen, and the more she tried to console him the\nmore he moaned and bewailed. At the last he took his horse and rode\ndeeply into the forest, as if he would be away from all human company.\nThe damsel now sought him diligently, but it was three days before she\ncould find him, in a miserable woodland hut. Here she brought him meat\nand drink, but he would eat nothing, and seemed as if he wished to\nstarve himself.\nA few days afterwards he fled from her again, and on this occasion it\nchanced that he rode by the castle before which he and Palamides had\nfought for La Belle Isolde. Here the damsel found him again, moaning\ndismally, and quite beside himself with grief. In despair what to do,\nshe went to the lady of the castle and told her of the misfortune of the\nknight.\n\"It grieves me to learn this,\" said the lady. \"Where is he?\"\n\"Here, near by your castle.\"\n\"I am glad he is so near. He shall have meat and drink of the best, and\na harp which I have of his, and on which he taught me to play. For in\nharping he has no peer in the world.\"\nSo they took him meat and drink, but had much ado to get him to eat. And\nduring the night his madness so increased that he drove his horse from\nhim, and unlaced his armor and threw it wildly away. For days afterwards\nhe roamed like a wild man about the wilderness; now in a mad frenzy\nbreaking boughs from the trees, and even tearing young trees up by the\nroots, and now for hours playing on the harp which the lady had given\nhim, while tears flowed in rivulets from his eyes.\nSometimes, again, when the lady knew not where he was, she would sit\ndown in the wood and play upon the harp, which he had left hanging on a\nbough. Then Tristram would come like a tamed fawn and listen to her,\nhiding in the bushes; and in the end would come out and take the harp\nfrom her hand and play on it himself, in mournful strains that brought\nthe tears to her eyes.\nThus for a quarter of a year the demented lover roamed the forest near\nthe castle. But at length he wandered deeper into the wilderness, and\nthe lady knew not whither he had gone. Finally, his clothes torn into\ntatters by the thorns, and he fallen away till he was lean as a hound,\nhe fell into the fellowship of herdsmen and shepherds, who gave him\ndaily a share of their food, and made him do servile tasks. And when he\ndid any deed not to their liking they would beat him with rods. In the\nend, as they looked upon him as witless, they clipped his hair and\nbeard, and made him look like a fool.\nTo such a vile extremity had love, jealousy, and despair brought the\nbrave knight Tristram de Lyonesse, that from being the fellow of lords\nand nobles he became the butt of churls and cowherds. About this time it\nhappened that Dagonet, the fool and merry-maker of King Arthur, rode\ninto Cornwall with two squires, and chance brought them to a well in the\nforest which was much haunted by the demented knight. The weather was\nhot, and they alighted and stooped to drink at the well, while their\nhorses ran loose. As they bent over the well in their thirst, Tristram\nsuddenly appeared, and, moved by a mad freak, he seized Dagonet and\nsoused him headforemost in the well, and the two squires after him. The\ndripping victims crawled miserably from the water, amid the mocking\nlaughter of the shepherds, while Tristram ran after the stray horses.\nThese being brought, he forced the fool and the squires to mount, soaked\nas they were, and ride away.\nBut after Tristram had departed, Dagonet and the squires returned, and\naccusing the shepherds of having set that madman on to assail them, they\nrode upon the keepers of beasts and beat them shrewdly. Tristram, as it\nchanced, was not so far off but that he saw this ill-treatment of those\nwho had fed him, and he ran back, pulled Dagonet from the saddle, and\ngave him a stunning fall to the earth. Then he wrested the sword from\nhis hand and with it smote off the head of one of the squires, while the\nother fled in terror. Tristram followed him, brandishing the sword\nwildly, and leaping like a madman as he rushed into the forest.\nWhen Dagonet had recovered from his swoon, he rode to King Mark's court,\nand there told what had happened to him in the wildwood.\n\"Let all beware,\" he said, \"how they come near that forest well. For it\nis haunted by a naked madman, and that fool soused me, King Arthur's\nfool, and had nearly slain me.\"\n\"That must be Sir Matto le Breune,\" said King Mark, \"who lost his wit\nbecause Sir Gaheris robbed him of his lady.\"\nMeanwhile, Kehydius had been ordered out of Cornwall by Queen Isolde,\nwho blamed him for all that had happened, and with a dolorous heart he\nobeyed. By chance he met Palamides, to whom the damsel had reported the\nsad condition of the insane knight, and for days they sought him\ntogether, but in vain.\nBut at Tintagil a foul scheme was laid by Andred, Tristram's cousin and\nfoe, to gain possession of his estates. This villain got a lady to\ndeclare that she had nursed Tristram in a fatal illness, that he had\ndied in her care, and had been buried by her near a forest well; and she\nfurther said that before his death he had left a request that King Mark\nwould make Andred king of Lyonesse, of which country Tristram now was\nlord.\nOn hearing these tidings, King Mark made a great show of grief, weeping\nand lamenting as if he had lost his best friend in the world. But when\nthe news came to La Belle Isolde, so deep a weight of woe fell upon her\nthat she nearly went out of her mind. So deeply did she grieve, indeed,\nthat she vowed to destroy herself, declaring bitterly that she would not\nlive if Tristram was dead.\nSo she secretly got a sword and went with it into her garden, where she\nforced the hilt into a crevice in a plum-tree so that the naked point\nstood out breast high. Then she kneeled down and prayed piteously:\n\"Sweet Lord Jesus, have pity on me, for I may not live after the death\nof Sir Tristram. My first love he was, and he shall be my last.\"\nAll this had been seen by King Mark, who had followed her privily, and\nas she rose and was about to cast herself on the sword he came behind\nand caught her in his arms. Then he tore the sword from the tree, and\nbore her away, struggling and moaning, to a strong tower, where he set\nguards upon her, bidding them to watch her closely. After that she lay\nlong sick, and came nigh to the point of death.\nMeanwhile, Tristram ran wildly through the forest, with Dagonet's sword\nin his hand, till he came to a hermitage, where he lay down and slept.\nWhile he slumbered, the hermit, who knew of his madness, stole the sword\nfrom him and laid meat beside him. Here he remained ten days, and\nafterwards departed and returned to the herdsmen.\nAnd now another adventure happened. There was in that country a giant\nnamed Tauleas, brother to that Taulard whom Sir Marhaus had killed. For\nfear of Tristram he had for seven years kept close in his castle, daring\nnot to go at large and commit depredations as of old. But now, hearing\nthe rumor that Tristram was dead, he resumed his old evil courses. And\none day he came to where the herdsmen were engaged, and seated himself\nto rest among them. By chance there passed along the road near by a\nCornish knight named Sir Dinant, with whom rode a lady.\nWhen the giant saw them coming, he left the herdsmen and hid himself\nunder a tree near a well, deeming that the knight would stop there to\ndrink. This he did, but no sooner had he sought the well than the giant\nslipped from his covert and leaped upon the horse. Then he rode upon Sir\nDinant, took him by the collar, and pulled him before him upon the\nhorse, reaching for his dagger to strike off his head.\nAt this moment the herdsmen called to Tristram, who had just come from\nthe forest depths: \"Help the knight.\"\n\"Help him yourselves,\" said Tristram.\n\"We dare not,\" they replied.\nThen Tristram ran up and seized the sword of the knight, which had\nfallen to the ground, and with one broad sweep struck off the head of\nTauleas clean from the shoulders. This done he dropped the sword as if\nhe had done but a trifle and went back to the herdsmen.\nShortly after this, Sir Dinant appeared at Tintagil, bearing with him\nthe giant's head, and there told what had happened to him and how he had\nbeen rescued.\n\"Where had you this adventure?\" asked the king.\n\"At the herdsmen's fountain in the forest,\" said Dinant. \"There where so\nmany knights-errant meet. They say this madman haunts that spot.\"\n\"He cannot be Matto le Breune, as I fancied,\" said the king. \"It was a\nman of no small might who made that stroke. I shall seek this wild man\nmyself.\"\nOn the next day King Mark, with a following of knights and hunters, rode\ninto the forest, where they continued their course till they came to the\nwell. Lying beside it they saw a gaunt, naked man, with a sword beside\nhim. Who he was they knew not, for madness and exposure had so changed\nTristram's face that no one knew it.\nBy the king's command he was picked up slumbering and covered with\nmantles, and thus borne in a litter to Tintagil. Here they bathed and\nwashed him, and gave him warm food and gentle care, till his madness\npassed away and his wits came back to him. But no one knew him, so much\nhad he changed, while all deemed Tristram dead, and had no thought of\nhim.\nWord of what had happened came to Isolde where she lay sick, and with a\nsudden whim she rose from her bed and bade Bragwaine come with her, as\nshe had a fancy to see the forest madman.\nAsking where he was, she was told that he was in the garden, resting in\nan arbor, in a light slumber. Hither they sought him and looked down\nupon him, knowing him not.\nBut as they stood there Tristram woke, and when he saw the queen he\nturned away his head, while tears ran from his eyes. It happened that\nthe queen had with her a little brachet, which Tristram had given her\nwhen she first came to Cornwall, and which always remembered and loved\nits old master.\nWhen this little creature came near the sick man, she leaped upon him\nand licked his cheeks and hands, and whined about him, showing great joy\nand excitement.\n\"The dog is wiser than us all,\" cried Dame Bragwaine. \"She knows her\nmaster. They spoke falsely who said he was dead. It is Sir Tristram.\"\nBut Isolde fell to the ground in a swoon, and lay there long insensible.\nWhen at length she recovered, she said,--\n\"My dear lord and knight, I thank God deeply that you still live, for\nthe story of your death had nearly caused mine. Your life is in dread\ndanger, for when King Mark knows you he will either banish or destroy\nyou. Therefore I beg you to fly from this court and seek that of King\nArthur where you are beloved. This you may trust, that at all times,\nearly and late, my love for you will keep fresh in my heart.\"\n\"I pray you leave me, Isolde,\" answered the knight. \"It is not well that\nyou should be seen here. Fear not that I will forget what you have\nsaid.\"\nThen the queen departed, but do what she would the brachet would not\nfollow her, but kept with the sick knight. Soon afterwards King Mark\nvisited him, and to his surprise the brachet sat upon the prostrate man\nand bayed at the king.\n\"What does this mean?\" he asked.\n\"I can tell you,\" answered a knight. \"That dog was Sir Tristram's before\nit was the queen's. The brachet is wiser than us all. It knows its\nmaster.\"\n\"That I cannot believe,\" said the king. \"Tell me your name, my good\nman.\"\n\"My name is Tristram of Lyonesse,\" answered the knight. \"I am in your\npower. Do with me what you will.\"\nThe king looked at him long and strangely, with anger in his eyes.\n\"Truly,\" he said, \"you had better have died while you were about it. It\nwould have saved me the need of dealing with you as you deserve.\"\nThen he returned to the castle, and called his barons hastily to\ncouncil, sternly demanding that the penalty of death should be adjudged\nagainst the knight. Happily for Tristram, the barons would not consent\nto this, and proposed instead that the accused knight should be\nbanished.\nSo in the end the sentence was passed that Tristram should be banished\nfor ten years from the country of Cornwall, not to return under pain of\ndeath. To this the knight assented, taking an oath before the king and\nhis barons that he would abide by the decision of the court.\nMany barons accompanied him to the ship in which he was to set sail. And\nas he was going, there arrived at Tintagil a knight of King Arthur's\ncourt named Dinadan, who had been sent to seek Sir Tristram and request\nhim to come to Camelot.\nOn being shown the banished knight, he went to him and told his errand.\n\"You come in good season,\" said Tristram, \"for to Camelot am I now\nbound.\"\n\"Then I would go with you in fellowship.\"\n\"You are right welcome, Sir Dinadan.\" Then Tristram turned to the others\nand said,--\n[Illustration: TINTAGIL, KING ARTHUR'S CASTLE, FROM THE VALLEY.]\n\"Greet King Mark from me, and all my enemies as well, and tell them that\nI shall come again in my own good time. I am well rewarded for all I\nhave done for him, but revenge has a long life, as he may yet learn.\"\nThen he took ship and put to sea, a banished man. And with him went\nDinadan to cheer him in his woe, for, of all the knights of the Round\nTable, Dinadan was the merriest soul.\n HOW TRISTRAM CAME TO CAMELOT.\nCHAPTER I.\nTRISTRAM AND DINADAN.\nAnd now it behooves us to follow the banished knight in his adventures,\nfor they were many and various, and arduous were the labors with which\nhe won his right to a seat at the Round Table. We have told the tale of\nhis love and madness, and now must relate the marvellous exploits of his\nbanishment.\nHardly, indeed, had Tristram and Dinadan landed in Arthur's realms when\nthey met two knights of his court, Hector de Maris and Bors de Ganis.\nThis encounter took place upon a bridge, where Hector and Dinadan\njousted, and Dinadan and his horse were overthrown. But Bors refused to\nfight with Tristram, through the contempt he felt for Cornish knights.\nYet the honor of Cornwall was soon retrieved, for Sir Bleoberis and Sir\nDriant now came up, and Bleoberis proffered to joust with Tristram, who\nquickly smote him to the earth.\nThis done, Tristram and Dinadan departed, leaving their opponents in\nsurprise that such valor and might could come out of Cornwall. But not\nfar had the two knights-errant gone when they entered a forest, where\nthey met a damsel, who was in search of some noble knights to rescue Sir\nLancelot. Morgan le Fay, who hated him bitterly since his escape from\nher castle, had laid an ambush of thirty knights at a point which\nLancelot was approaching, thinking to attack him unawares and so slay\nhim.\nThe damsel, who had learned of this plot, had already met the four\nknights whom Tristram and Dinadan had encountered, and obtained their\npromise to come to the rescue.\nShe now told her story of crime and treachery to the two wanderers, with\nthe same request.\n\"Fair damsel,\" said Tristram, \"you could set me no more welcome task.\nGuide me to the place where those dastards lie in ambush for Lancelot.\"\n\"What would you do?\" cried Dinadan. \"We cannot match thirty knights. Two\nor three are enough for any one knight, if they be men. I hope you don't\nfancy that I will take fifteen to my share!\"\n\"Come, come, good comrade,\" said Tristram. \"Do not show the white\nfeather.\"\n\"I would rather wear the white feather than the fool's cap,\" said\nDinadan. \"Lend me your shield if you will; for I had sooner carry a\nCornish shield, which all men say only cowards bear, than try any such\nfoolhardy adventure.\"\n\"Nay; I will keep my shield for the sake of her who gave it to me,\"\nanswered Tristram. \"But this I warn you, if you will not abide with me\nI shall slay you before we part, for a coward has no right to cumber\nthe earth. I ask no more of you than to fight one knight. If your heart\nis too faint for that, then stand by and see me meet the whole crew.\"\n\"Very well,\" said Dinadan, \"you can trust me to look on bravely, and\nmayhap to do something to save my head from hard knocks; but I would\ngive my helmet if I had not met you. Folks say you are cured of your mad\nfit, but I vow if I have much faith in your sound sense.\"\nTristram smiled grimly at Dinadan's scolding, and kept on after the\ndamsel. Not far had they gone before they met the thirty knights. These\nhad already passed the four knights of Arthur's court, without a combat,\nand they now rode in the same way past Tristram and Dinadan, with no\nshow of hostility.\nBut Tristram was of different mettle. Turning towards them he cried with\na voice of thunder,--\"Lo! sir villains. I have heard of your plot to\nmurder Lancelot. Turn and defend yourselves. Here is a knight ready to\nfight you all for the love of Lancelot du Lake!\"\nThen, spurring his good war-steed, he rode upon them with the fury of a\nlion, slaying two with his spear. He then drew his mighty blade, and\nattacked them with such fierce spirit and giant strength that ten more\nsoon fell dead beneath his furious blows. Nor did Dinadan stand and look\non, as he had grumblingly threatened, but rode in and aided Tristram\nnobly, more than one of the villains falling before his blows. When, at\nlength, the murderous crew took to flight, there were but ten of them\nalive.\nSir Bors and his companions had seen this battle at a distance, but it\nwas all over before they could reach the scene of fray. High was their\npraise of the valor and prowess of the victor, who, they said, had done\nsuch a deed as they had deemed only Lancelot could perform.\nThey invited him with knightly warmth and courtesy to go with them to\ntheir lodging.\n\"Many thanks, fair sirs,\" said Tristram, \"but I cannot go with you.\"\n\"Then tell us your name, that we may remember it as that of one of the\nbest of knights, and give you the honor which is your due.\"\n\"Nor that either,\" answered Tristram. \"In good time you shall know my\nname, but not now.\"\nLeaving them with the dead knights, Tristram and Dinadan rode forward,\nand in time found themselves near a party of shepherds and herdsmen,\nwhom they asked if any lodging was to be had near by.\n\"That there is,\" said the herdsmen, \"and good lodging, in a castle close\nat hand. But it is not to be had for the asking. The custom of that\ncastle is that no knight shall lodge there except he fight with two\nknights of the castle. But as you are two, you can fight your battle man\nfor man, if you seek lodging there.\"\n\"That is rough pay for a night's rest,\" said Dinadan. \"Lodge where you\nwill, I will not rest in that castle. I have done enough to-day to spoil\nmy appetite for fighting.\"\n\"Come, come,\" said Tristram, \"and you a Knight of the Round Table! You\ncannot refuse to win your lodging in knightly fashion.\"\n\"Win it you must if you want it,\" said the herdsmen; \"for if you have\nthe worse of the battle no lodging will you gain in these quarters,\nexcept it be in the wild wood.\"\n\"Be it so, if it must,\" said Dinadan. \"In flat English, I will not go to\nthe castle.\"\n\"Are you a man?\" demanded Tristram, scornfully. \"Come, Dinadan, I know\nyou are no coward. On your knighthood, come.\"\nGrowling in his throat, Dinadan followed his comrade, sorely against his\nwill, and together they rode into the castle court. Here they found, as\nthey had been told, two armed knights ready to meet them.\nTo make a long story short, Tristram and Dinadan smote them both down,\nand afterwards entered the castle, where the best of good cheer was\nserved them. But when they had disarmed, and were having a merry time at\nthe well-filled table, word was brought them that two other knights,\nPalamides and Gaheris, had entered the gates, and demanded a joust\naccording to the castle custom.\n\"The foul fiend take them!\" cried Dinadan. \"Fight I will not; I am here\nfor rest.\"\n\"We are now the lords of the castle, and must defend its custom,\" said\nTristram. \"Make ready, therefore, for fight you must.\"\n\"Why, in the devil's name, came I here in your company?\" cried Dinadan.\n\"You will wear all the flesh off my bones.\"\nBut there was nothing to do but arm themselves and meet the two knights\nin the court-yard. Of these Gaheris encountered Tristram, and got a fall\nfor his pains; but Palamides hurled Dinadan from his horse. So far,\nthen, it was fall for fall, and the contest could be decided only by a\nfight on foot. But Dinadan was bruised from his fall and refused to\nfight. Tristram unlaced his helmet to give him air, and prayed him for\nhis aid.\n\"Fight them yourself, if you will; two such knights are but a morsel to\nyou,\" said Dinadan. \"As for me, I am sore wounded from our little\nskirmish with the thirty knights, and have no valor left in me. Sir\nTristram, you are a madman yet, and I curse the time that ever I saw\nyou. In all the world there are no two such mad freaks as Lancelot and\nyou. Once I fell into fellowship with Lancelot as I have now with you,\nand what followed? Why, he set me a task that kept me a quarter of a\nyear in bed. Defend me from such head-splitters, and save me from your\nfellowship.\"\n\"Then if you will not fight I must face them both,\" said Tristram. \"Come\nforth, both of you, I am ready for you.\"\nAt this challenge Palamides and Gaheris advanced and struck at the two\nknights. But after a stroke or two at Gaheris, Dinadan withdrew from the\nfray.\n\"This is not fair, two to one,\" said Palamides. \"Stand aside, Gaheris,\nwith that knight who declines to fight, and let us two finish the\ncombat.\"\nThen he and Tristram fought long and fiercely, Tristram in the end\ndriving him back three paces. At this Gaheris and Dinadan pushed\nbetween them and bade them cease fighting, as both had done enough for\nhonor.\n\"So be it,\" said Tristram, \"and these brave knights are welcome to lodge\nwith us in the castle if they will.\"\n\"With you, not with us,\" said Dinadan, dryly. \"When I lodge in that\ndevil's den may I sell my sword for a herring. We will be called up\nevery hour of the night to fight for our bedding. And as for you, good\nfriend, when I ride with you again, it will be when you have grown older\nand wiser, or I younger and more foolish.\"\nWith these words he mounted his horse and rode in an ill-humor out of\nthe castle gates.\n\"Come, good sirs, we must after him,\" said Tristram, with a laugh. \"He\nis a prime good fellow, if he has taken himself off in a pet; it is\nlikely I gave him an overdose of fighting.\"\nSo, asking a man of the castle to guide them to a lodging, they rode\nafter Dinadan, whom they soon overtook, though he gave them no hearty\nwelcome. Two miles farther brought them to a priory, where they spent\nthe night in comfort.\nEarly the next day Tristram mounted and rode away, leaving Dinadan at\nthe priory, for he was too much bruised to mount his horse. There\nremained at the priory with him a knight named Pellinore, who sought\nearnestly to learn Tristram's name, and at last said angrily to\nDinadan,--\n\"Since you will not tell me his name, I will ride after him and make him\ntell it himself, or leave him on the ground to repent.\"\n\"Beware, my good sir,\" said Dinadan, \"or the repentance will be yours\ninstead of his. No wise man is he who thrusts his own hand in the fire.\"\n\"Good faith, I fear him not,\" said Pellinore, haughtily, and rode on his\nway.\nBut he paid dearly for his hardiness, for a half-hour afterwards he lay\non the earth with a spear wound in his shoulder, while Tristram rode\nunscathed on his way.\nOn the day following Tristram met with pursuivants, who were spreading\nfar and wide the news of a great tournament that was to be held between\nKing Carados and the king of North Wales, at the Castle of Maidens. They\nwere seeking for good knights to take part in that tournament, and in\nparticular King Carados had bidden them to seek Lancelot, and the king\nof Northgalis to seek Tristram de Lyonesse.\n\"Lancelot is not far away,\" said Tristram. \"As for me, I will be there,\nand do my best to win honor in the fray.\"\nAnd so he rode away, and soon after met with Sir Kay and Sir Sagramore,\nwith whom he refused to joust, as he wished to keep himself fresh for\nthe tournament.\nBut as Kay twitted him with being a cowardly knight of Cornwall, he\nturned on him and smote him from his horse. Then, to complete the tale,\nhe served Sagramore with the same sauce, and serenely rode on his way,\nleaving them to heal their bruises with repentance.\nCHAPTER II.\nON THE ROAD TO THE TOURNAMENT.\nTristram now rode far alone through a country strange to him, and void\nof knightly adventures. At length, however, chance brought to him a\ndamsel, who told him disconsolately that she sought a champion to cope\nwith a villanous knight, who was playing the tyrant over a wide\ndistrict, and who defied all errant knights.\n\"If you would win great honor come with me,\" she said.\n\"To win honor is the breath of my life,\" said Tristram. \"Lead on, fair\nmaiden.\"\nThen he rode with her a matter of six miles, when good fortune brought\nthem in contact with Sir Gawaine, who recognized the damsel as one of\nMorgan le Fay's. On seeing her with an unknown knight he at once\nsurmised that there was some mischief afoot.\n\"Fair sir,\" said Gawaine, \"whither ride you with that damsel?\"\n\"Whither she may lead me,\" said Tristram. \"That is all I know of the\nmatter.\"\n\"Then, by my good blade, you shall ride no farther with her, for she has\na breeder of ill for mistress, and means you a mischief.\"\nHe drew his sword as he spoke, and said in stern accents to the\ndamsel,--\n\"Tell me wherefore and whither you lead this knight, or you shall die on\nthe spot. I know you, minx, and the false-hearted witch who sends you.\"\n\"Mercy, Sir Gawaine!\" she cried, trembling in mortal fear. \"Harm me not,\nand I will tell you all I know.\"\n\"Say on, then. I crave not your worthless life, but will have it if you\ntell me not the truth.\"\n\"Good and valiant sir,\" she answered, \"Queen Morgan le Fay, my lady, has\nsent me and thirty ladies more, in search of Sir Lancelot or Sir\nTristram. Whoever of us shall first meet either of these knights is to\nlead him to her castle, with a tale of worshipful deeds to be done and\nwrongs to be righted. But thirty knights lie in wait in a tower ready to\nsally forth and destroy them.\"\n\"Foul shame is this,\" cried Gawaine, \"that such treachery should ever be\ndevised by a queen's daughter and the sister of the worshipful King\nArthur. Sir knight, will you stand with me, and unmask the malice of\nthese thirty ambushed rogues?\"\n\"That shall I willingly,\" said Tristram. \"Trust me to do my share to\npunish these dogs. Not long since I and a fellow met with thirty of that\nlady's knights, who were in ambush for Lancelot, and we gave them\nsomething else to think of. If there be another thirty on the same vile\nquest, I am for them.\"\nThen they rode together towards the queen's castle, Gawaine with a\nshrewd fancy that he knew his Cornish companion, for he had heard the\nstory of how two knights had beaten thirty. When they reached the\ncastle, Gawaine called in a loud voice,--\n\"Queen Morgan le Fay, send out the knights whom you hold in ambush\nagainst Lancelot and Tristram. I know your treason, and will tell of it\nwherever I ride. I, Sir Gawaine, and my fellow here, dare your thirty\nknights to come out and meet us like men.\"\n\"You bluster bravely, friend Gawaine,\" answered the knights. \"But we\nwell know that your pride and valor come from the knight who is there\nwith you. Some of us have tried conclusions with that head-splitter who\nwears the arms of Cornwall, and have had enough of him. You alone would\nnot keep us long in the castle, but we have no fancy to measure swords\nwith him. So ride your way; you will get no glory here.\"\nIn vain did Gawaine berate them as dastards and villains; say what he\nwould, not a soul of them would set foot beyond the walls, and in time\nthe two knights rode away in a rage, cursing all cowards in their\nbeards.\nFor several days they rode together without adventure. Then they beheld\na shameful sight, that roused their souls to anger. For they saw a\nvillanous knight, known in those parts as Breuse Sans Pit\u00e9, who chased a\nlady with intent to kill her, having slain her lover before. Many\ndastardly deeds of this kind had he done, yet so far had escaped all\nretribution for his crimes.\n\"Let me ride alone against him,\" said Gawaine. \"I know his tricks. He\nwill stand to face one man, but if he sees us both, he will fly, and he\nalways rides so swift a horse that none can overtake him.\"\nThen he rode at full speed between the lady and her pursuer, and cried\nloudly,--\n\"False knight and murderer, leave that lady and try your tricks on me.\"\nSir Breuse, seeing but one, put his spear in rest and rode furiously\nagainst Gawaine, whom he struck so strong a blow that he flung him\nprostrate to the ground. Then, with deadly intent, he forced his horse\nto trample over him twenty times backward and forward, thinking to\ndestroy him. But when Tristram saw this villany he broke from his covert\nand rushed in fury upon the murderous wretch.\nBut Breuse Sans Pit\u00e9 had met with Tristram before, and knew him by his\narms. Therefore he turned his horse and fled at full speed, hotly\npursued by the furious knight. Long he chased him, full of thirst for\nrevenge, but the well-horsed villain rode at such a pace that he left\nhim in the distance. At length Tristram, despairing of overtaking him,\nand seeing an inviting forest spring, drew up his horse and rode thither\nfor rest and refreshment.\nDismounting and tying his horse to a tree, he washed his face and hands\nand took a deep and grateful draught of the cool water. Then laying\nhimself to rest by the spring side, he fell sound asleep.\nWhile he lay there good fortune brought to that forest spring a lady who\nhad sought him far and wide. This was Dame Bragwaine, the lady companion\nof La Belle Isolde, who bore him letters from the queen. She failed to\nrecognize the sleeping knight, but at first sight knew his noble\ncharger, Passe Brewel, which Tristram had ridden for years. So she\nseated herself gladly by the knight, and waited patiently till he awoke.\nThen she saluted him, and he her, for he failed not to recognize his\nold acquaintance.\n\"What of my dear lady, La Belle Isolde?\" he asked, eagerly.\n\"She is well, and has sent me to seek you. Far and wide have I sought\nfor you through the land, and glad enough am I to hand you the letters I\nbear.\"\n\"Not so glad as I am to receive them,\" said Tristram, joyfully, taking\nthem from her hand and opening them with eager haste, while his soul\noverflowed with joy as he read Isolde's words of love and constancy,\nthough with them was mingled many a piteous complaint.\n\"Come with me, Dame Bragwaine,\" he said. \"I am riding to the tournament\nto be held at the Castle of Maidens. There will I answer these letters,\nand to have you there, to tell the tale of my doings to my Lady Isolde,\nwill give me double strength and valor.\"\nTo this Dame Bragwaine willingly agreed, and mounting they rode till\nthey came to the castle of a hospitable old knight, near where the\ntournament was to be held. Here they were given shelter and\nentertainment.\nAs they sat at supper with Sir Pellounes, their ancient host, he told\nthem much of the great tournament that was at hand, among other things\nthat Lancelot would be there, with thirty-two knights of his kindred,\neach of whom would bear a shield with the arms of Cornwall.\nIn the midst of their conversation a messenger entered, who told\nPellounes that his son, Persides de Bloise, had come home, whereupon\nthe old knight held up his hands and thanked God, telling Tristram that\nhe had not seen his son for two years.\n\"I know him,\" said Tristram, \"and a good and worthy knight he is.\"\nOn the next morning, when Tristram came into the castle hall clad in his\nhouse attire, he met with Persides, similarly unarmed, and they saluted\neach other courteously.\n\"My father tells me that you are of Cornwall,\" said Persides. \"I jousted\nthere once before King Mark, and fortune helped me to overthrow ten\nknights. But Tristram de Lyonesse overthrew me and took my lady from me.\nThis I have not forgotten, and I will repay him for it yet.\"\n\"You hate Sir Tristram, then? Do you think that will trouble him much,\nand that he is not able to withstand your malice?\"\n\"He is a better knight than I, that I admit. But for all that I owe him\nno good will.\"\nAs thus they stood talking at a bay window of the castle, they saw many\nknights ride by on their way to the tournament. Among these Tristram\nmarked a strongly-built warrior mounted on a great black horse, and\nbearing a black shield.\n\"What knight is that?\" he asked. \"He looks like a strong and able one.\"\n\"He is one of the best in the world,\" said Persides. \"I know him well.\"\n\"Is it Sir Lancelot?\"\n\"No, no. It is Palamides, an unchristened Saracen, but a noble man.\"\n\"Palamides! I should know him too, but his arms deceived me.\"\nAs they continued to look they saw many of the country people salute the\nblack knight. Some time afterwards a squire came to Pellounes, the lord\nof the castle, and told him that a fierce combat had taken place in the\nroad some distance in advance, and that a knight with a black shield had\nsmitten down thirteen others. He was still there, ready for any who\nmight wish to meet him, and holding a tournament of his own in the\nhighway.\n\"On my faith, that is Palamides!\" said Tristram. \"The worthy fellow must\nbe brimful of fight. Fair brother, let us cast on our cloaks and see the\nplay.\"\n\"Not I,\" said Persides. \"Let us not go like courtiers there, but like\nmen ready to withstand their enemies.\"\n\"As you will. To fight or to look on is all one to me.\"\nThen they armed and rode to the spot where so many knights had tried\ntheir fortune before the tournament. When Palamides saw them approach,\nhe said to his squire,--\n\"Go to yonder knight with a green shield and in it a lion of gold. Tell\nhim that I request a passage-at-arms with him, and that my name is\nPalamides.\"\nPersides, who wore the shield thus described, did not hesitate to accept\nthe challenge, and rode against Palamides, but quickly found himself\nfelled to the earth by his powerful antagonist. Then Tristram made ready\nto avenge his comrade, but before he could put his spear in rest\nPalamides rode upon him like a thunderbolt, taking him at advantage, and\nhurling him over his horse's tail.\nAt this Tristram sprang up in furious anger and sore shame, and leaped\ninto his saddle.\nThen he sent Gouvernail to Palamides, accusing him of treachery, and\ndemanding a joust on equal terms.\n\"Not so,\" answered Palamides. \"I know that knight better than he\nfancies, and will not meet him now. But if he wants satisfaction he may\nhave it to-morrow at the Castle of Maidens, where I will be ready to\nmeet him in the lists.\"\nAs Tristram stood fretting and fuming in wrathful spite, Dinadan, who\nhad seen the affair, came up, and seeing the anger of the Cornish\nknight, restrained his inclination to jest.\n\"Here it is proved,\" he said, \"that a man can never be so strong but he\nmay meet his equal. Never was man so wise but that his brain might fail\nhim, and a passing good rider is he that never had a fall.\"\n\"Let be,\" cried Tristram, angrily. \"You are readier with your tongue\nthan with your sword, friend Dinadan. I will revenge myself, and you\nshall see it.\"\nAs they stood thus talking there came by them a likely knight, who rode\nsoberly and heavily, bearing a black shield.\n\"What knight is that?\" asked Tristram.\n\"It is Sir Briant of North Wales,\" answered Persides. \"I know him well.\"\nJust behind him came a knight who bore a shield with the arms of\nCornwall, and as he rode up he sent a squire to Sir Briant, whom he\nrequired to joust with him.\n\"Let it be so, if he will have it so,\" said Briant. \"Bid him make\nready.\"\nThen they rode together, and the Welsh knight got a severe fall.\n\"What Cornish knight is this?\" asked Tristram.\n\"None, as I fancy,\" said Dinadan. \"I warrant he is of King Ban's blood,\nwhich counts the noblest knights of the world.\"\nThen two other knights came up and challenged him with the Cornish\nshield, and in a trice he smote them both down with one spear.\n\"By my faith,\" said Tristram, \"he is a good knight, whoever he be, and I\nnever saw one yet that rode so well.\"\nThen the king of Northgalis rode to Palamides, and prayed him for his\nsake to joust with that knight who had just overturned two Welsh\nknights.\n\"I beg you ask me not,\" said Palamides. \"I have had my full share of\njousting already, and wish to keep fresh for the tournament to-morrow.\"\n\"One ride only, for the honor of North Wales,\" beseeched the king.\n\"Well, if you will have it so; but I have seen many a man have a fall at\nhis own request.\"\nThen he sent a squire to the victor knight, and challenged him to a\njoust.\n\"Fair fellow,\" said the knight, \"tell me your lord's name.\"\n\"It is Sir Palamides.\"\n\"He is well met, then. I have seen no knight in seven years with whom I\nwould rather tilt.\"\nThen the two knights took spears from their squires, and rode apart.\n\"Now,\" said Dinadan, \"you will see Palamides come off the victor.\"\n\"I doubt it,\" answered Tristram. \"I wager the knight with the Cornish\nshield will give him a fall.\"\n\"That I do not believe,\" said Dinadan.\nAs they spoke, the two knights put spears in rest, and spurred their\nhorses, riding hotly together. Palamides broke a spear on his\nantagonist, without moving him in his saddle; but on his side he\nreceived such a blow that it broke through his shield and hauberk, and\nwould have slain him outright had he not fallen.\n\"How now?\" cried Tristram. \"Am I not right? I knew by the way those\nknights ride which would fall.\"\nThe unknown knight now rode away and sought a well in the forest edge,\nfor he was hot and thirsty with the fray. This was seen by the king of\nNorthgalis, who sent twelve knights after him to do him a mischief, so\nthat he would not be able to appear at the tournament and win the\nvictory.\nThey came upon him so suddenly that he had scarcely time to put on his\nhelm and spring to his horse's back before they assailed him in mass.\n\"Ye villains!\" he cried, \"twelve to one! And taking a man unawares! You\nwant a lesson, and by my faith you shall have it.\"\nThen spurring his horse he rode on them so fiercely that he smote one\nknight through the body, breaking his spear in doing so. Now he drew his\nsword and smote stoutly to right and left, killing three others and\nwounding more.\n\"Dogs and dastards! know you me not?\" he cried in a voice of thunder.\n\"My name is Lancelot du Lake. Here's for you, cowards and traitors!\"\nBut the name he had shouted was enough. Those who were still able, fled,\nfollowed by the angry knight. By hard riding they escaped his wrath, and\nhe, hot and furious, turned aside to a lodging where he designed to\nspend the night. In consequence of his hard labor in this encounter\nLancelot fought not on the first day of the tournament, but sat beside\nKing Arthur, who had come hither from Camelot to witness the\npassage-at-arms.\nCHAPTER III.\nAT THE CASTLE OF MAIDENS.\nWhen came the dawn of the first day of the tournament, many ladies and\ngentlemen of the court took their seats on a high gallery, shaded by a\nrich canopy of parti-colored silk, while in the centre of the gallery\nsat King Arthur and Queen Guenever, and, by the side of the king,\nLancelot du Lake. Many other noble lords and ladies of the surrounding\ncountry occupied the adjoining seats, while round the circle that closed\nin the lists sat hosts of citizens and country people, all eager for the\nwarlike sports.\nKnights in glittering armor stood in warlike groups outside the entrance\ngates, where rose many pavilions of red and white silk, each with its\nfluttering pennon, and great war-horses that impatiently champed the\nbit, while the bright steel heads of the lances shone like star-points\nin the sun.\nWithin the lists the heralds and pursuivants busied themselves, while\ncheery calls, and bugle-blasts, and the lively chat of the assembled\nmultitude filled the air with joyous sound.\nTristram de Lyonesse still dwelt with the old knight Sir Pellounes, in\ncompany with Sir Persides, whom he yet kept in ignorance of his name.\nAnd as it was his purpose to fight that day unknown, he ordered\nGouvernail, his squire, to procure him a black-faced shield, without\nemblem or device of any kind.\nSo accoutred, he and Persides mounted in the early morn and rode\ntogether to the lists, where the parties of King Carados and the king of\nNorthgalis were already being formed. Tristram and his companion joined\nthe side of Carados, the Scottish king, and hardly had they ridden to\ntheir place when King Arthur gave the signal for the onset, the bugles\nloudly sounded, and the two long lines of knights rode together with a\ncrash as of two thunder-clouds meeting in mid-air.\nMany knights and horses went to the earth in that mad onset, and many\nothers who had broken their spears drew their swords and so kept up the\nfray. The part of the line where Tristram and Persides was drove back\nthe king of Northgalis and his men, with many noble knights who fought\non the side of the Welsh king. But through the rush and roar of the\nonset there pushed forward Bleoberis de Ganis and Gaheris, who hurled\nPersides to the earth, where he was almost slain, for as he lay there\nhelpless more than forty horsemen rode over him in the fray.\nSeeing this, and what valiant deeds the two knights did, Tristram\nmarvelled who they were. But perceiving the danger in which his comrade\nPersides lay, he rushed to the rescue with such force that Gaheris was\nhurled headlong from his horse. Then Bleoberis in a rage put his spear\nin rest and rode furiously against Tristram, but he was met in\nmid-career, and flung from his saddle by the resistless spear of the\nCornish knight.\nThe king with the hundred knights now rode angrily forward, pressed back\nthe struggling line, and horsed Gaheris and Bleoberis. Then began a\nfierce struggle, in which Bleoberis and Tristram did many deeds of\nknightly skill and valor.\nAs the violent combat continued, Dinadan, who was on the other side,\nrode against Tristram, not knowing him, and got such a buffet that he\nswooned in his saddle. He recovered in a minute, however, and, riding to\nhis late companion, said in a low voice,--\n\"Sir knight, is this the way you serve an old comrade, masking under a\nblack shield? I know you now better than you deem. I will not reveal\nyour disguise, but by my troth I vow I will never try buffets with you\nagain, and, if I keep my wits, sword of yours shall never come near my\nheadpiece.\"\nAs Dinadan withdrew to repair damages, Bleoberis rode against Tristram,\nwho gave him such a furious sword-blow on the helm that he bowed his\nhead to the saddle. Then Tristram caught him by the helm, jerked him\nfrom his horse, and flung him down under the feet of the steed.\nThis ended the fray, for at that moment Arthur bade the heralds to blow\nto lodging, and the knights who still held saddle sheathed their swords.\nTristram thereupon departed to his pavilion and Dinadan with him.\nBut Arthur, and many of those with him, wondered who was the knight with\nthe black shield, who had with sword and spear done such wondrous deeds.\nMany opinions were given, and some suspected him of being Tristram, but\nheld their peace. To him the judges awarded the prize of the day's\ncombat, though they named him only the knight of the black shield, not\nknowing by what other name to call him.\nWhen the second day of the tournament dawned, and the knights prepared\nfor the combat, Palamides, who had fought under Northgalis, now joined\nKing Arthur's party, that led by Carados, and sent to Tristram to know\nhis name.\n\"As to that,\" answered Tristram, \"tell Sir Palamides that he shall not\nknow till I have broken two spears with him. But you may tell him that I\nam the same knight that he smote down unfairly the day before the\ntournament, and that I owe him as shrewd a turn. So whichever side he\ntakes I will take the opposite.\"\n\"Sir,\" said the messenger, \"he will be on King Arthur's side, in company\nwith the noblest knights.\"\n\"Then I will fight for Northgalis, though yesterday I held with\nCarados.\"\n[Illustration: TRISTRAM THEREUPON DEPARTED TO HIS PAVILION.]\nWhen King Arthur blew to field and the fray began, King Carados opened\nthe day by a joust with the king with the hundred knights, who gave him\na sore fall. Around him there grew up a fierce combat, till a troop of\nArthur's knights pushed briskly in and bore back the opposite party,\nrescuing Carados from under the horses' feet. While the fight went on\nthus in one part of the field, Tristram, in jet-black armor, pressed\nresistlessly forward in another part, and dealt so roughly and grimly\nwith Arthur's knights that not a man of them could withstand him.\nAt length he fell among the fellowship of King Ban, all of whom bore\nCornish shields, and here he smote right and left with such fury and\nmight that cries of admiration for his gallant bearing went up from\nlords and ladies, citizens and churls. But he would have had the worse\nthrough force of numbers had not the king with the hundred knights come\nto his rescue, and borne him away from the press of his assailants, who\nwere crowding upon him in irresistible strength.\nHardly had Tristram escaped from this peril than he saw another group of\nabout forty knights, with Kay the seneschal at their head. On them he\nrode like a fury, smote Kay from his horse, and fared among them all\nlike a greyhound among conies.\nAt this juncture Lancelot, who had hitherto taken little part, met a\nknight retiring from the lists with a sore wound in the head.\n\"Who hurt you so badly?\" he asked.\n\"That knight with the black shield, who is making havoc wherever he\ngoes,\" was the answer. \"I may curse the time I ever faced him, for he is\nmore devil than mortal man.\"\nLancelot at these words drew his sword and advanced to meet Tristram,\nand as he rode forward saw the Cornish champion hurtling through a press\nof foes, bringing down one with nearly every stroke of his sword.\n\"A fellow of marvellous prowess he, whoever he be,\" said Lancelot. \"If I\nset upon this knight after all his heavy labor, I will shame myself more\nthan him.\" And he put up his sword.\nThen the king with the hundred knights, with his following, and a\nhundred more of the Welsh party, set upon the twenty of Lancelot's kin,\nand a fearful fray began, for the twenty held together like wild boars,\nnone failing the others, and faced the odds against them without\nyielding a step.\nWhen Tristram, who had for the moment withdrawn, beheld their noble\nbearing, he marvelled at their valor, for he saw by their steadfastness\nthat they would die together rather than leave the field.\n\"Valiant and noble must be he who has such knights for his kin,\" he\nsaid, meaning Lancelot; \"and likely to be a worthy man is he who leads\nsuch knights as these.\"\nThen he rode to the king with the hundred knights and said,--\n\"Sir, leave off fighting with these twenty knights. You can win no honor\nfrom them, you being so many and they so few. I can see by their bearing\nthat they will die rather than leave the field, and that will bring you\nno glory. If this one sided fray goes on I will join them and give them\nwhat help I can.\"\n\"You shall not do so,\" said the king. \"You speak in knightly courtesy,\nand I will withdraw my men at your request. I know how courage favors\ncourage, and like draws to like.\"\nThen the king called off his knights, and withdrew from the combat with\nLancelot's kindred.\nMeanwhile Lancelot was watching for an opportunity to meet Tristram and\nhail him as a fellow in heart and hand, but before he could do so\nTristram, Dinadan, and Gouvernail suddenly left the lists and rode into\nthe forest, no man perceiving whither they had gone.\nThen Arthur blew to lodging, and gave the prize of the day to the king\nof Northgalis, as the true champion of the tournament was on his side\nand had vanished. Lancelot rode hither and thither, vainly seeking him,\nwhile a cry that might have been heard two miles off went up: \"The\nknight with the black shield has won the day!\"\n\"Alas, where has that knight gone!\" said Arthur. \"It is a shame that\nthose in the field have let him thus vanish. With gentleness and\ncourtesy they might have brought him to me at the Castle of Maidens,\nwhere I should have been glad to show him the highest honor.\"\nThen he went to the knights of his party and comforted them for their\ndiscomfiture.\n\"Be not dismayed, my fair fellows,\" he said, \"though you have lost the\nfield, and many of you are the worst in body and mind. Be of good cheer,\nfor to-morrow we fight again. How the day will go I cannot say, but I\nwill be in the lists with you, and lend you what aid is in my arm.\"\nDuring that day's fight Dame Bragwaine had sat near Queen Guenever,\nobserving Tristram's valorous deeds. But when the queen asked her why\nshe had come thither, she would not tell the real reason, but said\nonly,--\n\"Madam, I came for no other cause than that my lady, La Belle Isolde,\nsent me to inquire after your welfare.\"\nAfter the fray was done she took leave of the queen and rode into the\nforest in search of Sir Tristram. As she went onward she heard a great\ncry, and sent her squire to learn what it might mean. He quickly came to\na forest fountain, and here he found a knight bound to a tree, crying\nout like a madman, while his horse and harness stood by. When he saw the\nsquire, he started so furiously that he broke his bonds, and then ran\nafter him, sword in hand, as if to slay him. The squire at this spurred\nhis horse and rode swiftly back to Dame Bragwaine, whom he told of his\nadventure.\nSoon afterwards she found Tristram, who had set up his pavilion in the\nforest, and told him of the incident.\n\"Then, on my head, there is mischief here afloat,\" said Tristram; \"some\ngood knight has gone distracted.\"\nTaking his horse and sword he rode to the place, and there he found the\nknight complaining woefully.\n\"What misfortune has befallen me?\" he lamented; \"I, woeful Palamides,\nwho am defiled with falsehood and treason through Sir Bors and Sir\nHector! Alas, why live I so long?\"\nThen he took his sword in his hands, and with many strange signs and\nmovements flung it into the fountain. This done, he wailed bitterly and\nwrung his hands, but at the end he ran to his middle in the water and\nsought again for his sword. Tristram, seeing this, ran upon him and\nclasped him in his arms, fearing he would kill himself.\n\"Who are you that holds me so tightly?\" said Palamides.\n\"I am a man of this forest, and mean you no harm, but would save you\nfrom injury.\"\n\"Alas!\" said the knight, \"I shall never win honor where Sir Tristram is.\nWhere he is not, only Lancelot or Lamorak can win from me the prize.\nMore than once he has put me to the worse.\"\n\"What would you do if you had him?\"\n\"I would fight him and ease my heart. And yet, sooth to say, he is a\ngentle and noble knight.\"\n\"Will you go with me to my lodging?\"\n\"No; I will go to the king with the hundred knights. He rescued me from\nBors and Hector, or they had slain me treacherously.\"\nBut by kind words Tristram got him to his pavilion, where he did what he\ncould to cheer him. But Palamides could not sleep for anguish of soul,\nand rose before dawn and secretly left the tent, making his way to the\npavilions of Gaheris and Sagramour le Desirous, who had been his\ncompanions in the tournament.\nNot far had the next day's sun risen in the eastern sky, when King\nArthur bade the heralds blow the call to the lists, and with warlike\nhaste the knights came crowding in to the last day of the well-fought\ntournament.\nFiercely began the fray, King Carados and his ally, the king of Ireland,\nbeing smitten from their horses early in the day. Then came in Palamides\nfull of fury, and made sad work among his foes, being known to all by\nhis indented shield.\nBut this day King Arthur, as he had promised, rode in shining armor into\nthe field, and fought so valorously that the king of Northgalis and his\nparty had much the worse of the combat.\nWhile the fight thus went on in all its fury, Tristram rode in, still\nbearing his black shield. Encountering Palamides, he gave him such a\nthrust that he was driven over his horse's croup. Then King Arthur\ncried,--\n\"Knight with the black shield, make ready for me!\"\nBut the king met with the same fate from Tristram's spear that Palamides\nhad done, and was hurled to the earth. Seeing this, a rush of the\nknights of his party drove back the foe, and Arthur and Palamides were\nhelped to their saddles again.\nAnd now the king, his heart burning with warlike fury, rushed fiercely\non Tristram, and struck him so furious a blow that he was hurled from\nhis horse. As he lay there Palamides spurred upon him in a violent rage,\nand sought to override him as he was rising to his feet. But Tristram\nsaw his purpose and sprang aside. As Palamides rode past he wrathfully\ncaught him by the arm and pulled him from his horse.\n\"Sword to sword let it be!\" cried Tristram.\nPalamides, nothing loth, drew his weapon, and so fierce a combat began\nin the midst of the arena that lords and ladies alike stood in their\nseats in eagerness to behold it. But at the last Tristram struck\nPalamides three mighty strokes on the helm, crying with each stroke,\n\"Take this for Sir Tristram's sake!\"\nSo fierce were the blows that Palamides was felled to the earth. Then\nthe king with the hundred knights dashed forward and brought Tristram\nhis horse. Palamides was horsed at the same time, and with burning ire\nhe rushed upon Tristram, spear in rest, before he could make ready to\nmeet him. But Tristram lightly avoided the spear, and, enraged at his\nrepeated treachery, he caught him with both hands by the neck as his\nhorse bore him past, tore him clean from the saddle, and carried him\nthus ten spears' length across the field before he let him fall.\nAt that moment King Arthur spurred upon the Cornish champion, sword in\nhand, and Tristram fixed his spear to meet him, but with a sword-blow\nArthur cut the spear in two, and then dealt him three or four vigorous\nstrokes before he could draw. But at the last Tristram drew his sword\nand assailed the king with equal energy.\nThis battle continued not long, for the press of battling knights forced\nthe combatants asunder. Then Tristram rode hither and thither, striking\nand parrying, so that that day he smote down in all eleven of the good\nknights of King Ban's blood, while all in seats and gallery shouted in\nloud acclaim for the mighty warrior with the black shield.\nThis cry met the ears of Lancelot, who was engaged in another part of\nthe field. Then he got a spear and came towards the cry. Seeing\nTristram standing without an antagonist, he cried out,--\n\"Knight with the black shield, well and worthily have you done; now make\nready to joust with me.\"\nWhen Tristram heard this he put his spear in rest, and both with lowered\nheads rode together with lightning speed. Tristram's spear broke into\nfragments on Lancelot's shield; but Lancelot, by ill-fortune, smote him\nin the side, wounding him deeply. He kept his saddle, however, and,\ndrawing his sword, rushed upon Lancelot and gave him three such strokes\nthat fire flew from his helm, and he was forced to lower his head\ntowards his saddle-bow. This done, Tristram left the field, for he felt\nas if he would die. But Dinadan espied him and followed him into the\nforest.\nAfter Tristram left the lists, Lancelot fought like a man beside\nhimself, many a noble knight going down before his spear and sword. King\nArthur, seeing against what odds he fought, came quickly to his aid,\nwith the knights of his own kindred, and in the end they won the day\nagainst the king of Northgalis and his followers. So the prize was\nadjudged to Lancelot.\nBut neither for king, queen, nor knights would he accept it, and when\nthe cry was raised by the heralds,--\n\"Sir Lancelot, Sir Lancelot has won the field this day!\" he bade them\nchange, and cry instead,--\n\"The knight with the black shield has won the day.\"\nBut the estates and the commonalty cried out together,--\n\"Sir Lancelot has won the field, whoever say nay!\"\nThis filled Lancelot with shame and anger, and he rode with a lowering\nbrow to King Arthur, to whom he cried,--\n\"The knight with the black shield is the hero of the lists. For three\ndays he held against all, till he got that unlucky wound. The prize, I\nsay, is his.\"\n\"Sir Tristram it is,\" said the king. \"I heard him shout his name three\ntimes when he gave those mighty strokes to Palamides. Never better nor\nnobler knight took spear or sword in hand. He was hurt indeed; but when\ntwo noble warriors encounter one must have the worst.\"\n\"Had I known him I would not have hurt him for all my father's lands,\"\nsaid Lancelot. \"Only lately he risked his life for me, when he fought\nwith thirty knights, with no help but Dinadan. This is poor requital for\nhis noble service.\"\nThen they sought Tristram in the forest, but in vain. They found the\nplace where his pavilion had been pitched, but it was gone and all trace\nof its owner vanished. Thereupon they returned to the Castle of Maidens,\nwhere for three days was held high feast and frolic, and where all who\ncame were warmly welcomed by King Arthur and Queen Guenever.\nCHAPTER IV.\nTHE QUEST OF THE TEN KNIGHTS.\nWhen Tristram was well within the forest shades, he alighted and unlaced\nhis armor and sought to stanch his wound. But so pale did he become that\nDinadan thought he was like to die.\n\"Never dread thee, Dinadan,\" said Tristram, cheerily, \"for I am heart\nwhole, and of this wound I shall soon be healed, by God's mercy.\"\nAs they sat conversing Dinadan saw at a distance Sir Palamides, who was\nriding straight upon them, with seeming evil intent. Dinadan hastily bid\nTristram to withdraw, and offered himself to meet the Saracen and take\nthe chance of life and death with him.\n\"I thank you, Sir Dinadan, for your good will,\" said Tristram, \"but you\nshall see that I am able to handle him.\"\nHe thereupon hastily armed himself, and, mounting his horse, rode to\nmeet Palamides. Then a challenge to joust passed between them, and they\nrode together. But Tristram kept his seat and Palamides got a grievous\nfall, and lay on the earth like one dead.\nLeaving him there with a comrade, Tristram and Dinadan rode on, and\nobtained lodging for that night at the castle of an old knight, who had\nfive sons at the tournament.\nAs for Palamides, when he recovered from his swoon, he well-nigh lost\nhis wits through sheer vexation. He rode headlong forward, wild with\nrage, and meeting a deep stream sought to make his horse leap it. But\nthe horse fell in and was drowned, and the knight himself reached shore\nonly by the barest chance.\nNow, mad with chagrin, he flung off his armor, and sat roaring and\ncrying like a man distracted. As he sat there, a damsel passed by, who\non seeing his distressful state sought to comfort him, but in vain. Then\nshe rode on till she came to the old knight's castle, where Tristram\nwas, and told how she had met a mad knight in the forest.\n\"What shield did he bear?\" asked Tristram.\n\"It was indented with black and white,\" answered the damsel.\n\"That was Palamides. The poor fellow has lost his wits through his bad\nluck. I beg that you bring him to your castle, Sir Darras.\"\nThis the old knight did, for the frenzy of the Saracen had now passed,\nand he readily accompanied him. On reaching the castle he looked\ncuriously at Tristram, whom he felt sure he had seen before, but could\nnot place him in his mind. But his anger against his fortunate rival\ncontinued, and he boasted proudly to Dinadan of what he would do when he\nmet that fellow Tristram.\n\"It seems to me,\" answered Dinadan, \"that you met him not long since,\nand got little good of him. Why did you not hold him when you had him in\nyour hands? You were too easy with the fellow not to pummel him when you\nhad so fine an opportunity.\"\nThis scornful reply silenced the boastful Saracen, who fell into an\nangry moodiness.\nMeanwhile King Arthur was sore at heart at the disappearance of\nTristram, and spoke in reproach to Lancelot as being the cause of his\nloss.\n\"My liege Arthur,\" answered Lancelot, \"you do me ill justice in this.\nWhen men are hot in battle they may well hurt their friends as well as\ntheir foes. As for Tristram, there is no man living whom I would rather\nhelp. If you desire, I will make one of ten knights who will go in\nsearch of him, and not rest two nights in the same place for a year\nuntil we find him.\"\nThis offer pleased the king, who quickly chose nine other knights for\nthe quest, and made them all swear upon the Scriptures to do as Lancelot\nhad proposed.\nWith dawn of the next day these ten knights armed themselves, and rode\nfrom the Castle of Maidens, continuing in company until they came to a\nroadside cross, from which ran out four highways. Here they separated\ninto four parties, each of which followed one of the highways. And far\nand wide they rode through field and forest for many days in quest of\nthe brave knight of Cornwall.\nOf them all, Sir Lucan, the butler, came nearest to good fortune, for\nchance brought him to the castle of the old knight, Sir Darras. Here he\nasked harbor, sending in his name by the porter.\n\"He shall not rest here unless he first joust with me,\" cried Sir\nDaname, the old knight's nephew. \"Bid him make ready, for he must earn\nhis lodging.\"\nBut better had Daname held his peace, for Lucan smote him over his\nhorse's croup, and followed him hotly when he fled into the castle.\n\"This is a shame to our host,\" said Dinadan. \"Let me try conclusions\nwith our doughty butler. It will not do to let him take our castle by\nstorm.\"\nHe thereupon rode against Lucan, and fared still worse, for he got for\nhis pains a spear thrust through the thigh. Then Tristram, in anger,\narmed and followed Lucan, who had ridden on, in search of a more\npeaceful place of shelter. Within a mile he overtook him and bade him\nturn and joust. Nothing loth, Lucan did so, and in his turn got a sore\nfall, though he little dreamed that he had been overthrown by the knight\nof his quest. At this juncture another of the ten knights, Sir Uwaine,\ncame up, and seeing Sir Lucan's misfortune, rode furiously against the\nvictor. His luck was no better, for he was hurled to the ground with a\nsorely wounded side. Having thus revenged his comrades, Tristram\nreturned to the castle.\nMeanwhile a damsel from the Castle of Maidens had come thither, and told\nSir Darras a woeful story. Of his five sons, three had been slain at the\ntournament, and the other two were dangerously wounded, all this having\nbeen done by the knight of the black shield. Deep grief filled the old\nknight's heart at this sad tale. But his sorrow turned to rage when the\ndamsel was shown Tristram's shield and recognized it as that of the\nchampion of the tournament.\n\"So,\" cried the old knight in a hot passion. \"I am harboring here my\nsons' murderer, and troubling myself to give him noble cheer. By my\nfather's grave, I will revenge my boys' death on him and his\ncompanions.\"\nThen in grief and rage he ordered his knights and servants to seize\nTristram, Dinadan, and Palamides, and put them in a strong dungeon he\nhad in the keep of his castle.\nThis was done before the three knights could defend themselves, and for\nmany days they lay in this dismal cell, until Tristram grew so sick from\nhis wound and confinement that he came near to dying. While they lay\nthus in durance vile some knights of Darras's kindred came to the\ncastle, and on hearing the story wished to kill the captives, but this\nthe old knight would not permit, though he determined to hold them close\nprisoners. So deep in time grew Tristram's sickness that his mind nearly\nfailed him, and he was ready to slay himself for pain and grief.\nPalamides gave him what aid he could, though all the time he spoke of\nhis hatred to Tristram, the Cornishman, and of the revenge he yet hoped\nto have. To this Tristram made no reply, but smiled quietly.\nMeanwhile the ten knights continued their fruitless search, some here,\nsome there, while one of them, Gaheris, nephew to King Arthur, made his\nway to King Mark's court, where he was well received.\nAs they sat at table together the king asked his guest what tidings he\nbrought from Arthur's realm of Logris.\n\"Sir,\" he answered, \"King Arthur still reigns nobly, and he lately\npresided at a grand tournament where fought many of the noblest knights\nof the kingdom. But best of them all was a valiant knight who bore a\nblack shield, and who kept the lordship of the lists for three days.\"\n\"Then by my crown it must have been Lancelot, or Palamides the Pagan.\"\n\"Not so. These knights were against him of the black shield.\"\n\"Was it Sir Tristram?\" asked the king.\n\"In sooth you have it now.\"\nThe king held down his head at this, but La Belle Isolde, who was at the\nfeast, heard it with great secret joy, and her love for Tristram grew\nwarmer in her soul.\nBut King Mark nourished treason in his heart, and sought within his\nbrain some device to do dishonor to Tristram and to Arthur's knights.\nSoon afterward Uwaine came to his court and challenged any knight of\nCornwall to meet him in the lists. Two of these, Andred, and Dinas the\nseneschal, accepted the challenge, but both were overthrown. Then King\nMark in a fury cried out against his knights, and Gaheris, as his guest,\nproffered to meet the champion. But when Uwaine saw his shield, he knew\nhim for his own cousin, and refused to joust with him, reproving him for\nbreaking his oath of fellowship as a Knight of the Round Table.\nThis reproof cut Gaheris deeply, and returning to King Mark he took his\nleave of him and his court, saying,--\n\"Sir king, this I must say, that you did a foul shame to yourself and\nyour kingdom when you banished Sir Tristram. Had he stayed here you\nwould not have wanted a champion.\"\nAll this added to the king's rage, and arming himself he waylaid Uwaine\nat a secret place as he was passing unawares, and ran him through the\nbody. But before he could kill him as he designed, Kay the seneschal\ncame that way and flew to the aid of the wounded knight, while King Mark\nrode in dastardly haste away. Kay sought to learn from Uwaine who had\nhurt him, but this he was not able to tell.\nHe then bore him to a neighboring abbey of the black cross, where he\nleft him in the care of the monks. Not far had he ridden from there when\nhe met King Mark, who accosted him courteously, and bade him, if he\nsought an adventure, to ride into the forest of Morris, where he would\nfind one to try his prowess.\n\"I will prove what it is worth,\" said Kay, and bade adieu to the king.\nA mile or two further on he met Gaheris, who, learning his errand,\nwarned him against doing anything at the suggestion of King Mark, who\nmeant but treachery and harm.\n\"Come with me, then,\" said Kay. \"Adventures are not so abundant, and we\ntwo should be able to match the wiles of this dastard king.\"\n\"I shall not fail you,\" said Gaheris.\nInto the forest they then rode till they came to the edge of a little\nlake, known as the Perilous Lake, and here they waited under the\nwoodland shadows.\nIt was now night, but the moon rode high in the skies, and flung its\nsilvery rays wide over the forest glade. As they stood thus, there rode\ninto the moonlit opening a knight all in black armor and on a great\nblack horse, who tilted against Sir Kay. The seneschal's horse was\nsmaller than that of the stranger, and was overthrown by the shock,\nfalling upon its rider, whom it bruised severely.\nDuring this encounter Gaheris had remained hidden under the woodland\nshadows. He now cried sternly,--\n\"Knight, sit thou fast in thy saddle, for I will revenge my fellow;\" and\nrode against the black knight with such fury that he was flung from his\nhorse. Then he turned to a companion of the black knight, who now\nappeared, and hurled him to the earth so violently that he came near to\nbreaking his neck in the fall.\nLeaping from his horse and helping Kay to his feet, Gaheris sternly bade\nhis antagonists to tell their names or they should die.\n\"Beware what you do,\" said the second knight. \"This is King Mark of\nCornwall, and I am his cousin Andred.\"\n\"You are traitors both,\" cried Gaheris, in a fury, \"and have laid this\nambush for us. It were a pity to let such craven rascals live.\"\n\"Spare my life,\" prayed the king, \"and I will make full amends.\"\n\"You a king; and dealing in treachery!\" cried Gaheris. \"You have lived\nlong enough.\"\nWith this he struck fiercely at King Mark with his sword, while the\ndastard king cowered under his shield. Kay attacked Andred at the same\ntime.\nKing Mark now flung himself on his knees before Gaheris and swore on the\ncross of his sword never while he lived to do aught against errant\nknights. And he also swore to be a friend unto Sir Tristram if he should\ncome into Cornwall.\nWith this they let them go, though Kay was eager to slay Andred, for his\ndeeds of treachery against his cousin Tristram. The two knights now rode\nout of the kingdom of Cornwall, and soon after met Lancelot, who asked\nthem what tidings they brought from King Mark's country, and if they had\nlearned aught of Tristram. They answered that they had not, and told him\nof their adventure, at which Lancelot smiled.\n\"You will find it hard to take out of the flesh that which is bred in\nthe bone,\" he said.\nThen Lancelot, Kay, and Gaheris rode together to seek Tristram in the\ncountry of Surluse, not dreaming that he lay in prison not many miles\nfrom the Castle of Maidens.\nLeaving them to pursue their useless journey, we must return to the\nthree prisoners. Tristram still continued sick almost unto death, while\nPalamides, while giving him daily care, continued to rail loudly against\nhim and to boast of how he would yet deal with him. Of this idle\nboasting Dinadan in time had more than he could bear, and broke out\nangrily on the Saracen.\n\"I doubt if you would do him harm if he were here before you,\" he said;\n\"for if a wolf and a sheep were together in prison the wolf would leave\nthe sheep in peace. As for Sir Tristram, against whom you rail like a\nscold, here he lies before you. Now do your worst upon him, Sir\nSaracen, while he is too sick to defend himself.\"\nSurprise and shame overcame Palamides at this announcement, and he\ndropped his head in confusion.\n\"I have heard somewhat too much of your ill will against me;\" said\nTristram, \"but shall let it pass at present, for we are in more danger\nhere from the lord of this place than from each other.\"\nAs they spoke, a damsel brought them their noontide meal, and said as\nshe gave it them,--\n\"Be of good cheer, sir knights, for you are in no peril of your lives.\nSo much I heard my lord, Sir Darras, say this morning.\"\n\"So far your news is good,\" cried Dinadan. \"Good for two of us at least,\nfor this good knight promises to die without waiting for the\nexecutioner.\"\nThe damsel looked upon Tristram, and observing the thinness of his face\nand hands, went and told Sir Darras of what she had heard and seen.\n\"That must not be,\" cried the knight. \"God defend that I should suffer\nthose who came to me for succor to die in my prison. Bring them hither.\"\nThen Tristram was brought to the castle hall on his couch, with the\nother two knights beside him.\n\"Sir knight,\" said the castle lord, \"I am sorry for your sickness, and\nwould not have so noble a knight as you die in prison, though I owe to\nyou the death of three of my sons.\"\n\"As for that,\" said Tristram, \"it was in fair fight, and if they were my\nnext of kin I could not have done otherwise. If I had slain them by\ntreachery, I would have deserved death at your hands.\"\n\"You acted knightly, and for that reason I could not put you to death,\"\nsaid Sir Darras. \"You and your fellows shall go at full liberty, with\nyour horses and armor, on this covenant, that you will be a good friend\nto my two sons who are still living, and that you tell me your name.\"\n\"My name is Tristram de Lyonesse. I was born in Cornwall, and am nephew\nto King Mark. And I promise you by the faith of my body that while I\nlive I shall be a friend to you and your sons, for what you have done to\nus was but by force of nature.\"\n\"If you be the good knight Sir Tristram, I am sorry to have held you in\ndurance, and thank you for your proffer of service. But you must stay\nwith me still till you are well and strong.\"\nTo this Tristram agreed, and staid many more days with the old knight,\ngrowing well rapidly under the healing influence of hope and liberty.\nCHAPTER V.\nTHE KNIGHT WITH THE COVERED SHIELD.\nWhen Tristram's strength had all come back again he took his leave of\nSir Darras, and rode away with Palamides and Dinadan. Soon they came to\na cross-way, and here Tristram said,--\n\"Good sirs, let us here take each his own road, and many fair adventures\nmay come to us all.\"\nTo this they agreed, and Tristram rode on along the main highway, chance\nbringing him that night to a castle in which was Queen Morgan le Fay.\nHere he was given lodging and good cheer, but when he was ready to\ndepart the next day the queen said to him,--\n\"Sir knight, it is one thing to enter this castle and another to leave\nit. You will not depart so easily as you came. Know that you are a\nprisoner.\"\n\"God forfend,\" said Tristram. \"I am just released from prison, and have\nhad enough of that regimen.\"\n\"You shall stay here, nevertheless, till I learn who you are and whence\nyou came, but I promise you no hard quarters.\"\nShe set him, therefore, by her side at table, and made so much of him\nthat a knight who loved her clutched his sword-hilt in jealous rage,\nhalf disposed to rush upon Tristram and run him through unawares.\n\"Tell me your name,\" said the queen, at the end of the repast, \"and you\nshall depart when you will.\"\n\"Thanks for your promise, fair lady. My name is Tristram de Lyonesse.\"\n\"Then I am sorry I made so hasty a promise. But I will hold to my word\nif you will engage to bear a shield which I shall give you to the Castle\nof the Hard Rock, where King Arthur has announced that a tournament is\nto be held. I have heard of your deeds of arms at the Castle of Maidens,\nand hope you will do as much for me at this new tournament.\"\n\"Let me see the shield that you wish me to bear,\" asked Tristram.\nSo the shield was brought. It was golden on its face, and on it was\npainted a king and queen, with a knight standing above them with a foot\non the head of each.\n\"This is a fair shield,\" said Tristram; \"but what signifies the device?\"\n\"It signifies King Arthur and Queen Guenever,\" said Morgan, \"and a\nknight that holds them both in bondage.\"\n\"And who is the knight?\"\n\"That you shall not know at present.\"\nSo Tristram took the shield, not dreaming that it was intended as a\nrebuke to Sir Lancelot, and promised to bear it at the tournament.\nBut as he rode away he was followed by Sir Hemison, the knight who loved\nMorgan le Fay, and whose jealous anger had been roused. Overtaking\nTristram before he had gone far, he rushed upon him at the speed of his\nhorse, crying, in a voice of thunder,--\n\"Sir knight, defend yourself!\"\nThis Tristram did with good effect, for his assailant's spear broke upon\nhis body, while he thrust him through and hurled him to the earth with a\nmortal wound.\n\"Fool, you have brought it on yourself,\" said Tristram. \"It is not my\nfault if you got what you designed for me.\"\nThen he rode on, and left the wounded knight to the care of his squire,\nwho removed his helmet, and asked if his life was in any danger.\n\"There is little life in me,\" said the knight, \"and that is ebbing fast.\nTherefore help me to my saddle, and mount behind me and hold me on so\nthat I shall not fall, and so bring me to Queen Morgan le Fay. For deep\ndraughts of death draw to my heart, and I would fain speak to her before\nI die.\"\nThe squire did as commanded, and brought his bleeding master to the\ncastle, but he died as he entered the hall, falling lifeless at the feet\nof the lady of his love. Much she wept and great lamentation she made\nfor his untimely fate, and buried him in a stately tomb, on which was\nwritten, \"Here lieth Sir Hemison, slain by the hands of Tristram de\nLyonesse.\"\nOn the next day Tristram arrived at the castle of Roche-dure, where he\nsaw the lists prepared for the tournament, with gay pennons flying,\nwhile full five hundred tents were pitched in a fair meadow by the\ngates. Over the seats of honor were silken canopies, that shaded noble\nlords and beautiful ladies clad in gay apparel. Within the lists the\nkings of Scotland and Ireland held out strongly against King Arthur's\nknights, and dread was the noise and turmoil within.\nTristram at once joined in the fray, and smote down many knights; King\nArthur marvelling the while at the device on his shield, while Guenever\ngrew heavy at heart, for well she guessed its meaning.\nEver King Arthur's eye was on that shield, and much he wondered who the\nknight could be, for he had heard that Tristram was in Brittany, and he\nknew that Lancelot was in quest of him, while he knew no other knight of\nequal prowess.\nAs the combat went on, Arthur's knights drove back their antagonists,\nwho began to withdraw from the field. On seeing this the king determined\nthat the knight with the strange shield should not escape, so he armed\nand called Sir Uwaine, entering the lists with him and riding up to\nconfront the unknown knight.\n\"Sir stranger,\" said the king, \"before we fight, I require you to tell\nme where you got that shield.\"\n\"I had it from Morgan le Fay, sister to King Arthur,\" answered Tristram.\n\"Then, if you are worthy to bear it, you are able to tell me its\nmeaning.\"\n\"That I cannot,\" answered the knight. \"It was given me by Queen Morgan,\nnot through any asking of mine. She told me not what it signified, nor\ndo I know, but I promised to bear it worthily.\"\n\"In truth,\" said Arthur, \"no knight should bear arms he cannot\nunderstand. But at least you will tell me your name.\"\n\"To what intent?\" asked Tristram.\n\"Simply that I wish to know.\"\n\"That is small reason. I decline to tell you.\"\n\"If not, we must do battle together.\"\n\"What!\" cried Tristram; \"you will fight me on so small a cause? My name\nis my own, to be given or withheld as I will. It is not honorable for a\nfresh knight to challenge me to battle, after all I have done this day.\nBut if you think you have me at advantage, you may find that I am able\nto hold my own.\"\nThen they put their spears in rest and furiously dashed together across\nthe lists. But King Arthur's spear shivered to splinters on Tristram's\nshield, while he himself got such a blow from the Cornish knight that\nhorse and man fell headlong to the earth, the king with a dangerous\nwound in the side.\nWhen Uwaine saw this he reined back his horse in haste, and crying\nloudly, \"Knight, defend thyself!\" he rode furiously on Tristram. But man\nfared no better than master. Uwaine was borne out of his saddle to the\nearth, while Tristram sat unmoved.\nThen Tristram wheeled his horse and said,--\n\"Fair sirs, I had no need to joust with you, for I have done enough\nto-day; but you forced me to it.\"\n\"We have had what we deserved,\" answered Arthur. \"Yet I would fain know\nyour name, and would further learn if that device on your shield is\nintended as an insult to King Arthur.\"\n\"That you must ask Morgan le Fay: she alone knows. But report says she\ndoes not love her royal brother over much. Yet she told me not what it\nmeans, and I have borne it at her command. As for my name, it shall be\nknown when I will.\"\nSo Tristram departed, and rode far over hill and dale, everywhere\nseeking for Lancelot, with whom he in his heart wished to make\nfellowship. As he went on he came by a forest, on the edge of which\nstood a tall tower, and in front of it a fair level meadow. And here he\nsaw one knight fighting against ten, and bearing himself so well that it\nseemed marvellous that a single man could hold his own so bravely\nagainst such odds. He had slain half their horses, and unhorsed the\nremaining knights, so that their chargers ran free in the field. The ten\nhad then assailed him on foot, and he was bearing up bravely against\nthem.\n\"Cease that battle!\" cried Tristram, loudly, as he came up. \"Ten to one\nare cowards' odds.\" And as he came nearer he saw by his shield that the\none knight was Sir Palamides.\n\"You would be wise not to meddle,\" said the leader of the ten, who was\nthe villanous knight called Breuse San Pit\u00e9. \"Go your way while your\nskin is whole. As for this knight, he is our prey.\"\n\"Say you so!\" cried Tristram. \"There may be two words to that.\"\nAs he spoke he sprang from his horse, lest they should kill it, and\nattacked them on foot with such fury that with every stroke a knight\nfell before him.\nThis was more than they had bargained for, and Breuse fled hastily to\nthe tower, followed by all that were able, while Tristram hotly pursued.\nBut they quickly closed and barred the door, shutting him out. When he\nsaw this he returned to Palamides, whom he found sitting under a tree,\nsorely wounded.\n\"Thanks for your timely aid,\" said the Saracen. \"You have saved my\nlife.\"\n\"What is your name?\" asked Tristram.\n\"It is Sir Palamides.\"\n\"Then have I saved my greatest enemy; and I here challenge you to\nbattle.\"\n\"What is your name?\" asked Palamides.\n\"I am Tristram of Lyonesse.\"\n\"My enemy indeed! yet I owe you thanks for your rescue, nor am I in\ncondition for jousting. But I desire nothing better than to meet you in\nbattle. If you are as eager for it, fix day and place, and I will be\nthere.\"\n\"Well said,\" answered Tristram. \"Let it be in the meadow by the river at\nCamelot, there where Merlin set the tombstone.\"\n\"Agreed. I shall not fail you.\"\n\"How came you in battle with these ten dastards?\"\n\"The chance of journeying brought me into this forest, where I saw a\ndead knight with a lady weeping beside him. I asked her who slew her\nlord, and she told me it was the most villanous knight in the world,\nnamed Breuse Sans Pit\u00e9. I then took her on my horse and promised to see\nthat her lord was properly interred. But as I passed by this tower its\nrascally owner suddenly rode from the gate and struck me unawares so\nhard that I fell from my horse. Before I could recover he killed the\nlady. It was thus the battle began, at which you arrived in good time.\"\n\"It is not safe for you to stay here,\" said Tristram. \"That fellow is\nout of our reach for the present, but you are not in condition to meet\nhim again.\"\nSo they mounted and rode into the forest, where they soon came to a\nsparkling fountain, whose clear water bubbled freshly from the ground.\nHere they alighted and refreshed themselves.\nAs they did so Tristram's horse neighed loudly and was answered by\nanother horse near by. They mounted and rode towards the sound, and\nquickly came in sight of a great war-horse tied to a tree. Under an\nadjoining tree lay a knight asleep, in full armor, save that his helmet\nwas placed under his head for a pillow.\n\"A stout-looking fellow that,\" said Tristram. \"What shall we do?\"\n\"Awake him,\" said Palamides.\nTristram did so, stirring him with the butt of his spear.\nBut they had better have let him sleep, for he sprang angrily to his\nfeet, put on his helmet in haste, and mounting his war-horse seized his\nspear. Without a word he spurred upon Tristram and struck him such a\nblow as to fling him from his saddle to the earth. Then he galloped back\nand came hurling upon Palamides, whom he served in the same rude\nfashion. Leaving them laying there, he turned his horse and rode\nleisurely away.\nWhen the two overthrown knights gained their feet again, they looked at\none another with faces of shame and anger.\n\"Well, what now?\" asked Tristram. \"That is the worst waking I ever did\nin my life. By my troth, I did not fancy there was a knight in Arthur's\nrealm that could have served you and me such a trick. Whatever you do, I\nam going after this woodland champion to have a fairer trial.\"\n\"So would I were I well,\" said Palamides. \"But I am so hurt that I must\nseek rest with a friend of mine near by.\"\n\"I can trust you to meet me at the place appointed?\"\n\"I have cause to have more doubt of you than you of me; for if you\nfollow this strong knight you may not escape with whole bones from the\nadventure. I wish you success.\"\n\"And I wish you health.\"\nWith these words they parted, each riding his own way.\nBut news came to Tristram as he rode on that would have turned many a\nknight from that adventure. For the first day he found a dead knight and\na lady weeping over him, who said that her lord had jousted with a\nstrong champion, who had run him through. On the third day he met the\ngood knights Gawaine and Bleoberis, both wounded, who said they had been\nso served by a knight with a covered shield.\n\"He treated me and Palamides the same way,\" said Tristram, \"and I am on\nhis track to repay him.\"\n\"By my faith, you had best turn back,\" said Gawaine.\n\"By my head, I will not,\" said Tristram, and he rode on in pursuit.\nThe next day he met Kay the seneschal and Dinadan in a meadow.\n\"What tidings have you?\" he asked.\n\"Not good,\" they answered.\n\"Tell me what they are. I ride in search of a knight.\"\n\"What cognizance does he bear?\"\n\"He carries a shield covered by a cloth.\"\n\"Then you are not far from him,\" said Kay. \"We lodged last night in a\nwidow's house, and that knight sought the same lodging. And when he\nknew we were of Arthur's court he spoke villanous things of the king,\nand worse of Queen Guenever. The next day we waged battle with him for\nthis insult. But at the first encounter he flung me from my horse with a\nsore hurt. And when Dinadan here saw me down he showed more prudence\nthan valor, for he fled to save his skin.\"\nAfter some further words Tristram rode on; but days passed and he found\nnot the knight with the covered shield, though he heard more tales of\nhis irresistible prowess. Then, finding that his armor was bruised and\nbroken with long use, he sent Gouvernail, his squire, to a city near by\nto bring him fresh apparel, and rested at a priory till he came.\nOn Gouvernail's return he donned his new armor, and turned his horse's\nhead towards Camelot, seeking the point where he had engaged to do\nbattle with Palamides. This was at the tomb of Lanceor, son of the king\nof Ireland, who had been slain by Balin, and whose lady Columbe had\nslain herself, as we have already told. His tomb had been set up near\nthe river by Merlin, and it had become a place of pilgrimage for true\nlovers and faithful wedded pairs.\nTristram did not get there without more battling, for the roads around\nCamelot then swarmed with errant knights, eager to show their strength.\nYet he was none the worse for these encounters when he rode up to the\ntomb where he hoped to find Palamides in waiting. But instead of the\nSaracen he saw a knight approaching in white armor, who bore a shield\ncovered with a dark cloth.\n\"Sir knight, you are welcome; none more so,\" cried Tristram. \"I have\nsought you far and near, and have an ugly fall to repay you for; and\nalso owe you a lesson for your revilement of King Arthur and his fair\nqueen.\"\n\"Shorter words and longer deeds would serve better,\" said the stranger\nknight. \"Make ready, my good fellow, if one fall is not enough to\nsatisfy you.\"\nThen they rode apart to a fair distance, and putting spurs to their\nhorses hurtled together with headlong speed. So fiercely met they,\nindeed, that horses and knights together went toppling to the earth,\nboth those brave warriors kissing the dust.\nWith all haste they regained their feet, put their shields before them,\nand struck at each other with bright swords like men of might. The\nbattle that followed was such a one as that ground had never seen, for\nthose two knights seemed rather giants than men. For four hours they\nkept up the combat, neither speaking a word, till at the end their armor\nwas hewn off in many places, and blood had flowed from their wounds till\nthe grass was turned from green to crimson.\nThe squires looked on in wonder, and boasted of the might of their\nlords, though their hearts grew heavy when they saw the bright swords so\nreddened with blood.\nAt last the unknown knight rested on his weapon, and said,--\n\"Sir stranger, you are the best fighter I ever saw in armor. I would\nknow you better, and beg to learn your name.\"\n\"I care not to tell it,\" said Tristram.\n\"Why not? I never make my name a secret.\"\n\"Then pray tell it, for I would give much to know the name of the\nstoutest knight I ever drew sword upon.\"\n\"Fair sir, my name is Lancelot du Lake.\"\n\"Alas, can this be so? Have I fought thus against the man I love best in\nthe world?\"\n\"Then who are you?\"\n\"My name is Tristram de Lyonesse.\"\n\"Oh, what strange chance is this! Take my sword, Sir Tristram, for you\nhave earned it well.\"\nAnd he knelt and yielded Tristram his sword.\nTristram in turn knelt and yielded up his. And thus with exchange of\nwords they gave each other the degree of brotherhood. Then they sat\ntogether on the stone, and took off their helms to cool their heated\nfaces, and kissed each other with brotherly ardor.\nWhen they had rested and conversed long in the most loving amity, and\ntheir squires had salved and bandaged their wounds, they mounted and\nrode towards Camelot.\nNear the gates of the city they met Gawaine and Gaheris, who were\nsetting out in search of Tristram, having promised King Arthur never to\nreturn till they could bring the valiant knight of Cornwall with them.\n\"Return, then, for your quest is done,\" said Lancelot. \"I have found Sir\nTristram, and here he is in person.\"\n\"Then, by my life, you are heartily welcome!\" cried Gawaine. \"You have\neased me from great labor, and there are ten others seeking you. Why\ncame you hither of yourself?\"\n\"I had a challenge with Sir Palamides to do battle with him at Lanceor's\ntomb this day, and I know not why he has failed me. By lucky chance my\nlord Lancelot and I met there, and well have we tried each other's\nstrength.\"\nThus conversing they came to the court, where King Arthur, when he\nlearned the name of Lancelot's companion, was filled with joy. Taking\nTristram warmly by both hands, he welcomed him to Camelot.\n\"There is no other man in the world whom I would so gladly have here,\"\nhe said. \"Much have you been sought for since you left the tournament,\nbut in vain. I would fain learn your adventures.\"\nThese Tristram told, and the king was amazed when he learned that it was\nhe who had overthrown him at the Castle of Hard Rock. Then he told of\nhis pursuit of the knight with the covered shield, and of the deeds he\nhad done.\n\"By our faith,\" cried Gawaine, Bleoberis, and Kay, \"we can testify to\nthat, for he left us all on the ground.\"\n\"Aha! who could this strong fellow have been?\" asked Arthur. \"Did any of\nyou know him?\"\nThey all declared that he was a stranger to them, though Tristram kept\nsilent.\n\"If you know not, I do; it was Lancelot or none,\" cried the king.\n\"In faith, I fancy so,\" said Tristram, \"for I found him to-day, and we\nhad a four hours' fight together, before each found out the other.\"\n\"So,\" they all cried, \"it is he who has beguiled us with his covered\nshield!\"\n\"You say truly,\" answered Lancelot, with a smile. \"And I called myself\nan enemy of King Arthur so that none should suspect me. I was in search\nof sport.\"\n\"That is an old trick of yours,\" said Arthur.\n\"One must go in disguise in these days, or go untried,\" laughed\nLancelot.\nThen Queen Guenever, and many ladies of the court, learning that\nTristram was there, came and bade him welcome, ladies and knights\ntogether crying, \"Welcome, Sir Tristram! welcome to Camelot!\"\n\"Welcome, indeed,\" said Arthur, \"to one of the best and gentlest knights\nof the world, and the man of highest esteem. For of all modes of\nhunting, you bear the prize, and of all bugle hunting calls you are the\norigin, and all the terms of hunting and hawking began with you; on all\ninstruments of music no man surpasses you: therefore, you are trebly\nwelcome to this court. And here I pray you to grant me a boon.\"\n\"I am at your command,\" said Tristram.\n\"It is that you abide in my court, and be one of my knights.\"\n\"That I am loath to do, for I have work laid out elsewhere.\"\n\"Yet you have passed your word. You shall not say me nay.\"\n\"Then be it as you will,\" said Tristram.\n[Illustration: ADMISSION OF SIR TRISTRAM TO THE KING OF THE ROUND\nTABLE.]\nThese words spoken, Arthur took Tristram by the hand and led him to the\nRound Table, going with him round its circle, and looking into every\nseat that lacked a knight. When at length he came to that in which Sir\nMarhaus had formerly sat, he saw there engraved in letters of gold,\n\"This is the seat of the noble knight Sir Tristram.\"\nThen Arthur made Tristram a Knight of the Round Table with noble\nceremony and great pomp, and with feasts that lasted many days. Glad\nwere all there to have a knight of such prowess and high esteem in their\ncompany, and many friends Tristram made among his new brothers-in-arms.\nBut chief of all these was Lancelot, and for days together Lancelot and\nTristram kept genial company, while their brotherhood gave joy to all,\nand most of all to King Arthur, who felt that the glory of his reign was\nnow at its height, and that two such knights as these would spread the\nrenown of the Round Table throughout the world.\nEND OF VOL. I.\nTranscriber's note:\nFifteen spelling errors have been corrected as follows:\n Pg. 38 \"Tintagel\" to \"Tintagil\" (15) (the Duke of Tintagil)\n Pg. 74 \"churchyard\" to \"church-yard\" (4) (near a church-yard)\n Pg. 114 \"way-side\" to \"wayside\" (2) (they reached a wayside)\n Pg. 166 \"eat\" to \"ate\" (of which Kay ate heartily)\n Pg. 200 \"vassels\" to \"vassals\" (4) (dead or my vassals)\n Pg. 206 \"swept\" to \"wept\" (wept for pity.)\n Pg. 212 \"therefor\" to \"therefore\" (24) (and sureties therefore.\")\n Pg. 223 \"Badgemagus\" to \"Bagdemagus\" (11) (King Bagdemagus)\n Pg. 246 \"togther\" to \"together\" (together in furious)\n Pg. 281 \"threatingly\" to \"threateningly\" (shook the sword\n threateningly)\n Pg. 284 \"say\" to \"saw\" (when he saw him coming)\n Pg. 287 \"beleagured\" to \"beleaguered\" (a hundred beleaguered him)\n Pg. 291 \"is\" to \"if\" (seemed as if she returned his love)\n Pg. 298 \"Taulurd\" to \"Taulard\" (2) (brother to that Taulard)\n Pg. 336 \"wellnigh\" to \"well-nigh\" (2) (he well-nigh lost his wits)\nThe following list of similar words appear in the original text and\nhave been retained.\n \"Percival\" (p 12) and \"Percivale\" (elsewhere)\n \"lady Colombe\" (p 65) and \"lady Columbe\" (p 355)\n \"gerfalcon\" (p 135) and \"jerfalcon\" (p 221)\n \"Sagramore\" and \"Sagramour\"\n \"villain\" (17) and \"villanous\" (8) and villany (3)", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg - Historic Tales"}, {"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1451, "culture": " English\n", "content": "Produced by Mike Lough, and David Widger\nLe Morte D\u2019Arthur\nKing Arthur and of his Noble Knights of the Round Table\nby Thomas Malory\nIN TWO VOLS.\u2014VOL. I\nContents\n BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE\n PREFACE OF WILLIAM CAXTON\n BOOK I.\n CHAPTER I. First, How Uther Pendragon sent for the duke of Cornwall\n and Igraine his wife, and of their departing suddenly again.\n CHAPTER II. How Uther Pendragon made war on the duke of Cornwall, and\n how by the mean of Merlin he lay by the duchess and gat Arthur.\n CHAPTER III. Of the birth of King Arthur and of his nurture.\n CHAPTER IV. Of the death of King Uther Pendragon.\n CHAPTER V. How Arthur was chosen king, and of wonders and marvels of a\n sword taken out of a stone by the said Arthur.\n CHAPTER VI. How King Arthur pulled out the sword divers times.\n CHAPTER VII. How King Arthur was crowned, and how he made officers.\n CHAPTER VIII. How King Arthur held in Wales, at a Pentecost, a great\n feast, and what kings and lords came to his feast.\n CHAPTER IX. Of the first war that King Arthur had, and how he won the\n field.\n CHAPTER X. How Merlin counselled King Arthur to send for King Ban and\n King Bors, and of their counsel taken for the war.\n CHAPTER XI. Of a great tourney made by King Arthur and the two kings\n Ban and Bors, and how they went over the sea.\n CHAPTER XII. How eleven kings gathered a great host against King\n Arthur.\n CHAPTER XIII. Of a dream of the King with the Hundred Knights.\n CHAPTER XIV. How the eleven kings with their host fought against\n Arthur and his host, and many great feats of the war.\n CHAPTER XV. Yet of the same battle.\n CHAPTER XVI. Yet more of the same battle.\n CHAPTER XVII. Yet more of the same battle, and how it was ended by\n Merlin.\n CHAPTER XVIII. How King Arthur, King Ban, and King Bors rescued King\n Leodegrance, and other incidents.\n CHAPTER XIX. How King Arthur rode to Carlion, and of his dream, and\n how he saw the questing beast.\n CHAPTER XX. How King Pellinore took Arthur's horse and followed the\n Questing Beast, and how Merlin met with Arthur.\n CHAPTER XXI. How Ulfius impeached Queen Igraine, Arthur's mother, of\n treason; and how a knight came and desired to have the death of his\n master revenged.\n CHAPTER XXII. How Griflet was made knight, and jousted with a knight\n CHAPTER XXIII. How twelve knights came from Rome and asked truage for\n this land of Arthur, and how Arthur fought with a knight.\n CHAPTER XXIV. How Merlin saved Arthur's life, and threw an enchantment\n on King Pellinore and made him to sleep.\n CHAPTER XXV. How Arthur by the mean of Merlin gat Excalibur his sword\n of the Lady of the Lake.\n CHAPTER XXVI. How tidings came to Arthur that King Rience had overcome\n eleven kings, and how he desired Arthur's beard to trim his mantle.\n CHAPTER XXVII. How all the children were sent for that were born on\n May-day, and how Mordred was saved.\n BOOK II.\n CHAPTER I. Of a damosel which came girt with a sword for to find a man\n of such virtue to draw it out of the scabbard.\n CHAPTER II. How Balin, arrayed like a poor knight, pulled out the\n sword, which afterward was the cause of his death.\n CHAPTER III. How the Lady of the Lake demanded the knight's head that\n had won the sword, or the maiden's head.\n CHAPTER IV. How Merlin told the adventure of this damosel.\n CHAPTER V. How Balin was pursued by Sir Lanceor, knight of Ireland,\n and how he jousted and slew him.\n CHAPTER VI. How a damosel, which was love to Lanceor, slew herself for\n love, and how Balin met with his brother Balan.\n CHAPTER VII. How a dwarf reproved Balin for the death of Lanceor, and\n how King Mark of Cornwall found them, and made a tomb over them.\n CHAPTER VIII. How Merlin prophesied that two the best knights of the\n world should fight there, which were Sir Lancelot and Sir Tristram.\n CHAPTER IX. How Balin and his brother, by the counsel of Merlin, took\n King Rience and brought him to King Arthur.\n CHAPTER X. How King Arthur had a battle against Nero and King Lot of\n Orkney, and how King Lot was deceived by Merlin, and how twelve kings\n were slain.\n CHAPTER XI. Of the interment of twelve kings, and of the prophecy of\n Merlin, and how Balin should give the dolorous stroke.\n CHAPTER XII. How a sorrowful knight came before Arthur, and how Balin\n fetched him, and how that knight was slain by a knight invisible.\n CHAPTER XIII. How Balin and the damosel met with a knight which was in\n likewise slain, and how the damosel bled for the custom of a castle.\n CHAPTER XIV. How Balin met with that knight named Garlon at a feast,\n and there he slew him, to have his blood to heal therewith the son of\n his host.\n CHAPTER XV. How Balin fought with King Pellam, and how his sword\n brake, and how he gat a spear wherewith he smote the dolorous stroke.\n CHAPTER XVI. How Balin was delivered by Merlin, and saved a knight\n that would have slain himself for love.\n CHAPTER XVII. How that knight slew his love and a knight lying by her,\n and after, how he slew himself with his own sword, and how Balin rode\n toward a castle where he lost his life.\n CHAPTER XVIII. How Balin met with his brother Balan, and how each of\n them slew other unknown, till they were wounded to death.\n CHAPTER XIX. How Merlin buried them both in one tomb, and of Balin's\n sword.\n BOOK III.\n CHAPTER I. How King Arthur took a wife, and wedded Guenever, daughter\n to Leodegrance, King of the Land of Cameliard, with whom he had the\n Round Table.\n CHAPTER II. How the Knights of the Round Table were ordained and their\n sieges blessed by the Bishop of Canterbury.\n CHAPTER III. How a poor man riding upon a lean mare desired King\n Arthur to make his son knight.\n CHAPTER IV. How Sir Tor was known for son of King Pellinore, and how\n Gawaine was made knight.\n CHAPTER V. How at feast of the wedding of King Arthur to Guenever, a\n white hart came into the hall, and thirty couple hounds, and how a\n brachet pinched the hart which was taken away.\n CHAPTER VI. How Sir Gawaine rode for to fetch again the hart, and how\n two brethren fought each against other for the hart.\n CHAPTER VII How the hart was chased into a castle and there slain, and\n how Sir Gawaine slew a lady.\n CHAPTER VIII. How four knights fought against Gawaine and Gaheris, and\n how they were overcome, and their lives saved at request of four\n ladies.\n CHAPTER IX. How Sir Tor rode after the knight with the brachet, and of\n his adventure by the way.\n CHAPTER X. How Sir Tor found the brachet with a lady, and how a knight\n assailed him for the said brachet.\n CHAPTER XI. How Sir Tor overcame the knight, and how he lost his head\n at the request of a lady.\n CHAPTER XII. How King Pellinore rode after the lady and the knight\n that led her away, and how a lady desired help of him, and how he\n fought with two knights for that lady, of whom he slew the one at the\n first stroke.\n CHAPTER XIII. How King Pellinore gat the lady and brought her to\n Camelot to the court of King Arthur.\n CHAPTER XIV. How on the way he heard two knights, as he lay by night\n in a valley, and of their adventures.\n CHAPTER XV. How when he was come to Camelot he was sworn upon a book\n to tell the truth of his quest.\n BOOK IV.\n CHAPTER I. How Merlin was assotted and doted on one of the ladies of\n the lake, and how he was shut in a rock under a stone and there died.\n CHAPTER II. How five kings came into this land to war against King\n Arthur, and what counsel Arthur had against them.\n CHAPTER III. How King Arthur had ado with them and overthrew them, and\n slew the five kings and made the remnant to flee.\n CHAPTER IV. How the battle was finished or he came, and how King\n Arthur founded an abbey where the battle was.\n CHAPTER V. How Sir Tor was made knight of the Round Table, and how\n Bagdemagus was displeased.\n CHAPTER VI. How King Arthur, King Uriens, and Sir Accolon of Gaul,\n chased an hart, and of their marvellous adventures.\n CHAPTER VII. How Arthur took upon him to fight to be delivered out of\n prison, and also for to deliver twenty knights that were in prison.\n CHAPTER VIII. How Accolon found himself by a well, and he took upon\n him to do battle against Arthur.\n CHAPTER IX. Of the battle between King Arthur and Accolon.\n CHAPTER X. How King Arthur's sword that he fought with brake, and how\n he recovered of Accolon his own sword Excalibur, and overcame his\n enemy.\n CHAPTER XI. How Accolon confessed the treason of Morgan le Fay, King\n Arthur's sister, and how she would have done slay him.\n CHAPTER XII. How Arthur accorded the two brethren, and delivered the\n twenty knights, and how Sir Accolon died.\n CHAPTER XIII. How Morgan would have slain Sir Uriens her husband, and\n how Sir Uwaine her son saved him.\n CHAPTER XIV. How Queen Morgan le Fay made great sorrow for the death\n of Accolon, and how she stole away the scabbard from Arthur.\n CHAPTER XV. How Morgan le Fay saved a knight that should have been\n drowned, and how King Arthur returned home again.\n CHAPTER XVI. How the Damosel of the Lake saved King Arthur from mantle\n that should have burnt him.\n CHAPTER XVII. How Sir Gawaine and Sir Uwaine met with twelve fair\n damosels, and how they complained on Sir Marhaus.\n CHAPTER XVIII. How Sir Marhaus jousted with Sir Gawaine and Sir\n Uwaine, and overthrew them both.\n CHAPTER XIX. How Sir Marhaus, Sir Gawaine, and Sir Uwaine met three\n damosels, and each of them took one.\n CHAPTER XX. How a knight and a dwarf strove for a lady.\n CHAPTER XXI. How King Pelleas suffered himself to be taken prisoner\n because he would have a sight of his lady, and how Sir Gawaine\n promised him to get to him the love of his lady.\n CHAPTER XXII. How Sir Gawaine came to the Lady Ettard, and how Sir\n Pelleas found them sleeping.\n CHAPTER XXIII. How Sir Pelleas loved no more Ettard by means of the\n Damosel of the Lake, whom he loved ever after.\n CHAPTER XXIV. How Sir Marhaus rode with the damosel, and how he came\n to the Duke of the South Marches.\n CHAPTER XXV. How Sir Marhaus fought with the duke and his four sons\n and made them to yield them.\n CHAPTER XXVI. How Sir Uwaine rode with the damosel of sixty year of\n age, and how he gat the prize at tourneying.\n CHAPTER XXVII. How Sir Uwaine fought with two knights and overcame\n them.\n CHAPTER XXVIII. How at the year's end all three knights with their\n three damosels met at the fountain.\n BOOK V.\n CHAPTER I. How twelve aged ambassadors of Rome came to King Arthur to\n demand truage for Britain.\n CHAPTER II. How the kings and lords promised to King Arthur aid and\n help against the Romans.\n CHAPTER III. How King Arthur held a parliament at York, and how he\n ordained the realm should be governed in his absence.\n CHAPTER IV. How King Arthur being shipped and lying in his cabin had a\n marvellous dream and of the exposition thereof.\n CHAPTER V. How a man of the country told to him of a marvellous giant,\n and how he fought and conquered him.\n CHAPTER VI. How King Arthur sent Sir Gawaine and other to Lucius, and\n how they were assailed and escaped with worship.\n CHAPTER VII. How Lucius sent certain spies in a bushment for to have\n taken his knights being prisoners, and how they were letted.\n CHAPTER VIII. How a senator told to Lucius of their discomfiture, and\n also of the great battle between Arthur and Lucius.\n CHAPTER IX How Arthur, after he had achieved the battle against the\n Romans, entered into Almaine, and so into Italy.\n CHAPTER X. Of a battle done by Sir Gawaine against a Saracen, which\n after was yielden and became Christian.\n CHAPTER XI. How the Saracens came out of a wood for to rescue their\n beasts, and of a great battle.\n CHAPTER XII. How Sir Gawaine returned to King Arthur with his\n prisoners, and how the King won a city, and how he was crowned\n Emperor.\n BOOK VI.\n CHAPTER I. How Sir Launcelot and Sir Lionel departed from the court,\n and how Sir Lionel left him sleeping and was taken.\n CHAPTER II. How Sir Ector followed for to seek Sir Launcelot, and how\n he was taken by Sir Turquine.\n CHAPTER III How four queens found Launcelot sleeping, and how by\n enchantment he was taken and led into a castle.\n CHAPTER IV. How Sir Launcelot was delivered by the mean of a damosel.\n CHAPTER V. How a knight found Sir Launcelot lying in his leman's bed,\n and how Sir Launcelot fought with the knight.\n CHAPTER VI. How Sir Launcelot was received of King Bagdemagus'\n daughter, and how he made his complaint to her father.\n CHAPTER VII. How Sir Launcelot behaved him in a tournament, and how he\n met with Sir Turquine leading Sir Gaheris.\n CHAPTER VIII. How Sir Launcelot and Sir Turquine fought together.\n CHAPTER IX. How Sir Turquine was slain, and how Sir Launcelot bade Sir\n Gaheris deliver all the prisoners.\n CHAPTER X. How Sir Launcelot rode with a damosel and slew a knight\n that distressed all ladies and also a villain that kept a bridge.\n CHAPTER XI. How Sir Launcelot slew two giants, and made a castle free.\n CHAPTER XII. How Sir Launcelot rode disguised in Sir Kay's harness,\n and how he smote down a knight.\n CHAPTER XIII. How Sir Launcelot jousted against four knights of the\n Round Table and overthrew them.\n CHAPTER XIV. How Sir Launcelot followed a brachet into a castle, where\n he found a dead knight, and how he after was required of a damosel to\n heal her brother.\n CHAPTER XV. How Sir Launcelot came into the Chapel Perilous and gat\n there of a dead corpse a piece of the cloth and a sword.\n CHAPTER XVI. How Sir Launcelot at the request of a lady recovered a\n falcon, by which he was deceived.\n CHAPTER XVII. How Sir Launcelot overtook a knight which chased his\n wife to have slain her, and how he said to him.\n CHAPTER XVIII. How Sir Launcelot came to King Arthur's Court, and how\n there were recounted all his noble feats and acts.\n BOOK VII.\n CHAPTER I. How Beaumains came to King Arthur's Court and demanded\n three petitions of King Arthur.\n CHAPTER II. How Sir Launcelot and Sir Gawaine were wroth because Sir\n Kay mocked Beaumains, and of a damosel which desired a knight to fight\n for a lady.\n CHAPTER III. How Beaumains desired the battle, and how it was granted\n to him, and how he desired to be made knight of Sir Launcelot.\n CHAPTER IV. How Beaumains departed, and how he gat of Sir Kay a spear\n and a shield, and how he jousted with Sir Launcelot.\n CHAPTER V. How Beaumains told to Sir Launcelot his name, and how he\n was dubbed knight of Sir Launcelot, and after overtook the damosel.\n CHAPTER VI. How Beaumains fought and slew two knights at a passage.\n CHAPTER VII. How Beaumains fought with the Knight of the Black Launds,\n and fought with him till he fell down and died.\n CHAPTER VIII. How the brother of the knight that was slain met with\n Beaumains, and fought with Beaumains till he was yielden.\n CHAPTER IX. How the damosel again rebuked Beaumains, and would not\n suffer him to sit at her table, but called him kitchen boy.\n CHAPTER X. How the third brother, called the Red Knight, jousted and\n fought against Beaumains, and how Beaumains overcame him.\n CHAPTER XI. How Sir Beaumains suffered great rebukes of the damosel,\n and he suffered it patiently.\n CHAPTER XII. How Beaumains fought with Sir Persant of Inde, and made\n him to be yielden.\n CHAPTER XIII. Of the goodly communication between Sir Persant and\n Beaumains, and how he told him that his name was Sir Gareth.\n CHAPTER XIV. How the lady that was besieged had word from her sister\n how she had brought a knight to fight for her, and what battles he had\n achieved.\n CHAPTER XV. How the damosel and Beaumains came to the siege; and came\n to a sycamore tree, and there Beaumains blew a horn, and then the\n Knight of the Red Launds came to fight with him.\n CHAPTER XVI. How the two knights met together, and of their talking,\n and how they began their battle.\n CHAPTER XVII. How after long fighting Beaumains overcame the knight\n and would have slain him, but at the request of the lords he saved his\n life, and made him to yield him to the lady.\n CHAPTER XVIII. How the knight yielded him, and how Beaumains made him\n to go unto King Arthur's court, and to cry Sir Launcelot mercy.\n CHAPTER XIX How Beaumains came to the lady, and when he came to the\n castle the gates were closed against him, and of the words that the\n lady said to him.\n CHAPTER XX. How Sir Beaumains rode after to rescue his dwarf, and came\n into the castle where he was.\n CHAPTER XXI. How Sir Gareth, otherwise called Beaumains, came to the\n presence of his lady, and how they took acquaintance, and of their\n love.\n CHAPTER XXII. How at night came an armed knight, and fought with Sir\n Gareth, and he, sore hurt in the thigh, smote off the knight's head.\n CHAPTER XXIII. How the said knight came again the next night and was\n beheaded again, and how at the feast of Pentecost all the knights that\n Sir Gareth had overcome came and yielded them to King Arthur.\n CHAPTER XXIV. How King Arthur pardoned them, and demanded of them\n where Sir Gareth was.\n CHAPTER XXV. How the Queen of Orkney came to this feast of Pentecost,\n and Sir Gawaine and his brethren came to ask her blessing.\n CHAPTER XXVI. How King Arthur sent for the Lady Lionesse, and how she\n let cry a tourney at her castle, whereas came many knights.\n CHAPTER XXVII. How King Arthur went to the tournament with his\n knights, and how the lady received him worshipfully, and how the\n knights encountered.\n CHAPTER XXVIII. How the knights bare them in the battle.\n CHAPTER XXIX. Yet of the said tournament.\n CHAPTER XXX. How Sir Gareth was espied by the heralds, and how he\n escaped out of the field.\n CHAPTER XXXI. How Sir Gareth came to a castle where he was well\n lodged, and he jousted with a knight and slew him.\n CHAPTER XXXII. How Sir Gareth fought with a knight that held within\n his castle thirty ladies, and how he slew him.\n CHAPTER XXXIII. How Sir Gareth and Sir Gawaine fought each against\n other, and how they knew each other by the damosel Linet.\n CHAPTER XXXIV. How Sir Gareth acknowledged that they loved each other\n to King Arthur, and of the appointment of their wedding.\n CHAPTER XXXV. Of the Great Royalty, and what officers were made at the\n feast of the wedding, and of the jousts at the feast.\n BOOK VIII.\n CHAPTER I. How Sir Tristram de Liones was born, and how his mother\n died at his birth, wherefore she named him Tristram.\n CHAPTER II. How the stepmother of Sir Tristram had ordained poison for\n to have poisoned Sir Tristram.\n CHAPTER III. How Sir Tristram was sent into France, and had one to\n govern him named Gouvernail, and how he learned to harp, hawk, and\n hunt.\n CHAPTER IV. How Sir Marhaus came out of Ireland for to ask truage of\n Cornwall, or else he would fight therefore.\n CHAPTER V. How Tristram enterprized the battle to fight for the truage\n of Cornwall, and how he was made knight.\n CHAPTER VI. How Sir Tristram arrived into the Island for to furnish\n the battle with Sir Marhaus.\n CHAPTER VII. How Sir Tristram fought against Sir Marhaus and achieved\n his battle, and how Sir Marhaus fled to his ship.\n CHAPTER VIII. How Sir Marhaus after that he was arrived in Ireland\n died of the stroke that Sir Tristram had given him, and how Tristram\n was hurt.\n CHAPTER IX. How Sir Tristram was put to the keeping of La Beale Isoud\n first for to be healed of his wound.\n CHAPTER X. How Sir Tristram won the degree at a tournament in Ireland,\n and there made Palamides to bear no more harness in a year.\n CHAPTER XI. How the queen espied that Sir Tristram had slain her\n brother Sir Marhaus by his sword, and in what jeopardy he was.\n CHAPTER XII. How Sir Tristram departed from the king and La Beale\n Isoud out of Ireland for to come into Cornwall.\n CHAPTER XIII. How Sir Tristram and King Mark hurted each other for the\n love of a knight's wife.\n CHAPTER XIV. How Sir Tristram lay with the lady, and how her husband\n fought with Sir Tristram.\n CHAPTER XV. How Sir Bleoberis demanded the fairest lady in King Mark's\n court, whom he took away, and how he was fought with.\n CHAPTER XVI. How Sir Tristram fought with two knights of the Round\n Table.\n CHAPTER XVII. How Sir Tristram fought with Sir Bleoberis for a lady,\n and how the lady was put to choice to whom she would go.\n CHAPTER XVIII. How the lady forsook Sir Tristram and abode with Sir\n Bleoberis, and how she desired to go to her husband.\n CHAPTER XIX. How King Mark sent Sir Tristram for La Beale Isoud toward\n Ireland, and how by fortune he arrived into England.\n CHAPTER XX. How King Anguish of Ireland was summoned to come to King\n Arthur's court for treason.\n CHAPTER XXI. How Sir Tristram rescued a child from a knight, and how\n Gouvernail told him of King Anguish.\n CHAPTER XXII. How Sir Tristram fought for Sir Anguish and overcame his\n adversary, and how his adversary would never yield him.\n CHAPTER XXIII. How Sir Blamore desired Tristram to slay him, and how\n Sir Tristram spared him, and how they took appointment.\n CHAPTER XXIV. How Sir Tristram demanded La Beale Isoud for King Mark,\n and how Sir Tristram and Isoud drank the love drink.\n CHAPTER XXV. How Sir Tristram and Isoud were in prison, and how he\n fought for her beauty, and smote off another lady's head.\n CHAPTER XXVI. How Sir Tristram fought with Sir Breunor, and at the\n last smote off his head.\n CHAPTER XXVII. How Sir Galahad fought with Sir Tristram, and how Sir\n Tristram yielded him and promised to fellowship with Launcelot.\n CHAPTER XXVIII. How Sir Launcelot met with Sir Carados bearing away\n Sir Gawaine, and of the rescue of Sir Gawaine.\n CHAPTER XXIX. Of the wedding of King Mark to La Beale Isoud, and of\n Bragwaine her maid, and of Palamides.\n CHAPTER XXX. How Palamides demanded Queen Isoud, and how Lambegus rode\n after to rescue her, and of the escape of Isoud.\n CHAPTER XXXI. How Sir Tristram rode after Palamides, and how he found\n him and fought with him, and by the means of Isoud the battle ceased.\n CHAPTER XXXII. How Sir Tristram brought Queen Isoud home, and of the\n debate of King Mark and Sir Tristram.\n CHAPTER XXXIII. How Sir Lamorak jousted with thirty knights, and Sir\n Tristram at the request of King Mark smote his horse down.\n CHAPTER XXXIV. How Sir Lamorak sent an horn to King Mark in despite of\n Sir Tristram, and how Sir Tristram was driven into a chapel.\n CHAPTER XXXV. How Sir Tristram was holpen by his men, and of Queen\n Isoud which was put in a lazar-cote, and how Tristram was hurt.\n CHAPTER XXXVI. How Sir Tristram served in war King Howel of Brittany,\n and slew his adversary in the field.\n CHAPTER XXXVII. How Sir Suppinabiles told Sir Tristram how he was\n defamed in the court of King Arthur, and of Sir Lamorak.\n CHAPTER XXXVIII. How Sir Tristram and his wife arrived in Wales, and\n how he met there with Sir Lamorak.\n CHAPTER XXXIX. How Sir Tristram fought with Sir Nabon, and overcame\n him, and made Sir Segwarides lord of the isle.\n CHAPTER XL\n CHAPTER XLI. How Sir Lamorak slew Sir Frol, and of the courteous\n fighting with Sir Belliance his brother.\n BOOK IX.\n CHAPTER I. How a young man came into the court of King Arthur, and how\n Sir Kay called him in scorn La Cote Male Taile.\n CHAPTER II. How a damosel came into the court and desired a knight to\n take on him an enquest, which La Cote Male Taile emprised.\n CHAPTER III. How La Cote Male Taile overthrew Sir Dagonet the king's\n fool, and of the rebuke that he had of the damosel.\n CHAPTER IV. How La Cote Male Taile fought against an hundred knights,\n and how he escaped by the mean of a lady.\n CHAPTER V. How Sir Launcelot came to the court and heard of La Cote\n Male Taile, and how he followed after him, and how La Cote Male Taile\n was prisoner.\n CHAPTER VI. How Sir Launcelot fought with six knights, and after with\n Sir Brian, and how he delivered the prisoners.\n CHAPTER VII. How Sir Launcelot met with the damosel named Male disant,\n and named her the Damosel Bienpensant.\n CHAPTER VIII. How La Cote Male Taile was taken prisoner, and after\n rescued by Sir Launcelot, and how Sir Launcelot overcame four\n brethren.\n CHAPTER IX. How Sir Launcelot made La Cote Male Taile lord of the\n Castle of Pendragon, and after was made knight of the Round Table.\n CHAPTER X. How La Beale Isoud sent letters to Sir Tristram by her maid\n Bragwaine, and of divers adventures of Sir Tristram.\n CHAPTER XI. How Sir Tristram met with Sir Lamorak de Galis, and how\n they fought, and after accorded never to fight together.\n CHAPTER XII. How Sir Palomides followed the Questing Beast, and smote\n down Sir Tristram and Sir Lamorak with one spear.\n CHAPTER XIII. How Sir Lamorak met with Sir Meliagaunce, and fought\n together for the beauty of Dame Guenever.\n CHAPTER XIV. How Sir Kay met with Sir Tristram, and after of the shame\n spoken of the knights of Cornwall, and how they jousted.\n CHAPTER XV. How King Arthur was brought into the Forest Perilous, and\n how Sir Tristram saved his life.\n CHAPTER XVI. How Sir Tristram came to La Beale Isoud, and how Kehydius\n began to love Beale Isoud, and of a letter that Tristram found.\n CHAPTER XVII. How Sir Tristram departed from Tintagil, and how he\n sorrowed and was so long in a forest till he was out of his mind.\n CHAPTER XVIII. How Sir Tristram soused Dagonet in a well, and how\n Palomides sent a damosel to seek Tristram, and how Palomides met with\n King Mark.\n CHAPTER XIX. How it was noised how Sir Tristram was dead, and how La\n Beale Isoud would have slain herself.\n CHAPTER XX. How King Mark found Sir Tristram naked, and made him to be\n borne home to Tintagil, and how he was there known by a brachet.\n CHAPTER XXI. How King Mark, by the advice of his council, banished Sir\n Tristram out of Cornwall the term of ten years.\n CHAPTER XXII. How a damosel sought help to help Sir Launcelot against\n thirty knights, and how Sir Tristram fought with them.\n CHAPTER XXIII. How Sir Tristram and Sir Dinadan came to a lodging\n where they must joust with two knights.\n CHAPTER XXIV. How Sir Tristram jousted with Sir Kay and Sir Sagramore\n le Desirous, and how Sir Gawaine turned Sir Tristram from Morgan le\n Fay.\n CHAPTER XXV. How Sir Tristram and Sir Gawaine rode to have foughten\n with the thirty knights, but they durst not come out.\n CHAPTER XXVI. How damosel Bragwaine found Tristram sleeping by a well,\n and how she delivered letters to him from La Beale Isoud.\n CHAPTER XXVII. How Sir Tristram had a fall with Sir Palomides, and how\n Launcelot overthrew two knights.\n CHAPTER XXVIII. How Sir Launcelot jousted with Palomides and overthrew\n him, and after he was assailed with twelve knights.\n CHAPTER XXIX. How Sir Tristram behaved him the first day of the\n tournament, and there he had the prize.\n CHAPTER XXX. How Sir Tristram returned against King Arthur's party\n because he saw Sir Palomides on that party.\n CHAPTER XXXI. How Sir Tristram found Palomides by a well, and brought\n him with him to his lodging.\n CHAPTER XXXII. How Sir Tristram smote down Sir Palomides, and how he\n jousted with King Arthur, and other feats.\n CHAPTER XXXIII. How Sir Launcelot hurt Sir Tristram, and how after Sir\n Tristram smote down Sir Palomides.\n CHAPTER XXXIV. How the prize of the third day was given to Sir\n Launcelot, and Sir Launcelot gave it to Sir Tristram.\n CHAPTER XXXV. How Palomides came to the castle where Sir Tristram was,\n and of the quest that Sir Launcelot and ten knights made for Sir\n Tristram.\n CHAPTER XXXVI. How Sir Tristram, Sir Palomides, and Sir Dinadan were\n taken and put in prison.\n CHAPTER XXXVII. How King Mark was sorry for the good renown of Sir\n Tristram. Some of King Arthur's knights jousted with knights of\n Cornwall.\n CHAPTER XXXVIII. Of the treason of King Mark, and how Sir Gaheris\n smote him down and Andred his cousin.\n CHAPTER XXXIX. How after that Sir Tristram, Sir Palomides, and Sir\n Dinadan had been long in prison they were delivered.\n CHAPTER XL. How Sir Dinadan rescued a lady from Sir Breuse Saunce\n Pit\u00e9, and how Sir Tristram received a shield of Morgan le Fay.\n CHAPTER XLI. How Sir Tristram took with him the shield, and also how\n he slew the paramour of Morgan le Fay.\n CHAPTER XLII. How Morgan le Fay buried her paramour, and how Sir\n Tristram praised Sir Launcelot and his kin.\n CHAPTER XLIII. How Sir Tristram at a tournament bare the shield that\n Morgan le Fay delivered to him.\nGLOSSARY\nBIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE\nThe Morte D\u2019Arthur was finished, as the epilogue tells us, in the ninth\nyear of Edward IV., i.e. between March 4, 1469 and the same date in\n1470. It is thus, fitly enough, the last important English book written\nbefore the introduction of printing into this country, and since no\nmanuscript of it has come down to us it is also the first English\nclassic for our knowledge of which we are entirely dependent on a\nprinted text. Caxton\u2019s story of how the book was brought to him and he\nwas induced to print it may be read farther on in his own preface. From\nthis we learn also that he was not only the printer of the book, but to\nsome extent its editor also, dividing Malory\u2019s work into twenty-one\nbooks, splitting up the books into chapters, by no means skilfully, and\nsupplying the \u201cRubrish\u201d or chapter-headings. It may be added that\nCaxton\u2019s preface contains, moreover, a brief criticism which, on the\npoints on which it touches, is still the soundest and most sympathetic\nthat has been written.\nCaxton finished his edition the last day of July 1485, some fifteen or\nsixteen years after Malory wrote his epilogue. It is clear that the\nauthor was then dead, or the printer would not have acted as a clumsy\neditor to the book, and recent discoveries (if bibliography may, for\nthe moment, enlarge its bounds to mention such matters) have revealed\nwith tolerable certainty when Malory died and who he was. In letters to\nThe Athenaeum in July 1896 Mr. T. Williams pointed out that the name of\na Sir Thomas Malorie occurred among those of a number of other\nLancastrians excluded from a general pardon granted by Edward IV. in\n1468, and that a William Mallerye was mentioned in the same year as\ntaking part in a Lancastrian rising. In September 1897, again, in\nanother letter to the same paper, Mr. A. T. Martin reported the finding\nof the will of a Thomas Malory of Papworth, a hundred partly in\nCambridgeshire, partly in Hunts. This will was made on September 16,\n1469, and as it was proved the 27th of the next month the testator must\nhave been in immediate expectation of death. It contains the most\ncareful provision for the education and starting in life of a family of\nthree daughters and seven sons, of whom the youngest seems to have been\nstill an infant. We cannot say with certainty that this Thomas Malory,\nwhose last thoughts were so busy for his children, was our author, or\nthat the Lancastrian knight discovered by Mr. Williams was identical\nwith either or both, but such evidence as the Morte D\u2019Arthur offers\nfavours such a belief. There is not only the epilogue with its\npetition, \u201cpray for me while I am alive that God send me good\ndeliverance and when I am dead pray you all for my soul,\u201d but this very\nrequest is foreshadowed at the end of chap. 37 of Book ix. in the\ntouching passage, surely inspired by personal experience, as to the\nsickness \u201cthat is the greatest pain a prisoner may have\u201d; and the\nreflections on English fickleness in the first chapter of Book xxi.,\nthough the Wars of the Roses might have inspired them in any one, come\nmost naturally from an author who was a Lancastrian knight.\nIf the Morte D\u2019Arthur was really written in prison and by a prisoner\ndistressed by ill-health as well as by lack of liberty, surely no task\nwas ever better devised to while away weary hours. Leaving abundant\nscope for originality in selection, modification, and arrangement, as a\ncompilation and translation it had in it that mechanical element which\nadds the touch of restfulness to literary work. No original, it is\nsaid, has yet been found for Book vii., and it is possible that none\nwill ever be forthcoming for chap. 20 of Book xviii., which describes\nthe arrival of the body of the Fair Maiden of Astolat at Arthur\u2019s\ncourt, or vii for chap. 25 of the same book, with its discourse on true\nlove; but the great bulk of the work has been traced chapter by chapter\nto the \u201cMerlin\u201d of Robert de Borron and his successors (Bks. i.-iv.),\nthe English metrical romance La Morte Arthur of the Thornton manuscript\n(Bk. v.), the French romances of Tristan (Bks. viii.-x.) and of\nLauncelot (Bks. vi., xi.-xix.), and lastly to the English prose Morte\nArthur of Harley MS. 2252 (Bks. xviii., xx., xxi.). As to Malory\u2019s\nchoice of his authorities critics have not failed to point out that now\nand again he gives a worse version where a better has come down to us,\nand if he had been able to order a complete set of Arthurian\nmanuscripts from his bookseller, no doubt he would have done even\nbetter than he did! But of the skill, approaching to original genius,\nwith which he used the books from which he worked there is little\ndispute.\nMalory died leaving his work obviously unrevised, and in this condition\nit was brought to Caxton, who prepared it for the press with his usual\nenthusiasm in the cause of good literature, and also, it must be added,\nwith his usual carelessness. New chapters are sometimes made to begin\nin the middle of a sentence, and in addition to simple misprints there\nare numerous passages in which it is impossible to believe that we have\nthe text as Malory intended it to stand. After Caxton\u2019s edition\nMalory\u2019s manuscript must have disappeared, and subsequent editions are\ndifferentiated only by the degree of closeness with which they follow\nthe first. Editions appeared printed by Wynkyn de Worde in 1498 and\n1529, by William Copland in 1559, by Thomas East about 1585, and by\nThomas Stansby in 1634, each printer apparently taking the text of his\nimmediate predecessor and reproducing it with modifications. Stansby\u2019s\nedition served for reprints in 1816 and 1856 (the latter edited by\nThomas Wright); but in 1817 an edition supervised by Robert Southey\nwent back to Caxton\u2019s text, though to a copy (only two are extant, and\nonly one perfect!) in which eleven leaves were supplied from Wynkyn de\nWorde\u2019s reprint. In 1868 Sir Edward Strachey produced for the present\npublishers a reprint of Southey\u2019s text in modern spelling, with the\nsubstitution of current words for those now obsolete, and the softening\nof a handful of passages likely, he thought, to prevent the book being\nplaced in the hands of boys. In 1889 a boon was conferred on scholars\nby the publication of Dr. H. Oskar Sommer\u2019s page-for-page reprint of\nCaxton\u2019s text, with an elaborate discussion of Malory\u2019s sources. Dr.\nSommer\u2019s edition was used by Sir E. Strachey to revise his Globe text,\nand in 1897 Mr. Israel Gollancz produced for the \u201cTemple Classics\u201d a\nvery pretty edition in which Sir Edward Strachey\u2019s principles of\nmodernisation in spelling and punctuation were adopted, but with the\nrestoration of obsolete words and omitted phrases. As to the present\nedition, Sir Edward Strachey altered with so sparing a hand that on\nmany pages differences between his version and that here printed will\nbe looked for in vain; but the most anxious care has been taken to\nproduce a text modernised as to its spelling, but in other respects in\naccurate accordance with Caxton\u2019s text, as represented by Dr Sommer\u2019s\nreprint. Obvious misprints have been silently corrected, but in a few\ncases notes show where emendations have been introduced from Wynkyn de\nWorde\u2014not that Wynkyn had any more right to emend Caxton than we, but\nbecause even a printer\u2019s conjecture gains a little sanctity after four\ncenturies. The restoration of obsolete words has necessitated a much\nfuller glossary, and the index of names has therefore been separated\nfrom it and enlarged. In its present form the index is the work of Mr.\nHenry Littlehales.\nA. W. POLLARD.\nPREFACE OF WILLIAM CAXTON\nAfter that I had accomplished and finished divers histories, as well of\ncontemplation as of other historial and worldly acts of great\nconquerors and princes, and also certain books of ensamples and\ndoctrine, many noble and divers gentlemen of this realm of England came\nand demanded me many and oft times, wherefore that I have not do made\nand imprint the noble history of the Saint Greal, and of the most\nrenowned Christian king, first and chief of the three best Christian,\nand worthy, King Arthur, which ought most to be remembered among us\nEnglishmen to-fore all other Christian kings; for it is notoyrly known\nthrough the universal world, that there be nine worthy and the best\nthat ever were, that is to wit, three Paynims, three Jews, and three\nChristian men. As for the Paynims, they were to-fore the Incarnation of\nChrist, which were named, the first Hector of Troy, of whom the history\nis comen both in ballad and in prose, the second Alexander the Great,\nand the third Julius Caesar, Emperor of Rome, of whom the histories be\nwell known and had. And as for the three Jews, which also were to-fore\nthe incarnation of our Lord, of whom the first was duke Joshua which\nbrought the children of Israel into the land of behest, the second\nDavid king of Jerusalem, and the third Judas Machabeus, of these three\nthe Bible rehearseth all their noble histories and acts. And since the\nsaid Incarnation have been three noble Christian men, stalled and\nadmitted through the universal world into the number of the nine best\nand worthy. Of whom was first the noble Arthur, whose noble acts I\npurpose to write in this present book here following. The second was\nCharlemain, or Charles the Great, of whom the history is had in many\nplaces, both in French and in English. And the third and last was\nGodfrey of Boloine, of whose acts and life I made a book unto the\nexcellent prince and king of noble memory, King Edward the Fourth.\nThe said noble gentlemen instantly required me to imprint the history\nof the said noble king and conqueror King Arthur, and of his knights,\nwith the history of the Saint Greal, and of the death and ending of the\nsaid Arthur; affirming that I ought rather to imprint his acts and\nnoble feats, than of Godfrey of Boloine, or any of the other eight,\nconsidering that he was a man born within this realm, and king and\nemperor of the same: and that there be in French divers and many noble\nvolumes of his acts, and also of his knights. To whom I answered that\ndivers men hold opinion that there was no such Arthur, and that all\nsuch books as been made of him be feigned and fables, because that some\nchronicles make of him no mention, nor remember him nothing, nor of his\nknights. Whereto they answered, and one in special said, that in him\nthat should say or think that there was never such a king called Arthur\nmight well be aretted great folly and blindness. For he said that there\nwere many evidences of the contrary. First ye may see his sepulchre in\nthe monastery of Glastonbury. And also in Policronicon, in the fifth\nbook the sixth chapter, and in the seventh book the twenty-third\nchapter, where his body was buried, and after found, and translated\ninto the said monastery. Ye shall see also in the history of Bochas, in\nhis book De Casu Principum, part of his noble acts, and also of his\nfall. Also Galfridus in his British book recounteth his life: and in\ndivers places of England many remembrances be yet of him, and shall\nremain perpetually, and also of his knights. First in the abbey of\nWestminster, at St. Edward\u2019s shrine, remaineth the print of his seal in\nred wax closed in beryl, in which is written, Patricius Arthurus\nBritannie, Gallie, Germanie, Dacie, Imperator. Item in the castle of\nDover ye may see Gawaine\u2019s skull, and Cradok\u2019s mantle: at Winchester\nthe Round Table: in other places Launcelot\u2019s sword and many other\nthings. Then all these things considered, there can no man reasonably\ngainsay but there was a king of this land named Arthur. For in all\nplaces, Christian and heathen, he is reputed and taken for one of the\nnine worthy, and the first of the three Christian men. And also, he is\nmore spoken of beyond the sea, more books made of his noble acts, than\nthere be in England, as well in Dutch, Italian, Spanish, and Greekish,\nas in French. And yet of record remain in witness of him in Wales, in\nthe town of Camelot, the great stones and the marvellous works of iron\nlying under the ground, and royal vaults, which divers now living have\nseen. Wherefore it is a marvel why he is no more renowned in his own\ncountry, save only it accordeth to the Word of God, which saith that no\nman is accepted for a prophet in his own country.\nThen all these things aforesaid alleged, I could not well deny but that\nthere was such a noble king named Arthur, and reputed one of the nine\nworthy, and first and chief of the Christian men. And many noble\nvolumes be made of him and of his noble knights in French, which I have\nseen and read beyond the sea, which be not had in our maternal tongue.\nBut in Welsh be many and also in French, and some in English but\nnowhere nigh all. Wherefore, such as have late been drawn out briefly\ninto English I have after the simple conning that God hath sent to me,\nunder the favour and correction of all noble lords and gentlemen,\nenprised to imprint a book of the noble histories of the said King\nArthur, and of certain of his knights, after a copy unto me delivered,\nwhich copy Sir Thomas Malorye did take out of certain books of French,\nand reduced it into English. And I, according to my copy, have done set\nit in imprint, to the intent that noble men may see and learn the noble\nacts of chivalry, the gentle and virtuous deeds that some knights used\nin those days, by which they came to honour, and how they that were\nvicious were punished and oft put to shame and rebuke; humbly\nbeseeching all noble lords and ladies, with all other estates of what\nestate or degree they been of, that shall see and read in this said\nbook and work, that they take the good and honest acts in their\nremembrance, and to follow the same. Wherein they shall find many\njoyous and pleasant histories, and noble and renowned acts of humanity,\ngentleness, and chivalry. For herein may be seen noble chivalry,\ncourtesy, humanity, friendliness, hardiness, love, friendship,\ncowardice, murder, hate, virtue, and sin. Do after the good and leave\nthe evil, and it shall bring you to good fame and renown. And for to\npass the time this book shall be pleasant to read in, but for to give\nfaith and belief that all is true that is contained herein, ye be at\nyour liberty: but all is written for our doctrine, and for to beware\nthat we fall not to vice nor sin, but to exercise and follow virtue, by\nwhich we may come and attain to good fame and renown in this life, and\nafter this short and transitory life to come unto everlasting bliss in\nheaven; the which He grant us that reigneth in heaven, the blessed\nTrinity. Amen.\nThen to proceed forth in this said book, which I direct unto all noble\nprinces, lords and ladies, gentlemen or gentlewomen, that desire to\nread or hear read of the noble and joyous history of the great\nconqueror and excellent king, King Arthur, sometime king of this noble\nrealm, then called Britain; I, William Caxton, simple person, present\nthis book following, which I have enprised to imprint: and treateth of\nthe noble acts, feats of arms of chivalry, prowess, hardiness,\nhumanity, love, courtesy, and very gentleness, with many wonderful\nhistories and adventures. And for to understand briefly the content of\nthis volume, I have divided it into XXI Books, and every book\nchaptered, as hereafter shall by God\u2019s grace follow. The First Book\nshall treat how Uther Pendragon gat the noble conqueror King Arthur,\nand containeth xxviii chapters. The Second Book treateth of Balin the\nnoble knight, and containeth xix chapters. The Third Book treateth of\nthe marriage of King Arthur to Queen Guenever, with other matters, and\ncontaineth xv chapters. The Fourth Book, how Merlin was assotted, and\nof war made to King Arthur, and containeth xxix chapters. The Fifth\nBook treateth of the conquest of Lucius the emperor, and containeth xii\nchapters. The Sixth Book treateth of Sir Launcelot and Sir Lionel, and\nmarvellous adventures, and containeth xviii chapters. The Seventh Book\ntreateth of a noble knight called Sir Gareth, and named by Sir Kay\nBeaumains, and containeth xxxvi chapters. The Eighth Book treateth of\nthe birth of Sir Tristram the noble knight, and of his acts, and\ncontaineth xli chapters. The Ninth Book treateth of a knight named by\nSir Kay Le Cote Male Taille, and also of Sir Tristram, and containeth\nxliv chapters. The Tenth Book treateth of Sir Tristram, and other\nmarvellous adventures, and containeth lxxxviii chapters. The Eleventh\nBook treateth of Sir Launcelot and Sir Galahad, and containeth xiv\nchapters. The Twelfth Book treateth of Sir Launcelot and his madness,\nand containeth xiv chapters. The Thirteenth Book treateth how Galahad\ncame first to king Arthur\u2019s court, and the quest how the Sangreal was\nbegun, and containeth xx chapters. The Fourteenth Book treateth of the\nquest of the Sangreal, and containeth x chapters. The Fifteenth Book\ntreateth of Sir Launcelot, and containeth vi chapters. The Sixteenth\nBook treateth of Sir Bors and Sir Lionel his brother, and containeth\nxvii chapters. The Seventeenth Book treateth of the Sangreal, and\ncontaineth xxiii chapters. The Eighteenth Book treateth of Sir\nLauncelot and the queen, and containeth xxv chapters. The Nineteenth\nBook treateth of Queen Guenever and Launcelot, and containeth xiii\nchapters. The Twentieth Book treateth of the piteous death of Arthur,\nand containeth xxii chapters. The Twenty-first Book treateth of his\nlast departing, and how Sir Launcelot came to revenge his death, and\ncontaineth xiii chapters. The sum is twenty-one books, which contain\nthe sum of five hundred and seven chapters, as more plainly shall\nfollow hereafter.\nBOOK I.\nCHAPTER I. First, How Uther Pendragon sent for the duke of Cornwall and\nIgraine his wife, and of their departing suddenly again.\nIt befell in the days of Uther Pendragon, when he was king of all\nEngland, and so reigned, that there was a mighty duke in Cornwall that\nheld war against him long time. And the duke was called the Duke of\nTintagil. And so by means King Uther sent for this duke, charging him\nto bring his wife with him, for she was called a fair lady, and a\npassing wise, and her name was called Igraine.\nSo when the duke and his wife were come unto the king, by the means of\ngreat lords they were accorded both. The king liked and loved this lady\nwell, and he made them great cheer out of measure, and desired to have\nlain by her. But she was a passing good woman, and would not assent\nunto the king. And then she told the duke her husband, and said, I\nsuppose that we were sent for that I should be dishonoured; wherefore,\nhusband, I counsel you, that we depart from hence suddenly, that we may\nride all night unto our own castle. And in like wise as she said so\nthey departed, that neither the king nor none of his council were ware\nof their departing. All so soon as King Uther knew of their departing\nso suddenly, he was wonderly wroth. Then he called to him his privy\ncouncil, and told them of the sudden departing of the duke and his\nwife.\nThen they advised the king to send for the duke and his wife by a great\ncharge; and if he will not come at your summons, then may ye do your\nbest, then have ye cause to make mighty war upon him. So that was done,\nand the messengers had their answers; and that was this shortly, that\nneither he nor his wife would not come at him.\nThen was the king wonderly wroth. And then the king sent him plain word\nagain, and bade him be ready and stuff him and garnish him, for within\nforty days he would fetch him out of the biggest castle that he hath.\nWhen the duke had this warning, anon he went and furnished and\ngarnished two strong castles of his, of the which the one hight\nTintagil, and the other castle hight Terrabil. So his wife Dame Igraine\nhe put in the castle of Tintagil, and himself he put in the castle of\nTerrabil, the which had many issues and posterns out. Then in all haste\ncame Uther with a great host, and laid a siege about the castle of\nTerrabil. And there he pight many pavilions, and there was great war\nmade on both parties, and much people slain. Then for pure anger and\nfor great love of fair Igraine the king Uther fell sick. So came to the\nking Uther Sir Ulfius, a noble knight, and asked the king why he was\nsick. I shall tell thee, said the king, I am sick for anger and for\nlove of fair Igraine, that I may not be whole. Well, my lord, said Sir\nUlfius, I shall seek Merlin, and he shall do you remedy, that your\nheart shall be pleased. So Ulfius departed, and by adventure he met\nMerlin in a beggar\u2019s array, and there Merlin asked Ulfius whom he\nsought. And he said he had little ado to tell him. Well, said Merlin, I\nknow whom thou seekest, for thou seekest Merlin; therefore seek no\nfarther, for I am he; and if King Uther will well reward me, and be\nsworn unto me to fulfil my desire, that shall be his honour and profit\nmore than mine; for I shall cause him to have all his desire. All this\nwill I undertake, said Ulfius, that there shall be nothing reasonable\nbut thou shalt have thy desire. Well, said Merlin, he shall have his\nintent and desire. And therefore, said Merlin, ride on your way, for I\nwill not be long behind.\nCHAPTER II. How Uther Pendragon made war on the duke of Cornwall, and\nhow by the mean of Merlin he lay by the duchess and gat Arthur.\nThen Ulfius was glad, and rode on more than a pace till that he came to\nKing Uther Pendragon, and told him he had met with Merlin. Where is he?\nsaid the king. Sir, said Ulfius, he will not dwell long. Therewithal\nUlfius was ware where Merlin stood at the porch of the pavilion\u2019s door.\nAnd then Merlin was bound to come to the king. When King Uther saw him,\nhe said he was welcome. Sir, said Merlin, I know all your heart every\ndeal; so ye will be sworn unto me as ye be a true king anointed, to\nfulfil my desire, ye shall have your desire. Then the king was sworn\nupon the Four Evangelists. Sir, said Merlin, this is my desire: the\nfirst night that ye shall lie by Igraine ye shall get a child on her,\nand when that is born, that it shall be delivered to me for to nourish\nthere as I will have it; for it shall be your worship, and the child\u2019s\navail, as mickle as the child is worth. I will well, said the king, as\nthou wilt have it. Now make you ready, said Merlin, this night ye shall\nlie with Igraine in the castle of Tintagil; and ye shall be like the\nduke her husband, Ulfius shall be like Sir Brastias, a knight of the\nduke\u2019s, and I will be like a knight that hight Sir Jordanus, a knight\nof the duke\u2019s. But wait ye make not many questions with her nor her\nmen, but say ye are diseased, and so hie you to bed, and rise not on\nthe morn till I come to you, for the castle of Tintagil is but ten\nmiles hence; so this was done as they devised. But the duke of Tintagil\nespied how the king rode from the siege of Terrabil, and therefore that\nnight he issued out of the castle at a postern for to have distressed\nthe king\u2019s host. And so, through his own issue, the duke himself was\nslain or ever the king came at the castle of Tintagil.\nSo after the death of the duke, King Uther lay with Igraine more than\nthree hours after his death, and begat on her that night Arthur, and on\nday came Merlin to the king, and bade him make him ready, and so he\nkissed the lady Igraine and departed in all haste. But when the lady\nheard tell of the duke her husband, and by all record he was dead or\never King Uther came to her, then she marvelled who that might be that\nlay with her in likeness of her lord; so she mourned privily and held\nher peace. Then all the barons by one assent prayed the king of accord\nbetwixt the lady Igraine and him; the king gave them leave, for fain\nwould he have been accorded with her. So the king put all the trust in\nUlfius to entreat between them, so by the entreaty at the last the king\nand she met together. Now will we do well, said Ulfius, our king is a\nlusty knight and wifeless, and my lady Igraine is a passing fair lady;\nit were great joy unto us all, an it might please the king to make her\nhis queen. Unto that they all well accorded and moved it to the king.\nAnd anon, like a lusty knight, he assented thereto with good will, and\nso in all haste they were married in a morning with great mirth and\njoy.\nAnd King Lot of Lothian and of Orkney then wedded Margawse that was\nGawaine\u2019s mother, and King Nentres of the land of Garlot wedded Elaine.\nAll this was done at the request of King Uther. And the third sister\nMorgan le Fay was put to school in a nunnery, and there she learned so\nmuch that she was a great clerk of necromancy. And after she was wedded\nto King Uriens of the land of Gore, that was Sir Ewain\u2019s le\nBlanchemain\u2019s father.\nCHAPTER III. Of the birth of King Arthur and of his nurture.\nThen Queen Igraine waxed daily greater and greater, so it befell after\nwithin half a year, as King Uther lay by his queen, he asked her, by\nthe faith she owed to him, whose was the body; then she sore abashed to\ngive answer. Dismay you not, said the king, but tell me the truth, and\nI shall love you the better, by the faith of my body. Sir, said she, I\nshall tell you the truth. The same night that my lord was dead, the\nhour of his death, as his knights record, there came into my castle of\nTintagil a man like my lord in speech and in countenance, and two\nknights with him in likeness of his two knights Brastias and Jordanus,\nand so I went unto bed with him as I ought to do with my lord, and the\nsame night, as I shall answer unto God, this child was begotten upon\nme. That is truth, said the king, as ye say; for it was I myself that\ncame in the likeness, and therefore dismay you not, for I am father of\nthe child; and there he told her all the cause, how it was by Merlin\u2019s\ncounsel. Then the queen made great joy when she knew who was the father\nof her child.\nSoon came Merlin unto the king, and said, Sir, ye must purvey you for\nthe nourishing of your child. As thou wilt, said the king, be it. Well,\nsaid Merlin, I know a lord of yours in this land, that is a passing\ntrue man and a faithful, and he shall have the nourishing of your\nchild, and his name is Sir Ector, and he is a lord of fair livelihood\nin many parts in England and Wales; and this lord, Sir Ector, let him\nbe sent for, for to come and speak with you, and desire him yourself,\nas he loveth you, that he will put his own child to nourishing to\nanother woman, and that his wife nourish yours. And when the child is\nborn let it be delivered to me at yonder privy postern unchristened. So\nlike as Merlin devised it was done. And when Sir Ector was come he made\nfiaunce to the king for to nourish the child like as the king desired;\nand there the king granted Sir Ector great rewards. Then when the lady\nwas delivered, the king commanded two knights and two ladies to take\nthe child, bound in a cloth of gold, and that ye deliver him to what\npoor man ye meet at the postern gate of the castle. So the child was\ndelivered unto Merlin, and so he bare it forth unto Sir Ector, and made\nan holy man to christen him, and named him Arthur; and so Sir Ector\u2019s\nwife nourished him with her own pap.\nCHAPTER IV. Of the death of King Uther Pendragon.\nThen within two years King Uther fell sick of a great malady. And in\nthe meanwhile his enemies usurped upon him, and did a great battle upon\nhis men, and slew many of his people. Sir, said Merlin, ye may not lie\nso as ye do, for ye must to the field though ye ride on an\nhorse-litter: for ye shall never have the better of your enemies but if\nyour person be there, and then shall ye have the victory. So it was\ndone as Merlin had devised, and they carried the king forth in an\nhorse-litter with a great host towards his enemies. And at St. Albans\nthere met with the king a great host of the North. And that day Sir\nUlfius and Sir Brastias did great deeds of arms, and King Uther\u2019s men\novercame the Northern battle and slew many people, and put the remnant\nto flight. And then the king returned unto London, and made great joy\nof his victory. And then he fell passing sore sick, so that three days\nand three nights he was speechless: wherefore all the barons made great\nsorrow, and asked Merlin what counsel were best. There is none other\nremedy, said Merlin, but God will have his will. But look ye all barons\nbe before King Uther to-morn, and God and I shall make him to speak. So\non the morn all the barons with Merlin came to-fore the king; then\nMerlin said aloud unto King Uther, Sir, shall your son Arthur be king\nafter your days, of this realm with all the appurtenance? Then Uther\nPendragon turned him, and said in hearing of them all, I give him God\u2019s\nblessing and mine, and bid him pray for my soul, and righteously and\nworshipfully that he claim the crown, upon forfeiture of my blessing;\nand therewith he yielded up the ghost, and then was he interred as\nlonged to a king. Wherefore the queen, fair Igraine, made great sorrow,\nand all the barons.\nCHAPTER V. How Arthur was chosen king, and of wonders and marvels of a\nsword taken out of a stone by the said Arthur.\nThen stood the realm in great jeopardy long while, for every lord that\nwas mighty of men made him strong, and many weened to have been king.\nThen Merlin went to the Archbishop of Canterbury, and counselled him\nfor to send for all the lords of the realm, and all the gentlemen of\narms, that they should to London come by Christmas, upon pain of\ncursing; and for this cause, that Jesus, that was born on that night,\nthat he would of his great mercy show some miracle, as he was come to\nbe king of mankind, for to show some miracle who should be rightwise\nking of this realm. So the Archbishop, by the advice of Merlin, sent\nfor all the lords and gentlemen of arms that they should come by\nChristmas even unto London. And many of them made them clean of their\nlife, that their prayer might be the more acceptable unto God. So in\nthe greatest church of London, whether it were Paul\u2019s or not the French\nbook maketh no mention, all the estates were long or day in the church\nfor to pray. And when matins and the first mass was done, there was\nseen in the churchyard, against the high altar, a great stone four\nsquare, like unto a marble stone; and in midst thereof was like an\nanvil of steel a foot on high, and therein stuck a fair sword naked by\nthe point, and letters there were written in gold about the sword that\nsaid thus:\u2014Whoso pulleth out this sword of this stone and anvil, is\nrightwise king born of all England. Then the people marvelled, and told\nit to the Archbishop.\nI command, said the Archbishop, that ye keep you within your church and\npray unto God still, that no man touch the sword till the high mass be\nall done. So when all masses were done all the lords went to behold the\nstone and the sword. And when they saw the scripture some assayed, such\nas would have been king. But none might stir the sword nor move it. He\nis not here, said the Archbishop, that shall achieve the sword, but\ndoubt not God will make him known. But this is my counsel, said the\nArchbishop, that we let purvey ten knights, men of good fame, and they\nto keep this sword. So it was ordained, and then there was made a cry,\nthat every man should assay that would, for to win the sword. And upon\nNew Year\u2019s Day the barons let make a jousts and a tournament, that all\nknights that would joust or tourney there might play, and all this was\nordained for to keep the lords together and the commons, for the\nArchbishop trusted that God would make him known that should win the\nsword.\nSo upon New Year\u2019s Day, when the service was done, the barons rode unto\nthe field, some to joust and some to tourney, and so it happened that\nSir Ector, that had great livelihood about London, rode unto the\njousts, and with him rode Sir Kay his son, and young Arthur that was\nhis nourished brother; and Sir Kay was made knight at All Hallowmass\nafore. So as they rode to the jousts-ward, Sir Kay lost his sword, for\nhe had left it at his father\u2019s lodging, and so he prayed young Arthur\nfor to ride for his sword. I will well, said Arthur, and rode fast\nafter the sword, and when he came home, the lady and all were out to\nsee the jousting. Then was Arthur wroth, and said to himself, I will\nride to the churchyard, and take the sword with me that sticketh in the\nstone, for my brother Sir Kay shall not be without a sword this day. So\nwhen he came to the churchyard, Sir Arthur alighted and tied his horse\nto the stile, and so he went to the tent, and found no knights there,\nfor they were at the jousting. And so he handled the sword by the\nhandles, and lightly and fiercely pulled it out of the stone, and took\nhis horse and rode his way until he came to his brother Sir Kay, and\ndelivered him the sword. And as soon as Sir Kay saw the sword, he wist\nwell it was the sword of the stone, and so he rode to his father Sir\nEctor, and said: Sir, lo here is the sword of the stone, wherefore I\nmust be king of this land. When Sir Ector beheld the sword, he returned\nagain and came to the church, and there they alighted all three, and\nwent into the church. And anon he made Sir Kay swear upon a book how he\ncame to that sword. Sir, said Sir Kay, by my brother Arthur, for he\nbrought it to me. How gat ye this sword? said Sir Ector to Arthur. Sir,\nI will tell you. When I came home for my brother\u2019s sword, I found\nnobody at home to deliver me his sword; and so I thought my brother Sir\nKay should not be swordless, and so I came hither eagerly and pulled it\nout of the stone without any pain. Found ye any knights about this\nsword? said Sir Ector. Nay, said Arthur. Now, said Sir Ector to Arthur,\nI understand ye must be king of this land. Wherefore I, said Arthur,\nand for what cause? Sir, said Ector, for God will have it so; for there\nshould never man have drawn out this sword, but he that shall be\nrightwise king of this land. Now let me see whether ye can put the\nsword there as it was, and pull it out again. That is no mastery, said\nArthur, and so he put it in the stone; wherewithal Sir Ector assayed to\npull out the sword and failed.\nCHAPTER VI. How King Arthur pulled out the sword divers times.\nNow assay, said Sir Ector unto Sir Kay. And anon he pulled at the sword\nwith all his might; but it would not be. Now shall ye assay, said Sir\nEctor to Arthur. I will well, said Arthur, and pulled it out easily.\nAnd therewithal Sir Ector knelt down to the earth, and Sir Kay. Alas,\nsaid Arthur, my own dear father and brother, why kneel ye to me? Nay,\nnay, my lord Arthur, it is not so; I was never your father nor of your\nblood, but I wot well ye are of an higher blood than I weened ye were.\nAnd then Sir Ector told him all, how he was betaken him for to nourish\nhim, and by whose commandment, and by Merlin\u2019s deliverance.\nThen Arthur made great dole when he understood that Sir Ector was not\nhis father. Sir, said Ector unto Arthur, will ye be my good and\ngracious lord when ye are king? Else were I to blame, said Arthur, for\nye are the man in the world that I am most beholden to, and my good\nlady and mother your wife, that as well as her own hath fostered me and\nkept. And if ever it be God\u2019s will that I be king as ye say, ye shall\ndesire of me what I may do, and I shall not fail you; God forbid I\nshould fail you Sir, said Sir Ector, I will ask no more of you, but\nthat ye will make my son, your foster brother, Sir Kay, seneschal of\nall your lands. That shall be done, said Arthur, and more, by the faith\nof my body, that never man shall have that office but he, while he and\nI live. Therewithal they went unto the Archbishop, and told him how the\nsword was achieved, and by whom; and on Twelfth-day all the barons came\nthither, and to assay to take the sword, who that would assay. But\nthere afore them all, there might none take it out but Arthur;\nwherefore there were many lords wroth, and said it was great shame unto\nthem all and the realm, to be overgoverned with a boy of no high blood\nborn. And so they fell out at that time that it was put off till\nCandlemas and then all the barons should meet there again; but always\nthe ten knights were ordained to watch the sword day and night, and so\nthey set a pavilion over the stone and the sword, and five always\nwatched. So at Candlemas many more great lords came thither for to have\nwon the sword, but there might none prevail. And right as Arthur did at\nChristmas, he did at Candlemas, and pulled out the sword easily,\nwhereof the barons were sore aggrieved and put it off in delay till the\nhigh feast of Easter. And as Arthur sped before, so did he at Easter;\nyet there were some of the great lords had indignation that Arthur\nshould be king, and put it off in a delay till the feast of Pentecost.\nThen the Archbishop of Canterbury by Merlin\u2019s providence let purvey\nthen of the best knights that they might get, and such knights as Uther\nPendragon loved best and most trusted in his days. And such knights\nwere put about Arthur as Sir Baudwin of Britain, Sir Kay, Sir Ulfius,\nSir Brastias. All these, with many other, were always about Arthur, day\nand night, till the feast of Pentecost.\nCHAPTER VII. How King Arthur was crowned, and how he made officers.\nAnd at the feast of Pentecost all manner of men assayed to pull at the\nsword that would assay; but none might prevail but Arthur, and pulled\nit out afore all the lords and commons that were there, wherefore all\nthe commons cried at once, We will have Arthur unto our king, we will\nput him no more in delay, for we all see that it is God\u2019s will that he\nshall be our king, and who that holdeth against it, we will slay him.\nAnd therewithal they kneeled at once, both rich and poor, and cried\nArthur mercy because they had delayed him so long, and Arthur forgave\nthem, and took the sword between both his hands, and offered it upon\nthe altar where the Archbishop was, and so was he made knight of the\nbest man that was there. And so anon was the coronation made. And there\nwas he sworn unto his lords and the commons for to be a true king, to\nstand with true justice from thenceforth the days of this life. Also\nthen he made all lords that held of the crown to come in, and to do\nservice as they ought to do. And many complaints were made unto Sir\nArthur of great wrongs that were done since the death of King Uther, of\nmany lands that were bereaved lords, knights, ladies, and gentlemen.\nWherefore King Arthur made the lands to be given again unto them that\nowned them.\nWhen this was done, that the king had stablished all the countries\nabout London, then he let make Sir Kay seneschal of England; and Sir\nBaudwin of Britain was made constable; and Sir Ulfius was made\nchamberlain; and Sir Brastias was made warden to wait upon the north\nfrom Trent forwards, for it was that time the most party the king\u2019s\nenemies. But within few years after Arthur won all the north, Scotland,\nand all that were under their obeissance. Also Wales, a part of it,\nheld against Arthur, but he overcame them all, as he did the remnant,\nthrough the noble prowess of himself and his knights of the Round\nTable.\nCHAPTER VIII. How King Arthur held in Wales, at a Pentecost, a great\nfeast, and what kings and lords came to his feast.\nThen the king removed into Wales, and let cry a great feast that it\nshould be holden at Pentecost after the incoronation of him at the city\nof Carlion. Unto the feast came King Lot of Lothian and of Orkney, with\nfive hundred knights with him. Also there came to the feast King Uriens\nof Gore with four hundred knights with him. Also there came to that\nfeast King Nentres of Garlot, with seven hundred knights with him. Also\nthere came to the feast the king of Scotland with six hundred knights\nwith him, and he was but a young man. Also there came to the feast a\nking that was called the King with the Hundred Knights, but he and his\nmen were passing well beseen at all points. Also there came the king of\nCarados with five hundred knights. And King Arthur was glad of their\ncoming, for he weened that all the kings and knights had come for great\nlove, and to have done him worship at his feast; wherefore the king\nmade great joy, and sent the kings and knights great presents. But the\nkings would none receive, but rebuked the messengers shamefully, and\nsaid they had no joy to receive no gifts of a beardless boy that was\ncome of low blood, and sent him word they would none of his gifts, but\nthat they were come to give him gifts with hard swords betwixt the neck\nand the shoulders: and therefore they came thither, so they told to the\nmessengers plainly, for it was great shame to all them to see such a\nboy to have a rule of so noble a realm as this land was. With this\nanswer the messengers departed and told to King Arthur this answer.\nWherefore, by the advice of his barons, he took him to a strong tower\nwith five hundred good men with him. And all the kings aforesaid in a\nmanner laid a siege to-fore him, but King Arthur was well victualed.\nAnd within fifteen days there came Merlin among them into the city of\nCarlion. Then all the kings were passing glad of Merlin, and asked him,\nFor what cause is that boy Arthur made your king? Sirs, said Merlin, I\nshall tell you the cause, for he is King Uther Pendragon\u2019s son, born in\nwedlock, gotten on Igraine, the duke\u2019s wife of Tintagil. Then is he a\nbastard, they said all. Nay, said Merlin, after the death of the duke,\nmore than three hours, was Arthur begotten, and thirteen days after\nKing Uther wedded Igraine; and therefore I prove him he is no bastard.\nAnd who saith nay, he shall be king and overcome all his enemies; and,\nor he die, he shall be long king of all England, and have under his\nobeissance Wales, Ireland, and Scotland, and more realms than I will\nnow rehearse. Some of the kings had marvel of Merlin\u2019s words, and\ndeemed well that it should be as he said; and some of them laughed him\nto scorn, as King Lot; and more other called him a witch. But then were\nthey accorded with Merlin, that King Arthur should come out and speak\nwith the kings, and to come safe and to go safe, such surance there was\nmade. So Merlin went unto King Arthur, and told him how he had done,\nand bade him fear not, but come out boldly and speak with them, and\nspare them not, but answer them as their king and chieftain; for ye\nshall overcome them all, whether they will or nill.\nCHAPTER IX. Of the first war that King Arthur had, and how he won the\nfield.\nThen King Arthur came out of his tower, and had under his gown a\njesseraunt of double mail, and there went with him the Archbishop of\nCanterbury, and Sir Baudwin of Britain, and Sir Kay, and Sir Brastias:\nthese were the men of most worship that were with him. And when they\nwere met there was no meekness, but stout words on both sides; but\nalways King Arthur answered them, and said he would make them to bow an\nhe lived. Wherefore they departed with wrath, and King Arthur bade keep\nthem well, and they bade the king keep him well. So the king returned\nhim to the tower again and armed him and all his knights. What will ye\ndo? said Merlin to the kings; ye were better for to stint, for ye shall\nnot here prevail though ye were ten times so many. Be we well advised\nto be afeared of a dream-reader? said King Lot. With that Merlin\nvanished away, and came to King Arthur, and bade him set on them\nfiercely; and in the meanwhile there were three hundred good men, of\nthe best that were with the kings, that went straight unto King Arthur,\nand that comforted him greatly. Sir, said Merlin to Arthur, fight not\nwith the sword that ye had by miracle, till that ye see ye go unto the\nworse, then draw it out and do your best. So forthwithal King Arthur\nset upon them in their lodging. And Sir Baudwin, Sir Kay, and Sir\nBrastias slew on the right hand and on the left hand that it was\nmarvel; and always King Arthur on horseback laid on with a sword, and\ndid marvellous deeds of arms, that many of the kings had great joy of\nhis deeds and hardiness.\nThen King Lot brake out on the back side, and the King with the Hundred\nKnights, and King Carados, and set on Arthur fiercely behind him. With\nthat Sir Arthur turned with his knights, and smote behind and before,\nand ever Sir Arthur was in the foremost press till his horse was slain\nunderneath him. And therewith King Lot smote down King Arthur. With\nthat his four knights received him and set him on horseback. Then he\ndrew his sword Excalibur, but it was so bright in his enemies\u2019 eyes,\nthat it gave light like thirty torches. And therewith he put them\na-back, and slew much people. And then the commons of Carlion arose\nwith clubs and staves and slew many knights; but all the kings held\nthem together with their knights that were left alive, and so fled and\ndeparted. And Merlin came unto Arthur, and counselled him to follow\nthem no further.\nCHAPTER X. How Merlin counselled King Arthur to send for King Ban and\nKing Bors, and of their counsel taken for the war.\nSo after the feast and journey, King Arthur drew him unto London, and\nso by the counsel of Merlin, the king let call his barons to council,\nfor Merlin had told the king that the six kings that made war upon him\nwould in all haste be awroke on him and on his lands. Wherefore the\nking asked counsel at them all. They could no counsel give, but said\nthey were big enough. Ye say well, said Arthur; I thank you for your\ngood courage, but will ye all that loveth me speak with Merlin? ye know\nwell that he hath done much for me, and he knoweth many things, and\nwhen he is afore you, I would that ye prayed him heartily of his best\nadvice. All the barons said they would pray him and desire him. So\nMerlin was sent for, and fair desired of all the barons to give them\nbest counsel. I shall say you, said Merlin, I warn you all, your\nenemies are passing strong for you, and they are good men of arms as be\nalive, and by this time they have gotten to them four kings more, and a\nmighty duke; and unless that our king have more chivalry with him than\nhe may make within the bounds of his own realm, an he fight with them\nin battle, he shall be overcome and slain. What were best to do in this\ncause? said all the barons. I shall tell you, said Merlin, mine advice;\nthere are two brethren beyond the sea, and they be kings both, and\nmarvellous good men of their hands; and that one hight King Ban of\nBenwick, and that other hight King Bors of Gaul, that is France. And on\nthese two kings warreth a mighty man of men, the King Claudas, and\nstriveth with them for a castle, and great war is betwixt them. But\nthis Claudas is so mighty of goods whereof he getteth good knights,\nthat he putteth these two kings most part to the worse; wherefore this\nis my counsel, that our king and sovereign lord send unto the kings Ban\nand Bors by two trusty knights with letters well devised, that an they\nwill come and see King Arthur and his court, and so help him in his\nwars, that he will be sworn unto them to help them in their wars\nagainst King Claudas. Now, what say ye unto this counsel? said Merlin.\nThis is well counselled, said the king and all the barons.\nRight so in all haste there were ordained to go two knights on the\nmessage unto the two kings. So were there made letters in the pleasant\nwise according unto King Arthur\u2019s desire. Ulfius and Brastias were made\nthe messengers, and so rode forth well horsed and well armed and as the\nguise was that time, and so passed the sea and rode toward the city of\nBenwick. And there besides were eight knights that espied them, and at\na strait passage they met with Ulfius and Brastias, and would have\ntaken them prisoners; so they prayed them that they might pass, for\nthey were messengers unto King Ban and Bors sent from King Arthur.\nTherefore, said the eight knights, ye shall die or be prisoners, for we\nbe knights of King Claudas. And therewith two of them dressed their\nspears, and Ulfius and Brastias dressed their spears, and ran together\nwith great raundon. And Claudas\u2019 knights brake their spears, and theirs\nto-held and bare the two knights out of their saddles to the earth, and\nso left them lying, and rode their ways. And the other six knights rode\nafore to a passage to meet with them again, and so Ulfius and Brastias\nsmote other two down, and so passed on their ways. And at the fourth\npassage there met two for two, and both were laid unto the earth; so\nthere was none of the eight knights but he was sore hurt or bruised.\nAnd when they come to Benwick it fortuned there were both kings, Ban\nand Bors.\nAnd when it was told the kings that there were come messengers, there\nwere sent unto them two knights of worship, the one hight Lionses, lord\nof the country of Payarne, and Sir Phariance a worshipful knight. Anon\nthey asked from whence they came, and they said from King Arthur, king\nof England; so they took them in their arms and made great joy each of\nother. But anon, as the two kings wist they were messengers of\nArthur\u2019s, there was made no tarrying, but forthwith they spake with the\nknights, and welcomed them in the faithfullest wise, and said they were\nmost welcome unto them before all the kings living; and therewith they\nkissed the letters and delivered them. And when Ban and Bors understood\nthe letters, then they were more welcome than they were before. And\nafter the haste of the letters they gave them this answer, that they\nwould fulfil the desire of King Arthur\u2019s writing, and Ulfius and\nBrastias, tarry there as long as they would, they should have such\ncheer as might be made them in those marches. Then Ulfius and Brastias\ntold the kings of the adventure at their passages of the eight knights.\nHa! ah! said Ban and Bors, they were my good friends. I would I had\nwist of them; they should not have escaped so. So Ulfius and Brastias\nhad good cheer and great gifts, as much as they might bear away; and\nhad their answer by mouth and by writing, that those two kings would\ncome unto Arthur in all the haste that they might. So the two knights\nrode on afore, and passed the sea, and came to their lord, and told him\nhow they had sped, whereof King Arthur was passing glad. At what time\nsuppose ye the two kings will be here? Sir, said they, afore All\nHallowmass. Then the king let purvey for a great feast, and let cry a\ngreat jousts. And by All Hallowmass the two kings were come over the\nsea with three hundred knights well arrayed both for the peace and for\nthe war. And King Arthur met with them ten mile out of London, and\nthere was great joy as could be thought or made. And on All Hallowmass\nat the great feast, sat in the hall the three kings, and Sir Kay\nseneschal served in the hall, and Sir Lucas the butler, that was Duke\nCorneus\u2019 son, and Sir Griflet, that was the son of Cardol, these three\nknights had the rule of all the service that served the kings. And\nanon, as they had washen and risen, all knights that would joust made\nthem ready; by then they were ready on horseback there were seven\nhundred knights. And Arthur, Ban, and Bors, with the Archbishop of\nCanterbury, and Sir Ector, Kay\u2019s father, they were in a place covered\nwith cloth of gold like an hall, with ladies and gentlewomen, for to\nbehold who did best, and thereon to give judgment.\nCHAPTER XI. Of a great tourney made by King Arthur and the two kings\nBan and Bors, and how they went over the sea.\nAnd King Arthur and the two kings let depart the seven hundred knights\nin two parties. And there were three hundred knights of the realm of\nBenwick and of Gaul turned on the other side. Then they dressed their\nshields, and began to couch their spears many good knights. So Griflet\nwas the first that met with a knight, one Ladinas, and they met so\neagerly that all men had wonder; and they so fought that their shields\nfell to pieces, and horse and man fell to the earth; and both the\nFrench knight and the English knight lay so long that all men weened\nthey had been dead. When Lucas the butler saw Griflet so lie, he horsed\nhim again anon, and they two did marvellous deeds of arms with many\nbachelors. Also Sir Kay came out of an ambushment with five knights\nwith him, and they six smote other six down. But Sir Kay did that day\nmarvellous deeds of arms, that there was none did so well as he that\nday. Then there came Ladinas and Gracian, two knights of France, and\ndid passing well, that all men praised them.\nThen came there Sir Placidas, a good knight, and met with Sir Kay, and\nsmote him down horse and man, where fore Sir Griflet was wroth, and met\nwith Sir Placidas so hard, that horse and man fell to the earth. But\nwhen the five knights wist that Sir Kay had a fall, they were wroth out\nof wit, and therewith each of them five bare down a knight. When King\nArthur and the two kings saw them begin to wax wroth on both parties,\nthey leapt on small hackneys, and let cry that all men should depart\nunto their lodging. And so they went home and unarmed them, and so to\nevensong and supper. And after, the three kings went into a garden, and\ngave the prize unto Sir Kay, and to Lucas the butler, and unto Sir\nGriflet. And then they went unto council, and with them Gwenbaus, the\nbrother unto Sir Ban and Bors, a wise clerk, and thither went Ulfius\nand Brastias, and Merlin. And after they had been in council, they went\nunto bed. And on the morn they heard mass, and to dinner, and so to\ntheir council, and made many arguments what were best to do. At the\nlast they were concluded, that Merlin should go with a token of King\nBan, and that was a ring, unto his men and King Bors\u2019; and Gracian and\nPlacidas should go again and keep their castles and their countries, as\nfor [dread of King Claudas] King Ban of Benwick, and King Bors of Gaul\nhad ordained them, and so passed the sea and came to Benwick. And when\nthe people saw King Ban\u2019s ring, and Gracian and Placidas, they were\nglad, and asked how the kings fared, and made great joy of their\nwelfare and cording, and according unto the sovereign lords desire, the\nmen of war made them ready in all haste possible, so that they were\nfifteen thousand on horse and foot, and they had great plenty of\nvictual with them, by Merlin\u2019s provision. But Gracian and Placidas were\nleft to furnish and garnish the castles, for dread of King Claudas.\nRight so Merlin passed the sea, well victualled both by water and by\nland. And when he came to the sea he sent home the footmen again, and\ntook no more with him but ten thousand men on horseback, the most part\nmen of arms, and so shipped and passed the sea into England, and landed\nat Dover; and through the wit of Merlin, he had the host northward, the\npriviest way that could be thought, unto the forest of Bedegraine, and\nthere in a valley he lodged them secretly.\nThen rode Merlin unto Arthur and the two kings, and told them how he\nhad sped; whereof they had great marvel, that man on earth might speed\nso soon, and go and come. So Merlin told them ten thousand were in the\nforest of Bedegraine, well armed at all points. Then was there no more\nto say, but to horseback went all the host as Arthur had afore\npurveyed. So with twenty thousand he passed by night and day, but there\nwas made such an ordinance afore by Merlin, that there should no man of\nwar ride nor go in no country on this side Trent water, but if he had a\ntoken from King Arthur, where through the king\u2019s enemies durst not ride\nas they did to-fore to espy.\nCHAPTER XII. How eleven kings gathered a great host against King\nArthur.\nAnd so within a little space the three kings came unto the castle of\nBedegraine, and found there a passing fair fellowship, and well beseen,\nwhereof they had great joy, and victual they wanted none. This was the\ncause of the northern host: that they were reared for the despite and\nrebuke the six kings had at Carlion. And those six kings by their\nmeans, gat unto them five other kings; and thus they began to gather\ntheir people.\nAnd now they sware that for weal nor woe, they should not leave other,\ntill they had destroyed Arthur. And then they made an oath. The first\nthat began the oath was the Duke of Cambenet, that he would bring with\nhim five thousand men of arms, the which were ready on horseback. Then\nsware King Brandegoris of Stranggore that he would bring five thousand\nmen of arms on horseback. Then sware King Clariance of Northumberland\nhe would bring three thousand men of arms. Then sware the King of the\nHundred Knights, that was a passing good man and a young, that he would\nbring four thousand men of arms on horseback. Then there swore King\nLot, a passing good knight, and Sir Gawain\u2019s father, that he would\nbring five thousand men of arms on horseback. Also there swore King\nUrience, that was Sir Uwain\u2019s father, of the land of Gore, and he would\nbring six thousand men of arms on horseback. Also there swore King\nIdres of Cornwall, that he would bring five thousand men of arms on\nhorseback. Also there swore King Cradelmas to bring five thousand men\non horseback. Also there swore King Agwisance of Ireland to bring five\nthousand men of arms on horseback. Also there swore King Nentres to\nbring five thousand men of arms on horseback. Also there swore King\nCarados to bring five thousand men of arms on horseback. So their whole\nhost was of clean men of arms on horseback fifty thousand, and a-foot\nten thousand of good men\u2019s bodies. Then were they soon ready, and\nmounted upon horse and sent forth their fore-riders, for these eleven\nkings in their ways laid a siege unto the castle of Bedegraine; and so\nthey departed and drew toward Arthur, and left few to abide at the\nsiege, for the castle of Bedegraine was holden of King Arthur, and the\nmen that were therein were Arthur\u2019s.\nCHAPTER XIII. Of a dream of the King with the Hundred Knights.\nSo by Merlin\u2019s advice there were sent fore-riders to skim the country,\nand they met with the fore-riders of the north, and made them to tell\nwhich way the host came, and then they told it to Arthur, and by King\nBan and Bors\u2019 council they let burn and destroy all the country afore\nthem, there they should ride.\nThe King with the Hundred Knights met a wonder dream two nights afore\nthe battle, that there blew a great wind, and blew down their castles\nand their towns, and after that came a water and bare it all away. All\nthat heard of the sweven said it was a token of great battle. Then by\ncounsel of Merlin, when they wist which way the eleven kings would ride\nand lodge that night, at midnight they set upon them, as they were in\ntheir pavilions. But the scout-watch by their host cried, Lords! at\narms! for here be your enemies at your hand!\nCHAPTER XIV. How the eleven kings with their host fought against Arthur\nand his host, and many great feats of the war.\nThen King Arthur and King Ban and King Bors, with their good and trusty\nknights, set on them so fiercely that they made them overthrow their\npavilions on their heads, but the eleven kings, by manly prowess of\narms, took a fair champaign, but there was slain that morrowtide ten\nthousand good men\u2019s bodies. And so they had afore them a strong\npassage, yet were they fifty thousand of hardy men. Then it drew toward\nday. Now shall ye do by mine advice, said Merlin unto the three kings:\nI would that King Ban and King Bors, with their fellowship of ten\nthousand men, were put in a wood here beside, in an ambushment, and\nkeep them privy, and that they be laid or the light of the day come,\nand that they stir not till ye and your knights have fought with them\nlong. And when it is daylight, dress your battle even afore them and\nthe passage, that they may see all your host, for then will they be the\nmore hardy, when they see you but about twenty thousand men, and cause\nthem to be the gladder to suffer you and your host to come over the\npassage. All the three kings and the whole barons said that Merlin said\npassingly well, and it was done anon as Merlin had devised. So on the\nmorn, when either host saw other, the host of the north was well\ncomforted. Then to Ulfius and Brastias were delivered three thousand\nmen of arms, and they set on them fiercely in the passage, and slew on\nthe right hand and on the left hand that it was wonder to tell.\nWhen that the eleven kings saw that there was so few a fellowship did\nsuch deeds of arms, they were ashamed and set on them again fiercely;\nand there was Sir Ulfius\u2019s horse slain under him, but he did\nmarvellously well on foot. But the Duke Eustace of Cambenet and King\nClariance of Northumberland, were alway grievous on Ulfius. Then\nBrastias saw his fellow fared so withal he smote the duke with a spear,\nthat horse and man fell down. That saw King Clariance and returned unto\nBrastias, and either smote other so that horse and man went to the\nearth, and so they lay long astonied, and their horses\u2019 knees brast to\nthe hard bone. Then came Sir Kay the seneschal with six fellows with\nhim, and did passing well. With that came the eleven kings, and there\nwas Griflet put to the earth, horse and man, and Lucas the butler,\nhorse and man, by King Brandegoris, and King Idres, and King Agwisance.\nThen waxed the medley passing hard on both parties. When Sir Kay saw\nGriflet on foot, he rode on King Nentres and smote him down, and led\nhis horse unto Sir Griflet, and horsed him again. Also Sir Kay with the\nsame spear smote down King Lot, and hurt him passing sore. That saw the\nKing with the Hundred Knights, and ran unto Sir Kay and smote him down,\nand took his horse, and gave him King Lot, whereof he said gramercy.\nWhen Sir Griflet saw Sir Kay and Lucas the butler on foot, he took a\nsharp spear, great and square, and rode to Pinel, a good man of arms,\nand smote horse and man down, and then he took his horse, and gave him\nunto Sir Kay. Then King Lot saw King Nentres on foot, he ran unto Melot\nde la Roche, and smote him down, horse and man, and gave King Nentres\nthe horse, and horsed him again. Also the King of the Hundred Knights\nsaw King Idres on foot; then he ran unto Gwiniart de Bloi, and smote\nhim down, horse and man, and gave King Idres the horse, and horsed him\nagain; and King Lot smote down Clariance de la Forest Savage, and gave\nthe horse unto Duke Eustace. And so when they had horsed the kings\nagain they drew them, all eleven kings, together, and said they would\nbe revenged of the damage that they had taken that day. The meanwhile\ncame in Sir Ector with an eager countenance, and found Ulfius and\nBrastias on foot, in great peril of death, that were foul defoiled\nunder horse-feet.\nThen Arthur as a lion, ran unto King Cradelment of North Wales, and\nsmote him through the left side, that the horse and the king fell down;\nand then he took the horse by the rein, and led him unto Ulfius, and\nsaid, Have this horse, mine old friend, for great need hast thou of\nhorse. Gramercy, said Ulfius. Then Sir Arthur did so marvellously in\narms, that all men had wonder. When the King with the Hundred Knights\nsaw King Cradelment on foot, he ran unto Sir Ector, that was well\nhorsed, Sir Kay\u2019s father, and smote horse and man down, and gave the\nhorse unto the king, and horsed him again. And when King Arthur saw the\nking ride on Sir Ector\u2019s horse, he was wroth and with his sword he\nsmote the king on the helm, that a quarter of the helm and shield fell\ndown, and so the sword carved down unto the horse\u2019s neck, and so the\nking and the horse fell down to the ground. Then Sir Kay came unto Sir\nMorganore, seneschal with the King of the Hundred Knights, and smote\nhim down, horse and man, and led the horse unto his father, Sir Ector;\nthen Sir Ector ran unto a knight, hight Lardans, and smote horse and\nman down, and led the horse unto Sir Brastias, that great need had of\nan horse, and was greatly defoiled. When Brastias beheld Lucas the\nbutler, that lay like a dead man under the horses\u2019 feet, and ever Sir\nGriflet did marvellously for to rescue him, and there were always\nfourteen knights on Sir Lucas; then Brastias smote one of them on the\nhelm, that it went to the teeth, and he rode to another and smote him,\nthat the arm flew into the field. Then he went to the third and smote\nhim on the shoulder, that shoulder and arm flew in the field. And when\nGriflet saw rescues, he smote a knight on the temples, that head and\nhelm went to the earth, and Griflet took the horse of that knight, and\nled him unto Sir Lucas, and bade him mount upon the horse and revenge\nhis hurts. For Brastias had slain a knight to-fore and horsed Griflet.\nCHAPTER XV. Yet of the same battle.\nThen Lucas saw King Agwisance, that late had slain Moris de la Roche,\nand Lucas ran to him with a short spear that was great, that he gave\nhim such a fall, that the horse fell down to the earth. Also Lucas\nfound there on foot, Bloias de La Flandres, and Sir Gwinas, two hardy\nknights, and in that woodness that Lucas was in, he slew two bachelors\nand horsed them again. Then waxed the battle passing hard on both\nparties, but Arthur was glad that his knights were horsed again, and\nthen they fought together, that the noise and sound rang by the water\nand the wood. Wherefore King Ban and King Bors made them ready, and\ndressed their shields and harness, and they were so courageous that\nmany knights shook and bevered for eagerness. All this while Lucas, and\nGwinas, and Briant, and Bellias of Flanders, held strong medley against\nsix kings, that was King Lot, King Nentres, King Brandegoris, King\nIdres, King Uriens, and King Agwisance. So with the help of Sir Kay and\nof Sir Griflet they held these six kings hard, that unnethe they had\nany power to defend them. But when Sir Arthur saw the battle would not\nbe ended by no manner, he fared wood as a lion, and steered his horse\nhere and there, on the right hand, and on the left hand, that he\nstinted not till he had slain twenty knights. Also he wounded King Lot\nsore on the shoulder, and made him to leave that ground, for Sir Kay\nand Griflet did with King Arthur there great deeds of arms. Then\nUlfius, and Brastias, and Sir Ector encountered against the Duke\nEustace, and King Cradelment, and King Clariance of Northumberland, and\nKing Carados, and against the King with the Hundred Knights. So these\nknights encountered with these kings, that they made them to avoid the\nground. Then King Lot made great dole for his damages and his fellows,\nand said unto the ten kings, But if ye will do as I devise we shall be\nslain and destroyed; let me have the King with the Hundred Knights, and\nKing Agwisance, and King Idres, and the Duke of Cambenet, and we five\nkings will have fifteen thousand men of arms with us, and we will go\napart while ye six kings hold medley with twelve thousand; an we see\nthat ye have foughten with them long, then will we come on fiercely,\nand else shall we never match them, said King Lot, but by this mean. So\nthey departed as they here devised, and six kings made their party\nstrong against Arthur, and made great war long.\nIn the meanwhile brake the ambushment of King Ban and King Bors, and\nLionses and Phariance had the vanguard, and they two knights met with\nKing Idres and his fellowship, and there began a great medley of\nbreaking of spears, and smiting of swords, with slaying of men and\nhorses, and King Idres was near at discomforture.\nThat saw Agwisance the king, and put Lionses and Phariance in point of\ndeath; for the Duke of Cambenet came on withal with a great fellowship.\nSo these two knights were in great danger of their lives that they were\nfain to return, but always they rescued themselves and their fellowship\nmarvellously. When King Bors saw those knights put aback, it grieved\nhim sore; then he came on so fast that his fellowship seemed as black\nas Inde. When King Lot had espied King Bors, he knew him well, then he\nsaid, O Jesu, defend us from death and horrible maims! for I see well\nwe be in great peril of death; for I see yonder a king, one of the most\nworshipfullest men and one of the best knights of the world, is\ninclined unto his fellowship. What is he? said the King with the\nHundred Knights. It is, said King Lot, King Bors of Gaul; I marvel how\nthey came into this country without witting of us all. It was by\nMerlin\u2019s advice, said the knight. As for him, said King Carados, I will\nencounter with King Bors, an ye will rescue me when myster is. Go on,\nsaid they all, we will do all that we may. Then King Carados and his\nhost rode on a soft pace, till that they came as nigh King Bors as\nbow-draught; then either battle let their horse run as fast as they\nmight. And Bleoberis, that was godson unto King Bors, he bare his chief\nstandard, that was a passing good knight. Now shall we see, said King\nBors, how these northern Britons can bear the arms: and King Bors\nencountered with a knight, and smote him throughout with a spear that\nhe fell dead unto the earth; and after drew his sword and did\nmarvellous deeds of arms, that all parties had great wonder thereof;\nand his knights failed not, but did their part, and King Carados was\nsmitten to the earth. With that came the King with the Hundred Knights\nand rescued King Carados mightily by force of arms, for he was a\npassing good knight of a king, and but a young man.\nCHAPTER XVI. Yet more of the same battle.\nBy then came into the field King Ban as fierce as a lion, with bands of\ngreen and thereupon gold. Ha! a! said King Lot, we must be discomfited,\nfor yonder I see the most valiant knight of the world, and the man of\nthe most renown, for such two brethren as is King Ban and King Bors are\nnot living, wherefore we must needs void or die; and but if we avoid\nmanly and wisely there is but death. When King Ban came into the\nbattle, he came in so fiercely that the strokes redounded again from\nthe wood and the water; wherefore King Lot wept for pity and dole that\nhe saw so many good knights take their end. But through the great force\nof King Ban they made both the northern battles that were departed\nhurtled together for great dread; and the three kings and their knights\nslew on ever, that it was pity on to behold that multitude of the\npeople that fled. But King Lot, and King of the Hundred Knights, and\nKing Morganore gathered the people together passing knightly, and did\ngreat prowess of arms, and held the battle all that day, like hard.\nWhen the King of the Hundred Knights beheld the great damage that King\nBan did, he thrust unto him with his horse, and smote him on high upon\nthe helm, a great stroke, and astonied him sore. Then King Ban was\nwroth with him, and followed on him fiercely; the other saw that, and\ncast up his shield, and spurred his horse forward, but the stroke of\nKing Ban fell down and carved a cantel off the shield, and the sword\nslid down by the hauberk behind his back, and cut through the trapping\nof steel and the horse even in two pieces, that the sword felt the\nearth. Then the King of the Hundred Knights voided the horse lightly,\nand with his sword he broached the horse of King Ban through and\nthrough. With that King Ban voided lightly from the dead horse, and\nthen King Ban smote at the other so eagerly, and smote him on the helm\nthat he fell to the earth. Also in that ire he felled King Morganore,\nand there was great slaughter of good knights and much people. By then\ncame into the press King Arthur, and found King Ban standing among dead\nmen and dead horses, fighting on foot as a wood lion, that there came\nnone nigh him, as far as he might reach with his sword, but he caught a\ngrievous buffet; whereof King Arthur had great pity. And Arthur was so\nbloody, that by his shield there might no man know him, for all was\nblood and brains on his sword. And as Arthur looked by him he saw a\nknight that was passingly well horsed, and therewith Sir Arthur ran to\nhim, and smote him on the helm, that his sword went unto his teeth, and\nthe knight sank down to the earth dead, and anon Arthur took the horse\nby the rein, and led him unto King Ban, and said, Fair brother, have\nthis horse, for he have great myster thereof, and me repenteth sore of\nyour great damage. It shall be soon revenged, said King Ban, for I\ntrust in God mine ure is not such but some of them may sore repent\nthis. I will well, said Arthur, for I see your deeds full actual;\nnevertheless, I might not come at you at that time.\nBut when King Ban was mounted on horseback, then there began new\nbattle, the which was sore and hard, and passing great slaughter. And\nso through great force King Arthur, King Ban, and King Bors made their\nknights a little to withdraw them. But alway the eleven kings with\ntheir chivalry never turned back; and so withdrew them to a little\nwood, and so over a little river, and there they rested them, for on\nthe night they might have no rest on the field. And then the eleven\nkings and knights put them on a heap all together, as men adread and\nout of all comfort. But there was no man might pass them, they held\nthem so hard together both behind and before, that King Arthur had\nmarvel of their deeds of arms, and was passing wroth. Ah, Sir Arthur,\nsaid King Ban and King Bors, blame them not, for they do as good men\nought to do. For by my faith, said King Ban, they are the best fighting\nmen, and knights of most prowess, that ever I saw or heard speak of,\nand those eleven kings are men of great worship; and if they were\nlonging unto you there were no king under the heaven had such eleven\nknights, and of such worship. I may not love them, said Arthur, they\nwould destroy me. That wot we well, said King Ban and King Bors, for\nthey are your mortal enemies, and that hath been proved aforehand; and\nthis day they have done their part, and that is great pity of their\nwilfulness.\nThen all the eleven kings drew them together, and then said King Lot,\nLords, ye must other ways than ye do, or else the great loss is behind;\nye may see what people we have lost, and what good men we lose, because\nwe wait always on these foot-men, and ever in saving of one of the\nfoot-men we lose ten horsemen for him; therefore this is mine advice,\nlet us put our foot-men from us, for it is near night, for the noble\nArthur will not tarry on the footmen, for they may save themselves, the\nwood is near hand. And when we horsemen be together, look every each of\nyou kings let make such ordinance that none break upon pain of death.\nAnd who that seeth any man dress him to flee, lightly that he be slain,\nfor it is better that we slay a coward, than through a coward all we to\nbe slain. How say ye? said King Lot, answer me all ye kings. It is well\nsaid, quoth King Nentres; so said the King of the Hundred Knights; the\nsame said the King Carados, and King Uriens; so did King Idres and King\nBrandegoris; and so did King Cradelment, and the Duke of Cambenet; the\nsame said King Clariance and King Agwisance, and sware they would never\nfail other, neither for life nor for death. And whoso that fled, but\ndid as they did, should be slain. Then they amended their harness, and\nrighted their shields, and took new spears and set them on their\nthighs, and stood still as it had been a plump of wood.\nCHAPTER XVII. Yet more of the same battle, and how it was ended by\nMerlin.\nWhen Sir Arthur and King Ban and Bors beheld them and all their\nknights, they praised them much for their noble cheer of chivalry, for\nthe hardiest fighters that ever they heard or saw. With that, there\ndressed them a forty noble knights, and said unto the three kings, they\nwould break their battle; these were their names: Lionses, Phariance,\nUlfius, Brastias, Ector, Kay, Lucas the butler, Griflet le Fise de\nDieu, Mariet de la Roche, Guinas de Bloi, Briant de la Forest Savage,\nBellaus, Morians of the Castle [of] Maidens, Flannedrius of the Castle\nof Ladies, Annecians that was King Bors\u2019 godson, a noble knight,\nLadinas de la Rouse, Emerause, Caulas, Graciens le Castlein, one Blois\nde la Case, and Sir Colgrevaunce de Gorre; all these knights rode on\nafore with spears on their thighs, and spurred their horses mightily as\nthe horses might run. And the eleven kings with part of their knights\nrushed with their horses as fast as they might with their spears, and\nthere they did on both parties marvellous deeds of arms. So came into\nthe thick of the press, Arthur, Ban, and Bors, and slew down right on\nboth hands, that their horses went in blood up to the fetlocks. But\never the eleven kings and their host was ever in the visage of Arthur.\nWherefore Ban and Bors had great marvel, considering the great\nslaughter that there was, but at the last they were driven aback over a\nlittle river. With that came Merlin on a great black horse, and said\nunto Arthur, Thou hast never done! Hast thou not done enough? of three\nscore thousand this day hast thou left alive but fifteen thousand, and\nit is time to say Ho! For God is wroth with thee, that thou wilt never\nhave done; for yonder eleven kings at this time will not be overthrown,\nbut an thou tarry on them any longer, thy fortune will turn and they\nshall increase. And therefore withdraw you unto your lodging, and rest\nyou as soon as ye may, and reward your good knights with gold and with\nsilver, for they have well deserved it; there may no riches be too dear\nfor them, for of so few men as ye have, there were never men did more\nof prowess than they have done today, for ye have matched this day with\nthe best fighters of the world. That is truth, said King Ban and Bors.\nAlso said Merlin, withdraw you where ye list, for this three year I\ndare undertake they shall not dere you; and by then ye shall hear new\ntidings. And then Merlin said unto Arthur, These eleven kings have more\non hand than they are ware of, for the Saracens are landed in their\ncountries, more than forty thousand, that burn and slay, and have laid\nsiege at the castle Wandesborow, and make great destruction; therefore\ndread you not this three year. Also, sir, all the goods that be gotten\nat this battle, let it be searched, and when ye have it in your hands,\nlet it be given freely unto these two kings, Ban and Bors, that they\nmay reward their knights withal; and that shall cause strangers to be\nof better will to do you service at need. Also you be able to reward\nyour own knights of your own goods whensomever it liketh you. It is\nwell said, quoth Arthur, and as thou hast devised, so shall it be done.\nWhen it was delivered to Ban and Bors, they gave the goods as freely to\ntheir knights as freely as it was given to them. Then Merlin took his\nleave of Arthur and of the two kings, for to go and see his master\nBleise, that dwelt in Northumberland; and so he departed and came to\nhis master, that was passing glad of his coming; and there he told how\nArthur and the two kings had sped at the great battle, and how it was\nended, and told the names of every king and knight of worship that was\nthere. And so Bleise wrote the battle word by word, as Merlin told him,\nhow it began, and by whom, and in likewise how it was ended, and who\nhad the worse. All the battles that were done in Arthur\u2019s days Merlin\ndid his master Bleise do write; also he did do write all the battles\nthat every worthy knight did of Arthur\u2019s court.\nAfter this Merlin departed from his master and came to King Arthur,\nthat was in the castle of Bedegraine, that was one of the castles that\nstand in the forest of Sherwood. And Merlin was so disguised that King\nArthur knew him not, for he was all befurred in black sheep-skins, and\na great pair of boots, and a bow and arrows, in a russet gown, and\nbrought wild geese in his hand, and it was on the morn after Candlemas\nday; but King Arthur knew him not. Sir, said Merlin unto the king, will\nye give me a gift? Wherefore, said King Arthur, should I give thee a\ngift, churl? Sir, said Merlin, ye were better to give me a gift that is\nnot in your hand than to lose great riches, for here in the same place\nwhere the great battle was, is great treasure hid in the earth. Who\ntold thee so, churl? said Arthur. Merlin told me so, said he. Then\nUlfius and Brastias knew him well enough, and smiled. Sir, said these\ntwo knights, it is Merlin that so speaketh unto you. Then King Arthur\nwas greatly abashed, and had marvel of Merlin, and so had King Ban and\nKing Bors, and so they had great disport at him. So in the meanwhile\nthere came a damosel that was an earl\u2019s daughter: his name was Sanam,\nand her name was Lionors, a passing fair damosel; and so she came\nthither for to do homage, as other lords did after the great battle.\nAnd King Arthur set his love greatly upon her, and so did she upon him,\nand the king had ado with her, and gat on her a child: his name was\nBorre, that was after a good knight, and of the Table Round. Then there\ncame word that the King Rience of North Wales made great war on King\nLeodegrance of Cameliard, for the which thing Arthur was wroth, for he\nloved him well, and hated King Rience, for he was alway against him. So\nby ordinance of the three kings that were sent home unto Benwick, all\nthey would depart for dread of King Claudas; and Phariance, and\nAntemes, and Gratian, and Lionses [of] Payarne, with the leaders of\nthose that should keep the kings\u2019 lands.\nCHAPTER XVIII. How King Arthur, King Ban, and King Bors rescued King\nLeodegrance, and other incidents.\nAnd then King Arthur, and King Ban, and King Bors departed with their\nfellowship, a twenty thousand, and came within six days into the\ncountry of Cameliard, and there rescued King Leodegrance, and slew\nthere much people of King Rience, unto the number of ten thousand men,\nand put him to flight. And then had these three kings great cheer of\nKing Leodegrance, that thanked them of their great goodness, that they\nwould revenge him of his enemies; and there had Arthur the first sight\nof Guenever, the king\u2019s daughter of Cameliard, and ever after he loved\nher. After they were wedded, as it telleth in the book. So, briefly to\nmake an end, they took their leave to go into their own countries, for\nKing Claudas did great destruction on their lands. Then said Arthur, I\nwill go with you. Nay, said the kings, ye shall not at this time, for\nye have much to do yet in these lands, therefore we will depart, and\nwith the great goods that we have gotten in these lands by your gifts,\nwe shall wage good knights and withstand the King Claudas\u2019 malice, for\nby the grace of God, an we have need we will send to you for your\nsuccour; and if ye have need, send for us, and we will not tarry, by\nthe faith of our bodies. It shall not, said Merlin, need that these two\nkings come again in the way of war, but I know well King Arthur may not\nbe long from you, for within a year or two ye shall have great need,\nand then shall he revenge you on your enemies, as ye have done on his.\nFor these eleven kings shall die all in a day, by the great might and\nprowess of arms of two valiant knights (as it telleth after); their\nnames be Balin le Savage, and Balan, his brother, that be marvellous\ngood knights as be any living.\nNow turn we to the eleven kings that returned unto a city that hight\nSorhaute, the which city was within King Uriens\u2019, and there they\nrefreshed them as well as they might, and made leeches search their\nwounds, and sorrowed greatly for the death of their people. With that\nthere came a messenger and told how there was come into their lands\npeople that were lawless as well as Saracens, a forty thousand, and\nhave burnt and slain all the people that they may come by, without\nmercy, and have laid siege on the castle of Wandesborow. Alas, said the\neleven kings, here is sorrow upon sorrow, and if we had not warred\nagainst Arthur as we have done, he would soon revenge us. As for King\nLeodegrance, he loveth Arthur better than us, and as for King Rience,\nhe hath enough to do with Leodegrance, for he hath laid siege unto him.\nSo they consented together to keep all the marches of Cornwall, of\nWales, and of the North. So first, they put King Idres in the City of\nNauntes in Britain, with four thousand men of arms, to watch both the\nwater and the land. Also they put in the city of Windesan, King Nentres\nof Garlot, with four thousand knights to watch both on water and on\nland. Also they had of other men of war more than eight thousand, for\nto fortify all the fortresses in the marches of Cornwall. Also they put\nmore knights in all the marches of Wales and Scotland, with many good\nmen of arms, and so they kept them together the space of three year,\nand ever allied them with mighty kings and dukes and lords. And to them\nfell King Rience of North Wales, the which and Nero that was a mighty\nman of men. And all this while they furnished them and garnished them\nof good men of arms, and victual, and of all manner of habiliment that\npretendeth to the war, to avenge them for the battle of Bedegraine, as\nit telleth in the book of adventures following.\nCHAPTER XIX. How King Arthur rode to Carlion, and of his dream, and how\nhe saw the questing beast.\nThen after the departing of King Ban and of King Bors, King Arthur rode\ninto Carlion. And thither came to him, King Lot\u2019s wife, of Orkney, in\nmanner of a message, but she was sent thither to espy the court of King\nArthur; and she came richly beseen, with her four sons, Gawaine,\nGaheris, Agravine, and Gareth, with many other knights and ladies. For\nshe was a passing fair lady, therefore the king cast great love unto\nher, and desired to lie by her; so they were agreed, and he begat upon\nher Mordred, and she was his sister, on his mother\u2019s side, Igraine. So\nthere she rested her a month, and at the last departed. Then the king\ndreamed a marvellous dream whereof he was sore adread. But all this\ntime King Arthur knew not that King Lot\u2019s wife was his sister. Thus was\nthe dream of Arthur: Him thought there was come into this land griffins\nand serpents, and him thought they burnt and slew all the people in the\nland, and then him thought he fought with them, and they did him\npassing great harm, and wounded him full sore, but at the last he slew\nthem. When the king awaked, he was passing heavy of his dream, and so\nto put it out of thoughts, he made him ready with many knights to ride\na-hunting. As soon as he was in the forest the king saw a great hart\nafore him. This hart will I chase, said King Arthur, and so he spurred\nthe horse, and rode after long, and so by fine force oft he was like to\nhave smitten the hart; whereas the king had chased the hart so long,\nthat his horse lost his breath, and fell down dead. Then a yeoman\nfetched the king another horse.\nSo the king saw the hart enbushed, and his horse dead, he set him down\nby a fountain, and there he fell in great thoughts. And as he sat so,\nhim thought he heard a noise of hounds, to the sum of thirty. And with\nthat the king saw coming toward him the strangest beast that ever he\nsaw or heard of; so the beast went to the well and drank, and the noise\nwas in the beast\u2019s belly like unto the questing of thirty couple\nhounds; but all the while the beast drank there was no noise in the\nbeast\u2019s belly: and there with the beast departed with a great noise,\nwhereof the king had great marvel. And so he was in a great thought,\nand therewith he fell asleep. Right so there came a knight afoot unto\nArthur and said, Knight full of thought and sleepy, tell me if thou\nsawest a strange beast pass this way. Such one saw I, said King Arthur,\nthat is past two mile; what would ye with the beast? said Arthur. Sir,\nI have followed that beast long time, and killed mine horse, so would\nGod I had another to follow my quest. Right so came one with the king\u2019s\nhorse, and when the knight saw the horse, he prayed the king to give\nhim the horse: for I have followed this quest this twelvemonth, and\neither I shall achieve him, or bleed of the best blood of my body.\nPellinore, that time king, followed the Questing Beast, and after his\ndeath Sir Palamides followed it.\nCHAPTER XX. How King Pellinore took Arthur\u2019s horse and followed the\nQuesting Beast, and how Merlin met with Arthur.\nSir knight, said the king, leave that quest, and suffer me to have it,\nand I will follow it another twelvemonth. Ah, fool, said the knight\nunto Arthur, it is in vain thy desire, for it shall never be achieved\nbut by me, or my next kin. Therewith he started unto the king\u2019s horse\nand mounted into the saddle, and said, Gramercy, this horse is my own.\nWell, said the king, thou mayst take my horse by force, but an I might\nprove thee whether thou were better on horseback or I.\u2014Well, said the\nknight, seek me here when thou wilt, and here nigh this well thou shalt\nfind me, and so passed on his way. Then the king sat in a study, and\nbade his men fetch his horse as fast as ever they might. Right so came\nby him Merlin like a child of fourteen year of age, and saluted the\nking, and asked him why he was so pensive. I may well be pensive, said\nthe king, for I have seen the marvellest sight that ever I saw. That\nknow I well, said Merlin, as well as thyself, and of all thy thoughts,\nbut thou art but a fool to take thought, for it will not amend thee.\nAlso I know what thou art, and who was thy father, and of whom thou\nwert begotten; King Uther Pendragon was thy father, and begat thee on\nIgraine. That is false, said King Arthur, how shouldest thou know it,\nfor thou art not so old of years to know my father? Yes, said Merlin, I\nknow it better than ye or any man living. I will not believe thee, said\nArthur, and was wroth with the child. So departed Merlin, and came\nagain in the likeness of an old man of fourscore year of age, whereof\nthe king was right glad, for he seemed to be right wise.\nThen said the old man, Why are ye so sad? I may well be heavy, said\nArthur, for many things. Also here was a child, and told me many things\nthat meseemeth he should not know, for he was not of age to know my\nfather. Yes, said the old man, the child told you truth, and more would\nhe have told you an ye would have suffered him. But ye have done a\nthing late that God is displeased with you, for ye have lain by your\nsister, and on her ye have gotten a child that shall destroy you and\nall the knights of your realm. What are ye, said Arthur, that tell me\nthese tidings? I am Merlin, and I was he in the child\u2019s likeness. Ah,\nsaid King Arthur, ye are a marvellous man, but I marvel much of thy\nwords that I must die in battle. Marvel not, said Merlin, for it is\nGod\u2019s will your body to be punished for your foul deeds; but I may well\nbe sorry, said Merlin, for I shall die a shameful death, to be put in\nthe earth quick, and ye shall die a worshipful death. And as they\ntalked this, came one with the king\u2019s horse, and so the king mounted on\nhis horse, and Merlin on another, and so rode unto Carlion. And anon\nthe king asked Ector and Ulfius how he was begotten, and they told him\nUther Pendragon was his father and Queen Igraine his mother. Then he\nsaid to Merlin, I will that my mother be sent for that I may speak with\nher; and if she say so herself then will I believe it. In all haste,\nthe queen was sent for, and she came and brought with her Morgan le\nFay, her daughter, that was as fair a lady as any might be, and the\nking welcomed Igraine in the best manner.\nCHAPTER XXI. How Ulfius impeached Queen Igraine, Arthur\u2019s mother, of\ntreason; and how a knight came and desired to have the death of his\nmaster revenged.\nRight so came Ulfius, and said openly, that the king and all might hear\nthat were feasted that day, Ye are the falsest lady of the world, and\nthe most traitress unto the king\u2019s person. Beware, said Arthur, what\nthou sayest; thou speakest a great word. I am well ware, said Ulfius,\nwhat I speak, and here is my glove to prove it upon any man that will\nsay the contrary, that this Queen Igraine is causer of your great\ndamage, and of your great war. For, an she would have uttered it in the\nlife of King Uther Pendragon, of the birth of you, and how ye were\nbegotten ye had never had the mortal wars that ye have had; for the\nmost part of your barons of your realm knew never whose son ye were,\nnor of whom ye were begotten; and she that bare you of her body should\nhave made it known openly in excusing of her worship and yours, and in\nlike wise to all the realm, wherefore I prove her false to God and to\nyou and to all your realm, and who will say the contrary I will prove\nit on his body.\nThen spake Igraine and said, I am a woman and I may not fight, but\nrather than I should be dishonoured, there would some good man take my\nquarrel. More, she said, Merlin knoweth well, and ye Sir Ulfius, how\nKing Uther came to me in the Castle of Tintagil in the likeness of my\nlord, that was dead three hours to-fore, and thereby gat a child that\nnight upon me. And after the thirteenth day King Uther wedded me, and\nby his commandment when the child was born it was delivered unto Merlin\nand nourished by him, and so I saw the child never after, nor wot not\nwhat is his name, for I knew him never yet. And there, Ulfius said to\nthe queen, Merlin is more to blame than ye. Well I wot, said the queen,\nI bare a child by my lord King Uther, but I wot not where he is become.\nThen Merlin took the king by the hand, saying, This is your mother. And\ntherewith Sir Ector bare witness how he nourished him by Uther\u2019s\ncommandment. And therewith King Arthur took his mother, Queen Igraine,\nin his arms and kissed her, and either wept upon other. And then the\nking let make a feast that lasted eight days.\nThen on a day there came in the court a squire on horseback, leading a\nknight before him wounded to the death, and told him how there was a\nknight in the forest had reared up a pavilion by a well, and hath slain\nmy master, a good knight, his name was Miles; wherefore I beseech you\nthat my master may be buried, and that some knight may revenge my\nmaster\u2019s death. Then the noise was great of that knight\u2019s death in the\ncourt, and every man said his advice. Then came Griflet that was but a\nsquire, and he was but young, of the age of the king Arthur, so he\nbesought the king for all his service that he had done him to give the\norder of knighthood.\nCHAPTER XXII. How Griflet was made knight, and jousted with a knight.\nThou art full young and tender of age, said Arthur, for to take so high\nan order on thee. Sir, said Griflet, I beseech you make me knight. Sir,\nsaid Merlin, it were great pity to lose Griflet, for he will be a\npassing good man when he is of age, abiding with you the term of his\nlife. And if he adventure his body with yonder knight at the fountain,\nit is in great peril if ever he come again, for he is one of the best\nknights of the world, and the strongest man of arms. Well, said Arthur.\nSo at the desire of Griflet the king made him knight. Now, said Arthur\nunto Sir Griflet, sith I have made you knight thou must give me a gift.\nWhat ye will, said Griflet. Thou shalt promise me by the faith of thy\nbody, when thou hast jousted with the knight at the fountain, whether\nit fall ye be on foot or on horseback, that right so ye shall come\nagain unto me without making any more debate. I will promise you, said\nGriflet, as you desire. Then took Griflet his horse in great haste, and\ndressed his shield and took a spear in his hand, and so he rode a great\nwallop till he came to the fountain, and thereby he saw a rich\npavilion, and thereby under a cloth stood a fair horse well saddled and\nbridled, and on a tree a shield of divers colours and a great spear.\nThen Griflet smote on the shield with the butt of his spear, that the\nshield fell down to the ground. With that the knight came out of the\npavilion, and said, Fair knight, why smote ye down my shield? For I\nwill joust with you, said Griflet. It is better ye do not, said the\nknight, for ye are but young, and late made knight, and your might is\nnothing to mine. As for that, said Griflet, I will joust with you. That\nis me loath, said the knight, but sith I must needs, I will dress me\nthereto. Of whence be ye? said the knight. Sir, I am of Arthur\u2019s court.\nSo the two knights ran together that Griflet\u2019s spear all to-shivered;\nand there withal he smote Griflet through the shield and the left side,\nand brake the spear that the truncheon stuck in his body, that horse\nand knight fell down.\nCHAPTER XXIII. How twelve knights came from Rome and asked truage for\nthis land of Arthur, and how Arthur fought with a knight.\nWhen the knight saw him lie so on the ground, he alighted, and was\npassing heavy, for he weened he had slain him, and then he unlaced his\nhelm and gat him wind, and so with the truncheon he set him on his\nhorse, and so betook him to God, and said he had a mighty heart, and if\nhe might live he would prove a passing good knight. And so Sir Griflet\nrode to the court, where great dole was made for him. But through good\nleeches he was healed and saved. Right so came into the court twelve\nknights, and were aged men, and they came from the Emperor of Rome, and\nthey asked of Arthur truage for this realm, other else the emperor\nwould destroy him and his land. Well, said King Arthur, ye are\nmessengers, therefore ye may say what ye will, other else ye should die\ntherefore. But this is mine answer: I owe the emperor no truage, nor\nnone will I hold him, but on a fair field I shall give him my truage\nthat shall be with a sharp spear, or else with a sharp sword, and that\nshall not be long, by my father\u2019s soul, Uther Pendragon. And therewith\nthe messengers departed passingly wroth, and King Arthur as wroth, for\nin evil time came they then; for the king was passingly wroth for the\nhurt of Sir Griflet. And so he commanded a privy man of his chamber\nthat or it be day his best horse and armour, with all that longeth unto\nhis person, be without the city or to-morrow day. Right so or to-morrow\nday he met with his man and his horse, and so mounted up and dressed\nhis shield and took his spear, and bade his chamberlain tarry there\ntill he came again. And so Arthur rode a soft pace till it was day, and\nthen was he ware of three churls chasing Merlin, and would have slain\nhim. Then the king rode unto them, and bade them: Flee, churls! then\nwere they afeard when they saw a knight, and fled. O Merlin, said\nArthur, here hadst thou been slain for all thy crafts had I not been.\nNay, said Merlin, not so, for I could save myself an I would; and thou\nart more near thy death than I am, for thou goest to the deathward, an\nGod be not thy friend.\nSo as they went thus talking they came to the fountain, and the rich\npavilion there by it. Then King Arthur was ware where sat a knight\narmed in a chair. Sir knight, said Arthur, for what cause abidest thou\nhere, that there may no knight ride this way but if he joust with thee?\nsaid the king. I rede thee leave that custom, said Arthur. This custom,\nsaid the knight, have I used and will use maugre who saith nay, and who\nis grieved with my custom let him amend it that will. I will amend it,\nsaid Arthur. I shall defend thee, said the knight. Anon he took his\nhorse and dressed his shield and took a spear, and they met so hard\neither in other\u2019s shields, that all to-shivered their spears. Therewith\nanon Arthur pulled out his sword. Nay, not so, said the knight; it is\nfairer, said the knight, that we twain run more together with sharp\nspears. I will well, said Arthur, an I had any more spears. I have\nenow, said the knight; so there came a squire and brought two good\nspears, and Arthur chose one and he another; so they spurred their\nhorses and came together with all their mights, that either brake their\nspears to their hands. Then Arthur set hand on his sword. Nay, said the\nknight, ye shall do better, ye are a passing good jouster as ever I met\nwithal, and once for the love of the high order of knighthood let us\njoust once again. I assent me, said Arthur. Anon there were brought two\ngreat spears, and every knight gat a spear, and therewith they ran\ntogether that Arthur\u2019s spear all to-shivered. But the other knight hit\nhim so hard in midst of the shield, that horse and man fell to the\nearth, and therewith Arthur was eager, and pulled out his sword, and\nsaid, I will assay thee, sir knight, on foot, for I have lost the\nhonour on horseback. I will be on horseback, said the knight. Then was\nArthur wroth, and dressed his shield toward him with his sword drawn.\nWhen the knight saw that, he alighted, for him thought no worship to\nhave a knight at such avail, he to be on horseback and he on foot, and\nso he alighted and dressed his shield unto Arthur. And there began a\nstrong battle with many great strokes, and so hewed with their swords\nthat the cantels flew in the fields, and much blood they bled both,\nthat all the place there as they fought was overbled with blood, and\nthus they fought long and rested them, and then they went to the battle\nagain, and so hurtled together like two rams that either fell to the\nearth. So at the last they smote together that both their swords met\neven together. But the sword of the knight smote King Arthur\u2019s sword in\ntwo pieces, wherefore he was heavy. Then said the knight unto Arthur,\nThou art in my daunger whether me list to save thee or slay thee, and\nbut thou yield thee as overcome and recreant, thou shalt die. As for\ndeath, said King Arthur, welcome be it when it cometh, but to yield me\nunto thee as recreant I had liefer die than to be so shamed. And\ntherewithal the king leapt unto Pellinore, and took him by the middle\nand threw him down, and raced off his helm. When the knight felt that\nhe was adread, for he was a passing big man of might, and anon he\nbrought Arthur under him, and raced off his helm and would have smitten\noff his head.\nCHAPTER XXIV. How Merlin saved Arthur\u2019s life, and threw an enchantment\non King Pellinore and made him to sleep.\nTherewithal came Merlin and said, Knight, hold thy hand, for an thou\nslay that knight thou puttest this realm in the greatest damage that\never was realm: for this knight is a man of more worship than thou\nwotest of. Why, who is he? said the knight. It is King Arthur. Then\nwould he have slain him for dread of his wrath, and heaved up his\nsword, and therewith Merlin cast an enchantment to the knight, that he\nfell to the earth in a great sleep. Then Merlin took up King Arthur,\nand rode forth on the knight\u2019s horse. Alas! said Arthur, what hast thou\ndone, Merlin? hast thou slain this good knight by thy crafts? There\nliveth not so worshipful a knight as he was; I had liefer than the\nstint of my land a year that he were alive. Care ye not, said Merlin,\nfor he is wholer than ye; for he is but asleep, and will awake within\nthree hours. I told you, said Merlin, what a knight he was; here had ye\nbeen slain had I not been. Also there liveth not a bigger knight than\nhe is one, and he shall hereafter do you right good service; and his\nname is Pellinore, and he shall have two sons that shall be passing\ngood men; save one they shall have no fellow of prowess and of good\nliving, and their names shall be Percivale of Wales and Lamerake of\nWales, and he shall tell you the name of your own son, begotten of your\nsister, that shall be the destruction of all this realm.\nCHAPTER XXV. How Arthur by the mean of Merlin gat Excalibur his sword\nof the Lady of the Lake.\nRight so the king and he departed, and went unto an hermit that was a\ngood man and a great leech. So the hermit searched all his wounds and\ngave him good salves; so the king was there three days, and then were\nhis wounds well amended that he might ride and go, and so departed. And\nas they rode, Arthur said, I have no sword. No force, said Merlin,\nhereby is a sword that shall be yours, an I may. So they rode till they\ncame to a lake, the which was a fair water and broad, and in the midst\nof the lake Arthur was ware of an arm clothed in white samite, that\nheld a fair sword in that hand. Lo! said Merlin, yonder is that sword\nthat I spake of. With that they saw a damosel going upon the lake. What\ndamosel is that? said Arthur. That is the Lady of the Lake, said\nMerlin; and within that lake is a rock, and therein is as fair a place\nas any on earth, and richly beseen; and this damosel will come to you\nanon, and then speak ye fair to her that she will give you that sword.\nAnon withal came the damosel unto Arthur, and saluted him, and he her\nagain. Damosel, said Arthur, what sword is that, that yonder the arm\nholdeth above the water? I would it were mine, for I have no sword. Sir\nArthur, king, said the damosel, that sword is mine, and if ye will give\nme a gift when I ask it you, ye shall have it. By my faith, said\nArthur, I will give you what gift ye will ask. Well! said the damosel,\ngo ye into yonder barge, and row yourself to the sword, and take it and\nthe scabbard with you, and I will ask my gift when I see my time. So\nSir Arthur and Merlin alighted and tied their horses to two trees, and\nso they went into the ship, and when they came to the sword that the\nhand held, Sir Arthur took it up by the handles, and took it with him,\nand the arm and the hand went under the water. And so [they] came unto\nthe land and rode forth, and then Sir Arthur saw a rich pavilion. What\nsignifieth yonder pavilion? It is the knight\u2019s pavilion, said Merlin,\nthat ye fought with last, Sir Pellinore; but he is out, he is not\nthere. He hath ado with a knight of yours that hight Egglame, and they\nhave foughten together, but at the last Egglame fled, and else he had\nbeen dead, and he hath chased him even to Carlion, and we shall meet\nwith him anon in the highway. That is well said, said Arthur, now have\nI a sword, now will I wage battle with him, and be avenged on him. Sir,\nyou shall not so, said Merlin, for the knight is weary of fighting and\nchasing, so that ye shall have no worship to have ado with him; also he\nwill not be lightly matched of one knight living, and therefore it is\nmy counsel, let him pass, for he shall do you good service in short\ntime, and his sons after his days. Also ye shall see that day in short\nspace, you shall be right glad to give him your sister to wed. When I\nsee him, I will do as ye advise, said Arthur.\nThen Sir Arthur looked on the sword, and liked it passing well. Whether\nliketh you better, said Merlin, the sword or the scabbard? Me liketh\nbetter the sword, said Arthur. Ye are more unwise, said Merlin, for the\nscabbard is worth ten of the swords, for whiles ye have the scabbard\nupon you, ye shall never lose no blood, be ye never so sore wounded;\ntherefore keep well the scabbard always with you. So they rode unto\nCarlion, and by the way they met with Sir Pellinore; but Merlin had\ndone such a craft, that Pellinore saw not Arthur, and he passed by\nwithout any words. I marvel, said Arthur, that the knight would not\nspeak. Sir, said Merlin, he saw you not, for an he had seen you, ye had\nnot lightly departed. So they came unto Carlion, whereof his knights\nwere passing glad. And when they heard of his adventures, they\nmarvelled that he would jeopard his person so, alone. But all men of\nworship said it was merry to be under such a chieftain, that would put\nhis person in adventure as other poor knights did.\nCHAPTER XXVI. How tidings came to Arthur that King Rience had overcome\neleven kings, and how he desired Arthur\u2019s beard to trim his mantle.\nThis meanwhile came a messenger from King Rience of North Wales, and\nking he was of all Ireland, and of many isles. And this was his\nmessage, greeting well King Arthur in this manner wise, saying that\nKing Rience had discomfited and overcome eleven kings, and everych of\nthem did him homage, and that was this, they gave him their beards\nclean flayed off, as much as there was; wherefore the messenger came\nfor King Arthur\u2019s beard. For King Rience had purfled a mantle with\nkings\u2019 beards, and there lacked one place of the mantle; wherefore he\nsent for his beard, or else he would enter into his lands, and burn and\nslay, and never leave till he have the head and the beard. Well, said\nArthur, thou hast said thy message, the which is the most villainous\nand lewdest message that ever man heard sent unto a king; also thou\nmayest see my beard is full young yet to make a purfle of it. But tell\nthou thy king this: I owe him none homage, nor none of mine elders; but\nor it be long to, he shall do me homage on both his knees, or else he\nshall lose his head, by the faith of my body, for this is the most\nshamefulest message that ever I heard speak of. I have espied thy king\nmet never yet with worshipful man, but tell him, I will have his head\nwithout he do me homage. Then the messenger departed.\nNow is there any here, said Arthur, that knoweth King Rience? Then\nanswered a knight that hight Naram, Sir, I know the king well; he is a\npassing good man of his body, as few be living, and a passing proud\nman, and Sir, doubt ye not he will make war on you with a mighty\npuissance. Well, said Arthur, I shall ordain for him in short time.\nCHAPTER XXVII. How all the children were sent for that were born on\nMay-day, and how Mordred was saved.\nThen King Arthur let send for all the children born on May-day,\nbegotten of lords and born of ladies; for Merlin told King Arthur that\nhe that should destroy him should be born on May-day, wherefore he sent\nfor them all, upon pain of death; and so there were found many lords\u2019\nsons, and all were sent unto the king, and so was Mordred sent by King\nLot\u2019s wife, and all were put in a ship to the sea, and some were four\nweeks old, and some less. And so by fortune the ship drave unto a\ncastle, and was all to-riven, and destroyed the most part, save that\nMordred was cast up, and a good man found him, and nourished him till\nhe was fourteen year old, and then he brought him to the court, as it\nrehearseth afterward, toward the end of the Death of Arthur. So many\nlords and barons of this realm were displeased, for their children were\nso lost, and many put the wite on Merlin more than on Arthur; so what\nfor dread and for love, they held their peace. But when the messenger\ncame to King Rience, then was he wood out of measure, and purveyed him\nfor a great host, as it rehearseth after in the book of Balin le\nSavage, that followeth next after, how by adventure Balin gat the\nsword.\nExplicit liber primus.\nBOOK II.\nCHAPTER I. Of a damosel which came girt with a sword for to find a man\nof such virtue to draw it out of the scabbard.\nAfter the death of Uther Pendragon reigned Arthur his son, the which\nhad great war in his days for to get all England into his hand. For\nthere were many kings within the realm of England, and in Wales,\nScotland, and Cornwall. So it befell on a time when King Arthur was at\nLondon, there came a knight and told the king tidings how that the King\nRience of North Wales had reared a great number of people, and were\nentered into the land, and burnt and slew the king\u2019s true liege people.\nIf this be true, said Arthur, it were great shame unto mine estate but\nthat he were mightily withstood. It is truth, said the knight, for I\nsaw the host myself. Well, said the king, let make a cry, that all the\nlords, knights, and gentlemen of arms, should draw unto a castle called\nCamelot in those days, and there the king would let make a\ncouncil-general and a great jousts.\nSo when the king was come thither with all his baronage, and lodged as\nthey seemed best, there was come a damosel the which was sent on\nmessage from the great lady Lile of Avelion. And when she came before\nKing Arthur, she told from whom she came, and how she was sent on\nmessage unto him for these causes. Then she let her mantle fall that\nwas richly furred; and then was she girt with a noble sword whereof the\nking had marvel, and said, Damosel, for what cause are ye girt with\nthat sword? it beseemeth you not. Now shall I tell you, said the\ndamosel; this sword that I am girt withal doth me great sorrow and\ncumbrance, for I may not be delivered of this sword but by a knight,\nbut he must be a passing good man of his hands and of his deeds, and\nwithout villainy or treachery, and without treason. And if I may find\nsuch a knight that hath all these virtues, he may draw out this sword\nout of the sheath, for I have been at King Rience\u2019s it was told me\nthere were passing good knights, and he and all his knights have\nassayed it and none can speed. This is a great marvel, said Arthur, if\nthis be sooth; I will myself assay to draw out the sword, not presuming\nupon myself that I am the best knight, but that I will begin to draw at\nyour sword in giving example to all the barons that they shall assay\neverych one after other when I have assayed it. Then Arthur took the\nsword by the sheath and by the girdle and pulled at it eagerly, but the\nsword would not out.\nSir, said the damosel, you need not to pull half so hard, for he that\nshall pull it out shall do it with little might. Ye say well, said\nArthur; now assay ye all my barons; but beware ye be not defiled with\nshame, treachery, nor guile. Then it will not avail, said the damosel,\nfor he must be a clean knight without villainy, and of a gentle strain\nof father side and mother side. Most of all the barons of the Round\nTable that were there at that time assayed all by row, but there might\nnone speed; wherefore the damosel made great sorrow out of measure, and\nsaid, Alas! I weened in this court had been the best knights without\ntreachery or treason. By my faith, said Arthur, here are good knights,\nas I deem, as any be in the world, but their grace is not to help you,\nwherefore I am displeased.\nCHAPTER II. How Balin, arrayed like a poor knight, pulled out the\nsword, which afterward was the cause of his death.\nThen fell it so that time there was a poor knight with King Arthur,\nthat had been prisoner with him half a year and more for slaying of a\nknight, the which was cousin unto King Arthur. The name of this knight\nwas called Balin, and by good means of the barons he was delivered out\nof prison, for he was a good man named of his body, and he was born in\nNorthumberland. And so he went privily into the court, and saw this\nadventure, whereof it raised his heart, and he would assay it as other\nknights did, but for he was poor and poorly arrayed he put him not far\nin press. But in his heart he was fully assured to do as well, if his\ngrace happed him, as any knight that there was. And as the damosel took\nher leave of Arthur and of all the barons, so departing, this knight\nBalin called unto her, and said, Damosel, I pray you of your courtesy,\nsuffer me as well to assay as these lords; though that I be so poorly\nclothed, in my heart meseemeth I am fully assured as some of these\nothers, and meseemeth in my heart to speed right well. The damosel\nbeheld the poor knight, and saw he was a likely man, but for his poor\narrayment she thought he should be of no worship without villainy or\ntreachery. And then she said unto the knight, Sir, it needeth not to\nput me to more pain or labour, for it seemeth not you to speed there as\nother have failed. Ah! fair damosel, said Balin, worthiness, and good\ntatches, and good deeds, are not only in arrayment, but manhood and\nworship is hid within man\u2019s person, and many a worshipful knight is not\nknown unto all people, and therefore worship and hardiness is not in\narrayment. By God, said the damosel, ye say sooth; therefore ye shall\nassay to do what ye may. Then Balin took the sword by the girdle and\nsheath, and drew it out easily; and when he looked on the sword it\npleased him much. Then had the king and all the barons great marvel\nthat Balin had done that adventure, and many knights had great despite\nof Balin. Certes, said the damosel, this is a passing good knight, and\nthe best that ever I found, and most of worship without treason,\ntreachery, or villainy, and many marvels shall he do. Now, gentle and\ncourteous knight, give me the sword again. Nay, said Balin, for this\nsword will I keep, but it be taken from me with force. Well, said the\ndamosel, ye are not wise to keep the sword from me, for ye shall slay\nwith the sword the best friend that ye have, and the man that ye most\nlove in the world, and the sword shall be your destruction. I shall\ntake the adventure, said Balin, that God will ordain me, but the sword\nye shall not have at this time, by the faith of my body. Ye shall\nrepent it within short time, said the damosel, for I would have the\nsword more for your avail than for mine, for I am passing heavy for\nyour sake; for ye will not believe that sword shall be your\ndestruction, and that is great pity. With that the damosel departed,\nmaking great sorrow.\nAnon after, Balin sent for his horse and armour, and so would depart\nfrom the court, and took his leave of King Arthur. Nay, said the king,\nI suppose ye will not depart so lightly from this fellowship, I suppose\nye are displeased that I have shewed you unkindness; blame me the less,\nfor I was misinformed against you, but I weened ye had not been such a\nknight as ye are, of worship and prowess, and if ye will abide in this\ncourt among my fellowship, I shall so advance you as ye shall be\npleased. God thank your highness, said Balin, your bounty and highness\nmay no man praise half to the value; but at this time I must needs\ndepart, beseeching you alway of your good grace. Truly, said the king,\nI am right wroth for your departing; I pray you, fair knight, that ye\ntarry not long, and ye shall be right welcome to me, and to my barons,\nand I shall amend all miss that I have done against you; God thank your\ngreat lordship, said Balin, and therewith made him ready to depart.\nThen the most part of the knights of the Round Table said that Balin\ndid not this adventure all only by might, but by witchcraft.\nCHAPTER III. How the Lady of the Lake demanded the knight\u2019s head that\nhad won the sword, or the maiden\u2019s head.\nThe meanwhile, that this knight was making him ready to depart, there\ncame into the court a lady that hight the Lady of the Lake. And she\ncame on horseback, richly beseen, and saluted King Arthur, and there\nasked him a gift that he promised her when she gave him the sword. That\nis sooth, said Arthur, a gift I promised you, but I have forgotten the\nname of my sword that ye gave me. The name of it, said the lady, is\nExcalibur, that is as much to say as Cut-steel. Ye say well, said the\nking; ask what ye will and ye shall have it, an it lie in my power to\ngive it. Well, said the lady, I ask the head of the knight that hath\nwon the sword, or else the damosel\u2019s head that brought it; I take no\nforce though I have both their heads, for he slew my brother, a good\nknight and a true, and that gentlewoman was causer of my father\u2019s\ndeath. Truly, said King Arthur, I may not grant neither of their heads\nwith my worship, therefore ask what ye will else, and I shall fulfil\nyour desire. I will ask none other thing, said the lady. When Balin was\nready to depart, he saw the Lady of the Lake, that by her means had\nslain Balin\u2019s mother, and he had sought her three years; and when it\nwas told him that she asked his head of King Arthur, he went to her\nstraight and said, Evil be you found; ye would have my head, and\ntherefore ye shall lose yours, and with his sword lightly he smote off\nher head before King Arthur. Alas, for shame! said Arthur, why have ye\ndone so? ye have shamed me and all my court, for this was a lady that I\nwas beholden to, and hither she came under my safe-conduct; I shall\nnever forgive you that trespass. Sir, said Balin, me forthinketh of\nyour displeasure, for this same lady was the untruest lady living, and\nby enchantment and sorcery she hath been the destroyer of many good\nknights, and she was causer that my mother was burnt, through her\nfalsehood and treachery. What cause soever ye had, said Arthur, ye\nshould have forborne her in my presence; therefore, think not the\ncontrary, ye shall repent it, for such another despite had I never in\nmy court; therefore withdraw you out of my court in all haste ye may.\nThen Balin took up the head of the lady, and bare it with him to his\nhostelry, and there he met with his squire, that was sorry he had\ndispleased King Arthur and so they rode forth out of the town. Now,\nsaid Balin, we must depart, take thou this head and bear it to my\nfriends, and tell them how I have sped, and tell my friends in\nNorthumberland that my most foe is dead. Also tell them how I am out of\nprison, and what adventure befell me at the getting of this sword.\nAlas! said the squire, ye are greatly to blame for to displease King\nArthur. As for that, said Balin, I will hie me, in all the haste that I\nmay, to meet with King Rience and destroy him, either else to die\ntherefore; and if it may hap me to win him, then will King Arthur be my\ngood and gracious lord. Where shall I meet with you? said the squire.\nIn King Arthur\u2019s court, said Balin. So his squire and he departed at\nthat time. Then King Arthur and all the court made great dole and had\nshame of the death of the Lady of the Lake. Then the king buried her\nrichly.\nCHAPTER IV. How Merlin told the adventure of this damosel.\nAt that time there was a knight, the which was the king\u2019s son of\nIreland, and his name was Lanceor, the which was an orgulous knight,\nand counted himself one of the best of the court; and he had great\ndespite at Balin for the achieving of the sword, that any should be\naccounted more hardy, or more of prowess; and he asked King Arthur if\nhe would give him leave to ride after Balin and to revenge the despite\nthat he had done. Do your best, said Arthur, I am right wroth with\nBalin; I would he were quit of the despite that he hath done to me and\nto my court. Then this Lanceor went to his hostelry to make him ready.\nIn the meanwhile came Merlin unto the court of King Arthur, and there\nwas told him the adventure of the sword, and the death of the Lady of\nthe Lake. Now shall I say you, said Merlin; this same damosel that here\nstandeth, that brought the sword unto your court, I shall tell you the\ncause of her coming: she was the falsest damosel that liveth. Say not\nso, said they. She hath a brother, a passing good knight of prowess and\na full true man; and this damosel loved another knight that held her to\nparamour, and this good knight her brother met with the knight that\nheld her to paramour, and slew him by force of his hands. When this\nfalse damosel understood this, she went to the Lady Lile of Avelion,\nand besought her of help, to be avenged on her own brother.\nCHAPTER V. How Balin was pursued by Sir Lanceor, knight of Ireland, and\nhow he jousted and slew him.\nAnd so this Lady Lile of Avelion took her this sword that she brought\nwith her, and told there should no man pull it out of the sheath but if\nhe be one of the best knights of this realm, and he should be hard and\nfull of prowess, and with that sword he should slay her brother. This\nwas the cause that the damosel came into this court. I know it as well\nas ye. Would God she had not come into this court, but she came never\nin fellowship of worship to do good, but always great harm; and that\nknight that hath achieved the sword shall be destroyed by that sword,\nfor the which will be great damage, for there liveth not a knight of\nmore prowess than he is, and he shall do unto you, my Lord Arthur,\ngreat honour and kindness; and it is great pity he shall not endure but\na while, for of his strength and hardiness I know not his match living.\nSo the knight of Ireland armed him at all points, and dressed his\nshield on his shoulder, and mounted upon horseback, and took his spear\nin his hand, and rode after a great pace, as much as his horse might\ngo; and within a little space on a mountain he had a sight of Balin,\nand with a loud voice he cried, Abide, knight, for ye shall abide\nwhether ye will or nill, and the shield that is to-fore you shall not\nhelp. When Balin heard the noise, he turned his horse fiercely, and\nsaid, Fair knight, what will ye with me, will ye joust with me? Yea,\nsaid the Irish knight, therefore come I after you. Peradventure, said\nBalin, it had been better to have holden you at home, for many a man\nweeneth to put his enemy to a rebuke, and oft it falleth to himself. Of\nwhat court be ye sent from? said Balin. I am come from the court of\nKing Arthur, said the knight of Ireland, that come hither for to\nrevenge the despite ye did this day to King Arthur and to his court.\nWell, said Balin, I see well I must have ado with you, that me\nforthinketh for to grieve King Arthur, or any of his court; and your\nquarrel is full simple, said Balin, unto me, for the lady that is dead,\ndid me great damage, and else would I have been loath as any knight\nthat liveth for to slay a lady. Make you ready, said the knight\nLanceor, and dress you unto me, for that one shall abide in the field.\nThen they took their spears, and came together as much as their horses\nmight drive, and the Irish knight smote Balin on the shield, that all\nwent shivers off his spear, and Balin hit him through the shield, and\nthe hauberk perished, and so pierced through his body and the horse\u2019s\ncroup, and anon turned his horse fiercely, and drew out his sword, and\nwist not that he had slain him; and then he saw him lie as a dead\ncorpse.\nCHAPTER VI. How a damosel, which was love to Lanceor, slew herself for\nlove, and how Balin met with his brother Balan.\nThen he looked by him, and was ware of a damosel that came riding full\nfast as the horse might ride, on a fair palfrey. And when she espied\nthat Lanceor was slain, she made sorrow out of measure, and said, O\nBalin, two bodies thou hast slain and one heart, and two hearts in one\nbody, and two souls thou hast lost. And therewith she took the sword\nfrom her love that lay dead, and fell to the ground in a swoon. And\nwhen she arose she made great dole out of measure, the which sorrow\ngrieved Balin passingly sore, and he went unto her for to have taken\nthe sword out of her hand, but she held it so fast he might not take it\nout of her hand unless he should have hurt her, and suddenly she set\nthe pommel to the ground, and rove herself through the body. When Balin\nespied her deeds, he was passing heavy in his heart, and ashamed that\nso fair a damosel had destroyed herself for the love of his death.\nAlas, said Balin, me repenteth sore the death of this knight, for the\nlove of this damosel, for there was much true love betwixt them both,\nand for sorrow might not longer behold him, but turned his horse and\nlooked toward a great forest, and there he was ware, by the arms, of\nhis brother Balan. And when they were met they put off their helms and\nkissed together, and wept for joy and pity. Then Balan said, I little\nweened to have met with you at this sudden adventure; I am right glad\nof your deliverance out of your dolorous prisonment, for a man told me,\nin the castle of Four Stones, that ye were delivered, and that man had\nseen you in the court of King Arthur, and therefore I came hither into\nthis country, for here I supposed to find you. Anon the knight Balin\ntold his brother of his adventure of the sword, and of the death of the\nLady of the Lake, and how King Arthur was displeased with him.\nWherefore he sent this knight after me, that lieth here dead, and the\ndeath of this damosel grieveth me sore. So doth it me, said Balan, but\nye must take the adventure that God will ordain you. Truly, said Balin,\nI am right heavy that my Lord Arthur is displeased with me, for he is\nthe most worshipful knight that reigneth now on earth, and his love\nwill I get or else will I put my life in adventure. For the King Rience\nlieth at a siege at the Castle Terrabil, and thither will we draw in\nall haste, to prove our worship and prowess upon him. I will well, said\nBalan, that we do, and we will help each other as brethren ought to do.\nCHAPTER VII. How a dwarf reproved Balin for the death of Lanceor, and\nhow King Mark of Cornwall found them, and made a tomb over them.\nNow go we hence, said Balin, and well be we met. The meanwhile as they\ntalked, there came a dwarf from the city of Camelot on horseback, as\nmuch as he might; and found the dead bodies, wherefore he made great\ndole, and pulled out his hair for sorrow, and said, Which of you\nknights have done this deed? Whereby askest thou it? said Balan. For I\nwould wit it, said the dwarf. It was I, said Balin, that slew this\nknight in my defence, for hither he came to chase me, and either I must\nslay him or he me; and this damosel slew herself for his love, which\nrepenteth me, and for her sake I shall owe all women the better love.\nAlas, said the dwarf, thou hast done great damage unto thyself, for\nthis knight that is here dead was one of the most valiantest men that\nlived, and trust well, Balin, the kin of this knight will chase you\nthrough the world till they have slain you. As for that, said Balin, I\nfear not greatly, but I am right heavy that I have displeased my lord\nKing Arthur, for the death of this knight. So as they talked together,\nthere came a king of Cornwall riding, the which hight King Mark. And\nwhen he saw these two bodies dead, and understood how they were dead,\nby the two knights above said, then made the king great sorrow for the\ntrue love that was betwixt them, and said, I will not depart till I\nhave on this earth made a tomb, and there he pight his pavilions and\nsought through all the country to find a tomb, and in a church they\nfound one was fair and rich, and then the king let put them both in the\nearth, and put the tomb upon them, and wrote the names of them both on\nthe tomb. How here lieth Lanceor the king\u2019s son of Ireland, that at his\nown request was slain by the hands of Balin; and how his lady, Colombe,\nand paramour, slew herself with her love\u2019s sword for dole and sorrow.\nCHAPTER VIII. How Merlin prophesied that two the best knights of the\nworld should fight there, which were Sir Lancelot and Sir Tristram.\nThe meanwhile as this was a-doing, in came Merlin to King Mark, and\nseeing all his doing, said, Here shall be in this same place the\ngreatest battle betwixt two knights that was or ever shall be, and the\ntruest lovers, and yet none of them shall slay other. And there Merlin\nwrote their names upon the tomb with letters of gold that should fight\nin that place, whose names were Launcelot de Lake, and Tristram. Thou\nart a marvellous man, said King Mark unto Merlin, that speakest of such\nmarvels, thou art a boistous man and an unlikely to tell of such deeds.\nWhat is thy name? said King Mark. At this time, said Merlin, I will not\ntell, but at that time when Sir Tristram is taken with his sovereign\nlady, then ye shall hear and know my name, and at that time ye shall\nhear tidings that shall not please you. Then said Merlin to Balin, Thou\nhast done thyself great hurt, because that thou savest not this lady\nthat slew herself, that might have saved her an thou wouldest. By the\nfaith of my body, said Balin, I might not save her, for she slew\nherself suddenly. Me repenteth, said Merlin; because of the death of\nthat lady thou shalt strike a stroke most dolorous that ever man\nstruck, except the stroke of our Lord, for thou shalt hurt the truest\nknight and the man of most worship that now liveth, and through that\nstroke three kingdoms shall be in great poverty, misery and\nwretchedness twelve years, and the knight shall not be whole of that\nwound for many years. Then Merlin took his leave of Balin. And Balin\nsaid, If I wist it were sooth that ye say I should do such a perilous\ndeed as that, I would slay myself to make thee a liar. Therewith Merlin\nvanished away suddenly. And then Balan and his brother took their leave\nof King Mark. First, said the king, tell me your name. Sir, said Balan,\nye may see he beareth two swords, thereby ye may call him the Knight\nwith the Two Swords. And so departed King Mark unto Camelot to King\nArthur, and Balin took the way toward King Rience; and as they rode\ntogether they met with Merlin disguised, but they knew him not. Whither\nride you? said Merlin. We have little to do, said the two knights, to\ntell thee. But what is thy name? said Balin. At this time, said Merlin,\nI will not tell it thee. It is evil seen, said the knights, that thou\nart a true man that thou wilt not tell thy name. As for that, said\nMerlin, be it as it be may, I can tell you wherefore ye ride this way,\nfor to meet King Rience; but it will not avail you without ye have my\ncounsel. Ah! said Balin, ye are Merlin; we will be ruled by your\ncounsel. Come on, said Merlin, ye shall have great worship, and look\nthat ye do knightly, for ye shall have great need. As for that, said\nBalin, dread you not, we will do what we may.\nCHAPTER IX. How Balin and his brother, by the counsel of Merlin, took\nKing Rience and brought him to King Arthur.\nThen Merlin lodged them in a wood among leaves beside the highway, and\ntook off the bridles of their horses and put them to grass and laid\nthem down to rest them till it was nigh midnight. Then Merlin bade them\nrise, and make them ready, for the king was nigh them, that was stolen\naway from his host with a three score horses of his best knights, and\ntwenty of them rode to-fore to warn the Lady de Vance that the king was\ncoming; for that night King Rience should have lain with her. Which is\nthe king? said Balin. Abide, said Merlin, here in a strait way ye shall\nmeet with him; and therewith he showed Balin and his brother where he\nrode.\nAnon Balin and his brother met with the king, and smote him down, and\nwounded him fiercely, and laid him to the ground; and there they slew\non the right hand and the left hand, and slew more than forty of his\nmen, and the remnant fled. Then went they again to King Rience and\nwould have slain him had he not yielded him unto their grace. Then said\nhe thus: Knights full of prowess, slay me not, for by my life ye may\nwin, and by my death ye shall win nothing. Then said these two knights,\nYe say sooth and truth, and so laid him on a horse-litter. With that\nMerlin was vanished, and came to King Arthur aforehand, and told him\nhow his most enemy was taken and discomfited. By whom? said King\nArthur. By two knights, said Merlin, that would please your lordship,\nand to-morrow ye shall know what knights they are. Anon after came the\nKnight with the Two Swords and Balan his brother, and brought with them\nKing Rience of North Wales, and there delivered him to the porters, and\ncharged them with him; and so they two returned again in the dawning of\nthe day. King Arthur came then to King Rience, and said, Sir king, ye\nare welcome: by what adventure come ye hither? Sir, said King Rience, I\ncame hither by an hard adventure. Who won you? said King Arthur. Sir,\nsaid the king, the Knight with the Two Swords and his brother, which\nare two marvellous knights of prowess. I know them not, said Arthur,\nbut much I am beholden to them. Ah, said Merlin, I shall tell you: it\nis Balin that achieved the sword, and his brother Balan, a good knight,\nthere liveth not a better of prowess and of worthiness, and it shall be\nthe greatest dole of him that ever I knew of knight, for he shall not\nlong endure. Alas, said King Arthur, that is great pity; for I am much\nbeholden unto him, and I have ill deserved it unto him for his\nkindness. Nay, said Merlin, he shall do much more for you, and that\nshall ye know in haste. But, sir, are ye purveyed, said Merlin, for\nto-morn the host of Nero, King Rience\u2019s brother, will set on you or\nnoon with a great host, and therefore make you ready, for I will depart\nfrom you.\nCHAPTER X. How King Arthur had a battle against Nero and King Lot of\nOrkney, and how King Lot was deceived by Merlin, and how twelve kings\nwere slain.\nThen King Arthur made ready his host in ten battles and Nero was ready\nin the field afore the Castle Terrabil with a great host, and he had\nten battles, with many more people than Arthur had. Then Nero had the\nvanguard with the most part of his people, and Merlin came to King Lot\nof the Isle of Orkney, and held him with a tale of prophecy, till Nero\nand his people were destroyed. And there Sir Kay the seneschal did\npassingly well, that the days of his life the worship went never from\nhim; and Sir Hervis de Revel did marvellous deeds with King Arthur, and\nKing Arthur slew that day twenty knights and maimed forty. At that time\ncame in the Knight with the Two Swords and his brother Balan, but they\ntwo did so marvellously that the king and all the knights marvelled of\nthem, and all they that beheld them said they were sent from heaven as\nangels, or devils from hell; and King Arthur said himself they were the\nbest knights that ever he saw, for they gave such strokes that all men\nhad wonder of them.\nIn the meanwhile came one to King Lot, and told him while he tarried\nthere Nero was destroyed and slain with all his people. Alas, said King\nLot, I am ashamed, for by my default there is many a worshipful man\nslain, for an we had been together there had been none host under the\nheaven that had been able for to have matched with us; this faiter with\nhis prophecy hath mocked me. All that did Merlin, for he knew well that\nan King Lot had been with his body there at the first battle, King\nArthur had been slain, and all his people destroyed; and well Merlin\nknew that one of the kings should be dead that day, and loath was\nMerlin that any of them both should be slain; but of the twain, he had\nliefer King Lot had been slain than King Arthur. Now what is best to\ndo? said King Lot of Orkney; whether is me better to treat with King\nArthur or to fight, for the greater part of our people are slain and\ndestroyed? Sir, said a knight, set on Arthur for they are weary and\nforfoughten and we be fresh. As for me, said King Lot, I would every\nknight would do his part as I would do mine. And then they advanced\nbanners and smote together and all to-shivered their spears; and\nArthur\u2019s knights, with the help of the Knight with the Two Swords and\nhis brother Balan put King Lot and his host to the worse. But always\nKing Lot held him in the foremost front, and did marvellous deeds of\narms, for all his host was borne up by his hands, for he abode all\nknights. Alas he might not endure, the which was great pity, that so\nworthy a knight as he was one should be overmatched, that of late time\nafore had been a knight of King Arthur\u2019s, and wedded the sister of King\nArthur; and for King Arthur lay by King Lot\u2019s wife, the which was\nArthur\u2019s sister, and gat on her Mordred, therefore King Lot held\nagainst Arthur. So there was a knight that was called the Knight with\nthe Strange Beast, and at that time his right name was called\nPellinore, the which was a good man of prowess, and he smote a mighty\nstroke at King Lot as he fought with all his enemies, and he failed of\nhis stroke, and smote the horse\u2019s neck, that he fell to the ground with\nKing Lot. And therewith anon Pellinore smote him a great stroke through\nthe helm and head unto the brows. And then all the host of Orkney fled\nfor the death of King Lot, and there were slain many mothers\u2019 sons. But\nKing Pellinore bare the wite of the death of King Lot, wherefore Sir\nGawaine revenged the death of his father the tenth year after he was\nmade knight, and slew King Pellinore with his own hands. Also there\nwere slain at that battle twelve kings on the side of King Lot with\nNero, and all were buried in the Church of Saint Stephen\u2019s in Camelot,\nand the remnant of knights and of others were buried in a great rock.\nCHAPTER XI. Of the interment of twelve kings, and of the prophecy of\nMerlin, and how Balin should give the dolorous stroke.\nSo at the interment came King Lot\u2019s wife Margawse with her four sons,\nGawaine, Agravaine, Gaheris, and Gareth. Also there came thither King\nUriens, Sir Ewaine\u2019s father, and Morgan le Fay his wife that was King\nArthur\u2019s sister. All these came to the interment. But of all these\ntwelve kings King Arthur let make the tomb of King Lot passing richly,\nand made his tomb by his own; and then Arthur let make twelve images of\nlatten and copper, and over-gilt it with gold, in the sign of twelve\nkings, and each one of them held a taper of wax that burnt day and\nnight; and King Arthur was made in sign of a figure standing above them\nwith a sword drawn in his hand, and all the twelve figures had\ncountenance like unto men that were overcome. All this made Merlin by\nhis subtle craft, and there he told the king, When I am dead these\ntapers shall burn no longer, and soon after the adventures of the\nSangreal shall come among you and be achieved. Also he told Arthur how\nBalin the worshipful knight shall give the dolorous stroke, whereof\nshall fall great vengeance. Oh, where is Balin and Balan and Pellinore?\nsaid King Arthur. As for Pellinore, said Merlin, he will meet with you\nsoon; and as for Balin he will not be long from you; but the other\nbrother will depart, ye shall see him no more. By my faith, said\nArthur, they are two marvellous knights, and namely Balin passeth of\nprowess of any knight that ever I found, for much beholden am I unto\nhim; would God he would abide with me. Sir, said Merlin, look ye keep\nwell the scabbard of Excalibur, for ye shall lose no blood while ye\nhave the scabbard upon you, though ye have as many wounds upon you as\nye may have. So after, for great trust, Arthur betook the scabbard to\nMorgan le Fay his sister, and she loved another knight better than her\nhusband King Uriens or King Arthur, and she would have had Arthur her\nbrother slain, and therefore she let make another scabbard like it by\nenchantment, and gave the scabbard Excalibur to her love; and the\nknight\u2019s name was called Accolon, that after had near slain King\nArthur. After this Merlin told unto King Arthur of the prophecy that\nthere should be a great battle beside Salisbury, and Mordred his own\nson should be against him. Also he told him that Bagdemegus was his\ncousin, and germain unto King Uriens.\nCHAPTER XII. How a sorrowful knight came before Arthur, and how Balin\nfetched him, and how that knight was slain by a knight invisible.\nWithin a day or two King Arthur was somewhat sick, and he let pitch his\npavilion in a meadow, and there he laid him down on a pallet to sleep,\nbut he might have no rest. Right so he heard a great noise of an horse,\nand therewith the king looked out at the porch of the pavilion, and saw\na knight coming even by him, making great dole. Abide, fair sir, said\nArthur, and tell me wherefore thou makest this sorrow. Ye may little\namend me, said the knight, and so passed forth to the castle of Meliot.\nAnon after there came Balin, and when he saw King Arthur he alighted\noff his horse, and came to the King on foot, and saluted him. By my\nhead, said Arthur, ye be welcome. Sir, right now came riding this way a\nknight making great mourn, for what cause I cannot tell; wherefore I\nwould desire of you of your courtesy and of your gentleness to fetch\nagain that knight either by force or else by his good will. I will do\nmore for your lordship than that, said Balin; and so he rode more than\na pace, and found the knight with a damosel in a forest, and said, Sir\nknight, ye must come with me unto King Arthur, for to tell him of your\nsorrow. That will I not, said the knight, for it will scathe me\ngreatly, and do you none avail. Sir, said Balin, I pray you make you\nready, for ye must go with me, or else I must fight with you and bring\nyou by force, and that were me loath to do. Will ye be my warrant, said\nthe knight, an I go with you? Yea, said Balin, or else I will die\ntherefore. And so he made him ready to go with Balin, and left the\ndamosel still. And as they were even afore King Arthur\u2019s pavilion,\nthere came one invisible, and smote this knight that went with Balin\nthroughout the body with a spear. Alas, said the knight, I am slain\nunder your conduct with a knight called Garlon; therefore take my horse\nthat is better than yours, and ride to the damosel, and follow the\nquest that I was in as she will lead you, and revenge my death when ye\nmay. That shall I do, said Balin, and that I make vow unto knighthood;\nand so he departed from this knight with great sorrow. So King Arthur\nlet bury this knight richly, and made a mention on his tomb, how there\nwas slain Herlews le Berbeus, and by whom the treachery was done, the\nknight Garlon. But ever the damosel bare the truncheon of the spear\nwith her that Sir Herlews was slain withal.\nCHAPTER XIII. How Balin and the damosel met with a knight which was in\nlikewise slain, and how the damosel bled for the custom of a castle.\nSo Balin and the damosel rode into a forest, and there met with a\nknight that had been a-hunting, and that knight asked Balin for what\ncause he made so great sorrow. Me list not to tell you, said Balin.\nNow, said the knight, an I were armed as ye be I would fight with you.\nThat should little need, said Balin, I am not afeard to tell you, and\ntold him all the cause how it was. Ah, said the knight, is this all?\nhere I ensure you by the faith of my body never to depart from you\nwhile my life lasteth. And so they went to the hostelry and armed them,\nand so rode forth with Balin. And as they came by an hermitage even by\na churchyard, there came the knight Garlon invisible, and smote this\nknight, Perin de Mountbeliard, through the body with a spear. Alas,\nsaid the knight, I am slain by this traitor knight that rideth\ninvisible. Alas, said Balin, it is not the first despite he hath done\nme; and there the hermit and Balin buried the knight under a rich stone\nand a tomb royal. And on the morn they found letters of gold written,\nhow Sir Gawaine shall revenge his father\u2019s death, King Lot, on the King\nPellinore. Anon after this Balin and the damosel rode till they came to\na castle, and there Balin alighted, and he and the damosel went to go\ninto the castle, and anon as Balin came within the castle\u2019s gate the\nportcullis fell down at his back, and there fell many men about the\ndamosel, and would have slain her. When Balin saw that, he was sore\naggrieved, for he might not help the damosel. Then he went up into the\ntower, and leapt over walls into the ditch, and hurt him not; and anon\nhe pulled out his sword and would have foughten with them. And they all\nsaid nay, they would not fight with him, for they did nothing but the\nold custom of the castle; and told him how their lady was sick, and had\nlain many years, and she might not be whole but if she had a dish of\nsilver full of blood of a clean maid and a king\u2019s daughter; and\ntherefore the custom of this castle is, there shall no damosel pass\nthis way but she shall bleed of her blood in a silver dish full. Well,\nsaid Balin, she shall bleed as much as she may bleed, but I will not\nlose the life of her whiles my life lasteth. And so Balin made her to\nbleed by her good will, but her blood helped not the lady. And so he\nand she rested there all night, and had there right good cheer, and on\nthe morn they passed on their ways. And as it telleth after in the\nSangreal, that Sir Percivale\u2019s sister helped that lady with her blood,\nwhereof she was dead.\nCHAPTER XIV. How Balin met with that knight named Garlon at a feast,\nand there he slew him, to have his blood to heal therewith the son of\nhis host.\nThen they rode three or four days and never met with adventure, and by\nhap they were lodged with a gentle man that was a rich man and well at\nease. And as they sat at their supper Balin overheard one complain\ngrievously by him in a chair. What is this noise? said Balin. Forsooth,\nsaid his host, I will tell you. I was but late at a jousting, and there\nI jousted with a knight that is brother unto King Pellam, and twice\nsmote I him down, and then he promised to quit me on my best friend;\nand so he wounded my son, that cannot be whole till I have of that\nknight\u2019s blood, and he rideth alway invisible; but I know not his name.\nAh! said Balin, I know that knight, his name is Garlon, he hath slain\ntwo knights of mine in the same manner, therefore I had liefer meet\nwith that knight than all the gold in this realm, for the despite he\nhath done me. Well, said his host, I shall tell you, King Pellam of\nListeneise hath made do cry in all this country a great feast that\nshall be within these twenty days, and no knight may come there but if\nhe bring his wife with him, or his paramour; and that knight, your\nenemy and mine, ye shall see that day. Then I behote you, said Balin,\npart of his blood to heal your son withal. We will be forward to-morn,\nsaid his host. So on the morn they rode all three toward Pellam, and\nthey had fifteen days\u2019 journey or they came thither; and that same day\nbegan the great feast. And so they alighted and stabled their horses,\nand went into the castle; but Balin\u2019s host might not be let in because\nhe had no lady. Then Balin was well received and brought unto a chamber\nand unarmed him; and there were brought him robes to his pleasure, and\nwould have had Balin leave his sword behind him. Nay, said Balin, that\ndo I not, for it is the custom of my country a knight always to keep\nhis weapon with him, and that custom will I keep, or else I will depart\nas I came. Then they gave him leave to wear his sword, and so he went\nunto the castle, and was set among knights of worship, and his lady\nafore him.\nSoon Balin asked a knight, Is there not a knight in this court whose\nname is Garlon? Yonder he goeth, said a knight, he with the black face;\nhe is the marvellest knight that is now living, for he destroyeth many\ngood knights, for he goeth invisible. Ah well, said Balin, is that he?\nThen Balin advised him long: If I slay him here I shall not escape, and\nif I leave him now, peradventure I shall never meet with him again at\nsuch a steven, and much harm he will do an he live. Therewith this\nGarlon espied that this Balin beheld him, and then he came and smote\nBalin on the face with the back of his hand, and said, Knight, why\nbeholdest me so? for shame therefore, eat thy meat and do that thou\ncame for. Thou sayest sooth, said Balin, this is not the first despite\nthat thou hast done me, and therefore I will do what I came for, and\nrose up fiercely and clave his head to the shoulders. Give me the\ntruncheon, said Balin to his lady, wherewith he slew your knight. Anon\nshe gave it him, for alway she bare the truncheon with her. And\ntherewith Balin smote him through the body, and said openly, With that\ntruncheon thou hast slain a good knight, and now it sticketh in thy\nbody. And then Balin called unto him his host, saying, Now may ye fetch\nblood enough to heal your son withal.\nCHAPTER XV. How Balin fought with King Pellam, and how his sword brake,\nand how he gat a spear wherewith he smote the dolorous stroke.\nAnon all the knights arose from the table for to set on Balin, and King\nPellam himself arose up fiercely, and said, Knight, hast thou slain my\nbrother? thou shalt die therefore or thou depart. Well, said Balin, do\nit yourself. Yes, said King Pellam, there shall no man have ado with\nthee but myself, for the love of my brother. Then King Pellam caught in\nhis hand a grim weapon and smote eagerly at Balin; but Balin put the\nsword betwixt his head and the stroke, and therewith his sword burst in\nsunder. And when Balin was weaponless he ran into a chamber for to seek\nsome weapon, and so from chamber to chamber, and no weapon he could\nfind, and always King Pellam after him. And at the last he entered into\na chamber that was marvellously well dight and richly, and a bed\narrayed with cloth of gold, the richest that might be thought, and one\nlying therein, and thereby stood a table of clean gold with four\npillars of silver that bare up the table, and upon the table stood a\nmarvellous spear strangely wrought. And when Balin saw that spear, he\ngat it in his hand and turned him to King Pellam, and smote him\npassingly sore with that spear, that King Pellam fell down in a swoon,\nand therewith the castle roof and walls brake and fell to the earth,\nand Balin fell down so that he might not stir foot nor hand. And so the\nmost part of the castle, that was fallen down through that dolorous\nstroke, lay upon Pellam and Balin three days.\nCHAPTER XVI. How Balin was delivered by Merlin, and saved a knight that\nwould have slain himself for love.\nThen Merlin came thither and took up Balin, and gat him a good horse,\nfor his was dead, and bade him ride out of that country. I would have\nmy damosel, said Balin. Lo, said Merlin, where she lieth dead. And King\nPellam lay so, many years sore wounded, and might never be whole till\nGalahad the haut prince healed him in the quest of the Sangreal, for in\nthat place was part of the blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, that Joseph\nof Arimathea brought into this land, and there himself lay in that rich\nbed. And that was the same spear that Longius smote our Lord to the\nheart; and King Pellam was nigh of Joseph\u2019s kin, and that was the most\nworshipful man that lived in those days, and great pity it was of his\nhurt, for through that stroke, turned to great dole, tray and tene.\nThen departed Balin from Merlin, and said, In this world we meet never\nno more. So he rode forth through the fair countries and cities, and\nfound the people dead, slain on every side. And all that were alive\ncried, O Balin, thou hast caused great damage in these countries; for\nthe dolorous stroke thou gavest unto King Pellam three countries are\ndestroyed, and doubt not but the vengeance will fall on thee at the\nlast. When Balin was past those countries he was passing fain.\nSo he rode eight days or he met with adventure. And at the last he came\ninto a fair forest in a valley, and was ware of a tower, and there\nbeside he saw a great horse of war, tied to a tree, and there beside\nsat a fair knight on the ground and made great mourning, and he was a\nlikely man, and a well made. Balin said, God save you, why be ye so\nheavy? tell me and I will amend it, an I may, to my power. Sir knight,\nsaid he again, thou dost me great grief, for I was in merry thoughts,\nand now thou puttest me to more pain. Balin went a little from him, and\nlooked on his horse; then heard Balin him say thus: Ah, fair lady, why\nhave ye broken my promise, for thou promisest me to meet me here by\nnoon, and I may curse thee that ever ye gave me this sword, for with\nthis sword I slay myself, and pulled it out. And therewith Balin stert\nunto him and took him by the hand. Let go my hand, said the knight, or\nelse I shall slay thee. That shall not need, said Balin, for I shall\npromise you my help to get you your lady, an ye will tell me where she\nis. What is your name? said the knight. My name is Balin le Savage. Ah,\nsir, I know you well enough, ye are the Knight with the Two Swords, and\nthe man of most prowess of your hands living. What is your name? said\nBalin. My name is Garnish of the Mount, a poor man\u2019s son, but by my\nprowess and hardiness a duke hath made me knight, and gave me lands;\nhis name is Duke Hermel, and his daughter is she that I love, and she\nme as I deemed. How far is she hence? said Balin. But six mile, said\nthe knight. Now ride we hence, said these two knights. So they rode\nmore than a pace, till that they came to a fair castle well walled and\nditched. I will into the castle, said Balin, and look if she be there.\nSo he went in and searched from chamber to chamber, and found her bed,\nbut she was not there. Then Balin looked into a fair little garden, and\nunder a laurel tree he saw her lie upon a quilt of green samite and a\nknight in her arms, fast halsing either other, and under their heads\ngrass and herbs. When Balin saw her lie so with the foulest knight that\never he saw, and she a fair lady, then Balin went through all the\nchambers again, and told the knight how he found her as she had slept\nfast, and so brought him in the place there she lay fast sleeping.\nCHAPTER XVII. How that knight slew his love and a knight lying by her,\nand after, how he slew himself with his own sword, and how Balin rode\ntoward a castle where he lost his life.\nAnd when Garnish beheld her so lying, for pure sorrow his mouth and\nnose burst out a-bleeding, and with his sword he smote off both their\nheads, and then he made sorrow out of measure, and said, O Balin, much\nsorrow hast thou brought unto me, for hadst thou not shewed me that\nsight I should have passed my sorrow. Forsooth, said Balin, I did it to\nthis intent that it should better thy courage, and that ye might see\nand know her falsehood, and to cause you to leave love of such a lady;\nGod knoweth I did none other but as I would ye did to me. Alas, said\nGarnish, now is my sorrow double that I may not endure, now have I\nslain that I most loved in all my life; and therewith suddenly he rove\nhimself on his own sword unto the hilts. When Balin saw that, he\ndressed him thenceward, lest folk would say he had slain them; and so\nhe rode forth, and within three days he came by a cross, and thereon\nwere letters of gold written, that said, It is not for no knight alone\nto ride toward this castle. Then saw he an old hoar gentleman coming\ntoward him, that said, Balin le Savage, thou passest thy bounds to come\nthis way, therefore turn again and it will avail thee. And he vanished\naway anon; and so he heard an horn blow as it had been the death of a\nbeast. That blast, said Balin, is blown for me, for I am the prize and\nyet am I not dead. Anon withal he saw an hundred ladies and many\nknights, that welcomed him with fair semblant, and made him passing\ngood cheer unto his sight, and led him into the castle, and there was\ndancing and minstrelsy and all manner of joy. Then the chief lady of\nthe castle said, Knight with the Two Swords, ye must have ado and joust\nwith a knight hereby that keepeth an island, for there may no man pass\nthis way but he must joust or he pass. That is an unhappy custom, said\nBalin, that a knight may not pass this way but if he joust. Ye shall\nnot have ado but with one knight, said the lady.\nWell, said Balin, since I shall thereto I am ready, but travelling men\nare oft weary and their horses too, but though my horse be weary my\nheart is not weary, I would be fain there my death should be. Sir, said\na knight to Balin, methinketh your shield is not good, I will lend you\na bigger. Thereof I pray you. And so he took the shield that was\nunknown and left his own, and so rode unto the island, and put him and\nhis horse in a great boat; and when he came on the other side he met\nwith a damosel, and she said, O knight Balin, why have ye left your own\nshield? alas ye have put yourself in great danger, for by your shield\nye should have been known; it is great pity of you as ever was of\nknight, for of thy prowess and hardiness thou hast no fellow living. Me\nrepenteth, said Balin, that ever I came within this country, but I may\nnot turn now again for shame, and what adventure shall fall to me, be\nit life or death, I will take the adventure that shall come to me. And\nthen he looked on his armour, and understood he was well armed, and\ntherewith blessed him and mounted upon his horse.\nCHAPTER XVIII. How Balin met with his brother Balan, and how each of\nthem slew other unknown, till they were wounded to death.\nThen afore him he saw come riding out of a castle a knight, and his\nhorse trapped all red, and himself in the same colour. When this knight\nin the red beheld Balin, him thought it should be his brother Balin by\ncause of his two swords, but by cause he knew not his shield he deemed\nit was not he. And so they aventryd their spears and came marvellously\nfast together, and they smote each other in the shields, but their\nspears and their course were so big that it bare down horse and man,\nthat they lay both in a swoon. But Balin was bruised sore with the fall\nof his horse, for he was weary of travel. And Balan was the first that\nrose on foot and drew his sword, and went toward Balin, and he arose\nand went against him; but Balan smote Balin first, and he put up his\nshield and smote him through the shield and tamed his helm. Then Balin\nsmote him again with that unhappy sword, and well-nigh had felled his\nbrother Balan, and so they fought there together till their breaths\nfailed. Then Balin looked up to the castle and saw the towers stand\nfull of ladies. So they went unto battle again, and wounded everych\nother dolefully, and then they breathed ofttimes, and so went unto\nbattle that all the place there as they fought was blood red. And at\nthat time there was none of them both but they had either smitten other\nseven great wounds, so that the least of them might have been the death\nof the mightiest giant in this world.\nThen they went to battle again so marvellously that doubt it was to\nhear of that battle for the great blood-shedding, and their hauberks\nunnailed that naked they were on every side. At last Balan the younger\nbrother withdrew him a little and laid him down. Then said Balin le\nSavage, What knight art thou? for or now I found never no knight that\nmatched me. My name is, said he, Balan, brother unto the good knight,\nBalin. Alas, said Balin, that ever I should see this day, and therewith\nhe fell backward in a swoon. Then Balan yede on all four feet and\nhands, and put off the helm off his brother, and might not know him by\nthe visage it was so ful hewn and bled; but when he awoke he said, O\nBalan, my brother, thou hast slain me and I thee, wherefore all the\nwide world shall speak of us both. Alas, said Balan, that ever I saw\nthis day, that through mishap I might not know you, for I espied well\nyour two swords, but by cause ye had another shield I deemed ye had\nbeen another knight. Alas, said Balin, all that made an unhappy knight\nin the castle, for he caused me to leave my own shield to our both\u2019s\ndestruction, and if I might live I would destroy that castle for ill\ncustoms. That were well done, said Balan, for I had never grace to\ndepart from them since that I came hither, for here it happed me to\nslay a knight that kept this island, and since might I never depart,\nand no more should ye, brother, an ye might have slain me as ye have,\nand escaped yourself with the life.\nRight so came the lady of the tower with four knights and six ladies\nand six yeomen unto them, and there she heard how they made their moan\neither to other, and said, We came both out of one tomb, that is to say\none mother\u2019s belly, and so shall we lie both in one pit. So Balan\nprayed the lady of her gentleness, for his true service, that she would\nbury them both in that same place there the battle was done. And she\ngranted them, with weeping, it should be done richly in the best\nmanner. Now, will ye send for a priest, that we may receive our\nsacrament, and receive the blessed body of our Lord Jesus Christ? Yea,\nsaid the lady, it shall be done; and so she sent for a priest and gave\nthem their rights. Now, said Balin, when we are buried in one tomb, and\nthe mention made over us how two brethren slew each other, there will\nnever good knight, nor good man, see our tomb but they will pray for\nour souls. And so all the ladies and gentlewomen wept for pity. Then\nanon Balan died, but Balin died not till the midnight after, and so\nwere they buried both, and the lady let make a mention of Balan how he\nwas there slain by his brother\u2019s hands, but she knew not Balin\u2019s name.\nCHAPTER XIX. How Merlin buried them both in one tomb, and of Balin\u2019s\nsword.\nIn the morn came Merlin and let write Balin\u2019s name on the tomb with\nletters of gold, that Here lieth Balin le Savage that was the Knight\nwith the Two Swords, and he that smote the Dolorous Stroke. Also Merlin\nlet make there a bed, that there should never man lie therein but he\nwent out of his wit, yet Launcelot de Lake fordid that bed through his\nnoblesse. And anon after Balin was dead, Merlin took his sword, and\ntook off the pommel and set on another pommel. So Merlin bade a knight\nthat stood afore him handle that sword, and he assayed, and he might\nnot handle it. Then Merlin laughed. Why laugh ye? said the knight. This\nis the cause, said Merlin: there shall never man handle this sword but\nthe best knight of the world, and that shall be Sir Launcelot or else\nGalahad his son, and Launcelot with this sword shall slay the man that\nin the world he loved best, that shall be Sir Gawaine. All this he let\nwrite in the pommel of the sword. Then Merlin let make a bridge of iron\nand of steel into that island, and it was but half a foot broad, and\nthere shall never man pass that bridge, nor have hardiness to go over,\nbut if he were a passing good man and a good knight without treachery\nor villainy. Also the scabbard of Balin\u2019s sword Merlin left it on this\nside the island, that Galahad should find it. Also Merlin let make by\nhis subtilty that Balin\u2019s sword was put in a marble stone standing\nupright as great as a mill stone, and the stone hoved always above the\nwater and did many years, and so by adventure it swam down the stream\nto the City of Camelot, that is in English Winchester. And that same\nday Galahad the haut prince came with King Arthur, and so Galahad\nbrought with him the scabbard and achieved the sword that was there in\nthe marble stone hoving upon the water. And on Whitsunday he achieved\nthe sword as it is rehearsed in the book of Sangreal.\nSoon after this was done Merlin came to King Arthur and told him of the\ndolorous stroke that Balin gave to King Pellam, and how Balin and Balan\nfought together the marvellest battle that ever was heard of, and how\nthey were buried both in one tomb. Alas, said King Arthur, this is the\ngreatest pity that ever I heard tell of two knights, for in the world I\nknow not such two knights. Thus endeth the tale of Balin and of Balan,\ntwo brethren born in Northumberland, good knights.\nSequitur iii. liber.\nBOOK III.\nCHAPTER I. How King Arthur took a wife, and wedded Guenever, daughter\nto Leodegrance, King of the Land of Cameliard, with whom he had the\nRound Table.\nIn the beginning of Arthur, after he was chosen king by adventure and\nby grace; for the most part of the barons knew not that he was Uther\nPendragon\u2019s son, but as Merlin made it openly known. But yet many kings\nand lords held great war against him for that cause, but well Arthur\novercame them all, for the most part the days of his life he was ruled\nmuch by the counsel of Merlin. So it fell on a time King Arthur said\nunto Merlin, My barons will let me have no rest, but needs I must take\na wife, and I will none take but by thy counsel and by thine advice. It\nis well done, said Merlin, that ye take a wife, for a man of your\nbounty and noblesse should not be without a wife. Now is there any that\nye love more than another? Yea, said King Arthur, I love Guenever the\nking\u2019s daughter, Leodegrance of the land of Cameliard, the which\nholdeth in his house the Table Round that ye told he had of my father\nUther. And this damosel is the most valiant and fairest lady that I\nknow living, or yet that ever I could find. Sir, said Merlin, as of her\nbeauty and fairness she is one of the fairest alive, but, an ye loved\nher not so well as ye do, I should find you a damosel of beauty and of\ngoodness that should like you and please you, an your heart were not\nset; but there as a man\u2019s heart is set, he will be loath to return.\nThat is truth, said King Arthur. But Merlin warned the king covertly\nthat Guenever was not wholesome for him to take to wife, for he warned\nhim that Launcelot should love her, and she him again; and so he turned\nhis tale to the adventures of Sangreal.\nThen Merlin desired of the king for to have men with him that should\nenquire of Guenever, and so the king granted him, and Merlin went forth\nunto King Leodegrance of Cameliard, and told him of the desires of the\nking that he would have unto his wife Guenever his daughter. That is to\nme, said King Leodegrance, the best tidings that ever I heard, that so\nworthy a king of prowess and noblesse will wed my daughter. And as for\nmy lands, I will give him, wist I it might please him, but he hath\nlands enow, him needeth none; but I shall send him a gift shall please\nhim much more, for I shall give him the Table Round, the which Uther\nPendragon gave me, and when it is full complete, there is an hundred\nknights and fifty. And as for an hundred good knights I have myself,\nbut I faute fifty, for so many have been slain in my days. And so\nLeodegrance delivered his daughter Guenever unto Merlin, and the Table\nRound with the hundred knights, and so they rode freshly, with great\nroyalty, what by water and what by land, till that they came nigh unto\nLondon.\nCHAPTER II. How the Knights of the Round Table were ordained and their\nsieges blessed by the Bishop of Canterbury.\nWhen King Arthur heard of the coming of Guenever and the hundred\nknights with the Table Round, then King Arthur made great joy for her\ncoming, and that rich present, and said openly, This fair lady is\npassing welcome unto me, for I have loved her long, and therefore there\nis nothing so lief to me. And these knights with the Round Table please\nme more than right great riches. And in all haste the king let ordain\nfor the marriage and the coronation in the most honourable wise that\ncould be devised. Now, Merlin, said King Arthur, go thou and espy me in\nall this land fifty knights which be of most prowess and worship.\nWithin short time Merlin had found such knights that should fulfil\ntwenty and eight knights, but no more he could find. Then the Bishop of\nCanterbury was fetched, and he blessed the sieges with great royalty\nand devotion, and there set the eight and twenty knights in their\nsieges. And when this was done Merlin said, Fair sirs, ye must all\narise and come to King Arthur for to do him homage; he will have the\nbetter will to maintain you. And so they arose and did their homage,\nand when they were gone Merlin found in every sieges letters of gold\nthat told the knights\u2019 names that had sitten therein. But two sieges\nwere void. And so anon came young Gawaine and asked the king a gift.\nAsk, said the king, and I shall grant it you. Sir, I ask that ye will\nmake me knight that same day ye shall wed fair Guenever. I will do it\nwith a good will, said King Arthur, and do unto you all the worship\nthat I may, for I must by reason ye are my nephew, my sister\u2019s son.\nCHAPTER III. How a poor man riding upon a lean mare desired King Arthur\nto make his son knight.\nForthwithal there came a poor man into the court, and brought with him\na fair young man of eighteen years of age riding upon a lean mare; and\nthe poor man asked all men that he met, Where shall I find King Arthur?\nYonder he is, said the knights, wilt thou anything with him? Yea, said\nthe poor man, therefore I came hither. Anon as he came before the king,\nhe saluted him and said: O King Arthur, the flower of all knights and\nkings, I beseech Jesu save thee. Sir, it was told me that at this time\nof your marriage ye would give any man the gift that he would ask, out\nexcept that were unreasonable. That is truth, said the king, such cries\nI let make, and that will I hold, so it apair not my realm nor mine\nestate. Ye say well and graciously, said the poor man; Sir, I ask\nnothing else but that ye will make my son here a knight. It is a great\nthing thou askest of me, said the king. What is thy name? said the king\nto the poor man. Sir, my name is Aries the cowherd. Whether cometh this\nof thee or of thy son? said the king. Nay, sir, said Aries, this desire\ncometh of my son and not of me, for I shall tell you I have thirteen\nsons, and all they will fall to what labour I put them, and will be\nright glad to do labour, but this child will not labour for me, for\nanything that my wife or I may do, but always he will be shooting or\ncasting darts, and glad for to see battles and to behold knights, and\nalways day and night he desireth of me to be made a knight. What is thy\nname? said the king unto the young man. Sir, my name is Tor. The king\nbeheld him fast, and saw he was passingly well-visaged and passingly\nwell made of his years. Well, said King Arthur unto Aries the cowherd,\nfetch all thy sons afore me that I may see them. And so the poor man\ndid, and all were shaped much like the poor man. But Tor was not like\nnone of them all in shape nor in countenance, for he was much more than\nany of them. Now, said King Arthur unto the cow herd, where is the\nsword he shall be made knight withal? It is here, said Tor. Take it out\nof the sheath, said the king, and require me to make you a knight.\nThen Tor alighted off his mare and pulled out his sword, kneeling, and\nrequiring the king that he would make him knight, and that he might be\na knight of the Table Round. As for a knight I will make you, and\ntherewith smote him in the neck with the sword, saying, Be ye a good\nknight, and so I pray to God so ye may be, and if ye be of prowess and\nof worthiness ye shall be a knight of the Table Round. Now Merlin, said\nArthur, say whether this Tor shall be a good knight or no. Yea, sir, he\nought to be a good knight, for he is come of as good a man as any is\nalive, and of kings\u2019 blood. How so, sir? said the king. I shall tell\nyou, said Merlin: This poor man, Aries the cowherd, is not his father;\nhe is nothing sib to him, for King Pellinore is his father. I suppose\nnay, said the cowherd. Fetch thy wife afore me, said Merlin, and she\nshall not say nay. Anon the wife was fetched, which was a fair\nhousewife, and there she answered Merlin full womanly, and there she\ntold the king and Merlin that when she was a maid, and went to milk\nkine, there met with her a stern knight, and half by force he had my\nmaidenhead, and at that time he begat my son Tor, and he took away from\nme my greyhound that I had that time with me, and said that he would\nkeep the greyhound for my love. Ah, said the cowherd, I weened not\nthis, but I may believe it well, for he had never no tatches of me.\nSir, said Tor unto Merlin, dishonour not my mother. Sir, said Merlin,\nit is more for your worship than hurt, for your father is a good man\nand a king, and he may right well advance you and your mother, for ye\nwere begotten or ever she was wedded. That is truth, said the wife. It\nis the less grief unto me, said the cowherd.\nCHAPTER IV. How Sir Tor was known for son of King Pellinore, and how\nGawaine was made knight.\nSo on the morn King Pellinore came to the court of King Arthur, which\nhad great joy of him, and told him of Tor, how he was his son, and how\nhe had made him knight at the request of the cowherd. When Pellinore\nbeheld Tor, he pleased him much. So the king made Gawaine knight, but\nTor was the first he made at the feast. What is the cause, said King\nArthur, that there be two places void in the sieges? Sir, said Merlin,\nthere shall no man sit in those places but they that shall be of most\nworship. But in the Siege Perilous there shall no man sit therein but\none, and if there be any so hardy to do it he shall be destroyed, and\nhe that shall sit there shall have no fellow. And therewith Merlin took\nKing Pellinore by the hand, and in the one hand next the two sieges and\nthe Siege Perilous he said, in open audience, This is your place and\nbest ye are worthy to sit therein of any that is here. Thereat sat Sir\nGawaine in great envy and told Gaheris his brother, yonder knight is\nput to great worship, the which grieveth me sore, for he slew our\nfather King Lot, therefore I will slay him, said Gawaine, with a sword\nthat was sent me that is passing trenchant. Ye shall not so, said\nGaheris, at this time, for at this time I am but a squire, and when I\nam made knight I will be avenged on him, and therefore, brother, it is\nbest ye suffer till another time, that we may have him out of the\ncourt, for an we did so we should trouble this high feast. I will well,\nsaid Gawaine, as ye will.\nCHAPTER V. How at feast of the wedding of King Arthur to Guenever, a\nwhite hart came into the hall, and thirty couple hounds, and how a\nbrachet pinched the hart which was taken away.\nThen was the high feast made ready, and the king was wedded at Camelot\nunto Dame Guenever in the church of Saint Stephen\u2019s, with great\nsolemnity. And as every man was set after his degree, Merlin went to\nall the knights of the Round Table, and bade them sit still, that none\nof them remove. For ye shall see a strange and a marvellous adventure.\nRight so as they sat there came running in a white hart into the hall,\nand a white brachet next him, and thirty couple of black running hounds\ncame after with a great cry, and the hart went about the Table Round as\nhe went by other boards. The white brachet bit him by the buttock and\npulled out a piece, wherethrough the hart leapt a great leap and\noverthrew a knight that sat at the board side; and therewith the knight\narose and took up the brachet, and so went forth out of the hall, and\ntook his horse and rode his way with the brachet. Right so anon came in\na lady on a white palfrey, and cried aloud to King Arthur, Sir, suffer\nme not to have this despite, for the brachet was mine that the knight\nled away. I may not do therewith, said the king.\nWith this there came a knight riding all armed on a great horse, and\ntook the lady away with him with force, and ever she cried and made\ngreat dole. When she was gone the king was glad, for she made such a\nnoise. Nay, said Merlin, ye may not leave these adventures so lightly;\nfor these adventures must be brought again or else it would be\ndisworship to you and to your feast. I will, said the king, that all be\ndone by your advice. Then, said Merlin, let call Sir Gawaine, for he\nmust bring again the white hart. Also, sir, ye must let call Sir Tor,\nfor he must bring again the brachet and the knight, or else slay him.\nAlso let call King Pellinore, for he must bring again the lady and the\nknight, or else slay him. And these three knights shall do marvellous\nadventures or they come again. Then were they called all three as it\nrehearseth afore, and each of them took his charge, and armed them\nsurely. But Sir Gawaine had the first request, and therefore we will\nbegin at him.\nCHAPTER VI. How Sir Gawaine rode for to fetch again the hart, and how\ntwo brethren fought each against other for the hart.\nSir Gawaine rode more than a pace, and Gaheris his brother that rode\nwith him instead of a squire to do him service. So as they rode they\nsaw two knights fight on horseback passing sore, so Sir Gawaine and his\nbrother rode betwixt them, and asked them for what cause they fought\nso. The one knight answered and said, We fight for a simple matter, for\nwe two be two brethren born and begotten of one man and of one woman.\nAlas, said Sir Gawaine, why do ye so? Sir, said the elder, there came a\nwhite hart this way this day, and many hounds chased him, and a white\nbrachet was alway next him, and we understood it was adventure made for\nthe high feast of King Arthur, and therefore I would have gone after to\nhave won me worship; and here my younger brother said he would go after\nthe hart, for he was better knight than I: and for this cause we fell\nat debate, and so we thought to prove which of us both was better\nknight. This is a simple cause, said Sir Gawaine; uncouth men ye should\ndebate withal, and not brother with brother; therefore but if you will\ndo by my counsel I will have ado with you, that is ye shall yield you\nunto me, and that ye go unto King Arthur and yield you unto his grace.\nSir knight, said the two brethren, we are forfoughten and much blood\nhave we lost through our wilfulness, and therefore we would be loath to\nhave ado with you. Then do as I will have you, said Sir Gawaine. We\nwill agree to fulfil your will; but by whom shall we say that we be\nthither sent? Ye may say, By the knight that followeth the quest of the\nhart that was white. Now what is your name? said Gawaine. Sorlouse of\nthe Forest, said the elder. And my name is, said the younger, Brian of\nthe Forest. And so they departed and went to the king\u2019s court, and Sir\nGawaine on his quest.\nAnd as Gawaine followed the hart by the cry of the hounds, even afore\nhim there was a great river, and the hart swam over; and as Sir Gawaine\nwould follow after, there stood a knight over the other side, and said,\nSir knight, come not over after this hart but if thou wilt joust with\nme. I will not fail as for that, said Sir Gawaine, to follow the quest\nthat I am in, and so made his horse to swim over the water. And anon\nthey gat their spears and ran together full hard; but Sir Gawaine smote\nhim off his horse, and then he turned his horse and bade him yield him.\nNay, said the knight, not so, though thou have the better of me on\nhorseback. I pray thee, valiant knight, alight afoot, and match we\ntogether with swords. What is your name? said Sir Gawaine. Allardin of\nthe Isles, said the other. Then either dressed their shields and smote\ntogether, but Sir Gawaine smote him so hard through the helm that it\nwent to the brains, and the knight fell down dead. Ah! said Gaheris,\nthat was a mighty stroke of a young knight.\nCHAPTER VII How the hart was chased into a castle and there slain, and\nhow Sir Gawaine slew a lady.\nThen Gawaine and Gaheris rode more than a pace after the white hart,\nand let slip at the hart three couple of greyhounds, and so they chased\nthe hart into a castle, and in the chief place of the castle they slew\nthe hart; Sir Gawaine and Gaheris followed after. Right so there came a\nknight out of a chamber with a sword drawn in his hand and slew two of\nthe greyhounds, even in the sight of Sir Gawaine, and the remnant he\nchased them with his sword out of the castle. And when he came again,\nhe said, O my white hart, me repenteth that thou art dead, for my\nsovereign lady gave thee to me, and evil have I kept thee, and thy\ndeath shall be dear bought an I live. And anon he went into his chamber\nand armed him, and came out fiercely, and there met he with Sir\nGawaine. Why have ye slain my hounds? said Sir Gawaine, for they did\nbut their kind, and liefer I had ye had wroken your anger upon me than\nupon a dumb beast. Thou sayest truth, said the knight, I have avenged\nme on thy hounds, and so I will on thee or thou go. Then Sir Gawaine\nalighted afoot and dressed his shield, and struck together mightily,\nand clave their shields, and stoned their helms, and brake their\nhauberks that the blood ran down to their feet.\nAt the last Sir Gawaine smote the knight so hard that he fell to the\nearth, and then he cried mercy, and yielded him, and besought him as he\nwas a knight and gentleman, to save his life. Thou shalt die, said Sir\nGawaine, for slaying of my hounds. I will make amends, said the knight,\nunto my power. Sir Gawaine would no mercy have, but unlaced his helm to\nhave stricken off his head. Right so came his lady out of a chamber and\nfell over him, and so he smote off her head by misadventure. Alas, said\nGaheris, that is foully and shamefully done, that shame shall never\nfrom you; also ye should give mercy unto them that ask mercy, for a\nknight without mercy is without worship. Sir Gawaine was so stonied of\nthe death of this fair lady that he wist not what he did, and said unto\nthe knight, Arise, I will give thee mercy. Nay, nay, said the knight, I\ntake no force of mercy now, for thou hast slain my love and my lady\nthat I loved best of all earthly things. Me sore repenteth it, said Sir\nGawaine, for I thought to strike unto thee; but now thou shalt go unto\nKing Arthur and tell him of thine adventures, and how thou art overcome\nby the knight that went in the quest of the white hart. I take no\nforce, said the knight, whether I live or I die; but so for dread of\ndeath he swore to go unto King Arthur, and he made him to bear one\ngreyhound before him on his horse, and another behind him. What is your\nname? said Sir Gawaine, or we depart. My name is, said the knight,\nAblamar of the Marsh. So he departed toward Camelot.\nCHAPTER VIII. How four knights fought against Gawaine and Gaheris, and\nhow they were overcome, and their lives saved at request of four\nladies.\nAnd Sir Gawaine went into the castle, and made him ready to lie there\nall night, and would have unarmed him. What will ye do, said Gaheris,\nwill ye unarm you in this country? Ye may think ye have many enemies\nhere. They had not sooner said that word but there came four knights\nwell armed, and assailed Sir Gawaine hard, and said unto him, Thou\nnew-made knight, thou hast shamed thy knighthood, for a knight without\nmercy is dishonoured. Also thou hast slain a fair lady to thy great\nshame to the world\u2019s end, and doubt thou not thou shalt have great need\nof mercy or thou depart from us. And therewith one of them smote Sir\nGawaine a great stroke that nigh he fell to the earth, and Gaheris\nsmote him again sore, and so they were on the one side and on the\nother, that Sir Gawaine and Gaheris were in jeopardy of their lives;\nand one with a bow, an archer, smote Sir Gawaine through the arm that\nit grieved him wonderly sore. And as they should have been slain, there\ncame four fair ladies, and besought the knights of grace for Sir\nGawaine; and goodly at request of the ladies they gave Sir Gawaine and\nGaheris their lives, and made them to yield them as prisoners. Then\nGawaine and Gaheris made great dole. Alas! said Sir Gawaine, mine arm\ngrieveth me sore, I am like to be maimed; and so made his complaint\npiteously.\nEarly on the morrow there came to Sir Gawaine one of the four ladies\nthat had heard all his complaint, and said, Sir knight, what cheer? Not\ngood, said he. It is your own default, said the lady, for ye have done\na passing foul deed in the slaying of the lady, the which will be great\nvillainy unto you. But be ye not of King Arthur\u2019s kin? said the lady.\nYes truly, said Sir Gawaine. What is your name? said the lady, ye must\ntell it me or ye pass. My name is Gawaine, the King Lot of Orkney\u2019s\nson, and my mother is King Arthur\u2019s sister. Ah! then are ye nephew unto\nKing Arthur, said the lady, and I shall so speak for you that ye shall\nhave conduct to go to King Arthur for his love. And so she departed and\ntold the four knights how their prisoner was King Arthur\u2019s nephew, and\nhis name is Sir Gawaine, King Lot\u2019s son of Orkney. And they gave him\nthe hart\u2019s head because it was in his quest. Then anon they delivered\nSir Gawaine under this promise, that he should bear the dead lady with\nhim in this manner; the head of her was hanged about his neck, and the\nwhole body of her lay before him on his horse\u2019s mane. Right so rode he\nforth unto Camelot. And anon as he was come, Merlin desired of King\nArthur that Sir Gawaine should be sworn to tell of all his adventures,\nand how he slew the lady, and how he would give no mercy unto the\nknight, wherethrough the lady was slain. Then the king and the queen\nwere greatly displeased with Sir Gawaine for the slaying of the lady.\nAnd there by ordinance of the queen there was set a quest of ladies on\nSir Gawaine, and they judged him for ever while he lived to be with all\nladies, and to fight for their quarrels; and that ever he should be\ncourteous, and never to refuse mercy to him that asketh mercy. Thus was\nGawaine sworn upon the Four Evangelists that he should never be against\nlady nor gentlewoman, but if he fought for a lady and his adversary\nfought for another. And thus endeth the adventure of Sir Gawaine that\nhe did at the marriage of King Arthur. Amen.\nCHAPTER IX. How Sir Tor rode after the knight with the brachet, and of\nhis adventure by the way.\nWhen Sir Tor was ready, he mounted upon his horseback, and rode after\nthe knight with the brachet. So as he rode he met with a dwarf suddenly\nthat smote his horse on the head with a staff, that he went backward\nhis spear length. Why dost thou so? said Sir Tor. For thou shalt not\npass this way, but if thou joust with yonder knights of the pavilions.\nThen was Tor ware where two pavilions were, and great spears stood out,\nand two shields hung on trees by the pavilions. I may not tarry, said\nSir Tor, for I am in a quest that I must needs follow. Thou shalt not\npass, said the dwarf, and therewithal he blew his horn. Then there came\none armed on horseback, and dressed his shield, and came fast toward\nTor, and he dressed him against him, and so ran together that Tor bare\nhim from his horse. And anon the knight yielded him to his mercy. But,\nsir, I have a fellow in yonder pavilion that will have ado with you\nanon. He shall be welcome, said Sir Tor. Then was he ware of another\nknight coming with great raundon, and each of them dressed to other,\nthat marvel it was to see; but the knight smote Sir Tor a great stroke\nin midst of the shield that his spear all to-shivered. And Sir Tor\nsmote him through the shield below of the shield that it went through\nthe cost of the knight, but the stroke slew him not. And therewith Sir\nTor alighted and smote him on the helm a great stroke, and therewith\nthe knight yielded him and besought him of mercy. I will well, said Sir\nTor, but thou and thy fellow must go unto King Arthur, and yield you\nprisoners unto him. By whom shall we say are we thither sent? Ye shall\nsay by the knight that went in the quest of the knight that went with\nthe brachet. Now, what be your two names? said Sir Tor. My name is,\nsaid the one, Sir Felot of Langduk; and my name is, said the other, Sir\nPetipase of Winchelsea. Now go ye forth, said Sir Tor, and God speed\nyou and me. Then came the dwarf and said unto Sir Tor, I pray you give\nme a gift. I will well, said Sir Tor, ask. I ask no more, said the\ndwarf, but that ye will suffer me to do you service, for I will serve\nno more recreant knights. Take an horse, said Sir Tor, and ride on with\nme. I wot ye ride after the knight with the white brachet, and I shall\nbring you where he is, said the dwarf. And so they rode throughout a\nforest, and at the last they were ware of two pavilions, even by a\npriory, with two shields, and the one shield was enewed with white, and\nthe other shield was red.\nCHAPTER X. How Sir Tor found the brachet with a lady, and how a knight\nassailed him for the said brachet.\nTherewith Sir Tor alighted and took the dwarf his glaive, and so he\ncame to the white pavilion, and saw three damosels lie in it, on one\npallet, sleeping, and so he went to the other pavilion, and found a\nlady lying sleeping therein, but there was the white brachet that bayed\nat her fast, and therewith the lady yede out of the pavilion and all\nher damosels. But anon as Sir Tor espied the white brachet, he took her\nby force and took her to the dwarf. What, will ye so, said the lady,\ntake my brachet from me? Yea, said Sir Tor, this brachet have I sought\nfrom King Arthur\u2019s court hither. Well, said the lady, knight, ye shall\nnot go far with her, but that ye shall be met and grieved. I shall\nabide what adventure that cometh by the grace of God, and so mounted\nupon his horse, and passed on his way toward Camelot; but it was so\nnear night he might not pass but little further. Know ye any lodging?\nsaid Tor. I know none, said the dwarf, but here beside is an hermitage,\nand there ye must take lodging as ye find. And within a while they came\nto the hermitage and took lodging; and was there grass, oats and bread\nfor their horses; soon it was sped, and full hard was their supper; but\nthere they rested them all night till on the morn, and heard a mass\ndevoutly, and took their leave of the hermit, and Sir Tor prayed the\nhermit to pray for him. He said he would, and betook him to God. And so\nmounted upon horseback and rode towards Camelot a long while.\nWith that they heard a knight call loud that came after them, and he\nsaid, Knight, abide and yield my brachet that thou took from my lady.\nSir Tor returned again, and beheld him how he was a seemly knight and\nwell horsed, and well armed at all points; then Sir Tor dressed his\nshield, and took his spear in his hands, and the other came fiercely\nupon him, and smote both horse and man to the earth. Anon they arose\nlightly and drew their swords as eagerly as lions, and put their\nshields afore them, and smote through the shields, that the cantels\nfell off both parties. Also they tamed their helms that the hot blood\nran out, and the thick mails of their hauberks they carved and rove in\nsunder that the hot blood ran to the earth, and both they had many\nwounds and were passing weary. But Sir Tor espied that the other knight\nfainted, and then he sued fast upon him, and doubled his strokes, and\ngart him go to the earth on the one side. Then Sir Tor bade him yield\nhim. That will I not, said Abelleus, while my life lasteth and the soul\nis within my body, unless that thou wilt give me the brachet. That will\nI not do, said Sir Tor, for it was my quest to bring again thy brachet,\nthee, or both.\nCHAPTER XI. How Sir Tor overcame the knight, and how he lost his head\nat the request of a lady.\nWith that came a damosel riding on a palfrey as fast as she might\ndrive, and cried with a loud voice unto Sir Tor. What will ye with me?\nsaid Sir Tor. I beseech thee, said the damosel, for King Arthur\u2019s love,\ngive me a gift; I require thee, gentle knight, as thou art a gentleman.\nNow, said Tor, ask a gift and I will give it you. Gramercy, said the\ndamosel; now I ask the head of the false knight Abelleus, for he is the\nmost outrageous knight that liveth, and the greatest murderer. I am\nloath, said Sir Tor, of that gift I have given you; let him make amends\nin that he hath trespassed unto you. Now, said the damosel, he may not,\nfor he slew mine own brother before mine own eyes, that was a better\nknight than he, an he had had grace; and I kneeled half an hour afore\nhim in the mire for to save my brother\u2019s life, that had done him no\ndamage, but fought with him by adventure of arms, and so for all that I\ncould do he struck off his head; wherefore I require thee, as thou art\na true knight, to give me my gift, or else I shall shame thee in all\nthe court of King Arthur; for he is the falsest knight living, and a\ngreat destroyer of good knights. Then when Abelleus heard this, he was\nmore afeard, and yielded him and asked mercy. I may not now, said Sir\nTor, but if I should be found false of my promise; for while I would\nhave taken you to mercy ye would none ask, but if ye had the brachet\nagain, that was my quest. And therewith he took off his helm, and he\narose and fled, and Sir Tor after him, and smote off his head quite.\nNow sir, said the damosel, it is near night; I pray you come and lodge\nwith me here at my place, it is here fast by. I will well, said Sir\nTor, for his horse and he had fared evil since they departed from\nCamelot, and so he rode with her, and had passing good cheer with her;\nand she had a passing fair old knight to her husband that made him\npassing good cheer, and well eased both his horse and him. And on the\nmorn he heard his mass, and brake his fast, and took his leave of the\nknight and of the lady, that besought him to tell them his name. Truly,\nhe said, my name is Sir Tor that was late made knight, and this was the\nfirst quest of arms that ever I did, to bring again that this knight\nAbelleus took away from King Arthur\u2019s court. O fair knight, said the\nlady and her husband, an ye come here in our marches, come and see our\npoor lodging, and it shall be always at your commandment. So Sir Tor\ndeparted and came to Camelot on the third day by noon, and the king and\nthe queen and all the court was passing fain of his coming, and made\ngreat joy that he was come again; for he went from the court with\nlittle succour, but as King Pellinore his father gave him an old\ncourser, and King Arthur gave him armour and a sword, and else had he\nnone other succour, but rode so forth himself alone. And then the king\nand the queen by Merlin\u2019s advice made him to swear to tell of his\nadventures, and so he told and made proofs of his deeds as it is afore\nrehearsed, wherefore the king and the queen made great joy. Nay, nay,\nsaid Merlin, these be but japes to that he shall do; for he shall prove\na noble knight of prowess, as good as any is living, and gentle and\ncourteous, and of good tatches, and passing true of his promise, and\nnever shall outrage. Wherethrough Merlin\u2019s words King Arthur gave him\nan earldom of lands that fell unto him. And here endeth the quest of\nSir Tor, King Pellinore\u2019s son.\nCHAPTER XII. How King Pellinore rode after the lady and the knight that\nled her away, and how a lady desired help of him, and how he fought\nwith two knights for that lady, of whom he slew the one at the first\nstroke.\nThen King Pellinore armed him and mounted upon his horse, and rode more\nthan a pace after the lady that the knight led away. And as he rode in\na forest, he saw in a valley a damosel sit by a well, and a wounded\nknight in her arms, and Pellinore saluted her. And when she was ware of\nhim, she cried overloud, Help me, knight; for Christ\u2019s sake, King\nPellinore. And he would not tarry, he was so eager in his quest, and\never she cried an hundred times after help. When she saw he would not\nabide, she prayed unto God to send him as much need of help as she had,\nand that he might feel it or he died. So, as the book telleth, the\nknight there died that there was wounded, wherefore the lady for pure\nsorrow slew herself with his sword. As King Pellinore rode in that\nvalley he met with a poor man, a labourer. Sawest thou not, said\nPellinore, a knight riding and leading away a lady? Yea, said the man,\nI saw that knight, and the lady that made great dole; and yonder\nbeneath in a valley there shall ye see two pavilions, and one of the\nknights of the pavilions challenged that lady of that knight, and said\nshe was his cousin near, wherefore he should lead her no farther. And\nso they waged battle in that quarrel, the one said he would have her by\nforce, and the other said he would have the rule of her, by cause he\nwas her kinsman, and would lead her to her kin. For this quarrel he\nleft them fighting. And if ye will ride a pace ye shall find them\nfighting, and the lady was beleft with the two squires in the\npavilions. God thank thee, said King Pellinore.\nThen he rode a wallop till he had a sight of the two pavilions, and the\ntwo knights fighting. Anon he rode unto the pavilions, and saw the lady\nthat was his quest, and said, Fair lady, ye must go with me unto the\ncourt of King Arthur. Sir knight, said the two squires that were with\nher, yonder are two knights that fight for this lady, go thither and\ndepart them, and be agreed with them, and then may ye have her at your\npleasure. Ye say well, said King Pellinore. And anon he rode betwixt\nthem, and departed them, and asked them the causes why that they\nfought? Sir knight, said the one, I shall tell you, this lady is my\nkinswoman nigh, mine aunt\u2019s daughter, and when I heard her complain\nthat she was with him maugre her head, I waged battle to fight with\nhim. Sir knight, said the other, whose name was Hontzlake of Wentland,\nand this lady I gat by my prowess of arms this day at Arthur\u2019s court.\nThat is untruly said, said King Pellinore, for ye came in suddenly\nthere as we were at the high feast, and took away this lady or any man\nmight make him ready; and therefore it was my quest to bring her again\nand you both, or else the one of us to abide in the field; therefore\nthe lady shall go with me, or I will die for it, for I have promised it\nKing Arthur. And therefore fight ye no more, for none of you shall have\nno part of her at this time; and if ye list to fight for her, fight\nwith me, and I will defend her. Well, said the knights, make you ready,\nand we shall assail you with all our power. And as King Pellinore would\nhave put his horse from them, Sir Hontzlake rove his horse through with\na sword, and said: Now art thou on foot as well as we are. When King\nPellinore espied that his horse was slain, lightly he leapt from his\nhorse and pulled out his sword, and put his shield afore him, and said,\nKnight, keep well thy head, for thou shalt have a buffet for the\nslaying of my horse. So King Pellinore gave him such a stroke upon the\nhelm that he clave the head down to the chin, that he fell to the earth\ndead.\nCHAPTER XIII. How King Pellinore gat the lady and brought her to\nCamelot to the court of King Arthur.\nAnd then he turned him to the other knight, that was sore wounded. But\nwhen he saw the other\u2019s buffet, he would not fight, but kneeled down\nand said, Take my cousin the lady with you at your request, and I\nrequire you, as ye be a true knight, put her to no shame nor villainy.\nWhat, said King Pellinore, will ye not fight for her? No, sir, said the\nknight, I will not fight with such a knight of prowess as ye be. Well,\nsaid Pellinore, ye say well; I promise you she shall have no villainy\nby me, as I am true knight; but now me lacketh an horse, said\nPellinore, but I will have Hontzlake\u2019s horse. Ye shall not need, said\nthe knight, for I shall give you such an horse as shall please you, so\nthat you will lodge with me, for it is near night. I will well, said\nKing Pellinore, abide with you all night. And there he had with him\nright good cheer, and fared of the best with passing good wine, and had\nmerry rest that night. And on the morn he heard a mass and dined; and\nthen was brought him a fair bay courser, and King Pellinore\u2019s saddle\nset upon him. Now, what shall I call you? said the knight, inasmuch as\nye have my cousin at your desire of your quest. Sir, I shall tell you,\nmy name is King Pellinore of the Isles and knight of the Table Round.\nNow I am glad, said the knight, that such a noble man shall have the\nrule of my cousin. Now, what is your name? said Pellinore, I pray you\ntell me. Sir, my name is Sir Meliot of Logurs, and this lady my cousin\nhight Nimue, and the knight that was in the other pavilion is my sworn\nbrother, a passing good knight, and his name is Brian of the Isles, and\nhe is full loath to do wrong, and full loath to fight with any man, but\nif he be sore sought on, so that for shame he may not leave it. It is\nmarvel, said Pellinore, that he will not have ado with me. Sir, he will\nnot have ado with no man but if it be at his request. Bring him to the\ncourt, said Pellinore, one of these days. Sir, we will come together.\nAnd ye shall be welcome, said Pellinore, to the court of King Arthur,\nand greatly allowed for your coming. And so he departed with the lady,\nand brought her to Camelot.\nSo as they rode in a valley it was full of stones, and there the lady\u2019s\nhorse stumbled and threw her down, that her arm was sore bruised and\nnear she swooned for pain. Alas! sir, said the lady, mine arm is out of\nlithe, wherethrough I must needs rest me. Ye shall well, said King\nPellinore. And so he alighted under a fair tree where was fair grass,\nand he put his horse thereto, and so laid him under the tree and slept\ntill it was nigh night. And when he awoke he would have ridden. Sir,\nsaid the lady, it is so dark that ye may as well ride backward as\nforward. So they abode still and made there their lodging. Then Sir\nPellinore put off his armour; then a little afore midnight they heard\nthe trotting of an horse. Be ye still, said King Pellinore, for we\nshall hear of some adventure.\nCHAPTER XIV. How on the way he heard two knights, as he lay by night in\na valley, and of their adventures.\nAnd therewith he armed him. So right even afore him there met two\nknights, the one came froward Camelot, and the other from the north,\nand either saluted other. What tidings at Camelot? said the one. By my\nhead, said the other, there have I been and espied the court of King\nArthur, and there is such a fellowship they may never be broken, and\nwell-nigh all the world holdeth with Arthur, for there is the flower of\nchivalry. Now for this cause I am riding into the north, to tell our\nchieftains of the fellowship that is withholden with King Arthur. As\nfor that, said the other knight, I have brought a remedy with me, that\nis the greatest poison that ever ye heard speak of, and to Camelot will\nI with it, for we have a friend right nigh King Arthur, and well\ncherished, that shall poison King Arthur; for so he hath promised our\nchieftains, and received great gifts for to do it. Beware, said the\nother knight, of Merlin, for he knoweth all things by the devil\u2019s\ncraft. Therefore will I not let it, said the knight. And so they\ndeparted asunder. Anon after Pellinore made him ready, and his lady,\n[and] rode toward Camelot; and as they came by the well there as the\nwounded knight was and the lady, there he found the knight, and the\nlady eaten with lions or wild beasts, all save the head, wherefore he\nmade great sorrow, and wept passing sore, and said, Alas! her life\nmight I have saved; but I was so fierce in my quest, therefore I would\nnot abide. Wherefore make ye such dole? said the lady. I wot not, said\nPellinore, but my heart mourneth sore of the death of her, for she was\na passing fair lady and a young. Now, will ye do by mine advice? said\nthe lady, take this knight and let him be buried in an hermitage, and\nthen take the lady\u2019s head and bear it with you unto Arthur. So King\nPellinore took this dead knight on his shoulders, and brought him to\nthe hermitage, and charged the hermit with the corpse, that service\nshould be done for the soul; and take his harness for your pain. It\nshall be done, said the hermit, as I will answer unto God.\nCHAPTER XV. How when he was come to Camelot he was sworn upon a book to\ntell the truth of his quest.\nAnd therewith they departed, and came there as the head of the lady lay\nwith a fair yellow hair that grieved King Pellinore passingly sore when\nhe looked on it, for much he cast his heart on the visage. And so by\nnoon they came to Camelot; and the king and the queen were passing fain\nof his coming to the court. And there he was made to swear upon the\nFour Evangelists, to tell the truth of his quest from the one to the\nother. Ah! Sir Pellinore, said Queen Guenever, ye were greatly to blame\nthat ye saved not this lady\u2019s life. Madam, said Pellinore, ye were\ngreatly to blame an ye would not save your own life an ye might, but,\nsave your pleasure, I was so furious in my quest that I would not\nabide, and that repenteth me, and shall the days of my life. Truly,\nsaid Merlin, ye ought sore to repent it, for that lady was your own\ndaughter begotten on the lady of the Rule, and that knight that was\ndead was her love, and should have wedded her, and he was a right good\nknight of a young man, and would have proved a good man, and to this\ncourt was he coming, and his name was Sir Miles of the Launds, and a\nknight came behind him and slew him with a spear, and his name is\nLoraine le Savage, a false knight and a coward; and she for great\nsorrow and dole slew herself with his sword, and her name was Eleine.\nAnd because ye would not abide and help her, ye shall see your best\nfriend fail you when ye be in the greatest distress that ever ye were\nor shall be. And that penance God hath ordained you for that deed, that\nhe that ye shall most trust to of any man alive, he shall leave you\nthere ye shall be slain. Me forthinketh, said King Pellinore, that this\nshall me betide, but God may fordo well destiny.\nThus, when the quest was done of the white hart, the which followed Sir\nGawaine; and the quest of the brachet, followed of Sir Tor, Pellinore\u2019s\nson; and the quest of the lady that the knight took away, the which\nKing Pellinore at that time followed; then the king stablished all his\nknights, and them that were of lands not rich he gave them lands, and\ncharged them never to do outrageousity nor murder, and always to flee\ntreason; also, by no means to be cruel, but to give mercy unto him that\nasketh mercy, upon pain of forfeiture of their worship and lordship of\nKing Arthur for evermore; and always to do ladies, damosels, and\ngentlewomen succour, upon pain of death. Also, that no man take no\nbattles in a wrongful quarrel for no law, nor for no world\u2019s goods.\nUnto this were all the knights sworn of the Table Round, both old and\nyoung. And every year were they sworn at the high feast of Pentecost.\nExplicit the Wedding of King Arthur. Sequitur quartus liber.\nBOOK IV.\nCHAPTER I. How Merlin was assotted and doted on one of the ladies of\nthe lake, and how he was shut in a rock under a stone and there died.\nSo after these quests of Sir Gawaine, Sir Tor, and King Pellinore, it\nfell so that Merlin fell in a dotage on the damosel that King Pellinore\nbrought to court, and she was one of the damosels of the lake, that\nhight Nimue. But Merlin would let her have no rest, but always he would\nbe with her. And ever she made Merlin good cheer till she had learned\nof him all manner thing that she desired; and he was assotted upon her,\nthat he might not be from her. So on a time he told King Arthur that he\nshould not dure long, but for all his crafts he should be put in the\nearth quick. And so he told the king many things that should befall,\nbut always he warned the king to keep well his sword and the scabbard,\nfor he told him how the sword and the scabbard should be stolen by a\nwoman from him that he most trusted. Also he told King Arthur that he\nshould miss him,\u2014Yet had ye liefer than all your lands to have me\nagain. Ah, said the king, since ye know of your adventure, purvey for\nit, and put away by your crafts that misadventure. Nay, said Merlin, it\nwill not be; so he departed from the king. And within a while the\nDamosel of the Lake departed, and Merlin went with her evermore\nwheresomever she went. And ofttimes Merlin would have had her privily\naway by his subtle crafts; then she made him to swear that he should\nnever do none enchantment upon her if he would have his will. And so he\nsware; so she and Merlin went over the sea unto the land of Benwick,\nwhereas King Ban was king that had great war against King Claudas, and\nthere Merlin spake with King Ban\u2019s wife, a fair lady and a good, and\nher name was Elaine, and there he saw young Launcelot. There the queen\nmade great sorrow for the mortal war that King Claudas made on her lord\nand on her lands. Take none heaviness, said Merlin, for this same child\nwithin this twenty year shall revenge you on King Claudas, that all\nChristendom shall speak of it; and this same child shall be the most\nman of worship of the world, and his first name is Galahad, that know I\nwell, said Merlin, and since ye have confirmed him Launcelot. That is\ntruth, said the queen, his first name was Galahad. O Merlin, said the\nqueen, shall I live to see my son such a man of prowess? Yea, lady, on\nmy peril ye shall see it, and live many winters after.\nAnd so, soon after, the lady and Merlin departed, and by the way Merlin\nshowed her many wonders, and came into Cornwall. And always Merlin lay\nabout the lady to have her maidenhood, and she was ever passing weary\nof him, and fain would have been delivered of him, for she was afeard\nof him because he was a devil\u2019s son, and she could not beskift him by\nno mean. And so on a time it happed that Merlin showed to her in a rock\nwhereas was a great wonder, and wrought by enchantment, that went under\na great stone. So by her subtle working she made Merlin to go under\nthat stone to let her wit of the marvels there; but she wrought so\nthere for him that he came never out for all the craft he could do. And\nso she departed and left Merlin.\nCHAPTER II. How five kings came into this land to war against King\nArthur, and what counsel Arthur had against them.\nAnd as King Arthur rode to Camelot, and held there a great feast with\nmirth and joy, so soon after he returned unto Cardoile, and there came\nunto Arthur new tidings that the king of Denmark, and the king of\nIreland that was his brother, and the king of the Vale, and the king of\nSoleise, and the king of the Isle of Longtains, all these five kings\nwith a great host were entered into the land of King Arthur, and burnt\nand slew clean afore them, both cities and castles, that it was pity to\nhear. Alas, said Arthur, yet had I never rest one month since I was\ncrowned king of this land. Now shall I never rest till I meet with\nthose kings in a fair field, that I make mine avow; for my true liege\npeople shall not be destroyed in my default, go with me who will, and\nabide who that will. Then the king let write unto King Pellinore, and\nprayed him in all haste to make him ready with such people as he might\nlightliest rear and hie him after in all haste. All the barons were\nprivily wroth that the king would depart so suddenly; but the king by\nno mean would abide, but made writing unto them that were not there,\nand bade them hie after him, such as were not at that time in the\ncourt. Then the king came to Queen Guenever, and said, Lady, make you\nready, for ye shall go with me, for I may not long miss you; ye shall\ncause me to be the more hardy, what adventure so befall me; I will not\nwit my lady to be in no jeopardy. Sir, said she, I am at your\ncommandment, and shall be ready what time so ye be ready. So on the\nmorn the king and the queen departed with such fellowship as they had,\nand came into the north, into a forest beside Humber, and there lodged\nthem. When the word and tiding came unto the five kings above said,\nthat Arthur was beside Humber in a forest, there was a knight, brother\nunto one of the five kings, that gave them this counsel: Ye know well\nthat Sir Arthur hath the flower of chivalry of the world with him, as\nit is proved by the great battle he did with the eleven kings; and\ntherefore hie unto him night and day till that we be nigh him, for the\nlonger he tarrieth the bigger he is, and we ever the weaker; and he is\nso courageous of himself that he is come to the field with little\npeople, and therefore let us set upon him or day and we shall slay\ndown; of his knights there shall none escape.\nCHAPTER III. How King Arthur had ado with them and overthrew them, and\nslew the five kings and made the remnant to flee.\nUnto this counsel these five kings assented, and so they passed forth\nwith their host through North Wales, and came upon Arthur by night, and\nset upon his host as the king and his knights were in their pavilions.\nKing Arthur was unarmed, and had laid him to rest with his Queen\nGuenever. Sir, said Sir Kay, it is not good we be unarmed. We shall\nhave no need, said Sir Gawaine and Sir Griflet, that lay in a little\npavilion by the king. With that they heard a great noise, and many\ncried, Treason, treason! Alas, said King Arthur, we be betrayed! Unto\narms, fellows, then he cried. So they were armed anon at all points.\nThen came there a wounded knight unto the king, and said, Sir, save\nyourself and my lady the queen, for our host is destroyed, and much\npeople of ours slain. So anon the king and the queen and the three\nknights took their horses, and rode toward Humber to pass over it, and\nthe water was so rough that they were afraid to pass over. Now may ye\nchoose, said King Arthur, whether ye will abide and take the adventure\non this side, for an ye be taken they will slay you. It were me liefer,\nsaid the queen, to die in the water than to fall in your enemies\u2019 hands\nand there be slain.\nAnd as they stood so talking, Sir Kay saw the five kings coming on\nhorseback by themselves alone, with their spears in their hands even\ntoward them. Lo, said Sir Kay, yonder be the five kings; let us go to\nthem and match them. That were folly, said Sir Gawaine, for we are but\nthree and they be five. That is truth, said Sir Griflet. No force, said\nSir Kay, I will undertake for two of them, and then may ye three\nundertake for the other three. And therewithal, Sir Kay let his horse\nrun as fast as he might, and struck one of them through the shield and\nthe body a fathom, that the king fell to the earth stark dead. That saw\nSir Gawaine, and ran unto another king so hard that he smote him\nthrough the body. And therewithal King Arthur ran to another, and smote\nhim through the body with a spear, that he fell to the earth dead. Then\nSir Griflet ran unto the fourth king, and gave him such a fall that his\nneck brake. Anon Sir Kay ran unto the fifth king, and smote him so hard\non the helm that the stroke clave the helm and the head to the earth.\nThat was well stricken, said King Arthur, and worshipfully hast thou\nholden thy promise, therefore I shall honour thee while that I live.\nAnd therewithal they set the queen in a barge into Humber; but always\nQueen Guenever praised Sir Kay for his deeds, and said, What lady that\nye love, and she love you not again she were greatly to blame; and\namong ladies, said the queen, I shall bear your noble fame, for ye\nspake a great word, and fulfilled it worshipfully. And therewith the\nqueen departed.\nThen the king and the three knights rode into the forest, for there\nthey supposed to hear of them that were escaped; and there he found the\nmost part of his people, and told them all how the five kings were\ndead. And therefore let us hold us together till it be day, and when\ntheir host have espied that their chieftains be slain, they will make\nsuch dole that they shall no more help themselves. And right so as the\nking said, so it was; for when they found the five kings dead, they\nmade such dole that they fell from their horses. Therewithal came King\nArthur but with a few people, and slew on the left hand and on the\nright hand, that well-nigh there escaped no man, but all were slain to\nthe number thirty thousand. And when the battle was all ended, the king\nkneeled down and thanked God meekly. And then he sent for the queen,\nand soon she was come, and she made great joy of the overcoming of that\nbattle.\nCHAPTER IV. How the battle was finished or he came, and how King Arthur\nfounded an abbey where the battle was.\nTherewithal came one to King Arthur, and told him that King Pellinore\nwas within three mile with a great host; and he said, Go unto him, and\nlet him understand how we have sped. So within a while King Pellinore\ncame with a great host, and saluted the people and the king, and there\nwas great joy made on every side. Then the king let search how much\npeople of his party there was slain; and there were found but little\npast two hundred men slain and eight knights of the Table Round in\ntheir pavilions. Then the king let rear and devise in the same place\nwhereat the battle was done a fair abbey, and endowed it with great\nlivelihood, and let it call the Abbey of La Beale Adventure. But when\nsome of them came into their countries, whereof the five kings were\nkings, and told them how they were slain, there was made great dole.\nAnd all King Arthur\u2019s enemies, as the King of North Wales, and the\nkings of the North, [when they] wist of the battle, they were passing\nheavy. And so the king returned unto Camelot in haste.\nAnd when he was come to Camelot he called King Pellinore unto him, and\nsaid, Ye understand well that we have lost eight knights of the best of\nthe Table Round, and by your advice we will choose eight again of the\nbest we may find in this court. Sir, said Pellinore, I shall counsel\nyou after my conceit the best: there are in your court full noble\nknights both of old and young; and therefore by mine advice ye shall\nchoose half of the old and half of the young. Which be the old? said\nKing Arthur. Sir, said King Pellinore, meseemeth that King Uriens that\nhath wedded your sister Morgan le Fay, and the King of the Lake, and\nSir Hervise de Revel, a noble knight, and Sir Galagars, the fourth.\nThis is well devised, said King Arthur, and right so shall it be. Now,\nwhich are the four young knights? said Arthur. Sir, said Pellinore, the\nfirst is Sir Gawaine, your nephew, that is as good a knight of his time\nas any is in this land; and the second as meseemeth best is Sir Griflet\nle Fise de Dieu, that is a good knight and full desirous in arms, and\nwho may see him live he shall prove a good knight; and the third as\nmeseemeth is well to be one of the knights of the Round Table, Sir Kay\nthe Seneschal, for many times he hath done full worshipfully, and now\nat your last battle he did full honourably for to undertake to slay two\nkings. By my head, said Arthur, he is best worth to be a knight of the\nRound Table of any that ye have rehearsed, an he had done no more\nprowess in his life days.\nCHAPTER V. How Sir Tor was made knight of the Round Table, and how\nBagdemagus was displeased.\nNow, said King Pellinore, I shall put to you two knights, and ye shall\nchoose which is most worthy, that is Sir Bagdemagus, and Sir Tor, my\nson. But because Sir Tor is my son I may not praise him, but else, an\nhe were not my son, I durst say that of his age there is not in this\nland a better knight than he is, nor of better conditions and loath to\ndo any wrong, and loath to take any wrong. By my head, said Arthur, he\nis a passing good knight as any ye spake of this day, that wot I well,\nsaid the king; for I have seen him proved, but he saith little and he\ndoth much more, for I know none in all this court an he were as well\nborn on his mother\u2019s side as he is on your side, that is like him of\nprowess and of might: and therefore I will have him at this time, and\nleave Sir Bagdemagus till another time. So when they were so chosen by\nthe assent of all the barons, so were there found in their sieges every\nknights\u2019 names that here are rehearsed, and so were they set in their\nsieges; whereof Sir Bagdemagus was wonderly wroth, that Sir Tor was\nadvanced afore him, and therefore suddenly he departed from the court,\nand took his squire with him, and rode long in a forest till they came\nto a cross, and there alighted and said his prayers devoutly. The\nmeanwhile his squire found written upon the cross, that Bagdemagus\nshould never return unto the court again, till he had won a knight\u2019s\nbody of the Round Table, body for body. So, sir, said the squire, here\nI find writing of you, therefore I rede you return again to the court.\nThat shall I never, said Bagdemagus, till men speak of me great\nworship, and that I be worthy to be a knight of the Round Table. And so\nhe rode forth, and there by the way he found a branch of an holy herb\nthat was the sign of the Sangreal, and no knight found such tokens but\nhe were a good liver.\nSo, as Sir Bagdemagus rode to see many adventures, it happed him to\ncome to the rock whereas the Lady of the Lake had put Merlin under the\nstone, and there he heard him make great dole; whereof Sir Bagdemagus\nwould have holpen him, and went unto the great stone, and it was so\nheavy that an hundred men might not lift it up. When Merlin wist he was\nthere, he bade leave his labour, for all was in vain, for he might\nnever be holpen but by her that put him there. And so Bagdemagus\ndeparted and did many adventures, and proved after a full good knight,\nand came again to the court and was made knight of the Round Table. So\non the morn there fell new tidings and other adventures.\nCHAPTER VI. How King Arthur, King Uriens, and Sir Accolon of Gaul,\nchased an hart, and of their marvellous adventures.\nThen it befell that Arthur and many of his knights rode a-hunting into\na great forest, and it happed King Arthur, King Uriens, and Sir Accolon\nof Gaul, followed a great hart, for they three were well horsed, and so\nthey chased so fast that within a while they three were then ten mile\nfrom their fellowship. And at the last they chased so sore that they\nslew their horses underneath them. Then were they all three on foot,\nand ever they saw the hart afore them passing weary and enbushed. What\nwill we do? said King Arthur, we are hard bestead. Let us go on foot,\nsaid King Uriens, till we may meet with some lodging. Then were they\nware of the hart that lay on a great water bank, and a brachet biting\non his throat, and more other hounds came after. Then King Arthur blew\nthe prise and dight the hart.\nThen the king looked about the world, and saw afore him in a great\nwater a little ship, all apparelled with silk down to the water, and\nthe ship came right unto them and landed on the sands. Then Arthur went\nto the bank and looked in, and saw none earthly creature therein. Sirs,\nsaid the king, come thence, and let us see what is in this ship. So\nthey went in all three, and found it richly behanged with cloth of\nsilk. By then it was dark night, and there suddenly were about them an\nhundred torches set upon all the sides of the ship boards, and it gave\ngreat light; and therewithal there came out twelve fair damosels and\nsaluted King Arthur on their knees, and called him by his name, and\nsaid he was right welcome, and such cheer as they had he should have of\nthe best. The king thanked them fair. Therewithal they led the king and\nhis two fellows into a fair chamber, and there was a cloth laid, richly\nbeseen of all that longed unto a table, and there were they served of\nall wines and meats that they could think; of that the king had great\nmarvel, for he fared never better in his life as for one supper. And so\nwhen they had supped at their leisure, King Arthur was led into a\nchamber, a richer beseen chamber saw he never none, and so was King\nUriens served, and led into such another chamber, and Sir Accolon was\nled into the third chamber passing richly and well beseen; and so they\nwere laid in their beds easily. And anon they fell asleep, and slept\nmarvellously sore all the night. And on the morrow King Uriens was in\nCamelot abed in his wife\u2019s arms, Morgan le Fay. And when he awoke he\nhad great marvel, how he came there, for on the even afore he was two\ndays\u2019 journey from Camelot. And when King Arthur awoke he found himself\nin a dark prison, hearing about him many complaints of woful knights.\nCHAPTER VII. How Arthur took upon him to fight to be delivered out of\nprison, and also for to deliver twenty knights that were in prison.\nWhat are ye that so complain? said King Arthur. We be here twenty\nknights, prisoners, said they, and some of us have lain here seven\nyear, and some more and some less. For what cause? said Arthur. We\nshall tell you, said the knights; this lord of this castle, his name is\nSir Damas, and he is the falsest knight that liveth, and full of\ntreason, and a very coward as any liveth, and he hath a younger\nbrother, a good knight of prowess, his name is Sir Ontzlake; and this\ntraitor Damas, the elder brother will give him no part of his\nlivelihood, but as Sir Ontzlake keepeth thorough prowess of his hands,\nand so he keepeth from him a full fair manor and a rich, and therein\nSir Ontzlake dwelleth worshipfully, and is well beloved of all people.\nAnd this Sir Damas, our master is as evil beloved, for he is without\nmercy, and he is a coward, and great war hath been betwixt them both,\nbut Ontzlake hath ever the better, and ever he proffereth Sir Damas to\nfight for the livelihood, body for body, but he will not do; other-else\nto find a knight to fight for him. Unto that Sir Damas had granted to\nfind a knight, but he is so evil beloved and hated, that there is never\na knight will fight for him. And when Damas saw this, that there was\nnever a knight would fight for him, he hath daily lain await with many\nknights with him, and taken all the knights in this country to see and\nespy their adventures, he hath taken them by force and brought them to\nhis prison. And so he took us separately as we rode on our adventures,\nand many good knights have died in this prison for hunger, to the\nnumber of eighteen knights; and if any of us all that here is, or hath\nbeen, would have foughten with his brother Ontzlake, he would have\ndelivered us, but for because this Damas is so false and so full of\ntreason we would never fight for him to die for it. And we be so lean\nfor hunger that unnethe we may stand on our feet. God deliver you, for\nhis mercy, said Arthur.\nAnon, therewithal there came a damosel unto Arthur, and asked him, What\ncheer? I cannot say, said he. Sir, said she, an ye will fight for my\nlord, ye shall be delivered out of prison, and else ye escape never the\nlife. Now, said Arthur, that is hard, yet had I liefer to fight with a\nknight than to die in prison; with this, said Arthur, I may be\ndelivered and all these prisoners, I will do the battle. Yes, said the\ndamosel. I am ready, said Arthur, an I had horse and armour. Ye shall\nlack none, said the damosel. Meseemeth, damosel, I should have seen you\nin the court of Arthur. Nay said the damosel, I came never there, I am\nthe lord\u2019s daughter of this castle. Yet was she false, for she was one\nof the damosels of Morgan le Fay.\nAnon she went unto Sir Damas, and told him how he would do battle for\nhim, and so he sent for Arthur. And when he came he was well coloured,\nand well made of his limbs, that all knights that saw him said it were\npity that such a knight should die in prison. So Sir Damas and he were\nagreed that he should fight for him upon this covenant, that all other\nknights should be delivered; and unto that was Sir Damas sworn unto\nArthur, and also to do the battle to the uttermost. And with that all\nthe twenty knights were brought out of the dark prison into the hall,\nand delivered, and so they all abode to see the battle.\nCHAPTER VIII. How Accolon found himself by a well, and he took upon him\nto do battle against Arthur.\nNow turn we unto Accolon of Gaul, that when he awoke he found himself\nby a deep well-side, within half a foot, in great peril of death. And\nthere came out of that fountain a pipe of silver, and out of that pipe\nran water all on high in a stone of marble. When Sir Accolon saw this,\nhe blessed him and said, Jesus save my lord King Arthur, and King\nUriens, for these damosels in this ship have betrayed us, they were\ndevils and no women; and if I may escape this misadventure, I shall\ndestroy all where I may find these false damosels that use\nenchantments. Right with that there came a dwarf with a great mouth and\na flat nose, and saluted Sir Accolon, and said how he came from Queen\nMorgan le Fay, and she greeteth you well, and biddeth you be of strong\nheart, for ye shall fight to morrow with a knight at the hour of prime,\nand therefore she hath sent you here Excalibur, Arthur\u2019s sword, and the\nscabbard, and she biddeth you as ye love her, that ye do the battle to\nthe uttermost, without any mercy, like as ye had promised her when ye\nspake together in privity; and what damosel that bringeth her the\nknight\u2019s head, which ye shall fight withal, she will make her a queen.\nNow I understand you well, said Accolon, I shall hold that I have\npromised her now I have the sword: when saw ye my lady Queen Morgan le\nFay? Right late, said the dwarf. Then Accolon took him in his arms and\nsaid, Recommend me unto my lady queen, and tell her all shall be done\nthat I have promised her, and else I will die for it. Now I suppose,\nsaid Accolon, she hath made all these crafts and enchantments for this\nbattle. Ye may well believe it, said the dwarf. Right so there came a\nknight and a lady with six squires, and saluted Accolon, and prayed him\nfor to arise, and come and rest him at his manor. And so Accolon\nmounted upon a void horse, and went with the knight unto a fair manor\nby a priory, and there he had passing good cheer.\nThen Sir Damas sent unto his brother Sir Ontzlake, and bade make him\nready by to-morn at the hour of prime, and to be in the field to fight\nwith a good knight, for he had found a good knight that was ready to do\nbattle at all points. When this word came unto Sir Ontzlake he was\npassing heavy, for he was wounded a little to-fore through both his\nthighs with a spear, and made great dole; but as he was wounded, he\nwould have taken the battle on hand. So it happed at that time, by the\nmeans of Morgan le Fay, Accolon was with Sir Ontzlake lodged; and when\nhe heard of that battle, and how Ontzlake was wounded, he said that he\nwould fight for him. Because Morgan le Fay had sent him Excalibur and\nthe sheath for to fight with the knight on the morn: this was the cause\nSir Accolon took the battle on hand. Then Sir Ontzlake was passing\nglad, and thanked Sir Accolon with all his heart that he would do so\nmuch for him. And therewithal Sir Ontzlake sent word unto his brother\nSir Damas, that he had a knight that for him should be ready in the\nfield by the hour of prime.\nSo on the morn Sir Arthur was armed and well horsed, and asked Sir\nDamas, When shall we to the field? Sir, said Sir Damas, ye shall hear\nmass. And so Arthur heard a mass, and when mass was done there came a\nsquire on a great horse, and asked Sir Damas if his knight were ready,\nfor our knight is ready in the field. Then Sir Arthur mounted upon\nhorseback, and there were all the knights and commons of that country;\nand so by all advices there were chosen twelve good men of the country\nfor to wait upon the two knights. And right as Arthur was on horseback\nthere came a damosel from Morgan le Fay, and brought unto Sir Arthur a\nsword like unto Excalibur, and the scabbard, and said unto Arthur,\nMorgan le Fay sendeth here your sword for great love. And he thanked\nher, and weened it had been so, but she was false, for the sword and\nthe scabbard was counterfeit, and brittle, and false.\nCHAPTER IX. Of the battle between King Arthur and Accolon.\nAnd then they dressed them on both parties of the field, and let their\nhorses run so fast that either smote other in the midst of the shield\nwith their spear-heads, that both horse and man went to the earth; and\nthen they started up both, and pulled out their swords. The meanwhile\nthat they were thus at the battle, came the Damosel of the Lake into\nthe field, that put Merlin under the stone; and she came thither for\nlove of King Arthur, for she knew how Morgan le Fay had so ordained\nthat King Arthur should have been slain that day, and therefore she\ncame to save his life. And so they went eagerly to the battle, and gave\nmany great strokes, but always Arthur\u2019s sword bit not like Accolon\u2019s\nsword; but for the most part, every stroke that Accolon gave he wounded\nsore Arthur, that it was marvel he stood, and always his blood fell\nfrom him fast.\nWhen Arthur beheld the ground so sore be-bled he was dismayed, and then\nhe deemed treason that his sword was changed; for his sword bit not\nsteel as it was wont to do, therefore he dreaded him sore to be dead,\nfor ever him seemed that the sword in Accolon\u2019s hand was Excalibur, for\nat every stroke that Accolon struck he drew blood on Arthur. Now,\nknight, said Accolon unto Arthur, keep thee well from me; but Arthur\nanswered not again, and gave him such a buffet on the helm that it made\nhim to stoop, nigh falling down to the earth. Then Sir Accolon withdrew\nhim a little, and came on with Excalibur on high, and smote Sir Arthur\nsuch a buffet that he fell nigh to the earth. Then were they wroth\nboth, and gave each other many sore strokes, but always Sir Arthur lost\nso much blood that it was marvel he stood on his feet, but he was so\nfull of knighthood that knightly he endured the pain. And Sir Accolon\nlost not a deal of blood, therefore he waxed passing light, and Sir\nArthur was passing feeble, and weened verily to have died; but for all\nthat he made countenance as though he might endure, and held Accolon as\nshort as he might. But Accolon was so bold because of Excalibur that he\nwaxed passing hardy. But all men that beheld him said they saw never\nknight fight so well as Arthur did considering the blood that he bled.\nSo was all the people sorry for him, but the two brethren would not\naccord. Then always they fought together as fierce knights, and Sir\nArthur withdrew him a little for to rest him, and Sir Accolon called\nhim to battle and said, It is no time for me to suffer thee to rest.\nAnd therewith he came fiercely upon Arthur, and Sir Arthur was wroth\nfor the blood that he had lost, and smote Accolon on high upon the\nhelm, so mightily, that he made him nigh to fall to the earth; and\ntherewith Arthur\u2019s sword brast at the cross, and fell in the grass\namong the blood, and the pommel and the sure handles he held in his\nhands. When Sir Arthur saw that, he was in great fear to die, but\nalways he held up his shield and lost no ground, nor bated no cheer.\nCHAPTER X. How King Arthur\u2019s sword that he fought with brake, and how\nhe recovered of Accolon his own sword Excalibur, and overcame his\nenemy.\nThen Sir Accolon began with words of treason, and said, Knight, thou\nart overcome, and mayst not endure, and also thou art weaponless, and\nthou hast lost much of thy blood, and I am full loath to slay thee,\ntherefore yield thee to me as recreant. Nay, said Sir Arthur, I may not\nso, for I have promised to do the battle to the uttermost by the faith\nof my body, while me lasteth the life, and therefore I had liefer to\ndie with honour than to live with shame; and if it were possible for me\nto die an hundred times, I had liefer to die so oft than yield me to\nthee; for though I lack weapon, I shall lack no worship, and if thou\nslay me weaponless that shall be thy shame. Well, said Accolon, as for\nthe shame I will not spare, now keep thee from me, for thou art but a\ndead man. And therewith Accolon gave him such a stroke that he fell\nnigh to the earth, and would have had Arthur to have cried him mercy.\nBut Sir Arthur pressed unto Accolon with his shield, and gave him with\nthe pommel in his hand such a buffet that he went three strides aback.\nWhen the Damosel of the Lake beheld Arthur, how full of prowess his\nbody was, and the false treason that was wrought for him to have had\nhim slain, she had great pity that so good a knight and such a man of\nworship should so be destroyed. And at the next stroke Sir Accolon\nstruck him such a stroke that by the damosel\u2019s enchantment the sword\nExcalibur fell out of Accolon\u2019s hand to the earth. And therewithal Sir\nArthur lightly leapt to it, and gat it in his hand, and forthwithal he\nknew that it was his sword Excalibur, and said, Thou hast been from me\nall too long, and much damage hast thou done me; and therewith he\nespied the scabbard hanging by his side, and suddenly he sterte to him\nand pulled the scabbard from him, and threw it from him as far as he\nmight throw it. O knight, said Arthur, this day hast thou done me great\ndamage with this sword; now are ye come unto your death, for I shall\nnot warrant you but ye shall as well be rewarded with this sword, or\never we depart, as thou hast rewarded me; for much pain have ye made me\nto endure, and much blood have I lost. And therewith Sir Arthur rushed\non him with all his might and pulled him to the earth, and then rushed\noff his helm, and gave him such a buffet on the head that the blood\ncame out at his ears, his nose, and his mouth. Now will I slay thee,\nsaid Arthur. Slay me ye may well, said Accolon, an it please you, for\nye are the best knight that ever I found, and I see well that God is\nwith you. But for I promised to do this battle, said Accolon, to the\nuttermost, and never to be recreant while I lived, therefore shall I\nnever yield me with my mouth, but God do with my body what he will.\nThen Sir Arthur remembered him, and thought he should have seen this\nknight. Now tell me, said Arthur, or I will slay thee, of what country\nart thou, and of what court? Sir Knight, said Sir Accolon, I am of the\ncourt of King Arthur, and my name is Accolon of Gaul. Then was Arthur\nmore dismayed than he was beforehand; for then he remembered him of his\nsister Morgan le Fay, and of the enchantment of the ship. O sir knight,\nsaid he, I pray you tell me who gave you this sword, and by whom ye had\nit.\nCHAPTER XI. How Accolon confessed the treason of Morgan le Fay, King\nArthur\u2019s sister, and how she would have done slay him.\nThen Sir Accolon bethought him, and said, Woe worth this sword, for by\nit have I got my death. It may well be, said the king. Now, sir, said\nAccolon, I will tell you; this sword hath been in my keeping the most\npart of this twelvemonth; and Morgan le Fay, King Uriens\u2019 wife, sent it\nme yesterday by a dwarf, to this intent, that I should slay King\nArthur, her brother. For ye shall understand King Arthur is the man in\nthe world that she most hateth, because he is most of worship and of\nprowess of any of her blood; also she loveth me out of measure as\nparamour, and I her again; and if she might bring about to slay Arthur\nby her crafts, she would slay her husband King Uriens lightly, and then\nhad she me devised to be king in this land, and so to reign, and she to\nbe my queen; but that is now done, said Accolon, for I am sure of my\ndeath. Well, said Sir Arthur, I feel by you ye would have been king in\nthis land. It had been great damage to have destroyed your lord, said\nArthur. It is truth, said Accolon, but now I have told you truth,\nwherefore I pray you tell me of whence ye are, and of what court? O\nAccolon, said King Arthur, now I let thee wit that I am King Arthur, to\nwhom thou hast done great damage. When Accolon heard that he cried\naloud, Fair, sweet lord, have mercy on me, for I knew not you. O Sir\nAccolon, said King Arthur, mercy shalt thou have, because I feel by thy\nwords at this time thou knewest not my person; but I understand well by\nthy words that thou hast agreed to the death of my person, and\ntherefore thou art a traitor; but I wite thee the less, for my sister\nMorgan le Fay by her false crafts made thee to agree and consent to her\nfalse lusts, but I shall be sore avenged upon her an I live, that all\nChristendom shall speak of it; God knoweth I have honoured her and\nworshipped her more than all my kin, and more have I trusted her than\nmine own wife and all my kin after.\nThen Sir Arthur called the keepers of the field, and said, Sirs, come\nhither, for here are we two knights that have fought unto a great\ndamage unto us both, and like each one of us to have slain other, if it\nhad happed so; and had any of us known other, here had been no battle,\nnor stroke stricken. Then all aloud cried Accolon unto all the knights\nand men that were then there gathered together, and said to them in\nthis manner, O lords, this noble knight that I have fought withal, the\nwhich me sore repenteth, is the most man of prowess, of manhood, and of\nworship in the world, for it is himself King Arthur, our alther liege\nlord, and with mishap and with misadventure have I done this battle\nwith the king and lord that I am holden withal.\nCHAPTER XII. How Arthur accorded the two brethren, and delivered the\ntwenty knights, and how Sir Accolon died.\nThen all the people fell down on their knees and cried King Arthur\nmercy. Mercy shall ye have, said Arthur: here may ye see what\nadventures befall ofttime of errant knights, how that I have fought\nwith a knight of mine own unto my great damage and his both. But, sirs,\nbecause I am sore hurt, and he both, and I had great need of a little\nrest, ye shall understand the opinion betwixt you two brethren: As to\nthee, Sir Damas, for whom I have been champion and won the field of\nthis knight, yet will I judge because ye, Sir Damas, are called an\norgulous knight, and full of villainy, and not worth of prowess your\ndeeds, therefore I will that ye give unto your brother all the whole\nmanor with the appurtenance, under this form, that Sir Ontzlake hold\nthe manor of you, and yearly to give you a palfrey to ride upon, for\nthat will become you better to ride on than upon a courser. Also I\ncharge thee, Sir Damas, upon pain of death, that thou never distress no\nknights errant that ride on their adventure. And also that thou restore\nthese twenty knights that thou hast long kept prisoners, of all their\nharness, that they be content for; and if any of them come to my court\nand complain of thee, by my head thou shalt die therefore. Also, Sir\nOntzlake, as to you, because ye are named a good knight, and full of\nprowess, and true and gentle in all your deeds, this shall be your\ncharge I will give you, that in all goodly haste ye come unto me and my\ncourt, and ye shall be a knight of mine, and if your deeds be\nthereafter I shall so prefer you, by the grace of God, that ye shall in\nshort time be in ease for to live as worshipfully as your brother Sir\nDamas. God thank your largeness of your goodness and of your bounty, I\nshall be from henceforward at all times at your commandment; for, sir,\nsaid Sir Ontzlake, as God would, as I was hurt but late with an\nadventurous knight through both my thighs, that grieved me sore, and\nelse had I done this battle with you. God would, said Arthur, it had\nbeen so, for then had not I been hurt as I am. I shall tell you the\ncause why: for I had not been hurt as I am, had it not been mine own\nsword, that was stolen from me by treason; and this battle was ordained\naforehand to have slain me, and so it was brought to the purpose by\nfalse treason, and by false enchantment. Alas, said Sir Ontzlake, that\nis great pity that ever so noble a man as ye are of your deeds and\nprowess, that any man or woman might find in their hearts to work any\ntreason against you. I shall reward them, said Arthur, in short time,\nby the grace of God. Now, tell me, said Arthur, how far am I from\nCamelot? Sir, ye are two days\u2019 journey therefrom. I would fain be at\nsome place of worship, said Sir Arthur, that I might rest me. Sir, said\nSir Ontzlake, hereby is a rich abbey of your elders\u2019 foundation, of\nnuns, but three miles hence. So the king took his leave of all the\npeople, and mounted upon horseback, and Sir Accolon with him. And when\nthey were come to the abbey, he let fetch leeches and search his wounds\nand Accolon\u2019s both; but Sir Accolon died within four days, for he had\nbled so much blood that he might not live, but King Arthur was well\nrecovered. So when Accolon was dead he let send him on an horse-bier\nwith six knights unto Camelot, and said: Bear him to my sister Morgan\nle Fay, and say that I send her him to a present, and tell her I have\nmy sword Excalibur and the scabbard; so they departed with the body.\nCHAPTER XIII. How Morgan would have slain Sir Uriens her husband, and\nhow Sir Uwaine her son saved him.\nThe meanwhile Morgan le Fay had weened King Arthur had been dead. So on\na day she espied King Uriens lay in his bed sleeping. Then she called\nunto her a maiden of her counsel, and said, Go fetch me my lord\u2019s\nsword, for I saw never better time to slay him than now. O madam, said\nthe damosel, an ye slay my lord ye can never escape. Care not you, said\nMorgan le Fay, for now I see my time in the which it is best to do it,\nand therefore hie thee fast and fetch me the sword. Then the damosel\ndeparted, and found Sir Uwaine sleeping upon a bed in another chamber,\nso she went unto Sir Uwaine, and awaked him, and bade him, Arise, and\nwait on my lady your mother, for she will slay the king your father\nsleeping in his bed, for I go to fetch his sword. Well, said Sir\nUwaine, go on your way, and let me deal. Anon the damosel brought\nMorgan the sword with quaking hands, and she lightly took the sword,\nand pulled it out, and went boldly unto the bed\u2019s side, and awaited how\nand where she might slay him best. And as she lifted up the sword to\nsmite, Sir Uwaine leapt unto his mother, and caught her by the hand,\nand said, Ah, fiend, what wilt thou do? An thou wert not my mother,\nwith this sword I should smite off thy head. Ah, said Sir Uwaine, men\nsaith that Merlin was begotten of a devil, but I may say an earthly\ndevil bare me. O fair son, Uwaine, have mercy upon me, I was tempted\nwith a devil, wherefore I cry thee mercy; I will never more do so; and\nsave my worship and discover me not. On this covenant, said Sir Uwaine,\nI will forgive it you, so ye will never be about to do such deeds. Nay,\nson, said she, and that I make you assurance.\nCHAPTER XIV. How Queen Morgan le Fay made great sorrow for the death of\nAccolon, and how she stole away the scabbard from Arthur.\nThen came tidings unto Morgan le Fay that Accolon was dead, and his\nbody brought unto the church, and how King Arthur had his sword again.\nBut when Queen Morgan wist that Accolon was dead, she was so sorrowful\nthat near her heart to-brast. But because she would not it were known,\noutward she kept her countenance, and made no semblant of sorrow. But\nwell she wist an she abode till her brother Arthur came thither, there\nshould no gold go for her life.\nThen she went unto Queen Guenever, and asked her leave to ride into the\ncountry. Ye may abide, said Queen Guenever, till your brother the king\ncome home. I may not, said Morgan le Fay, for I have such hasty\ntidings, that I may not tarry. Well, said Guenever, ye may depart when\nye will. So early on the morn, or it was day, she took her horse and\nrode all that day and most part of the night, and on the morn by noon\nshe came to the same abbey of nuns whereas lay King Arthur; and she\nknowing he was there, she asked where he was. And they answered how he\nhad laid him in his bed to sleep, for he had had but little rest these\nthree nights. Well, said she, I charge you that none of you awake him\ntill I do, and then she alighted off her horse, and thought for to\nsteal away Excalibur his sword, and so she went straight unto his\nchamber, and no man durst disobey her commandment, and there she found\nArthur asleep in his bed, and Excalibur in his right hand naked. When\nshe saw that she was passing heavy that she might not come by the sword\nwithout she had awaked him, and then she wist well she had been dead.\nThen she took the scabbard and went her way on horseback. When the king\nawoke and missed his scabbard, he was wroth, and he asked who had been\nthere, and they said his sister, Queen Morgan had been there, and had\nput the scabbard under her mantle and was gone. Alas, said Arthur,\nfalsely ye have watched me. Sir, said they all, we durst not disobey\nyour sister\u2019s commandment. Ah, said the king, let fetch the best horse\nmay be found, and bid Sir Ontzlake arm him in all haste, and take\nanother good horse and ride with me. So anon the king and Ontzlake were\nwell armed, and rode after this lady, and so they came by a cross and\nfound a cowherd, and they asked the poor man if there came any lady\nriding that way. Sir, said this poor man, right late came a lady riding\nwith a forty horses, and to yonder forest she rode. Then they spurred\ntheir horses, and followed fast, and within a while Arthur had a sight\nof Morgan le Fay; then he chased as fast as he might. When she espied\nhim following her, she rode a greater pace through the forest till she\ncame to a plain, and when she saw she might not escape, she rode unto a\nlake thereby, and said, Whatsoever come of me, my brother shall not\nhave this scabbard. And then she let throw the scabbard in the deepest\nof the water so it sank, for it was heavy of gold and precious stones.\nThen she rode into a valley where many great stones were, and when she\nsaw she must be overtaken, she shaped herself, horse and man, by\nenchantment unto a great marble stone. Anon withal came Sir Arthur and\nSir Ontzlake whereas the king might know his sister and her men, and\none knight from another. Ah, said the king, here may ye see the\nvengeance of God, and now am I sorry that this misadventure is\nbefallen. And then he looked for the scabbard, but it would not be\nfound, so he returned to the abbey where he came from. So when Arthur\nwas gone she turned all into the likeliness as she and they were\nbefore, and said, Sirs, now may we go where we will.\nCHAPTER XV. How Morgan le Fay saved a knight that should have been\ndrowned, and how King Arthur returned home again.\nThen said Morgan, Saw ye Arthur, my brother? Yea, said her knights,\nright well, and that ye should have found an we might have stirred from\none stead, for by his armyvestal countenance he would have caused us to\nhave fled. I believe you, said Morgan. Anon after as she rode she met a\nknight leading another knight on his horse before him, bound hand and\nfoot, blindfold, to have drowned him in a fountain. When she saw this\nknight so bound, she asked him, What will ye do with that knight? Lady,\nsaid he, I will drown him. For what cause? she asked. For I found him\nwith my wife, and she shall have the same death anon. That were pity,\nsaid Morgan le Fay. Now, what say ye, knight, is it truth that he saith\nof you? she said to the knight that should be drowned. Nay truly,\nmadam, he saith not right on me. Of whence be ye, said Morgan le Fay,\nand of what country? I am of the court of King Arthur, and my name is\nManassen, cousin unto Accolon of Gaul. Ye say well, said she, and for\nthe love of him ye shall be delivered, and ye shall have your adversary\nin the same case ye be in. So Manassen was loosed and the other knight\nbound. And anon Manassen unarmed him, and armed himself in his harness,\nand so mounted on horseback, and the knight afore him, and so threw him\ninto the fountain and drowned him. And then he rode unto Morgan again,\nand asked if she would anything unto King Arthur. Tell him that I\nrescued thee, not for the love of him but for the love of Accolon, and\ntell him I fear him not while I can make me and them that be with me in\nlikeness of stones; and let him wit I can do much more when I see my\ntime. And so she departed into the country of Gore, and there was she\nrichly received, and made her castles and towns passing strong, for\nalways she dreaded much King Arthur.\nWhen the king had well rested him at the abbey, he rode unto Camelot,\nand found his queen and his barons right glad of his coming. And when\nthey heard of his strange adventures as is afore rehearsed, then all\nhad marvel of the falsehood of Morgan le Fay; many knights wished her\nburnt. Then came Manassen to court and told the king of his adventure.\nWell, said the king, she is a kind sister; I shall so be avenged on her\nan I live, that all Christendom shall speak of it. So on the morn there\ncame a damosel from Morgan to the king, and she brought with her the\nrichest mantle that ever was seen in that court, for it was set as full\nof precious stones as one might stand by another, and there were the\nrichest stones that ever the king saw. And the damosel said, Your\nsister sendeth you this mantle, and desireth that ye should take this\ngift of her; and in what thing she hath offended you, she will amend it\nat your own pleasure. When the king beheld this mantle it pleased him\nmuch, but he said but little.\nCHAPTER XVI. How the Damosel of the Lake saved King Arthur from mantle\nthat should have burnt him.\nWith that came the Damosel of the Lake unto the king, and said, Sir, I\nmust speak with you in privity. Say on, said the king, what ye will.\nSir, said the damosel, put not on you this mantle till ye have seen\nmore, and in no wise let it not come on you, nor on no knight of yours,\ntill ye command the bringer thereof to put it upon her. Well, said King\nArthur, it shall be done as ye counsel me. And then he said unto the\ndamosel that came from his sister, Damosel, this mantle that ye have\nbrought me, I will see it upon you. Sir, she said, It will not beseem\nme to wear a king\u2019s garment. By my head, said Arthur, ye shall wear it\nor it come on my back, or any man\u2019s that here is. And so the king made\nit to be put upon her, and forth withal she fell down dead, and never\nmore spake word after and burnt to coals. Then was the king wonderly\nwroth, more than he was to-forehand, and said unto King Uriens, My\nsister, your wife, is alway about to betray me, and well I wot either\nye, or my nephew, your son, is of counsel with her to have me\ndestroyed; but as for you, said the king to King Uriens, I deem not\ngreatly that ye be of her counsel, for Accolon confessed to me by his\nown mouth, that she would have destroyed you as well as me, therefore I\nhold you excused; but as for your son, Sir Uwaine, I hold him suspect,\ntherefore I charge you put him out of my court. So Sir Uwaine was\ndischarged. And when Sir Gawaine wist that, he made him ready to go\nwith him; and said, Whoso banisheth my cousin-germain shall banish me.\nSo they two departed, and rode into a great forest, and so they came to\nan abbey of monks, and there were well lodged. But when the king wist\nthat Sir Gawaine was departed from the court, there was made great\nsorrow among all the estates. Now, said Gaheris, Gawaine\u2019s brother, we\nhave lost two good knights for the love of one. So on the morn they\nheard their masses in the abbey, and so they rode forth till that they\ncame to a great forest. Then was Sir Gawaine ware in a valley by a\nturret [of] twelve fair damosels, and two knights armed on great\nhorses, and the damosels went to and fro by a tree. And then was Sir\nGawaine ware how there hung a white shield on that tree, and ever as\nthe damosels came by it they spit upon it, and some threw mire upon the\nshield.\nCHAPTER XVII. How Sir Gawaine and Sir Uwaine met with twelve fair\ndamosels, and how they complained on Sir Marhaus.\nThen Sir Gawaine and Sir Uwaine went and saluted them, and asked why\nthey did that despite to the shield. Sir, said the damosels, we shall\ntell you. There is a knight in this country that owneth this white\nshield, and he is a passing good man of his hands, but he hateth all\nladies and gentlewomen, and therefore we do all this despite to the\nshield. I shall say you, said Sir Gawaine, it beseemeth evil a good\nknight to despise all ladies and gentlewomen, and peradventure though\nhe hate you he hath some certain cause, and peradventure he loveth in\nsome other places ladies and gentlewomen, and to be loved again, an he\nbe such a man of prowess as ye speak of. Now, what is his name? Sir,\nsaid they, his name is Marhaus, the king\u2019s son of Ireland. I know him\nwell, said Sir Uwaine, he is a passing good knight as any is alive, for\nI saw him once proved at a jousts where many knights were gathered, and\nthat time there might no man withstand him. Ah! said Sir Gawaine,\ndamosels, methinketh ye are to blame, for it is to suppose, he that\nhung that shield there, he will not be long therefrom, and then may\nthose knights match him on horseback, and that is more your worship\nthan thus; for I will abide no longer to see a knight\u2019s shield\ndishonoured. And therewith Sir Uwaine and Gawaine departed a little\nfrom them, and then were they ware where Sir Marhaus came riding on a\ngreat horse straight toward them. And when the twelve damosels saw Sir\nMarhaus they fled into the turret as they were wild, so that some of\nthem fell by the way. Then the one of the knights of the tower dressed\nhis shield, and said on high, Sir Marhaus, defend thee. And so they ran\ntogether that the knight brake his spear on Marhaus, and Marhaus smote\nhim so hard that he brake his neck and the horse\u2019s back. That saw the\nother knight of the turret, and dressed him toward Marhaus, and they\nmet so eagerly together that the knight of the turret was soon smitten\ndown, horse and man, stark dead.\nCHAPTER XVIII. How Sir Marhaus jousted with Sir Gawaine and Sir Uwaine,\nand overthrew them both.\nAnd then Sir Marhaus rode unto his shield, and saw how it was defouled,\nand said, Of this despite I am a part avenged, but for her love that\ngave me this white shield I shall wear thee, and hang mine where thou\nwast; and so he hanged it about his neck. Then he rode straight unto\nSir Gawaine and to Sir Uwaine, and asked them what they did there? They\nanswered him that they came from King Arthur\u2019s court to see adventures.\nWell, said Sir Marhaus, here am I ready, an adventurous knight that\nwill fulfil any adventure that ye will desire; and so departed from\nthem, to fetch his range. Let him go, said Sir Uwaine unto Sir Gawaine,\nfor he is a passing good knight as any is living; I would not by my\nwill that any of us were matched with him. Nay, said Sir Gawaine, not\nso, it were shame to us were he not assayed, were he never so good a\nknight. Well, said Sir Uwaine, I will assay him afore you, for I am\nmore weaker than ye, and if he smite me down then may ye revenge me. So\nthese two knights came together with great raundon, that Sir Uwaine\nsmote Sir Marhaus that his spear brast in pieces on the shield, and Sir\nMarhaus smote him so sore that horse and man he bare to the earth, and\nhurt Sir Uwaine on the left side.\nThen Sir Marhaus turned his horse and rode toward Gawaine with his\nspear, and when Sir Gawaine saw that he dressed his shield, and they\naventred their spears, and they came together with all the might of\ntheir horses, that either knight smote other so hard in midst of their\nshields, but Sir Gawaine\u2019s spear brake, but Sir Marhaus\u2019 spear held;\nand therewith Sir Gawaine and his horse rushed down to the earth. And\nlightly Sir Gawaine rose on his feet, and pulled out his sword, and\ndressed him toward Sir Marhaus on foot, and Sir Marhaus saw that, and\npulled out his sword and began to come to Sir Gawaine on horseback. Sir\nknight, said Sir Gawaine, alight on foot, or else I will slay thy\nhorse. Gramercy, said Sir Marhaus, of your gentleness ye teach me\ncourtesy, for it is not for one knight to be on foot, and the other on\nhorseback. And therewith Sir Marhaus set his spear against a tree and\nalighted and tied his horse to a tree, and dressed his shield, and\neither came unto other eagerly, and smote together with their swords\nthat their shields flew in cantels, and they bruised their helms and\ntheir hauberks, and wounded either other. But Sir Gawaine from it\npassed nine of the clock waxed ever stronger and stronger, for then it\ncame to the hour of noon, and thrice his might was increased. All this\nespied Sir Marhaus and had great wonder how his might increased, and so\nthey wounded other passing sore. And then when it was past noon, and\nwhen it drew toward evensong, Sir Gawaine\u2019s strength feebled, and waxed\npassing faint that unnethes he might dure any longer, and Sir Marhaus\nwas then bigger and bigger. Sir knight, said Sir Marhaus, I have well\nfelt that ye are a passing good knight and a marvellous man of might as\never I felt any, while it lasteth, and our quarrels are not great, and\ntherefore it were pity to do you hurt, for I feel ye are passing\nfeeble. Ah, said Sir Gawaine, gentle knight, ye say the word that I\nshould say. And therewith they took off their helms, and either kissed\nother, and there they swore together either to love other as brethren.\nAnd Sir Marhaus prayed Sir Gawaine to lodge with him that night. And so\nthey took their horses, and rode toward Sir Marhaus\u2019 house. And as they\nrode by the way, Sir knight, said Sir Gawaine, I have marvel that so\nvaliant a man as ye be love no ladies nor damosels. Sir, said Sir\nMarhaus, they name me wrongfully those that give me that name, but well\nI wot it be the damosels of the turret that so name me, and other such\nas they be. Now shall I tell you for what cause I hate them: for they\nbe sorceresses and enchanters many of them, and be a knight never so\ngood of his body and full of prowess as man may be, they will make him\na stark coward to have the better of him, and this is the principal\ncause that I hate them; and to all good ladies and gentlewomen I owe my\nservice as a knight ought to do.\nAs the book rehearseth in French, there were many knights that\novermatched Sir Gawaine, for all the thrice might that he had: Sir\nLauncelot de Lake, Sir Tristram, Sir Bors de Ganis, Sir Percivale, Sir\nPelleas, and Sir Marhaus, these six knights had the better of Sir\nGawaine. Then within a little while they came to Sir Marhaus\u2019 place,\nwhich was in a little priory, and there they alighted, and ladies and\ndamosels unarmed them, and hastily looked to their hurts, for they were\nall three hurt. And so they had all three good lodging with Sir\nMarhaus, and good cheer; for when he wist that they were King Arthur\u2019s\nsister\u2019s sons he made them all the cheer that lay in his power, and so\nthey sojourned there a sennight, and were well eased of their wounds,\nand at the last departed. Now, said Sir Marhaus, we will not depart so\nlightly, for I will bring you through the forest; and rode day by day\nwell a seven days or they found any adventure. At the last they came\ninto a great forest, that was named the country and forest of Arroy,\nand the country of strange adventures. In this country, said Sir\nMarhaus, came never knight since it was christened but he found strange\nadventures; and so they rode, and came into a deep valley full of\nstones, and thereby they saw a fair stream of water; above thereby was\nthe head of the stream a fair fountain, and three damosels sitting\nthereby. And then they rode to them, and either saluted other, and the\neldest had a garland of gold about her head, and she was three score\nwinter of age or more, and her hair was white under the garland. The\nsecond damosel was of thirty winter of age, with a circlet of gold\nabout her head. The third damosel was but fifteen year of age, and a\ngarland of flowers about her head. When these knights had so beheld\nthem, they asked them the cause why they sat at that fountain? We be\nhere, said the damosels, for this cause: if we may see any errant\nknights, to teach them unto strange adventures; and ye be three knights\nthat seek adventures, and we be three damosels, and therefore each one\nof you must choose one of us; and when ye have done so we will lead you\nunto three highways, and there each of you shall choose a way and his\ndamosel with him. And this day twelvemonth ye must meet here again, and\nGod send you your lives, and thereto ye must plight your troth. This is\nwell said, said Sir Marhaus.\nCHAPTER XIX. How Sir Marhaus, Sir Gawaine, and Sir Uwaine met three\ndamosels, and each of them took one.\nNow shall everych of us choose a damosel. I shall tell you, said Sir\nUwaine, I am the youngest and most weakest of you both, therefore I\nwill have the eldest damosel, for she hath seen much, and can best help\nme when I have need, for I have most need of help of you both. Now,\nsaid Sir Marhaus, I will have the damosel of thirty winter age, for she\nfalleth best to me. Well, said Sir Gawaine, I thank you, for ye have\nleft me the youngest and the fairest, and she is most liefest to me.\nThen every damosel took her knight by the reins of his bridle, and\nbrought him to the three ways, and there was their oath made to meet at\nthe fountain that day twelvemonth an they were living, and so they\nkissed and departed, and each knight set his lady behind him. And Sir\nUwaine took the way that lay west, and Sir Marhaus took the way that\nlay south, and Sir Gawaine took the way that lay north. Now will we\nbegin at Sir Gawaine, that held that way till that he came unto a fair\nmanor, where dwelled an old knight and a good householder, and there\nSir Gawaine asked the knight if he knew any adventures in that country.\nI shall show you some to-morn, said the old knight, and that\nmarvellous. So, on the morn they rode into the forest of adventures to\na laund, and thereby they found a cross, and as they stood and hoved\nthere came by them the fairest knight and the seemliest man that ever\nthey saw, making the greatest dole that ever man made. And then he was\nware of Sir Gawaine, and saluted him, and prayed God to send him much\nworship. As to that, said Sir Gawaine, gramercy; also I pray to God\nthat he send you honour and worship. Ah, said the knight, I may lay\nthat aside, for sorrow and shame cometh to me after worship.\nCHAPTER XX. How a knight and a dwarf strove for a lady.\nAnd therewith he passed unto the one side of the laund; and on the\nother side saw Sir Gawaine ten knights that hoved still and made them\nready with their shields and spears against that one knight that came\nby Sir Gawaine.\nThen this one knight aventred a great spear, and one of the ten knights\nencountered with him, but this woful knight smote him so hard that he\nfell over his horse\u2019s tail. So this same dolorous knight served them\nall, that at the leastway he smote down horse and man, and all he did\nwith one spear; and so when they were all ten on foot, they went to\nthat one knight, and he stood stone still, and suffered them to pull\nhim down off his horse, and bound him hand and foot, and tied him under\nthe horse\u2019s belly, and so led him with them. O Jesu! said Sir Gawaine,\nthis is a doleful sight, to see the yonder knight so to be entreated,\nand it seemeth by the knight that he suffereth them to bind him so, for\nhe maketh no resistance. No, said his host, that is truth, for an he\nwould they all were too weak so to do him. Sir, said the damosel unto\nSir Gawaine, meseemeth it were your worship to help that dolorous\nknight, for methinketh he is one of the best knights that ever I saw. I\nwould do for him, said Sir Gawaine, but it seemeth he will have no\nhelp. Then, said the damosel, methinketh ye have no lust to help him.\nThus as they talked they saw a knight on the other side of the laund\nall armed save the head. And on the other side there came a dwarf on\nhorseback all armed save the head, with a great mouth and a short nose;\nand when the dwarf came nigh he said, Where is the lady should meet us\nhere? and therewithal she came forth out of the wood. And then they\nbegan to strive for the lady; for the knight said he would have her,\nand the dwarf said he would have her. Will we do well? said the dwarf;\nyonder is a knight at the cross, let us put it both upon him, and as he\ndeemeth so shall it be. I will well, said the knight, and so they went\nall three unto Sir Gawaine and told him wherefore they strove. Well,\nsirs, said he, will ye put the matter in my hand? Yea, they said both.\nNow damosel, said Sir Gawaine, ye shall stand betwixt them both, and\nwhether ye list better to go to, he shall have you. And when she was\nset between them both, she left the knight and went to the dwarf, and\nthe dwarf took her and went his way singing, and the knight went his\nway with great mourning.\nThen came there two knights all armed, and cried on high, Sir Gawaine!\nknight of King Arthur\u2019s, make thee ready in all haste and joust with\nme. So they ran together, that either fell down, and then on foot they\ndrew their swords, and did full actually. The meanwhile the other\nknight went to the damosel, and asked her why she abode with that\nknight, and if ye would abide with me, I will be your faithful knight.\nAnd with you will I be, said the damosel, for with Sir Gawaine I may\nnot find in mine heart to be with him; for now here was one knight\ndiscomfited ten knights, and at the last he was cowardly led away; and\ntherefore let us two go whilst they fight. And Sir Gawaine fought with\nthat other knight long, but at the last they accorded both. And then\nthe knight prayed Sir Gawaine to lodge with him that night. So as Sir\nGawaine went with this knight he asked him, What knight is he in this\ncountry that smote down the ten knights? For when he had done so\nmanfully he suffered them to bind him hand and foot, and so led him\naway. Ah, said the knight, that is the best knight I trow in the world,\nand the most man of prowess, and he hath been served so as he was even\nmore than ten times, and his name hight Sir Pelleas, and he loveth a\ngreat lady in this country and her name is Ettard. And so when he loved\nher there was cried in this country a great jousts three days, and all\nthe knights of this country were there and gentlewomen, and who that\nproved him the best knight should have a passing good sword and a\ncirclet of gold, and the circlet the knight should give it to the\nfairest lady that was at the jousts. And this knight Sir Pelleas was\nthe best knight that was there, and there were five hundred knights,\nbut there was never man that ever Sir Pelleas met withal but he struck\nhim down, or else from his horse; and every day of three days he struck\ndown twenty knights, therefore they gave him the prize, and forthwithal\nhe went thereas the Lady Ettard was, and gave her the circlet, and said\nopenly she was the fairest lady that there was, and that would he prove\nupon any knight that would say nay.\nCHAPTER XXI. How King Pelleas suffered himself to be taken prisoner\nbecause he would have a sight of his lady, and how Sir Gawaine promised\nhim to get to him the love of his lady.\nAnd so he chose her for his sovereign lady, and never to love other but\nher, but she was so proud that she had scorn of him, and said that she\nwould never love him though he would die for her. Wherefore all ladies\nand gentlewomen had scorn of her that she was so proud, for there were\nfairer than she, and there was none that was there but an Sir Pelleas\nwould have proffered them love, they would have loved him for his noble\nprowess. And so this knight promised the Lady Ettard to follow her into\nthis country, and never to leave her till she loved him. And thus he is\nhere the most part nigh her, and lodged by a priory, and every week she\nsendeth knights to fight with him. And when he hath put them to the\nworse, then will he suffer them wilfully to take him prisoner, because\nhe would have a sight of this lady. And always she doth him great\ndespite, for sometime she maketh her knights to tie him to his horse\u2019s\ntail, and some to bind him under the horse\u2019s belly; thus in the most\nshamefullest ways that she can think he is brought to her. And all she\ndoth it for to cause him to leave this country, and to leave his\nloving; but all this cannot make him to leave, for an he would have\nfought on foot he might have had the better of the ten knights as well\non foot as on horseback. Alas, said Sir Gawaine, it is great pity of\nhim; and after this night I will seek him to-morrow, in this forest, to\ndo him all the help I can. So on the morn Sir Gawaine took his leave of\nhis host Sir Carados, and rode into the forest; and at the last he met\nwith Sir Pelleas, making great moan out of measure, so each of them\nsaluted other, and asked him why he made such sorrow. And as it is\nabove rehearsed, Sir Pelleas told Sir Gawaine: But always I suffer her\nknights to fare so with me as ye saw yesterday, in trust at the last to\nwin her love, for she knoweth well all her knights should not lightly\nwin me, an me list to fight with them to the uttermost. Wherefore an I\nloved her not so sore, I had liefer die an hundred times, an I might\ndie so oft, rather than I would suffer that despite; but I trust she\nwill have pity upon me at the last, for love causeth many a good knight\nto suffer to have his entent, but alas I am unfortunate. And therewith\nhe made so great dole and sorrow that unnethe he might hold him on\nhorseback.\nNow, said Sir Gawaine, leave your mourning and I shall promise you by\nthe faith of my body to do all that lieth in my power to get you the\nlove of your lady, and thereto I will plight you my troth. Ah, said Sir\nPelleas, of what court are ye? tell me, I pray you, my good friend. And\nthen Sir Gawaine said, I am of the court of King Arthur, and his\nsister\u2019s son, and King Lot of Orkney was my father, and my name is Sir\nGawaine. And then he said, My name is Sir Pelleas, born in the Isles,\nand of many isles I am lord, and never have I loved lady nor damosel\ntill now in an unhappy time; and, sir knight, since ye are so nigh\ncousin unto King Arthur, and a king\u2019s son, therefore betray me not but\nhelp me, for I may never come by her but by some good knight, for she\nis in a strong castle here, fast by within this four mile, and over all\nthis country she is lady of. And so I may never come to her presence,\nbut as I suffer her knights to take me, and but if I did so that I\nmight have a sight of her, I had been dead long or this time; and yet\nfair word had I never of her, but when I am brought to-fore her she\nrebuketh me in the foulest manner. And then they take my horse and\nharness and put me out of the gates, and she will not suffer me to eat\nnor drink; and always I offer me to be her prisoner, but that she will\nnot suffer me, for I would desire no more, what pains so ever I had, so\nthat I might have a sight of her daily. Well, said Sir Gawaine, all\nthis shall I amend an ye will do as I shall devise: I will have your\nhorse and your armour, and so will I ride unto her castle and tell her\nthat I have slain you, and so shall I come within her to cause her to\ncherish me, and then shall I do my true part that ye shall not fail to\nhave the love of her.\nCHAPTER XXII. How Sir Gawaine came to the Lady Ettard, and how Sir\nPelleas found them sleeping.\nAnd therewith Sir Gawaine plight his troth unto Sir Pelleas to be true\nand faithful unto him; so each one plight their troth to other, and so\nthey changed horses and harness, and Sir Gawaine departed, and came to\nthe castle whereas stood the pavilions of this lady without the gate.\nAnd as soon as Ettard had espied Sir Gawaine she fled in toward the\ncastle. Sir Gawaine spake on high, and bade her abide, for he was not\nSir Pelleas; I am another knight that have slain Sir Pelleas. Do off\nyour helm, said the Lady Ettard, that I may see your visage. And so\nwhen she saw that it was not Sir Pelleas, she bade him alight and led\nhim unto her castle, and asked him faithfully whether he had slain Sir\nPelleas. And he said her yea, and told her his name was Sir Gawaine of\nthe court of King Arthur, and his sister\u2019s son. Truly, said she, that\nis great pity, for he was a passing good knight of his body, but of all\nmen alive I hated him most, for I could never be quit of him; and for\nye have slain him I shall be your woman, and to do anything that might\nplease you. So she made Sir Gawaine good cheer. Then Sir Gawaine said\nthat he loved a lady and by no means she would love him. She is to\nblame, said Ettard, an she will not love you, for ye that be so well\nborn a man, and such a man of prowess, there is no lady in the world\ntoo good for you. Will ye, said Sir Gawaine, promise me to do all that\nye may, by the faith of your body, to get me the love of my lady? Yea,\nsir, said she, and that I promise you by the faith of my body. Now,\nsaid Sir Gawaine, it is yourself that I love so well, therefore I pray\nyou hold your promise. I may not choose, said the Lady Ettard, but if I\nshould be forsworn; and so she granted him to fulfil all his desire.\nSo it was then in the month of May that she and Sir Gawaine went out of\nthe castle and supped in a pavilion, and there was made a bed, and\nthere Sir Gawaine and the Lady Ettard went to bed together, and in\nanother pavilion she laid her damosels, and in the third pavilion she\nlaid part of her knights, for then she had no dread of Sir Pelleas. And\nthere Sir Gawaine lay with her in that pavilion two days and two\nnights. And on the third day, in the morning early, Sir Pelleas armed\nhim, for he had never slept since Sir Gawaine departed from him; for\nSir Gawaine had promised him by the faith of his body, to come to him\nunto his pavilion by that priory within the space of a day and a night.\nThen Sir Pelleas mounted upon horseback, and came to the pavilions that\nstood without the castle, and found in the first pavilion three knights\nin three beds, and three squires lying at their feet. Then went he to\nthe second pavilion and found four gentlewomen lying in four beds. And\nthen he yede to the third pavilion and found Sir Gawaine lying in bed\nwith his Lady Ettard, and either clipping other in arms, and when he\nsaw that his heart well-nigh brast for sorrow, and said: Alas! that\never a knight should be found so false; and then he took his horse and\nmight not abide no longer for pure sorrow. And when he had ridden nigh\nhalf a mile he turned again and thought to slay them both; and when he\nsaw them both so lie sleeping fast, unnethe he might hold him on\nhorseback for sorrow, and said thus to himself, Though this knight be\nnever so false, I will never slay him sleeping, for I will never\ndestroy the high order of knighthood; and therewith he departed again.\nAnd or he had ridden half a mile he returned again, and thought then to\nslay them both, making the greatest sorrow that ever man made. And when\nhe came to the pavilions, he tied his horse unto a tree, and pulled out\nhis sword naked in his hand, and went to them thereas they lay, and yet\nhe thought it were shame to slay them sleeping, and laid the naked\nsword overthwart both their throats, and so took his horse and rode his\nway.\nAnd when Sir Pelleas came to his pavilions he told his knights and his\nsquires how he had sped, and said thus to them, For your true and good\nservice ye have done me I shall give you all my goods, for I will go\nunto my bed and never arise until I am dead. And when that I am dead I\ncharge you that ye take the heart out of my body and bear it her\nbetwixt two silver dishes, and tell her how I saw her lie with the\nfalse knight Sir Gawaine. Right so Sir Pelleas unarmed himself, and\nwent unto his bed making marvellous dole and sorrow.\nWhen Sir Gawaine and Ettard awoke of their sleep, and found the naked\nsword overthwart their throats, then she knew well it was Sir Pelleas\u2019\nsword. Alas! said she to Sir Gawaine, ye have betrayed me and Sir\nPelleas both, for ye told me ye had slain him, and now I know well it\nis not so, he is alive. And if Sir Pelleas had been as uncourteous to\nyou as ye have been to him ye had been a dead knight; but ye have\ndeceived me and betrayed me falsely, that all ladies and damosels may\nbeware by you and me. And therewith Sir Gawaine made him ready, and\nwent into the forest. So it happed then that the Damosel of the Lake,\nNimue, met with a knight of Sir Pelleas, that went on his foot in the\nforest making great dole, and she asked him the cause. And so the woful\nknight told her how his master and lord was betrayed through a knight\nand lady, and how he will never arise out of his bed till he be dead.\nBring me to him, said she anon, and I will warrant his life he shall\nnot die for love, and she that hath caused him so to love, she shall be\nin as evil plight as he is or it be long to, for it is no joy of such a\nproud lady that will have no mercy of such a valiant knight. Anon that\nknight brought her unto him, and when she saw him lie in his bed, she\nthought she saw never so likely a knight; and therewith she threw an\nenchantment upon him, and he fell asleep. And therewhile she rode unto\nthe Lady Ettard, and charged no man to awake him till she came again.\nSo within two hours she brought the Lady Ettard thither, and both\nladies found him asleep: Lo, said the Damosel of the Lake, ye ought to\nbe ashamed for to murder such a knight. And therewith she threw such an\nenchantment upon her that she loved him sore, that well-nigh she was\nout of her mind. O Lord Jesu, said the Lady Ettard, how is it befallen\nunto me that I love now him that I have most hated of any man alive?\nThat is the righteous judgment of God, said the damosel. And then anon\nSir Pelleas awaked and looked upon Ettard; and when he saw her he knew\nher, and then he hated her more than any woman alive, and said: Away,\ntraitress, come never in my sight. And when she heard him say so, she\nwept and made great sorrow out of measure.\nCHAPTER XXIII. How Sir Pelleas loved no more Ettard by means of the\nDamosel of the Lake, whom he loved ever after.\nSir knight Pelleas, said the Damosel of the Lake, take your horse and\ncome forth with me out of this country, and ye shall love a lady that\nshall love you. I will well, said Sir Pelleas, for this Lady Ettard\nhath done me great despite and shame, and there he told her the\nbeginning and ending, and how he had purposed never to have arisen till\nthat he had been dead. And now such grace God hath sent me, that I hate\nher as much as ever I loved her, thanked be our Lord Jesus! Thank me,\nsaid the Damosel of the Lake. Anon Sir Pelleas armed him, and took his\nhorse, and commanded his men to bring after his pavilions and his stuff\nwhere the Damosel of the Lake would assign. So the Lady Ettard died for\nsorrow, and the Damosel of the Lake rejoiced Sir Pelleas, and loved\ntogether during their life days.\nCHAPTER XXIV. How Sir Marhaus rode with the damosel, and how he came to\nthe Duke of the South Marches.\nNow turn we unto Sir Marhaus, that rode with the damosel of thirty\nwinter of age, southward. And so they came into a deep forest, and by\nfortune they were nighted, and rode long in a deep way, and at the last\nthey came unto a courtelage, and there they asked harbour. But the man\nof the courtelage would not lodge them for no treatise that they could\ntreat, but thus much the good man said, An ye will take the adventure\nof your lodging, I shall bring you where ye shall be lodged. What\nadventure is that that I shall have for my lodging? said Sir Marhaus.\nYe shall wit when ye come there, said the good man. Sir, what adventure\nso it be, bring me thither I pray thee, said Sir Marhaus; for I am\nweary, my damosel, and my horse. So the good man went and opened the\ngate, and within an hour he brought him unto a fair castle, and then\nthe poor man called the porter, and anon he was let into the castle,\nand so he told the lord how he brought him a knight errant and a\ndamosel that would be lodged with him. Let him in, said the lord, it\nmay happen he shall repent that they took their lodging here.\nSo Sir Marhaus was let in with torchlight, and there was a goodly sight\nof young men that welcomed him. And then his horse was led into the\nstable, and he and the damosel were brought into the hall, and there\nstood a mighty duke and many goodly men about him. Then this lord asked\nhim what he hight, and from whence he came, and with whom he dwelt.\nSir, he said, I am a knight of King Arthur\u2019s and knight of the Table\nRound, and my name is Sir Marhaus, and born I am in Ireland. And then\nsaid the duke to him, That me sore repenteth: the cause is this, for I\nlove not thy lord nor none of thy fellows of the Table Round; and\ntherefore ease thyself this night as well as thou mayest, for as\nto-morn I and my six sons shall match with you. Is there no remedy but\nthat I must have ado with you and your six sons at once? said Sir\nMarhaus. No, said the duke, for this cause I made mine avow, for Sir\nGawaine slew my seven sons in a recounter, therefore I made mine avow,\nthere should never knight of King Arthur\u2019s court lodge with me, or come\nthereas I might have ado with him, but that I would have a revenging of\nmy sons\u2019 death. What is your name? said Sir Marhaus; I require you tell\nme, an it please you. Wit thou well I am the Duke of South Marches. Ah,\nsaid Sir Marhaus, I have heard say that ye have been long time a great\nfoe unto my lord Arthur and to his knights. That shall ye feel to-morn,\nsaid the duke. Shall I have ado with you? said Sir Marhaus. Yea, said\nthe duke, thereof shalt thou not choose, and therefore take you to your\nchamber, and ye shall have all that to you longeth. So Sir Marhaus\ndeparted and was led to a chamber, and his damosel was led unto her\nchamber. And on the morn the duke sent unto Sir Marhaus and bade make\nhim ready. And so Sir Marhaus arose and armed him, and then there was a\nmass sung afore him, and brake his fast, and so mounted on horseback in\nthe court of the castle where they should do the battle. So there was\nthe duke all ready on horseback, clean armed, and his six sons by him,\nand everych had a spear in his hand, and so they encountered, whereas\nthe duke and his two sons brake their spears upon him, but Sir Marhaus\nheld up his spear and touched none of them.\nCHAPTER XXV. How Sir Marhaus fought with the duke and his four sons and\nmade them to yield them.\nThen came the four sons by couple, and two of them brake their spears,\nand so did the other two. And all this while Sir Marhaus touched them\nnot. Then Sir Marhaus ran to the duke, and smote him with his spear\nthat horse and man fell to the earth, and so he served his sons; and\nthen Sir Marhaus alighted down and bade the duke yield him or else he\nwould slay him. And then some of his sons recovered, and would have set\nupon Sir Marhaus; then Sir Marhaus said to the duke, Cease thy sons, or\nelse I will do the uttermost to you all. Then the duke saw he might not\nescape the death, he cried to his sons, and charged them to yield them\nto Sir Marhaus; and they kneeled all down and put the pommels of their\nswords to the knight, and so he received them. And then they helped up\ntheir father, and so by their cominal assent promised to Sir Marhaus\nnever to be foes unto King Arthur, and thereupon at Whitsuntide after\nto come, he and his sons, and put them in the king\u2019s grace.\nThen Sir Marhaus departed, and within two days his damosel brought him\nwhereas was a great tournament that the Lady de Vawse had cried. And\nwho that did best should have a rich circlet of gold worth a thousand\nbesants. And there Sir Marhaus did so nobly that he was renowned, and\nhad sometime down forty knights, and so the circlet of gold was\nrewarded him. Then he departed from them with great worship; and so\nwithin seven nights his damosel brought him to an earl\u2019s place, his\nname was the Earl Fergus, that after was Sir Tristram\u2019s knight; and\nthis earl was but a young man, and late come into his lands, and there\nwas a giant fast by him that hight Taulurd, and he had another brother\nin Cornwall that hight Taulas, that Sir Tristram slew when he was out\nof his mind. So this earl made his complaint unto Sir Marhaus, that\nthere was a giant by him that destroyed all his lands, and how he durst\nnowhere ride nor go for him. Sir, said the knight, whether useth he to\nfight on horseback or on foot? Nay, said the earl, there may no horse\nbear him. Well, said Sir Marhaus, then will I fight with him on foot;\nso on the morn Sir Marhaus prayed the earl that one of his men might\nbring him whereas the giant was; and so he was, for he saw him sit\nunder a tree of holly, and many clubs of iron and gisarms about him. So\nthis knight dressed him to the giant, putting his shield afore him, and\nthe giant took an iron club in his hand, and at the first stroke he\nclave Sir Marhaus\u2019 shield in two pieces. And there he was in great\nperil, for the giant was a wily fighter, but at last Sir Marhaus smote\noff his right arm above the elbow.\nThen the giant fled and the knight after him, and so he drove him into\na water, but the giant was so high that he might not wade after him.\nAnd then Sir Marhaus made the Earl Fergus\u2019 man to fetch him stones, and\nwith those stones the knight gave the giant many sore knocks, till at\nthe last he made him fall down into the water, and so was he there\ndead. Then Sir Marhaus went unto the giant\u2019s castle, and there he\ndelivered twenty-four ladies and twelve knights out of the giant\u2019s\nprison, and there he had great riches without number, so that the days\nof his life he was never poor man. Then he returned to the Earl Fergus,\nthe which thanked him greatly, and would have given him half his lands,\nbut he would none take. So Sir Marhaus dwelled with the earl nigh half\na year, for he was sore bruised with the giant, and at the last he took\nhis leave. And as he rode by the way, he met with Sir Gawaine and Sir\nUwaine, and so by adventure he met with four knights of Arthur\u2019s court,\nthe first was Sir Sagramore le Desirous, Sir Osanna, Sir Dodinas le\nSavage, and Sir Felot of Listinoise; and there Sir Marhaus with one\nspear smote down these four knights, and hurt them sore. So he departed\nto meet at his day aforeset.\nCHAPTER XXVI. How Sir Uwaine rode with the damosel of sixty year of\nage, and how he gat the prize at tourneying.\nNow turn we unto Sir Uwaine, that rode westward with his damosel of\nthree score winter of age, and she brought him thereas was a tournament\nnigh the march of Wales. And at that tournament Sir Uwaine smote down\nthirty knights, therefore was given him the prize, and that was a\ngerfalcon, and a white steed trapped with cloth of gold. So then Sir\nUwaine did many strange adventures by the means of the old damosel, and\nso she brought him to a lady that was called the Lady of the Rock, the\nwhich was much courteous. So there were in the country two knights that\nwere brethren, and they were called two perilous knights, the one\nknight hight Sir Edward of the Red Castle, and the other Sir Hue of the\nRed Castle; and these two brethren had disherited the Lady of the Rock\nof a barony of lands by their extortion. And as this knight was lodged\nwith this lady she made her complaint to him of these two knights.\nMadam, said Sir Uwaine, they are to blame, for they do against the high\norder of knighthood, and the oath that they made; and if it like you I\nwill speak with them, because I am a knight of King Arthur\u2019s, and I\nwill entreat them with fairness; and if they will not, I shall do\nbattle with them, and in the defence of your right. Gramercy said the\nlady, and thereas I may not acquit you, God shall. So on the morn the\ntwo knights were sent for, that they should come thither to speak with\nthe Lady of the Rock, and wit ye well they failed not, for they came\nwith an hundred horse. But when this lady saw them in this manner so\nbig, she would not suffer Sir Uwaine to go out to them upon no surety\nnor for no fair language, but she made him speak with them over a\ntower, but finally these two brethren would not be entreated, and\nanswered that they would keep that they had. Well, said Sir Uwaine,\nthen will I fight with one of you, and prove that ye do this lady\nwrong. That will we not, said they, for an we do battle, we two will\nfight with one knight at once, and therefore if ye will fight so, we\nwill be ready at what hour ye will assign. And if ye win us in battle\nthe lady shall have her lands again. Ye say well, said Sir Uwaine,\ntherefore make you ready so that ye be here to-morn in the defence of\nthe lady\u2019s right.\nCHAPTER XXVII. How Sir Uwaine fought with two knights and overcame\nthem.\nSo was there sikerness made on both parties that no treason should be\nwrought on neither party; so then the knights departed and made them\nready, and that night Sir Uwaine had great cheer. And on the morn he\narose early and heard mass, and brake his fast, and so he rode unto the\nplain without the gates, where hoved the two brethren abiding him. So\nthey rode together passing sore, that Sir Edward and Sir Hue brake\ntheir spears upon Sir Uwaine. And Sir Uwaine smote Sir Edward that he\nfell over his horse and yet his spear brast not. And then he spurred\nhis horse and came upon Sir Hue and overthrew him, but they soon\nrecovered and dressed their shields and drew their swords and bade Sir\nUwaine alight and do his battle to the uttermost. Then Sir Uwaine\ndevoided his horse suddenly, and put his shield afore him and drew his\nsword, and so they dressed together, and either gave other such\nstrokes, and there these two brethren wounded Sir Uwaine passing\ngrievously that the Lady of the Rock weened he should have died. And\nthus they fought together five hours as men raged out of reason. And at\nthe last Sir Uwaine smote Sir Edward upon the helm such a stroke that\nhis sword carved unto his canel bone, and then Sir Hue abated his\ncourage, but Sir Uwaine pressed fast to have slain him. That saw Sir\nHue: he kneeled down and yielded him to Sir Uwaine. And he of his\ngentleness received his sword, and took him by the hand, and went into\nthe castle together. Then the Lady of the Rock was passing glad, and\nthe other brother made great sorrow for his brother\u2019s death. Then the\nlady was restored of all her lands, and Sir Hue was commanded to be at\nthe court of King Arthur at the next feast of Pentecost. So Sir Uwaine\ndwelt with the lady nigh half a year, for it was long or he might be\nwhole of his great hurts. And so when it drew nigh the term-day that\nSir Gawaine, Sir Marhaus, and Sir Uwaine should meet at the cross-way,\nthen every knight drew him thither to hold his promise that they had\nmade; and Sir Marhaus and Sir Uwaine brought their damosels with them,\nbut Sir Gawaine had lost his damosel, as it is afore rehearsed.\nCHAPTER XXVIII. How at the year\u2019s end all three knights with their\nthree damosels met at the fountain.\nRight so at the twelvemonths\u2019 end they met all three knights at the\nfountain and their damosels, but the damosel that Sir Gawaine had could\nsay but little worship of him so they departed from the damosels and\nrode through a great forest, and there they met with a messenger that\ncame from King Arthur, that had sought them well-nigh a twelvemonth\nthroughout all England, Wales, and Scotland, and charged if ever he\nmight find Sir Gawaine and Sir Uwaine to bring them to the court again.\nAnd then were they all glad, and so prayed they Sir Marhaus to ride\nwith them to the king\u2019s court. And so within twelve days they came to\nCamelot, and the king was passing glad of their coming, and so was all\nthe court. Then the king made them to swear upon a book to tell him all\ntheir adventures that had befallen them that twelvemonth, and so they\ndid. And there was Sir Marhaus well known, for there were knights that\nhe had matched aforetime, and he was named one of the best knights\nliving.\nAgainst the feast of Pentecost came the Damosel of the Lake and brought\nwith her Sir Pelleas; and at that high feast there was great jousting\nof knights, and of all knights that were at that jousts, Sir Pelleas\nhad the prize, and Sir Marhaus was named the next; but Sir Pelleas was\nso strong there might but few knights sit him a buffet with a spear.\nAnd at that next feast Sir Pelleas and Sir Marhaus were made knights of\nthe Table Round, for there were two sieges void, for two knights were\nslain that twelvemonth, and great joy had King Arthur of Sir Pelleas\nand of Sir Marhaus. But Pelleas loved never after Sir Gawaine, but as\nhe spared him for the love of King Arthur; but ofttimes at jousts and\ntournaments Sir Pelleas quit Sir Gawaine, for so it rehearseth in the\nbook of French. So Sir Tristram many days after fought with Sir Marhaus\nin an island, and there they did a great battle, but at the last Sir\nTristram slew him, so Sir Tristram was wounded that unnethe he might\nrecover, and lay at a nunnery half a year. And Sir Pelleas was a\nworshipful knight, and was one of the four that achieved the Sangreal,\nand the Damosel of the Lake made by her means that never he had ado\nwith Sir Launcelot de Lake, for where Sir Launcelot was at any jousts\nor any tournament, she would not suffer him be there that day, but if\nit were on the side of Sir Launcelot.\nExplicit liber quartus.\nIncipit liber quintus.\nBOOK V.\nCHAPTER I. How twelve aged ambassadors of Rome came to King Arthur to\ndemand truage for Britain.\nWhen King Arthur had after long war rested, and held a royal feast and\nTable Round with his allies of kings, princes, and noble knights all of\nthe Round Table, there came into his hall, he sitting in his throne\nroyal, twelve ancient men, bearing each of them a branch of olive, in\ntoken that they came as ambassadors and messengers from the Emperor\nLucius, which was called at that time, Dictator or Procuror of the\nPublic Weal of Rome. Which said messengers, after their entering and\ncoming into the presence of King Arthur, did to him their obeisance in\nmaking to him reverence, and said to him in this wise: The high and\nmighty Emperor Lucius sendeth to the King of Britain greeting,\ncommanding thee to acknowledge him for thy lord, and to send him the\ntruage due of this realm unto the Empire, which thy father and other\nto-fore thy precessors have paid as is of record, and thou as rebel not\nknowing him as thy sovereign, withholdest and retainest contrary to the\nstatutes and decrees made by the noble and worthy Julius Cesar,\nconqueror of this realm, and first Emperor of Rome. And if thou refuse\nhis demand and commandment know thou for certain that he shall make\nstrong war against thee, thy realms and lands, and shall chastise thee\nand thy subjects, that it shall be ensample perpetual unto all kings\nand princes, for to deny their truage unto that noble empire which\ndomineth upon the universal world. Then when they had showed the effect\nof their message, the king commanded them to withdraw them, and said he\nshould take advice of council and give to them an answer. Then some of\nthe young knights, hearing this their message, would have run on them\nto have slain them, saying that it was a rebuke to all the knights\nthere being present to suffer them to say so to the king. And anon the\nking commanded that none of them, upon pain of death, to missay them\nnor do them any harm, and commanded a knight to bring them to their\nlodging, and see that they have all that is necessary and requisite for\nthem, with the best cheer, and that no dainty be spared, for the Romans\nbe great lords, and though their message please me not nor my court,\nyet I must remember mine honour.\nAfter this the king let call all his lords and knights of the Round\nTable to counsel upon this matter, and desired them to say their\nadvice. Then Sir Cador of Cornwall spake first and said, Sir, this\nmessage liketh me well, for we have many days rested us and have been\nidle, and now I hope ye shall make sharp war on the Romans, where I\ndoubt not we shall get honour. I believe well, said Arthur, that this\nmatter pleaseth thee well, but these answers may not be answered, for\nthe demand grieveth me sore, for truly I will never pay truage to Rome,\nwherefore I pray you to counsel me. I have understood that Belinus and\nBrenius, kings of Britain, have had the empire in their hands many\ndays, and also Constantine the son of Heleine, which is an open\nevidence that we owe no tribute to Rome but of right we that be\ndescended of them have right to claim the title of the empire.\nCHAPTER II. How the kings and lords promised to King Arthur aid and\nhelp against the Romans.\nThen answered King Anguish of Scotland, Sir, ye ought of right to be\nabove all other kings, for unto you is none like nor pareil in\nChristendom, of knighthood nor of dignity, and I counsel you never to\nobey the Romans, for when they reigned on us they distressed our\nelders, and put this land to great extortions and tallies, wherefore I\nmake here mine avow to avenge me on them; and for to strengthen your\nquarrel I shall furnish twenty thousand good men of war, and wage them\non my costs, which shall await on you with myself when it shall please\nyou. And the king of Little Britain granted him to the same thirty\nthousand; wherefore King Arthur thanked them. And then every man agreed\nto make war, and to aid after their power; that is to wit, the lord of\nWest Wales promised to bring thirty thousand men, and Sir Uwaine, Sir\nIder his son, with their cousins, promised to bring thirty thousand.\nThen Sir Launcelot with all other promised in likewise every man a\ngreat multitude.\nAnd when King Arthur understood their courages and good wills he\nthanked them heartily, and after let call the ambassadors to hear their\nanswer. And in presence of all his lords and knights he said to them in\nthis wise: I will that ye return unto your lord and Procuror of the\nCommon Weal for the Romans, and say ye to him, Of his demand and\ncommandment I set nothing, and that I know of no truage nor tribute\nthat I owe to him, nor to none earthly prince, Christian nor heathen;\nbut I pretend to have and occupy the sovereignty of the empire, wherein\nI am entitled by the right of my predecessors, sometime kings of this\nland; and say to him that I am delibered and fully concluded, to go\nwith mine army with strength and power unto Rome, by the grace of God,\nto take possession in the empire and subdue them that be rebel.\nWherefore I command him and all them of Rome, that incontinent they\nmake to me their homage, and to acknowledge me for their Emperor and\nGovernor, upon pain that shall ensue. And then he commanded his\ntreasurer to give to them great and large gifts, and to pay all their\ndispenses, and assigned Sir Cador to convey them out of the land. And\nso they took their leave and departed, and took their shipping at\nSandwich, and passed forth by Flanders, Almaine, the mountains, and all\nItaly, until they came unto Lucius. And after the reverence made, they\nmade relation of their answer, like as ye to-fore have heard.\nWhen the Emperor Lucius had well understood their credence, he was sore\nmoved as he had been all araged, and said, I had supposed that Arthur\nwould have obeyed to my commandment, and have served you himself, as\nhim well beseemed or any other king to do. O Sir, said one of the\nsenators, let be such vain words, for we let you wit that I and my\nfellows were full sore afeard to behold his countenance; I fear me ye\nhave made a rod for yourself, for he intendeth to be lord of this\nempire, which sore is to be doubted if he come, for he is all another\nman than ye ween, and holdeth the most noble court of the world, all\nother kings nor princes may not compare unto his noble maintenance. On\nNew Year\u2019s Day we saw him in his estate, which was the royalest that\never we saw, for he was served at his table with nine kings, and the\nnoblest fellowship of other princes, lords, and knights that be in the\nworld, and every knight approved and like a lord, and holdeth Table\nRound: and in his person the most manly man that liveth, and is like to\nconquer all the world, for unto his courage it is too little: wherefore\nI advise you to keep well your marches and straits in the mountains;\nfor certainly he is a lord to be doubted. Well, said Lucius, before\nEaster I suppose to pass the mountains, and so forth into France, and\nthere bereave him his lands with Genoese and other mighty warriors of\nTuscany and Lombardy. And I shall send for them all that be subjects\nand allied to the empire of Rome to come to mine aid. And forthwith\nsent old wise knights unto these countries following: first to Ambage\nand Arrage, to Alexandria, to India, to Armenia, whereas the river of\nEuphrates runneth into Asia, to Africa, and Europe the Large, to\nErtayne and Elamye, to Araby, Egypt, and to Damascus, to Damietta and\nCayer, to Cappadocia, to Tarsus, Turkey, Pontus and Pamphylia, to Syria\nand Galatia. And all these were subject to Rome and many more, as\nGreece, Cyprus, Macedonia, Calabria, Cateland, Portugal, with many\nthousands of Spaniards. Thus all these kings, dukes, and admirals,\nassembled about Rome, with sixteen kings at once, with great multitude\nof people. When the emperor understood their coming he made ready his\nRomans and all the people between him and Flanders.\nAlso he had gotten with him fifty giants which had been engendered of\nfiends; and they were ordained to guard his person, and to break the\nfront of the battle of King Arthur. And thus departed from Rome, and\ncame down the mountains for to destroy the lands that Arthur had\nconquered, and came unto Cologne, and besieged a castle thereby, and\nwon it soon, and stuffed it with two hundred Saracens or Infidels, and\nafter destroyed many fair countries which Arthur had won of King\nClaudas. And thus Lucius came with all his host, which were disperplyd\nsixty mile in breadth, and commanded them to meet with him in Burgoyne,\nfor he purposed to destroy the realm of Little Britain.\nCHAPTER III. How King Arthur held a parliament at York, and how he\nordained the realm should be governed in his absence.\nNow leave we of Lucius the Emperor and speak we of King Arthur, that\ncommanded all them of his retinue to be ready at the utas of Hilary for\nto hold a parliament at York. And at that parliament was concluded to\narrest all the navy of the land, and to be ready within fifteen days at\nSandwich, and there he showed to his army how he purposed to conquer\nthe empire which he ought to have of right. And there he ordained two\ngovernors of this realm, that is to say, Sir Baudwin of Britain, for to\ncounsel to the best, and Sir Constantine, son to Sir Cador of Cornwall,\nwhich after the death of Arthur was king of this realm. And in the\npresence of all his lords he resigned the rule of the realm and\nGuenever his queen to them, wherefore Sir Launcelot was wroth, for he\nleft Sir Tristram with King Mark for the love of Beale Isould. Then the\nQueen Guenever made great sorrow for the departing of her lord and\nother, and swooned in such wise that the ladies bare her into her\nchamber. Thus the king with his great army departed, leaving the queen\nand realm in the governance of Sir Baudwin and Constantine. And when he\nwas on his horse he said with an high voice, If I die in this journey I\nwill that Sir Constantine be mine heir and king crowned of this realm\nas next of my blood. And after departed and entered into the sea at\nSandwich with all his army, with a great multitude of ships, galleys,\ncogs, and dromounds, sailing on the sea.\nCHAPTER IV. How King Arthur being shipped and lying in his cabin had a\nmarvellous dream and of the exposition thereof.\nAnd as the king lay in his cabin in the ship, he fell in a slumbering\nand dreamed a marvellous dream: him seemed that a dreadful dragon did\ndrown much of his people, and he came flying out of the west, and his\nhead was enamelled with azure, and his shoulders shone as gold, his\nbelly like mails of a marvellous hue, his tail full of tatters, his\nfeet full of fine sable, and his claws like fine gold; and an hideous\nflame of fire flew out of his mouth, like as the land and water had\nflamed all of fire. After, him seemed there came out of the orient, a\ngrimly boar all black in a cloud, and his paws as big as a post; he was\nrugged looking roughly, he was the foulest beast that ever man saw, he\nroared and romed so hideously that it were marvel to hear. Then the\ndreadful dragon advanced him and came in the wind like a falcon giving\ngreat strokes on the boar, and the boar hit him again with his grizzly\ntusks that his breast was all bloody, and that the hot blood made all\nthe sea red of his blood. Then the dragon flew away all on an height,\nand came down with such a swough, and smote the boar on the ridge,\nwhich was ten foot large from the head to the tail, and smote the boar\nall to powder both flesh and bones, that it flittered all abroad on the\nsea.\nAnd therewith the king awoke anon, and was sore abashed of this dream,\nand sent anon for a wise philosopher, commanding to tell him the\nsignification of his dream. Sir, said the philosopher, the dragon that\nthou dreamedst of betokeneth thine own person that sailest here, and\nthe colours of his wings be thy realms that thou hast won, and his tail\nwhich is all to-tattered signifieth the noble knights of the Round\nTable; and the boar that the dragon slew coming from the clouds\nbetokeneth some tyrant that tormenteth the people, or else thou art\nlike to fight with some giant thyself, being horrible and abominable,\nwhose peer ye saw never in your days, wherefore of this dreadful dream\ndoubt thee nothing, but as a conqueror come forth thyself.\nThen after this soon they had sight of land, and sailed till they\narrived at Barflete in Flanders, and when they were there he found many\nof his great lords ready, as they had been commanded to wait upon him.\nCHAPTER V. How a man of the country told to him of a marvellous giant,\nand how he fought and conquered him.\nThen came to him an husbandman of the country, and told him how there\nwas in the country of Constantine beside Brittany, a great giant which\nhad slain, murdered and devoured much people of the country, and had\nbeen sustained seven year with the children of the commons of that\nland, insomuch that all the children be all slain and destroyed; and\nnow late he hath taken the Duchess of Brittany as she rode with her\nmeiny, and hath led her to his lodging which is in a mountain, for to\nravish and lie by her to her life\u2019s end, and many people followed her,\nmore than five hundred, but all they might not rescue her, but they\nleft her shrieking and crying lamentably, wherefore I suppose that he\nhath slain her in fulfilling his foul lust of lechery. She was wife\nunto thy cousin Sir Howell, whom we call full nigh of thy blood. Now,\nas thou art a rightful king, have pity on this lady, and revenge us all\nas thou art a noble conqueror. Alas, said King Arthur, this is a great\nmischief, I had liefer than the best realm that I have that I had been\na furlong way to-fore him for to have rescued that lady. Now, fellow,\nsaid King Arthur, canst thou bring me thereas this giant haunteth? Yea,\nSir, said the good man, look yonder whereas thou seest those two great\nfires, there shalt thou find him, and more treasure than I suppose is\nin all France. When the king had understood this piteous case, he\nreturned into his tent.\nThen he called to him Sir Kay and Sir Bedivere, and commanded them\nsecretly to make ready horse and harness for himself and them twain;\nfor after evensong he would ride on pilgrimage with them two only unto\nSaint Michael\u2019s mount. And then anon he made him ready, and armed him\nat all points, and took his horse and his shield. And so they three\ndeparted thence and rode forth as fast as ever they might till that\nthey came to the foreland of that mount. And there they alighted, and\nthe king commanded them to tarry there, for he would himself go up into\nthat mount. And so he ascended up into that hill till he came to a\ngreat fire, and there he found a careful widow wringing her hands and\nmaking great sorrow, sitting by a grave new made. And then King Arthur\nsaluted her, and demanded of her wherefore she made such lamentation,\nto whom she answered and said, Sir knight, speak soft, for yonder is a\ndevil, if he hear thee speak he will come and destroy thee; I hold thee\nunhappy; what dost thou here in this mountain? for if ye were such\nfifty as ye be, ye were not able to make resistance against this devil:\nhere lieth a duchess dead, the which was the fairest of all the world,\nwife to Sir Howell, Duke of Brittany, he hath murdered her in forcing\nher, and hath slit her unto the navel.\nDame, said the king, I come from the noble conqueror King Arthur, for\nto treat with that tyrant for his liege people. Fie on such treaties,\nsaid she, he setteth not by the king nor by no man else; but an if thou\nhave brought Arthur\u2019s wife, dame Guenever, he shall be gladder than\nthou hadst given to him half France. Beware, approach him not too nigh,\nfor he hath vanquished fifteen kings, and hath made him a coat full of\nprecious stones embroidered with their beards, which they sent him to\nhave his love for salvation of their people at this last Christmas. And\nif thou wilt, speak with him at yonder great fire at supper. Well, said\nArthur, I will accomplish my message for all your fearful words; and\nwent forth by the crest of that hill, and saw where he sat at supper\ngnawing on a limb of a man, baking his broad limbs by the fire, and\nbreechless, and three fair damosels turning three broaches whereon were\nbroached twelve young children late born, like young birds.\nWhen King Arthur beheld that piteous sight he had great compassion on\nthem, so that his heart bled for sorrow, and hailed him, saying in this\nwise: He that all the world wieldeth give thee short life and shameful\ndeath; and the devil have thy soul; why hast thou murdered these young\ninnocent children, and murdered this duchess? Therefore, arise and\ndress thee, thou glutton, for this day shalt thou die of my hand. Then\nthe glutton anon started up, and took a great club in his hand, and\nsmote at the king that his coronal fell to the earth. And the king hit\nhim again that he carved his belly and cut off his genitours, that his\nguts and his entrails fell down to the ground. Then the giant threw\naway his club, and caught the king in his arms that he crushed his\nribs. Then the three maidens kneeled down and called to Christ for help\nand comfort of Arthur. And then Arthur weltered and wrung, that he was\nother while under and another time above. And so weltering and\nwallowing they rolled down the hill till they came to the sea mark, and\never as they so weltered Arthur smote him with his dagger.\nAnd it fortuned they came to the place whereas the two knights were and\nkept Arthur\u2019s horse; then when they saw the king fast in the giant\u2019s\narms they came and loosed him. And then the king commanded Sir Kay to\nsmite off the giant\u2019s head, and to set it upon a truncheon of a spear,\nand bear it to Sir Howell, and tell him that his enemy was slain; and\nafter let this head be bound to a barbican that all the people may see\nand behold it; and go ye two up to the mountain, and fetch me my\nshield, my sword, and the club of iron; and as for the treasure, take\nye it, for ye shall find there goods out of number; so I have the\nkirtle and the club I desire no more. This was the fiercest giant that\never I met with, save one in the mount of Araby, which I overcame, but\nthis was greater and fiercer. Then the knights fetched the club and the\nkirtle, and some of the treasure they took to themselves, and returned\nagain to the host. And anon this was known through all the country,\nwherefore the people came and thanked the king. And he said again, Give\nthe thanks to God, and depart the goods among you.\nAnd after that King Arthur said and commanded his cousin Howell, that\nhe should ordain for a church to be builded on the same hill in the\nworship of Saint Michael. And on the morn the king removed with his\ngreat battle, and came into Champayne and in a valley, and there they\npight their tents; and the king being set at his dinner, there came in\ntwo messengers, of whom that one was Marshal of France, and said to the\nking that the emperor was entered into France, and had destroyed a\ngreat part, and was in Burgoyne, and had destroyed and made great\nslaughter of people, and burnt towns and boroughs; wherefore, if thou\ncome not hastily, they must yield up their bodies and goods.\nCHAPTER VI. How King Arthur sent Sir Gawaine and other to Lucius, and\nhow they were assailed and escaped with worship.\nThen the king did do call Sir Gawaine, Sir Bors, Sir Lionel, and Sir\nBedivere, and commanded them to go straight to Sir Lucius, and say ye\nto him that hastily he remove out of my land; and if he will not, bid\nhim make him ready to battle and not distress the poor people. Then\nanon these noble knights dressed them to horseback, and when they came\nto the green wood, they saw many pavilions set in a meadow, of silk of\ndivers colours, beside a river, and the emperor\u2019s pavilion was in the\nmiddle with an eagle displayed above. To the which tent our knights\nrode toward, and ordained Sir Gawaine and Sir Bors to do the message,\nand left in a bushment Sir Lionel and Sir Bedivere. And then Sir\nGawaine and Sir Bors did their message, and commanded Lucius, in\nArthur\u2019s name to avoid his land, or shortly to address him to battle.\nTo whom Lucius answered and said, Ye shall return to your lord, and say\nye to him that I shall subdue him and all his lands. Then Sir Gawaine\nwas wroth and said, I had liefer than all France fight against thee;\nand so had I, said Sir Bors, liefer than all Brittany or Burgoyne.\nThen a knight named Sir Gainus, nigh cousin to the emperor, said, Lo,\nhow these Britons be full of pride and boast, and they brag as though\nthey bare up all the world. Then Sir Gawaine was sore grieved with\nthese words, and pulled out his sword and smote off his head. And\ntherewith turned their horses and rode over waters and through woods\ntill they came to their bushment, whereas Sir Lionel and Sir Bedivere\nwere hoving. The Romans followed fast after, on horseback and on foot,\nover a champaign unto a wood; then Sir Bors turned his horse and saw a\nknight come fast on, whom he smote through the body with a spear that\nhe fell dead down to the earth; then came Caliburn one of the strongest\nof Pavie, and smote down many of Arthur\u2019s knights. And when Sir Bors\nsaw him do so much harm, he addressed toward him, and smote him through\nthe breast, that he fell down dead to the earth. Then Sir Feldenak\nthought to revenge the death of Gainus upon Sir Gawaine, but Sir\nGawaine was ware thereof, and smote him on the head, which stroke\nstinted not till it came to his breast. And then he returned and came\nto his fellows in the bushment. And there was a recounter, for the\nbushment brake on the Romans, and slew and hew down the Romans, and\nforced the Romans to flee and return, whom the noble knights chased\nunto their tents.\nThen the Romans gathered more people, and also footmen came on, and\nthere was a new battle, and so much people that Sir Bors and Sir Berel\nwere taken. But when Sir Gawaine saw that, he took with him Sir Idrus\nthe good knight, and said he would never see King Arthur but if he\nrescued them, and pulled out Galatine his good sword, and followed them\nthat led those two knights away; and he smote him that led Sir Bors,\nand took Sir Bors from him and delivered him to his fellows. And Sir\nIdrus in likewise rescued Sir Berel. Then began the battle to be great,\nthat our knights were in great jeopardy, wherefore Sir Gawaine sent to\nKing Arthur for succour, and that he hie him, for I am sore wounded,\nand that our prisoners may pay goods out of number. And the messenger\ncame to the king and told him his message. And anon the king did do\nassemble his army, but anon, or he departed the prisoners were come,\nand Sir Gawaine and his fellows gat the field and put the Romans to\nflight, and after returned and came with their fellowship in such wise\nthat no man of worship was lost of them, save that Sir Gawaine was sore\nhurt. Then the king did do ransack his wounds and comforted him. And\nthus was the beginning of the first journey of the Britons and Romans,\nand there were slain of the Romans more than ten thousand, and great\njoy and mirth was made that night in the host of King Arthur. And on\nthe morn he sent all the prisoners into Paris under the guard of Sir\nLauncelot, with many knights, and of Sir Cador.\nCHAPTER VII. How Lucius sent certain spies in a bushment for to have\ntaken his knights being prisoners, and how they were letted.\nNow turn we to the Emperor of Rome, which espied that these prisoners\nshould be sent to Paris, and anon he sent to lie in a bushment certain\nknights and princes with sixty thousand men, for to rescue his knights\nand lords that were prisoners. And so on the morn as Launcelot and Sir\nCador, chieftains and governors of all them that conveyed the\nprisoners, as they should pass through a wood, Sir Launcelot sent\ncertain knights to espy if any were in the woods to let them. And when\nthe said knights came into the wood, anon they espied and saw the great\nembushment, and returned and told Sir Launcelot that there lay in await\nfor them three score thousand Romans. And then Sir Launcelot with such\nknights as he had, and men of war to the number of ten thousand, put\nthem in array, and met with them and fought with them manly, and slew\nand detrenched many of the Romans, and slew many knights and admirals\nof the party of the Romans and Saracens; there was slain the king of\nLyly and three great lords, Aladuke, Herawd, and Heringdale. But Sir\nLauncelot fought so nobly that no man might endure a stroke of his\nhand, but where he came he showed his prowess and might, for he slew\ndown right on every side; and the Romans and Saracens fled from him as\nthe sheep from the wolf or from the lion, and put them, all that abode\nalive, to flight.\nAnd so long they fought that tidings came to King Arthur, and anon he\ngraithed him and came to the battle, and saw his knights how they had\nvanquished the battle, he embraced them knight by knight in his arms,\nand said, Ye be worthy to wield all your honour and worship; there was\nnever king save myself that had so noble knights. Sir, said Cador,\nthere was none of us failed other, but of the prowess and manhood of\nSir Launcelot were more than wonder to tell, and also of his cousins\nwhich did that day many noble feats of war. And also Sir Cador told who\nof his knights were slain, as Sir Berel, and other Sir Moris and Sir\nMaurel, two good knights. Then the king wept, and dried his eyes with a\nkerchief, and said, Your courage had near-hand destroyed you, for\nthough ye had returned again, ye had lost no worship; for I call it\nfolly, knights to abide when they be overmatched. Nay, said Launcelot\nand the other, for once shamed may never be recovered.\nCHAPTER VIII. How a senator told to Lucius of their discomfiture, and\nalso of the great battle between Arthur and Lucius.\nNow leave we King Arthur and his noble knights which had won the field,\nand had brought their prisoners to Paris, and speak we of a senator\nwhich escaped from the battle, and came to Lucius the emperor, and said\nto him, Sir emperor, I advise thee for to withdraw thee; what dost thou\nhere? thou shalt win nothing in these marches but great strokes out of\nall measure, for this day one of Arthur\u2019s knights was worth in the\nbattle an hundred of ours. Fie on thee, said Lucius, thou speakest\ncowardly; for thy words grieve me more than all the loss that I had\nthis day. And anon he sent forth a king, which hight Sir Leomie, with a\ngreat army, and bade him hie him fast to-fore, and he would follow\nhastily after. King Arthur was warned privily, and sent his people to\nSessoine, and took up the towns and castles from the Romans. Then the\nking commanded Sir Cador to take the rearward, and to take with him\ncertain knights of the Round Table, and Sir Launcelot, Sir Bors, Sir\nKay, Sir Marrok, with Sir Marhaus, shall await on our person. Thus the\nKing Arthur disperpled his host in divers parties, to the end that his\nenemies should not escape.\nWhen the emperor was entered into the vale of Sessoine, he might see\nwhere King Arthur was embattled and his banner displayed; and he was\nbeset round about with his enemies, that needs he must fight or yield\nhim, for he might not flee, but said openly unto the Romans, Sirs, I\nadmonish you that this day ye fight and acquit you as men, and remember\nhow Rome domineth and is chief and head over all the earth and\nuniversal world, and suffer not these Britons this day to abide against\nus; and therewith he did command his trumpets to blow the bloody\nsounds, in such wise that the ground trembled and dindled.\nThen the battles approached and shoved and shouted on both sides, and\ngreat strokes were smitten on both sides, many men overthrown, hurt,\nand slain; and great valiances, prowesses and appertices of war were\nthat day showed, which were over long to recount the noble feats of\nevery man, for they should contain an whole volume. But in especial,\nKing Arthur rode in the battle exhorting his knights to do well, and\nhimself did as nobly with his hands as was possible a man to do; he\ndrew out Excalibur his sword, and awaited ever whereas the Romans were\nthickest and most grieved his people, and anon he addressed him on that\npart, and hew and slew down right, and rescued his people; and he slew\na great giant named Galapas, which was a man of an huge quantity and\nheight, he shorted him and smote off both his legs by the knees,\nsaying, Now art thou better of a size to deal with than thou were, and\nafter smote off his head. There Sir Gawaine fought nobly and slew three\nadmirals in that battle. And so did all the knights of the Round Table.\nThus the battle between King Arthur and Lucius the Emperor endured\nlong. Lucius had on his side many Saracens which were slain. And thus\nthe battle was great, and oftsides that one party was at a fordeal and\nanon at an afterdeal, which endured so long till at the last King\nArthur espied where Lucius the Emperor fought, and did wonder with his\nown hands. And anon he rode to him. And either smote other fiercely,\nand at last Lucius smote Arthur thwart the visage, and gave him a large\nwound. And when King Arthur felt himself hurt, anon he smote him again\nwith Excalibur that it cleft his head, from the summit of his head, and\nstinted not till it came to his breast. And then the emperor fell down\ndead and there ended his life.\nAnd when it was known that the emperor was slain, anon all the Romans\nwith all their host put them to flight, and King Arthur with all his\nknights followed the chase, and slew down right all them that they\nmight attain. And thus was the victory given to King Arthur, and the\ntriumph; and there were slain on the part of Lucius more than an\nhundred thousand. And after King Arthur did do ransack the dead bodies,\nand did do bury them that were slain of his retinue, every man\naccording to the estate and degree that he was of. And them that were\nhurt he let the surgeons do search their hurts and wounds, and\ncommanded to spare no salves nor medicines till they were whole.\nThen the king rode straight to the place where the Emperor Lucius lay\ndead, and with him he found slain the Soudan of Syria, the King of\nEgypt and of Ethiopia, which were two noble kings, with seventeen other\nkings of divers regions, and also sixty senators of Rome, all noble\nmen, whom the king did do balm and gum with many good gums aromatic,\nand after did do cere them in sixty fold of cered cloth of sendal, and\nlaid them in chests of lead, because they should not chafe nor savour,\nand upon all these bodies their shields with their arms and banners\nwere set, to the end they should be known of what country they were.\nAnd after he found three senators which were alive, to whom he said,\nFor to save your lives I will that ye take these dead bodies, and carry\nthem with you unto great Rome, and present them to the Potestate on my\nbehalf, shewing him my letters, and tell them that I in my person shall\nhastily be at Rome. And I suppose the Romans shall beware how they\nshall demand any tribute of me. And I command you to say when ye shall\ncome to Rome, to the Potestate and all the Council and Senate, that I\nsend to them these dead bodies for the tribute that they have demanded.\nAnd if they be not content with these, I shall pay more at my coming,\nfor other tribute owe I none, nor none other will I pay. And methinketh\nthis sufficeth for Britain, Ireland and all Almaine with Germany. And\nfurthermore, I charge you to say to them, that I command them upon pain\nof their heads never to demand tribute nor tax of me nor of my lands.\nThen with this charge and commandment, the three senators aforesaid\ndeparted with all the said dead bodies, laying the body of Lucius in a\ncar covered with the arms of the Empire all alone; and after alway two\nbodies of kings in a chariot, and then the bodies of the senators after\nthem, and so went toward Rome, and showed their legation and message to\nthe Potestate and Senate, recounting the battle done in France, and how\nthe field was lost and much people and innumerable slain. Wherefore\nthey advised them in no wise to move no more war against that noble\nconqueror Arthur, for his might and prowess is most to be doubted, seen\nthe noble kings and great multitude of knights of the Round Table, to\nwhom none earthly prince may compare.\nCHAPTER IX. How Arthur, after he had achieved the battle against the\nRomans, entered into Almaine, and so into Italy.\nNow turn we unto King Arthur and his noble knights, which, after the\ngreat battle achieved against the Romans, entered into Lorraine,\nBrabant and Flanders, and sithen returned into Haut Almaine, and so\nover the mountains into Lombardy, and after, into Tuscany wherein was a\ncity which in no wise would yield themself nor obey, wherefore King\nArthur besieged it, and lay long about it, and gave many assaults to\nthe city; and they within defended them valiantly. Then, on a time, the\nking called Sir Florence, a knight, and said to him they lacked\nvictual, And not far from hence be great forests and woods, wherein be\nmany of mine enemies with much bestial: I will that thou make thee\nready and go thither in foraying, and take with thee Sir Gawaine my\nnephew, Sir Wisshard, Sir Clegis, Sir Cleremond, and the Captain of\nCardiff with other, and bring with you all the beasts that ye there can\nget.\nAnd anon these knights made them ready, and rode over holts and hills,\nthrough forests and woods, till they came into a fair meadow full of\nfair flowers and grass; and there they rested them and their horses all\nthat night. And in the springing of the day in the next morn, Sir\nGawaine took his horse and stole away from his fellowship, to seek some\nadventures. And anon he was ware of a man armed, walking his horse\neasily by a wood\u2019s side, and his shield laced to his shoulder, sitting\non a strong courser, without any man saving a page bearing a mighty\nspear. The knight bare in his shield three griffins of gold, in sable\ncarbuncle, the chief of silver. When Sir Gawaine espied this gay\nknight, he feutred his spear, and rode straight to him, and demanded of\nhim from whence that he was. That other answered and said he was of\nTuscany, and demanded of Sir Gawaine, What, profferest thou, proud\nknight, thee so boldly? here gettest thou no prey, thou mayest prove\nwhat thou wilt, for thou shalt be my prisoner or thou depart. Then said\nGawaine, thou avauntest thee greatly and speakest proud words, I\ncounsel thee for all thy boast that thou make thee ready, and take thy\ngear to thee, to-fore greater grame fall to thee.\nCHAPTER X. Of a battle done by Sir Gawaine against a Saracen, which\nafter was yielden and became Christian.\nThen they took their spears and ran each at other with all the might\nthey had, and smote each other through their shields into their\nshoulders, wherefore anon they pulled out their swords, and smote great\nstrokes that the fire sprang out of their helms. Then Sir Gawaine was\nall abashed, and with Galatine his good sword he smote through shield\nand thick hauberk made of thick mails, and all to-rushed and break the\nprecious stones, and made him a large wound, that men might see both\nliver and lung. Then groaned that knight, and addressed him to Sir\nGawaine, and with an awk stroke gave him a great wound and cut a vein,\nwhich grieved Gawaine sore, and he bled sore. Then the knight said to\nSir Gawaine, bind thy wound or thy blee[ding] change, for thou\nbe-bleedest all thy horse and thy fair arms, for all the barbers of\nBrittany shall not con staunch thy blood, for whosomever is hurt with\nthis blade he shall never be staunched of bleeding. Then answered\nGawaine, it grieveth me but little, thy great words shall not fear me\nnor lessen my courage, but thou shalt suffer teen and sorrow or we\ndepart, but tell me in haste who may staunch my bleeding. That may I\ndo, said the knight, if I will, and so will I if thou wilt succour and\naid me, that I may be christened and believe on God, and thereof I\nrequire thee of thy manhood, and it shall be great merit for thy soul.\nI grant, said Gawaine, so God help me, to accomplish all thy desire,\nbut first tell me what thou soughtest here thus alone, and of what land\nand liegiance thou art of. Sir, he said, my name is Priamus, and a\ngreat prince is my father, and he hath been rebel unto Rome and\noverridden many of their lands. My father is lineally descended of\nAlexander and of Hector by right line. And Duke Joshua and Maccabaeus\nwere of our lineage. I am right inheritor of Alexandria and Africa, and\nall the out isles, yet will I believe on thy Lord that thou believest\non; and for thy labour I shall give thee treasure enough. I was so\nelate and hauteyn in my heart that I thought no man my peer, nor to me\nsemblable. I was sent into this war with seven score knights, and now I\nhave encountered with thee, which hast given to me of fighting my fill,\nwherefore sir knight, I pray thee to tell me what thou art. I am no\nknight, said Gawaine, I have been brought up in the guardrobe with the\nnoble King Arthur many years, for to take heed to his armour and his\nother array, and to point his paltocks that long to himself. At Yule\nlast he made me yeoman, and gave to me horse and harness, and an\nhundred pound in money; and if fortune be my friend, I doubt not but to\nbe well advanced and holpen by my liege lord. Ah, said Priamus, if his\nknaves be so keen and fierce, his knights be passing good: now for the\nKing\u2019s love of Heaven, whether thou be a knave or a knight, tell thou\nme thy name. By God, said Sir Gawaine, now I will say thee sooth, my\nname is Sir Gawaine, and known I am in his court and in his chamber,\nand one of the knights of the Round Table, he dubbed me a duke with his\nown hand. Therefore grudge not if this grace is to me fortuned, it is\nthe goodness of God that lent to me my strength. Now am I better\npleased, said Priamus, than thou hadst given to me all the Provence and\nParis the rich. I had liefer to have been torn with wild horses, than\nany varlet had won such loos, or any page or priker should have had\nprize on me. But now sir knight I warn thee that hereby is a Duke of\nLorraine with his army, and the noblest men of Dolphiny, and lords of\nLombardy, with the garrison of Godard, and Saracens of Southland,\ny-numbered sixty thousand of good men of arms; wherefore but if we hie\nus hence, it will harm us both, for we be sore hurt, never like to\nrecover; but take heed to my page, that he no horn blow, for if he do,\nthere be hoving here fast by an hundred knights awaiting on my person,\nand if they take thee, there shall no ransom of gold nor silver acquit\nthee.\nThen Sir Gawaine rode over a water for to save him, and the knight\nfollowed him, and so rode forth till they came to his fellows which\nwere in the meadow, where they had been all the night. Anon as Sir\nWisshard was ware of Sir Gawaine and saw that he was hurt, he ran to\nhim sorrowfully weeping, and demanded of him who had so hurt him; and\nGawaine told how he had foughten with that man, and each of them had\nhurt other, and how he had salves to heal them; but I can tell you\nother tidings, that soon we shall have ado with many enemies.\nThen Sir Priamus and Sir Gawaine alighted, and let their horses graze\nin the meadow, and unarmed them, and then the blood ran freshly from\ntheir wounds. And Priamus took from his page a vial full of the four\nwaters that came out of Paradise, and with certain balm anointed their\nwounds, and washed them with that water, and within an hour after they\nwere both as whole as ever they were. And then with a trumpet were they\nall assembled to council, and there Priamus told unto them what lords\nand knights had sworn to rescue him, and that without fail they should\nbe assailed with many thousands, wherefore he counselled them to\nwithdraw them. Then Sir Gawaine said, it were great shame to them to\navoid without any strokes; Wherefore I advise to take our arms and to\nmake us ready to meet with these Saracens and misbelieving men, and\nwith the help of God we shall overthrow them and have a fair day on\nthem. And Sir Florence shall abide still in this field to keep the\nstale as a noble knight, and we shall not forsake yonder fellows. Now,\nsaid Priamus, cease your words, for I warn you ye shall find in yonder\nwoods many perilous knights; they will put forth beasts to call you on,\nthey be out of number, and ye are not past seven hundred, which be over\nfew to fight with so many. Nevertheless, said Sir Gawaine, we shall\nonce encounter them, and see what they can do, and the best shall have\nthe victory.\nCHAPTER XI. How the Saracens came out of a wood for to rescue their\nbeasts, and of a great battle.\nThen Sir Florence called to him Sir Floridas, with an hundred knights,\nand drove forth the herd of beasts. Then followed him seven hundred men\nof arms; and Sir Ferant of Spain on a fair steed came springing out of\nthe woods, and came to Sir Florence and asked him why he fled. Then Sir\nFlorence took his spear and rode against him, and smote him in the\nforehead and brake his neck bone. Then all the other were moved, and\nthought to avenge the death of Sir Ferant, and smote in among them, and\nthere was great fight, and many slain and laid down to ground, and Sir\nFlorence with his hundred knights alway kept the stale, and fought\nmanly.\nThen when Priamus the good knight perceived the great fight, he went to\nSir Gawaine, and bade him that he should go and succour his fellowship,\nwhich were sore bestead with their enemies. Sir, grieve you not, said\nSir Gawaine, for their gree shall be theirs. I shall not once move my\nhorse to them ward, but if I see more than there be; for they be strong\nenough to match them.\nAnd with that he saw an earl called Sir Ethelwold and the duke of\nDutchmen, came leaping out of a wood with many thousands, and Priamus\u2019\nknights, and came straight unto the battle. Then Sir Gawaine comforted\nhis knights, and bade them not to be abashed, for all shall be ours.\nThen they began to wallop and met with their enemies, there were men\nslain and overthrown on every side. Then thrust in among them the\nknights of the Table Round, and smote down to the earth all them that\nwithstood them, in so much that they made them to recoil and flee. By\nGod, said Sir Gawaine, this gladdeth my heart, for now be they less in\nnumber by twenty thousand. Then entered into the battle Jubance a\ngiant, and fought and slew down right, and distressed many of our\nknights, among whom was slain Sir Gherard, a knight of Wales. Then our\nknights took heart to them, and slew many Saracens. And then came in\nSir Priamus with his pennon, and rode with the knights of the Round\nTable, and fought so manfully that many of their enemies lost their\nlives. And there Sir Priamus slew the Marquis of Moises land, and Sir\nGawaine with his fellows so quit them that they had the field, but in\nthat stour was Sir Chestelaine, a child and ward of Sir Gawaine slain,\nwherefore was much sorrow made, and his death was soon avenged. Thus\nwas the battle ended, and many lords of Lombardy and Saracens left dead\nin the field.\nThen Sir Florence and Sir Gawaine harboured surely their people, and\ntook great plenty of bestial, of gold and silver, and great treasure\nand riches, and returned unto King Arthur, which lay still at the\nsiege. And when they came to the king they presented their prisoners\nand recounted their adventures, and how they had vanquished their\nenemies.\nCHAPTER XII. How Sir Gawaine returned to King Arthur with his\nprisoners, and how the King won a city, and how he was crowned Emperor.\nNow thanked be God, said the noble King Arthur. But what manner man is\nhe that standeth by himself, him seemeth no prisoner. Sir, said\nGawaine, this is a good man of arms, he hath matched me, but he is\nyielden unto God, and to me, for to become Christian; had not he have\nbeen we should never have returned, wherefore I pray you that he may be\nbaptised, for there liveth not a nobler man nor better knight of his\nhands. Then the king let him anon be christened, and did do call him\nhis first name Priamus, and made him a duke and knight of the Table\nRound. And then anon the king let do cry assault to the city, and there\nwas rearing of ladders, breaking of walls, and the ditch filled, that\nmen with little pain might enter into the city. Then came out a\nduchess, and Clarisin the countess, with many ladies and damosels, and\nkneeling before King Arthur, required him for the love of God to\nreceive the city, and not to take it by assault, for then should many\nguiltless be slain. Then the king avaled his visor with a meek and\nnoble countenance, and said, Madam, there shall none of my subjects\nmisdo you nor your maidens, nor to none that to you belong, but the\nduke shall abide my judgment. Then anon the king commanded to leave the\nassault, and anon the duke\u2019s oldest son brought out the keys, and\nkneeling delivered them to the king, and besought him of grace; and the\nking seized the town by assent of his lords, and took the duke and sent\nhim to Dover, there for to abide prisoner term of his life, and\nassigned certain rents for the dower of the duchess and for her\nchildren.\nThen he made lords to rule those lands, and laws as a lord ought to do\nin his own country; and after he took his journey toward Rome, and sent\nSir Floris and Sir Floridas to-fore, with five hundred men of arms, and\nthey came to the city of Urbino and laid there a bushment, thereas them\nseemed most best for them, and rode to-fore the town, where anon issued\nout much people and skirmished with the fore-riders. Then brake out the\nbushment and won the bridge, and after the town, and set upon the walls\nthe king\u2019s banner. Then came the king upon an hill, and saw the city\nand his banner on the walls, by which he knew that the city was won.\nAnd anon he sent and commanded that none of his liege men should defoul\nnor lie by no lady, wife nor maid; and when he came into the city, he\npassed to the castle, and comforted them that were in sorrow, and\nordained there a captain, a knight of his own country.\nAnd when they of Milan heard that thilk city was won, they sent to King\nArthur great sums of money, and besought him as their lord to have pity\non them, promising to be his subjects for ever, and yield to him homage\nand fealty for the lands of Pleasance and Pavia, Petersaint, and the\nPort of Tremble, and to give him yearly a million of gold all his\nlifetime. Then he rideth into Tuscany, and winneth towns and castles,\nand wasted all in his way that to him will not obey, and so to Spolute\nand Viterbe, and from thence he rode into the Vale of Vicecount among\nthe vines. And from thence he sent to the senators, to wit whether they\nwould know him for their lord. But soon after on a Saturday came unto\nKing Arthur all the senators that were left alive, and the noblest\ncardinals that then dwelt in Rome, and prayed him of peace, and\nproferred him full large, and besought him as governor to give licence\nfor six weeks for to assemble all the Romans, and then to crown him\nemperor with chrism as it belongeth to so high estate. I assent, said\nthe king, like as ye have devised, and at Christmas there to be\ncrowned, and to hold my Round Table with my knights as me liketh. And\nthen the senators made ready for his enthronization. And at the day\nappointed, as the romance telleth, he came into Rome, and was crowned\nemperor by the pope\u2019s hand, with all the royalty that could be made,\nand sojourned there a time, and established all his lands from Rome\ninto France, and gave lands and realms unto his servants and knights,\nto everych after his desert, in such wise that none complained, rich\nnor poor. And he gave to Sir Priamus the duchy of Lorraine; and he\nthanked him, and said he would serve him the days of his life; and\nafter made dukes and earls, and made every man rich.\nThen after this all his knights and lords assembled them afore him, and\nsaid: Blessed be God, your war is finished and your conquest achieved,\nin so much that we know none so great nor mighty that dare make war\nagainst you: wherefore we beseech you to return homeward, and give us\nlicence to go home to our wives, from whom we have been long, and to\nrest us, for your journey is finished with honour and worship. Then\nsaid the king, Ye say truth, and for to tempt God it is no wisdom, and\ntherefore make you ready and return we into England. Then there was\ntrussing of harness and baggage and great carriage. And after licence\ngiven, he returned and commanded that no man in pain of death should\nnot rob nor take victual, nor other thing by the way but that he should\npay therefore. And thus he came over the sea and landed at Sandwich,\nagainst whom Queen Guenever his wife came and met him, and he was nobly\nreceived of all his commons in every city and burgh, and great gifts\npresented to him at his home-coming to welcome him with.\nThus endeth the fifth book of the conquest that King Arthur had against\nLucius the Emperor of Rome, and here followeth the sixth book, which is\nof Sir Launcelot du Lake.\nBOOK VI.\nCHAPTER I. How Sir Launcelot and Sir Lionel departed from the court,\nand how Sir Lionel left him sleeping and was taken.\nSoon after that King Arthur was come from Rome into England, then all\nthe knights of the Table Round resorted unto the king, and made many\njousts and tournaments, and some there were that were but knights,\nwhich increased so in arms and worship that they passed all their\nfellows in prowess and noble deeds, and that was well proved on many;\nbut in especial it was proved on Sir Launcelot du Lake, for in all\ntournaments and jousts and deeds of arms, both for life and death, he\npassed all other knights, and at no time he was never overcome but if\nit were by treason or enchantment; so Sir Launcelot increased so\nmarvellously in worship, and in honour, therefore is he the first\nknight that the French book maketh mention of after King Arthur came\nfrom Rome. Wherefore Queen Guenever had him in great favour above all\nother knights, and in certain he loved the queen again above all other\nladies and damosels of his life, and for her he did many deeds of arms,\nand saved her from the fire through his noble chivalry.\nThus Sir Launcelot rested him long with play and game. And then he\nthought himself to prove himself in strange adventures, then he bade\nhis nephew, Sir Lionel, for to make him ready; for we two will seek\nadventures. So they mounted on their horses, armed at all rights, and\nrode into a deep forest and so into a deep plain. And then the weather\nwas hot about noon, and Sir Launcelot had great lust to sleep. Then Sir\nLionel espied a great apple-tree that stood by an hedge, and said,\nBrother, yonder is a fair shadow, there may we rest us [and] our\nhorses. It is well said, fair brother, said Sir Launcelot, for this\neight year I was not so sleepy as I am now; and so they there alighted\nand tied their horses unto sundry trees, and so Sir Launcelot laid him\ndown under an appletree, and his helm he laid under his head. And Sir\nLionel waked while he slept. So Sir Launcelot was asleep passing fast.\nAnd in the meanwhile there came three knights riding, as fast fleeing\nas ever they might ride. And there followed them three but one knight.\nAnd when Sir Lionel saw him, him thought he saw never so great a\nknight, nor so well faring a man, neither so well apparelled unto all\nrights. So within a while this strong knight had overtaken one of these\nknights, and there he smote him to the cold earth that he lay still.\nAnd then he rode unto the second knight, and smote him so that man and\nhorse fell down. And then straight to the third knight he rode, and\nsmote him behind his horse\u2019s arse a spear length. And then he alighted\ndown and reined his horse on the bridle, and bound all the three\nknights fast with the reins of their own bridles. When Sir Lionel saw\nhim do thus, he thought to assay him, and made him ready, and stilly\nand privily he took his horse, and thought not for to awake Sir\nLauncelot. And when he was mounted upon his horse, he overtook this\nstrong knight, and bade him turn, and the other smote Sir Lionel so\nhard that horse and man he bare to the earth, and so he alighted down\nand bound him fast, and threw him overthwart his own horse, and so he\nserved them all four, and rode with them away to his own castle. And\nwhen he came there he gart unarm them, and beat them with thorns all\nnaked, and after put them in a deep prison where were many more\nknights, that made great dolour.\nCHAPTER II. How Sir Ector followed for to seek Sir Launcelot, and how\nhe was taken by Sir Turquine.\nWhen Sir Ector de Maris wist that Sir Launcelot was passed out of the\ncourt to seek adventures, he was wroth with himself, and made him ready\nto seek Sir Launcelot, and as he had ridden long in a great forest he\nmet with a man was like a forester. Fair fellow, said Sir Ector,\nknowest thou in this country any adventures that be here nigh hand?\nSir, said the forester, this country know I well, and hereby, within\nthis mile, is a strong manor, and well dyked, and by that manor, on the\nleft hand, there is a fair ford for horses to drink of, and over that\nford there groweth a fair tree, and thereon hang many fair shields that\nwielded sometime good knights, and at the hole of the tree hangeth a\nbasin of copper and latten, and strike upon that basin with the butt of\nthy spear thrice, and soon after thou shalt hear new tidings, and else\nhast thou the fairest grace that many a year had ever knight that\npassed through this forest. Gramercy, said Sir Ector, and departed and\ncame to the tree, and saw many fair shields. And among them he saw his\nbrother\u2019s shield, Sir Lionel, and many more that he knew that were his\nfellows of the Round Table, the which grieved his heart, and promised\nto revenge his brother.\nThen anon Sir Ector beat on the basin as he were wood, and then he gave\nhis horse drink at the ford, and there came a knight behind him and\nbade him come out of the water and make him ready; and Sir Ector anon\nturned him shortly, and in feuter cast his spear, and smote the other\nknight a great buffet that his horse turned twice about. This was well\ndone, said the strong knight, and knightly thou hast stricken me; and\ntherewith he rushed his horse on Sir Ector, and cleight him under his\nright arm, and bare him clean out of the saddle, and rode with him away\ninto his own hall, and threw him down in midst of the floor. The name\nof this knight was Sir Turquine. Then he said unto Sir Ector, For thou\nhast done this day more unto me than any knight did these twelve years,\nnow will I grant thee thy life, so thou wilt be sworn to be my prisoner\nall thy life days. Nay, said Sir Ector, that will I never promise thee,\nbut that I will do mine advantage. That me repenteth, said Sir\nTurquine. And then he gart to unarm him, and beat him with thorns all\nnaked, and sithen put him down in a deep dungeon, where he knew many of\nhis fellows. But when Sir Ector saw Sir Lionel, then made he great\nsorrow. Alas, brother, said Sir Ector, where is my brother Sir\nLauncelot? Fair brother, I left him asleep when that I from him yode,\nunder an apple-tree, and what is become of him I cannot tell you. Alas,\nsaid the knights, but Sir Launcelot help us we may never be delivered,\nfor we know now no knight that is able to match our master Turquine.\nCHAPTER III. How four queens found Launcelot sleeping, and how by\nenchantment he was taken and led into a castle.\nNow leave we these knights prisoners, and speak we of Sir Launcelot du\nLake that lieth under the apple-tree sleeping. Even about the noon\nthere came by him four queens of great estate; and, for the heat should\nnot annoy them, there rode four knights about them, and bare a cloth of\ngreen silk on four spears, betwixt them and the sun, and the queens\nrode on four white mules. Thus as they rode they heard by them a great\nhorse grimly neigh, then were they ware of a sleeping knight, that lay\nall armed under an apple-tree; anon as these queens looked on his face,\nthey knew it was Sir Launcelot. Then they began for to strive for that\nknight, everych one said they would have him to her love. We shall not\nstrive, said Morgan le Fay, that was King Arthur\u2019s sister, I shall put\nan enchantment upon him that he shall not awake in six hours, and then\nI will lead him away unto my castle, and when he is surely within my\nhold, I shall take the enchantment from him, and then let him choose\nwhich of us he will have unto paramour.\nSo this enchantment was cast upon Sir Launcelot, and then they laid him\nupon his shield, and bare him so on horseback betwixt two knights, and\nbrought him unto the castle Chariot, and there they laid him in a\nchamber cold, and at night they sent unto him a fair damosel with his\nsupper ready dight. By that the enchantment was past, and when she came\nshe saluted him, and asked him what cheer. I cannot say, fair damosel,\nsaid Sir Launcelot, for I wot not how I came into this castle but it be\nby an enchantment. Sir, said she, ye must make good cheer, and if ye be\nsuch a knight as it is said ye be, I shall tell you more to-morn by\nprime of the day. Gramercy, fair damosel, said Sir Launcelot, of your\ngood will I require you. And so she departed. And there he lay all that\nnight without comfort of anybody. And on the morn early came these four\nqueens, passingly well beseen, all they bidding him good morn, and he\nthem again.\nSir knight, the four queens said, thou must understand thou art our\nprisoner, and we here know thee well that thou art Sir Launcelot du\nLake, King Ban\u2019s son, and because we understand your worthiness, that\nthou art the noblest knight living, and as we know well there can no\nlady have thy love but one, and that is Queen Guenever, and now thou\nshalt lose her for ever, and she thee, and therefore thee behoveth now\nto choose one of us four. I am the Queen Morgan le Fay, queen of the\nland of Gore, and here is the queen of Northgalis, and the queen of\nEastland, and the queen of the Out Isles; now choose one of us which\nthou wilt have to thy paramour, for thou mayest not choose or else in\nthis prison to die. This is an hard case, said Sir Launcelot, that\neither I must die or else choose one of you, yet had I liefer to die in\nthis prison with worship, than to have one of you to my paramour maugre\nmy head. And therefore ye be answered, I will none of you, for ye be\nfalse enchantresses, and as for my lady, Dame Guenever, were I at my\nliberty as I was, I would prove it on you or on yours, that she is the\ntruest lady unto her lord living. Well, said the queens, is this your\nanswer, that ye will refuse us. Yea, on my life, said Sir Launcelot,\nrefused ye be of me. So they departed and left him there alone that\nmade great sorrow.\nCHAPTER IV. How Sir Launcelot was delivered by the mean of a damosel.\nRight so at the noon came the damosel unto him with his dinner, and\nasked him what cheer. Truly, fair damosel, said Sir Launcelot, in my\nlife days never so ill. Sir, she said, that me repenteth, but an ye\nwill be ruled by me, I shall help you out of this distress, and ye\nshall have no shame nor villainy, so that ye hold me a promise. Fair\ndamosel, I will grant you, and sore I am of these queen-sorceresses\nafeard, for they have destroyed many a good knight. Sir, said she, that\nis sooth, and for the renown and bounty that they hear of you they\nwould have your love, and Sir, they say, your name is Sir Launcelot du\nLake, the flower of knights, and they be passing wroth with you that ye\nhave refused them. But Sir, an ye would promise me to help my father on\nTuesday next coming, that hath made a tournament betwixt him and the\nKing of Northgalis\u2014for the last Tuesday past my father lost the field\nthrough three knights of Arthur\u2019s court\u2014an ye will be there on Tuesday\nnext coming, and help my father, to-morn or prime, by the grace of God,\nI shall deliver you clean. Fair maiden, said Sir Launcelot, tell me\nwhat is your father\u2019s name, and then shall I give you an answer. Sir\nknight, she said, my father is King Bagdemagus, that was foul rebuked\nat the last tournament. I know your father well, said Sir Launcelot,\nfor a noble king and a good knight, and by the faith of my body, ye\nshall have my body ready to do your father and you service at that day.\nSir, she said, gramercy, and to-morn await ye be ready betimes and I\nshall be she that shall deliver you and take you your armour and your\nhorse, shield and spear, and hereby within this ten mile, is an abbey\nof white monks, there I pray you that ye me abide, and thither shall I\nbring my father unto you. All this shall be done, said Sir Launcelot as\nI am true knight.\nAnd so she departed, and came on the morn early, and found him ready;\nthen she brought him out of twelve locks, and brought him unto his\narmour, and when he was clean armed, she brought him until his own\nhorse, and lightly he saddled him and took a great spear in his hand\nand so rode forth, and said, Fair damosel, I shall not fail you, by the\ngrace of God. And so he rode into a great forest all that day, and\nnever could find no highway and so the night fell on him, and then was\nhe ware in a slade, of a pavilion of red sendal. By my faith, said Sir\nLauncelot, in that pavilion will I lodge all this night, and so there\nhe alighted down, and tied his horse to the pavilion, and there he\nunarmed him, and there he found a bed, and laid him therein and fell\nasleep sadly.\nCHAPTER V. How a knight found Sir Launcelot lying in his leman\u2019s bed,\nand how Sir Launcelot fought with the knight.\nThen within an hour there came the knight to whom the pavilion ought,\nand he weened that his leman had lain in that bed, and so he laid him\ndown beside Sir Launcelot, and took him in his arms and began to kiss\nhim. And when Sir Launcelot felt a rough beard kissing him, he started\nout of the bed lightly, and the other knight after him, and either of\nthem gat their swords in their hands, and out at the pavilion door went\nthe knight of the pavilion, and Sir Launcelot followed him, and there\nby a little slake Sir Launcelot wounded him sore, nigh unto the death.\nAnd then he yielded him unto Sir Launcelot, and so he granted him, so\nthat he would tell him why he came into the bed. Sir, said the knight,\nthe pavilion is mine own, and there this night I had assigned my lady\nto have slept with me, and now I am likely to die of this wound. That\nme repenteth, said Launcelot, of your hurt, but I was adread of\ntreason, for I was late beguiled, and therefore come on your way into\nyour pavilion and take your rest, and as I suppose I shall staunch your\nblood. And so they went both into the pavilion, and anon Sir Launcelot\nstaunched his blood.\nTherewithal came the knight\u2019s lady, that was a passing fair lady, and\nwhen she espied that her lord Belleus was sore wounded, she cried out\non Sir Launcelot, and made great dole out of measure. Peace, my lady\nand my love, said Belleus, for this knight is a good man, and a knight\nadventurous, and there he told her all the cause how he was wounded;\nAnd when that I yielded me unto him, he left me goodly and hath\nstaunched my blood. Sir, said the lady, I require thee tell me what\nknight ye be, and what is your name? Fair lady, he said, my name is Sir\nLauncelot du Lake. So me thought ever by your speech, said the lady,\nfor I have seen you oft or this, and I know you better than ye ween.\nBut now an ye would promise me of your courtesy, for the harms that ye\nhave done to me and my Lord Belleus, that when he cometh unto Arthur\u2019s\ncourt for to cause him to be made knight of the Round Table, for he is\na passing good man of arms, and a mighty lord of lands of many out\nisles.\nFair lady, said Sir Launcelot, let him come unto the court the next\nhigh feast, and look that ye come with him, and I shall do my power, an\nye prove you doughty of your hands, that ye shall have your desire. So\nthus within a while, as they thus talked, the night passed, and the day\nshone, and then Sir Launcelot armed him, and took his horse, and they\ntaught him to the Abbey, and thither he rode within the space of two\nhours.\nCHAPTER VI. How Sir Launcelot was received of King Bagdemagus\u2019\ndaughter, and how he made his complaint to her father.\nAnd soon as Sir Launcelot came within the abbey yard, the daughter of\nKing Bagdemagus heard a great horse go on the pavement. And she then\narose and yede unto a window, and there she saw Sir Launcelot, and anon\nshe made men fast to take his horse from him and let lead him into a\nstable, and himself was led into a fair chamber, and unarmed him, and\nthe lady sent him a long gown, and anon she came herself. And then she\nmade Launcelot passing good cheer, and she said he was the knight in\nthe world was most welcome to her. Then in all haste she sent for her\nfather Bagdemagus that was within twelve mile of that Abbey, and afore\neven he came, with a fair fellowship of knights with him. And when the\nking was alighted off his horse he yode straight unto Sir Launcelot\u2019s\nchamber and there he found his daughter, and then the king embraced Sir\nLauncelot in his arms, and either made other good cheer.\nAnon Sir Launcelot made his complaint unto the king how he was\nbetrayed, and how his brother Sir Lionel was departed from him he wist\nnot where, and how his daughter had delivered him out of prison;\nTherefore while I live I shall do her service and all her kindred. Then\nam I sure of your help, said the king, on Tuesday next coming. Yea,\nsir, said Sir Launcelot, I shall not fail you, for so I have promised\nmy lady your daughter. But, sir, what knights be they of my lord\nArthur\u2019s that were with the King of Northgalis? And the king said it\nwas Sir Mador de la Porte, and Sir Mordred and Sir Gahalantine that all\nfor-fared my knights, for against them three I nor my knights might\nbear no strength. Sir, said Sir Launcelot, as I hear say that the\ntournament shall be here within this three mile of this abbey, ye shall\nsend unto me three knights of yours, such as ye trust, and look that\nthe three knights have all white shields, and I also, and no painture\non the shields, and we four will come out of a little wood in midst of\nboth parties, and we shall fall in the front of our enemies and grieve\nthem that we may; and thus shall I not be known what knight I am.\nSo they took their rest that night, and this was on the Sunday, and so\nthe king departed, and sent unto Sir Launcelot three knights with the\nfour white shields. And on the Tuesday they lodged them in a little\nleaved wood beside there the tournament should be. And there were\nscaffolds and holes that lords and ladies might behold and to give the\nprize. Then came into the field the King of Northgalis with eight score\nhelms. And then the three knights of Arthur\u2019s stood by themselves. Then\ncame into the field King Bagdemagus with four score of helms. And then\nthey feutred their spears, and came together with a great dash, and\nthere were slain of knights at the first recounter twelve of King\nBagdemagus\u2019 party, and six of the King of Northgalis\u2019 party, and King\nBagdemagus\u2019 party was far set aback.\nCHAPTER VII. How Sir Launcelot behaved him in a tournament, and how he\nmet with Sir Turquine leading Sir Gaheris.\nWith that came Sir Launcelot du Lake, and he thrust in with his spear\nin the thickest of the press, and there he smote down with one spear\nfive knights, and of four of them he brake their backs. And in that\nthrong he smote down the King of Northgalis, and brake his thigh in\nthat fall. All this doing of Sir Launcelot saw the three knights of\nArthur\u2019s. Yonder is a shrewd guest, said Sir Mador de la Porte,\ntherefore have here once at him. So they encountered, and Sir Launcelot\nbare him down horse and man, so that his shoulder went out of lith. Now\nbefalleth it to me to joust, said Mordred, for Sir Mador hath a sore\nfall. Sir Launcelot was ware of him, and gat a great spear in his hand,\nand met him, and Sir Mordred brake a spear upon him, and Sir Launcelot\ngave him such a buffet that the arson of his saddle brake, and so he\nflew over his horse\u2019s tail, that his helm butted into the earth a foot\nand more, that nigh his neck was broken, and there he lay long in a\nswoon.\nThen came in Sir Gahalantine with a great spear and Launcelot against\nhim, with all their strength that they might drive, that both their\nspears to-brast even to their hands, and then they flang out with their\nswords and gave many a grim stroke. Then was Sir Launcelot wroth out of\nmeasure, and then he smote Sir Gahalantine on the helm that his nose\nbrast out on blood, and ears and mouth both, and therewith his head\nhung low. And therewith his horse ran away with him, and he fell down\nto the earth. Anon therewithal Sir Launcelot gat a great spear in his\nhand, and or ever that great spear brake, he bare down to the earth\nsixteen knights, some horse and man, and some the man and not the\nhorse, and there was none but that he hit surely, he bare none arms\nthat day. And then he gat another great spear, and smote down twelve\nknights, and the most part of them never throve after. And then the\nknights of the King of Northgalis would joust no more. And there the\ngree was given to King Bagdemagus.\nSo either party departed unto his own place, and Sir Launcelot rode\nforth with King Bagdemagus unto his castle, and there he had passing\ngood cheer both with the king and with his daughter, and they proffered\nhim great gifts. And on the morn he took his leave, and told the king\nthat he would go and seek his brother Sir Lionel, that went from him\nwhen that he slept, so he took his horse, and betaught them all to God.\nAnd there he said unto the king\u2019s daughter, If ye have need any time of\nmy service I pray you let me have knowledge, and I shall not fail you\nas I am true knight. And so Sir Launcelot departed, and by adventure he\ncame into the same forest there he was taken sleeping. And in the midst\nof a highway he met a damosel riding on a white palfrey, and there\neither saluted other. Fair damosel, said Sir Launcelot, know ye in this\ncountry any adventures? Sir knight, said that damosel, here are\nadventures near hand, an thou durst prove them. Why should I not prove\nadventures? said Sir Launcelot for that cause come I hither. Well, said\nshe, thou seemest well to be a good knight, and if thou dare meet with\na good knight, I shall bring thee where is the best knight, and the\nmightiest that ever thou found, so thou wilt tell me what is thy name,\nand what knight thou art. Damosel, as for to tell thee my name I take\nno great force; truly my name is Sir Launcelot du Lake. Sir, thou\nbeseemest well, here be adventures by that fall for thee, for hereby\ndwelleth a knight that will not be overmatched for no man I know but ye\novermatch him, and his name is Sir Turquine. And, as I understand, he\nhath in his prison, of Arthur\u2019s court, good knights three score and\nfour, that he hath won with his own hands. But when ye have done that\njourney ye shall promise me as ye are a true knight for to go with me,\nand to help me and other damosels that are distressed daily with a\nfalse knight. All your intent, damosel, and desire I will fulfil, so ye\nwill bring me unto this knight. Now, fair knight, come on your way; and\nso she brought him unto the ford and the tree where hung the basin.\nSo Sir Launcelot let his horse drink, and then he beat on the basin\nwith the butt of his spear so hard with all his might till the bottom\nfell out, and long he did so, but he saw nothing. Then he rode endlong\nthe gates of that manor nigh half-an-hour. And then was he ware of a\ngreat knight that drove an horse afore him, and overthwart the horse\nthere lay an armed knight bound. And ever as they came near and near,\nSir Launcelot thought he should know him. Then Sir Launcelot was ware\nthat it was Sir Gaheris, Gawaine\u2019s brother, a knight of the Table\nRound. Now, fair damosel, said Sir Launcelot, I see yonder cometh a\nknight fast bounden that is a fellow of mine, and brother he is unto\nSir Gawaine. And at the first beginning I promise you, by the leave of\nGod, to rescue that knight; but if his master sit better in the saddle\nI shall deliver all the prisoners that he hath out of danger, for I am\nsure he hath two brethren of mine prisoners with him. By that time that\neither had seen other, they gripped their spears unto them. Now, fair\nknight, said Sir Launcelot, put that wounded knight off the horse, and\nlet him rest awhile, and let us two prove our strengths; for as it is\ninformed me, thou doest and hast done great despite and shame unto\nknights of the Round Table, and therefore now defend thee. An thou be\nof the Table Round, said Turquine, I defy thee and all thy fellowship.\nThat is overmuch said, said Sir Launcelot.\nCHAPTER VIII. How Sir Launcelot and Sir Turquine fought together.\nAnd then they put their spears in the rests, and came together with\ntheir horses as fast as they might run, and either smote other in midst\nof their shields, that both their horses\u2019 backs brast under them, and\nthe knights were both stonied. And as soon as they might avoid their\nhorses, they took their shields afore them, and drew out their swords,\nand came together eagerly, and either gave other many strong strokes,\nfor there might neither shields nor harness hold their strokes. And so\nwithin a while they had both grimly wounds, and bled passing\ngrievously. Thus they fared two hours or more trasing and rasing either\nother, where they might hit any bare place.\nThen at the last they were breathless both, and stood leaning on their\nswords. Now fellow, said Sir Turquine, hold thy hand a while, and tell\nme what I shall ask thee. Say on. Then Turquine said, Thou art the\nbiggest man that ever I met withal, and the best breathed, and like one\nknight that I hate above all other knights; so be it that thou be not\nhe I will lightly accord with thee, and for thy love I will deliver all\nthe prisoners that I have, that is three score and four, so thou wilt\ntell me thy name. And thou and I we will be fellows together, and never\nto fail thee while that I live. It is well said, said Sir Launcelot,\nbut sithen it is so that I may have thy friendship, what knight is he\nthat thou so hatest above all other? Faithfully, said Sir Turquine, his\nname is Sir Launcelot du Lake, for he slew my brother, Sir Carados, at\nthe dolorous tower, that was one of the best knights alive; and\ntherefore him I except of all knights, for may I once meet with him,\nthe one of us shall make an end of other, I make mine avow. And for Sir\nLauncelot\u2019s sake I have slain an hundred good knights, and as many I\nhave maimed all utterly that they might never after help themselves,\nand many have died in prison, and yet have I three score and four, and\nall shall be delivered so thou wilt tell me thy name, so be it that\nthou be not Sir Launcelot.\nNow, see I well, said Sir Launcelot, that such a man I might be, I\nmight have peace, and such a man I might be, that there should be war\nmortal betwixt us. And now, sir knight, at thy request I will that thou\nwit and know that I am Launcelot du Lake, King Ban\u2019s son of Benwick,\nand very knight of the Table Round. And now I defy thee, and do thy\nbest. Ah, said Turquine, Launcelot, thou art unto me most welcome that\never was knight, for we shall never depart till the one of us be dead.\nThen they hurtled together as two wild bulls rushing and lashing with\ntheir shields and swords, that sometime they fell both over their\nnoses. Thus they fought still two hours and more, and never would have\nrest, and Sir Turquine gave Sir Launcelot many wounds that all the\nground thereas they fought was all bespeckled with blood.\nCHAPTER IX. How Sir Turquine was slain, and how Sir Launcelot bade Sir\nGaheris deliver all the prisoners.\nThen at the last Sir Turquine waxed faint, and gave somewhat aback, and\nbare his shield low for weariness. That espied Sir Launcelot, and leapt\nupon him fiercely and gat him by the beaver of his helmet, and plucked\nhim down on his knees, and anon he raced off his helm, and smote his\nneck in sunder. And when Sir Launcelot had done this, he yode unto the\ndamosel and said, Damosel, I am ready to go with you where ye will have\nme, but I have no horse. Fair sir, said she, take this wounded knight\u2019s\nhorse and send him into this manor, and command him to deliver all the\nprisoners. So Sir Launcelot went unto Gaheris, and prayed him not to be\naggrieved for to lend him his horse. Nay, fair lord, said Gaheris, I\nwill that ye take my horse at your own commandment, for ye have both\nsaved me and my horse, and this day I say ye are the best knight in the\nworld, for ye have slain this day in my sight the mightiest man and the\nbest knight except you that ever I saw, and, fair sir, said Gaheris, I\npray you tell me your name. Sir, my name is Sir Launcelot du Lake, that\nought to help you of right for King Arthur\u2019s sake, and in especial for\nmy lord Sir Gawaine\u2019s sake, your own dear brother; and when that ye\ncome within yonder manor, I am sure ye shall find there many knights of\nthe Round Table, for I have seen many of their shields that I know on\nyonder tree. There is Kay\u2019s shield, and Sir Brandel\u2019s shield, and Sir\nMarhaus\u2019 shield, and Sir Galind\u2019s shield, and Sir Brian de Listnois\u2019\nshield, and Sir Aliduke\u2019s shield, with many more that I am not now\nadvised of, and also my two brethren\u2019s shields, Sir Ector de Maris and\nSir Lionel; wherefore I pray you greet them all from me, and say that I\nbid them take such stuff there as they find, and that in any wise my\nbrethren go unto the court and abide me there till that I come, for by\nthe feast of Pentecost I cast me to be there, for as at this time I\nmust ride with this damosel for to save my promise.\nAnd so he departed from Gaheris, and Gaheris yede in to the manor, and\nthere he found a yeoman porter keeping there many keys. Anon withal Sir\nGaheris threw the porter unto the ground and took the keys from him,\nand hastily he opened the prison door, and there he let out all the\nprisoners, and every man loosed other of their bonds. And when they saw\nSir Gaheris, all they thanked him, for they weened that he was wounded.\nNot so, said Gaheris, it was Launcelot that slew him worshipfully with\nhis own hands. I saw it with mine own eyes. And he greeteth you all\nwell, and prayeth you to haste you to the court; and as unto Sir Lionel\nand Ector de Maris he prayeth you to abide him at the court. That shall\nwe not do, says his brethren, we will find him an we may live. So shall\nI, said Sir Kay, find him or I come at the court, as I am true knight.\nThen all those knights sought the house thereas the armour was, and\nthen they armed them, and every knight found his own horse, and all\nthat ever longed unto him. And when this was done, there came a\nforester with four horses laden with fat venison. Anon, Sir Kay said,\nHere is good meat for us for one meal, for we had not many a day no\ngood repast. And so that venison was roasted, baken, and sodden, and so\nafter supper some abode there all night, but Sir Lionel and Ector de\nMaris and Sir Kay rode after Sir Launcelot to find him if they might.\nCHAPTER X. How Sir Launcelot rode with a damosel and slew a knight that\ndistressed all ladies and also a villain that kept a bridge.\nNow turn we unto Sir Launcelot, that rode with the damosel in a fair\nhighway. Sir, said the damosel, here by this way haunteth a knight that\ndistressed all ladies and gentlewomen, and at the least he robbeth them\nor lieth by them. What, said Sir Launcelot, is he a thief and a knight\nand a ravisher of women? he doth shame unto the order of knighthood,\nand contrary unto his oath; it is pity that he liveth. But, fair\ndamosel, ye shall ride on afore, yourself, and I will keep myself in\ncovert, and if that he trouble you or distress you I shall be your\nrescue and learn him to be ruled as a knight.\nSo the maid rode on by the way a soft ambling pace, and within a while\ncame out that knight on horseback out of the wood, and his page with\nhim, and there he put the damosel from her horse, and then she cried.\nWith that came Launcelot as fast as he might till he came to that\nknight, saying, O thou false knight and traitor unto knighthood, who\ndid learn thee to distress ladies and gentlewomen? When the knight saw\nSir Launcelot thus rebuking him he answered not, but drew his sword and\nrode unto Sir Launcelot, and Sir Launcelot threw his spear from him,\nand drew out his sword, and struck him such a buffet on the helmet that\nhe clave his head and neck unto the throat. Now hast thou thy payment\nthat long thou hast deserved! That is truth, said the damosel, for like\nas Sir Turquine watched to destroy knights, so did this knight attend\nto destroy and distress ladies, damosels, and gentlewomen, and his name\nwas Sir Peris de Forest Savage. Now, damosel, said Sir Launcelot, will\nye any more service of me? Nay, sir, she said, at this time, but\nalmighty Jesu preserve you wheresomever ye ride or go, for the curteist\nknight thou art, and meekest unto all ladies and gentlewomen, that now\nliveth. But one thing, sir knight, methinketh ye lack, ye that are a\nknight wifeless, that he will not love some maiden or gentlewoman, for\nI could never hear say that ever ye loved any of no manner degree, and\nthat is great pity; but it is noised that ye love Queen Guenever, and\nthat she hath ordained by enchantment that ye shall never love none\nother but her, nor none other damosel nor lady shall rejoice you;\nwherefore many in this land, of high estate and low, make great sorrow.\nFair damosel, said Sir Launcelot, I may not warn people to speak of me\nwhat it pleaseth them; but for to be a wedded man, I think it not; for\nthen I must couch with her, and leave arms and tournaments, battles,\nand adventures; and as for to say for to take my pleasaunce with\nparamours, that will I refuse in principal for dread of God; for\nknights that be adventurous or lecherous shall not be happy nor\nfortunate unto the wars, for other they shall be overcome with a\nsimpler knight than they be themselves, other else they shall by unhap\nand their cursedness slay better men than they be themselves. And so\nwho that useth paramours shall be unhappy, and all thing is unhappy\nthat is about them.\nAnd so Sir Launcelot and she departed. And then he rode in a deep\nforest two days and more, and had strait lodging. So on the third day\nhe rode over a long bridge, and there stert upon him suddenly a passing\nfoul churl, and he smote his horse on the nose that he turned about,\nand asked him why he rode over that bridge without his licence. Why\nshould I not ride this way? said Sir Launcelot, I may not ride beside.\nThou shalt not choose, said the churl, and lashed at him with a great\nclub shod with iron. Then Sir Launcelot drew his sword and put the\nstroke aback, and clave his head unto the paps. At the end of the\nbridge was a fair village, and all the people, men and women, cried on\nSir Launcelot, and said, A worse deed didst thou never for thyself, for\nthou hast slain the chief porter of our castle. Sir Launcelot let them\nsay what they would, and straight he went into the castle; and when he\ncame into the castle he alighted, and tied his horse to a ring on the\nwall and there he saw a fair green court, and thither he dressed him,\nfor there him thought was a fair place to fight in. So he looked about,\nand saw much people in doors and windows that said, Fair knight, thou\nart unhappy.\nCHAPTER XI. How Sir Launcelot slew two giants, and made a castle free.\nAnon withal came there upon him two great giants, well armed all save\nthe heads, with two horrible clubs in their hands. Sir Launcelot put\nhis shield afore him and put the stroke away of the one giant, and with\nhis sword he clave his head asunder. When his fellow saw that, he ran\naway as he were wood, for fear of the horrible strokes, and Launcelot\nafter him with all his might, and smote him on the shoulder, and clave\nhim to the navel. Then Sir Launcelot went into the hall, and there came\nafore him three score ladies and damosels, and all kneeled unto him,\nand thanked God and him of their deliverance; For sir, said they, the\nmost party of us have been here this seven year their prisoners, and we\nhave worked all manner of silk works for our meat, and we are all great\ngentlewomen born; and blessed be the time, knight, that ever thou be\nborn, for thou hast done the most worship that ever did knight in this\nworld, that will we bear record, and we all pray you to tell us your\nname, that we may tell our friends who delivered us out of prison. Fair\ndamosel, he said, my name is Sir Launcelot du Lake. Ah, sir, said they\nall, well mayest thou be he, for else save yourself, as we deemed,\nthere might never knight have the better of these two giants; for many\nfair knights have assayed it, and here have ended, and many times have\nwe wished after you, and these two giants dread never knight but you.\nNow may ye say, said Sir Launcelot, unto your friends how and who hath\ndelivered you, and greet them all from me, and if that I come in any of\nyour marches, show me such cheer as ye have cause, and what treasure\nthat there in this castle is I give it you for a reward for your\ngrievance, and the lord that is owner of this castle I would he\nreceived it as is right. Fair sir, said they, the name of this castle\nis Tintagil, and a duke ought it sometime that had wedded fair Igraine,\nand after wedded her Uther Pendragon, and gat on her Arthur. Well, said\nSir Launcelot, I understand to whom this castle longeth; and so he\ndeparted from them, and betaught them unto God.\nAnd then he mounted upon his horse, and rode into many strange and wild\ncountries, and through many waters and valleys, and evil was he lodged.\nAnd at the last by fortune him happened, against a night, to come to a\nfair courtelage, and therein he found an old gentlewoman that lodged\nhim with good will, and there he had good cheer for him and his horse.\nAnd when time was, his host brought him into a fair garret, over the\ngate, to his bed. There Sir Launcelot unarmed him, and set his harness\nby him, and went to bed, and anon he fell asleep. So, soon after, there\ncame one on horseback, and knocked at the gate in great haste, and when\nSir Launcelot heard this, he arose up and looked out at the window, and\nsaw by the moonlight three knights came riding after that one man, and\nall three lashed on him at once with swords, and that one knight turned\non them knightly again, and defended him. Truly, said Sir Launcelot,\nyonder one knight shall I help, for it were shame for me to see three\nknights on one, and if he be slain I am partner of his death; and\ntherewith he took his harness, and went out at a window by a sheet down\nto the four knights, and then Sir Launcelot said on high, Turn you\nknights unto me, and leave your fighting with that knight. And then\nthey all three left Sir Kay, and turned unto Sir Launcelot, and there\nbegan great battle, for they alighted all three, and struck many great\nstrokes at Sir Launcelot, and assailed him on every side. Then Sir Kay\ndressed him for to have holpen Sir Launcelot. Nay, sir, said he, I will\nnone of your help; therefore as ye will have my help, let me alone with\nthem. Sir Kay, for the pleasure of the knight, suffered him for to do\nhis will, and so stood aside. And then anon within six strokes, Sir\nLauncelot had stricken them to the earth.\nAnd then they all three cried: Sir knight, we yield us unto you as a\nman of might makeless. As to that, said Sir Launcelot, I will not take\nyour yielding unto me. But so that ye will yield you unto Sir Kay the\nSeneschal, on that covenant I will save your lives, and else not. Fair\nknight, said they, that were we loath to do; for as for Sir Kay, we\nchased him hither, and had overcome him had not ye been, therefore to\nyield us unto him it were no reason. Well, as to that, said Launcelot,\nadvise you well, for ye may choose whether ye will die or live, for an\nye be yolden it shall be unto Sir Kay. Fair knight, then they said, in\nsaving of our lives we will do as thou commandest us. Then shall ye,\nsaid Sir Launcelot, on Whitsunday next coming, go unto the court of\nKing Arthur, and there shall ye yield you unto Queen Guenever, and put\nyou all three in her grace and mercy, and say that Sir Kay sent you\nthither to be her prisoners. Sir, they said, it shall be done by the\nfaith of our bodies, an we be living, and there they swore every knight\nupon his sword. And so Sir Launcelot suffered them so to depart. And\nthen Sir Launcelot knocked at the gate with the pommel of his sword,\nand with that came his host, and in they entered Sir Kay and he. Sir,\nsaid his host, I weened ye had been in your bed. So I was, said Sir\nLauncelot, but I rose and leapt out at my window for to help an old\nfellow of mine. And so when they came nigh the light, Sir Kay knew well\nthat it was Sir Launcelot, and therewith he kneeled down and thanked\nhim of all his kindness that he had holpen him twice from the death.\nSir, he said, I have nothing done but that me ought for to do, and ye\nare welcome, and here shall ye repose you and take your rest.\nSo when Sir Kay was unarmed, he asked after meat; so there was meat\nfetched him, and he ate strongly. And when he had supped they went to\ntheir beds and were lodged together in one bed. On the morn Sir\nLauncelot arose early, and left Sir Kay sleeping, and Sir Launcelot\ntook Sir Kay\u2019s armour and his shield, and armed him, and so he went to\nthe stable, and took his horse, and took his leave of his host, and so\nhe departed. Then soon after arose Sir Kay and missed Sir Launcelot.\nAnd then he espied that he had his armour and his horse. Now by my\nfaith I know well that he will grieve some of the court of King Arthur;\nfor on him knights will be bold, and deem that it is I, and that will\nbeguile them. And because of his armour and shield I am sure I shall\nride in peace. And then soon after departed Sir Kay and thanked his\nhost.\nCHAPTER XII. How Sir Launcelot rode disguised in Sir Kay\u2019s harness, and\nhow he smote down a knight.\nNow turn we unto Sir Launcelot that had ridden long in a great forest,\nand at the last he came into a low country, full of fair rivers and\nmeadows. And afore him he saw a long bridge, and three pavilions stood\nthereon, of silk and sendal of divers hue. And without the pavilions\nhung three white shields on truncheons of spears, and great long spears\nstood upright by the pavilions, and at every pavilion\u2019s door stood\nthree fresh squires, and so Sir Launcelot passed by them and spake no\nword. When he was passed the three knights said them that it was the\nproud Kay; He weeneth no knight so good as he, and the contrary is\nofttime proved. By my faith, said one of the knights, his name was Sir\nGaunter, I will ride after him and assay him for all his pride, and ye\nmay behold how that I speed. So this knight, Sir Gaunter, armed him,\nand hung his shield upon his shoulder, and mounted upon a great horse,\nand gat his spear in his hand, and walloped after Sir Launcelot. And\nwhen he came nigh him, he cried, Abide, thou proud knight Sir Kay, for\nthou shalt not pass quit. So Sir Launcelot turned him, and either\nfeutred their spears, and came together with all their mights, and Sir\nGaunter\u2019s spear brake, but Sir Launcelot smote him down horse and man.\nAnd when Sir Gaunter was at the earth his brethren said each one to\nother, Yonder knight is not Sir Kay, for he is bigger than he. I dare\nlay my head, said Sir Gilmere, yonder knight hath slain Sir Kay and\nhath taken his horse and his harness. Whether it be so or no, said Sir\nRaynold, the third brother, let us now go mount upon our horses and\nrescue our brother Sir Gaunter, upon pain of death. We all shall have\nwork enough to match that knight, for ever meseemeth by his person it\nis Sir Launcelot, or Sir Tristram, or Sir Pelleas, the good knight.\nThen anon they took their horses and overtook Sir Launcelot, and Sir\nGilmere put forth his spear, and ran to Sir Launcelot, and Sir\nLauncelot smote him down that he lay in a swoon. Sir knight, said Sir\nRaynold, thou art a strong man, and as I suppose thou hast slain my two\nbrethren, for the which raseth my heart sore against thee, and if I\nmight with my worship I would not have ado with you, but needs I must\ntake part as they do, and therefore, knight, he said, keep thyself. And\nso they hurtled together with all their mights, and all to-shivered\nboth their spears. And then they drew their swords and lashed together\neagerly. Anon therewith arose Sir Gaunter, and came unto his brother\nSir Gilmere, and bade him, Arise, and help we our brother Sir Raynold,\nthat yonder marvellously matched yonder good knight. Therewithal, they\nleapt on their horses and hurtled unto Sir Launcelot.\nAnd when he saw them come he smote a sore stroke unto Sir Raynold, that\nhe fell off his horse to the ground, and then he struck to the other\ntwo brethren, and at two strokes he struck them down to the earth. With\nthat Sir Raynold began to start up with his head all bloody, and came\nstraight unto Sir Launcelot. Now let be, said Sir Launcelot, I was not\nfar from thee when thou wert made knight, Sir Raynold, and also I know\nthou art a good knight, and loath I were to slay thee. Gramercy, said\nSir Raynold, as for your goodness; and I dare say as for me and my\nbrethren, we will not be loath to yield us unto you, with that we knew\nyour name, for well we know ye are not Sir Kay. As for that be it as it\nbe may, for ye shall yield you unto dame Guenever, and look that ye be\nwith her on Whitsunday, and yield you unto her as prisoners, and say\nthat Sir Kay sent you unto her. Then they swore it should be done, and\nso passed forth Sir Launcelot, and each one of the brethren holp other\nas well as they might.\nCHAPTER XIII. How Sir Launcelot jousted against four knights of the\nRound Table and overthrew them.\nSo Sir Launcelot rode into a deep forest, and thereby in a slade, he\nsaw four knights hoving under an oak, and they were of Arthur\u2019s court,\none was Sir Sagramour le Desirous, and Ector de Maris, and Sir Gawaine,\nand Sir Uwaine. Anon as these four knights had espied Sir Launcelot,\nthey weened by his arms it had been Sir Kay. Now by my faith, said Sir\nSagramour, I will prove Sir Kay\u2019s might, and gat his spear in his hand,\nand came toward Sir Launcelot. Therewith Sir Launcelot was ware and\nknew him well, and feutred his spear against him, and smote Sir\nSagramour so sore that horse and man fell both to the earth. Lo, my\nfellows, said he, yonder ye may see what a buffet he hath; that knight\nis much bigger than ever was Sir Kay. Now shall ye see what I may do to\nhim. So Sir Ector gat his spear in his hand and walloped toward Sir\nLauncelot, and Sir Launcelot smote him through the shield and shoulder,\nthat man and horse went to the earth, and ever his spear held.\nBy my faith, said Sir Uwaine, yonder is a strong knight, and I am sure\nhe hath slain Sir Kay; and I see by his great strength it will be hard\nto match him. And therewithal, Sir Uwaine gat his spear in his hand and\nrode toward Sir Launcelot, and Sir Launcelot knew him well, and so he\nmet him on the plain, and gave him such a buffet that he was astonied,\nthat long he wist not where he was. Now see I well, said Sir Gawaine, I\nmust encounter with that knight. Then he dressed his shield and gat a\ngood spear in his hand, and Sir Launcelot knew him well; and then they\nlet run their horses with all their mights, and either knight smote\nother in midst of the shield. But Sir Gawaine\u2019s spear to-brast, and Sir\nLauncelot charged so sore upon him that his horse reversed up-so-down.\nAnd much sorrow had Sir Gawaine to avoid his horse, and so Sir\nLauncelot passed on a pace and smiled, and said, God give him joy that\nthis spear made, for there came never a better in my hand.\nThen the four knights went each one to other and comforted each other.\nWhat say ye by this guest? said Sir Gawaine, that one spear hath felled\nus all four. We commend him unto the devil, they said all, for he is a\nman of great might. Ye may well say it, said Sir Gawaine, that he is a\nman of might, for I dare lay my head it is Sir Launcelot, I know it by\nhis riding. Let him go, said Sir Gawaine, for when we come to the court\nthen shall we wit; and then had they much sorrow to get their horses\nagain.\nCHAPTER XIV. How Sir Launcelot followed a brachet into a castle, where\nhe found a dead knight, and how he after was required of a damosel to\nheal her brother.\nNow leave we there and speak of Sir Launcelot that rode a great while\nin a deep forest, where he saw a black brachet, seeking in manner as it\nhad been in the feute of an hurt deer. And therewith he rode after the\nbrachet, and he saw lie on the ground a large feute of blood. And then\nSir Launcelot rode after. And ever the brachet looked behind her, and\nso she went through a great marsh, and ever Sir Launcelot followed. And\nthen was he ware of an old manor, and thither ran the brachet, and so\nover the bridge. So Sir Launcelot rode over that bridge that was old\nand feeble; and when he came in midst of a great hall, there he saw lie\na dead knight that was a seemly man, and that brachet licked his\nwounds. And therewithal came out a lady weeping and wringing her hands;\nand then she said, O knight, too much sorrow hast thou brought me. Why\nsay ye so? said Sir Launcelot, I did never this knight no harm, for\nhither by feute of blood this brachet brought me; and therefore, fair\nlady, be not displeased with me, for I am full sore aggrieved of your\ngrievance. Truly, sir, she said, I trow it be not ye that hath slain my\nhusband, for he that did that deed is sore wounded, and he is never\nlikely to recover, that shall I ensure him. What was your husband\u2019s\nname? said Sir Launcelot. Sir, said she, his name was called Sir\nGilbert the Bastard, one of the best knights of the world, and he that\nhath slain him I know not his name. Now God send you better comfort,\nsaid Sir Launcelot; and so he departed and went into the forest again,\nand there he met with a damosel, the which knew him well, and she said\naloud, Well be ye found, my lord; and now I require thee, on thy\nknighthood, help my brother that is sore wounded, and never stinteth\nbleeding; for this day he fought with Sir Gilbert the Bastard and slew\nhim in plain battle, and there was my brother sore wounded, and there\nis a lady a sorceress that dwelleth in a castle here beside, and this\nday she told me my brother\u2019s wounds should never be whole till I could\nfind a knight that would go into the Chapel Perilous, and there he\nshould find a sword and a bloody cloth that the wounded knight was\nlapped in, and a piece of that cloth and sword should heal my brother\u2019s\nwounds, so that his wounds were searched with the sword and the cloth.\nThis is a marvellous thing, said Sir Launcelot, but what is your\nbrother\u2019s name? Sir, she said, his name was Sir Meliot de Logres. That\nme repenteth, said Sir Launcelot, for he is a fellow of the Table\nRound, and to his help I will do my power. Then, sir, said she, follow\neven this highway, and it will bring you unto the Chapel Perilous; and\nhere I shall abide till God send you here again, and, but you speed, I\nknow no knight living that may achieve that adventure.\nCHAPTER XV. How Sir Launcelot came into the Chapel Perilous and gat\nthere of a dead corpse a piece of the cloth and a sword.\nRight so Sir Launcelot departed, and when he came unto the Chapel\nPerilous he alighted down, and tied his horse unto a little gate. And\nas soon as he was within the churchyard he saw on the front of the\nchapel many fair rich shields turned up-so-down, and many of the\nshields Sir Launcelot had seen knights bear beforehand. With that he\nsaw by him there stand a thirty great knights, more by a yard than any\nman that ever he had seen, and all those grinned and gnashed at Sir\nLauncelot. And when he saw their countenance he dreaded him sore, and\nso put his shield afore him, and took his sword ready in his hand ready\nunto battle, and they were all armed in black harness ready with their\nshields and their swords drawn. And when Sir Launcelot would have gone\nthroughout them, they scattered on every side of him, and gave him the\nway, and therewith he waxed all bold, and entered into the chapel, and\nthen he saw no light but a dim lamp burning, and then was he ware of a\ncorpse hilled with a cloth of silk. Then Sir Launcelot stooped down,\nand cut a piece away of that cloth, and then it fared under him as the\nearth had quaked a little; therewithal he feared. And then he saw a\nfair sword lie by the dead knight, and that he gat in his hand and hied\nhim out of the chapel.\nAnon as ever he was in the chapel yard all the knights spake to him\nwith a grimly voice, and said, Knight, Sir Launcelot, lay that sword\nfrom thee or else thou shalt die. Whether that I live or die, said Sir\nLauncelot, with no great word get ye it again, therefore fight for it\nan ye list. Then right so he passed throughout them, and beyond the\nchapel yard there met him a fair damosel, and said, Sir Launcelot,\nleave that sword behind thee, or thou wilt die for it. I leave it not,\nsaid Sir Launcelot, for no treaties. No, said she, an thou didst leave\nthat sword, Queen Guenever should thou never see. Then were I a fool an\nI would leave this sword, said Launcelot. Now, gentle knight, said the\ndamosel, I require thee to kiss me but once. Nay, said Sir Launcelot,\nthat God me forbid. Well, sir, said she, an thou hadst kissed me thy\nlife days had been done, but now, alas, she said, I have lost all my\nlabour, for I ordained this chapel for thy sake, and for Sir Gawaine.\nAnd once I had Sir Gawaine within me, and at that time he fought with\nthat knight that lieth there dead in yonder chapel, Sir Gilbert the\nBastard; and at that time he smote the left hand off of Sir Gilbert the\nBastard. And, Sir Launcelot, now I tell thee, I have loved thee this\nseven year, but there may no woman have thy love but Queen Guenever.\nBut sithen I may not rejoice thee to have thy body alive, I had kept no\nmore joy in this world but to have thy body dead. Then would I have\nbalmed it and served it, and so have kept it my life days, and daily I\nshould have clipped thee, and kissed thee, in despite of Queen\nGuenever. Ye say well, said Sir Launcelot, Jesu preserve me from your\nsubtle crafts. And therewithal he took his horse and so departed from\nher. And as the book saith, when Sir Launcelot was departed she took\nsuch sorrow that she died within a fourteen night, and her name was\nHellawes the sorceress, Lady of the Castle Nigramous.\nAnon Sir Launcelot met with the damosel, Sir Meliot\u2019s sister. And when\nshe saw him she clapped her hands, and wept for joy. And then they rode\nunto a castle thereby where lay Sir Meliot. And anon as Sir Launcelot\nsaw him he knew him, but he was passing pale, as the earth, for\nbleeding. When Sir Meliot saw Sir Launcelot he kneeled upon his knees\nand cried on high: O lord Sir Launcelot, help me! Anon Sir Launcelot\nleapt unto him and touched his wounds with Sir Gilbert\u2019s sword. And\nthen he wiped his wounds with a part of the bloody cloth that Sir\nGilbert was wrapped in, and anon an wholer man in his life was he\nnever. And then there was great joy between them, and they made Sir\nLauncelot all the cheer that they might, and so on the morn Sir\nLauncelot took his leave, and bade Sir Meliot hie him to the court of\nmy lord Arthur, for it draweth nigh to the Feast of Pentecost, and\nthere by the grace of God ye shall find me. And therewith they\ndeparted.\nCHAPTER XVI. How Sir Launcelot at the request of a lady recovered a\nfalcon, by which he was deceived.\nAnd so Sir Launcelot rode through many strange countries, over marshes\nand valleys, till by fortune he came to a fair castle, and as he passed\nbeyond the castle him thought he heard two bells ring. And then was he\nware of a falcon came flying over his head toward an high elm, and long\nlunes about her feet, and as she flew unto the elm to take her perch\nthe lunes over-cast about a bough. And when she would have taken her\nflight she hung by the legs fast; and Sir Launcelot saw how she hung,\nand beheld the fair falcon perigot, and he was sorry for her.\nThe meanwhile came a lady out of the castle and cried on high: O\nLauncelot, Launcelot, as thou art flower of all knights, help me to get\nmy hawk, for an my hawk be lost my lord will destroy me; for I kept the\nhawk and she slipped from me, and if my lord my husband wit it he is so\nhasty that he will slay me. What is your lord\u2019s name? said Sir\nLauncelot. Sir, she said, his name is Sir Phelot, a knight that longeth\nunto the King of Northgalis. Well, fair lady, since that ye know my\nname, and require me of knighthood to help you, I will do what I may to\nget your hawk, and yet God knoweth I am an ill climber, and the tree is\npassing high, and few boughs to help me withal. And therewith Sir\nLauncelot alighted, and tied his horse to the same tree, and prayed the\nlady to unarm him. And so when he was unarmed, he put off all his\nclothes unto his shirt and breech, and with might and force he clomb up\nto the falcon, and tied the lines to a great rotten boyshe, and threw\nthe hawk down and it withal.\nAnon the lady gat the hawk in her hand; and therewithal came out Sir\nPhelot out of the groves suddenly, that was her husband, all armed and\nwith his naked sword in his hand, and said: O knight Launcelot, now\nhave I found thee as I would, and stood at the bole of the tree to slay\nhim. Ah, lady, said Sir Launcelot, why have ye betrayed me? She hath\ndone, said Sir Phelot, but as I commanded her, and therefore there nis\nnone other boot but thine hour is come that thou must die. That were\nshame unto thee, said Sir Launcelot, thou an armed knight to slay a\nnaked man by treason. Thou gettest none other grace, said Sir Phelot,\nand therefore help thyself an thou canst. Truly, said Sir Launcelot,\nthat shall be thy shame, but since thou wilt do none other, take mine\nharness with thee, and hang my sword upon a bough that I may get it,\nand then do thy best to slay me an thou canst. Nay, nay, said Sir\nPhelot, for I know thee better than thou weenest, therefore thou\ngettest no weapon, an I may keep you therefrom. Alas, said Sir\nLauncelot, that ever a knight should die weaponless. And therewith he\nwaited above him and under him, and over his head he saw a rownsepyk, a\nbig bough leafless, and therewith he brake it off by the body. And then\nhe came lower and awaited how his own horse stood, and suddenly he\nleapt on the further side of the horse, fro-ward the knight. And then\nSir Phelot lashed at him eagerly, weening to have slain him. But Sir\nLauncelot put away the stroke with the rownsepyk, and therewith he\nsmote him on the one side of the head, that he fell down in a swoon to\nthe ground. So then Sir Launcelot took his sword out of his hand, and\nstruck his neck from the body. Then cried the lady, Alas! why hast thou\nslain my husband? I am not causer, said Sir Launcelot, for with\nfalsehood ye would have had slain me with treason, and now it is fallen\non you both. And then she swooned as though she would die. And\ntherewithal Sir Launcelot gat all his armour as well as he might, and\nput it upon him for dread of more resort, for he dreaded that the\nknight\u2019s castle was so nigh. And so, as soon as he might, he took his\nhorse and departed, and thanked God that he had escaped that adventure.\nCHAPTER XVII. How Sir Launcelot overtook a knight which chased his wife\nto have slain her, and how he said to him.\nSo Sir Launcelot rode many wild ways, throughout marches and many wild\nways. And as he rode in a valley he saw a knight chasing a lady, with a\nnaked sword, to have slain her. And by fortune as this knight should\nhave slain this lady, she cried on Sir Launcelot and prayed him to\nrescue her. When Sir Launcelot saw that mischief, he took his horse and\nrode between them, saying, Knight, fie for shame, why wilt thou slay\nthis lady? thou dost shame unto thee and all knights. What hast thou to\ndo betwixt me and my wife? said the knight. I will slay her maugre thy\nhead. That shall ye not, said Sir Launcelot, for rather we two will\nhave ado together. Sir Launcelot, said the knight, thou dost not thy\npart, for this lady hath betrayed me. It is not so, said the lady,\ntruly he saith wrong on me. And for because I love and cherish my\ncousin germain, he is jealous betwixt him and me; and as I shall answer\nto God there was never sin betwixt us. But, sir, said the lady, as thou\nart called the worshipfullest knight of the world, I require thee of\ntrue knighthood, keep me and save me. For whatsomever ye say he will\nslay me, for he is without mercy. Have ye no doubt, said Launcelot, it\nshall not lie in his power. Sir, said the knight, in your sight I will\nbe ruled as ye will have me. And so Sir Launcelot rode on the one side\nand she on the other: he had not ridden but a while, but the knight\nbade Sir Launcelot turn him and look behind him, and said, Sir, yonder\ncome men of arms after us riding. And so Sir Launcelot turned him and\nthought no treason, and therewith was the knight and the lady on one\nside, and suddenly he swapped off his lady\u2019s head.\nAnd when Sir Launcelot had espied him what he had done, he said, and\ncalled him, Traitor, thou hast shamed me for ever. And suddenly Sir\nLauncelot alighted off his horse, and pulled out his sword to slay him,\nand therewithal he fell flat to the earth, and gripped Sir Launcelot by\nthe thighs, and cried mercy. Fie on thee, said Sir Launcelot, thou\nshameful knight, thou mayest have no mercy, and therefore arise and\nfight with me. Nay, said the knight, I will never arise till ye grant\nme mercy. Now will I proffer thee fair, said Launcelot, I will unarm me\nunto my shirt, and I will have nothing upon me but my shirt, and my\nsword and my hand. And if thou canst slay me, quit be thou for ever.\nNay, sir, said Pedivere, that will I never. Well, said Sir Launcelot,\ntake this lady and the head, and bear it upon thee, and here shalt thou\nswear upon my sword, to bear it always upon thy back, and never to rest\ntill thou come to Queen Guenever. Sir, said he, that will I do, by the\nfaith of my body. Now, said Launcelot, tell me what is your name? Sir,\nmy name is Pedivere. In a shameful hour wert thou born, said Launcelot.\nSo Pedivere departed with the dead lady and the head, and found the\nqueen with King Arthur at Winchester, and there he told all the truth.\nSir knight, said the queen, this is an horrible deed and a shameful,\nand a great rebuke unto Sir Launcelot; but notwithstanding his worship\nis not known in many divers countries; but this shall I give you in\npenance, make ye as good shift as ye can, ye shall bear this lady with\nyou on horseback unto the Pope of Rome, and of him receive your penance\nfor your foul deeds; and ye shall never rest one night whereas ye do\nanother; an ye go to any bed the dead body shall lie with you. This\noath there he made, and so departed. And as it telleth in the French\nbook, when he came to Rome, the Pope bade him go again unto Queen\nGuenever, and in Rome was his lady buried by the Pope\u2019s commandment.\nAnd after this Sir Pedivere fell to great goodness, and was an holy man\nand an hermit.\nCHAPTER XVIII. How Sir Launcelot came to King Arthur\u2019s Court, and how\nthere were recounted all his noble feats and acts.\nNow turn we unto Sir Launcelot du Lake, that came home two days afore\nthe Feast of Pentecost; and the king and all the court were passing\nfain of his coming. And when Sir Gawaine, Sir Uwaine, Sir Sagramore,\nSir Ector de Maris, saw Sir Launcelot in Kay\u2019s armour, then they wist\nwell it was he that smote them down all with one spear. Then there was\nlaughing and smiling among them. And ever now and now came all the\nknights home that Sir Turquine had prisoners, and they all honoured and\nworshipped Sir Launcelot.\nWhen Sir Gaheris heard them speak, he said, I saw all the battle from\nthe beginning to the ending, and there he told King Arthur all how it\nwas, and how Sir Turquine was the strongest knight that ever he saw\nexcept Sir Launcelot: there were many knights bare him record, nigh\nthree score. Then Sir Kay told the king how Sir Launcelot had rescued\nhim when he should have been slain, and how he made the knights yield\nthem to me, and not to him. And there they were all three, and bare\nrecord. And by Jesu, said Sir Kay, because Sir Launcelot took my\nharness and left me his I rode in good peace, and no man would have ado\nwith me.\nAnon therewithal there came the three knights that fought with Sir\nLauncelot at the long bridge. And there they yielded them unto Sir Kay,\nand Sir Kay forsook them and said he fought never with them. But I\nshall ease your heart, said Sir Kay, yonder is Sir Launcelot that\novercame you. When they wist that they were glad. And then Sir Meliot\nde Logres came home, and told the king how Sir Launcelot had saved him\nfrom the death. And all his deeds were known, how four queens,\nsorceresses, had him in prison, and how he was delivered by King\nBagdemagus\u2019 daughter. Also there were told all the great deeds of arms\nthat Sir Launcelot did betwixt the two kings, that is for to say the\nKing of Northgalis and King Bagdemagus. All the truth Sir Gahalantine\ndid tell, and Sir Mador de la Porte and Sir Mordred, for they were at\nthat same tournament. Then came in the lady that knew Sir Launcelot\nwhen that he wounded Sir Belleus at the pavilion. And there, at request\nof Sir Launcelot, Sir Belleus was made knight of the Round Table. And\nso at that time Sir Launcelot had the greatest name of any knight of\nthe world, and most he was honoured of high and low.\n Explicit the noble tale of Sir Launcelot du Lake, which is the vi.\n book. Here followeth the tale of Sir Gareth of Orkney that was called\n Beaumains by Sir Kay, and is the seventh book.\nBOOK VII.\nCHAPTER I. How Beaumains came to King Arthur\u2019s Court and demanded three\npetitions of King Arthur.\nWhen Arthur held his Round Table most plenour, it fortuned that he\ncommanded that the high feast of Pentecost should be holden at a city\nand a castle, the which in those days was called Kynke Kenadonne, upon\nthe sands that marched nigh Wales. So ever the king had a custom that\nat the feast of Pentecost in especial, afore other feasts in the year,\nhe would not go that day to meat until he had heard or seen of a great\nmarvel. And for that custom all manner of strange adventures came\nbefore Arthur as at that feast before all other feasts. And so Sir\nGawaine, a little to-fore noon of the day of Pentecost, espied at a\nwindow three men upon horseback, and a dwarf on foot, and so the three\nmen alighted, and the dwarf kept their horses, and one of the three men\nwas higher than the other twain by a foot and an half. Then Sir Gawaine\nwent unto the king and said, Sir, go to your meat, for here at the hand\ncome strange adventures. So Arthur went unto his meat with many other\nkings. And there were all the knights of the Round Table, [save] only\nthose that were prisoners or slain at a recounter. Then at the high\nfeast evermore they should be fulfilled the whole number of an hundred\nand fifty, for then was the Round Table fully complished.\nRight so came into the hall two men well beseen and richly, and upon\ntheir shoulders there leaned the goodliest young man and the fairest\nthat ever they all saw, and he was large and long, and broad in the\nshoulders, and well visaged, and the fairest and the largest handed\nthat ever man saw, but he fared as though he might not go nor bear\nhimself but if he leaned upon their shoulders. Anon as Arthur saw him\nthere was made peace and room, and right so they yede with him unto the\nhigh dais, without saying of any words. Then this much young man pulled\nhim aback, and easily stretched up straight, saying, King Arthur, God\nyou bless and all your fair fellowship, and in especial the fellowship\nof the Table Round. And for this cause I am come hither, to pray you\nand require you to give me three gifts, and they shall not be\nunreasonably asked, but that ye may worshipfully and honourably grant\nthem me, and to you no great hurt nor loss. And the first don and gift\nI will ask now, and the other two gifts I will ask this day\ntwelvemonth, wheresomever ye hold your high feast. Now ask, said\nArthur, and ye shall have your asking.\nNow, sir, this is my petition for this feast, that ye will give me meat\nand drink sufficiently for this twelvemonth, and at that day I will ask\nmine other two gifts.\nMy fair son, said Arthur, ask better, I counsel thee, for this is but a\nsimple asking; for my heart giveth me to thee greatly, that thou art\ncome of men of worship, and greatly my conceit faileth me but thou\nshalt prove a man of right great worship. Sir, he said, thereof be as\nit be may, I have asked that I will ask. Well, said the king, ye shall\nhave meat and drink enough; I never defended that none, neither my\nfriend nor my foe. But what is thy name I would wit? I cannot tell you,\nsaid he. That is marvel, said the king, that thou knowest not thy name,\nand thou art the goodliest young man that ever I saw. Then the king\nbetook him to Sir Kay the steward, and charged him that he should give\nhim of all manner of meats and drinks of the best, and also that he had\nall manner of finding as though he were a lord\u2019s son. That shall little\nneed, said Sir Kay, to do such cost upon him; for I dare undertake he\nis a villain born, and never will make man, for an he had come of\ngentlemen he would have asked of you horse and armour, but such as he\nis, so he asketh. And sithen he hath no name, I shall give him a name\nthat shall be Beaumains, that is Fair-hands, and into the kitchen I\nshall bring him, and there he shall have fat brose every day, that he\nshall be as fat by the twelvemonths\u2019 end as a pork hog. Right so the\ntwo men departed and beleft him to Sir Kay, that scorned him and mocked\nhim.\nCHAPTER II. How Sir Launcelot and Sir Gawaine were wroth because Sir\nKay mocked Beaumains, and of a damosel which desired a knight to fight\nfor a lady.\nThereat was Sir Gawaine wroth, and in especial Sir Launcelot bade Sir\nKay leave his mocking, for I dare lay my head he shall prove a man of\ngreat worship. Let be said Sir Kay, it may not be by no reason, for as\nhe is, so he hath asked. Beware, said Sir Launcelot, so ye gave the\ngood knight Brewnor, Sir Dinadan\u2019s brother, a name, and ye called him\nLa Cote Male Taile, and that turned you to anger afterward. As for\nthat, said Sir Kay, this shall never prove none such. For Sir Brewnor\ndesired ever worship, and this desireth bread and drink and broth; upon\npain of my life he was fostered up in some abbey, and, howsomever it\nwas, they failed meat and drink, and so hither he is come for his\nsustenance.\nAnd so Sir Kay bade get him a place, and sit down to meat; so Beaumains\nwent to the hall door, and set him down among boys and lads, and there\nhe ate sadly. And then Sir Launcelot after meat bade him come to his\nchamber, and there he should have meat and drink enough. And so did Sir\nGawaine: but he refused them all; he would do none other but as Sir Kay\ncommanded him, for no proffer. But as touching Sir Gawaine, he had\nreason to proffer him lodging, meat, and drink, for that proffer came\nof his blood, for he was nearer kin to him than he wist. But that as\nSir Launcelot did was of his great gentleness and courtesy.\nSo thus he was put into the kitchen, and lay nightly as the boys of the\nkitchen did. And so he endured all that twelvemonth, and never\ndispleased man nor child, but always he was meek and mild. But ever\nwhen that he saw any jousting of knights, that would he see an he\nmight. And ever Sir Launcelot would give him gold to spend, and\nclothes, and so did Sir Gawaine, and where there were any masteries\ndone, thereat would he be, and there might none cast bar nor stone to\nhim by two yards. Then would Sir Kay say, How liketh you my boy of the\nkitchen? So it passed on till the feast of Whitsuntide. And at that\ntime the king held it at Carlion in the most royallest wise that might\nbe, like as he did yearly. But the king would no meat eat upon the\nWhitsunday, until he heard some adventures. Then came there a squire to\nthe king and said, Sir, ye may go to your meat, for here cometh a\ndamosel with some strange adventures. Then was the king glad and sat\nhim down.\nRight so there came a damosel into the hall and saluted the king, and\nprayed him of succour. For whom? said the king, what is the adventure?\nSir, she said, I have a lady of great worship and renown, and she is\nbesieged with a tyrant, so that she may not out of her castle; and\nbecause here are called the noblest knights of the world, I come to you\nto pray you of succour. What hight your lady, and where dwelleth she,\nand who is she, and what is his name that hath besieged her? Sir king,\nshe said, as for my lady\u2019s name that shall not ye know for me as at\nthis time, but I let you wit she is a lady of great worship and of\ngreat lands; and as for the tyrant that besiegeth her and destroyeth\nher lands, he is called the Red Knight of the Red Launds. I know him\nnot, said the king. Sir, said Sir Gawaine, I know him well, for he is\none of the perilloust knights of the world; men say that he hath seven\nmen\u2019s strength, and from him I escaped once full hard with my life.\nFair damosel, said the king, there be knights here would do their power\nfor to rescue your lady, but because you will not tell her name, nor\nwhere she dwelleth, therefore none of my knights that here be now shall\ngo with you by my will. Then must I speak further, said the damosel.\nCHAPTER III. How Beaumains desired the battle, and how it was granted\nto him, and how he desired to be made knight of Sir Launcelot.\nWith these words came before the king Beaumains, while the damosel was\nthere, and thus he said, Sir king, God thank you, I have been this\ntwelvemonth in your kitchen, and have had my full sustenance, and now I\nwill ask my two gifts that be behind. Ask, upon my peril, said the\nking. Sir, this shall be my two gifts, first that ye will grant me to\nhave this adventure of the damosel, for it belongeth unto me. Thou\nshalt have it, said the king, I grant it thee. Then, sir, this is the\nother gift, that ye shall bid Launcelot du Lake to make me knight, for\nof him I will be made knight and else of none. And when I am passed I\npray you let him ride after me, and make me knight when I require him.\nAll this shall be done, said the king. Fie on thee, said the damosel,\nshall I have none but one that is your kitchen page? Then was she wroth\nand took her horse and departed. And with that there came one to\nBeaumains and told him his horse and armour was come for him; and there\nwas the dwarf come with all thing that him needed, in the richest\nmanner; thereat all the court had much marvel from whence came all that\ngear. So when he was armed there was none but few so goodly a man as he\nwas; and right so as he came into the hall and took his leave of King\nArthur, and Sir Gawaine, and Sir Launcelot, and prayed that he would\nhie after him, and so departed and rode after the damosel.\nCHAPTER IV. How Beaumains departed, and how he gat of Sir Kay a spear\nand a shield, and how he jousted with Sir Launcelot.\nBut there went many after to behold how well he was horsed and trapped\nin cloth of gold, but he had neither shield nor spear. Then Sir Kay\nsaid all open in the hall, I will ride after my boy in the kitchen, to\nwit whether he will know me for his better. Said Sir Launcelot and Sir\nGawaine, Yet abide at home. So Sir Kay made him ready and took his\nhorse and his spear, and rode after him. And right as Beaumains\novertook the damosel, right so came Sir Kay and said, Beaumains, what,\nsir, know ye not me? Then he turned his horse, and knew it was Sir Kay,\nthat had done him all the despite as ye have heard afore. Yea, said\nBeaumains, I know you for an ungentle knight of the court, and\ntherefore beware of me. Therewith Sir Kay put his spear in the rest,\nand ran straight upon him; and Beaumains came as fast upon him with his\nsword in his hand, and so he put away his spear with his sword, and\nwith a foin thrust him through the side, that Sir Kay fell down as he\nhad been dead; and he alighted down and took Sir Kay\u2019s shield and his\nspear, and stert upon his own horse and rode his way.\nAll that saw Sir Launcelot, and so did the damosel. And then he bade\nhis dwarf stert upon Sir Kay\u2019s horse, and so he did. By that Sir\nLauncelot was come, then he proffered Sir Launcelot to joust; and\neither made them ready, and they came together so fiercely that either\nbare down other to the earth, and sore were they bruised. Then Sir\nLauncelot arose and helped him from his horse. And then Beaumains threw\nhis shield from him, and proffered to fight with Sir Launcelot on foot;\nand so they rushed together like boars, tracing, rasing, and foining to\nthe mountenance of an hour; and Sir Launcelot felt him so big that he\nmarvelled of his strength, for he fought more liker a giant than a\nknight, and that his fighting was durable and passing perilous. For Sir\nLauncelot had so much ado with him that he dreaded himself to be\nshamed, and said, Beaumains, fight not so sore, your quarrel and mine\nis not so great but we may leave off. Truly that is truth, said\nBeaumains, but it doth me good to feel your might, and yet, my lord, I\nshowed not the utterance.\nCHAPTER V. How Beaumains told to Sir Launcelot his name, and how he was\ndubbed knight of Sir Launcelot, and after overtook the damosel.\nIn God\u2019s name, said Sir Launcelot, for I promise you, by the faith of\nmy body, I had as much to do as I might to save myself from you\nunshamed, and therefore have ye no doubt of none earthly knight. Hope\nye so that I may any while stand a proved knight? said Beaumains. Yea,\nsaid Launcelot, do as ye have done, and I shall be your warrant. Then,\nI pray you, said Beaumains, give me the order of knighthood. Then must\nye tell me your name, said Launcelot, and of what kin ye be born. Sir,\nso that ye will not discover me I shall, said Beaumains. Nay, said Sir\nLauncelot, and that I promise you by the faith of my body, until it be\nopenly known. Then, sir, he said, my name is Gareth, and brother unto\nSir Gawaine of father and mother. Ah, sir, said Sir Launcelot, I am\nmore gladder of you than I was; for ever me thought ye should be of\ngreat blood, and that ye came not to the court neither for meat nor for\ndrink. And then Sir Launcelot gave him the order of knighthood, and\nthen Sir Gareth prayed him for to depart and let him go.\nSo Sir Launcelot departed from him and came to Sir Kay, and made him to\nbe borne home upon his shield, and so he was healed hard with the life;\nand all men scorned Sir Kay, and in especial Sir Gawaine and Sir\nLauncelot said it was not his part to rebuke no young man, for full\nlittle knew he of what birth he is come, and for what cause he came to\nthis court; and so we leave Sir Kay and turn we unto Beaumains.\nWhen he had overtaken the damosel, anon she said, What dost thou here?\nthou stinkest all of the kitchen, thy clothes be bawdy of the grease\nand tallow that thou gainest in King Arthur\u2019s kitchen; weenest thou,\nsaid she, that I allow thee, for yonder knight that thou killest. Nay\ntruly, for thou slewest him unhappily and cowardly; therefore turn\nagain, bawdy kitchen page, I know thee well, for Sir Kay named thee\nBeaumains. What art thou but a lusk and a turner of broaches and a\nladle-washer? Damosel, said Beaumains, say to me what ye will, I will\nnot go from you whatsomever ye say, for I have undertaken to King\nArthur for to achieve your adventure, and so shall I finish it to the\nend, either I shall die therefore. Fie on thee, kitchen knave, wilt\nthou finish mine adventure? thou shalt anon be met withal, that thou\nwouldest not for all the broth that ever thou suppest once look him in\nthe face. I shall assay, said Beaumains.\nSo thus as they rode in the wood, there came a man flying all that ever\nhe might. Whither wilt thou? said Beaumains. O lord, he said, help me,\nfor here by in a slade are six thieves that have taken my lord and\nbound him, so I am afeard lest they will slay him. Bring me thither,\nsaid Beaumains. And so they rode together until they came thereas was\nthe knight bounden; and then he rode unto them, and struck one unto the\ndeath, and then another, and at the third stroke he slew the third\nthief, and then the other three fled. And he rode after them, and he\novertook them; and then those three thieves turned again and assailed\nBeaumains hard, but at the last he slew them, and returned and unbound\nthe knight. And the knight thanked him, and prayed him to ride with him\nto his castle there a little beside, and he should worshipfully reward\nhim for his good deeds. Sir, said Beaumains, I will no reward have: I\nwas this day made knight of noble Sir Launcelot, and therefore I will\nno reward have, but God reward me. And also I must follow this damosel.\nAnd when he came nigh her she bade him ride from her, For thou smellest\nall of the kitchen: weenest thou that I have joy of thee, for all this\ndeed that thou hast done is but mishapped thee: but thou shalt see a\nsight shall make thee turn again, and that lightly. Then the same\nknight which was rescued of the thieves rode after that damosel, and\nprayed her to lodge with him all that night. And because it was near\nnight the damosel rode with him to his castle, and there they had great\ncheer, and at supper the knight sat Sir Beaumains afore the damosel.\nFie, fie, said she, Sir knight, ye are uncourteous to set a kitchen\npage afore me; him beseemeth better to stick a swine than to sit afore\na damosel of high parage. Then the knight was ashamed at her words, and\ntook him up, and set him at a sideboard, and set himself afore him, and\nso all that night they had good cheer and merry rest.\nCHAPTER VI. How Beaumains fought and slew two knights at a passage.\nAnd on the morn the damosel and he took their leave and thanked the\nknight, and so departed, and rode on their way until they came to a\ngreat forest. And there was a great river and but one passage, and\nthere were ready two knights on the farther side to let them the\npassage. What sayest thou, said the damosel, wilt thou match yonder\nknights or turn again? Nay, said Sir Beaumains, I will not turn again\nan they were six more. And therewithal he rushed into the water, and in\nmidst of the water either brake their spears upon other to their hands,\nand then they drew their swords, and smote eagerly at other. And at the\nlast Sir Beaumains smote the other upon the helm that his head stonied,\nand therewithal he fell down in the water, and there was he drowned.\nAnd then he spurred his horse upon the land, where the other knight\nfell upon him, and brake his spear, and so they drew their swords and\nfought long together. At the last Sir Beaumains clave his helm and his\nhead down to the shoulders; and so he rode unto the damosel and bade\nher ride forth on her way.\nAlas, she said, that ever a kitchen page should have that fortune to\ndestroy such two doughty knights: thou weenest thou hast done\ndoughtily, that is not so; for the first knight his horse stumbled, and\nthere he was drowned in the water, and never it was by thy force, nor\nby thy might. And the last knight by mishap thou camest behind him and\nmishappily thou slew him.\nDamosel, said Beaumains, ye may say what ye will, but with whomsomever\nI have ado withal, I trust to God to serve him or he depart. And\ntherefore I reck not what ye say, so that I may win your lady. Fie,\nfie, foul kitchen knave, thou shalt see knights that shall abate thy\nboast. Fair damosel, give me goodly language, and then my care is past,\nfor what knights somever they be, I care not, nor I doubt them not.\nAlso, said she, I say it for thine avail, yet mayest thou turn again\nwith thy worship; for an thou follow me, thou art but slain, for I see\nall that ever thou dost is but by misadventure, and not by prowess of\nthy hands. Well, damosel, ye may say what ye will, but wheresomever ye\ngo I will follow you. So this Beaumains rode with that lady till\nevensong time, and ever she chid him, and would not rest. And they came\nto a black laund; and there was a black hawthorn, and thereon hung a\nblack banner, and on the other side there hung a black shield, and by\nit stood a black spear great and long, and a great black horse covered\nwith silk, and a black stone fast by.\nCHAPTER VII. How Beaumains fought with the Knight of the Black Launds,\nand fought with him till he fell down and died.\nThere sat a knight all armed in black harness, and his name was the\nKnight of the Black Laund. Then the damosel, when she saw that knight,\nshe bade him flee down that valley, for his horse was not saddled.\nGramercy, said Beaumains, for always ye would have me a coward. With\nthat the Black Knight, when she came nigh him, spake and said, Damosel,\nhave ye brought this knight of King Arthur to be your champion? Nay,\nfair knight, said she, this is but a kitchen knave that was fed in King\nArthur\u2019s kitchen for alms. Why cometh he, said the knight, in such\narray? it is shame that he beareth you company. Sir, I cannot be\ndelivered of him, said she, for with me he rideth maugre mine head: God\nwould that ye should put him from me, other to slay him an ye may, for\nhe is an unhappy knave, and unhappily he hath done this day: through\nmishap I saw him slay two knights at the passage of the water; and\nother deeds he did before right marvellous and through unhappiness.\nThat marvelleth me, said the Black Knight, that any man that is of\nworship will have ado with him. They know him not, said the damosel,\nand for because he rideth with me, they ween that he be some man of\nworship born. That may be, said the Black Knight; howbeit as ye say\nthat he be no man of worship, he is a full likely person, and full like\nto be a strong man: but thus much shall I grant you, said the Black\nKnight; I shall put him down upon one foot, and his horse and his\nharness he shall leave with me, for it were shame to me to do him any\nmore harm.\nWhen Sir Beaumains heard him say thus, he said, Sir knight, thou art\nfull large of my horse and my harness; I let thee wit it cost thee\nnought, and whether it liketh thee or not, this laund will I pass\nmaugre thine head. And horse nor harness gettest thou none of mine, but\nif thou win them with thy hands; and therefore let see what thou canst\ndo. Sayest thou that? said the Black Knight, now yield thy lady from\nthee, for it beseemeth never a kitchen page to ride with such a lady.\nThou liest, said Beaumains, I am a gentleman born, and of more high\nlineage than thou, and that will I prove on thy body.\nThen in great wrath they departed with their horses, and came together\nas it had been the thunder, and the Black Knight\u2019s spear brake, and\nBeaumains thrust him through both his sides, and therewith his spear\nbrake, and the truncheon left still in his side. But nevertheless the\nBlack Knight drew his sword, and smote many eager strokes, and of great\nmight, and hurt Beaumains full sore. But at the last the Black Knight,\nwithin an hour and an half, he fell down off his horse in swoon, and\nthere he died. And when Beaumains saw him so well horsed and armed,\nthen he alighted down and armed him in his armour, and so took his\nhorse and rode after the damosel.\nWhen she saw him come nigh, she said, Away, kitchen knave, out of the\nwind, for the smell of thy bawdy clothes grieveth me. Alas, she said,\nthat ever such a knave should by mishap slay so good a knight as thou\nhast done, but all this is thine unhappiness. But here by is one shall\npay thee all thy payment, and therefore yet I counsel thee, flee. It\nmay happen me, said Beaumains, to be beaten or slain, but I warn you,\nfair damosel, I will not flee away, a nor leave your company, for all\nthat ye can say; for ever ye say that they will kill me or beat me, but\nhowsomever it happeneth I escape, and they lie on the ground. And\ntherefore it were as good for you to hold you still thus all day\nrebuking me, for away will I not till I see the uttermost of this\njourney, or else I will be slain, other truly beaten; therefore ride on\nyour way, for follow you I will whatsomever happen.\nCHAPTER VIII. How the brother of the knight that was slain met with\nBeaumains, and fought with Beaumains till he was yielden.\nThus as they rode together, they saw a knight come driving by them all\nin green, both his horse and his harness; and when he came nigh the\ndamosel, he asked her, Is that my brother the Black Knight that ye have\nbrought with you? Nay, nay, she said, this unhappy kitchen knave hath\nslain your brother through unhappiness. Alas, said the Green Knight,\nthat is great pity, that so noble a knight as he was should so\nunhappily be slain, and namely of a knave\u2019s hand, as ye say that he is.\nAh! traitor, said the Green Knight, thou shalt die for slaying of my\nbrother; he was a full noble knight, and his name was Sir Perard. I\ndefy thee, said Beaumains, for I let thee wit I slew him knightly and\nnot shamefully.\nTherewithal the Green Knight rode unto an horn that was green, and it\nhung upon a thorn, and there he blew three deadly motes, and there came\ntwo damosels and armed him lightly. And then he took a great horse, and\na green shield and a green spear. And then they ran together with all\ntheir mights, and brake their spears unto their hands. And then they\ndrew their swords, and gave many sad strokes, and either of them\nwounded other full ill. And at the last, at an overthwart, Beaumains\nwith his horse struck the Green Knight\u2019s horse upon the side, that he\nfell to the earth. And then the Green Knight avoided his horse lightly,\nand dressed him upon foot. That saw Beaumains, and therewithal he\nalighted, and they rushed together like two mighty kemps a long while,\nand sore they bled both. With that came the damosel, and said, My lord\nthe Green Knight, why for shame stand ye so long fighting with the\nkitchen knave? Alas, it is shame that ever ye were made knight, to see\nsuch a lad to match such a knight, as the weed overgrew the corn.\nTherewith the Green Knight was ashamed, and therewithal he gave a great\nstroke of might, and clave his shield through. When Beaumains saw his\nshield cloven asunder he was a little ashamed of that stroke and of her\nlanguage; and then he gave him such a buffet upon the helm that he fell\non his knees. And so suddenly Beaumains pulled him upon the ground\ngrovelling. And then the Green Knight cried him mercy, and yielded him\nunto Sir Beaumains, and prayed him to slay him not. All is in vain,\nsaid Beaumains, for thou shalt die but if this damosel that came with\nme pray me to save thy life. And therewithal he unlaced his helm like\nas he would slay him. Fie upon thee, false kitchen page, I will never\npray thee to save his life, for I will never be so much in thy danger.\nThen shall he die, said Beaumains. Not so hardy, thou bawdy knave, said\nthe damosel, that thou slay him. Alas, said the Green Knight, suffer me\nnot to die for a fair word may save me. Fair knight, said the Green\nKnight, save my life, and I will forgive thee the death of my brother,\nand for ever to become thy man, and thirty knights that hold of me for\never shall do you service. In the devil\u2019s name, said the damosel, that\nsuch a bawdy kitchen knave should have thee and thirty knights\u2019\nservice.\nSir knight, said Beaumains, all this availeth thee not, but if my\ndamosel speak with me for thy life. And therewithal he made a semblant\nto slay him. Let be, said the damosel, thou bawdy knave; slay him not,\nfor an thou do thou shalt repent it. Damosel, said Beaumains, your\ncharge is to me a pleasure, and at your commandment his life shall be\nsaved, and else not. Then he said, Sir knight with the green arms, I\nrelease thee quit at this damosel\u2019s request, for I will not make her\nwroth, I will fulfil all that she chargeth me. And then the Green\nKnight kneeled down, and did him homage with his sword. Then said the\ndamosel, Me repenteth, Green Knight, of your damage, and of your\nbrother\u2019s death, the Black Knight, for of your help I had great mister,\nfor I dread me sore to pass this forest. Nay, dread you not, said the\nGreen Knight, for ye shall lodge with me this night, and to-morn I\nshall help you through this forest. So they took their horses and rode\nto his manor, which was fast there beside.\nCHAPTER IX. How the damosel again rebuked Beaumains, and would not\nsuffer him to sit at her table, but called him kitchen boy.\nAnd ever she rebuked Beaumains, and would not suffer him to sit at her\ntable, but as the Green Knight took him and sat him at a side table.\nMarvel methinketh, said the Green Knight to the damosel, why ye rebuke\nthis noble knight as ye do, for I warn you, damosel, he is a full noble\nknight, and I know no knight is able to match him; therefore ye do\ngreat wrong to rebuke him, for he shall do you right good service, for\nwhatsomever he maketh himself, ye shall prove at the end that he is\ncome of a noble blood and of king\u2019s lineage. Fie, fie, said the\ndamosel, it is shame for you to say of him such worship. Truly, said\nthe Green Knight, it were shame for me to say of him any disworship,\nfor he hath proved himself a better knight than I am, yet have I met\nwith many knights in my days, and never or this time have I found no\nknight his match. And so that night they yede unto rest, and all that\nnight the Green Knight commanded thirty knights privily to watch\nBeaumains, for to keep him from all treason.\nAnd so on the morn they all arose, and heard their mass and brake their\nfast; and then they took their horses and rode on their way, and the\nGreen Knight conveyed them through the forest; and there the Green\nKnight said, My lord Beaumains, I and these thirty knights shall be\nalways at your summons, both early and late, at your calling and\nwhither that ever ye will send us. It is well said, said Beaumains;\nwhen that I call upon you ye must yield you unto King Arthur, and all\nyour knights. If that ye so command us, we shall be ready at all times,\nsaid the Green Knight. Fie, fie upon thee, in the devil\u2019s name, said\nthe damosel, that any good knights should be obedient unto a kitchen\nknave. So then departed the Green Knight and the damosel. And then she\nsaid unto Beaumains, Why followest thou me, thou kitchen boy? Cast away\nthy shield and thy spear, and flee away; yet I counsel thee betimes or\nthou shalt say right soon, alas; for wert thou as wight as ever was\nWade or Launcelot, Tristram, or the good knight Sir Lamorak, thou shalt\nnot pass a pass here that is called the Pass Perilous. Damosel, said\nBeaumains, who is afeard let him flee, for it were shame to turn again\nsithen I have ridden so long with you. Well, said the damosel, ye shall\nsoon, whether ye will or not.\nCHAPTER X. How the third brother, called the Red Knight, jousted and\nfought against Beaumains, and how Beaumains overcame him.\nSo within a while they saw a tower as white as any snow, well\nmatchecold all about, and double dyked. And over the tower gate there\nhung a fifty shields of divers colours, and under that tower there was\na fair meadow. And therein were many knights and squires to behold,\nscaffolds and pavilions; for there upon the morn should be a great\ntournament: and the lord of the tower was in his castle and looked out\nat a window, and saw a damosel, a dwarf, and a knight armed at all\npoints. So God me help, said the lord, with that knight will I joust,\nfor I see that he is a knight-errant. And so he armed him and horsed\nhim hastily. And when he was on horseback with his shield and his\nspear, it was all red, both his horse and his harness, and all that to\nhim longeth. And when that he came nigh him he weened it had been his\nbrother the Black Knight; and then he cried aloud, Brother, what do ye\nin these marches? Nay, nay, said the damosel, it is not he; this is but\na kitchen knave that was brought up for alms in King Arthur\u2019s court.\nNevertheless, said the Red Knight, I will speak with him or he depart.\nAh, said the damosel, this knave hath killed thy brother, and Sir Kay\nnamed him Beaumains, and this horse and this harness was thy brother\u2019s,\nthe Black Knight. Also I saw thy brother the Green Knight overcome of\nhis hands. Now may ye be revenged upon him, for I may never be quit of\nhim.\nWith this either knights departed in sunder, and they came together\nwith all their might, and either of their horses fell to the earth, and\nthey avoided their horses, and put their shields afore them and drew\ntheir swords, and either gave other sad strokes, now here, now there,\nrasing, tracing, foining, and hurling like two boars, the space of two\nhours. And then she cried on high to the Red Knight, Alas, thou noble\nRed Knight, think what worship hath followed thee, let never a kitchen\nknave endure thee so long as he doth. Then the Red Knight waxed wroth\nand doubled his strokes, and hurt Beaumains wonderly sore, that the\nblood ran down to the ground, that it was wonder to see that strong\nbattle. Yet at the last Sir Beaumains struck him to the earth, and as\nhe would have slain the Red Knight, he cried mercy, saying, Noble\nknight, slay me not, and I shall yield me to thee with fifty knights\nwith me that be at my commandment. And I forgive thee all the despite\nthat thou hast done to me, and the death of my brother the Black\nKnight. All this availeth not, said Beaumains, but if my damosel pray\nme to save thy life. And therewith he made semblant to strike off his\nhead. Let be, thou Beaumains, slay him not, for he is a noble knight,\nand not so hardy, upon thine head, but thou save him.\nThen Beaumains bade the Red Knight, Stand up, and thank the damosel now\nof thy life. Then the Red Knight prayed him to see his castle, and to\nbe there all night. So the damosel then granted him, and there they had\nmerry cheer. But always the damosel spake many foul words unto\nBeaumains, whereof the Red Knight had great marvel; and all that night\nthe Red Knight made three score knights to watch Beaumains, that he\nshould have no shame nor villainy. And upon the morn they heard mass\nand dined, and the Red Knight came before Beaumains with his three\nscore knights, and there he proffered him his homage and fealty at all\ntimes, he and his knights to do him service. I thank you, said\nBeaumains, but this ye shall grant me: when I call upon you, to come\nafore my lord King Arthur, and yield you unto him to be his knights.\nSir, said the Red Knight, I will be ready, and my fellowship, at your\nsummons. So Sir Beaumains departed and the damosel, and ever she rode\nchiding him in the foulest manner.\nCHAPTER XI. How Sir Beaumains suffered great rebukes of the damosel,\nand he suffered it patiently.\nDamosel, said Beaumains, ye are uncourteous so to rebuke me as ye do,\nfor meseemeth I have done you good service, and ever ye threaten me I\nshall be beaten with knights that we meet, but ever for all your boast\nthey lie in the dust or in the mire, and therefore I pray you rebuke me\nno more; and when ye see me beaten or yielden as recreant, then may ye\nbid me go from you shamefully; but first I let you wit I will not\ndepart from you, for I were worse than a fool an I would depart from\nyou all the while that I win worship. Well, said she, right soon there\nshall meet a knight shall pay thee all thy wages, for he is the most\nman of worship of the world, except King Arthur. I will well, said\nBeaumains, the more he is of worship, the more shall be my worship to\nhave ado with him.\nThen anon they were ware where was afore them a city rich and fair. And\nbetwixt them and the city a mile and an half there was a fair meadow\nthat seemed new mown, and therein were many pavilions fair to behold.\nLo, said the damosel, yonder is a lord that owneth yonder city, and his\ncustom is, when the weather is fair, to lie in this meadow to joust and\ntourney. And ever there be about him five hundred knights and gentlemen\nof arms, and there be all manner of games that any gentleman can\ndevise. That goodly lord, said Beaumains, would I fain see. Thou shalt\nsee him time enough, said the damosel, and so as she rode near she\nespied the pavilion where he was. Lo, said she, seest thou yonder\npavilion that is all of the colour of Inde, and all manner of thing\nthat there is about, men and women, and horses trapped, shields and\nspears were all of the colour of Inde, and his name is Sir Persant of\nInde, the most lordliest knight that ever thou lookedst on. It may well\nbe, said Beaumains, but be he never so stout a knight, in this field I\nshall abide till that I see him under his shield. Ah, fool, said she,\nthou wert better flee betimes. Why, said Beaumains, an he be such a\nknight as ye make him, he will not set upon me with all his men, or\nwith his five hundred knights. For an there come no more but one at\nonce, I shall him not fail whilst my life lasteth. Fie, fie, said the\ndamosel, that ever such a stinking knave should blow such a boast.\nDamosel, he said, ye are to blame so to rebuke me, for I had liefer do\nfive battles than so to be rebuked, let him come and then let him do\nhis worst.\nSir, she said, I marvel what thou art and of what kin thou art come;\nboldly thou speakest, and boldly thou hast done, that have I seen;\ntherefore I pray thee save thyself an thou mayest, for thy horse and\nthou have had great travail, and I dread we dwell over long from the\nsiege, for it is but hence seven mile, and all perilous passages we are\npassed save all only this passage; and here I dread me sore lest ye\nshall catch some hurt, therefore I would ye were hence, that ye were\nnot bruised nor hurt with this strong knight. But I let you wit that\nSir Persant of Inde is nothing of might nor strength unto the knight\nthat laid the siege about my lady. As for that, said Sir Beaumains, be\nit as it be may. For sithen I am come so nigh this knight I will prove\nhis might or I depart from him, and else I shall be shamed an I now\nwithdraw me from him. And therefore, damosel, have ye no doubt by the\ngrace of God I shall so deal with this knight that within two hours\nafter noon I shall deliver him. And then shall we come to the siege by\ndaylight. O Jesu, marvel have I, said the damosel, what manner a man ye\nbe, for it may never be otherwise but that ye be come of a noble blood,\nfor so foul nor shamefully did never woman rule a knight as I have done\nyou, and ever courteously ye have suffered me, and that came never but\nof a gentle blood.\nDamosel, said Beaumains, a knight may little do that may not suffer a\ndamosel, for whatsomever ye said unto me I took none heed to your\nwords, for the more ye said the more ye angered me, and my wrath I\nwreaked upon them that I had ado withal. And therefore all the\nmissaying that ye missaid me furthered me in my battle, and caused me\nto think to show and prove myself at the end what I was; for\nperadventure though I had meat in King Arthur\u2019s kitchen, yet I might\nhave had meat enough in other places, but all that I did it for to\nprove and assay my friends, and that shall be known another day; and\nwhether that I be a gentleman born or none, I let you wit, fair\ndamosel, I have done you gentleman\u2019s service, and peradventure better\nservice yet will I do or I depart from you. Alas, she said, fair\nBeaumains, forgive me all that I have missaid or done against thee.\nWith all my heart, said he, I forgive it you, for ye did nothing but as\nye should do, for all your evil words pleased me; and damosel, said\nBeaumains, since it liketh you to say thus fair unto me, wit ye well it\ngladdeth my heart greatly, and now meseemeth there is no knight living\nbut I am able enough for him.\nCHAPTER XII. How Beaumains fought with Sir Persant of Inde, and made\nhim to be yielden.\nWith this Sir Persant of Inde had espied them as they hoved in the\nfield, and knightly he sent to them whether he came in war or in peace.\nSay to thy lord, said Beaumains, I take no force, but whether as him\nlist himself. So the messenger went again unto Sir Persant and told him\nall his answer. Well then will I have ado with him to the utterance,\nand so he purveyed him and rode against him. And Beaumains saw him and\nmade him ready, and there they met with all that ever their horses\nmight run, and brast their spears either in three pieces, and their\nhorses rushed so together that both their horses fell dead to the\nearth; and lightly they avoided their horses and put their shields\nafore them, and drew their swords, and gave many great strokes that\nsometime they hurtled together that they fell grovelling on the ground.\nThus they fought two hours and more, that their shields and their\nhauberks were all forhewen, and in many steads they were wounded. So at\nthe last Sir Beaumains smote him through the cost of the body, and then\nhe retrayed him here and there, and knightly maintained his battle long\ntime. And at the last, though him loath were, Beaumains smote Sir\nPersant above upon the helm, that he fell grovelling to the earth; and\nthen he leapt upon him overthwart and unlaced his helm to have slain\nhim.\nThen Sir Persant yielded him and asked him mercy. With that came the\ndamosel and prayed to save his life. I will well, for it were pity this\nnoble knight should die. Gramercy, said Persant, gentle knight and\ndamosel. For certainly now I wot well it was ye that slew my brother\nthe Black Knight at the black thorn; he was a full noble knight, his\nname was Sir Percard. Also I am sure that ye are he that won mine other\nbrother the Green Knight, his name was Sir Pertolepe. Also ye won my\nbrother the Red Knight, Sir Perimones. And now since ye have won these,\nthis shall I do for to please you: ye shall have homage and fealty of\nme, and an hundred knights to be always at your commandment, to go and\nride where ye will command us. And so they went unto Sir Persant\u2019s\npavilion and drank the wine, and ate spices, and afterward Sir Persant\nmade him to rest upon a bed until supper time, and after supper to bed\nagain. When Beaumains was abed, Sir Persant had a lady, a fair daughter\nof eighteen year of age, and there he called her unto him, and charged\nher and commanded her upon his blessing to go unto the knight\u2019s bed,\nand lie down by his side, and make him no strange cheer, but good\ncheer, and take him in thine arms and kiss him, and look that this be\ndone, I charge you, as ye will have my love and my good will. So Sir\nPersant\u2019s daughter did as her father bade her, and so she went unto Sir\nBeaumains\u2019 bed, and privily she dispoiled her, and laid her down by\nhim, and then he awoke and saw her, and asked her what she was. Sir,\nshe said, I am Sir Persant\u2019s daughter, that by the commandment of my\nfather am come hither. Be ye a maid or a wife? said he. Sir, she said,\nI am a clean maiden. God defend, said he, that I should defoil you to\ndo Sir Persant such a shame; therefore, fair damosel, arise out of this\nbed or else I will. Sir, she said, I came not to you by mine own will,\nbut as I was commanded. Alas, said Sir Beaumains, I were a shameful\nknight an I would do your father any disworship; and so he kissed her,\nand so she departed and came unto Sir Persant her father, and told him\nall how she had sped. Truly, said Sir Persant, whatsomever he be, he is\ncome of a noble blood. And so we leave them there till on the morn.\nCHAPTER XIII. Of the goodly communication between Sir Persant and\nBeaumains, and how he told him that his name was Sir Gareth.\nAnd so on the morn the damosel and Sir Beaumains heard mass and brake\ntheir fast, and so took their leave. Fair damosel, said Persant,\nwhitherward are ye way-leading this knight? Sir, she said, this knight\nis going to the siege that besiegeth my sister in the Castle Dangerous.\nAh, ah, said Persant, that is the Knight of the Red Laund, the which is\nthe most perilous knight that I know now living, and a man that is\nwithout mercy, and men say that he hath seven men\u2019s strength. God save\nyou, said he to Beaumains, from that knight, for he doth great wrong to\nthat lady, and that is great pity, for she is one of the fairest ladies\nof the world, and meseemeth that your damosel is her sister: is not\nyour name Linet? said he. Yea, sir, said she, and my lady my sister\u2019s\nname is Dame Lionesse. Now shall I tell you, said Sir Persant, this Red\nKnight of the Red Laund hath lain long at the siege, well-nigh this two\nyears, and many times he might have had her an he had would, but he\nprolongeth the time to this intent, for to have Sir Launcelot du Lake\nto do battle with him, or Sir Tristram, or Sir Lamorak de Galis, or Sir\nGawaine, and this is his tarrying so long at the siege.\nNow my lord Sir Persant of Inde, said the damosel Linet, I require you\nthat ye will make this gentleman knight or ever he fight with the Red\nKnight. I will with all my heart, said Sir Persant, an it please him to\ntake the order of knighthood of so simple a man as I am. Sir, said\nBeaumains, I thank you for your good will, for I am better sped, for\ncertainly the noble knight Sir Launcelot made me knight. Ah, said Sir\nPersant, of a more renowned knight might ye not be made knight; for of\nall knights he may be called chief of knighthood; and so all the world\nsaith, that betwixt three knights is departed clearly knighthood, that\nis Launcelot du Lake, Sir Tristram de Liones, and Sir Lamorak de Galis:\nthese bear now the renown. There be many other knights, as Sir\nPalamides the Saracen and Sir Safere his brother; also Sir Bleoberis\nand Sir Blamore de Ganis his brother; also Sir Bors de Ganis and Sir\nEctor de Maris and Sir Percivale de Galis; these and many more be noble\nknights, but there be none that pass the three above said; therefore\nGod speed you well, said Sir Persant, for an ye may match the Red\nKnight ye shall be called the fourth of the world.\nSir, said Beaumains, I would fain be of good fame and of knighthood.\nAnd I let you wit I came of good men, for I dare say my father was a\nnoble man, and so that ye will keep it in close, and this damosel, I\nwill tell you of what kin I am. We will not discover you, said they\nboth, till ye command us, by the faith we owe unto God. Truly then,\nsaid he, my name is Gareth of Orkney, and King Lot was my father, and\nmy mother is King Arthur\u2019s sister, her name is Dame Morgawse, and Sir\nGawaine is my brother, and Sir Agravaine and Sir Gaheris, and I am the\nyoungest of them all. And yet wot not King Arthur nor Sir Gawaine what\nI am.\nCHAPTER XIV. How the lady that was besieged had word from her sister\nhow she had brought a knight to fight for her, and what battles he had\nachieved.\nSo the book saith that the lady that was besieged had word of her\nsister\u2019s coming by the dwarf, and a knight with her, and how he had\npassed all the perilous passages. What manner a man is he? said the\nlady. He is a noble knight, truly, madam, said the dwarf, and but a\nyoung man, but he is as likely a man as ever ye saw any. What is he?\nsaid the damosel, and of what kin is he come, and of whom was he made\nknight? Madam, said the dwarf, he is the king\u2019s son of Orkney, but his\nname I will not tell you as at this time; but wit ye well, of Sir\nLauncelot was he made knight, for of none other would he be made\nknight, and Sir Kay named him Beaumains. How escaped he, said the lady,\nfrom the brethren of Persant? Madam, he said, as a noble knight should.\nFirst, he slew two brethren at a passage of a water. Ah! said she, they\nwere good knights, but they were murderers, the one hight Gherard le\nBreuse, and the other knight hight Sir Arnold le Breuse. Then, madam,\nhe recountered with the Black Knight, and slew him in plain battle, and\nso he took his horse and his armour and fought with the Green Knight\nand won him in plain battle, and in like wise he served the Red Knight,\nand after in the same wise he served the Blue Knight and won him in\nplain battle. Then, said the lady, he hath overcome Sir Persant of\nInde, one of the noblest knights of the world, and the dwarf said, He\nhath won all the four brethren and slain the Black Knight, and yet he\ndid more to-fore: he overthrew Sir Kay and left him nigh dead upon the\nground; also he did a great battle with Sir Launcelot, and there they\ndeparted on even hands: and then Sir Launcelot made him knight.\nDwarf, said the lady, I am glad of these tidings, therefore go thou in\nan hermitage of mine hereby, and there shalt thou bear with thee of my\nwine in two flagons of silver, they are of two gallons, and also two\ncast of bread with fat venison baked, and dainty fowls; and a cup of\ngold here I deliver thee, that is rich and precious; and bear all this\nto mine hermitage, and put it in the hermit\u2019s hands. And sithen go thou\nunto my sister and greet her well, and commend me unto that gentle\nknight, and pray him to eat and to drink and make him strong, and say\nye him I thank him of his courtesy and goodness, that he would take\nupon him such labour for me that never did him bounty nor courtesy.\nAlso pray him that he be of good heart and courage, for he shall meet\nwith a full noble knight, but he is neither of bounty, courtesy, nor\ngentleness; for he attendeth unto nothing but to murder, and that is\nthe cause I cannot praise him nor love him.\nSo this dwarf departed, and came to Sir Persant, where he found the\ndamosel Linet and Sir Beaumains, and there he told them all as ye have\nheard; and then they took their leave, but Sir Persant took an ambling\nhackney and conveyed them on their ways, and then beleft them to God;\nand so within a little while they came to that hermitage, and there\nthey drank the wine, and ate the venison and the fowls baken. And so\nwhen they had repasted them well, the dwarf returned again with his\nvessel unto the castle again; and there met with him the Red Knight of\nthe Red Launds, and asked him from whence that he came, and where he\nhad been. Sir, said the dwarf, I have been with my lady\u2019s sister of\nthis castle, and she hath been at King Arthur\u2019s court, and brought a\nknight with her. Then I account her travail but lost; for though she\nhad brought with her Sir Launcelot, Sir Tristram, Sir Lamorak, or Sir\nGawaine, I would think myself good enough for them all.\nIt may well be, said the dwarf, but this knight hath passed all the\nperilous passages, and slain the Black Knight and other two more, and\nwon the Green Knight, the Red Knight, and the Blue Knight. Then is he\none of these four that I have afore rehearsed. He is none of those,\nsaid the dwarf, but he is a king\u2019s son. What is his name? said the Red\nKnight of the Red Launds. That will I not tell you, said the dwarf, but\nSir Kay upon scorn named him Beaumains. I care not, said the knight,\nwhat knight so ever he be, for I shall soon deliver him. And if I ever\nmatch him he shall have a shameful death as many other have had. That\nwere pity, said the dwarf, and it is marvel that ye make such shameful\nwar upon noble knights.\nCHAPTER XV. How the damosel and Beaumains came to the siege; and came\nto a sycamore tree, and there Beaumains blew a horn, and then the\nKnight of the Red Launds came to fight with him.\nNow leave we the knight and the dwarf, and speak we of Beaumains, that\nall night lay in the hermitage; and upon the morn he and the damosel\nLinet heard their mass and brake their fast. And then they took their\nhorses and rode throughout a fair forest; and then they came to a\nplain, and saw where were many pavilions and tents, and a fair castle,\nand there was much smoke and great noise; and when they came near the\nsiege Sir Beaumains espied upon great trees, as he rode, how there hung\nfull goodly armed knights by the neck, and their shields about their\nnecks with their swords, and gilt spurs upon their heels, and so there\nhung nigh a forty knights shamefully with full rich arms.\nThen Sir Beaumains abated his countenance and said, What meaneth this?\nFair sir, said the damosel, abate not your cheer for all this sight,\nfor ye must courage yourself, or else ye be all shent, for all these\nknights came hither to this siege to rescue my sister Dame Lionesse,\nand when the Red Knight of the Red Launds had overcome them, he put\nthem to this shameful death without mercy and pity. And in the same\nwise he will serve you but if you quit you the better.\nNow Jesu defend me, said Beaumains, from such a villainous death and\nshenship of arms. For rather than I should so be faren withal, I would\nrather be slain manly in plain battle. So were ye better, said the\ndamosel; for trust not, in him is no courtesy, but all goeth to the\ndeath or shameful murder, and that is pity, for he is a full likely\nman, well made of body, and a full noble knight of prowess, and a lord\nof great lands and possessions. Truly, said Beaumains, he may well be a\ngood knight, but he useth shameful customs, and it is marvel that he\nendureth so long that none of the noble knights of my lord Arthur\u2019s\nhave not dealt with him.\nAnd then they rode to the dykes, and saw them double dyked with full\nwarlike walls; and there were lodged many great lords nigh the walls;\nand there was great noise of minstrelsy; and the sea beat upon the one\nside of the walls, where were many ships and mariners\u2019 noise with \u201chale\nand how.\u201d And also there was fast by a sycamore tree, and there hung an\nhorn, the greatest that ever they saw, of an elephant\u2019s bone; and this\nKnight of the Red Launds had hanged it up there, that if there came any\nerrant-knight, he must blow that horn, and then will he make him ready\nand come to him to do battle. But, sir, I pray you, said the damosel\nLinet, blow ye not the horn till it be high noon, for now it is about\nprime, and now increaseth his might, that as men say he hath seven\nmen\u2019s strength. Ah, fie for shame, fair damosel, say ye never so more\nto me; for, an he were as good a knight as ever was, I shall never fail\nhim in his most might, for either I will win worship worshipfully, or\ndie knightly in the field. And therewith he spurred his horse straight\nto the sycamore tree, and blew so the horn eagerly that all the siege\nand the castle rang thereof. And then there leapt out knights out of\ntheir tents and pavilions, and they within the castle looked over the\nwalls and out at windows.\nThen the Red Knight of the Red Launds armed him hastily, and two barons\nset on his spurs upon his heels, and all was blood red, his armour,\nspear and shield. And an earl buckled his helm upon his head, and then\nthey brought him a red spear and a red steed, and so he rode into a\nlittle vale under the castle, that all that were in the castle and at\nthe siege might behold the battle.\nCHAPTER XVI. How the two knights met together, and of their talking,\nand how they began their battle.\nSir, said the damosel Linet unto Sir Beaumains, look ye be glad and\nlight, for yonder is your deadly enemy, and at yonder window is my\nlady, my sister, Dame Lionesse. Where? said Beaumains. Yonder, said the\ndamosel, and pointed with her finger. That is truth, said Beaumains.\nShe beseemeth afar the fairest lady that ever I looked upon; and truly,\nhe said, I ask no better quarrel than now for to do battle, for truly\nshe shall be my lady, and for her I will fight. And ever he looked up\nto the window with glad countenance, and the Lady Lionesse made curtsey\nto him down to the earth, with holding up both their hands.\nWith that the Red Knight of the Red Launds called to Sir Beaumains,\nLeave, sir knight, thy looking, and behold me, I counsel thee; for I\nwarn thee well she is my lady, and for her I have done many strong\nbattles. If thou have so done, said Beaumains, meseemeth it was but\nwaste labour, for she loveth none of thy fellowship, and thou to love\nthat loveth not thee is but great folly. For an I understood that she\nwere not glad of my coming, I would be advised or I did battle for her.\nBut I understand by the besieging of this castle she may forbear thy\nfellowship. And therefore wit thou well, thou Red Knight of the Red\nLaunds, I love her, and will rescue her, or else to die. Sayst thou\nthat? said the Red Knight, meseemeth thou ought of reason to be ware by\nyonder knights that thou sawest hang upon yonder trees. Fie for shame,\nsaid Beaumains, that ever thou shouldest say or do so evil, for in that\nthou shamest thyself and knighthood, and thou mayst be sure there will\nno lady love thee that knoweth thy wicked customs. And now thou weenest\nthat the sight of these hanged knights should fear me. Nay truly, not\nso; that shameful sight causeth me to have courage and hardiness\nagainst thee, more than I would have had against thee an thou wert a\nwell-ruled knight. Make thee ready, said the Red Knight of the Red\nLaunds, and talk no longer with me.\nThen Sir Beaumains bade the damosel go from him; and then they put\ntheir spears in their rests, and came together with all their might\nthat they had both, and either smote other in midst of their shields\nthat the paitrelles, surcingles, and cruppers brast, and fell to the\nearth both, and the reins of their bridles in their hands; and so they\nlay a great while sore astonied, that all that were in the castle and\nin the siege weened their necks had been broken; and then many a\nstranger and other said the strange knight was a big man, and a noble\njouster, for or now we saw never no knight match the Red Knight of the\nRed Launds: thus they said, both within the castle and without. Then\nlightly they avoided their horses and put their shields afore them, and\ndrew their swords and ran together like two fierce lions, and either\ngave other such buffets upon their helms that they reeled backward both\ntwo strides; and then they recovered both, and hewed great pieces off\ntheir harness and their shields that a great part fell into the fields.\nCHAPTER XVII. How after long fighting Beaumains overcame the knight and\nwould have slain him, but at the request of the lords he saved his\nlife, and made him to yield him to the lady.\nAnd then thus they fought till it was past noon, and never would stint,\ntill at the last they lacked wind both; and then they stood wagging and\nscattering, panting, blowing and bleeding, that all that beheld them\nfor the most part wept for pity. So when they had rested them a while\nthey yede to battle again, tracing, racing, foining as two boars. And\nat some time they took their run as it had been two rams, and hurtled\ntogether that sometime they fell grovelling to the earth: and at some\ntime they were so amazed that either took other\u2019s sword instead of his\nown.\nThus they endured till evensong time, that there was none that beheld\nthem might know whether was like to win the battle; and their armour\nwas so forhewn that men might see their naked sides; and in other\nplaces they were naked, but ever the naked places they did defend. And\nthe Red Knight was a wily knight of war, and his wily fighting taught\nSir Beaumains to be wise; but he abought it full sore or he did espy\nhis fighting.\nAnd thus by assent of them both they granted either other to rest; and\nso they set them down upon two mole-hills there beside the fighting\nplace, and either of them unlaced his helm, and took the cold wind; for\neither of their pages was fast by them, to come when they called to\nunlace their harness and to set them on again at their commandment. And\nthen when Sir Beaumains\u2019 helm was off, he looked up to the window, and\nthere he saw the fair lady Dame Lionesse, and she made him such\ncountenance that his heart waxed light and jolly; and therewith he bade\nthe Red Knight of the Red Launds make him ready, and let us do the\nbattle to the utterance. I will well, said the knight, and then they\nlaced up their helms, and their pages avoided, and they stepped\ntogether and fought freshly; but the Red Knight of the Red Launds\nawaited him, and at an overthwart smote him within the hand, that his\nsword fell out of his hand; and yet he gave him another buffet upon the\nhelm that he fell grovelling to the earth, and the Red Knight fell over\nhim, for to hold him down.\nThen cried the maiden Linet on high: O Sir Beaumains, where is thy\ncourage become? Alas, my lady my sister beholdeth thee, and she sobbeth\nand weepeth, that maketh mine heart heavy. When Sir Beaumains heard her\nsay so, he abraid up with a great might and gat him upon his feet, and\nlightly he leapt to his sword and gripped it in his hand, and doubled\nhis pace unto the Red Knight, and there they fought a new battle\ntogether. But Sir Beaumains then doubled his strokes, and smote so\nthick that he smote the sword out of his hand, and then he smote him\nupon the helm that he fell to the earth, and Sir Beaumains fell upon\nhim, and unlaced his helm to have slain him; and then he yielded him\nand asked mercy, and said with a loud voice: O noble knight, I yield me\nto thy mercy.\nThen Sir Beaumains bethought him upon the knights that he had made to\nbe hanged shamefully, and then he said: I may not with my worship save\nthy life, for the shameful deaths that thou hast caused many full good\nknights to die. Sir, said the Red Knight of the Red Launds, hold your\nhand and ye shall know the causes why I put them to so shameful a\ndeath. Say on, said Sir Beaumains. Sir, I loved once a lady, a fair\ndamosel, and she had her brother slain; and she said it was Sir\nLauncelot du Lake, or else Sir Gawaine; and she prayed me as that I\nloved her heartily, that I would make her a promise by the faith of my\nknighthood, for to labour daily in arms unto I met with one of them;\nand all that I might overcome I should put them unto a villainous\ndeath; and this is the cause that I have put all these knights to\ndeath, and so I ensured her to do all the villainy unto King Arthur\u2019s\nknights, and that I should take vengeance upon all these knights. And,\nsir, now I will thee tell that every day my strength increaseth till\nnoon, and all this time have I seven men\u2019s strength.\nCHAPTER XVIII. How the knight yielded him, and how Beaumains made him\nto go unto King Arthur\u2019s court, and to cry Sir Launcelot mercy.\nThen came there many earls, and barons, and noble knights, and prayed\nthat knight to save his life, and take him to your prisoner. And all\nthey fell upon their knees, and prayed him of mercy, and that he would\nsave his life; and, Sir, they all said, it were fairer of him to take\nhomage and fealty, and let him hold his lands of you than for to slay\nhim; by his death ye shall have none advantage, and his misdeeds that\nbe done may not be undone; and therefore he shall make amends to all\nparties, and we all will become your men and do you homage and fealty.\nFair lords, said Beaumains, wit you well I am full loath to slay this\nknight, nevertheless he hath done passing ill and shamefully; but\ninsomuch all that he did was at a lady\u2019s request I blame him the less;\nand so for your sake I will release him that he shall have his life\nupon this covenant, that he go within the castle, and yield him there\nto the lady, and if she will forgive and quit him, I will well; with\nthis he make her amends of all the trespass he hath done against her\nand her lands. And also, when that is done, that ye go unto the court\nof King Arthur, and there that ye ask Sir Launcelot mercy, and Sir\nGawaine, for the evil will ye have had against them. Sir, said the Red\nKnight of the Red Launds, all this will I do as ye command, and siker\nassurance and borrows ye shall have. And so then when the assurance was\nmade, he made his homage and fealty, and all those earls and barons\nwith him.\nAnd then the maiden Linet came to Sir Beaumains, and unarmed him and\nsearched his wounds, and stinted his blood, and in likewise she did to\nthe Red Knight of the Red Launds. And there they sojourned ten days in\ntheir tents; and the Red Knight made his lords and servants to do all\nthe pleasure that they might unto Sir Beaumains. And so within a while\nthe Red Knight of the Red Launds yede unto the castle, and put him in\nher grace. And so she received him upon sufficient surety, so all her\nhurts were well restored of all that she could complain. And then he\ndeparted unto the court of King Arthur, and there openly the Red Knight\nof the Red Launds put him in the mercy of Sir Launcelot and Sir\nGawaine, and there he told openly how he was overcome and by whom, and\nalso he told all the battles from the beginning unto the ending. Jesu\nmercy, said King Arthur and Sir Gawaine, we marvel much of what blood\nhe is come, for he is a noble knight. Have ye no marvel, said Sir\nLauncelot, for ye shall right well wit that he is come of a full noble\nblood; and as for his might and hardiness, there be but few now living\nthat is so mighty as he is, and so noble of prowess. It seemeth by you,\nsaid King Arthur, that ye know his name, and from whence he is come,\nand of what blood he is. I suppose I do so, said Launcelot, or else I\nwould not have given him the order of knighthood; but he gave me such\ncharge at that time that I should never discover him until he required\nme, or else it be known openly by some other.\nCHAPTER XIX. How Beaumains came to the lady, and when he came to the\ncastle the gates were closed against him, and of the words that the\nlady said to him.\nNow turn we unto Sir Beaumains that desired of Linet that he might see\nher sister, his lady. Sir, she said, I would fain ye saw her. Then Sir\nBeaumains all armed him, and took his horse and his spear, and rode\nstraight unto the castle. And when he came to the gate he found there\nmany men armed, and pulled up the drawbridge and drew the port close.\nThen marvelled he why they would not suffer him to enter. And then he\nlooked up to the window; and there he saw the fair Lionesse that said\non high: Go thy way, Sir Beaumains, for as yet thou shalt not have\nwholly my love, unto the time that thou be called one of the number of\nthe worthy knights. And therefore go labour in worship this\ntwelvemonth, and then thou shalt hear new tidings. Alas, fair lady,\nsaid Beaumains, I have not deserved that ye should show me this\nstrangeness, and I had weened that I should have right good cheer with\nyou, and unto my power I have deserved thank, and well I am sure I have\nbought your love with part of the best blood within my body. Fair\ncourteous knight, said Dame Lionesse, be not displeased nor over-hasty;\nfor wit you well your great travail nor good love shall not be lost,\nfor I consider your great travail and labour, your bounty and your\ngoodness as me ought to do. And therefore go on your way, and look that\nye be of good comfort, for all shall be for your worship and for the\nbest, and perdy a twelvemonth will soon be done, and trust me, fair\nknight, I shall be true to you, and never to betray you, but to my\ndeath I shall love you and none other. And therewithal she turned her\nfrom the window, and Sir Beaumains rode awayward from the castle,\nmaking great dole, and so he rode here and there and wist not where he\nrode, till it was dark night. And then it happened him to come to a\npoor man\u2019s house, and there he was harboured all that night.\nBut Sir Beaumains had no rest, but wallowed and writhed for the love of\nthe lady of the castle. And so upon the morrow he took his horse and\nrode until underne, and then he came to a broad water, and thereby was\na great lodge, and there he alighted to sleep and laid his head upon\nthe shield, and betook his horse to the dwarf, and commanded him to\nwatch all night.\nNow turn we to the lady of the same castle, that thought much upon\nBeaumains, and then she called unto her Sir Gringamore her brother, and\nprayed him in all manner, as he loved her heartily, that he would ride\nafter Sir Beaumains: And ever have ye wait upon him till ye may find\nhim sleeping, for I am sure in his heaviness he will alight down in\nsome place, and lie him down to sleep; and therefore have ye your wait\nupon him, and in the priviest manner ye can, take his dwarf, and go ye\nyour way with him as fast as ever ye may or Sir Beaumains awake. For my\nsister Linet telleth me that he can tell of what kindred he is come,\nand what is his right name. And the meanwhile I and my sister will ride\nunto your castle to await when ye bring with you the dwarf. And then\nwhen ye have brought him unto your castle, I will have him in\nexamination myself. Unto the time that I know what is his right name,\nand of what kindred he is come, shall I never be merry at my heart.\nSister, said Sir Gringamore, all this shall be done after your intent.\nAnd so he rode all the other day and the night till that he found Sir\nBeaumains lying by a water, and his head upon his shield, for to sleep.\nAnd then when he saw Sir Beaumains fast asleep, he came stilly stalking\nbehind the dwarf, and plucked him fast under his arm, and so he rode\naway with him as fast as ever he might unto his own castle. And this\nSir Gringamore\u2019s arms were all black, and that to him longeth. But ever\nas he rode with the dwarf toward his castle, he cried unto his lord and\nprayed him of help. And therewith awoke Sir Beaumains, and up he leapt\nlightly, and saw where Sir Gringamore rode his way with the dwarf, and\nso Sir Gringamore rode out of his sight.\nCHAPTER XX. How Sir Beaumains rode after to rescue his dwarf, and came\ninto the castle where he was.\nThen Sir Beaumains put on his helm anon, and buckled his shield, and\ntook his horse, and rode after him all that ever he might ride through\nmarshes, and fields, and great dales, that many times his horse and he\nplunged over the head in deep mires, for he knew not the way, but took\nthe gainest way in that woodness, that many times he was like to\nperish. And at the last him happened to come to a fair green way, and\nthere he met with a poor man of the country, whom he saluted and asked\nhim whether he met not with a knight upon a black horse and all black\nharness, a little dwarf sitting behind him with heavy cheer. Sir, said\nthe poor man, here by me came Sir Gringamore the knight, with such a\ndwarf mourning as ye say; and therefore I rede you not follow him, for\nhe is one of the periloust knights of the world, and his castle is here\nnigh hand but two mile; therefore we advise you ride not after Sir\nGringamore, but if ye owe him good will.\nSo leave we Sir Beaumains riding toward the castle, and speak we of Sir\nGringamore and the dwarf. Anon as the dwarf was come to the castle,\nDame Lionesse and Dame Linet her sister, asked the dwarf where was his\nmaster born, and of what lineage he was come. And but if thou tell me,\nsaid Dame Lionesse, thou shalt never escape this castle, but ever here\nto be prisoner. As for that, said the dwarf, I fear not greatly to tell\nhis name and of what kin he is come. Wit you well he is a king\u2019s son,\nand his mother is sister to King Arthur, and he is brother to the good\nknight Sir Gawaine, and his name is Sir Gareth of Orkney. And now I\nhave told you his right name, I pray you, fair lady, let me go to my\nlord again, for he will never out of this country until that he have me\nagain. And if he be angry he will do much harm or that he be stint, and\nwork you wrack in this country. As for that threatening, said Sir\nGringamore, be it as it be may, we will go to dinner. And so they\nwashed and went to meat, and made them merry and well at ease, and\nbecause the Lady Lionesse of the castle was there, they made great joy.\nTruly, madam, said Linet unto her sister, well may he be a king\u2019s son,\nfor he hath many good tatches on him, for he is courteous and mild, and\nthe most suffering man that ever I met withal. For I dare say there was\nnever gentlewoman reviled man in so foul a manner as I have rebuked\nhim; and at all times he gave me goodly and meek answers again.\nAnd as they sat thus talking, there came Sir Gareth in at the gate with\nan angry countenance, and his sword drawn in his hand, and cried aloud\nthat all the castle might hear it, saying: Thou traitor, Sir\nGringamore, deliver me my dwarf again, or by the faith that I owe to\nthe order of knighthood, I shall do thee all the harm that I can. Then\nSir Gringamore looked out at a window and said, Sir Gareth of Orkney,\nleave thy boasting words, for thou gettest not thy dwarf again. Thou\ncoward knight, said Sir Gareth, bring him with thee, and come and do\nbattle with me, and win him and take him. So will I do, said Sir\nGringamore, an me list, but for all thy great words thou gettest him\nnot. Ah! fair brother, said Dame Lionesse, I would he had his dwarf\nagain, for I would he were not wroth, for now he hath told me all my\ndesire I keep no more of the dwarf. And also, brother, he hath done\nmuch for me, and delivered me from the Red Knight of the Red Launds,\nand therefore, brother, I owe him my service afore all knights living.\nAnd wit ye well that I love him before all other, and full fain I would\nspeak with him. But in nowise I would that he wist what I were, but\nthat I were another strange lady.\nWell, said Sir Gringamore, sithen I know now your will, I will obey now\nunto him. And right therewithal he went down unto Sir Gareth, and said:\nSir, I cry you mercy, and all that I have misdone I will amend it at\nyour will. And therefore I pray you that ye would alight, and take such\ncheer as I can make you in this castle. Shall I have my dwarf? said Sir\nGareth. Yea, sir, and all the pleasaunce that I can make you, for as\nsoon as your dwarf told me what ye were and of what blood ye are come,\nand what noble deeds ye have done in these marches, then I repented of\nmy deeds. And then Sir Gareth alighted, and there came his dwarf and\ntook his horse. O my fellow, said Sir Gareth, I have had many\nadventures for thy sake. And so Sir Gringamore took him by the hand and\nled him into the hall where his own wife was.\nCHAPTER XXI. How Sir Gareth, otherwise called Beaumains, came to the\npresence of his lady, and how they took acquaintance, and of their\nlove.\nAnd then came forth Dame Lionesse arrayed like a princess, and there\nshe made him passing good cheer, and he her again; and they had goodly\nlanguage and lovely countenance together. And Sir Gareth thought many\ntimes, Jesu, would that the lady of the Castle Perilous were so fair as\nshe was. There were all manner of games and plays, of dancing and\nsinging. And ever the more Sir Gareth beheld that lady, the more he\nloved her; and so he burned in love that he was past himself in his\nreason; and forth toward night they yede unto supper, and Sir Gareth\nmight not eat, for his love was so hot that he wist not where he was.\nAll these looks espied Sir Gringamore, and then at-after supper he\ncalled his sister Dame Lionesse into a chamber, and said: Fair sister,\nI have well espied your countenance betwixt you and this knight, and I\nwill, sister, that ye wit he is a full noble knight, and if ye can make\nhim to abide here I will do him all the pleasure that I can, for an ye\nwere better than ye are, ye were well bywaryd upon him. Fair brother,\nsaid Dame Lionesse, I understand well that the knight is good, and come\nhe is of a noble house. Notwithstanding, I will assay him better,\nhowbeit I am most beholden to him of any earthly man; for he hath had\ngreat labour for my love, and passed many a dangerous passage.\nRight so Sir Gringamore went unto Sir Gareth, and said, Sir, make ye\ngood cheer, for ye shall have none other cause, for this lady, my\nsister, is yours at all times, her worship saved, for wit ye well she\nloveth you as well as ye do her, and better if better may be. An I wist\nthat, said Sir Gareth, there lived not a gladder man than I would be.\nUpon my worship, said Sir Gringamore, trust unto my promise; and as\nlong as it liketh you ye shall sojourn with me, and this lady shall be\nwith us daily and nightly to make you all the cheer that she can. I\nwill well, said Sir Gareth, for I have promised to be nigh this country\nthis twelvemonth. And well I am sure King Arthur and other noble\nknights will find me where that I am within this twelvemonth. For I\nshall be sought and found, if that I be alive. And then the noble\nknight Sir Gareth went unto the Dame Lionesse, which he then much\nloved, and kissed her many times, and either made great joy of other.\nAnd there she promised him her love certainly, to love him and none\nother the days of her life. Then this lady, Dame Lionesse, by the\nassent of her brother, told Sir Gareth all the truth what she was, and\nhow she was the same lady that he did battle for, and how she was lady\nof the Castle Perilous, and there she told him how she caused her\nbrother to take away his dwarf.\nCHAPTER XXII. How at night came an armed knight, and fought with Sir\nGareth, and he, sore hurt in the thigh, smote off the knight\u2019s head.\nFor this cause, to know the certainty what was your name, and of what\nkin ye were come.\nAnd then she let fetch to-fore him Linet, the damosel that had ridden\nwith him many wildsome ways. Then was Sir Gareth more gladder than he\nwas to-fore. And then they troth-plight each other to love, and never\nto fail whiles their life lasteth. And so they burnt both in love, that\nthey were accorded to abate their lusts secretly. And there Dame\nLionesse counselled Sir Gareth to sleep in none other place but in the\nhall. And there she promised him to come to his bed a little afore\nmidnight.\nThis counsel was not so privily kept but it was understood; for they\nwere but young both, and tender of age, and had not used none such\ncrafts to-fore. Wherefore the damosel Linet was a little displeased,\nand she thought her sister Dame Lionesse was a little over-hasty, that\nshe might not abide the time of her marriage; and for saving their\nworship, she thought to abate their hot lusts. And so she let ordain by\nher subtle crafts that they had not their intents neither with other,\nas in their delights, until they were married. And so it passed on.\nAt-after supper was made clean avoidance, that every lord and lady\nshould go unto his rest. But Sir Gareth said plainly he would go no\nfarther than the hall, for in such places, he said, was convenient for\nan errant-knight to take his rest in; and so there were ordained great\ncouches, and thereon feather beds, and there laid him down to sleep;\nand within a while came Dame Lionesse, wrapped in a mantle furred with\nermine, and laid her down beside Sir Gareth. And therewithal he began\nto kiss her. And then he looked afore him, and there he apperceived and\nsaw come an armed knight, with many lights about him; and this knight\nhad a long gisarm in his hand, and made grim countenance to smite him.\nWhen Sir Gareth saw him come in that wise, he leapt out of his bed, and\ngat in his hand his sword, and leapt straight toward that knight. And\nwhen the knight saw Sir Gareth come so fiercely upon him, he smote him\nwith a foin through the thick of the thigh that the wound was a\nshaftmon broad and had cut a-two many veins and sinews. And therewithal\nSir Gareth smote him upon the helm such a buffet that he fell\ngrovelling; and then he leapt over him and unlaced his helm, and smote\noff his head from the body. And then he bled so fast that he might not\nstand, but so he laid him down upon his bed, and there he swooned and\nlay as he had been dead.\nThen Dame Lionesse cried aloud, that her brother Sir Gringamore heard,\nand came down. And when he saw Sir Gareth so shamefully wounded he was\nsore displeased, and said: I am shamed that this noble knight is thus\nhonoured. Sir, said Sir Gringamore, how may this be, that ye be here,\nand this noble knight wounded? Brother, she said, I can not tell you,\nfor it was not done by me, nor by mine assent. For he is my lord and I\nam his, and he must be mine husband; therefore, my brother, I will that\nye wit I shame me not to be with him, nor to do him all the pleasure\nthat I can. Sister, said Sir Gringamore, and I will that ye wit it, and\nSir Gareth both, that it was never done by me, nor by my assent that\nthis unhappy deed was done. And there they staunched his bleeding as\nwell as they might, and great sorrow made Sir Gringamore and Dame\nLionesse.\nAnd forthwithal came Dame Linet, and took up the head in the sight of\nthem all, and anointed it with an ointment thereas it was smitten off;\nand in the same wise she did to the other part thereas the head stuck,\nand then she set it together, and it stuck as fast as ever it did. And\nthe knight arose lightly up, and the damosel Linet put him in her\nchamber. All this saw Sir Gringamore and Dame Lionesse, and so did Sir\nGareth; and well he espied that it was the damosel Linet, that rode\nwith him through the perilous passages. Ah well, damosel, said Sir\nGareth, I weened ye would not have done as ye have done. My lord\nGareth, said Linet, all that I have done I will avow, and all that I\nhave done shall be for your honour and worship, and to us all. And so\nwithin a while Sir Gareth was nigh whole, and waxed light and jocund,\nand sang, danced, and gamed; and he and Dame Lionesse were so hot in\nburning love that they made their covenant at the tenth night after,\nthat she should come to his bed. And because he was wounded afore, he\nlaid his armour and his sword nigh his bed\u2019s side.\nCHAPTER XXIII. How the said knight came again the next night and was\nbeheaded again, and how at the feast of Pentecost all the knights that\nSir Gareth had overcome came and yielded them to King Arthur.\nRight as she promised she came; and she was not so soon in his bed but\nshe espied an armed knight coming toward the bed: therewithal she\nwarned Sir Gareth, and lightly through the good help of Dame Lionesse\nhe was armed; and they hurtled together with great ire and malice all\nabout the hall; and there was great light as it had been the number of\ntwenty torches both before and behind, so that Sir Gareth strained him,\nso that his old wound brast again a-bleeding; but he was hot and\ncourageous and took no keep, but with his great force he struck down\nthat knight, and voided his helm, and struck off his head. Then he\nhewed the head in an hundred pieces. And when he had done so he took up\nall those pieces, and threw them out at a window into the ditches of\nthe castle; and by this done he was so faint that unnethes he might\nstand for bleeding. And by when he was almost unarmed he fell in a\ndeadly swoon on the floor; and then Dame Lionesse cried so that Sir\nGringamore heard; and when he came and found Sir Gareth in that plight\nhe made great sorrow; and there he awaked Sir Gareth, and gave him a\ndrink that relieved him wonderly well; but the sorrow that Dame\nLionesse made there may no tongue tell, for she so fared with herself\nas she would have died.\nRight so came this damosel Linet before them all, and she had fetched\nall the gobbets of the head that Sir Gareth had thrown out at a window,\nand there she anointed them as she had done to-fore, and set them\ntogether again. Well, damosel Linet, said Sir Gareth, I have not\ndeserved all this despite that ye do unto me. Sir knight, she said, I\nhave nothing done but I will avow, and all that I have done shall be to\nyour worship, and to us all. And then was Sir Gareth staunched of his\nbleeding. But the leeches said that there was no man that bare the life\nshould heal him throughout of his wound but if they healed him that\ncaused that stroke by enchantment.\nSo leave we Sir Gareth there with Sir Gringamore and his sisters, and\nturn we unto King Arthur, that at the next feast of Pentecost held his\nfeast; and there came the Green Knight with fifty knights, and yielded\nthem all unto King Arthur. And so there came the Red Knight his\nbrother, and yielded him to King Arthur, and three score knights with\nhim. Also there came the Blue Knight, brother to them, with an hundred\nknights, and yielded them unto King Arthur; and the Green Knight\u2019s name\nwas Pertolepe, and the Red Knight\u2019s name was Perimones, and the Blue\nKnight\u2019s name was Sir Persant of Inde. These three brethren told King\nArthur how they were overcome by a knight that a damosel had with her,\nand called him Beaumains. Jesu, said the king, I marvel what knight he\nis, and of what lineage he is come. He was with me a twelvemonth, and\npoorly and shamefully he was fostered, and Sir Kay in scorn named him\nBeaumains. So right as the king stood so talking with these three\nbrethren, there came Sir Launcelot du Lake, and told the king that\nthere was come a goodly lord with six hundred knights with him.\nThen the king went out of Carlion, for there was the feast, and there\ncame to him this lord, and saluted the king in a goodly manner. What\nwill ye, said King Arthur, and what is your errand? Sir, he said, my\nname is the Red Knight of the Red Launds, but my name is Sir Ironside;\nand sir, wit ye well, here I am sent to you of a knight that is called\nBeaumains, for he won me in plain battle hand for hand, and so did\nnever no knight but he, that ever had the better of me this thirty\nwinter; the which commanded to yield me to you at your will. Ye are\nwelcome, said the king, for ye have been long a great foe to me and my\ncourt, and now I trust to God I shall so entreat you that ye shall be\nmy friend. Sir, both I and these five hundred knights shall always be\nat your summons to do you service as may lie in our powers. Jesu mercy,\nsaid King Arthur, I am much beholden unto that knight that hath put so\nhis body in devoir to worship me and my court. And as to thee,\nIronside, that art called the Red Knight of the Red Launds, thou art\ncalled a perilous knight; and if thou wilt hold of me I shall worship\nthee and make thee knight of the Table Round; but then thou must be no\nmore a murderer. Sir, as to that, I have promised unto Sir Beaumains\nnever more to use such customs, for all the shameful customs that I\nused I did at the request of a lady that I loved; and therefore I must\ngo unto Sir Launcelot, and unto Sir Gawaine, and ask them forgiveness\nof the evil will I had unto them; for all that I put to death was all\nonly for the love of Sir Launcelot and of Sir Gawaine. They be here\nnow, said the king, afore thee, now may ye say to them what ye will.\nAnd then he kneeled down unto Sir Launcelot, and to Sir Gawaine, and\nprayed them of forgiveness of his enmity that ever he had against them.\nCHAPTER XXIV. How King Arthur pardoned them, and demanded of them where\nSir Gareth was.\nThen goodly they said all at once, God forgive you, and we do, and pray\nyou that ye will tell us where we may find Sir Beaumains. Fair lords,\nsaid Sir Ironside, I cannot tell you, for it is full hard to find him;\nfor such young knights as he is one, when they be in their adventures\nbe never abiding in no place. But to say the worship that the Red\nKnight of the Red Launds, and Sir Persant and his brother said of\nBeaumains, it was marvel to hear. Well, my fair lords, said King\nArthur, wit you well I shall do you honour for the love of Sir\nBeaumains, and as soon as ever I meet with him I shall make you all\nupon one day knights of the Table Round. And as to thee, Sir Persant of\nInde, thou hast been ever called a full noble knight, and so have ever\nbeen thy three brethren called. But I marvel, said the king, that I\nhear not of the Black Knight your brother, he was a full noble knight.\nSir, said Pertolepe, the Green Knight, Sir Beaumains slew him in a\nrecounter with his spear, his name was Sir Percard. That was great\npity, said the king, and so said many knights. For these four brethren\nwere full well known in the court of King Arthur for noble knights, for\nlong time they had holden war against the knights of the Round Table.\nThen said Pertolepe, the Green Knight, to the king: At a passage of the\nwater of Mortaise there encountered Sir Beaumains with two brethren\nthat ever for the most part kept that passage, and they were two deadly\nknights, and there he slew the eldest brother in the water, and smote\nhim upon the head such a buffet that he fell down in the water, and\nthere he was drowned, and his name was Sir Gherard le Breusse; and\nafter he slew the other brother upon the land, his name was Sir Arnold\nle Breusse.\nCHAPTER XXV. How the Queen of Orkney came to this feast of Pentecost,\nand Sir Gawaine and his brethren came to ask her blessing.\nSo then the king and they went to meat, and were served in the best\nmanner. And as they sat at the meat, there came in the Queen of Orkney,\nwith ladies and knights a great number. And then Sir Gawaine, Sir\nAgravaine, and Gaheris arose, and went to her and saluted her upon\ntheir knees, and asked her blessing; for in fifteen year they had not\nseen her. Then she spake on high to her brother King Arthur: Where have\nye done my young son Sir Gareth? He was here amongst you a twelvemonth,\nand ye made a kitchen knave of him, the which is shame to you all.\nAlas, where have ye done my dear son that was my joy and bliss? O dear\nmother, said Sir Gawaine, I knew him not. Nor I, said the king, that\nnow me repenteth, but thanked be God he is proved a worshipful knight\nas any is now living of his years, and I shall never be glad till I may\nfind him.\nAh, brother, said the Queen unto King Arthur, and unto Sir Gawaine, and\nto all her sons, ye did yourself great shame when ye amongst you kept\nmy son in the kitchen and fed him like a poor hog. Fair sister, said\nKing Arthur, ye shall right well wit I knew him not, nor no more did\nSir Gawaine, nor his brethren; but sithen it is so, said the king, that\nhe is thus gone from us all, we must shape a remedy to find him. Also,\nsister, meseemeth ye might have done me to wit of his coming, and then\nan I had not done well to him ye might have blamed me. For when he came\nto this court he came leaning upon two men\u2019s shoulders, as though he\nmight not have gone. And then he asked me three gifts; and one he asked\nthe same day, that was that I would give him meat enough that\ntwelvemonth; and the other two gifts he asked that day a twelvemonth,\nand that was that he might have the adventure of the damosel Linet, and\nthe third was that Sir Launcelot should make him knight when he desired\nhim. And so I granted him all his desire, and many in this court\nmarvelled that he desired his sustenance for a twelvemonth. And\nthereby, we deemed, many of us, that he was not come of a noble house.\nSir, said the Queen of Orkney unto King Arthur her brother, wit ye well\nthat I sent him unto you right well armed and horsed, and worshipfully\nbeseen of his body, and gold and silver plenty to spend. It may be,\nsaid the King, but thereof saw we none, save that same day as he\ndeparted from us, knights told me that there came a dwarf hither\nsuddenly, and brought him armour and a good horse full well and richly\nbeseen; and thereat we all had marvel from whence that riches came,\nthat we deemed all that he was come of men of worship. Brother, said\nthe queen, all that ye say I believe, for ever sithen he was grown he\nwas marvellously witted, and ever he was faithful and true of his\npromise. But I marvel, said she, that Sir Kay did mock him and scorn\nhim, and gave him that name Beaumains; yet, Sir Kay, said the queen,\nnamed him more righteously than he weened; for I dare say an he be\nalive, he is as fair an handed man and well disposed as any is living.\nSir, said Arthur, let this language be still, and by the grace of God\nhe shall be found an he be within this seven realms, and let all this\npass and be merry, for he is proved to be a man of worship, and that is\nmy joy.\nCHAPTER XXVI. How King Arthur sent for the Lady Lionesse, and how she\nlet cry a tourney at her castle, whereas came many knights.\nThen said Sir Gawaine and his brethren unto Arthur, Sir, an ye will\ngive us leave, we will go and seek our brother. Nay, said Sir\nLauncelot, that shall ye not need; and so said Sir Baudwin of Britain:\nfor as by our advice the king shall send unto Dame Lionesse a\nmessenger, and pray her that she will come to the court in all the\nhaste that she may, and doubt ye not she will come; and then she may\ngive you best counsel where ye shall find him. This is well said of\nyou, said the king. So then goodly letters were made, and the messenger\nsent forth, that night and day he went till he came unto the Castle\nPerilous. And then the lady Dame Lionesse was sent for, thereas she was\nwith Sir Gringamore her brother and Sir Gareth. And when she understood\nthis message, she bade him ride on his way unto King Arthur, and she\nwould come after in all goodly haste. Then when she came to Sir\nGringamore and to Sir Gareth, she told them all how King Arthur had\nsent for her. That is because of me, said Sir Gareth. Now advise me,\nsaid Dame Lionesse, what shall I say, and in what manner I shall rule\nme. My lady and my love, said Sir Gareth, I pray you in no wise be ye\naknowen where I am; but well I wot my mother is there and all my\nbrethren, and they will take upon them to seek me, I wot well that they\ndo. But this, madam, I would ye said and advised the king when he\nquestioned with you of me. Then may ye say, this is your advice that,\nan it like his good grace, ye will do make a cry against the feast of\nthe Assumption of our Lady, that what knight there proveth him best he\nshall wield you and all your land. And if so be that he be a wedded\nman, that his wife shall have the degree, and a coronal of gold beset\nwith stones of virtue to the value of a thousand pound, and a white\ngerfalcon.\nSo Dame Lionesse departed and came to King Arthur, where she was nobly\nreceived, and there she was sore questioned of the king and of the\nQueen of Orkney. And she answered, where Sir Gareth was she could not\ntell. But thus much she said unto Arthur: Sir, I will let cry a\ntournament that shall be done before my castle at the Assumption of our\nLady, and the cry shall be this: that you, my lord Arthur, shall be\nthere, and your knights, and I will purvey that my knights shall be\nagainst yours; and then I am sure ye shall hear of Sir Gareth. This is\nwell advised, said King Arthur; and so she departed. And the king and\nshe made great provision to that tournament.\nWhen Dame Lionesse was come to the Isle of Avilion, that was the same\nisle thereas her brother Sir Gringamore dwelt, then she told them all\nhow she had done, and what promise she had made to King Arthur. Alas,\nsaid Sir Gareth, I have been so wounded with unhappiness sithen I came\ninto this castle that I shall not be able to do at that tournament like\na knight; for I was never thoroughly whole since I was hurt. Be ye of\ngood cheer, said the damosel Linet, for I undertake within these\nfifteen days to make ye whole, and as lusty as ever ye were. And then\nshe laid an ointment and a salve to him as it pleased to her, that he\nwas never so fresh nor so lusty. Then said the damosel Linet: Send you\nunto Sir Persant of Inde, and assummon him and his knights to be here\nwith you as they have promised. Also, that ye send unto Sir Ironside,\nthat is the Red Knight of the Red Launds, and charge him that he be\nready with you with his whole sum of knights, and then shall ye be able\nto match with King Arthur and his knights. So this was done, and all\nknights were sent for unto the Castle Perilous; and then the Red Knight\nanswered and said unto Dame Lionesse, and to Sir Gareth, Madam, and my\nlord Sir Gareth, ye shall understand that I have been at the court of\nKing Arthur, and Sir Persant of Inde and his brethren, and there we\nhave done our homage as ye commanded us. Also Sir Ironside said, I have\ntaken upon me with Sir Persant of Inde and his brethren to hold part\nagainst my lord Sir Launcelot and the knights of that court. And this\nhave I done for the love of my lady Dame Lionesse, and you my lord Sir\nGareth. Ye have well done, said Sir Gareth; but wit you well ye shall\nbe full sore matched with the most noble knights of the world;\ntherefore we must purvey us of good knights, where we may get them.\nThat is well said, said Sir Persant, and worshipfully.\nAnd so the cry was made in England, Wales, and Scotland, Ireland,\nCornwall, and in all the Out Isles, and in Brittany and in many\ncountries; that at the feast of our Lady the Assumption next coming,\nmen should come to the Castle Perilous beside the Isle of Avilion; and\nthere all the knights that there came should have the choice whether\nthem list to be on the one party with the knights of the castle, or on\nthe other party with King Arthur. And two months was to the day that\nthe tournament should be. And so there came many good knights that were\nat their large, and held them for the most part against King Arthur and\nhis knights of the Round Table and came in the side of them of the\ncastle. For Sir Epinogrus was the first, and he was the king\u2019s son of\nNorthumberland, and Sir Palamides the Saracen was another, and Sir\nSafere his brother, and Sir Segwarides his brother, but they were\nchristened, and Sir Malegrine another, and Sir Brian de les Isles, a\nnoble knight, and Sir Grummore Grummursum, a good knight of Scotland,\nand Sir Carados of the dolorous tower, a noble knight, and Sir Turquine\nhis brother, and Sir Arnold and Sir Gauter, two brethren, good knights\nof Cornwall. There came Sir Tristram de Liones, and with him Sir Dinas,\nthe Seneschal, and Sir Sadok; but this Sir Tristram was not at that\ntime knight of the Table Round, but he was one of the best knights of\nthe world. And so all these noble knights accompanied them with the\nlady of the castle, and with the Red Knight of the Red Launds; but as\nfor Sir Gareth, he would not take upon him more but as other mean\nknights.\nCHAPTER XXVII. How King Arthur went to the tournament with his knights,\nand how the lady received him worshipfully, and how the knights\nencountered.\nAnd then there came with King Arthur Sir Gawaine, Agravaine, Gaheris,\nhis brethren. And then his nephews Sir Uwaine le Blanchemains, and Sir\nAglovale, Sir Tor, Sir Percivale de Galis, and Sir Lamorak de Galis.\nThen came Sir Launcelot du Lake with his brethren, nephews, and\ncousins, as Sir Lionel, Sir Ector de Maris, Sir Bors de Ganis, and Sir\nGalihodin, Sir Galihud, and many more of Sir Launcelot\u2019s blood, and Sir\nDinadan, Sir La Cote Male Taile, his brother, a good knight, and Sir\nSagramore, a good knight; and all the most part of the Round Table.\nAlso there came with King Arthur these knights, the King of Ireland,\nKing Agwisance, and the King of Scotland, King Carados and King Uriens\nof the land of Gore, and King Bagdemagus and his son Sir Meliaganus,\nand Sir Galahault the noble prince. All these kings, princes, and\nearls, barons, and other noble knights, as Sir Brandiles, Sir Uwaine\nles Avoutres, and Sir Kay, Sir Bedivere, Sir Meliot de Logres, Sir\nPetipase of Winchelsea, Sir Godelake: all these came with King Arthur,\nand more that cannot be rehearsed.\nNow leave we of these kings and knights, and let us speak of the great\narray that was made within the castle and about the castle for both\nparties. The Lady Dame Lionesse ordained great array upon her part for\nher noble knights, for all manner of lodging and victual that came by\nland and by water, that there lacked nothing for her party, nor for the\nother, but there was plenty to be had for gold and silver for King\nArthur and his knights. And then there came the harbingers from King\nArthur for to harbour him, and his kings, dukes, earls, barons, and\nknights. And then Sir Gareth prayed Dame Lionesse and the Red Knight of\nthe Red Launds, and Sir Persant and his brother, and Sir Gringamore,\nthat in no wise there should none of them tell not his name, and make\nno more of him than of the least knight that there was, For, he said, I\nwill not be known of neither more nor less, neither at the beginning\nneither at the ending. Then Dame Lionesse said unto Sir Gareth: Sir, I\nwill lend you a ring, but I would pray you as you love me heartily let\nme have it again when the tournament is done, for that ring increaseth\nmy beauty much more than it is of himself. And the virtue of my ring is\nthat, that is green it will turn to red, and that is red it will turn\nin likeness to green, and that is blue it will turn to likeness of\nwhite, and that is white it will turn in likeness to blue, and so it\nwill do of all manner of colours. Also who that beareth my ring shall\nlose no blood, and for great love I will give you this ring. Gramercy,\nsaid Sir Gareth, mine own lady, for this ring is passing meet for me,\nfor it will turn all manner of likeness that I am in, and that shall\ncause me that I shall not be known. Then Sir Gringamore gave Sir Gareth\na bay courser that was a passing good horse; also he gave him good\narmour and sure, and a noble sword that sometime Sir Gringamore\u2019s\nfather won upon an heathen tyrant. And so thus every knight made him\nready to that tournament. And King Arthur was come two days to-fore the\nAssumption of our Lady. And there was all manner of royalty of all\nminstrelsy that might be found. Also there came Queen Guenever and the\nQueen of Orkney, Sir Gareth\u2019s mother.\nAnd upon the Assumption Day, when mass and matins were done, there were\nheralds with trumpets commanded to blow to the field. And so there came\nout Sir Epinogrus, the king\u2019s son of Northumberland, from the castle,\nand there encountered with him Sir Sagramore le Desirous, and either of\nthem brake their spears to their hands. And then came in Sir Palamides\nout of the castle, and there encountered with him Gawaine, and either\nof them smote other so hard that both the good knights and their horses\nfell to the earth. And then knights of either party rescued their\nknights. And then came in Sir Safere and Sir Segwarides, brethren to\nSir Palamides; and there encountered Sir Agravaine with Sir Safere and\nSir Gaheris encountered with Sir Segwarides. So Sir Safere smote down\nAgravaine, Sir Gawaine\u2019s brother; and Sir Segwarides, Sir Safere\u2019s\nbrother. And Sir Malegrine, a knight of the castle, encountered with\nSir Uwaine le Blanchemains, and there Sir Uwaine gave Sir Malegrine a\nfall, that he had almost broke his neck.\nCHAPTER XXVIII. How the knights bare them in the battle.\nThen Sir Brian de les Isles and Grummore Grummursum, knights of the\ncastle, encountered with Sir Aglovale, and Sir Tor smote down Sir\nGrummore Grummursum to the earth. Then came in Sir Carados of the\ndolorous tower, and Sir Turquine, knights of the castle; and there\nencountered with them Sir Percivale de Galis and Sir Lamorak de Galis,\nthat were two brethren. And there encountered Sir Percivale with Sir\nCarados, and either brake their spears unto their hands, and then Sir\nTurquine with Sir Lamorak, and either of them smote down other\u2019s horse\nand all to the earth, and either parties rescued other, and horsed them\nagain. And Sir Arnold and Sir Gauter, knights of the castle,\nencountered with Sir Brandiles and Sir Kay, and these four knights\nencountered mightily, and brake their spears to their hands. Then came\nin Sir Tristram, Sir Sadok, and Sir Dinas, knights of the castle, and\nthere encountered Sir Tristram with Sir Bedivere, and there Sir\nBedivere was smitten to the earth both horse and man. And Sir Sadok\nencountered with Sir Petipase, and there Sir Sadok was overthrown. And\nthere Uwaine les Avoutres smote down Sir Dinas, the Seneschal. Then\ncame in Sir Persant of Inde, a knight of the castle, and there\nencountered with him Sir Launcelot du Lake, and there he smote Sir\nPersant, horse and man, to the earth. Then came Sir Pertolepe from the\ncastle, and there encountered with him Sir Lionel, and there Sir\nPertolepe, the Green Knight, smote down Sir Lionel, brother to Sir\nLauncelot. All this was marked by noble heralds, who bare him best, and\ntheir names.\nAnd then came into the field Sir Perimones, the Red Knight, Sir\nPersant\u2019s brother, that was a knight of the castle, and he encountered\nwith Sir Ector de Maris, and either smote other so hard that both their\nhorses and they fell to the earth. And then came in the Red Knight of\nthe Red Launds, and Sir Gareth, from the castle, and there encountered\nwith them Sir Bors de Ganis and Sir Bleoberis, and there the Red Knight\nand Sir Bors [either] smote other so hard that their spears brast, and\ntheir horses fell grovelling to the earth. Then Sir Bleoberis brake his\nspear upon Sir Gareth, but of that stroke Sir Bleoberis fell to the\nearth. When Sir Galihodin saw that he bade Sir Gareth keep him, and Sir\nGareth smote him to the earth. Then Sir Galihud gat a spear to avenge\nhis brother, and in the same wise Sir Gareth served him, and Sir\nDinadan and his brother, La Cote Male Taile, and Sir Sagramore le\nDesirous, and Sir Dodinas le Savage. All these he bare down with one\nspear.\nWhen King Agwisance of Ireland saw Sir Gareth fare so, he marvelled\nwhat he might be that one time seemed green, and another time, at his\nagain coming, he seemed blue. And thus at every course that he rode to\nand fro he changed his colour, so that there might neither king nor\nknight have ready cognisance of him. Then Sir Agwisance, the King of\nIreland, encountered with Sir Gareth, and there Sir Gareth smote him\nfrom his horse, saddle and all. And then came King Carados of Scotland,\nand Sir Gareth smote him down horse and man. And in the same wise he\nserved King Uriens of the land of Gore. And then came in Sir\nBagdemagus, and Sir Gareth smote him down, horse and man, to the earth.\nAnd Bagdemagus\u2019 son, Meliganus, brake a spear upon Sir Gareth mightily\nand knightly. And then Sir Galahault, the noble prince, cried on high:\nKnight with the many colours, well hast thou jousted; now make thee\nready that I may joust with thee. Sir Gareth heard him, and he gat a\ngreat spear, and so they encountered together, and there the prince\nbrake his spear; but Sir Gareth smote him upon the left side of the\nhelm that he reeled here and there, and he had fallen down had not his\nmen recovered him.\nSo God me help, said King Arthur, that same knight with the many\ncolours is a good knight. Wherefore the king called unto him Sir\nLauncelot, and prayed him to encounter with that knight. Sir, said\nLauncelot, I may well find in my heart for to forbear him as at this\ntime, for he hath had travail enough this day; and when a good knight\ndoth so well upon some day, it is no good knight\u2019s part to let him of\nhis worship, and namely, when he seeth a knight hath done so great\nlabour; for peradventure, said Sir Launcelot, his quarrel is here this\nday, and peradventure he is best beloved with this lady of all that be\nhere; for I see well he paineth him and enforceth him to do great\ndeeds, and therefore, said Sir Launcelot, as for me, this day he shall\nhave the honour; though it lay in my power to put him from it I would\nnot.\nCHAPTER XXIX. Yet of the said tournament.\nThen when this was done there was drawing of swords, and then there\nbegan a sore tournament. And there did Sir Lamorak marvellous deeds of\narms; and betwixt Sir Lamorak and Sir Ironside, that was the Red Knight\nof the Red Launds, there was strong battle; and betwixt Sir Palamides\nand Bleoberis there was a strong battle; and Sir Gawaine and Sir\nTristram met, and there Sir Gawaine had the worse, for he pulled Sir\nGawaine from his horse, and there he was long upon foot, and defouled.\nThen came in Sir Launcelot, and he smote Sir Turquine, and he him; and\nthen came Sir Carados his brother, and both at once they assailed him,\nand he as the most noblest knight of the world worshipfully fought with\nthem both, that all men wondered of the noblesse of Sir Launcelot. And\nthen came in Sir Gareth, and knew that it was Sir Launcelot that fought\nwith the two perilous knights. And then Sir Gareth came with his good\nhorse and hurtled them in-sunder, and no stroke would he smite to Sir\nLauncelot. That espied Sir Launcelot, and deemed it should be the good\nknight Sir Gareth: and then Sir Gareth rode here and there, and smote\non the right hand and on the left hand, and all the folk might well\nespy where that he rode. And by fortune he met with his brother Sir\nGawaine, and there he put Sir Gawaine to the worse, for he put off his\nhelm, and so he served five or six knights of the Round Table, that all\nmen said he put him in the most pain, and best he did his devoir. For\nwhen Sir Tristram beheld him how he first jousted and after fought so\nwell with a sword, then he rode unto Sir Ironside and to Sir Persant of\nInde, and asked them, by their faith, What manner a knight is yonder\nknight that seemeth in so many divers colours? Truly, meseemeth, said\nTristram, that he putteth himself in great pain, for he never ceaseth.\nWot ye not what he is? said Sir Ironside. No, said Sir Tristram. Then\nshall ye know that this is he that loveth the lady of the castle, and\nshe him again; and this is he that won me when I besieged the lady of\nthis castle, and this is he that won Sir Persant of Inde, and his three\nbrethren. What is his name, said Sir Tristram, and of what blood is he\ncome? He was called in the court of King Arthur, Beaumains, but his\nright name is Sir Gareth of Orkney, brother to Sir Gawaine. By my head,\nsaid Sir Tristram, he is a good knight, and a big man of arms, and if\nhe be young he shall prove a full noble knight. He is but a child, they\nall said, and of Sir Launcelot he was made knight. Therefore he is\nmickle the better, said Tristram. And then Sir Tristram, Sir Ironside,\nSir Persant, and his brother, rode together for to help Sir Gareth; and\nthen there were given many strong strokes.\nAnd then Sir Gareth rode out on the one side to amend his helm; and\nthen said his dwarf: Take me your ring, that ye lose it not while that\nye drink. And so when he had drunk he gat on his helm, and eagerly took\nhis horse and rode into the field, and left his ring with his dwarf;\nand the dwarf was glad the ring was from him, for then he wist well he\nshould be known. And then when Sir Gareth was in the field all folks\nsaw him well and plainly that he was in yellow colours; and there he\nrased off helms and pulled down knights, that King Arthur had marvel\nwhat knight he was, for the king saw by his hair that it was the same\nknight.\nCHAPTER XXX. How Sir Gareth was espied by the heralds, and how he\nescaped out of the field.\nBut before he was in so many colours, and now he is but in one colour;\nthat is yellow. Now go, said King Arthur unto divers heralds, and ride\nabout him, and espy what manner knight he is, for I have spered of many\nknights this day that be upon his party, and all say they know him not.\nAnd so an herald rode nigh Gareth as he could; and there he saw written\nabout his helm in gold, This helm is Sir Gareth of Orkney.\nThen the herald cried as he were wood, and many heralds with him:\u2014This\nis Sir Gareth of Orkney in the yellow arms; that by all kings and\nknights of Arthur\u2019s beheld him and awaited; and then they pressed all\nto behold him, and ever the heralds cried: This is Sir Gareth of\nOrkney, King Lot\u2019s son.\nAnd when Sir Gareth espied that he was discovered, then he doubled his\nstrokes, and smote down Sir Sagramore, and his brother Sir Gawaine.\nO brother, said Sir Gawaine, I weened ye would not have stricken me.\nSo when he heard him say so he thrang here and there, and so with great\npain he gat out of the press, and there he met with his dwarf. O boy,\nsaid Sir Gareth, thou hast beguiled me foul this day that thou kept my\nring; give it me anon again, that I may hide my body withal; and so he\ntook it him. And then they all wist not where he was become; and Sir\nGawaine had in manner espied where Sir Gareth rode, and then he rode\nafter with all his might. That espied Sir Gareth, and rode lightly into\nthe forest, that Sir Gawaine wist not where he was become. And when Sir\nGareth wist that Sir Gawaine was passed, he asked the dwarf of best\ncounsel. Sir, said the dwarf, meseemeth it were best, now that ye are\nescaped from spying, that ye send my lady Dame Lionesse her ring. It is\nwell advised, said Sir Gareth; now have it here and bear it to her, and\nsay that I recommend me unto her good grace, and say her I will come\nwhen I may, and I pray her to be true and faithful to me as I will be\nto her. Sir, said the dwarf, it shall be done as ye command: and so he\nrode his way, and did his errand unto the lady. Then she said, Where is\nmy knight, Sir Gareth? Madam, said the dwarf, he bade me say that he\nwould not be long from you. And so lightly the dwarf came again unto\nSir Gareth, that would full fain have had a lodging, for he had need to\nbe reposed. And then fell there a thunder and a rain, as heaven and\nearth should go together. And Sir Gareth was not a little weary, for of\nall that day he had but little rest, neither his horse nor he. So this\nSir Gareth rode so long in that forest until the night came. And ever\nit lightened and thundered, as it had been wood. At the last by fortune\nhe came to a castle, and there he heard the waits upon the walls.\nCHAPTER XXXI. How Sir Gareth came to a castle where he was well lodged,\nand he jousted with a knight and slew him.\nThen Sir Gareth rode unto the barbican of the castle, and prayed the\nporter fair to let him into the castle. The porter answered ungoodly\nagain, and said, Thou gettest no lodging here. Fair sir, say not so,\nfor I am a knight of King Arthur\u2019s, and pray the lord or the lady of\nthis castle to give me harbour for the love of King Arthur. Then the\nporter went unto the duchess, and told her how there was a knight of\nKing Arthur\u2019s would have harbour. Let him in, said the duchess, for I\nwill see that knight, and for King Arthur\u2019s sake he shall not be\nharbourless. Then she yode up into a tower over the gate, with great\ntorchlight.\nWhen Sir Gareth saw that torch-light he cried on high: Whether thou be\nlord or lady, giant or champion, I take no force so that I may have\nharbour this night; and if it so be that I must needs fight, spare me\nnot to-morn when I have rested me, for both I and mine horse be weary.\nSir knight, said the lady, thou speakest knightly and boldly; but wit\nthou well the lord of this castle loveth not King Arthur, nor none of\nhis court, for my lord hath ever been against him; and therefore thou\nwere better not to come within this castle; for an thou come in this\nnight, thou must come in under such form, that wheresomever thou meet\nmy lord, by stigh or by street, thou must yield thee to him as\nprisoner. Madam, said Sir Gareth, what is your lord, and what is his\nname? Sir, my lord\u2019s name is the Duke de la Rowse. Well madam, said Sir\nGareth, I shall promise you in what place I meet your lord I shall\nyield me unto him and to his good grace; with that I understand he will\ndo me no harm: and if I understand that he will, I will release myself\nan I can with my spear and my sword. Ye say well, said the duchess; and\nthen she let the drawbridge down, and so he rode into the hall, and\nthere he alighted, and his horse was led into a stable; and in the hall\nhe unarmed him and said, Madam, I will not out of this hall this night;\nand when it is daylight, let see who will have ado with me, he shall\nfind me ready. Then was he set unto supper, and had many good dishes.\nThen Sir Gareth list well to eat, and knightly he ate his meat, and\neagerly; there was many a fair lady by him, and some said they never\nsaw a goodlier man nor so well of eating. Then they made him passing\ngood cheer, and shortly when he had supped his bed was made there; so\nhe rested him all night.\nAnd on the morn he heard mass, and brake his fast and took his leave at\nthe duchess, and at them all; and thanked her goodly of her lodging,\nand of his good cheer; and then she asked him his name. Madam, he said,\ntruly my name is Gareth of Orkney, and some men call me Beaumains. Then\nknew she well it was the same knight that fought for Dame Lionesse. So\nSir Gareth departed and rode up into a mountain, and there met him a\nknight, his name was Sir Bendelaine, and said to Sir Gareth: Thou shalt\nnot pass this way, for either thou shalt joust with me, or else be my\nprisoner. Then will I joust, said Sir Gareth. And so they let their\nhorses run, and there Sir Gareth smote him throughout the body; and Sir\nBendelaine rode forth to his castle there beside, and there died. So\nSir Gareth would have rested him, and he came riding to Bendelaine\u2019s\ncastle. Then his knights and servants espied that it was he that had\nslain their lord. Then they armed twenty good men, and came out and\nassailed Sir Gareth; and so he had no spear, but his sword, and put his\nshield afore him; and there they brake their spears upon him, and they\nassailed him passingly sore. But ever Sir Gareth defended him as a\nknight.\nCHAPTER XXXII. How Sir Gareth fought with a knight that held within his\ncastle thirty ladies, and how he slew him.\nSo when they saw that they might not overcome him, they rode from him,\nand took their counsel to slay his horse; and so they came in upon Sir\nGareth, and with spears they slew his horse, and then they assailed him\nhard. But when he was on foot, there was none that he fought but he\ngave him such a buffet that he did never recover. So he slew them by\none and one till they were but four, and there they fled; and Sir\nGareth took a good horse that was one of theirs, and rode his way.\nThen he rode a great pace till that he came to a castle, and there he\nheard much mourning of ladies and gentlewomen. So there came by him a\npage. What noise is this, said Sir Gareth, that I hear within this\ncastle? Sir knight, said the page, here be within this castle thirty\nladies, and all they be widows; for here is a knight that waiteth daily\nupon this castle, and his name is the Brown Knight without Pity, and he\nis the periloust knight that now liveth; and therefore sir, said the\npage, I rede you flee. Nay, said Sir Gareth, I will not flee though\nthou be afeard of him. And then the page saw where came the Brown\nKnight: Lo, said the page, yonder he cometh. Let me deal with him, said\nSir Gareth. And when either of other had a sight they let their horses\nrun, and the Brown Knight brake his spear, and Sir Gareth smote him\nthroughout the body, that he overthrew him to the ground stark dead. So\nSir Gareth rode into the castle, and prayed the ladies that he might\nrepose him. Alas, said the ladies, ye may not be lodged here. Make him\ngood cheer, said the page, for this knight hath slain your enemy. Then\nthey all made him good cheer as lay in their power. But wit ye well\nthey made him good cheer, for they might none otherwise do, for they\nwere but poor.\nAnd so on the morn he went to mass, and there he saw the thirty ladies\nkneel, and lay grovelling upon divers tombs, making great dole and\nsorrow. Then Sir Gareth wist well that in the tombs lay their lords.\nFair ladies, said Sir Gareth, ye must at the next feast of Pentecost be\nat the court of King Arthur, and say that I, Sir Gareth, sent you\nthither. We shall do this, said the ladies. So he departed, and by\nfortune he came to a mountain, and there he found a goodly knight that\nbade him, Abide sir knight, and joust with me. What are ye? said Sir\nGareth. My name is, said he, the Duke de la Rowse. Ah sir, ye are the\nsame knight that I lodged once in your castle; and there I made promise\nunto your lady that I should yield me unto you. Ah, said the duke, art\nthou that proud knight that profferest to fight with my knights;\ntherefore make thee ready, for I will have ado with you. So they let\ntheir horses run, and there Sir Gareth smote the duke down from his\nhorse. But the duke lightly avoided his horse, and dressed his shield\nand drew his sword, and bade Sir Gareth alight and fight with him. So\nhe did alight, and they did great battle together more than an hour,\nand either hurt other full sore. At the last Sir Gareth gat the duke to\nthe earth, and would have slain him, and then he yield him to him. Then\nmust ye go, said Sir Gareth, unto Sir Arthur my lord at the next feast,\nand say that I, Sir Gareth of Orkney, sent you unto him. It shall be\ndone, said the duke, and I will do to you homage and fealty with an\nhundred knights with me; and all the days of my life to do you service\nwhere ye will command me.\nCHAPTER XXXIII. How Sir Gareth and Sir Gawaine fought each against\nother, and how they knew each other by the damosel Linet.\nSo the duke departed, and Sir Gareth stood there alone; and there he\nsaw an armed knight coming toward him. Then Sir Gareth took the duke\u2019s\nshield, and mounted upon horseback, and so without biding they ran\ntogether as it had been the thunder. And there that knight hurt Sir\nGareth under the side with his spear. And then they alighted and drew\ntheir swords, and gave great strokes that the blood trailed to the\nground. And so they fought two hours.\nAt the last there came the damosel Linet, that some men called the\ndamosel Savage, and she came riding upon an ambling mule; and there she\ncried all on high, Sir Gawaine, Sir Gawaine, leave thy fighting with\nthy brother Sir Gareth.\nAnd when he heard her say so he threw away his shield and his sword,\nand ran to Sir Gareth, and took him in his arms, and sithen kneeled\ndown and asked him mercy.\nWhat are ye, said Sir Gareth, that right now were so strong and so\nmighty, and now so suddenly yield you to me? O Gareth, I am your\nbrother Sir Gawaine, that for your sake have had great sorrow and\nlabour.\nThen Sir Gareth unlaced his helm, and kneeled down to him, and asked\nhim mercy. Then they rose both, and embraced either other in their\narms, and wept a great while or they might speak, and either of them\ngave other the prize of the battle. And there were many kind words\nbetween them.\nAlas, my fair brother, said Sir Gawaine, perdy I owe of right to\nworship you an ye were not my brother, for ye have worshipped King\nArthur and all his court, for ye have sent me more worshipful knights\nthis twelvemonth than six the best of the Round Table have done, except\nSir Launcelot.\nThen came the damosel Savage that was the Lady Linet, that rode with\nSir Gareth so long, and there she did staunch Sir Gareth\u2019s wounds and\nSir Gawaine\u2019s. Now what will ye do? said the damosel Savage; meseemeth\nthat it were well done that Arthur had witting of you both, for your\nhorses are so bruised that they may not bear. Now, fair damosel, said\nSir Gawaine, I pray you ride unto my lord mine uncle, King Arthur, and\ntell him what adventure is to me betid here, and I suppose he will not\ntarry long. Then she took her mule, and lightly she came to King Arthur\nthat was but two mile thence. And when she had told him tidings the\nking bade get him a palfrey. And when he was upon his back he bade the\nlords and ladies come after, who that would; and there was saddling and\nbridling of queens\u2019 horses and princes\u2019 horses, and well was him that\nsoonest might be ready.\nSo when the king came thereas they were, he saw Sir Gawaine and Sir\nGareth sit upon a little hill-side, and then the king avoided his\nhorse. And when he came nigh Sir Gareth he would have spoken but he\nmight not; and therewith he sank down in a swoon for gladness. And so\nthey stert unto their uncle, and required him of his good grace to be\nof good comfort. Wit ye well the king made great joy, and many a\npiteous complaint he made to Sir Gareth, and ever he wept as he had\nbeen a child. With that came his mother, the Queen of Orkney, Dame\nMorgawse, and when she saw Sir Gareth readily in the visage she might\nnot weep, but suddenly fell down in a swoon, and lay there a great\nwhile like as she had been dead. And then Sir Gareth recomforted his\nmother in such wise that she recovered and made good cheer. Then the\nking commanded that all manner of knights that were under his\nobeissance should make their lodging right there for the love of his\nnephews. And so it was done, and all manner of purveyance purveyed,\nthat there lacked nothing that might be gotten of tame nor wild for\ngold or silver. And then by the means of the damosel Savage Sir Gawaine\nand Sir Gareth were healed of their wounds; and there they sojourned\neight days.\nThen said King Arthur unto the damosel Savage: I marvel that your\nsister, Dame Lionesse, cometh not here to me, and in especial that she\ncometh not to visit her knight, my nephew Sir Gareth, that hath had so\nmuch travail for her love. My lord, said the damosel Linet, ye must of\nyour good grace hold her excused, for she knoweth not that my lord, Sir\nGareth, is here. Go then for her, said King Arthur, that we may be\nappointed what is best to be done, according to the pleasure of my\nnephew. Sir, said the damosel, that shall be done, and so she rode unto\nher sister. And as lightly as she might she made her ready; and she\ncame on the morn with her brother Sir Gringamore, and with her forty\nknights. And so when she was come she had all the cheer that might be\ndone, both of the king, and of many other kings and queens.\nCHAPTER XXXIV. How Sir Gareth acknowledged that they loved each other\nto King Arthur, and of the appointment of their wedding.\nAnd among all these ladies she was named the fairest, and peerless.\nThen when Sir Gawaine saw her there was many a goodly look and goodly\nwords, that all men of worship had joy to behold them. Then came King\nArthur and many other kings, and Dame Guenever, and the Queen of\nOrkney. And there the king asked his nephew, Sir Gareth, whether he\nwould have that lady as paramour, or to have her to his wife. My lord,\nwit you well that I love her above all ladies living. Now, fair lady,\nsaid King Arthur, what say ye? Most noble King, said Dame Lionesse, wit\nyou well that my lord, Sir Gareth, is to me more liefer to have and\nwield as my husband, than any king or prince that is christened; and if\nI may not have him I promise you I will never have none. For, my lord\nArthur, said Dame Lionesse, wit ye well he is my first love, and he\nshall be the last; and if ye will suffer him to have his will and free\nchoice I dare say he will have me. That is truth, said Sir Gareth; an I\nhave not you and wield not you as my wife, there shall never lady nor\ngentlewoman rejoice me. What, nephew, said the king, is the wind in\nthat door? for wit ye well I would not for the stint of my crown to be\ncauser to withdraw your hearts; and wit ye well ye cannot love so well\nbut I shall rather increase it than distress it. And also ye shall have\nmy love and my lordship in the uttermost wise that may lie in my power.\nAnd in the same wise said Sir Gareth\u2019s mother.\nThen there was made a provision for the day of marriage; and by the\nking\u2019s advice it was provided that it should be at Michaelmas\nfollowing, at Kink Kenadon by the seaside, for there is a plentiful\ncountry. And so it was cried in all the places through the realm. And\nthen Sir Gareth sent his summons to all these knights and ladies that\nhe had won in battle to-fore, that they should be at his day of\nmarriage at Kink Kenadon by the sands.\nAnd then Dame Lionesse, and the damosel Linet with Sir Gringamore, rode\nto their castle; and a goodly and a rich ring she gave to Sir Gareth,\nand he gave her another. And King Arthur gave her a rich pair of bee of\ngold; and so she departed.\nAnd King Arthur and his fellowship rode toward Kink Kenadon, and Sir\nGareth brought his lady on the way, and so came to the king again and\nrode with him.\nLord! the great cheer that Sir Launcelot made of Sir Gareth and he of\nhim, for there was never no knight that Sir Gareth loved so well as he\ndid Sir Launcelot; and ever for the most part he would be in Sir\nLauncelot\u2019s company; for after Sir Gareth had espied Sir Gawaine\u2019s\nconditions, he withdrew himself from his brother, Sir Gawaine\u2019s,\nfellowship, for he was vengeable, and where he hated he would be\navenged with murder, and that hated Sir Gareth.\nCHAPTER XXXV. Of the Great Royalty, and what officers were made at the\nfeast of the wedding, and of the jousts at the feast.\nSo it drew fast to Michaelmas; and thither came Dame Lionesse, the lady\nof the Castle Perilous, and her sister, Dame Linet, with Sir\nGringamore, her brother, with them for he had the conduct of these\nladies. And there they were lodged at the device of King Arthur. And\nupon Michaelmas Day the Bishop of Canterbury made the wedding betwixt\nSir Gareth and the Lady Lionesse with great solemnity. And King Arthur\nmade Gaheris to wed the Damosel Savage, that was Dame Linet; and King\nArthur made Sir Agravaine to wed Dame Lionesse\u2019s niece, a fair lady,\nher name was Dame Laurel.\nAnd so when this solemnization was done, then came in the Green Knight,\nSir Pertolepe, with thirty knights, and there he did homage and fealty\nto Sir Gareth, and these knights to hold of him for evermore. Also Sir\nPertolepe said: I pray you that at this feast I may be your\nchamberlain. With a good will, said Sir Gareth sith it liketh you to\ntake so simple an office. Then came in the Red Knight, with three score\nknights with him, and did to Sir Gareth homage and fealty, and all\nthose knights to hold of him for evermore. And then this Sir Perimones\nprayed Sir Gareth to grant him to be his chief butler at that high\nfeast. I will well, said Sir Gareth, that ye have this office, and it\nwere better. Then came in Sir Persant of Inde, with an hundred knights\nwith him, and there he did homage and fealty, and all his knights\nshould do him service, and hold their lands of him for ever; and there\nhe prayed Sir Gareth to make him his sewer-chief at the feast. I will\nwell, said Sir Gareth, that ye have it and it were better. Then came\nthe Duke de la Rowse with an hundred knights with him, and there he did\nhomage and fealty to Sir Gareth, and so to hold their lands of him for\never. And he required Sir Gareth that he might serve him of the wine\nthat day of that feast. I will well, said Sir Gareth, and it were\nbetter. Then came in the Red Knight of the Red Launds, that was Sir\nIronside, and he brought with him three hundred knights, and there he\ndid homage and fealty, and all these knights to hold their lands of him\nfor ever. And then he asked Sir Gareth to be his carver. I will well,\nsaid Sir Gareth, an it please you.\nThen came into the court thirty ladies, and all they seemed widows, and\nthose thirty ladies brought with them many fair gentlewomen. And all\nthey kneeled down at once unto King Arthur and unto Sir Gareth, and\nthere all those ladies told the king how Sir Gareth delivered them from\nthe dolorous tower, and slew the Brown Knight without Pity: And\ntherefore we, and our heirs for evermore, will do homage unto Sir\nGareth of Orkney. So then the kings and queens, princes and earls,\nbarons and many bold knights, went unto meat; and well may ye wit there\nwere all manner of meat plenteously, all manner revels and games, with\nall manner of minstrelsy that was used in those days. Also there was\ngreat jousts three days. But the king would not suffer Sir Gareth to\njoust, because of his new bride; for, as the French book saith, that\nDame Lionesse desired of the king that none that were wedded should\njoust at that feast.\nSo the first day there jousted Sir Lamorak de Galis, for he overthrew\nthirty knights, and did passing marvellously deeds of arms; and then\nKing Arthur made Sir Persant and his two brethren Knights of the Round\nTable to their lives\u2019 end, and gave them great lands. Also the second\nday there jousted Tristram best, and he overthrew forty knights, and\ndid there marvellous deeds of arms. And there King Arthur made\nIronside, that was the Red Knight of the Red Launds, a Knight of the\nTable Round to his life\u2019s end, and gave him great lands. The third day\nthere jousted Sir Launcelot du Lake, and he overthrew fifty knights,\nand did many marvellous deeds of arms, that all men wondered on him.\nAnd there King Arthur made the Duke de la Rowse a Knight of the Round\nTable to his life\u2019s end, and gave him great lands to spend. But when\nthese jousts were done, Sir Lamorak and Sir Tristram departed suddenly,\nand would not be known, for the which King Arthur and all the court\nwere sore displeased. And so they held the court forty days with great\nsolemnity. And this Sir Gareth was a noble knight, and a well-ruled,\nand fair-languaged.\nThus endeth this tale of Sir Gareth of Orkney that wedded Dame Lionesse\nof the Castle Perilous. And also Sir Gaheris wedded her sister, Dame\nLinet, that was called the Damosel Sabage. And Sir Agrabaine wedded\nDame Laurel, a fair lady and great, and mighty lands with great riches\ngave with them King Arthur, that royally they might live till their\nlives\u2019 end.\n Here followeth the viii. book, the which is the first book of Sir\n Tristram de Liones, and who was his father and his mother, and how he\n was born and fostered, and how he was made knight.\nBOOK VIII.\nCHAPTER I. How Sir Tristram de Liones was born, and how his mother died\nat his birth, wherefore she named him Tristram.\nIt was a king that hight Meliodas, and he was lord and king of the\ncountry of Liones, and this Meliodas was a likely knight as any was\nthat time living. And by fortune he wedded King Mark\u2019s sister of\nCornwall, and she was called Elizabeth, that was called both good and\nfair. And at that time King Arthur reigned, and he was whole king of\nEngland, Wales, and Scotland, and of many other realms: howbeit there\nwere many kings that were lords of many countries, but all they held\ntheir lands of King Arthur; for in Wales were two kings, and in the\nnorth were many kings; and in Cornwall and in the west were two kings;\nalso in Ireland were two or three kings, and all were under the\nobeissance of King Arthur. So was the King of France, and the King of\nBrittany, and all the lordships unto Rome.\nSo when this King Meliodas had been with his wife, within a while she\nwaxed great with child, and she was a full meek lady, and well she\nloved her lord, and he her again, so there was great joy betwixt them.\nThen there was a lady in that country that had loved King Meliodas\nlong, and by no mean she never could get his love; therefore she let\nordain upon a day, as King Meliodas rode a-hunting, for he was a great\nchaser, and there by an enchantment she made him chase an hart by\nhimself alone till that he came to an old castle, and there anon he was\ntaken prisoner by the lady that him loved. When Elizabeth, King\nMeliodas\u2019 wife, missed her lord, and she was nigh out of her wit, and\nalso as great with child as she was, she took a gentlewoman with her,\nand ran into the forest to seek her lord. And when she was far in the\nforest she might no farther, for she began to travail fast of her\nchild. And she had many grimly throes; her gentlewoman helped her all\nthat she might, and so by miracle of Our Lady of Heaven she was\ndelivered with great pains. But she had taken such cold for the default\nof help that deep draughts of death took her, that needs she must die\nand depart out of this world; there was none other bote.\nAnd when this Queen Elizabeth saw that there was none other bote, then\nshe made great dole, and said unto her gentlewoman: When ye see my\nlord, King Meliodas, recommend me unto him, and tell him what pains I\nendure here for his love, and how I must die here for his sake for\ndefault of good help; and let him wit that I am full sorry to depart\nout of this world from him, therefore pray him to be friend to my soul.\nNow let me see my little child, for whom I have had all this sorrow.\nAnd when she saw him she said thus: Ah, my little son, thou hast\nmurdered thy mother, and therefore I suppose, thou that art a murderer\nso young, thou art full likely to be a manly man in thine age. And\nbecause I shall die of the birth of thee, I charge thee, gentlewoman,\nthat thou pray my lord, King Meliodas, that when he is christened let\ncall him Tristram, that is as much to say as a sorrowful birth. And\ntherewith this queen gave up the ghost and died. Then the gentlewoman\nlaid her under an umbre of a great tree, and then she lapped the child\nas well as she might for cold. Right so there came the barons,\nfollowing after the queen, and when they saw that she was dead, and\nunderstood none other but the king was destroyed.\nCHAPTER II. How the stepmother of Sir Tristram had ordained poison for\nto have poisoned Sir Tristram.\nThen certain of them would have slain the child, because they would\nhave been lords of the country of Liones. But then through the fair\nspeech of the gentlewoman, and by the means that she made, the most\npart of the barons would not assent thereto. And then they let carry\nhome the dead queen, and much dole was made for her.\nThen this meanwhile Merlin delivered King Meliodas out of prison on the\nmorn after his queen was dead. And so when the king was come home the\nmost part of the barons made great joy. But the sorrow that the king\nmade for his queen that might no tongue tell. So then the king let\ninter her richly, and after he let christen his child as his wife had\ncommanded afore her death. And then he let call him Tristram, the\nsorrowful born child. Then the King Meliodas endured seven years\nwithout a wife, and all this time Tristram was nourished well. Then it\nbefell that King Meliodas wedded King Howell\u2019s daughter of Brittany,\nand anon she had children of King Meliodas: then was she heavy and\nwroth that her children should not rejoice the country of Liones,\nwherefore this queen ordained for to poison young Tristram. So she let\npoison be put in a piece of silver in the chamber whereas Tristram and\nher children were together, unto that intent that when Tristram were\nthirsty he should drink that drink. And so it fell upon a day, the\nqueen\u2019s son, as he was in that chamber, espied the piece with poison,\nand he weened it had been good drink, and because the child was thirsty\nhe took the piece with poison and drank freely; and therewithal\nsuddenly the child brast and was dead.\nWhen the queen of Meliodas wist of the death of her son, wit ye well\nthat she was heavy. But yet the king understood nothing of her treason.\nNotwithstanding the queen would not leave this, but eft she let ordain\nmore poison, and put it in a piece. And by fortune King Meliodas, her\nhusband, found the piece with wine where was the poison, and he that\nwas much thirsty took the piece for to drink thereout. And as he would\nhave drunken thereof the queen espied him, and then she ran unto him,\nand pulled the piece from him suddenly. The king marvelled why she did\nso, and remembered him how her son was suddenly slain with poison. And\nthen he took her by the hand, and said: Thou false traitress, thou\nshalt tell me what manner of drink this is, or else I shall slay thee.\nAnd therewith he pulled out his sword, and sware a great oath that he\nshould slay her but if she told him truth. Ah! mercy, my lord, said\nshe, and I shall tell you all. And then she told him why she would have\nslain Tristram, because her children should rejoice his land. Well,\nsaid King Meliodas, and therefore shall ye have the law. And so she was\ncondemned by the assent of the barons to be burnt; and then was there\nmade a great fire, and right as she was at the fire to take her\nexecution, young Tristram kneeled afore King Meliodas, and besought him\nto give him a boon. I will well, said the king again. Then said young\nTristram, Give me the life of thy queen, my stepmother. That is\nunrightfully asked, said King Meliodas, for thou ought of right to hate\nher, for she would have slain thee with that poison an she might have\nhad her will; and for thy sake most is my cause that she should die.\nSir, said Tristram, as for that, I beseech you of your mercy that you\nwill forgive it her, and as for my part, God forgive it her, and I do;\nand so much it liked your highness to grant me my boon, for God\u2019s love\nI require you hold your promise. Sithen it is so, said the king, I will\nthat ye have her life. Then, said the king, I give her to you, and go\nye to the fire and take her, and do with her what ye will. So Sir\nTristram went to the fire, and by the commandment of the king delivered\nher from the death. But after that King Meliodas would never have ado\nwith her, as at bed and board. But by the good means of young Tristram\nhe made the king and her accorded. But then the king would not suffer\nyoung Tristram to abide no longer in his court.\nCHAPTER III. How Sir Tristram was sent into France, and had one to\ngovern him named Gouvernail, and how he learned to harp, hawk, and\nhunt.\nAnd then he let ordain a gentleman that was well learned and taught,\nhis name was Gouvernail; and then he sent young Tristram with\nGouvernail into France to learn the language, and nurture, and deeds of\narms. And there was Tristram more than seven years. And then when he\nwell could speak the language, and had learned all that he might learn\nin that country, then he came home to his father, King Meliodas, again.\nAnd so Tristram learned to be an harper passing all other, that there\nwas none such called in no country, and so on harping and on\ninstruments of music he applied him in his youth for to learn.\nAnd after, as he grew in might and strength, he laboured ever in\nhunting and in hawking, so that never gentleman more, that ever we\nheard read of. And as the book saith, he began good measures of blowing\nof beasts of venery, and beasts of chase, and all manner of vermin, and\nall these terms we have yet of hawking and hunting. And therefore the\nbook of venery, of hawking, and hunting, is called the book of Sir\nTristram. Wherefore, as meseemeth, all gentlemen that bear old arms\nought of right to honour Sir Tristram for the goodly terms that\ngentlemen have and use, and shall to the day of doom, that thereby in a\nmanner all men of worship may dissever a gentleman from a yeoman, and\nfrom a yeoman a villain. For he that gentle is will draw him unto\ngentle tatches, and to follow the customs of noble gentlemen.\nThus Sir Tristram endured in Cornwall until he was big and strong, of\nthe age of eighteen years. And then the King Meliodas had great joy of\nSir Tristram, and so had the queen, his wife. For ever after in her\nlife, because Sir Tristram saved her from the fire, she did never hate\nhim more after, but loved him ever after, and gave Tristram many great\ngifts; for every estate loved him, where that he went.\nCHAPTER IV. How Sir Marhaus came out of Ireland for to ask truage of\nCornwall, or else he would fight therefore.\nThen it befell that King Anguish of Ireland sent unto King Mark of\nCornwall for his truage, that Cornwall had paid many winters. And all\nthat time King Mark was behind of the truage for seven years. And King\nMark and his barons gave unto the messenger of Ireland these words and\nanswer, that they would none pay; and bade the messenger go unto his\nKing Anguish, and tell him we will pay him no truage, but tell your\nlord, an he will always have truage of us of Cornwall, bid him send a\ntrusty knight of his land, that will fight for his right, and we shall\nfind another for to defend our right. With this answer the messengers\ndeparted into Ireland. And when King Anguish understood the answer of\nthe messengers he was wonderly wroth. And then he called unto him Sir\nMarhaus, the good knight, that was nobly proved, and a Knight of the\nTable Round. And this Marhaus was brother unto the queen of Ireland.\nThen the king said thus: Fair brother, Sir Marhaus, I pray you go into\nCornwall for my sake, and do battle for our truage that of right we\nought to have; and whatsomever ye spend ye shall have sufficiently,\nmore than ye shall need. Sir, said Marhaus, wit ye well that I shall\nnot be loath to do battle in the right of you and your land with the\nbest knight of the Table Round; for I know them, for the most part,\nwhat be their deeds; and for to advance my deeds and to increase my\nworship I will right gladly go unto this journey for our right.\nSo in all haste there was made purveyance for Sir Marhaus, and he had\nall things that to him needed; and so he departed out of Ireland, and\narrived up in Cornwall even fast by the Castle of Tintagil. And when\nKing Mark understood that he was there arrived to fight for Ireland,\nthen made King Mark great sorrow when he understood that the good and\nnoble knight Sir Marhaus was come. For they knew no knight that durst\nhave ado with him. For at that time Sir Marhaus was called one of the\nfamousest and renowned knights of the world. And thus Sir Marhaus abode\nin the sea, and every day he sent unto King Mark for to pay the truage\nthat was behind of seven year, other else to find a knight to fight\nwith him for the truage. This manner of message Sir Marhaus sent daily\nunto King Mark.\nThen they of Cornwall let make cries in every place, that what knight\nwould fight for to save the truage of Cornwall, he should be rewarded\nso that he should fare the better, term of his life. Then some of the\nbarons said to King Mark, and counselled him to send to the court of\nKing Arthur for to seek Sir Launcelot du Lake, that was that time named\nfor the marvelloust knight of all the world. Then there were some other\nbarons that counselled the king not to do so, and said that it was\nlabour in vain, because Sir Marhaus was a knight of the Round Table,\ntherefore any of them will be loath to have ado with other, but if it\nwere any knight at his own request would fight disguised and unknown.\nSo the king and all his barons assented that it was no bote to seek any\nknight of the Round Table. This mean while came the language and the\nnoise unto King Meliodas, how that Sir Marhaus abode battle fast by\nTintagil, and how King Mark could find no manner knight to fight for\nhim. When young Tristram heard of this he was wroth, and sore ashamed\nthat there durst no knight in Cornwall have ado with Sir Marhaus of\nIreland.\nCHAPTER V. How Tristram enterprized the battle to fight for the truage\nof Cornwall, and how he was made knight.\nTherewithal Tristram went unto his father, King Meliodas, and asked him\ncounsel what was best to do for to recover Cornwall from truage. For,\nas meseemeth, said Sir Tristram, it were shame that Sir Marhaus, the\nqueen\u2019s brother of Ireland, should go away unless that he were foughten\nwithal. As for that, said King Meliodas, wit you well, son Tristram,\nthat Sir Marhaus is called one of the best knights of the world, and\nKnight of the Table Round; and therefore I know no knight in this\ncountry that is able to match with him. Alas, said Sir Tristram, that I\nam not made knight; and if Sir Marhaus should thus depart into Ireland,\nGod let me never have worship: an I were made knight I should match\nhim. And sir, said Tristram, I pray you give me leave to ride to King\nMark; and, so ye be not displeased, of King Mark will I be made knight.\nI will well, said King Meliodas, that ye be ruled as your courage will\nrule you. Then Sir Tristram thanked his father much. And then he made\nhim ready to ride into Cornwall.\nIn the meanwhile there came a messenger with letters of love from King\nFaramon of France\u2019s daughter unto Sir Tristram, that were full piteous\nletters, and in them were written many complaints of love; but Sir\nTristram had no joy of her letters nor regard unto her. Also she sent\nhim a little brachet that was passing fair. But when the king\u2019s\ndaughter understood that Sir Tristram would not love her, as the book\nsaith, she died for sorrow. And then the same squire that brought the\nletter and the brachet came again unto Sir Tristram, as after ye shall\nhear in the tale.\nSo this young Sir Tristram rode unto his eme, King Mark of Cornwall.\nAnd when he came there he heard say that there would no knight fight\nwith Sir Marhaus. Then yede Sir Tristram unto his eme and said: Sir, if\nye will give me the order of knighthood, I will do battle with Sir\nMarhaus. What are ye, said the king, and from whence be ye come? Sir,\nsaid Tristram, I come from King Meliodas that wedded your sister, and a\ngentleman wit ye well I am. King Mark beheld Sir Tristram and saw that\nhe was but a young man of age, but he was passingly well made and big.\nFair sir, said the king, what is your name, and where were ye born?\nSir, said he again, my name is Tristram, and in the country of Liones\nwas I born. Ye say well, said the king; and if ye will do this battle I\nshall make you knight. Therefore I come to you, said Sir Tristram, and\nfor none other cause. But then King Mark made him knight. And\ntherewithal, anon as he had made him knight, he sent a messenger unto\nSir Marhaus with letters that said that he had found a young knight\nready for to take the battle to the uttermost. It may well be, said Sir\nMarhaus; but tell King Mark I will not fight with no knight but he be\nof blood royal, that is to say, other king\u2019s son, other queen\u2019s son,\nborn of a prince or princess.\nWhen King Mark understood that, he sent for Sir Tristram de Liones and\ntold him what was the answer of Sir Marhaus. Then said Sir Tristram:\nSithen that he saith so, let him wit that I am come of father side and\nmother side of as noble blood as he is: for, sir, now shall ye know\nthat I am King Meliodas\u2019 son, born of your own sister, Dame Elizabeth,\nthat died in the forest in the birth of me. O Jesu, said King Mark, ye\nare welcome fair nephew to me. Then in all the haste the king let horse\nSir Tristram, and armed him in the best manner that might be had or\ngotten for gold or silver. And then King Mark sent unto Sir Marhaus,\nand did him to wit that a better born man than he was himself should\nfight with him, and his name is Sir Tristram de Liones, gotten of King\nMeliodas, and born of King Mark\u2019s sister. Then was Sir Marhaus glad and\nblithe that he should fight with such a gentleman. And so by the assent\nof King Mark and of Sir Marhaus they let ordain that they should fight\nwithin an island nigh Sir Marhaus\u2019 ships; and so was Sir Tristram put\ninto a vessel both his horse and he, and all that to him longed both\nfor his body and for his horse. Sir Tristram lacked nothing. And when\nKing Mark and his barons of Cornwall beheld how young Sir Tristram\ndeparted with such a carriage to fight for the right of Cornwall, there\nwas neither man nor woman of worship but they wept to see and\nunderstand so young a knight to jeopardy himself for their right.\nCHAPTER VI. How Sir Tristram arrived into the Island for to furnish the\nbattle with Sir Marhaus.\nSo to shorten this tale, when Sir Tristram was arrived within the\nisland he looked to the farther side, and there he saw at an anchor six\nships nigh to the land; and under the shadow of the ships upon the\nland, there hoved the noble knight, Sir Marhaus of Ireland. Then Sir\nTristram commanded his servant Gouvernail to bring his horse to the\nland, and dress his harness at all manner of rights. And then when he\nhad so done he mounted upon his horse; and when he was in his saddle\nwell apparelled, and his shield dressed upon his shoulder, Tristram\nasked Gouvernail, Where is this knight that I shall have ado withal?\nSir, said Gouvernail, see ye him not? I weened ye had seen him; yonder\nhe hoveth under the umbre of his ships on horseback, with his spear in\nhis hand and his shield upon his shoulder. That is truth, said the\nnoble knight, Sir Tristram, now I see him well enough.\nThen he commanded his servant Gouvernail to go to his vessel again: And\ncommend me unto mine eme King Mark, and pray him, if that I be slain in\nthis battle, for to inter my body as him seemed best; and as for me,\nlet him wit that I will never yield me for cowardice; and if I be slain\nand flee not, then they have lost no truage for me; and if so be that I\nflee or yield me as recreant, bid mine eme never bury me in Christian\nburials. And upon thy life, said Sir Tristram to Gouvernail, come thou\nnot nigh this island till that thou see me overcome or slain, or else\nthat I win yonder knight. So either departed from other sore weeping.\nCHAPTER VII. How Sir Tristram fought against Sir Marhaus and achieved\nhis battle, and how Sir Marhaus fled to his ship.\nAnd then Sir Marhaus avised Sir Tristram, and said thus: Young knight,\nSir Tristram, what dost thou here? me sore repenteth of thy courage,\nfor wit thou well I have been assayed, and the best knights of this\nland have been assayed of my hand; and also I have matched with the\nbest knights of the world, and therefore by my counsel return again\nunto thy vessel. And fair knight, and well-proved knight, said Sir\nTristram, thou shalt well wit I may not forsake thee in this quarrel,\nfor I am for thy sake made knight. And thou shalt well wit that I am a\nking\u2019s son born, and gotten upon a queen; and such promise I have made\nat my uncle\u2019s request and mine own seeking, that I shall fight with\nthee unto the uttermost, and deliver Cornwall from the old truage. And\nalso wit thou well, Sir Marhaus, that this is the greatest cause that\nthou couragest me to have ado with thee, for thou art called one of the\nmost renowned knights of the world, and because of that noise and fame\nthat thou hast thou givest me courage to have ado with thee, for never\nyet was I proved with good knight; and sithen I took the order of\nknighthood this day, I am well pleased that I may have ado with so good\na knight as thou art. And now wit thou well, Sir Marhaus, that I cast\nme to get worship on thy body; and if that I be not proved, I trust to\nGod that I shall be worshipfully proved upon thy body, and to deliver\nthe country of Cornwall for ever from all manner of truage from Ireland\nfor ever.\nWhen Sir Marhaus had heard him say what he would, he said then thus\nagain: Fair knight, sithen it is so that thou castest to win worship of\nme, I let thee wit worship may thou none lose by me if thou mayest\nstand me three strokes; for I let thee wit for my noble deeds, proved\nand seen, King Arthur made me Knight of the Table Round.\nThen they began to feutre their spears, and they met so fiercely\ntogether that they smote either other down, both horse and all. But Sir\nMarhaus smote Sir Tristram a great wound in the side with his spear,\nand then they avoided their horses, and pulled out their swords, and\nthrew their shields afore them. And then they lashed together as men\nthat were wild and courageous. And when they had stricken so together\nlong, then they left their strokes, and foined at their breaths and\nvisors; and when they saw that that might not prevail them, then they\nhurtled together like rams to bear either other down. Thus they fought\nstill more than half a day, and either were wounded passing sore, that\nthe blood ran down freshly from them upon the ground. By then Sir\nTristram waxed more fresher than Sir Marhaus, and better winded and\nbigger; and with a mighty stroke he smote Sir Marhaus upon the helm\nsuch a buffet that it went through his helm, and through the coif of\nsteel, and through the brain-pan, and the sword stuck so fast in the\nhelm and in his brain-pan that Sir Tristram pulled thrice at his sword\nor ever he might pull it out from his head; and there Marhaus fell down\non his knees, the edge of Tristram\u2019s sword left in his brain-pan. And\nsuddenly Sir Marhaus rose grovelling, and threw his sword and his\nshield from him, and so ran to his ships and fled his way, and Sir\nTristram had ever his shield and his sword.\nAnd when Sir Tristram saw Sir Marhaus withdraw him, he said: Ah! Sir\nKnight of the Round Table, why withdrawest thou thee? thou dost thyself\nand thy kin great shame, for I am but a young knight, or now I was\nnever proved, and rather than I should withdraw me from thee, I had\nrather be hewn in an hundred pieces. Sir Marhaus answered no word but\nyede his way sore groaning. Well, Sir Knight, said Sir Tristram, I\npromise thee thy sword and thy shield shall be mine; and thy shield\nshall I wear in all places where I ride on mine adventures, and in the\nsight of King Arthur and all the Round Table.\nCHAPTER VIII. How Sir Marhaus after that he was arrived in Ireland died\nof the stroke that Sir Tristram had given him, and how Tristram was\nhurt.\nAnon Sir Marhaus and his fellowship departed into Ireland. And as soon\nas he came to the king, his brother, he let search his wounds. And when\nhis head was searched a piece of Sir Tristram\u2019s sword was found\ntherein, and might never be had out of his head for no surgeons, and so\nhe died of Sir Tristram\u2019s sword; and that piece of the sword the queen,\nhis sister, kept it for ever with her, for she thought to be revenged\nan she might.\nNow turn we again unto Sir Tristram, that was sore wounded, and full\nsore bled that he might not within a little while, when he had taken\ncold, unnethe stir him of his limbs. And then he set him down softly\nupon a little hill, and bled fast. Then anon came Gouvernail, his man,\nwith his vessel; and the king and his barons came with procession\nagainst him. And when he was come unto the land, King Mark took him in\nhis arms, and the king and Sir Dinas, the seneschal, led Sir Tristram\ninto the castle of Tintagil. And then was he searched in the best\nmanner, and laid in his bed. And when King Mark saw his wounds he wept\nheartily, and so did all his lords. So God me help, said King Mark, I\nwould not for all my lands that my nephew died. So Sir Tristram lay\nthere a month and more, and ever he was like to die of that stroke that\nSir Marhaus smote him first with the spear. For, as the French book\nsaith, the spear\u2019s head was envenomed, that Sir Tristram might not be\nwhole. Then was King Mark and all his barons passing heavy, for they\ndeemed none other but that Sir Tristram should not recover. Then the\nking let send after all manner of leeches and surgeons, both unto men\nand women, and there was none that would behote him the life. Then came\nthere a lady that was a right wise lady, and she said plainly unto King\nMark, and to Sir Tristram, and to all his barons, that he should never\nbe whole but if Sir Tristram went in the same country that the venom\ncame from, and in that country should he be holpen or else never. Thus\nsaid the lady unto the king.\nWhen King Mark understood that, he let purvey for Sir Tristram a fair\nvessel, well victualled, and therein was put Sir Tristram, and\nGouvernail with him, and Sir Tristram took his harp with him, and so he\nwas put into the sea to sail into Ireland; and so by good fortune he\narrived up in Ireland, even fast by a castle where the king and the\nqueen was; and at his arrival he sat and harped in his bed a merry lay,\nsuch one heard they never none in Ireland before that time.\nAnd when it was told the king and the queen of such a knight that was\nsuch an harper, anon the king sent for him, and let search his wounds,\nand then asked him his name. Then he answered, I am of the country of\nLiones, and my name is Tramtrist, that thus was wounded in a battle as\nI fought for a lady\u2019s right. So God me help, said King Anguish, ye\nshall have all the help in this land that ye may have here; but I let\nyou wit, in Cornwall I had a great loss as ever had king, for there I\nlost the best knight of the world; his name was Marhaus, a full noble\nknight, and Knight of the Table Round; and there he told Sir Tristram\nwherefore Sir Marhaus was slain. Sir Tristram made semblant as he had\nbeen sorry, and better knew he how it was than the king.\nCHAPTER IX. How Sir Tristram was put to the keeping of La Beale Isoud\nfirst for to be healed of his wound.\nThen the king for great favour made Tramtrist to be put in his\ndaughter\u2019s ward and keeping, because she was a noble surgeon. And when\nshe had searched him she found in the bottom of his wound that therein\nwas poison, and so she healed him within a while; and therefore\nTramtrist cast great love to La Beale Isoud, for she was at that time\nthe fairest maid and lady of the world. And there Tramtrist learned her\nto harp, and she began to have a great fantasy unto him. And at that\ntime Sir Palamides, the Saracen, was in that country, and well\ncherished with the king and the queen. And every day Sir Palamides drew\nunto La Beale Isoud and proffered her many gifts, for he loved her\npassingly well. All that espied Tramtrist, and full well knew he Sir\nPalamides for a noble knight and a mighty man. And wit you well Sir\nTramtrist had great despite at Sir Palamides, for La Beale Isoud told\nTramtrist that Palamides was in will to be christened for her sake.\nThus was there great envy betwixt Tramtrist and Sir Palamides.\nThen it befell that King Anguish let cry a great jousts and a great\ntournament for a lady that was called the Lady of the Launds, and she\nwas nigh cousin unto the king. And what man won her, three days after\nhe should wed her and have all her lands. This cry was made in England,\nWales, Scotland, and also in France and in Brittany. It befell upon a\nday La Beale Isoud came unto Sir Tramtrist, and told him of this\ntournament. He answered and said: Fair lady, I am but a feeble knight,\nand but late I had been dead had not your good ladyship been. Now, fair\nlady, what would ye I should do in this matter? well ye wot, my lady,\nthat I may not joust. Ah, Tramtrist, said La Beale Isoud, why will ye\nnot have ado at that tournament? well I wot Sir Palamides shall be\nthere, and to do what he may; and therefore Tramtrist, I pray you for\nto be there, for else Sir Palamides is like to win the degree. Madam,\nsaid Tramtrist, as for that, it may be so, for he is a proved knight,\nand I am but a young knight and late made; and the first battle that I\ndid it mishapped me to be sore wounded as ye see. But an I wist ye\nwould be my better lady, at that tournament I will be, so that ye will\nkeep my counsel and let no creature have knowledge that I shall joust\nbut yourself, and such as ye will to keep your counsel, my poor person\nshall I jeopard there for your sake, that, peradventure, Sir Palamides\nshall know when that I come. Thereto, said La Beale Isoud, do your\nbest, and as I can, said La Beale Isoud, I shall purvey horse and\narmour for you at my device. As ye will so be it, said Sir Tramtrist, I\nwill be at your commandment.\nSo at the day of jousts there came Sir Palamides with a black shield,\nand he overthrew many knights, that all the people had marvel of him.\nFor he put to the worse Sir Gawaine, Gaheris, Agravaine, Bagdemagus,\nKay, Dodinas le Savage, Sagramore le Desirous, Gumret le Petit, and\nGriflet le Fise de Dieu. All these the first day Sir Palamides struck\ndown to the earth. And then all manner of knights were adread of Sir\nPalamides, and many called him the Knight with the Black Shield. So\nthat day Sir Palamides had great worship.\nThen came King Anguish unto Tramtrist, and asked him why he would not\njoust. Sir, he said, I was but late hurt, and as yet I dare not\nadventure me. Then came there the same squire that was sent from the\nking\u2019s daughter of France unto Sir Tristram. And when he had espied Sir\nTristram he fell flat to his feet. All that espied La Beale Isoud, what\ncourtesy the squire made unto Sir Tristram. And therewithal suddenly\nSir Tristram ran unto his squire, whose name was Hebes le Renoumes, and\nprayed him heartily in no wise to tell his name. Sir, said Hebes, I\nwill not discover your name but if ye command me.\nCHAPTER X. How Sir Tristram won the degree at a tournament in Ireland,\nand there made Palamides to bear no more harness in a year.\nThen Sir Tristram asked him what he did in those countries. Sir, he\nsaid, I came hither with Sir Gawaine for to be made knight, and if it\nplease you, of your hands that I may be made knight. Await upon me as\nto-morn secretly, and in the field I shall make you a knight.\nThen had La Beale Isoud great suspicion unto Tramtrist, that he was\nsome man of worship proved, and therewith she comforted herself, and\ncast more love unto him than she had done to-fore. And so on the morn\nSir Palamides made him ready to come into the field as he did the first\nday. And there he smote down the King with the Hundred Knights, and the\nKing of Scots. Then had La Beale Isoud ordained and well arrayed Sir\nTristram in white horse and harness. And right so she let put him out\nat a privy postern, and so he came into the field as it had been a\nbright angel. And anon Sir Palamides espied him, and therewith he\nfeutred a spear unto Sir Tramtrist, and he again unto him. And there\nSir Tristram smote down Sir Palamides unto the earth. And then there\nwas a great noise of people: some said Sir Palamides had a fall, some\nsaid the Knight with the Black Shield had a fall. And wit you well La\nBeale Isoud was passing glad. And then Sir Gawaine and his fellows nine\nhad marvel what knight it might be that had smitten down Sir Palamides.\nThen would there none joust with Tramtrist, but all that there were\nforsook him, most and least. Then Sir Tristram made Hebes a knight, and\ncaused him to put himself forth, and did right well that day. So after\nSir Hebes held him with Sir Tristram.\nAnd when Sir Palamides had received this fall, wit ye well that he was\nsore ashamed, and as privily as he might he withdrew him out of the\nfield. All that espied Sir Tristram, and lightly he rode after Sir\nPalamides and overtook him, and bade him turn, for better he would\nassay him or ever he departed. Then Sir Palamides turned him, and\neither lashed at other with their swords. But at the first stroke Sir\nTristram smote down Palamides, and gave him such a stroke upon the head\nthat he fell to the earth. So then Tristram bade yield him, and do his\ncommandment, or else he would slay him. When Sir Palamides beheld his\ncountenance, he dread his buffets so, that he granted all his askings.\nWell said, said Sir Tristram, this shall be your charge. First, upon\npain of your life that ye forsake my lady La Beale Isoud, and in no\nmanner wise that ye draw not to her. Also this twelvemonth and a day\nthat ye bear none armour nor none harness of war. Now promise me this,\nor here shalt thou die. Alas, said Palamides, for ever am I ashamed.\nThen he sware as Sir Tristram had commanded him. Then for despite and\nanger Sir Palamides cut off his harness, and threw them away.\nAnd so Sir Tristram turned again to the castle where was La Beale\nIsoud; and by the way he met with a damosel that asked after Sir\nLauncelot, that won the Dolorous Guard worshipfully; and this damosel\nasked Sir Tristram what he was. For it was told her that it was he that\nsmote down Sir Palamides, by whom the ten knights of King Arthur\u2019s were\nsmitten down. Then the damosel prayed Sir Tristram to tell her what he\nwas, and whether that he were Sir Launcelot du Lake, for she deemed\nthat there was no knight in the world might do such deeds of arms but\nif it were Launcelot. Fair damosel, said Sir Tristram, wit ye well that\nI am not Sir Launcelot, for I was never of such prowess, but in God is\nall that he may make me as good a knight as the good knight Sir\nLauncelot. Now, gentle knight, said she, put up thy visor; and when she\nbeheld his visage she thought she saw never a better man\u2019s visage, nor\na better faring knight. And then when the damosel knew certainly that\nhe was not Sir Launcelot, then she took her leave, and departed from\nhim. And then Sir Tristram rode privily unto the postern, where kept\nhim La Beale Isoud, and there she made him good cheer, and thanked God\nof his good speed. So anon, within a while the king and the queen\nunderstood that it was Tramtrist that smote down Sir Palamides; then\nwas he much made of, more than he was before.\nCHAPTER XI. How the queen espied that Sir Tristram had slain her\nbrother Sir Marhaus by his sword, and in what jeopardy he was.\nThus was Sir Tramtrist long there well cherished with the king and the\nqueen, and namely with La Beale Isoud. So upon a day the queen and La\nBeale Isoud made a bain for Sir Tramtrist. And when he was in his bain\nthe queen and Isoud, her daughter, roamed up and down in the chamber;\nand therewhiles Gouvernail and Hebes attended upon Tramtrist, and the\nqueen beheld his sword thereas it lay upon his bed. And then by unhap\nthe queen drew out his sword and beheld it a long while, and both they\nthought it a passing fair sword; but within a foot and an half of the\npoint there was a great piece thereof out-broken of the edge. And when\nthe queen espied that gap in the sword, she remembered her of a piece\nof a sword that was found in the brain-pan of Sir Marhaus, the good\nknight that was her brother. Alas then, said she unto her daughter, La\nBeale Isoud, this is the same traitor knight that slew my brother,\nthine eme. When Isoud heard her say so she was passing sore abashed,\nfor passing well she loved Tramtrist, and full well she knew the\ncruelness of her mother the queen.\nAnon therewithal the queen went unto her own chamber, and sought her\ncoffer, and there she took out the piece or the sword that was pulled\nout of Sir Marhaus\u2019 head after that he was dead. And then she ran with\nthat piece of iron to the sword that lay upon the bed. And when she put\nthat piece of steel and iron unto the sword, it was as meet as it might\nbe when it was new broken. And then the queen gripped that sword in her\nhand fiercely, and with all her might she ran straight upon Tramtrist\nwhere he sat in his bain, and there she had rived him through had not\nSir Hebes gotten her in his arms, and pulled the sword from her, and\nelse she had thrust him through.\nThen when she was let of her evil will she ran to the King Anguish, her\nhusband, and said on her knees: O my lord, here have ye in your house\nthat traitor knight that slew my brother and your servant, that noble\nknight, Sir Marhaus. Who is that, said King Anguish, and where is he?\nSir, she said, it is Sir Tramtrist, the same knight that my daughter\nhealed. Alas, said the king, therefore am I right heavy, for he is a\nfull noble knight as ever I saw in field. But I charge you, said the\nking to the queen, that ye have not ado with that knight, but let me\ndeal with him.\nThen the king went into the chamber unto Sir Tramtrist, and then was he\ngone unto his chamber, and the king found him all ready armed to mount\nupon his horse. When the king saw him all ready armed to go unto\nhorseback, the king said: Nay, Tramtrist, it will not avail to compare\nthee against me; but thus much I shall do for my worship and for thy\nlove; in so much as thou art within my court it were no worship for me\nto slay thee: therefore upon this condition I will give thee leave for\nto depart from this court in safety, so thou wilt tell me who was thy\nfather, and what is thy name, and if thou slew Sir Marhaus, my brother.\nCHAPTER XII. How Sir Tristram departed from the king and La Beale Isoud\nout of Ireland for to come into Cornwall.\nSir, said Tristram, now I shall tell you all the truth: my father\u2019s\nname is Sir Meliodas, King of Liones, and my mother hight Elizabeth,\nthat was sister unto King Mark of Cornwall; and my mother died of me in\nthe forest, and because thereof she commanded, or she died, that when I\nwere christened they should christen me Tristram; and because I would\nnot be known in this country I turned my name and let me call\nTramtrist; and for the truage of Cornwall I fought for my eme\u2019s sake,\nand for the right of Cornwall that ye had posseded many years. And wit\nye well, said Tristram unto the king, I did the battle for the love of\nmine uncle, King Mark, and for the love of the country of Cornwall, and\nfor to increase mine honour; for that same day that I fought with Sir\nMarhaus I was made knight, and never or then did I battle with no\nknight, and from me he went alive, and left his shield and his sword\nbehind.\nSo God me help, said the king, I may not say but ye did as a knight\nshould, and it was your part to do for your quarrel, and to increase\nyour worship as a knight should; howbeit I may not maintain you in this\ncountry with my worship, unless that I should displease my barons, and\nmy wife and her kin. Sir, said Tristram, I thank you of your good\nlordship that I have had with you here, and the great goodness my lady,\nyour daughter, hath shewed me, and therefore, said Sir Tristram, it may\nso happen that ye shall win more by my life than by my death, for in\nthe parts of England it may happen I may do you service at some season,\nthat ye shall be glad that ever ye shewed me your good lordship. With\nmore I promise you as I am true knight, that in all places I shall be\nmy lady your daughter\u2019s servant and knight in right and in wrong, and I\nshall never fail her, to do as much as a knight may do. Also I beseech\nyour good grace that I may take my leave at my lady, your daughter, and\nat all the barons and knights. I will well, said the king.\nThen Sir Tristram went unto La Beale Isoud and took his leave of her.\nAnd then he told her all, what he was, and how he had changed his name\nbecause he would not be known, and how a lady told him that he should\nnever be whole till he came into this country where the poison was\nmade, wherethrough I was near my death had not your ladyship been. O\ngentle knight, said La Beale Isoud, full woe am I of thy departing, for\nI saw never man that I owed so good will to. And therewithal she wept\nheartily. Madam, said Sir Tristram, ye shall understand that my name is\nSir Tristram de Liones, gotten of King Meliodas, and born of his queen.\nAnd I promise you faithfully that I shall be all the days of my life\nyour knight. Gramercy, said La Beale Isoud, and I promise you\nthere-against that I shall not be married this seven years but by your\nassent; and to whom that ye will I shall be married to him will I have,\nand he will have me if ye will consent.\nAnd then Sir Tristram gave her a ring, and she gave him another; and\ntherewith he departed from her, leaving her making great dole and\nlamentation; and he straight went unto the court among all the barons,\nand there he took his leave at most and least, and openly he said among\nthem all: Fair lords, now it is so that I must depart: if there be any\nman here that I have offended unto, or that any man be with me grieved,\nlet complain him here afore me or that ever I depart, and I shall amend\nit unto my power. And if there be any that will proffer me wrong, or\nsay of me wrong or shame behind my back, say it now or never, and here\nis my body to make it good, body against body. And all they stood\nstill, there was not one that would say one word; yet were there some\nknights that were of the queen\u2019s blood, and of Sir Marhaus\u2019 blood, but\nthey would not meddle with him.\nCHAPTER XIII. How Sir Tristram and King Mark hurted each other for the\nlove of a knight\u2019s wife.\nSo Sir Tristram departed, and took the sea, and with good wind he\narrived up at Tintagil in Cornwall; and when King Mark was whole in his\nprosperity there came tidings that Sir Tristram was arrived, and whole\nof his wounds: thereof was King Mark passing glad, and so were all the\nbarons; and when he saw his time he rode unto his father, King\nMeliodas, and there he had all the cheer that the king and the queen\ncould make him. And then largely King Meliodas and his queen departed\nof their lands and goods to Sir Tristram.\nThen by the license of King Meliodas, his father, he returned again\nunto the court of King Mark, and there he lived in great joy long time,\nuntil at the last there befell a jealousy and an unkindness betwixt\nKing Mark and Sir Tristram, for they loved both one lady. And she was\nan earl\u2019s wife that hight Sir Segwarides. And this lady loved Sir\nTristram passingly well. And he loved her again, for she was a passing\nfair lady, and that espied Sir Tristram well. Then King Mark understood\nthat and was jealous, for King Mark loved her passingly well.\nSo it fell upon a day this lady sent a dwarf unto Sir Tristram, and\nbade him, as he loved her, that he would be with her the night next\nfollowing. Also she charged you that ye come not to her but if ye be\nwell armed, for her lover was called a good knight. Sir Tristram\nanswered to the dwarf: Recommend me unto my lady, and tell her I will\nnot fail but I will be with her the term that she hath set me. And with\nthis answer the dwarf departed. And King Mark espied that the dwarf was\nwith Sir Tristram upon message from Segwarides\u2019 wife; then King Mark\nsent for the dwarf, and when he was come he made the dwarf by force to\ntell him all, why and wherefore that he came on message from Sir\nTristram. Now, said King Mark, go where thou wilt, and upon pain of\ndeath that thou say no word that thou spakest with me; so the dwarf\ndeparted from the king.\nAnd that same night that the steven was set betwixt Segwarides\u2019 wife\nand Sir Tristram, King Mark armed him, and made him ready, and took two\nknights of his counsel with him; and so he rode afore for to abide by\nthe way for to wait upon Sir Tristram. And as Sir Tristram came riding\nupon his way with his spear in his hand, King Mark came hurtling upon\nhim with his two knights suddenly. And all three smote him with their\nspears, and King Mark hurt Sir Tristram on the breast right sore. And\nthen Sir Tristram feutred his spear, and smote his uncle, King Mark, so\nsore, that he rashed him to the earth, and bruised him that he lay\nstill in a swoon, and long it was or ever he might wield himself. And\nthen he ran to the one knight, and eft to the other, and smote them to\nthe cold earth, that they lay still. And therewithal Sir Tristram rode\nforth sore wounded to the lady, and found her abiding him at a postern.\nCHAPTER XIV. How Sir Tristram lay with the lady, and how her husband\nfought with Sir Tristram.\nAnd there she welcomed him fair, and either halsed other in arms, and\nso she let put up his horse in the best wise, and then she unarmed him.\nAnd so they supped lightly, and went to bed with great joy and\npleasaunce; and so in his raging he took no keep of his green wound\nthat King Mark had given him. And so Sir Tristram be-bled both the over\nsheet and the nether, and pillows, and head sheet. And within a while\nthere came one afore, that warned her that her lord was near-hand\nwithin a bow-draught. So she made Sir Tristram to arise, and so he\narmed him, and took his horse, and so departed. By then was come\nSegwarides, her lord, and when he found her bed troubled and broken,\nand went near and beheld it by candle light, then he saw that there had\nlain a wounded knight. Ah, false traitress, then he said, why hast thou\nbetrayed me? And therewithal he swang out a sword, and said: But if\nthou tell me who hath been here, here thou shalt die. Ah, my lord,\nmercy, said the lady, and held up her hands, saying: Slay me not, and I\nshall tell you all who hath been here. Tell anon, said Segwarides, to\nme all the truth. Anon for dread she said: Here was Sir Tristram with\nme, and by the way as he came to me ward, he was sore wounded. Ah,\nfalse traitress, said Segwarides, where is he become? Sir, she said, he\nis armed, and departed on horseback, not yet hence half a mile. Ye say\nwell, said Segwarides.\nThen he armed him lightly, and gat his horse, and rode after Sir\nTristram that rode straightway unto Tintagil. And within a while he\novertook Sir Tristram, and then he bade him, Turn, false traitor\nknight. And Sir Tristram anon turned him against him. And therewithal\nSegwarides smote Sir Tristram with a spear that it all to-brast; and\nthen he swang out his sword and smote fast at Sir Tristram. Sir knight,\nsaid Sir Tristram, I counsel you that ye smite no more, howbeit for the\nwrongs that I have done you I will forbear you as long as I may. Nay,\nsaid Segwarides, that shall not be, for either thou shalt die or I.\nThen Sir Tristram drew out his sword, and hurtled his horse unto him\nfiercely, and through the waist of the body he smote Sir Segwarides\nthat he fell to the earth in a swoon. And so Sir Tristram departed and\nleft him there. And so he rode unto Tintagil and took his lodging\nsecretly, for he would not be known that he was hurt. Also Sir\nSegwarides\u2019 men rode after their master, whom they found lying in the\nfield sore wounded, and brought him home on his shield, and there he\nlay long or that he were whole, but at the last he recovered. Also King\nMark would not be aknown of that Sir Tristram and he had met that\nnight. And as for Sir Tristram, he knew not that King Mark had met with\nhim. And so the king askance came to Sir Tristram, to comfort him as he\nlay sick in his bed. But as long as King Mark lived he loved never Sir\nTristram after that; though there was fair speech, love was there none.\nAnd thus it passed many weeks and days, and all was forgiven and\nforgotten; for Sir Segwarides durst not have ado with Sir Tristram,\nbecause of his noble prowess, and also because he was nephew unto King\nMark; therefore he let it overslip: for he that hath a privy hurt is\nloath to have a shame outward.\nCHAPTER XV. How Sir Bleoberis demanded the fairest lady in King Mark\u2019s\ncourt, whom he took away, and how he was fought with.\nThen it befell upon a day that the good knight Bleoberis de Ganis,\nbrother to Blamore de Ganis, and nigh cousin unto the good knight Sir\nLauncelot du Lake, this Bleoberis came unto the court of King Mark, and\nthere he asked of King Mark a boon, to give him what gift that he would\nask in his court. When the king heard him ask so, he marvelled of his\nasking, but because he was a knight of the Round Table, and of a great\nrenown, King Mark granted him his whole asking. Then, said Sir\nBleoberis, I will have the fairest lady in your court that me list to\nchoose. I may not say nay, said King Mark; now choose at your\nadventure. And so Sir Bleoberis did choose Sir Segwarides\u2019 wife, and\ntook her by the hand, and so went his way with her; and so he took his\nhorse and gart set her behind his squire, and rode upon his way.\nWhen Sir Segwarides heard tell that his lady was gone with a knight of\nKing Arthur\u2019s court, then he armed him and rode after that knight for\nto rescue his lady. So when Bleoberis was gone with this lady, King\nMark and all the court was wroth that she was away. Then were there\ncertain ladies that knew that there were great love between Sir\nTristram and her, and also that lady loved Sir Tristram above all other\nknights. Then there was one lady that rebuked Sir Tristram in the\nhorriblest wise, and called him coward knight, that he would for shame\nof his knighthood see a lady so shamefully be taken away from his\nuncle\u2019s court. But she meant that either of them had loved other with\nentire heart. But Sir Tristram answered her thus: Fair lady, it is not\nmy part to have ado in such matters while her lord and husband is\npresent here; and if it had been that her lord had not been here in\nthis court, then for the worship of this court peradventure I would\nhave been her champion, and if so be Sir Segwarides speed not well, it\nmay happen that I will speak with that good knight or ever he pass from\nthis country.\nThen within a while came one of Sir Segwarides\u2019 squires, and told in\nthe court that Sir Segwarides was beaten sore and wounded to the point\nof death; as he would have rescued his lady Sir Bleoberis overthrew him\nand sore hath wounded him. Then was King Mark heavy thereof, and all\nthe court. When Sir Tristram heard of this he was ashamed and sore\ngrieved; and then was he soon armed and on horseback, and Gouvernail,\nhis servant, bare his shield and spear. And so as Sir Tristram rode\nfast he met with Sir Andred his cousin, that by the commandment of King\nMark was sent to bring forth, an ever it lay in his power, two knights\nof Arthur\u2019s court, that rode by the country to seek their adventures.\nWhen Sir Tristram saw Sir Andred he asked him what tidings. So God me\nhelp, said Sir Andred, there was never worse with me, for here by the\ncommandment of King Mark I was sent to fetch two knights of King\nArthur\u2019s court, and that one beat me and wounded me, and set nought by\nmy message. Fair cousin, said Sir Tristram, ride on your way, and if I\nmay meet them it may happen I shall revenge you. So Sir Andred rode\ninto Cornwall, and Sir Tristram rode after the two knights, the which\none hight Sagramore le Desirous, and the other hight Dodinas le Savage.\nCHAPTER XVI. How Sir Tristram fought with two knights of the Round\nTable.\nThen within a while Sir Tristram saw them afore him, two likely\nknights. Sir, said Gouvernail unto his master, Sir, I would counsel you\nnot to have ado with them, for they be two proved knights of Arthur\u2019s\ncourt. As for that, said Sir Tristram, have ye no doubt but I will have\nado with them to increase my worship, for it is many day sithen I did\nany deeds of arms. Do as ye list, said Gouvernail. And therewithal anon\nSir Tristram asked them from whence they came, and whither they would,\nand what they did in those marches. Sir Sagramore looked upon Sir\nTristram, and had scorn of his words, and asked him again, Fair knight,\nbe ye a knight of Cornwall? Whereby ask ye it? said Sir Tristram. For\nit is seldom seen, said Sir Sagramore, that ye Cornish knights be\nvaliant men of arms; for within these two hours there met us one of\nyour Cornish knights, and great words he spake, and anon with little\nmight he was laid to the earth. And, as I trow, said Sir Sagramore, ye\nshall have the same handsel that he had. Fair lords, said Sir Tristram,\nit may so happen that I may better withstand than he did, and whether\nye will or nill I will have ado with you, because he was my cousin that\nye beat. And therefore here do your best, and wit ye well but if ye\nquit you the better here upon this ground, one knight of Cornwall shall\nbeat you both.\nWhen Sir Dodinas le Savage heard him say so he gat a spear in his hand,\nand said, Sir knight, keep well thyself: And then they departed and\ncame together as it had been thunder. And Sir Dodinas\u2019 spear brast\nin-sunder, but Sir Tristram smote him with a more might, that he smote\nhim clean over the horse-croup, that nigh he had broken his neck. When\nSir Sagramore saw his fellow have such a fall he marvelled what knight\nhe might be. And he dressed his spear with all his might, and Sir\nTristram against him, and they came together as the thunder, and there\nSir Tristram smote Sir Sagramore a strong buffet, that he bare his\nhorse and him to the earth, and in the falling he brake his thigh.\nWhen this was done Sir Tristram asked them: Fair knights, will ye any\nmore? Be there no bigger knights in the court of King Arthur? it is to\nyou shame to say of us knights of Cornwall dishonour, for it may happen\na Cornish knight may match you. That is truth, said Sir Sagramore, that\nhave we well proved; but I require thee, said Sir Sagramore, tell us\nyour right name, by the faith and troth that ye owe to the high order\nof knighthood. Ye charge me with a great thing, said Sir Tristram, and\nsithen ye list to wit it, ye shall know and understand that my name is\nSir Tristram de Liones, King Meliodas\u2019 son, and nephew unto King Mark.\nThen were they two knights fain that they had met with Tristram, and so\nthey prayed him to abide in their fellowship. Nay, said Sir Tristram,\nfor I must have ado with one of your fellows, his name is Sir Bleoberis\nde Ganis. God speed you well, said Sir Sagramore and Dodinas. Sir\nTristram departed and rode onward on his way. And then was he ware\nbefore him in a valley where rode Sir Bleoberis, with Sir Segwarides\u2019\nlady, that rode behind his squire upon a palfrey.\nCHAPTER XVII. How Sir Tristram fought with Sir Bleoberis for a lady,\nand how the lady was put to choice to whom she would go.\nThen Sir Tristram rode more than a pace until that he had overtaken\nhim. Then spake Sir Tristram: Abide, he said, Knight of Arthur\u2019s court,\nbring again that lady, or deliver her to me. I will do neither, said\nBleoberis, for I dread no Cornish knight so sore that me list to\ndeliver her. Why, said Sir Tristram, may not a Cornish knight do as\nwell as another knight? this same day two knights of your court within\nthis three mile met with me, and or ever we departed they found a\nCornish knight good enough for them both. What were their names? said\nBleoberis. They told me, said Sir Tristram, that the one of them hight\nSir Sagramore le Desirous, and the other hight Dodinas le Savage. Ah,\nsaid Sir Bleoberis, have ye met with them? so God me help, they were\ntwo good knights and men of great worship, and if ye have beat them\nboth ye must needs be a good knight; but if it so be ye have beat them\nboth, yet shall ye not fear me, but ye shall beat me or ever ye have\nthis lady. Then defend you, said Sir Tristram. So they departed and\ncame together like thunder, and either bare other down, horse and all,\nto the earth.\nThen they avoided their horses, and lashed together eagerly with\nswords, and mightily, now tracing and traversing on the right hand and\non the left hand more than two hours. And sometime they rushed together\nwith such a might that they lay both grovelling on the ground. Then Sir\nBleoberis de Ganis stert aback, and said thus: Now, gentle good knight,\na while hold your hands, and let us speak together. Say what ye will,\nsaid Tristram, and I will answer you. Sir, said Bleoberis, I would wit\nof whence ye be, and of whom ye be come, and what is your name? So God\nme help, said Sir Tristram, I fear not to tell you my name. Wit ye well\nI am King Meliodas\u2019 son, and my mother is King Mark\u2019s sister, and my\nname is Sir Tristram de Liones, and King Mark is mine uncle. Truly,\nsaid Bleoberis, I am right glad of you, for ye are he that slew Marhaus\nthe knight, hand for hand in an island, for the truage of Cornwall;\nalso ye overcame Sir Palamides the good knight, at a tournament in an\nisland, where ye beat Sir Gawaine and his nine fellows. So God me help,\nsaid Sir Tristram, wit ye well that I am the same knight; now I have\ntold you my name, tell me yours with good will. Wit ye well that my\nname is Sir Bleoberis de Ganis, and my brother hight Sir Blamore de\nGanis, that is called a good knight, and we be sister\u2019s children unto\nmy lord Sir Launcelot du Lake, that we call one of the best knights of\nthe world. That is truth, said Sir Tristram, Sir Launcelot is called\npeerless of courtesy and of knighthood; and for his sake, said Sir\nTristram, I will not with my good will fight no more with you, for the\ngreat love I have to Sir Launcelot du Lake. In good faith, said\nBleoberis, as for me I will be loath to fight with you; but sithen ye\nfollow me here to have this lady, I shall proffer you kindness,\ncourtesy, and gentleness right here upon this ground. This lady shall\nbe betwixt us both, and to whom that she will go, let him have her in\npeace. I will well, said Tristram, for, as I deem, she will leave you\nand come to me. Ye shall prove it anon, said Bleoberis.\nCHAPTER XVIII. How the lady forsook Sir Tristram and abode with Sir\nBleoberis, and how she desired to go to her husband.\nSo when she was set betwixt them both she said these words unto Sir\nTristram: Wit ye well, Sir Tristram de Liones, that but late thou wast\nthe man in the world that I most loved and trusted, and I weened thou\nhadst loved me again above all ladies; but when thou sawest this knight\nlead me away thou madest no cheer to rescue me, but suffered my lord\nSegwarides ride after me; but until that time I weened thou haddest\nloved me, and therefore now I will leave thee, and never love thee\nmore. And therewithal she went unto Sir Bleoberis.\nWhen Sir Tristram saw her do so he was wonderly wroth with that lady,\nand ashamed to come to the court. Sir Tristram, said Sir Bleoberis, ye\nare in the default, for I hear by this lady\u2019s words she before this day\ntrusted you above all earthly knights, and, as she saith, ye have\ndeceived her, therefore wit ye well, there may no man hold that will\naway; and rather than ye should be heartily displeased with me I would\nye had her, an she would abide with you. Nay, said the lady, so God me\nhelp I will never go with him; for he that I loved most I weened he had\nloved me. And therefore, Sir Tristram, she said, ride as thou came, for\nthough thou haddest overcome this knight, as ye was likely, with thee\nnever would I have gone. And I shall pray this knight so fair of his\nknighthood, that or ever he pass this country, that he will lead me to\nthe abbey where my lord Sir Segwarides lieth. So God me help, said\nBleoberis, I let you wit, good knight Sir Tristram, because King Mark\ngave me the choice of a gift in this court, and so this lady liked me\nbest\u2014notwithstanding, she is wedded and hath a lord, and I have\nfulfilled my quest, she shall be sent unto her husband again, and in\nespecial most for your sake, Sir Tristram; and if she would go with you\nI would ye had her. I thank you, said Sir Tristram, but for her love I\nshall beware what manner a lady I shall love or trust; for had her\nlord, Sir Segwarides, been away from the court, I should have been the\nfirst that should have followed you; but sithen that ye have refused\nme, as I am true knight I shall her know passingly well that I shall\nlove or trust. And so they took their leave one from the other and\ndeparted.\nAnd so Sir Tristram rode unto Tintagil, and Sir Bleoberis rode unto the\nabbey where Sir Segwarides lay sore wounded, and there he delivered his\nlady, and departed as a noble knight; and when Sir Segwarides saw his\nlady, he was greatly comforted; and then she told him that Sir Tristram\nhad done great battle with Sir Bleoberis, and caused him to bring her\nagain. These words pleased Sir Segwarides right well, that Sir Tristram\nwould do so much; and so that lady told all the battle unto King Mark\nbetwixt Sir Tristram and Sir Bleoberis.\nCHAPTER XIX. How King Mark sent Sir Tristram for La Beale Isoud toward\nIreland, and how by fortune he arrived into England.\nThen when this was done King Mark cast always in his heart how he might\ndestroy Sir Tristram. And then he imagined in himself to send Sir\nTristram into Ireland for La Beale Isoud. For Sir Tristram had so\npraised her beauty and her goodness that King Mark said that he would\nwed her, whereupon he prayed Sir Tristram to take his way into Ireland\nfor him on message. And all this was done to the intent to slay Sir\nTristram. Notwithstanding, Sir Tristram would not refuse the message\nfor no danger nor peril that might fall, for the pleasure of his uncle,\nbut to go he made him ready in the most goodliest wise that might be\ndevised. For Sir Tristram took with him the most goodliest knights that\nhe might find in the court; and they were arrayed, after the guise that\nwas then used, in the goodliest manner. So Sir Tristram departed and\ntook the sea with all his fellowship. And anon, as he was in the broad\nsea a tempest took him and his fellowship, and drove them back into the\ncoast of England; and there they arrived fast by Camelot, and full fain\nthey were to take the land.\nAnd when they were landed Sir Tristram set up his pavilion upon the\nland of Camelot, and there he let hang his shield upon the pavilion.\nAnd that same day came two knights of King Arthur\u2019s, that one was Sir\nEctor de Maris, and Sir Morganor. And they touched the shield, and bade\nhim come out of the pavilion for to joust, an he would joust. Ye shall\nbe answered, said Sir Tristram, an ye will tarry a little while. So he\nmade him ready, and first he smote down Sir Ector de Maris, and after\nhe smote down Sir Morganor, all with one spear, and sore bruised them.\nAnd when they lay upon the earth they asked Sir Tristram what he was,\nand of what country he was knight. Fair lords, said Sir Tristram, wit\nye well that I am of Cornwall. Alas, said Sir Ector, now am I ashamed\nthat ever any Cornish knight should overcome me. And then for despite\nSir Ector put off his armour from him, and went on foot, and would not\nride.\nCHAPTER XX. How King Anguish of Ireland was summoned to come to King\nArthur\u2019s court for treason.\nThen it fell that Sir Bleoberis and Sir Blamore de Ganis, that were\nbrethren, they had summoned the King Anguish of Ireland for to come to\nArthur\u2019s court upon pain of forfeiture of King Arthur\u2019s good grace. And\nif the King of Ireland came not in, at the day assigned and set, the\nking should lose his lands. So it happened that at the day assigned,\nKing Arthur neither Sir Launcelot might not be there for to give the\njudgment, for King Arthur was with Sir Launcelot at the Castle Joyous\nGarde. And so King Arthur assigned King Carados and the King of Scots\nto be there that day as judges. So when the kings were at Camelot King\nAnguish of Ireland was come to know his accusers. Then was there Sir\nBlamore de Ganis, and appealed the King of Ireland of treason, that he\nhad slain a cousin of his in his court in Ireland by treason. The king\nwas sore abashed of his accusation, for-why he was come at the summons\nof King Arthur, and or he came at Camelot he wist not wherefore he was\nsent after. And when the king heard Sir Blamore say his will, he\nunderstood well there was none other remedy but for to answer him\nknightly; for the custom was such in those days, that an any man were\nappealed of any treason or murder he should fight body for body, or\nelse to find another knight for him. And all manner of murders in those\ndays were called treason.\nSo when King Anguish understood his accusing he was passing heavy, for\nhe knew Sir Blamore de Ganis that he was a noble knight, and of noble\nknights come. Then the King of Ireland was simply purveyed of his\nanswer; therefore the judges gave him respite by the third day to give\nhis answer. So the king departed unto his lodging. The meanwhile there\ncame a lady by Sir Tristram\u2019s pavilion making great dole. What aileth\nyou, said Sir Tristram, that ye make such dole? Ah, fair knight, said\nthe lady, I am ashamed unless that some good knight help me; for a\ngreat lady of worship sent by me a fair child and a rich, unto Sir\nLauncelot du Lake, and hereby there met with me a knight, and threw me\ndown from my palfrey, and took away the child from me. Well, my lady,\nsaid Sir Tristram, and for my lord Sir Launcelot\u2019s sake I shall get you\nthat child again, or else I shall be beaten for it. And so Sir Tristram\ntook his horse, and asked the lady which way the knight rode; and then\nshe told him. And he rode after him, and within a while he overtook\nthat knight. And then Sir Tristram bade him turn and give again the\nchild.\nCHAPTER XXI. How Sir Tristram rescued a child from a knight, and how\nGouvernail told him of King Anguish.\nThe knight turned his horse and made him ready to fight. And then Sir\nTristram smote him with a sword such a buffet that he tumbled to the\nearth. And then he yielded him unto Sir Tristram. Then come thy way,\nsaid Sir Tristram, and bring the child to the lady again. So he took\nhis horse meekly and rode with Sir Tristram; and then by the way Sir\nTristram asked him his name. Then he said, My name is Breuse Saunce\nPit\u00e9. So when he had delivered that child to the lady, he said: Sir, as\nin this the child is well remedied. Then Sir Tristram let him go again\nthat sore repented him after, for he was a great foe unto many good\nknights of King Arthur\u2019s court.\nThen when Sir Tristram was in his pavilion Gouvernail, his man, came\nand told him how that King Anguish of Ireland was come thither, and he\nwas put in great distress; and there Gouvernail told Sir Tristram how\nKing Anguish was summoned and appealed of murder. So God me help, said\nSir Tristram, these be the best tidings that ever came to me this seven\nyears, for now shall the King of Ireland have need of my help; for I\ndaresay there is no knight in this country that is not of Arthur\u2019s\ncourt dare do battle with Sir Blamore de Ganis; and for to win the love\nof the King of Ireland I will take the battle upon me; and therefore\nGouvernail bring me, I charge thee, to the king.\nThen Gouvernail went unto King Anguish of Ireland, and saluted him\nfair. The king welcomed him and asked him what he would. Sir, said\nGouvernail, here is a knight near hand that desireth to speak with you:\nhe bade me say he would do you service. What knight is he? said the\nking. Sir, said he, it is Sir Tristram de Liones, that for your good\ngrace that ye showed him in your lands will reward you in this country.\nCome on, fellow, said the king, with me anon and show me unto Sir\nTristram. So the king took a little hackney and but few fellowship with\nhim, until he came unto Sir Tristram\u2019s pavilion. And when Sir Tristram\nsaw the king he ran unto him and would have holden his stirrup. But the\nking leapt from his horse lightly, and either halsed other in their\narms. My gracious lord, said Sir Tristram, gramercy of your great\ngoodnesses showed unto me in your marches and lands: and at that time I\npromised you to do you service an ever it lay in my power. And, gentle\nknight, said the king unto Sir Tristram, now have I great need of you,\nnever had I so great need of no knight\u2019s help. How so, my good lord?\nsaid Sir Tristram. I shall tell you, said the king: I am summoned and\nappealed from my country for the death of a knight that was kin unto\nthe good knight Sir Launcelot; wherefore Sir Blamore de Ganis, brother\nto Sir Bleoberis hath appealed me to fight with him, outher to find a\nknight in my stead. And well I wot, said the king, these that are come\nof King Ban\u2019s blood, as Sir Launcelot and these other, are passing good\nknights, and hard men for to win in battle as any that I know now\nliving. Sir, said Sir Tristram, for the good lordship ye showed me in\nIreland, and for my lady your daughter\u2019s sake, La Beale Isoud, I will\ntake the battle for you upon this condition that ye shall grant me two\nthings: that one is that ye shall swear to me that ye are in the right,\nthat ye were never consenting to the knight\u2019s death; Sir, then said Sir\nTristram, when that I have done this battle, if God give me grace that\nI speed, that ye shall give me a reward, what thing reasonable that I\nwill ask of you. So God me help, said the king, ye shall have\nwhatsomever ye will ask. It is well said, said Sir Tristram.\nCHAPTER XXII. How Sir Tristram fought for Sir Anguish and overcame his\nadversary, and how his adversary would never yield him.\nNow make your answer that your champion is ready, for I shall die in\nyour quarrel rather than to be recreant. I have no doubt of you, said\nthe king, that, an ye should have ado with Sir Launcelot du Lake\u2014 Sir,\nsaid Sir Tristram, as for Sir Launcelot, he is called the noblest\nknight of the world, and wit ye well that the knights of his blood are\nnoble men, and dread shame; and as for Bleoberis, brother unto Sir\nBlamore, I have done battle with him, therefore upon my head it is no\nshame to call him a good knight. It is noised, said the king, that\nBlamore is the hardier knight. Sir, as for that let him be, he shall\nnever be refused, an as he were the best knight that now beareth shield\nor spear.\nSo King Anguish departed unto King Carados and the kings that were that\ntime as judges, and told them that he had found his champion ready.\nThen by the commandment of the kings Sir Blamore de Ganis and Sir\nTristram were sent for to hear the charge. And when they were come\nbefore the judges there were many kings and knights beheld Sir\nTristram, and much speech they had of him because that he slew Sir\nMarhaus, the good knight, and because he for-jousted Sir Palamides the\ngood knight. So when they had taken their charge they withdrew them to\nmake them ready to do battle.\nThen said Sir Bleoberis unto his brother, Sir Blamore: Fair dear\nbrother, remember of what kin we be come of, and what a man is Sir\nLauncelot du Lake, neither farther nor nearer but brother\u2019s children,\nand there was never none of our kin that ever was shamed in battle; and\nrather suffer death, brother, than to be shamed. Brother, said Blamore,\nhave ye no doubt of me, for I shall never shame none of my blood;\nhowbeit I am sure that yonder knight is called a passing good knight as\nof his time one of the world, yet shall I never yield me, nor say the\nloath word: well may he happen to smite me down with his great might of\nchivalry, but rather shall he slay me than I shall yield me as\nrecreant. God speed you well, said Sir Bleoberis, for ye shall find him\nthe mightiest knight that ever ye had ado withal, for I know him, for I\nhave had ado with him. God me speed, said Sir Blamore de Ganis; and\ntherewith he took his horse at the one end of the lists, and Sir\nTristram at the other end of the lists, and so they feutred their\nspears and came together as it had been thunder; and there Sir Tristram\nthrough great might smote down Sir Blamore and his horse to the earth.\nThen anon Sir Blamore avoided his horse and pulled out his sword and\nthrew his shield afore him, and bade Sir Tristram alight: For though an\nhorse hath failed me, I trust to God the earth will not fail me. And\nthen Sir Tristram alighted, and dressed him unto battle; and there they\nlashed together strongly as racing and tracing, foining and dashing,\nmany sad strokes, that the kings and knights had great wonder that they\nmight stand; for ever they fought like wood men, so that there was\nnever knights seen fight more fiercely than they did; for Sir Blamore\nwas so hasty that he would have no rest, that all men wondered that\nthey had breath to stand on their feet; and all the place was bloody\nthat they fought in. And at the last, Sir Tristram smote Sir Blamore\nsuch a buffet upon the helm that he there fell down upon his side, and\nSir Tristram stood and beheld him.\nCHAPTER XXIII. How Sir Blamore desired Tristram to slay him, and how\nSir Tristram spared him, and how they took appointment.\nThen when Sir Blamore might speak, he said thus: Sir Tristram de\nLiones, I require thee, as thou art a noble knight, and the best knight\nthat ever I found, that thou wilt slay me out, for I would not live to\nbe made lord of all the earth, for I have liefer die with worship than\nlive with shame; and needs, Sir Tristram, thou must slay me, or else\nthou shalt never win the field, for I will never say the loath word.\nAnd therefore if thou dare slay me, slay me, I require thee. When Sir\nTristram heard him say so knightly, he wist not what to do with him; he\nremembering him of both parties, of what blood he was come, and for Sir\nLauncelot\u2019s sake he would be loath to slay him; and in the other party\nin no wise he might not choose, but that he must make him to say the\nloath word, or else to slay him.\nThen Sir Tristram stert aback, and went to the kings that were judges,\nand there he kneeled down to-fore them, and besought them for their\nworships, and for King Arthur\u2019s and Sir Launcelot\u2019s sake, that they\nwould take this matter in their hands. For, my fair lords, said Sir\nTristram, it were shame and pity that this noble knight that yonder\nlieth should be slain; for ye hear well, shamed will he not be, and I\npray to God that he never be slain nor shamed for me. And as for the\nking for whom I fight for, I shall require him, as I am his true\nchampion and true knight in this field, that he will have mercy upon\nthis good knight. So God me help, said King Anguish, I will for your\nsake; Sir Tristram, be ruled as ye will have me, for I know you for my\ntrue knight; and therefore I will heartily pray the kings that be here\nas judges to take it in their hands. And the kings that were judges\ncalled Sir Bleoberis to them, and asked him his advice. My lords, said\nBleoberis, though my brother be beaten, and hath the worse through\nmight of arms, I dare say, though Sir Tristram hath beaten his body he\nhath not beaten his heart, and I thank God he is not shamed this day;\nand rather than he should be shamed I require you, said Bleoberis, let\nSir Tristram slay him out. It shall not be so, said the kings, for his\npart adversary, both the king and the champion, have pity of Sir\nBlamore\u2019s knighthood. My lords, said Bleoberis, I will right well as ye\nwill.\nThen the kings called the King of Ireland, and found him goodly and\ntreatable. And then, by all their advices, Sir Tristram and Sir\nBleoberis took up Sir Blamore, and the two brethren were accorded with\nKing Anguish, and kissed and made friends for ever. And then Sir\nBlamore and Sir Tristram kissed together, and there they made their\noaths that they would never none of them two brethren fight with Sir\nTristram, and Sir Tristram made the same oath. And for that gentle\nbattle all the blood of Sir Launcelot loved Sir Tristram for ever.\nThen King Anguish and Sir Tristram took their leave, and sailed into\nIreland with great noblesse and joy. So when they were in Ireland the\nking let make it known throughout all the land how and in what manner\nSir Tristram had done for him. Then the queen and all that there were\nmade the most of him that they might. But the joy that La Beale Isoud\nmade of Sir Tristram there might no tongue tell, for of all men earthly\nshe loved him most.\nCHAPTER XXIV. How Sir Tristram demanded La Beale Isoud for King Mark,\nand how Sir Tristram and Isoud drank the love drink.\nThen upon a day King Anguish asked Sir Tristram why he asked not his\nboon, for whatsomever he had promised him he should have it without\nfail. Sir, said Sir Tristram, now is it time; this is all that I will\ndesire, that ye will give me La Beale Isoud, your daughter, not for\nmyself, but for mine uncle, King Mark, that shall have her to wife, for\nso have I promised him. Alas, said the king, I had liefer than all the\nland that I have ye would wed her yourself. Sir, an I did then I were\nshamed for ever in this world, and false of my promise. Therefore, said\nSir I Tristram, I pray you hold your promise that ye promised me; for\nthis is my desire, that ye will give me La Beale Isoud to go with me\ninto Cornwall for to be wedded to King Mark, mine uncle. As for that,\nsaid King Anguish, ye shall have her with you to do with her what it\nplease you; that is for to say if that ye list to wed her yourself,\nthat is me liefest, and if ye will give her unto King Mark, your uncle,\nthat is in your choice. So, to make short conclusion, La Beale Isoud\nwas made ready to go with Sir Tristram, and Dame Bragwaine went with\nher for her chief gentlewoman, with many other.\nThen the queen, Isoud\u2019s mother, gave to her and Dame Bragwaine, her\ndaughter\u2019s gentlewoman, and unto Gouvernail, a drink, and charged them\nthat what day King Mark should wed, that same day they should give him\nthat drink, so that King Mark should drink to La Beale Isoud, and then,\nsaid the queen, I undertake either shall love other the days of their\nlife. So this drink was given unto Dame Bragwaine, and unto Gouvernail.\nAnd then anon Sir Tristram took the sea, and La Beale Isoud; and when\nthey were in their cabin, it happed so that they were thirsty, and they\nsaw a little flasket of gold stand by them, and it seemed by the colour\nand the taste that it was noble wine. Then Sir Tristram took the\nflasket in his hand, and said, Madam Isoud, here is the best drink that\never ye drank, that Dame Bragwaine, your maiden, and Gouvernail, my\nservant, have kept for themselves. Then they laughed and made good\ncheer, and either drank to other freely, and they thought never drink\nthat ever they drank to other was so sweet nor so good. But by that\ntheir drink was in their bodies, they loved either other so well that\nnever their love departed for weal neither for woe. And thus it happed\nthe love first betwixt Sir Tristram and La Beale Isoud, the which love\nnever departed the days of their life.\nSo then they sailed till by fortune they came nigh a castle that hight\nPluere, and thereby arrived for to repose them, weening to them to have\nhad good harbourage. But anon as Sir Tristram was within the castle\nthey were taken prisoners; for the custom of the castle was such; who\nthat rode by that castle and brought any lady, he must needs fight with\nthe lord, that hight Breunor. And if it were so that Breunor won the\nfield, then should the knight stranger and his lady be put to death,\nwhat that ever they were; and if it were so that the strange knight won\nthe field of Sir Breunor, then should he die and his lady both. This\ncustom was used many winters, for it was called the Castle Pluere, that\nis to say the Weeping Castle.\nCHAPTER XXV. How Sir Tristram and Isoud were in prison, and how he\nfought for her beauty, and smote off another lady\u2019s head.\nThus as Sir Tristram and La Beale Isoud were in prison, it happed a\nknight and a lady came unto them where they were, to cheer them. I have\nmarvel, said Tristram unto the knight and the lady, what is the cause\nthe lord of this castle holdeth us in prison: it was never the custom\nof no place of worship that ever I came in, when a knight and a lady\nasked harbour, and they to receive them, and after to destroy them that\nbe his guests. Sir, said the knight, this is the old custom of this\ncastle, that when a knight cometh here he must needs fight with our\nlord, and he that is weaker must lose his head. And when that is done,\nif his lady that he bringeth be fouler than our lord\u2019s wife, she must\nlose her head: and if she be fairer proved than is our lady, then shall\nthe lady of this castle lose her head. So God me help, said Sir\nTristram, this is a foul custom and a shameful. But one advantage have\nI, said Sir Tristram, I have a lady is fair enough, fairer saw I never\nin all my life-days, and I doubt not for lack of beauty she shall not\nlose her head; and rather than I should lose my head I will fight for\nit on a fair field. Wherefore, sir knight, I pray you tell your lord\nthat I will be ready as to-morn with my lady, and myself to do battle,\nif it be so I may have my horse and mine armour. Sir, said that knight,\nI undertake that your desire shall be sped right well. And then he\nsaid: Take your rest, and look that ye be up betimes and make you ready\nand your lady, for ye shall want no thing that you behoveth. And\ntherewith he departed, and on the morn betimes that same knight came to\nSir Tristram, and fetched him out and his lady, and brought him horse\nand armour that was his own, and bade him make him ready to the field,\nfor all the estates and commons of that lordship were there ready to\nbehold that battle and judgment.\nThen came Sir Breunor, the lord of that castle, with his lady in his\nhand, muffled, and asked Sir Tristram where was his lady: For an thy\nlady be fairer than mine, with thy sword smite off my lady\u2019s head; and\nif my lady be fairer than thine, with my sword I must strike off her\nhead. And if I may win thee, yet shall thy lady be mine, and thou shalt\nlose thy head. Sir, said Tristram, this is a foul custom and horrible;\nand rather than my lady should lose her head, yet had I liefer lose my\nhead. Nay, nay, said Sir Breunor, the ladies shall be first showed\ntogether, and the one shall have her judgment. Nay, I will not so, said\nSir Tristram, for here is none that will give righteous judgment. But I\ndoubt not, said Sir Tristram, my lady is fairer than thine, and that\nwill I prove and make good with my hand. And whosomever he be that will\nsay the contrary I will prove it on his head. And therewith Sir\nTristram showed La Beale Isoud, and turned her thrice about with his\nnaked sword in his hand. And when Sir Breunor saw that, he did the same\nwise turn his lady. But when Sir Breunor beheld La Beale Isoud, him\nthought he saw never a fairer lady, and then he dread his lady\u2019s head\nshould be off. And so all the people that were there present gave\njudgment that La Beale Isoud was the fairer lady and the better made.\nHow now, said Sir Tristram, meseemeth it were pity that my lady should\nlose her head, but because thou and she of long time have used this\nwicked custom, and by you both have many good knights and ladies been\ndestroyed, for that cause it were no loss to destroy you both. So God\nme help, said Sir Breunor, for to say the sooth, thy lady is fairer\nthan mine, and that me sore repenteth. And so I hear the people privily\nsay, for of all women I saw none so fair; and therefore, an thou wilt\nslay my lady, I doubt not but I shall slay thee and have thy lady. Thou\nshalt win her, said Sir Tristram, as dear as ever knight won lady. And\nbecause of thine own judgment, as thou wouldst have done to my lady if\nthat she had been fouler, and because of the evil custom, give me thy\nlady, said Sir Tristram. And therewithal Sir Tristram strode unto him\nand took his lady from him, and with an awk stroke he smote off her\nhead clean. Well, knight, said Sir Breunor, now hast thou done me a\ndespite.\nCHAPTER XXVI. How Sir Tristram fought with Sir Breunor, and at the last\nsmote off his head.\nNow take thine horse: sithen I am ladyless I will win thy lady an I\nmay.\nThen they took their horses and came together as it had been the\nthunder; and Sir Tristram smote Sir Breunor clean from his horse, and\nlightly he rose up; and as Sir Tristram came again by him he thrust his\nhorse throughout both the shoulders, that his horse hurled here and\nthere and fell dead to the ground. And ever Sir Breunor ran after to\nhave slain Sir Tristram, but Sir Tristram was light and nimble, and\nvoided his horse lightly. And or ever Sir Tristram might dress his\nshield and his sword the other gave him three or four sad strokes. Then\nthey rushed together like two boars, tracing and traversing mightily\nand wisely as two noble knights. For this Sir Breunor was a proved\nknight, and had been or then the death of many good knights, that it\nwas pity that he had so long endured.\nThus they fought, hurling here and there nigh two hours, and either\nwere wounded sore. Then at the last Sir Breunor rashed upon Sir\nTristram and took him in his arms, for he trusted much in his strength.\nThen was Sir Tristram called the strongest and the highest knight of\nthe world; for he was called bigger than Sir Launcelot, but Sir\nLauncelot was better breathed. So anon Sir Tristram thrust Sir Breunor\ndown grovelling, and then he unlaced his helm and struck off his head.\nAnd then all they that longed to the castle came to him, and did him\nhomage and fealty, praying him that he would abide there still a little\nwhile to fordo that foul custom. Sir Tristram granted thereto. The\nmeanwhile one of the knights of the castle rode unto Sir Galahad, the\nhaut prince, the which was Sir Breunor\u2019s son, which was a noble knight,\nand told him what misadventure his father had and his mother.\nCHAPTER XXVII. How Sir Galahad fought with Sir Tristram, and how Sir\nTristram yielded him and promised to fellowship with Launcelot.\nThen came Sir Galahad, and the King with the Hundred Knights with him;\nand this Sir Galahad proffered to fight with Sir Tristram hand for\nhand. And so they made them ready to go unto battle on horseback with\ngreat courage. Then Sir Galahad and Sir Tristram met together so hard\nthat either bare other down, horse and all, to the earth. And then they\navoided their horses as noble knights, and dressed their shields, and\ndrew their swords with ire and rancour, and they lashed together many\nsad strokes, and one while striking, another while foining, tracing and\ntraversing as noble knights; thus they fought long, near half a day,\nand either were sore wounded. At the last Sir Tristram waxed light and\nbig, and doubled his strokes, and drove Sir Galahad aback on the one\nside and on the other, so that he was like to have been slain.\nWith that came the King with the Hundred Knights, and all that\nfellowship went fiercely upon Sir Tristram. When Sir Tristram saw them\ncoming upon him, then he wist well he might not endure. Then as a wise\nknight of war, he said to Sir Galahad, the haut prince: Sir, ye show to\nme no knighthood, for to suffer all your men to have ado with me all at\nonce; and as meseemeth ye be a noble knight of your hands it is great\nshame to you. So God me help, said Sir Galahad, there is none other way\nbut thou must yield thee to me, other else to die, said Sir Galahad to\nSir Tristram. I will rather yield me to you than die for that is more\nfor the might of your men than of your hands. And therewithal Sir\nTristram took his own sword by the point, and put the pommel in the\nhand of Sir Galahad.\nTherewithal came the King with the Hundred Knights, and hard began to\nassail Sir Tristram. Let be, said Sir Galahad, be ye not so hardy to\ntouch him, for I have given this knight his life. That is your shame,\nsaid the King with the Hundred Knights; hath he not slain your father\nand your mother? As for that, said Sir Galahad, I may not wite him\ngreatly, for my father had him in prison, and enforced him to do battle\nwith him; and my father had such a custom that was a shameful custom,\nthat what knight came there to ask harbour his lady must needs die but\nif she were fairer than my mother; and if my father overcame that\nknight he must needs die. This was a shameful custom and usage, a\nknight for his harbour-asking to have such harbourage. And for this\ncustom I would never draw about him. So God me help, said the King,\nthis was a shameful custom. Truly, said Sir Galahad, so seemed me; and\nmeseemed it had been great pity that this knight should have been\nslain, for I dare say he is the noblest man that beareth life, but if\nit were Sir Launcelot du Lake. Now, fair knight, said Sir Galahad, I\nrequire thee tell me thy name, and of whence thou art, and whither thou\nwilt. Sir, he said, my name is Sir Tristram de Liones, and from King\nMark of Cornwall I was sent on message unto King Anguish of Ireland,\nfor to fetch his daughter to be his wife, and here she is ready to go\nwith me into Cornwall, and her name is La Beale Isoud. And, Sir\nTristram, said Sir Galahad, the haut prince, well be ye found in these\nmarches, and so ye will promise me to go unto Sir Launcelot du Lake,\nand accompany with him, ye shall go where ye will, and your fair lady\nwith you; and I shall promise you never in all my days shall such\ncustoms be used in this castle as have been used. Sir, said Sir\nTristram, now I let you wit, so God me help, I weened ye had been Sir\nLauncelot du Lake when I saw you first, and therefore I dread you the\nmore; and sir, I promise you, said Sir Tristram, as soon as I may I\nwill see Sir Launcelot and in fellowship me with him; for of all the\nknights of the world I most desire his fellowship.\nCHAPTER XXVIII. How Sir Launcelot met with Sir Carados bearing away Sir\nGawaine, and of the rescue of Sir Gawaine.\nAnd then Sir Tristram took his leave when he saw his time, and took the\nsea. And in the meanwhile word came unto Sir Launcelot and to Sir\nTristram that Sir Carados, the mighty king, that was made like a giant,\nfought with Sir Gawaine, and gave him such strokes that he swooned in\nhis saddle, and after that he took him by the collar and pulled him out\nof his saddle, and fast bound him to the saddle-bow, and so rode his\nway with him toward his castle. And as he rode, by fortune Sir\nLauncelot met with Sir Carados, and anon he knew Sir Gawaine that lay\nbound after him. Ah, said Sir Launcelot unto Sir Gawaine, how stands it\nwith you? Never so hard, said Sir Gawaine, unless that ye help me, for\nso God me help, without ye rescue me I know no knight that may, but\nouther you or Sir Tristram. Wherefore Sir Launcelot was heavy of Sir\nGawaine\u2019s words. And then Sir Launcelot bade Sir Carados: Lay down that\nknight and fight with me. Thou art but a fool, said Sir Carados, for I\nwill serve you in the same wise. As for that, said Sir Launcelot, spare\nme not, for I warn thee I will not spare thee. And then he bound Sir\nGawaine hand and foot, and so threw him to the ground. And then he gat\nhis spear of his squire, and departed from Sir Launcelot to fetch his\ncourse. And so either met with other, and brake their spears to their\nhands; and then they pulled out swords, and hurtled together on\nhorseback more than an hour. And at the last Sir Launcelot smote Sir\nCarados such a buffet upon the helm that it pierced his brain-pan. So\nthen Sir Launcelot took Sir Carados by the collar and pulled him under\nhis horse\u2019s feet, and then he alighted and pulled off his helm and\nstruck off his head. And then Sir Launcelot unbound Sir Gawaine. So\nthis same tale was told to Sir Galahad and to Sir Tristram:\u2014here may ye\nhear the nobleness that followeth Sir Launcelot. Alas, said Sir\nTristram, an I had not this message in hand with this fair lady, truly\nI would never stint or I had found Sir Launcelot. Then Sir Tristram and\nLa Beale Isoud went to the sea and came into Cornwall, and there all\nthe barons met them.\nCHAPTER XXIX. Of the wedding of King Mark to La Beale Isoud, and of\nBragwaine her maid, and of Palamides.\nAnd anon they were richly wedded with great noblesse. But ever, as the\nFrench book saith, Sir Tristram and La Beale Isoud loved ever together.\nThen was there great jousts and great tourneying, and many lords and\nladies were at that feast, and Sir Tristram was most praised of all\nother. Thus dured the feast long, and after the feast was done, within\na little while after, by the assent of two ladies that were with Queen\nIsoud, they ordained for hate and envy for to destroy Dame Bragwaine,\nthat was maiden and lady unto La Beale Isoud; and she was sent into the\nforest for to fetch herbs, and there she was met, and bound feet and\nhand to a tree, and so she was bounden three days. And by fortune, Sir\nPalamides found Dame Bragwaine, and there he delivered her from the\ndeath, and brought her to a nunnery there beside, for to be recovered.\nWhen Isoud the queen missed her maiden, wit ye well she was right heavy\nas ever was any queen, for of all earthly women she loved her best: the\ncause was for she came with her out of her country. And so upon a day\nQueen Isoud walked into the forest to put away her thoughts, and there\nshe went herself unto a well and made great moan. And suddenly there\ncame Palamides to her, and had heard all her complaint, and said: Madam\nIsoud, an ye will grant me my boon, I shall bring to you Dame Bragwaine\nsafe and sound. And the queen was so glad of his proffer that suddenly\nunadvised she granted all his asking. Well, Madam, said Palamides, I\ntrust to your promise, and if ye will abide here half an hour I shall\nbring her to you. I shall abide you, said La Beale Isoud. And Sir\nPalamides rode forth his way to that nunnery, and lightly he came again\nwith Dame Bragwaine; but by her good will she would not have come\nagain, because for love of the queen she stood in adventure of her\nlife. Notwithstanding, half against her will, she went with Sir\nPalamides unto the queen. And when the queen saw her she was passing\nglad. Now, Madam, said Palamides, remember upon your promise, for I\nhave fulfilled my promise. Sir Palamides, said the queen, I wot not\nwhat is your desire, but I will that ye wit, howbeit I promised you\nlargely, I thought none evil, nor I warn you none evil will I do.\nMadam, said Sir Palamides, as at this time, ye shall not know my\ndesire, but before my lord your husband there shall ye know that I will\nhave my desire that ye have promised me. And therewith the queen\ndeparted, and rode home to the king, and Sir Palamides rode after her.\nAnd when Sir Palamides came before the king, he said: Sir King, I\nrequire you as ye be a righteous king, that ye will judge me the right.\nTell me your cause, said the king, and ye shall have right.\nCHAPTER XXX. How Palamides demanded Queen Isoud, and how Lambegus rode\nafter to rescue her, and of the escape of Isoud.\nSir, said Palamides, I promised your Queen Isoud to bring again Dame\nBragwaine that she had lost, upon this covenant, that she should grant\nme a boon that I would ask, and without grudging, outher advisement,\nshe granted me. What say ye, my lady? said the king. It is as he saith,\nso God me help, said the queen; to say thee sooth I promised him his\nasking for love and joy that I had to see her. Well, Madam, said the\nking, and if ye were hasty to grant him what boon he would ask, I will\nwell that ye perform your promise. Then, said Palamides, I will that ye\nwit that I will have your queen to lead her and govern her whereas me\nlist. Therewith the king stood still, and bethought him of Sir\nTristram, and deemed that he would rescue her. And then hastily the\nking answered: Take her with the adventures that shall fall of it, for\nas I suppose thou wilt not enjoy her no while. As for that, said\nPalamides, I dare right well abide the adventure. And so, to make short\ntale, Sir Palamides took her by the hand and said: Madam, grudge not to\ngo with me, for I desire nothing but your own promise. As for that,\nsaid the queen, I fear not greatly to go with thee, howbeit thou hast\nme at advantage upon my promise, for I doubt not I shall be\nworshipfully rescued from thee. As for that, said Sir Palamides, be it\nas it be may. So Queen Isoud was set behind Palamides, and rode his\nway.\nAnon the king sent after Sir Tristram, but in no wise he could be\nfound, for he was in the forest a-hunting; for that was always his\ncustom, but if he used arms, to chase and to hunt in the forests. Alas,\nsaid the king, now I am shamed for ever, that by mine own assent my\nlady and my queen shall be devoured. Then came forth a knight, his name\nwas Lambegus, and he was a knight of Sir Tristram. My lord, said this\nknight, sith ye have trust in my lord, Sir Tristram, wit ye well for\nhis sake I will ride after your queen and rescue her, or else I shall\nbe beaten. Gramercy, said the king, as I live, Sir Lambegus, I shall\ndeserve it. And then Sir Lambegus armed him, and rode after as fast as\nhe might. And then within a while he overtook Sir Palamides. And then\nSir Palamides left the queen. What art thou, said Palamides, art thou\nTristram? Nay, he said, I am his servant, and my name is Sir Lambegus.\nThat me repenteth, said Palamides. I had liefer thou hadst been Sir\nTristram. I believe you well, said Lambegus, but when thou meetest with\nSir Tristram thou shalt have thy hands full. And then they hurtled\ntogether and all to-brast their spears, and then they pulled out their\nswords, and hewed on helms and hauberks. At the last Sir Palamides gave\nSir Lambegus such a wound that he fell down like a dead knight to the\nearth.\nThen he looked after La Beale Isoud, and then she was gone he nist\nwhere. Wit ye well Sir Palamides was never so heavy. So the queen ran\ninto the forest, and there she found a well, and therein she had\nthought to have drowned herself. And as good fortune would, there came\na knight to her that had a castle thereby, his name was Sir Adtherp.\nAnd when he found the queen in that mischief he rescued her, and\nbrought her to his castle. And when he wist what she was he armed him,\nand took his horse, and said he would be avenged upon Palamides; and so\nhe rode on till he met with him, and there Sir Palamides wounded him\nsore, and by force he made him to tell him the cause why he did battle\nwith him, and how he had led the queen unto his castle. Now bring me\nthere, said Palamides, or thou shalt die of my hands. Sir, said Sir\nAdtherp, I am so wounded I may not follow, but ride you this way and it\nshall bring you into my castle, and there within is the queen. Then Sir\nPalamides rode still till he came to the castle. And at a window La\nBeale Isoud saw Sir Palamides; then she made the gates to be shut\nstrongly. And when he saw he might not come within the castle, he put\noff his bridle and his saddle, and put his horse to pasture, and set\nhimself down at the gate like a man that was out of his wit that recked\nnot of himself.\nCHAPTER XXXI. How Sir Tristram rode after Palamides, and how he found\nhim and fought with him, and by the means of Isoud the battle ceased.\nNow turn we unto Sir Tristram, that when he was come home and wist La\nBeale Isoud was gone with Sir Palamides, wit ye well he was wroth out\nof measure. Alas, said Sir Tristram, I am this day shamed. Then he\ncried to Gouvernail his man: Haste thee that I were armed and on\nhorseback, for well I wot Lambegus hath no might nor strength to\nwithstand Sir Palamides: alas that I have not been in his stead! So\nanon as he was armed and horsed Sir Tristram and Gouvernail rode after\ninto the forest, and within a while he found his knight Lambegus almost\nwounded to the death; and Sir Tristram bare him to a forester, and\ncharged him to keep him well. And then he rode forth, and there he\nfound Sir Adtherp sore wounded, and he told him how the queen would\nhave drowned herself had he not been, and how for her sake and love he\nhad taken upon him to do battle with Sir Palamides. Where is my lady?\nsaid Sir Tristram. Sir, said the knight, she is sure enough within my\ncastle, an she can hold her within it. Gramercy, said Sir Tristram, of\nthy great goodness. And so he rode till he came nigh to that castle;\nand then Sir Tristram saw where Sir Palamides sat at the gate sleeping,\nand his horse pastured fast afore him. Now go thou, Gouvernail, said\nSir Tristram, and bid him awake, and make him ready. So Gouvernail rode\nunto him and said: Sir Palamides, arise, and take to thee thine\nharness. But he was in such a study he heard not what Gouvernail said.\nSo Gouvernail came again and told Sir Tristram he slept, or else he was\nmad. Go thou again, said Sir Tristram, and bid him arise, and tell him\nthat I am here, his mortal foe. So Gouvernail rode again and put upon\nhim the butt of his spear, and said: Sir Palamides, make thee ready,\nfor wit ye well Sir Tristram hoveth yonder, and sendeth thee word he is\nthy mortal foe. And therewithal Sir Palamides arose stilly, without\nwords, and gat his horse, and saddled him and bridled him, and lightly\nhe leapt upon, and gat his spear in his hand, and either feutred their\nspears and hurtled fast together; and there Tristram smote down Sir\nPalamides over his horse\u2019s tail. Then lightly Sir Palamides put his\nshield afore him and drew his sword. And there began strong battle on\nboth parts, for both they fought for the love of one lady, and ever she\nlay on the walls and beheld them how they fought out of measure, and\neither were wounded passing sore, but Palamides was much sorer wounded.\nThus they fought tracing and traversing more than two hours, that\nwell-nigh for dole and sorrow La Beale Isoud swooned. Alas, she said,\nthat one I loved and yet do, and the other I love not, yet it were\ngreat pity that I should see Sir Palamides slain; for well I know by\nthat time the end be done Sir Palamides is but a dead knight: because\nhe is not christened I would be loath that he should die a Saracen. And\ntherewithal she came down and besought Sir Tristram to fight no more.\nAh, madam, said he, what mean you, will ye have me shamed? Well ye know\nI will be ruled by you. I will not your dishonour, said La Beale Isoud,\nbut I would that ye would for my sake spare this unhappy Saracen\nPalamides. Madam, said Sir Tristram, I will leave fighting at this time\nfor your sake. Then she said to Sir Palamides: This shall be your\ncharge, that thou shalt go out of this country while I am therein. I\nwill obey your commandment, said Sir Palamides, the which is sore\nagainst my will. Then take thy way, said La Beale Isoud, unto the court\nof King Arthur, and there recommend me unto Queen Guenever, and tell\nher that I send her word that there be within this land but four\nlovers, that is, Sir Launcelot du Lake and Queen Guenever, and Sir\nTristram de Liones and Queen Isoud.\nCHAPTER XXXII. How Sir Tristram brought Queen Isoud home, and of the\ndebate of King Mark and Sir Tristram.\nAnd so Sir Palamides departed with great heaviness. And Sir Tristram\ntook the queen and brought her again to King Mark, and then was there\nmade great joy of her home-coming. Who was cherished but Sir Tristram!\nThen Sir Tristram let fetch Sir Lambegus, his knight, from the\nforester\u2019s house, and it was long or he was whole, but at the last he\nwas well recovered. Thus they lived with joy and play a long while. But\never Sir Andred, that was nigh cousin to Sir Tristram, lay in a watch\nto wait betwixt Sir Tristram and La Beale Isoud, for to take them and\nslander them. So upon a day Sir Tristram talked with La Beale Isoud in\na window, and that espied Sir Andred, and told it to the King. Then\nKing Mark took a sword in his hand and came to Sir Tristram, and called\nhim false traitor, and would have stricken him. But Sir Tristram was\nnigh him, and ran under his sword, and took it out of his hand. And\nthen the King cried: Where are my knights and my men? I charge you slay\nthis traitor. But at that time there was not one would move for his\nwords. When Sir Tristram saw that there was not one would be against\nhim, he shook the sword to the king, and made countenance as though he\nwould have stricken him. And then King Mark fled, and Sir Tristram\nfollowed him, and smote upon him five or six strokes flatling on the\nneck, that he made him to fall upon the nose. And then Sir Tristram\nyede his way and armed him, and took his horse and his man, and so he\nrode into that forest.\nAnd there upon a day Sir Tristram met with two brethren that were\nknights with King Mark, and there he struck off the head of the one,\nand wounded the other to the death; and he made him to bear his\nbrother\u2019s head in his helm unto the king, and thirty more there he\nwounded. And when that knight came before the king to say his message,\nhe there died afore the king and the queen. Then King Mark called his\ncouncil unto him, and asked advice of his barons what was best to do\nwith Sir Tristram. Sir, said the barons, in especial Sir Dinas, the\nSeneschal, Sir, we will give you counsel for to send for Sir Tristram,\nfor we will that ye wit many men will hold with Sir Tristram an he were\nhard bestead. And sir, said Sir Dinas, ye shall understand that Sir\nTristram is called peerless and makeless of any Christian knight, and\nof his might and hardiness we knew none so good a knight, but if it be\nSir Launcelot du Lake. And if he depart from your court and go to King\nArthur\u2019s court, wit ye well he will get him such friends there that he\nwill not set by your malice. And therefore, sir, I counsel you to take\nhim to your grace. I will well, said the king, that he be sent for,\nthat we may be friends. Then the barons sent for Sir Tristram under a\nsafe conduct. And so when Sir Tristram came to the king he was welcome,\nand no rehearsal was made, and there was game and play. And then the\nking and the queen went a-hunting, and Sir Tristram.\nCHAPTER XXXIII. How Sir Lamorak jousted with thirty knights, and Sir\nTristram at the request of King Mark smote his horse down.\nThe king and the queen made their pavilions and their tents in that\nforest beside a river, and there was daily hunting and jousting, for\nthere were ever thirty knights ready to joust unto all them that came\nin at that time. And there by fortune came Sir Lamorak de Galis and Sir\nDriant; and there Sir Driant jousted right well, but at the last he had\na fall. Then Sir Lamorak proffered to joust. And when he began he fared\nso with the thirty knights that there was not one of them but that he\ngave him a fall, and some of them were sore hurt. I marvel, said King\nMark, what knight he is that doth such deeds of arms. Sir, said Sir\nTristram, I know him well for a noble knight as few now be living, and\nhis name is Sir Lamorak de Galis. It were great shame, said the king,\nthat he should go thus away, unless that some of you meet with him\nbetter. Sir, said Sir Tristram, meseemeth it were no worship for a\nnoble man to have ado with him: and for because at this time he hath\ndone over much for any mean knight living, therefore, as meseemeth, it\nwere great shame and villainy to tempt him any more at this time,\ninsomuch as he and his horse are weary both; for the deeds of arms that\nhe hath done this day, an they be well considered, it were enough for\nSir Launcelot du Lake. As for that, said King Mark, I require you, as\nye love me and my lady the queen, La Beale Isoud, take your arms and\njoust with Sir Lamorak de Galis. Sir, said Sir Tristram, ye bid me do a\nthing that is against knighthood, and well I can deem that I shall give\nhim a fall, for it is no mastery, for my horse and I be fresh both, and\nso is not his horse and he; and wit ye well that he will take it for\ngreat unkindness, for ever one good knight is loath to take another at\ndisadvantage; but because I will not displease you, as ye require me so\nwill I do, and obey your commandment.\nAnd so Sir Tristram armed him and took his horse, and put him forth,\nand there Sir Lamorak met him mightily, and what with the might of his\nown spear, and of Sir Tristram\u2019s spear, Sir Lamorak\u2019s horse fell to the\nearth, and he sitting in the saddle. Then anon as lightly as he might\nhe avoided the saddle and his horse, and put his shield afore him and\ndrew his sword. And then he bade Sir Tristram: Alight, thou knight, an\nthou durst. Nay, said Sir Tristram, I will no more have ado with thee,\nfor I have done to thee over much unto my dishonour and to thy worship.\nAs for that, said Sir Lamorak, I can thee no thank; since thou hast\nfor-jousted me on horseback I require thee and I beseech thee, an thou\nbe Sir Tristram, fight with me on foot. I will not so, said Sir\nTristram; and wit ye well my name is Sir Tristram de Liones, and well I\nknow ye be Sir Lamorak de Galis, and this that I have done to you was\nagainst my will, but I was required thereto; but to say that I will do\nat your request as at this time, I will have no more ado with you, for\nme shameth of that I have done. As for the shame, said Sir Lamorak, on\nthy part or on mine, bear thou it an thou wilt, for though a mare\u2019s son\nhath failed me, now a queen\u2019s son shall not fail thee; and therefore,\nan thou be such a knight as men call thee, I require thee, alight, and\nfight with me. Sir Lamorak, said Sir Tristram, I understand your heart\nis great, and cause why ye have, to say thee sooth; for it would grieve\nme an any knight should keep him fresh and then to strike down a weary\nknight, for that knight nor horse was never formed that alway might\nstand or endure. And therefore, said Sir Tristram, I will not have ado\nwith you, for me forthinketh of that I have done. As for that, said Sir\nLamorak, I shall quit you, an ever I see my time.\nCHAPTER XXXIV. How Sir Lamorak sent an horn to King Mark in despite of\nSir Tristram, and how Sir Tristram was driven into a chapel.\nSo he departed from him with Sir Driant, and by the way they met with a\nknight that was sent from Morgan le Fay unto King Arthur; and this\nknight had a fair horn harnessed with gold, and the horn had such a\nvirtue that there might no lady nor gentlewoman drink of that horn but\nif she were true to her husband, and if she were false she should spill\nall the drink, and if she were true to her lord she might drink\npeaceable. And because of the Queen Guenever, and in the despite of Sir\nLauncelot, this horn was sent unto King Arthur; and by force Sir\nLamorak made that knight to tell all the cause why he bare that horn.\nNow shalt thou bear this horn, said Lamorak, unto King Mark, or else\nchoose thou to die for it; for I tell thee plainly, in despite and\nreproof of Sir Tristram thou shalt bear that horn unto King Mark, his\nuncle, and say thou to him that I sent it him for to assay his lady,\nand if she be true to him he shall prove her. So the knight went his\nway unto King Mark, and brought him that rich horn, and said that Sir\nLamorak sent it him, and thereto he told him the virtue of that horn.\nThen the king made Queen Isoud to drink thereof, and an hundred ladies,\nand there were but four ladies of all those that drank clean. Alas,\nsaid King Mark, this is a great despite, and sware a great oath that\nshe should be burnt and the other ladies.\nThen the barons gathered them together, and said plainly they would not\nhave those ladies burnt for an horn made by sorcery, that came from as\nfalse a sorceress and witch as then was living. For that horn did never\ngood, but caused strife and debate, and always in her days she had been\nan enemy to all true lovers. So there were many knights made their\navow, an ever they met with Morgan le Fay, that they would show her\nshort courtesy. Also Sir Tristram was passing wroth that Sir Lamorak\nsent that horn unto King Mark, for well he knew that it was done in the\ndespite of him. And therefore he thought to quite Sir Lamorak.\nThen Sir Tristram used daily and nightly to go to Queen Isoud when he\nmight, and ever Sir Andred his cousin watched him night and day for to\ntake him with La Beale Isoud. And so upon a night Sir Andred espied the\nhour and the time when Sir Tristram went to his lady. Then Sir Andred\ngat unto him twelve knights, and at midnight he set upon Sir Tristram\nsecretly and suddenly and there Sir Tristram was taken naked abed with\nLa Beale Isoud, and then was he bound hand and foot, and so was he kept\nuntil day. And then by the assent of King Mark, and of Sir Andred, and\nof some of the barons, Sir Tristram was led unto a chapel that stood\nupon the sea rocks, there for to take his judgment: and so he was led\nbounden with forty knights. And when Sir Tristram saw that there was\nnone other boot but needs that he must die, then said he: Fair lords,\nremember what I have done for the country of Cornwall, and in what\njeopardy I have been in for the weal of you all; for when I fought for\nthe truage of Cornwall with Sir Marhaus, the good knight, I was\npromised for to be better rewarded, when ye all refused to take the\nbattle; therefore, as ye be good gentle knights, see me not thus\nshamefully to die, for it is shame to all knighthood thus to see me\ndie; for I dare say, said Sir Tristram, that I never met with no knight\nbut I was as good as he, or better. Fie upon thee, said Sir Andred,\nfalse traitor that thou art, with thine avaunting; for all thy boast\nthou shalt die this day. O Andred, Andred, said Sir Tristram, thou\nshouldst be my kinsman, and now thou art to me full unfriendly, but an\nthere were no more but thou and I, thou wouldst not put me to death.\nNo! said Sir Andred, and therewith he drew his sword, and would have\nslain him.\nWhen Sir Tristram saw him make such countenance he looked upon both his\nhands that were fast bounden unto two knights, and suddenly he pulled\nthem both to him, and unwrast his hands, and then he leapt unto his\ncousin, Sir Andred, and wrested his sword out of his hands; then he\nsmote Sir Andred that he fell to the earth, and so Sir Tristram fought\ntill that he had killed ten knights. So then Sir Tristram gat the\nchapel and kept it mightily. Then the cry was great, and the people\ndrew fast unto Sir Andred, mo than an hundred. When Sir Tristram saw\nthe people draw unto him, he remembered he was naked, and sperd fast\nthe chapel door, and brake the bars of a window, and so he leapt out\nand fell upon the crags in the sea. And so at that time Sir Andred nor\nnone of his fellows might get to him, at that time.\nCHAPTER XXXV. How Sir Tristram was holpen by his men, and of Queen\nIsoud which was put in a lazar-cote, and how Tristram was hurt.\nSo when they were departed, Gouvernail, and Sir Lambegus, and Sir\nSentraille de Lushon, that were Sir Tristram\u2019s men, sought their\nmaster. When they heard he was escaped then they were passing glad; and\non the rocks they found him, and with towels they pulled him up. And\nthen Sir Tristram asked them where was La Beale Isoud, for he weened\nshe had been had away of Andred\u2019s people. Sir, said Gouvernail, she is\nput in a lazar-cote. Alas, said Sir Tristram, this is a full ungoodly\nplace for such a fair lady, and if I may she shall not be long there.\nAnd so he took his men and went thereas was La Beale Isoud, and fetched\nher away, and brought her into a forest to a fair manor, and Sir\nTristram there abode with her. So the good knight bade his men go from\nhim: For at this time I may not help you. So they departed all save\nGouvernail. And so upon a day Sir Tristram yede into the forest for to\ndisport him, and then it happened that there he fell sleep; and there\ncame a man that Sir Tristram aforehand had slain his brother, and when\nthis man had found him he shot him through the shoulder with an arrow,\nand Sir Tristram leapt up and killed that man. And in the meantime it\nwas told King Mark how Sir Tristram and La Beale Isoud were in that\nsame manor, and as soon as ever he might thither he came with many\nknights to slay Sir Tristram. And when he came there he found him gone;\nand there he took La Beale Isoud home with him, and kept her strait\nthat by no means never she might wit nor send unto Tristram, nor he\nunto her. And then when Sir Tristram came toward the old manor he found\nthe track of many horses, and thereby he wist his lady was gone. And\nthen Sir Tristram took great sorrow, and endured with great pain long\ntime, for the arrow that he was hurt withal was envenomed.\nThen by the mean of La Beale Isoud she told a lady that was cousin unto\nDame Bragwaine, and she came to Sir Tristram, and told him that he\nmight not be whole by no means. For thy lady, La Beale Isoud, may not\nhelp thee, therefore she biddeth you haste into Brittany to King Howel,\nand there ye shall find his daughter, Isoud la Blanche Mains, and she\nshall help thee. Then Sir Tristram and Gouvernail gat them shipping,\nand so sailed into Brittany. And when King Howel wist that it was Sir\nTristram he was full glad of him. Sir, he said, I am come into this\ncountry to have help of your daughter, for it is told me that there is\nnone other may heal me but she; and so within a while she healed him.\nCHAPTER XXXVI. How Sir Tristram served in war King Howel of Brittany,\nand slew his adversary in the field.\nThere was an earl that hight Grip, and this earl made great war upon\nthe king, and put the king to the worse, and besieged him. And on a\ntime Sir Kehydius, that was son to King Howel, as he issued out he was\nsore wounded, nigh to the death. Then Gouvernail went to the king and\nsaid: Sir, I counsel you to desire my lord, Sir Tristram, as in your\nneed to help you. I will do by your counsel, said the king. And so he\nyede unto Sir Tristram, and prayed him in his wars to help him: For my\nson, Sir Kehydius, may not go into the field. Sir, said Sir Tristram, I\nwill go to the field and do what I may. Then Sir Tristram issued out of\nthe town with such fellowship as he might make, and did such deeds that\nall Brittany spake of him. And then, at the last, by great might and\nforce, he slew the Earl Grip with his own hands, and more than an\nhundred knights he slew that day. And then Sir Tristram was received\nworshipfully with procession. Then King Howel embraced him in his arms,\nand said: Sir Tristram, all my kingdom I will resign to thee. God\ndefend, said Sir Tristram, for I am beholden unto you for your\ndaughter\u2019s sake to do for you.\nThen by the great means of King Howel and Kehydius his son, by great\nproffers, there grew great love betwixt Isoud and Sir Tristram, for\nthat lady was both good and fair, and a woman of noble blood and fame.\nAnd for because Sir Tristram had such cheer and riches, and all other\npleasaunce that he had, almost he had forsaken La Beale Isoud. And so\nupon a time Sir Tristram agreed to wed Isoud la Blanche Mains. And at\nthe last they were wedded, and solemnly held their marriage. And so\nwhen they were abed both Sir Tristram remembered him of his old lady La\nBeale Isoud. And then he took such a thought suddenly that he was all\ndismayed, and other cheer made he none but with clipping and kissing;\nas for other fleshly lusts Sir Tristram never thought nor had ado with\nher: such mention maketh the French book; also it maketh mention that\nthe lady weened there had been no pleasure but kissing and clipping.\nAnd in the meantime there was a knight in Brittany, his name was\nSuppinabiles, and he came over the sea into England, and then he came\ninto the court of King Arthur, and there he met with Sir Launcelot du\nLake, and told him of the marriage of Sir Tristram. Then said Sir\nLauncelot: Fie upon him, untrue knight to his lady, that so noble a\nknight as Sir Tristram is should be found to his first lady false, La\nBeale Isoud, Queen of Cornwall; but say ye him this, said Sir\nLauncelot, that of all knights in the world I loved him most, and had\nmost joy of him, and all was for his noble deeds; and let him wit the\nlove between him and me is done for ever, and that I give him warning\nfrom this day forth as his mortal enemy.\nCHAPTER XXXVII. How Sir Suppinabiles told Sir Tristram how he was\ndefamed in the court of King Arthur, and of Sir Lamorak.\nThen departed Sir Suppinabiles unto Brittany again, and there he found\nSir Tristram, and told him that he had been in King Arthur\u2019s court.\nThen said Sir Tristram: Heard ye anything of me? So God me help, said\nSir Suppinabiles, there I heard Sir Launcelot speak of you great shame,\nand that ye be a false knight to your lady and he bade me do you to wit\nthat he will be your mortal enemy in every place where he may meet you.\nThat me repenteth, said Tristram, for of all knights I loved to be in\nhis fellowship. So Sir Tristram made great moan and was ashamed that\nnoble knights should defame him for the sake of his lady. And in this\nmeanwhile La Beale Isoud made a letter unto Queen Guenever, complaining\nher of the untruth of Sir Tristram, and how he had wedded the king\u2019s\ndaughter of Brittany. Queen Guenever sent her another letter, and bade\nher be of good cheer, for she should have joy after sorrow, for Sir\nTristram was so noble a knight called, that by crafts of sorcery ladies\nwould make such noble men to wed them. But in the end, Queen Guenever\nsaid, it shall be thus, that he shall hate her, and love you better\nthan ever he did to-fore.\nSo leave we Sir Tristram in Brittany, and speak we of Sir Lamorak de\nGalis, that as he sailed his ship fell on a rock and perished all, save\nSir Lamorak and his squire; and there he swam mightily, and fishers of\nthe Isle of Servage took him up, and his squire was drowned, and the\nshipmen had great labour to save Sir Lamorak\u2019s life, for all the\ncomfort that they could do.\nAnd the lord of that isle, hight Sir Nabon le Noire, a great mighty\ngiant. And this Sir Nabon hated all the knights of King Arthur\u2019s, and\nin no wise he would do them favour. And these fishers told Sir Lamorak\nall the guise of Sir Nabon; how there came never knight of King\nArthur\u2019s but he destroyed him. And at the last battle that he did was\nslain Sir Nanowne le Petite, the which he put to a shameful death in\ndespite of King Arthur, for he was drawn limb-meal. That forthinketh\nme, said Sir Lamorak, for that knight\u2019s death, for he was my cousin;\nand if I were at mine ease as well as ever I was, I would revenge his\ndeath. Peace, said the fishers, and make here no words, for or ever ye\ndepart from hence Sir Nabon must know that ye have been here, or else\nwe should die for your sake. So that I be whole, said Lamorak, of my\ndisease that I have taken in the sea, I will that ye tell him that I am\na knight of King Arthur\u2019s, for I was never afeard to reneye my lord.\nCHAPTER XXXVIII. How Sir Tristram and his wife arrived in Wales, and\nhow he met there with Sir Lamorak.\nNow turn we unto Sir Tristram, that upon a day he took a little barget,\nand his wife Isoud la Blanche Mains, with Sir Kehydius her brother, to\nplay them in the coasts. And when they were from the land, there was a\nwind drove them in to the coast of Wales upon this Isle of Servage,\nwhereas was Sir Lamorak, and there the barget all to-rove; and there\nDame Isoud was hurt; and as well as they might they gat into the\nforest, and there by a well he saw Segwarides and a damosel. And then\neither saluted other. Sir, said Segwarides, I know you for Sir Tristram\nde Liones, the man in the world that I have most cause to hate, because\nye departed the love between me and my wife; but as for that, said Sir\nSegwarides, I will never hate a noble knight for a light lady; and\ntherefore, I pray you, be my friend, and I will be yours unto my power;\nfor wit ye well ye are hard bestead in this valley, and we shall have\nenough to do either of us to succour other. And then Sir Segwarides\nbrought Sir Tristram to a lady thereby that was born in Cornwall, and\nshe told him all the perils of that valley, and how there came never\nknight there but he were taken prisoner or slain. Wit you well, fair\nlady, said Sir Tristram, that I slew Sir Marhaus and delivered Cornwall\nfrom the truage of Ireland, and I am he that delivered the King of\nIreland from Sir Blamore de Ganis, and I am he that beat Sir Palamides;\nand wit ye well I am Sir Tristram de Liones, that by the grace of God\nshall deliver this woful Isle of Servage. So Sir Tristram was well\neased.\nThen one told him there was a knight of King Arthur\u2019s that was wrecked\non the rocks. What is his name? said Sir Tristram. We wot not, said the\nfishers, but he keepeth it no counsel but that he is a knight of King\nArthur\u2019s, and by the mighty lord of this isle he setteth nought. I pray\nyou, said Sir Tristram, an ye may, bring him hither that I may see him,\nand if he be any of the knights of Arthur\u2019s I shall know him. Then the\nlady prayed the fishers to bring him to her place. So on the morrow\nthey brought him thither in a fisher\u2019s raiment; and as soon as Sir\nTristram saw him he smiled upon him and knew him well, but he knew not\nSir Tristram. Fair sir, said Sir Tristram, meseemeth by your cheer ye\nhave been diseased but late, and also methinketh I should know you\nheretofore. I will well, said Sir Lamorak, that ye have seen me and met\nwith me. Fair sir, said Sir Tristram, tell me your name. Upon a\ncovenant I will tell you, said Sir Lamorak, that is, that ye will tell\nme whether ye be lord of this island or no, that is called Nabon le\nNoire. Forsooth, said Sir Tristram, I am not he, nor I hold not of him;\nI am his foe as well as ye be, and so shall I be found or I depart out\nof this isle. Well, said Sir Lamorak, since ye have said so largely\nunto me, my name is Sir Lamorak de Galis, son unto King Pellinore.\nForsooth, I trow well, said Sir Tristram, for an ye said other I know\nthe contrary. What are ye, said Sir Lamorak, that knoweth me? I am Sir\nTristram de Liones. Ah, sir, remember ye not of the fall ye did give me\nonce, and after ye refused me to fight on foot. That was not for fear I\nhad of you, said Sir Tristram, but me shamed at that time to have more\nado with you, for meseemed ye had enough; but, Sir Lamorak, for my\nkindness many ladies ye put to a reproof when ye sent the horn from\nMorgan le Fay to King Mark, whereas ye did this in despite of me. Well,\nsaid he, an it were to do again, so would I do, for I had liefer strife\nand debate fell in King Mark\u2019s court rather than Arthur\u2019s court, for\nthe honour of both courts be not alike. As to that, said Sir Tristram,\nI know well; but that that was done it was for despite of me, but all\nyour malice, I thank God, hurt not greatly. Therefore, said Sir\nTristram, ye shall leave all your malice, and so will I, and let us\nassay how we may win worship between you and me upon this giant Sir\nNabon le Noire that is lord of this island, to destroy him. Sir, said\nSir Lamorak, now I understand your knighthood, it may not be false that\nall men say, for of your bounty, noblesse, and worship, of all knights\nye are peerless, and for your courtesy and gentleness I showed you\nungentleness, and that now me repenteth.\nCHAPTER XXXIX. How Sir Tristram fought with Sir Nabon, and overcame\nhim, and made Sir Segwarides lord of the isle.\nIn the meantime there came word that Sir Nabon had made a cry that all\nthe people of that isle should be at his castle the fifth day after.\nAnd the same day the son of Nabon should be made knight, and all the\nknights of that valley and thereabout should be there to joust, and all\nthose of the realm of Logris should be there to joust with them of\nNorth Wales: and thither came five hundred knights, and they of the\ncountry brought thither Sir Lamorak, and Sir Tristram, and Sir\nKehydius, and Sir Segwarides, for they durst none otherwise do; and\nthen Sir Nabon lent Sir Lamorak horse and armour at Sir Lamorak\u2019s\ndesire, and Sir Lamorak jousted and did such deeds of arms that Nabon\nand all the people said there was never knight that ever they saw do\nsuch deeds of arms; for, as the French book saith, he for-jousted all\nthat were there, for the most part of five hundred knights, that none\nabode him in his saddle.\nThen Sir Nabon proffered to play with him his play: For I saw never no\nknight do so much upon a day. I will well, said Sir Lamorak, play as I\nmay, but I am weary and sore bruised. And there either gat a spear, but\nNabon would not encounter with Sir Lamorak, but smote his horse in the\nforehead, and so slew him; and then Sir Lamorak yede on foot, and\nturned his shield and drew his sword, and there began strong battle on\nfoot. But Sir Lamorak was so sore bruised and short breathed, that he\ntraced and traversed somewhat aback. Fair fellow, said Sir Nabon, hold\nthy hand and I shall show thee more courtesy than ever I showed knight,\nbecause I have seen this day thy noble knighthood, and therefore stand\nthou by, and I will wit whether any of thy fellows will have ado with\nme. Then when Sir Tristram heard that, he stepped forth and said:\nNabon, lend me horse and sure armour, and I will have ado with thee.\nWell, fellow, said Sir Nabon, go thou to yonder pavilion, and arm thee\nof the best thou findest there, and I shall play a marvellous play with\nthee. Then said Sir Tristram: Look ye play well, or else peradventure I\nshall learn you a new play. That is well said, fellow, said Sir Nabon.\nSo when Sir Tristram was armed as him liked best, and well shielded and\nsworded, he dressed to him on foot; for well he knew that Sir Nabon\nwould not abide a stroke with a spear, therefore he would slay all\nknights\u2019 horses. Now, fair fellow, Sir Nabon, let us play. So then they\nfought long on foot, tracing and traversing, smiting and foining long\nwithout any rest. At the last Sir Nabon prayed him to tell him his\nname. Sir Nabon, I tell thee my name is Sir Tristram de Liones, a\nknight of Cornwall under King Mark. Thou art welcome, said Sir Nabon,\nfor of all knights I have most desired to fight with thee or with Sir\nLauncelot.\nSo then they went eagerly together, and Sir Tristram slew Sir Nabon,\nand so forthwith he leapt to his son, and struck off his head; and then\nall the country said they would hold of Sir Tristram. Nay, said Sir\nTristram, I will not so; here is a worshipful knight, Sir Lamorak de\nGalis, that for me he shall be lord of this country, for he hath done\nhere great deeds of arms. Nay, said Sir Lamorak, I will not be lord of\nthis country, for I have not deserved it as well as ye, therefore give\nye it where ye will, for I will none have. Well, said Sir Tristram,\nsince ye nor I will not have it, let us give it to him that hath not so\nwell deserved it. Do as ye list, said Segwarides, for the gift is\nyours, for I will none have an I had deserved it. So was it given to\nSegwarides, whereof he thanked them; and so was he lord, and\nworshipfully he did govern it. And then Sir Segwarides delivered all\nprisoners, and set good governance in that valley; and so he returned\ninto Cornwall, and told King Mark and La Beale Isoud how Sir Tristram\nhad advanced him to the Isle of Servage, and there he proclaimed in all\nCornwall of all the adventures of these two knights, so was it openly\nknown. But full woe was La Beale Isoud when she heard tell that Sir\nTristram was wedded to Isoud la Blanche Mains.\nCHAPTER XL. How Sir Lamorak departed from Sir Tristram, and how he met\nwith Sir Frol, and after with Sir Launcelot.\nSo turn we unto Sir Lamorak, that rode toward Arthur\u2019s court, and Sir\nTristram\u2019s wife and Kehydius took a vessel and sailed into Brittany,\nunto King Howel, where he was welcome. And when he heard of these\nadventures they marvelled of his noble deeds. Now turn we unto Sir\nLamorak, that when he was departed from Sir Tristram he rode out of the\nforest, till he came to an hermitage. When the hermit saw him, he asked\nhim from whence he came. Sir, said Sir Lamorak, I come from this\nvalley. Sir, said the hermit: thereof I marvel. For this twenty winter\nI saw never no knight pass this country but he was either slain or\nvillainously wounded, or pass as a poor prisoner. Those ill customs,\nsaid Sir Lamorak, are fordone, for Sir Tristram slew your lord, Sir\nNabon, and his son. Then was the hermit glad, and all his brethren, for\nhe said there was never such a tyrant among Christian men. And\ntherefore, said the hermit, this valley and franchise we will hold of\nSir Tristram.\nSo on the morrow Sir Lamorak departed; and as he rode he saw four\nknights fight against one, and that one knight defended him well, but\nat the last the four knights had him down. And then Sir Lamorak went\nbetwixt them, and asked them why they would slay that one knight, and\nsaid it was shame, four against one. Thou shalt well wit, said the four\nknights, that he is false. That is your tale, said Sir Lamorak, and\nwhen I hear him also speak, I will say as ye say. Then said Lamorak:\nAh, knight, can ye not excuse you, but that ye are a false knight. Sir,\nsaid he, yet can I excuse me both with my word and with my hands, that\nI will make good upon one of the best of them, my body to his body.\nThen spake they all at once: We will not jeopardy our bodies as for\nthee. But wit thou well, they said, an King Arthur were here himself,\nit should not lie in his power to save his life. That is too much said,\nsaid Sir Lamorak, but many speak behind a man more than they will say\nto his face; and because of your words ye shall understand that I am\none of the simplest of King Arthur\u2019s court; in the worship of my lord\nnow do your best, and in despite of you I shall rescue him. And then\nthey lashed all at once to Sir Lamorak, but anon at two strokes Sir\nLamorak had slain two of them, and then the other two fled. So then Sir\nLamorak turned again to that knight, and asked him his name. Sir, he\nsaid, my name is Sir Frol of the Out Isles. Then he rode with Sir\nLamorak and bare him company.\nAnd as they rode by the way they saw a seemly knight riding against\nthem, and all in white. Ah, said Frol, yonder knight jousted late with\nme and smote me down, therefore I will joust with him. Ye shall not do\nso, said Sir Lamorak, by my counsel, an ye will tell me your quarrel,\nwhether ye jousted at his request, or he at yours. Nay, said Sir Frol,\nI jousted with him at my request. Sir, said Lamorak, then will I\ncounsel you deal no more with him, for meseemeth by his countenance he\nshould be a noble knight, and no japer; for methinketh he should be of\nthe Table Round. Therefore I will not spare, said Sir Frol. And then he\ncried and said: Sir knight, make thee ready to joust. That needeth not,\nsaid the White Knight, for I have no lust to joust with thee; but yet\nthey feutred their spears, and the White Knight overthrew Sir Frol, and\nthen he rode his way a soft pace. Then Sir Lamorak rode after him, and\nprayed him to tell him his name: For meseemeth ye should be of the\nfellowship of the Round Table. Upon a covenant, said he, I will tell\nyou my name, so that ye will not discover my name, and also that ye\nwill tell me yours. Then, said he, my name is Sir Lamorak de Galis. And\nmy name is Sir Launcelot du Lake. Then they put up their swords, and\nkissed heartily together, and either made great joy of other. Sir, said\nSir Lamorak, an it please you I will do you service. God defend, said\nLauncelot, that any of so noble a blood as ye be should do me service.\nThen he said: More, I am in a quest that I must do myself alone. Now\nGod speed you, said Sir Lamorak, and so they departed. Then Sir Lamorak\ncame to Sir Frol and horsed him again. What knight is that? said Sir\nFrol. Sir, he said, it is not for you to know, nor it is no point of my\ncharge. Ye are the more uncourteous, said Sir Frol, and therefore I\nwill depart from you. Ye may do as ye list, said Sir Lamorak, and yet\nby my company ye have saved the fairest flower of your garland; so they\ndeparted.\nCHAPTER XLI. How Sir Lamorak slew Sir Frol, and of the courteous\nfighting with Sir Belliance his brother.\nThen within two or three days Sir Lamorak found a knight at a well\nsleeping, and his lady sat with him and waked. Right so came Sir\nGawaine and took the knight\u2019s lady, and set her up behind his squire.\nSo Sir Lamorak rode after Sir Gawaine, and said: Sir Gawaine, turn\nagain. And then said Sir Gawaine: What will ye do with me? for I am\nnephew unto King Arthur. Sir, said he, for that cause I will spare you,\nelse that lady should abide with me, or else ye should joust with me.\nThen Sir Gawaine turned him and ran to him that ought the lady, with\nhis spear, but the knight with pure might smote down Sir Gawaine, and\ntook his lady with him. All this Sir Lamorak saw, and said to himself:\nBut I revenge my fellow he will say of me dishonour in King Arthur\u2019s\ncourt. Then Sir Lamorak returned and proffered that knight to joust.\nSir, said he, I am ready. And there they came together with all their\nmight, and there Sir Lamorak smote the knight through both sides that\nhe fell to the earth dead.\nThen that lady rode to that knight\u2019s brother that hight Belliance le\nOrgulus, that dwelt fast thereby, and then she told him how his brother\nwas slain. Alas, said he, I will be revenged. And so he horsed him, and\narmed him, and within a while he overtook Sir Lamorak, and bade him:\nTurn and leave that lady, for thou and I must play a new play; for thou\nhast slain my brother Sir Frol, that was a better knight than ever wert\nthou. It might well be, said Sir Lamorak, but this day in the field I\nwas found the better. So they rode together, and unhorsed other, and\nturned their shields, and drew their swords, and fought mightily as\nnoble knights proved, by the space of two hours. So then Sir Belliance\nprayed him to tell him his name. Sir, said he, my name is Sir Lamorak\nde Galis. Ah, said Sir Belliance, thou art the man in the world that I\nmost hate, for I slew my sons for thy sake, where I saved thy life, and\nnow thou hast slain my brother Sir Frol. Alas, how should I be accorded\nwith thee; therefore defend thee, for thou shalt die, there is none\nother remedy. Alas, said Sir Lamorak, full well me ought to know you,\nfor ye are the man that most have done for me. And therewithal Sir\nLamorak kneeled down, and besought him of grace. Arise, said Sir\nBelliance, or else thereas thou kneelest I shall slay thee. That shall\nnot need, said Sir Lamorak, for I will yield me unto you, not for fear\nof you, nor for your strength, but your goodness maketh me full loath\nto have ado with you; wherefore I require you for God\u2019s sake, and for\nthe honour of knighthood, forgive me all that I have offended unto you.\nAlas, said Belliance, leave thy kneeling, or else I shall slay thee\nwithout mercy.\nThen they yede again unto battle, and either wounded other, that all\nthe ground was bloody thereas they fought. And at the last Belliance\nwithdrew him aback and set him down softly upon a little hill, for he\nwas so faint for bleeding that he might not stand. Then Sir Lamorak\nthrew his shield upon his back, and asked him what cheer. Well, said\nSir Belliance. Ah, Sir, yet shall I show you favour in your mal-ease.\nAh, Knight Sir Belliance, said Sir Lamorak, thou art a fool, for an I\nhad had thee at such advantage as thou hast done me, I should slay\nthee; but thy gentleness is so good and so large, that I must needs\nforgive thee mine evil will. And then Sir Lamorak kneeled down, and\nunlaced first his umberere, and then his own, and then either kissed\nother with weeping tears. Then Sir Lamorak led Sir Belliance to an\nabbey fast by, and there Sir Lamorak would not depart from Belliance\ntill he was whole. And then they sware together that none of them\nshould never fight against other. So Sir Lamorak departed and went to\nthe court of King Arthur.\n Here leave we of Sir Lamorak and of Sir Tristram. And here beginneth\n the history of La Cote Male Taile.\nBOOK IX.\nCHAPTER I. How a young man came into the court of King Arthur, and how\nSir Kay called him in scorn La Cote Male Taile.\nAt the court of King Arthur there came a young man and bigly made, and\nhe was richly beseen: and he desired to be made knight of the king, but\nhis over-garment sat over-thwartly, howbeit it was rich cloth of gold.\nWhat is your name? said King Arthur. Sir, said he, my name is Breunor\nle Noire, and within short space ye shall know that I am of good kin.\nIt may well be, said Sir Kay, the Seneschal, but in mockage ye shall be\ncalled La Cote Male Taile, that is as much to say, the evil-shapen\ncoat. It is a great thing that thou askest, said the king; and for what\ncause wearest thou that rich coat? tell me, for I can well think for\nsome cause it is. Sir, he answered, I had a father, a noble knight, and\nas he rode a-hunting, upon a day it happed him to lay him down to\nsleep; and there came a knight that had been long his enemy, and when\nhe saw he was fast asleep he all to-hew him; and this same coat had my\nfather on the same time; and that maketh this coat to sit so evil upon\nme, for the strokes be on it as I found it, and never shall be amended\nfor me. Thus to have my father\u2019s death in remembrance I wear this coat\ntill I be revenged; and because ye are called the most noblest king of\nthe world I come to you that ye should make me knight. Sir, said Sir\nLamorak and Sir Gaheris, it were well done to make him knight; for him\nbeseemeth well of person and of countenance, that he shall prove a good\nman, and a good knight, and a mighty; for, Sir, an ye be remembered,\neven such one was Sir Launcelot du Lake when he came first into this\ncourt, and full few of us knew from whence he came; and now is he\nproved the man of most worship in the world; and all your court and all\nyour Round Table is by Sir Launcelot worshipped and amended more than\nby any knight now living. That is truth, said the king, and to-morrow\nat your request I shall make him knight.\nSo on the morrow there was an hart found, and thither rode King Arthur\nwith a company of his knights to slay the hart. And this young man that\nSir Kay named La Cote Male Taile was there left behind with Queen\nGuenever; and by sudden adventure there was an horrible lion kept in a\nstrong tower of stone, and it happened that he at that time brake\nloose, and came hurling afore the queen and her knights. And when the\nqueen saw the lion she cried and fled, and prayed her knights to rescue\nher. And there was none of them all but twelve that abode, and all the\nother fled. Then said La Cote Male Taile: Now I see well that all\ncoward knights be not dead; and therewithal he drew his sword and\ndressed him afore the lion. And that lion gaped wide and came upon him\nramping to have slain him. And he then smote him in the midst of the\nhead such a mighty stroke that it clave his head in sunder, and dashed\nto the earth. Then was it told the queen how the young man that Sir Kay\nnamed by scorn La Cote Male Taile had slain the lion. With that the\nking came home. And when the queen told him of that adventure, he was\nwell pleased, and said: Upon pain of mine head he shall prove a noble\nman and a faithful knight, and true of his promise: then the king\nforthwithal made him knight. Now Sir, said this young knight, I require\nyou and all the knights of your court, that ye call me by none other\nname but La Cote Male Taile: in so much as Sir Kay hath so named me so\nwill I be called. I assent me well thereto, said the king.\nCHAPTER II. How a damosel came into the court and desired a knight to\ntake on him an enquest, which La Cote Male Taile emprised.\nThen that same day there came a damosel into the court, and she brought\nwith her a great black shield, with a white hand in the midst holding a\nsword. Other picture was there none in that shield. When King Arthur\nsaw her he asked her from whence she came and what she would. Sir, she\nsaid, I have ridden long and many a day with this shield many ways, and\nfor this cause I am come to your court: there was a good knight that\nought this shield, and this knight had undertaken a great deed of arms\nto enchieve it; and so it misfortuned him another strong knight met\nwith him by sudden adventure, and there they fought long, and either\nwounded other passing sore; and they were so weary that they left that\nbattle even hand. So this knight that ought this shield saw none other\nway but he must die; and then he commanded me to bear this shield to\nthe court of King Arthur, he requiring and praying some good knight to\ntake this shield, and that he would fulfil the quest that he was in.\nNow what say ye to this quest? said King Arthur; is there any of you\nhere that will take upon him to wield this shield? Then was there not\none that would speak one word. Then Sir Kay took the shield in his\nhands. Sir knight, said the damosel, what is your name? Wit ye well,\nsaid he, my name is Sir Kay, the Seneschal, that wide-where is known.\nSir, said that damosel, lay down that shield, for wit ye well it\nfalleth not for you, for he must be a better knight than ye that shall\nwield this shield. Damosel, said Sir Kay, wit ye well I took this\nshield in my hands by your leave for to behold it, not to that intent;\nbut go wheresomever thou wilt, for I will not go with you.\nThen the damosel stood still a great while and beheld many of those\nknights. Then spake the knight, La Cote Male Taile: Fair damosel, I\nwill take the shield and that adventure upon me, so I wist I should\nknow whitherward my journey might be; for because I was this day made\nknight I would take this adventure upon me. What is your name, fair\nyoung man? said the damosel. My name is, said he, La Cote Male Taile.\nWell mayest thou be called so, said the damosel, the knight with the\nevil-shapen coat; but an thou be so hardy to take upon thee to bear\nthat shield and to follow me, wit thou well thy skin shall be as well\nhewn as thy coat. As for that, said La Cote Male Taile, when I am so\nhewn I will ask you no salve to heal me withal. And forthwithal there\ncame into the court two squires and brought him great horses, and his\narmour, and his spears, and anon he was armed and took his leave. I\nwould not by my will, said the king, that ye took upon you that hard\nadventure. Sir, said he, this adventure is mine, and the first that\never I took upon me, and that will I follow whatsomever come of me.\nThen that damosel departed, and La Cote Male Taile fast followed after.\nAnd within a while he overtook the damosel, and anon she missaid him in\nthe foulest manner.\nCHAPTER III. How La Cote Male Taile overthrew Sir Dagonet the king\u2019s\nfool, and of the rebuke that he had of the damosel.\nThen Sir Kay ordained Sir Dagonet, King Arthur\u2019s fool, to follow after\nLa Cote Male Taile; and there Sir Kay ordained that Sir Dagonet was\nhorsed and armed, and bade him follow La Cote Male Taile and proffer\nhim to joust, and so he did; and when he saw La Cote Male Taile, he\ncried and bade him make him ready to joust. So Sir La Cote Male Taile\nsmote Sir Dagonet over his horse\u2019s croup. Then the damosel mocked La\nCote Male Taile, and said: Fie for shame! now art thou shamed in\nArthur\u2019s court, when they send a fool to have ado with thee, and\nspecially at thy first jousts; thus she rode long, and chid. And within\na while there came Sir Bleoberis, the good knight, and there he jousted\nwith La Cote Male Taile, and there Sir Bleoberis smote him so sore,\nthat horse and all fell to the earth. Then La Cote Male Taile arose up\nlightly, and dressed his shield, and drew his sword, and would have\ndone battle to the utterance, for he was wood wroth. Not so, said Sir\nBleoberis de Ganis, as at this time I will not fight upon foot. Then\nthe damosel Maledisant rebuked him in the foulest manner, and bade him:\nTurn again, coward. Ah, damosel, he said, I pray you of mercy to missay\nme no more, my grief is enough though ye give me no more; I call myself\nnever the worse knight when a mare\u2019s son faileth me, and also I count\nme never the worse knight for a fall of Sir Bleoberis.\nSo thus he rode with her two days; and by fortune there came Sir\nPalomides and encountered with him, and he in the same wise served him\nas did Bleoberis to-forehand. What dost thou here in my fellowship?\nsaid the damosel Maledisant, thou canst not sit no knight, nor\nwithstand him one buffet, but if it were Sir Dagonet. Ah, fair damosel,\nI am not the worse to take a fall of Sir Palomides, and yet great\ndisworship have I none, for neither Bleoberis nor yet Palomides would\nnot fight with me on foot. As for that, said the damosel, wit thou well\nthey have disdain and scorn to light off their horses to fight with\nsuch a lewd knight as thou art. So in the meanwhile there came Sir\nMordred, Sir Gawaine\u2019s brother, and so he fell in the fellowship with\nthe damosel Maledisant. And then they came afore the Castle Orgulous,\nand there was such a custom that there might no knight come by that\ncastle but either he must joust or be prisoner, or at the least to lose\nhis horse and his harness. And there came out two knights against them,\nand Sir Mordred jousted with the foremost, and that knight of the\ncastle smote Sir Mordred down off his horse. And then La Cote Male\nTaile jousted with that other, and either of them smote other down,\nhorse and all, to the earth. And when they avoided their horses, then\neither of them took other\u2019s horses. And then La Cote Male Taile rode\nunto that knight that smote down Sir Mordred, and jousted with him. And\nthere Sir La Cote Male Taile hurt and wounded him passing sore, and put\nhim from his horse as he had been dead. So he turned unto him that met\nhim afore, and he took the flight towards the castle, and Sir La Cote\nMale Taile rode after him into the Castle Orgulous, and there La Cote\nMale Taile slew him.\nCHAPTER IV. How La Cote Male Taile fought against an hundred knights,\nand how he escaped by the mean of a lady.\nAnd anon there came an hundred knights about him and assailed him; and\nwhen he saw his horse should be slain he alighted and voided his horse,\nand put the bridle under his feet, and so put him out of the gate. And\nwhen he had so done he hurled in among them, and dressed his back unto\na lady\u2019s chamber-wall, thinking himself that he had liefer die there\nwith worship than to abide the rebukes of the damosel Maledisant. And\nin the meantime as he stood and fought, that lady whose was the chamber\nwent out slily at her postern, and without the gates she found La Cote\nMale Taile\u2019s horse, and lightly she gat him by the bridle, and tied him\nto the postern. And then she went unto her chamber slily again for to\nbehold how that one knight fought against an hundred knights. And when\nshe had beheld him long she went to a window behind his back, and said:\nThou knight, thou fightest wonderly well, but for all that at the last\nthou must needs die, but, an thou canst through thy mighty prowess, win\nunto yonder postern, for there have I fastened thy horse to abide thee:\nbut wit thou well thou must think on thy worship, and think not to die,\nfor thou mayst not win unto that postern without thou do nobly and\nmightily. When La Cote Male Taile heard her say so he gripped his sword\nin his hands, and put his shield fair afore him, and through the\nthickest press he thrulled through them. And when he came to the\npostern he found there ready four knights, and at two the first strokes\nhe slew two of the knights, and the other fled; and so he won his horse\nand rode from them. And all as it was it was rehearsed in King Arthur\u2019s\ncourt, how he slew twelve knights within the Castle Orgulous; and so he\nrode on his way.\nAnd in the meanwhile the damosel said to Sir Mordred: I ween my foolish\nknight be either slain or taken prisoner: then were they ware where he\ncame riding. And when he was come unto them he told all how he had sped\nand escaped in despite of them all: And some of the best of them will\ntell no tales. Thou liest falsely, said the damosel, that dare I make\ngood, but as a fool and a dastard to all knighthood they have let thee\npass. That may ye prove, said La Cote Male Taile. With that she sent a\ncourier of hers, that rode alway with her, for to know the truth of\nthis deed; and so he rode thither lightly, and asked how and in what\nmanner that La Cote Male Taile was escaped out of the castle. Then all\nthe knights cursed him, and said that he was a fiend and no man: For he\nhath slain here twelve of our best knights, and we weened unto this day\nthat it had been too much for Sir Launcelot du Lake or for Sir Tristram\nde Liones. And in despite of us all he is departed from us and maugre\nour heads.\nWith this answer the courier departed and came to Maledisant his lady,\nand told her all how Sir La Cote Male Taile had sped at the Castle\nOrgulous. Then she smote down her head, and said little. By my head,\nsaid Sir Mordred to the damosel, ye are greatly to blame so to rebuke\nhim, for I warn you plainly he is a good knight, and I doubt not but he\nshall prove a noble knight; but as yet he may not yet sit sure on\nhorseback, for he that shall be a good horseman it must come of usage\nand exercise. But when he cometh to the strokes of his sword he is then\nnoble and mighty, and that saw Sir Bleoberis and Sir Palomides, for wit\nye well they are wily men of arms, and anon they know when they see a\nyoung knight by his riding, how they are sure to give him a fall from\nhis horse or a great buffet. But for the most part they will not light\non foot with young knights, for they are wight and strongly armed. For\nin likewise Sir Launcelot du Lake, when he was first made knight, he\nwas often put to the worse upon horseback, but ever upon foot he\nrecovered his renown, and slew and defoiled many knights of the Round\nTable. And therefore the rebukes that Sir Launcelot did unto many\nknights causeth them that be men of prowess to beware; for often I have\nseen the old proved knights rebuked and slain by them that were but\nyoung beginners. Thus they rode sure talking by the way together.\nHere leave we off a while of this tale, and speak we of Sir Launcelot\ndu Lake.\nCHAPTER V. How Sir Launcelot came to the court and heard of La Cote\nMale Taile, and how he followed after him, and how La Cote Male Taile\nwas prisoner.\nThat when he was come to the court of King Arthur, then heard he tell\nof the young knight La Cote Male Taile, how he slew the lion, and how\nhe took upon him the adventure of the black shield, the which was named\nat that time the hardiest adventure of the world. So God me save, said\nSir Launcelot unto many of his fellows, it was shame to all the noble\nknights to suffer such a young knight to take such adventure upon him\nfor his destruction; for I will that ye wit, said Sir Launcelot, that\nthat damosel Maledisant hath borne that shield many a day for to seek\nthe most proved knights, and that was she that Breuse Saunce Pit\u00e9 took\nthat shield from her, and after Tristram de Liones rescued that shield\nfrom him and gave it to the damosel again, a little afore that time\nthat Sir Tristram fought with my nephew Sir Blamore de Ganis, for a\nquarrel that was betwixt the King of Ireland and him. Then many knights\nwere sorry that Sir La Cote Male Taile was gone forth to that\nadventure. Truly, said Sir Launcelot, I cast me to ride after him. And\nwithin seven days Sir Launcelot overtook La Cote Male Taile, and then\nhe saluted him and the damosel Maledisant. And when Sir Mordred saw Sir\nLauncelot, then he left their fellowship; and so Sir Launcelot rode\nwith them all a day, and ever that damosel rebuked La Cote Male Taile;\nand then Sir Launcelot answered for him, then she left off, and rebuked\nSir Launcelot.\nSo this meantime Sir Tristram sent by a damosel a letter unto Sir\nLauncelot, excusing him of the wedding of Isoud la Blanche Mains; and\nsaid in the letter, as he was a true knight he had never ado fleshly\nwith Isoud la Blanche Mains; and passing courteously and gentily Sir\nTristram wrote unto Sir Launcelot, ever beseeching him to be his good\nfriend and unto La Beale Isoud of Cornwall, and that Sir Launcelot\nwould excuse him if that ever he saw her. And within short time by the\ngrace of God, said Sir Tristram, that he would speak with La Beale\nIsoud, and with him right hastily. Then Sir Launcelot departed from the\ndamosel and from Sir La Cote Male Taile, for to oversee that letter,\nand to write another letter unto Sir Tristram de Liones.\nAnd in the meanwhile La Cote Male Taile rode with the damosel until\nthey came to a castle that hight Pendragon; and there were six knights\nstood afore him, and one of them proffered to joust with La Cote Male\nTaile. And there La Cote Male Taile smote him over his horse\u2019s croup.\nAnd then the five knights set upon him all at once with their spears,\nand there they smote La Cote Male Taile down, horse and man. And then\nthey alighted suddenly, and set their hands upon him all at once, and\ntook him prisoner, and so led him unto the castle and kept him as\nprisoner.\nAnd on the morn Sir Launcelot arose, and delivered the damosel with\nletters unto Sir Tristram, and then he took his way after La Cote Male\nTaile; and by the way upon a bridge there was a knight proffered Sir\nLauncelot to joust, and Sir Launcelot smote him down, and then they\nfought upon foot a noble battle together, and a mighty; and at the last\nSir Launcelot smote him down grovelling upon his hands and his knees.\nAnd then that knight yielded him, and Sir Launcelot received him fair.\nSir, said the knight, I require thee tell me your name, for much my\nheart giveth unto you. Nay, said Sir Launcelot, as at this time I will\nnot tell you my name, unless then that ye tell me your name. Certainly,\nsaid the knight, my name is Sir Nerovens, that was made knight of my\nlord Sir Launcelot du Lake. Ah, Nerovens de Lile, said Sir Launcelot, I\nam right glad that ye are proved a good knight, for now wit ye well my\nname is Sir Launcelot du Lake. Alas, said Sir Nerovens de Lile, what\nhave I done! And therewithal flatling he fell to his feet, and would\nhave kissed them, but Sir Launcelot would not let him; and then either\nmade great joy of other. And then Sir Nerovens told Sir Launcelot that\nhe should not go by the Castle of Pendragon: For there is a lord, a\nmighty knight, and many knights with him, and this night I heard say\nthat they took a knight prisoner yesterday that rode with a damosel,\nand they say he is a Knight of the Round Table.\nCHAPTER VI. How Sir Launcelot fought with six knights, and after with\nSir Brian, and how he delivered the prisoners.\nAh, said Sir Launcelot, that knight is my fellow, and him shall I\nrescue or else I shall lose my life therefore. And therewithal he rode\nfast till he came before the Castle of Pendragon; and anon therewithal\nthere came six knights, and all made them ready to set upon Sir\nLauncelot at once; then Sir Launcelot feutred his spear, and smote the\nforemost that he brake his back in-sunder, and three of them hit and\nthree failed. And then Sir Launcelot passed through them, and lightly\nhe turned in again, and smote another knight through the breast and\nthroughout the back more than an ell, and therewithal his spear brake.\nSo then all the remnant of the four knights drew their swords and\nlashed at Sir Launcelot. And at every stroke Sir Launcelot bestowed so\nhis strokes that at four strokes sundry they avoided their saddles,\npassing sore wounded; and forthwithal he rode hurling into that castle.\nAnd anon the lord of the castle, that was that time cleped Sir Brian de\nles Isles, the which was a noble man and a great enemy unto King\nArthur, within a while he was armed and upon horseback. And then they\nfeutred their spears and hurled together so strongly that both their\nhorses rashed to the earth. And then they avoided their saddles, and\ndressed their shields, and drew their swords, and flang together as\nwood men, and there were many strokes given in a while. At the last Sir\nLauncelot gave to Sir Brian such a buffet that he kneeled upon his\nknees, and then Sir Launcelot rashed upon him, and with great force he\npulled off his helm; and when Sir Brian saw that he should be slain he\nyielded him, and put him in his mercy and in his grace. Then Sir\nLauncelot made him to deliver all his prisoners that he had within his\ncastle, and therein Sir Launcelot found of Arthur\u2019s knights thirty, and\nforty ladies, and so he delivered them; and then he rode his way. And\nanon as La Cote Male Taile was delivered he gat his horse, and his\nharness, and his damosel Maledisant.\nThe meanwhile Sir Nerovens, that Sir Launcelot had foughten withal\nafore at the bridge, he sent a damosel after Sir Launcelot to wit how\nhe sped at the Castle of Pendragon. And then they within the castle\nmarvelled what knight he was, when Sir Brian and his knights delivered\nall those prisoners. Have ye no marvel, said the damosel, for the best\nknight in this world was here, and did this journey, and wit ye well,\nshe said, it was Sir Launcelot. Then was Sir Brian full glad, and so\nwas his lady, and all his knights, that such a man should win them. And\nwhen the damosel and La Cote Male Taile understood that it was Sir\nLauncelot du Lake that had ridden with them in fellowship, and that she\nremembered her how she had rebuked him and called him coward, then was\nshe passing heavy.\nCHAPTER VII. How Sir Launcelot met with the damosel named Male disant,\nand named her the Damosel Bienpensant.\nSo then they took their horses and rode forth a pace after Sir\nLauncelot. And within two mile they overtook him, and saluted him, and\nthanked him, and the damosel cried Sir Launcelot mercy of her evil deed\nand saying: For now I know the flower of all knighthood is departed\neven between Sir Tristram and you. For God knoweth, said the damosel,\nthat I have sought you my lord, Sir Launcelot, and Sir Tristram long,\nand now I thank God I have met with you; and once at Camelot I met with\nSir Tristram, and there he rescued this black shield with the white\nhand holding a naked sword that Sir Breuse Saunce Pit\u00e9 had taken from\nme. Now, fair damosel, said Sir Launcelot, who told you my name? Sir,\nsaid she, there came a damosel from a knight that ye fought withal at\nthe bridge, and she told me your name was Sir Launcelot du Lake. Blame\nhave she then, said Sir Launcelot, but her lord, Sir Nerovens, hath\ntold her. But, damosel, said Sir Launcelot, upon this covenant I will\nride with you, so that ye will not rebuke this knight Sir La Cote Male\nTaile no more; for he is a good knight, and I doubt not he shall prove\na noble knight, and for his sake and pity that he should not be\ndestroyed I followed him to succour him in this great need. Ah, Jesu\nthank you, said the damosel, for now I will say unto you and to him\nboth, I rebuked him never for no hate that I hated him, but for great\nlove that I had to him. For ever I supposed that he had been too young\nand too tender to take upon him these adventures. And therefore by my\nwill I would have driven him away for jealousy that I had of his life,\nfor it may be no young knight\u2019s deed that shall enchieve this adventure\nto the end. Pardieu, said Sir Launcelot, it is well said, and where ye\nare called the Damosel Maledisant I will call you the Damosel\nBienpensant.\nAnd so they rode forth a great while unto they came to the border of\nthe country of Surluse, and there they found a fair village with a\nstrong bridge like a fortress. And when Sir Launcelot and they were at\nthe bridge there stert forth afore them of gentlemen and yeomen many,\nthat said: Fair lords, ye may not pass this bridge and this fortress\nbecause of that black shield that I see one of you bear, and therefore\nthere shall not pass but one of you at once; therefore choose you which\nof you shall enter within this bridge first. Then Sir Launcelot\nproffered himself first to enter within this bridge. Sir, said La Cote\nMale Taile, I beseech you let me enter within this fortress, and if I\nmay speed well I will send for you, and if it happened that I be slain,\nthere it goeth. And if so be that I am a prisoner taken, then may ye\nrescue me. I am loath, said Sir Launcelot, to let you pass this\npassage. Sir, said La Cote Male Taile, I pray you let me put my body in\nthis adventure. Now go your way, said Sir Launcelot, and Jesu be your\nspeed.\nSo he entered, and anon there met with him two brethren, the one hight\nSir Plaine de Force, and the other hight Sir Plaine de Amours. And anon\nthey met with Sir La Cote Male Taile; and first La Cote Male Taile\nsmote down Plaine de Force, and after he smote down Plaine de Amours;\nand then they dressed them to their shields and swords, and bade La\nCote Male Taile alight, and so he did; and there was dashing and\nfoining with swords, and so they began to assail full hard La Cote Male\nTaile, and many great wounds they gave him upon his head, and upon his\nbreast, and upon his shoulders. And as he might ever among he gave sad\nstrokes again. And then the two brethren traced and traversed for to be\nof both hands of Sir La Cote Male Taile, but he by fine force and\nknightly prowess gat them afore him. And then when he felt himself so\nwounded, then he doubled his strokes, and gave them so many wounds that\nhe felled them to the earth, and would have slain them had they not\nyielded them. And right so Sir La Cote Male Taile took the best horse\nthat there was of them three, and so rode forth his way to the other\nfortress and bridge; and there he met with the third brother whose name\nwas Sir Plenorius, a full noble knight, and there they jousted\ntogether, and either smote other down, horse and man, to the earth. And\nthen they avoided their horses, and dressed their shields, and drew\ntheir swords, and gave many sad strokes, and one while the one knight\nwas afore on the bridge, and another while the other. And thus they\nfought two hours and more, and never rested. And ever Sir Launcelot and\nthe damosel beheld them. Alas, said the damosel, my knight fighteth\npassing sore and over long. Now may ye see, said Sir Launcelot, that he\nis a noble knight, for to consider his first battle, and his grievous\nwounds; and even forthwithal so wounded as he is, it is marvel that he\nmay endure this long battle with that good knight.\nCHAPTER VIII. How La Cote Male Taile was taken prisoner, and after\nrescued by Sir Launcelot, and how Sir Launcelot overcame four brethren.\nThis meanwhile Sir La Cote Male Taile sank right down upon the earth,\nwhat for-wounded and what for-bled he might not stand. Then the other\nknight had pity of him, and said: Fair young knight, dismay you not,\nfor had ye been fresh when ye met with me, as I was, I wot well that I\nshould not have endured so long as ye have done; and therefore for your\nnoble deeds of arms I shall show to you kindness and gentleness in all\nthat I may. And forthwithal this noble knight, Sir Plenorius, took him\nup in his arms, and led him into his tower. And then he commanded him\nthe wine, and made to search him and to stop his bleeding wounds. Sir,\nsaid La Cote Male Taile, withdraw you from me, and hie you to yonder\nbridge again, for there will meet with you another manner knight than\never was I. Why, said Plenorius, is there another manner knight behind\nof your fellowship? Yea, said La Cote Male Taile, there is a much\nbetter knight than I am. What is his name? said Plenorius. Ye shall not\nknow for me, said La Cote Male Taile. Well, said the knight, he shall\nbe encountered withal whatsomever he be.\nThen Sir Plenorius heard a knight call that said: Sir Plenorius, where\nart thou? either thou must deliver me the prisoner that thou hast led\nunto thy tower, or else come and do battle with me. Then Plenorius gat\nhis horse, and came with a spear in his hand walloping toward Sir\nLauncelot; and then they began to feutre their spears, and came\ntogether as thunder, and smote either other so mightily that their\nhorses fell down under them. And then they avoided their horses, and\npulled out their swords, and like two bulls they lashed together with\ngreat strokes and foins; but ever Sir Launcelot recovered ground upon\nhim, and Sir Plenorius traced to have gone about him. But Sir Launcelot\nwould not suffer that, but bare him backer and backer, till he came\nnigh his tower gate. And then said Sir Launcelot: I know thee well for\na good knight, but wit thou well thy life and death is in my hand, and\ntherefore yield thee to me, and thy prisoner. The other answered no\nword, but struck mightily upon Sir Launcelot\u2019s helm, that the fire\nsprang out of his eyes. Then Sir Launcelot doubled his strokes so\nthick, and smote at him so mightily, that he made him kneel upon his\nknees. And therewith Sir Launcelot leapt upon him, and pulled him\ngrovelling down. Then Sir Plenorius yielded him, and his tower, and all\nhis prisoners at his will.\nThen Sir Launcelot received him and took his troth; and then he rode to\nthe other bridge, and there Sir Launcelot jousted with other three of\nhis brethren, the one hight Pillounes, and the other hight Pellogris,\nand the third Sir Pellandris. And first upon horseback Sir Launcelot\nsmote them down, and afterward he beat them on foot, and made them to\nyield them unto him; and then he returned unto Sir Plenorius, and there\nhe found in his prison King Carados of Scotland, and many other\nknights, and all they were delivered. And then Sir La Cote Male Taile\ncame to Sir Launcelot, and then Sir Launcelot would have given him all\nthese fortresses and these bridges. Nay, said La Cote Male Taile, I\nwill not have Sir Plenorius\u2019 livelihood; with that he will grant you,\nmy lord Sir Launcelot, to come unto King Arthur\u2019s court, and to be his\nknight, and all his brethren, I will pray you, my lord, to let him have\nhis livelihood. I will well, said Sir Launcelot, with this that he will\ncome to the court of King Arthur and become his man, and his brethren\nfive. And as for you, Sir Plenorius, I will undertake, said Sir\nLauncelot, at the next feast, so there be a place voided, that ye shall\nbe Knight of the Round Table. Sir, said Plenorius, at the next feast of\nPentecost I will be at Arthur\u2019s court, and at that time I will be\nguided and ruled as King Arthur and ye will have me. Then Sir Launcelot\nand Sir La Cote Male Taile reposed them there, unto the time that Sir\nLa Cote Male Taile was whole of his wounds, and there they had merry\ncheer, and good rest, and many good games, and there were many fair\nladies.\nCHAPTER IX. How Sir Launcelot made La Cote Male Taile lord of the\nCastle of Pendragon, and after was made knight of the Round Table.\nAnd in the meanwhile came Sir Kay, the Seneschal, and Sir Brandiles,\nand anon they fellowshipped with them. And then within ten days, then\ndeparted those knights of Arthur\u2019s court from these fortresses. And as\nSir Launcelot came by the Castle of Pendragon there he put Sir Brian de\nles Isles from his lands, for cause he would never be withhold with\nKing Arthur; and all that Castle of Pendragon and all the lands thereof\nhe gave to Sir La Cote Male Taile. And then Sir Launcelot sent for\nNerovens that he made once knight, and he made him to have all the rule\nof that castle and of that country, under La Cote Male Taile; and so\nthey rode to Arthur\u2019s court all wholly together. And at Pentecost next\nfollowing there was Sir Plenorius and Sir La Cote Male Taile, called\notherwise by right Sir Breunor le Noire, both made Knights of the Table\nRound; and great lands King Arthur gave them, and there Breunor le\nNoire wedded that damosel Maledisant. And after she was called\nBeauvivante, but ever after for the more part he was called La Cote\nMale Taile; and he proved a passing noble knight, and mighty; and many\nworshipful deeds he did after in his life; and Sir Plenorius proved a\nnoble knight and full of prowess, and all the days of their life for\nthe most part they awaited upon Sir Launcelot; and Sir Plenorius\u2019\nbrethren were ever knights of King Arthur. And also, as the French book\nmaketh mention, Sir La Cote Male Taile avenged his father\u2019s death.\nCHAPTER X. How La Beale Isoud sent letters to Sir Tristram by her maid\nBragwaine, and of divers adventures of Sir Tristram.\nNow leave we here Sir La Cote Male Taile, and turn we unto Sir Tristram\nde Liones that was in Brittany. When La Beale Isoud understood that he\nwas wedded she sent to him by her maiden Bragwaine as piteous letters\nas could be thought and made, and her conclusion was that, an it\npleased Sir Tristram, that he would come to her court, and bring with\nhim Isoud la Blanche Mains, and they should be kept as well as she\nherself. Then Sir Tristram called unto him Sir Kehydius, and asked him\nwhether he would go with him into Cornwall secretly. He answered him\nthat he was ready at all times. And then he let ordain privily a little\nvessel, and therein they went, Sir Tristram, Kehydius, Dame Bragwaine,\nand Gouvernail, Sir Tristram\u2019s squire. So when they were in the sea a\ncontrarious wind blew them on the coasts of North Wales, nigh the\nCastle Perilous. Then said Sir Tristram: Here shall ye abide me these\nten days, and Gouvernail, my squire, with you. And if so be I come not\nagain by that day take the next way into Cornwall; for in this forest\nare many strange adventures, as I have heard say, and some of them I\ncast me to prove or I depart. And when I may I shall hie me after you.\nThen Sir Tristram and Kehydius took their horses and departed from\ntheir fellowship. And so they rode within that forest a mile and more;\nand at the last Sir Tristram saw afore him a likely knight, armed,\nsitting by a well, and a strong mighty horse passing nigh him tied to\nan oak, and a man hoving and riding by him leading an horse laden with\nspears. And this knight that sat at the well seemed by his countenance\nto be passing heavy. Then Sir Tristram rode near him and said: Fair\nknight, why sit ye so drooping? ye seem to be a knight-errant by your\narms and harness, and therefore dress you to joust with one of us, or\nwith both. Therewithal that knight made no words, but took his shield\nand buckled it about his neck, and lightly he took his horse and leapt\nupon him. And then he took a great spear of his squire, and departed\nhis way a furlong. Sir Kehydius asked leave of Sir Tristram to joust\nfirst. Do your best, said Sir Tristram. So they met together, and there\nSir Kehydius had a fall, and was sore wounded on high above the paps.\nThen Sir Tristram said: Knight, that is well jousted, now make you\nready unto me. I am ready, said the knight. And then that knight took a\ngreater spear in his hand, and encountered with Sir Tristram, and there\nby great force that knight smote down Sir Tristram from his horse and\nhad a great fall. Then Sir Tristram was sore ashamed, and lightly he\navoided his horse, and put his shield afore his shoulder, and drew his\nsword. And then Sir Tristram required that knight of his knighthood to\nalight upon foot and fight with him. I will well, said the knight; and\nso he alighted upon foot, and avoided his horse, and cast his shield\nupon his shoulder, and drew his sword, and there they fought a long\nbattle together full nigh two hours. Then Sir Tristram said: Fair\nknight, hold thine hand, and tell me of whence thou art, and what is\nthy name. As for that, said the knight, I will be avised; but an thou\nwilt tell me thy name peradventure I will tell thee mine.\nCHAPTER XI. How Sir Tristram met with Sir Lamorak de Galis, and how\nthey fought, and after accorded never to fight together.\nNow fair knight, he said, my name is Sir Tristram de Liones. Sir, said\nthe other knight, and my name is Sir Lamorak de Galis. Ah, Sir Lamorak,\nsaid Sir Tristram, well be we met, and bethink thee now of the despite\nthou didst me of the sending of the horn unto King Mark\u2019s court, to the\nintent to have slain or dishonoured my lady the queen, La Beale Isoud;\nand therefore wit thou well, said Sir Tristram, the one of us shall die\nor we depart. Sir, said Sir Lamorak, remember that we were together in\nthe Isle of Servage, and at that time ye promised me great friendship.\nThen Sir Tristram would make no longer delays, but lashed at Sir\nLamorak; and thus they fought long till either were weary of other.\nThen Sir Tristram said to Sir Lamorak: In all my life met I never with\nsuch a knight that was so big and well breathed as ye be, therefore,\nsaid Sir Tristram, it were pity that any of us both should here be\nmischieved. Sir, said Sir Lamorak, for your renown and name I will that\nye have the worship of this battle, and therefore I will yield me unto\nyou. And therewith he took the point of his sword to yield him. Nay,\nsaid Sir Tristram, ye shall not do so, for well I know your proffers,\nand more of your gentleness than for any fear or dread ye have of me.\nAnd therewithal Sir Tristram proffered him his sword and said: Sir\nLamorak, as an overcome knight I yield me unto you as to a man of the\nmost noble prowess that ever I met withal. Nay, said Sir Lamorak, I\nwill do you gentleness; I require you let us be sworn together that\nnever none of us shall after this day have ado with other. And\ntherewithal Sir Tristram and Sir Lamorak sware that never none of them\nshould fight against other, nor for weal nor for woe.\nCHAPTER XII. How Sir Palomides followed the Questing Beast, and smote\ndown Sir Tristram and Sir Lamorak with one spear.\nAnd this meanwhile there came Sir Palomides, the good knight, following\nthe Questing Beast that had in shape a head like a serpent\u2019s head, and\na body like a leopard, buttocks like a lion, and footed like an hart;\nand in his body there was such a noise as it had been the noise of\nthirty couple of hounds questing, and such a noise that beast made\nwheresomever he went; and this beast ever more Sir Palomides followed,\nfor it was called his quest. And right so as he followed this beast it\ncame by Sir Tristram, and soon after came Palomides. And to brief this\nmatter he smote down Sir Tristram and Sir Lamorak both with one spear;\nand so he departed after the beast Galtisant, that was called the\nQuesting Beast; wherefore these two knights were passing wroth that Sir\nPalomides would not fight on foot with them. Here men may understand\nthat be of worship, that he was never formed that all times might\nstand, but sometime he was put to the worse by mal-fortune; and at\nsometime the worse knight put the better knight to a rebuke.\nThen Sir Tristram and Sir Lamorak gat Sir Kehydius upon a shield\nbetwixt them both, and led him to a forester\u2019s lodge, and there they\ngave him in charge to keep him well, and with him they abode three\ndays. Then the two knights took their horses and at the cross they\ndeparted. And then said Sir Tristram to Sir Lamorak: I require you if\nye hap to meet with Sir Palomides, say him that he shall find me at the\nsame well where I met him, and there I, Sir Tristram, shall prove\nwhether he be better knight than I. And so either departed from other a\nsundry way, and Sir Tristram rode nigh thereas was Sir Kehydius; and\nSir Lamorak rode until he came to a chapel, and there he put his horse\nunto pasture. And anon there came Sir Meliagaunce, that was King\nBagdemagus\u2019 son, and he there put his horse to pasture, and was not\nware of Sir Lamorak; and then this knight Sir Meliagaunce made his moan\nof the love that he had to Queen Guenever, and there he made a woful\ncomplaint. All this heard Sir Lamorak, and on the morn Sir Lamorak took\nhis horse and rode unto the forest, and there he met with two knights\nhoving under the wood-shaw. Fair knights, said Sir Lamorak, what do ye\nhoving here and watching? and if ye be knights-errant that will joust,\nlo I am ready. Nay, sir knight, they said, not so, we abide not here to\njoust with you, but we lie here in await of a knight that slew our\nbrother. What knight was that, said Sir Lamorak, that you would fain\nmeet withal? Sir, they said, it is Sir Launcelot that slew our brother,\nand if ever we may meet with him he shall not escape, but we shall slay\nhim. Ye take upon you a great charge, said Sir Lamorak, for Sir\nLauncelot is a noble proved knight. As for that we doubt not, for there\nnis none of us but we are good enough for him. I will not believe that,\nsaid Sir Lamorak, for I heard never yet of no knight the days of my\nlife but Sir Launcelot was too big for him.\nCHAPTER XIII. How Sir Lamorak met with Sir Meliagaunce, and fought\ntogether for the beauty of Dame Guenever.\nRight so as they stood talking thus Sir Lamorak was ware how Sir\nLauncelot came riding straight toward them; then Sir Lamorak saluted\nhim, and he him again. And then Sir Lamorak asked Sir Launcelot if\nthere were anything that he might do for him in these marches. Nay,\nsaid Sir Launcelot, not at this time I thank you. Then either departed\nfrom other, and Sir Lamorak rode again thereas he left the two knights,\nand then he found them hid in the leaved wood. Fie on you, said Sir\nLamorak, false cowards, pity and shame it is that any of you should\ntake the high order of knighthood. So Sir Lamorak departed from them,\nand within a while he met with Sir Meliagaunce. And then Sir Lamorak\nasked him why he loved Queen Guenever as he did: For I was not far from\nyou when ye made your complaint by the chapel. Did ye so? said Sir\nMeliagaunce, then will I abide by it: I love Queen Guenever, what will\nye with it? I will prove and make good that she is the fairest lady and\nmost of beauty in the world. As to that, said Sir Lamorak, I say nay\nthereto, for Queen Morgawse of Orkney, mother to Sir Gawaine, and his\nmother is the fairest queen and lady that beareth the life. That is not\nso, said Sir Meliagaunce, and that will I prove with my hands upon thy\nbody. Will ye so? said Sir Lamorak, and in a better quarrel keep I not\nto fight. Then they departed either from other in great wrath. And then\nthey came riding together as it had been thunder, and either smote\nother so sore that their horses fell backward to the earth. And then\nthey avoided their horses, and dressed their shields, and drew their\nswords. And then they hurtled together as wild boars, and thus they\nfought a great while. For Meliagaunce was a good man and of great\nmight, but Sir Lamorak was hard big for him, and put him always aback,\nbut either had wounded other sore.\nAnd as they stood thus fighting, by fortune came Sir Launcelot and Sir\nBleoberis riding. And then Sir Launcelot rode betwixt them, and asked\nthem for what cause they fought so together: And ye are both knights of\nKing Arthur!\nSir, said Meliagaunce, I shall tell you for what cause we do this\nbattle. I praised my lady, Queen Guenever, and said she was the fairest\nlady of the world, and Sir Lamorak said nay thereto, for he said Queen\nMorgawse of Orkney was fairer than she and more of beauty. Ah, Sir\nLamorak, why sayest thou so? it is not thy part to dispraise thy\nprincess that thou art under her obeissance, and we all. And therewith\nhe alighted on foot, and said: For this quarrel, make thee ready, for I\nwill prove upon thee that Queen Guenever is the fairest lady and most\nof bounty in the world. Sir, said Sir Lamorak, I am loath to have ado\nwith you in this quarrel, for every man thinketh his own lady fairest;\nand though I praise the lady that I love most ye should not be wroth;\nfor though my lady, Queen Guenever, be fairest in your eye, wit ye well\nQueen Morgawse of Orkney is fairest in mine eye, and so every knight\nthinketh his own lady fairest; and wit ye well, sir, ye are the man in\nthe world except Sir Tristram that I am most loathest to have ado\nwithal, but, an ye will needs fight with me I shall endure you as long\nas I may. Then spake Sir Bleoberis and said: My lord Sir Launcelot, I\nwist you never so misadvised as ye are now, for Sir Lamorak sayeth you\nbut reason and knightly; for I warn you I have a lady, and methinketh\nthat she is the fairest lady of the world. Were this a great reason\nthat ye should be wroth with me for such language? And well ye wot,\nthat Sir Lamorak is as noble a knight as I know, and he hath ought you\nand us ever good will, and therefore I pray you be good friends. Then\nSir Launcelot said unto Sir Lamorak. I pray you forgive me mine evil\nwill, and if I was misadvised I will amend it. Sir, said Sir Lamorak,\nthe amends is soon made betwixt you and me. And so Sir Launcelot and\nSir Bleoberis departed, and Sir Meliagaunce and Sir Lamorak took their\nhorses, and either departed from other.\nAnd within a while came King Arthur, and met with Sir Lamorak, and\njousted with him; and there he smote down Sir Lamorak, and wounded him\nsore with a spear, and so he rode from him; wherefore Sir Lamorak was\nwroth that he would not fight with him on foot, howbeit that Sir\nLamorak knew not King Arthur.\nCHAPTER XIV. How Sir Kay met with Sir Tristram, and after of the shame\nspoken of the knights of Cornwall, and how they jousted.\nNow leave we of this tale, and speak we of Sir Tristram, that as he\nrode he met with Sir Kay, the Seneschal; and there Sir Kay asked Sir\nTristram of what country he was. He answered that he was of the country\nof Cornwall. It may well be, said Sir Kay, for yet heard I never that\never good knight came out of Cornwall. That is evil spoken, said Sir\nTristram, but an it please you to tell me your name I require you. Sir,\nwit ye well, said Sir Kay, that my name is Sir Kay, the Seneschal. Is\nthat your name? said Sir Tristram, now wit ye well that ye are named\nthe shamefullest knight of your tongue that now is living; howbeit ye\nare called a good knight, but ye are called unfortunate, and passing\noverthwart of your tongue. And thus they rode together till they came\nto a bridge. And there was a knight would not let them pass till one of\nthem jousted with him; and so that knight jousted with Sir Kay, and\nthere that knight gave Sir Kay a fall: his name was Sir Tor, Sir\nLamorak\u2019s half-brother. And then they two rode to their lodging, and\nthere they found Sir Brandiles, and Sir Tor came thither anon after.\nAnd as they sat at supper these four knights, three of them spake all\nshame by Cornish knights. Sir Tristram heard all that they said and he\nsaid but little, but he thought the more, but at that time he\ndiscovered not his name.\nUpon the morn Sir Tristram took his horse and abode them upon their\nway. And there Sir Brandiles proffered to joust with Sir Tristram, and\nSir Tristram smote him down, horse and all, to the earth. Then Sir Tor\nle Fise de Vayshoure encountered with Sir Tristram and there Sir\nTristram smote him down, and then he rode his way, and Sir Kay followed\nhim, but he would not of his fellowship. Then Sir Brandiles came to Sir\nKay and said: I would wit fain what is that knight\u2019s name. Come on with\nme, said Sir Kay, and we shall pray him to tell us his name. So they\nrode together till they came nigh him, and then they were ware where he\nsat by a well, and had put off his helm to drink at the well. And when\nhe saw them come he laced on his helm lightly, and took his horse, and\nproffered them to joust. Nay, said Sir Brandiles, we jousted late\nenough with you, we come not in that intent. But for this we come to\nrequire you of knighthood to tell us your name. My fair knights, sithen\nthat is your desire, and to please you, ye shall wit that my name is\nSir Tristram de Liones, nephew unto King Mark of Cornwall. In good\ntime, said Sir Brandiles, and well be ye found, and wit ye well that we\nbe right glad that we have found you, and we be of a fellowship that\nwould be right glad of your company. For ye are the knight in the world\nthat the noble fellowship of the Round Table most desireth to have the\ncompany of. God thank them, said Sir Tristram, of their great goodness,\nbut as yet I feel well that I am unable to be of their fellowship, for\nI was never yet of such deeds of worthiness to be in the company of\nsuch a fellowship. Ah, said Sir Kay, an ye be Sir Tristram de Liones,\nye are the man called now most of prowess except Sir Launcelot du Lake;\nfor he beareth not the life, Christian nor heathen, that can find such\nanother knight, to speak of his prowess, and of his hands, and his\ntruth withal. For yet could there never creature say of him dishonour\nand make it good. Thus they talked a great while, and then they\ndeparted either from other such ways as them seemed best.\nCHAPTER XV. How King Arthur was brought into the Forest Perilous, and\nhow Sir Tristram saved his life.\nNow shall ye hear what was the cause that King Arthur came into the\nForest Perilous, that was in North Wales, by the means of a lady. Her\nname was Annowre, and this lady came to King Arthur at Cardiff; and she\nby fair promise and fair behests made King Arthur to ride with her into\nthat Forest Perilous; and she was a great sorceress; and many days she\nhad loved King Arthur, and because she would have him to lie by her she\ncame into that country. So when the king was gone with her many of his\nknights followed after King Arthur when they missed him, as Sir\nLauncelot, Brandiles, and many other; and when she had brought him to\nher tower she desired him to lie by her; and then the king remembered\nhim of his lady, and would not lie by her for no craft that she could\ndo. Then every day she would make him ride into that forest with his\nown knights, to the intent to have had King Arthur slain. For when this\nLady Annowre saw that she might not have him at her will, then she\nlaboured by false means to have destroyed King Arthur, and slain.\nThen the Lady of the Lake that was alway friendly to King Arthur, she\nunderstood by her subtle crafts that King Arthur was like to be\ndestroyed. And therefore this Lady of the Lake, that hight Nimue, came\ninto that forest to seek after Sir Launcelot du Lake or Sir Tristram\nfor to help King Arthur; foras that same day this Lady of the Lake knew\nwell that King Arthur should be slain, unless that he had help of one\nof these two knights. And thus she rode up and down till she met with\nSir Tristram, and anon as she saw him she knew him. O my lord Sir\nTristram, she said, well be ye met, and blessed be the time that I have\nmet with you; for this same day, and within these two hours, shall be\ndone the foulest deed that ever was done in this land. O fair damosel,\nsaid Sir Tristram, may I amend it. Come on with me, she said, and that\nin all the haste ye may, for ye shall see the most worshipfullest\nknight of the world hard bestead. Then said Sir Tristram: I am ready to\nhelp such a noble man. He is neither better nor worse, said the Lady of\nthe Lake, but the noble King Arthur himself. God defend, said Sir\nTristram, that ever he should be in such distress. Then they rode\ntogether a great pace, until they came to a little turret or castle;\nand underneath that castle they saw a knight standing upon foot\nfighting with two knights; and so Sir Tristram beheld them, and at the\nlast the two knights smote down the one knight, and that one of them\nunlaced his helm to have slain him. And the Lady Annowre gat King\nArthur\u2019s sword in her hand to have stricken off his head. And\ntherewithal came Sir Tristram with all his might, crying: Traitress,\ntraitress, leave that. And anon there Sir Tristram smote the one of the\nknights through the body that he fell dead; and then he rashed to the\nother and smote his back asunder; and in the meanwhile the Lady of the\nLake cried to King Arthur: Let not that false lady escape. Then King\nArthur overtook her, and with the same sword he smote off her head, and\nthe Lady of the Lake took up her head and hung it up by the hair of her\nsaddle-bow. And then Sir Tristram horsed King Arthur and rode forth\nwith him, but he charged the Lady of the Lake not to discover his name\nas at that time.\nWhen the king was horsed he thanked heartily Sir Tristram, and desired\nto wit his name; but he would not tell him, but that he was a poor\nknight adventurous; and so he bare King Arthur fellowship till he met\nwith some of his knights. And within a while he met with Sir Ector de\nMaris, and he knew not King Arthur nor Sir Tristram, and he desired to\njoust with one of them. Then Sir Tristram rode unto Sir Ector, and\nsmote him from his horse. And when he had done so he came again to the\nking and said: My lord, yonder is one of your knights, he may bare you\nfellowship, and another day that deed that I have done for you I trust\nto God ye shall understand that I would do you service. Alas, said King\nArthur, let me wit what ye are? Not at this time, said Sir Tristram. So\nhe departed and left King Arthur and Sir Ector together.\nCHAPTER XVI. How Sir Tristram came to La Beale Isoud, and how Kehydius\nbegan to love Beale Isoud, and of a letter that Tristram found.\nAnd then at a day set Sir Tristram and Sir Lamorak met at the well; and\nthen they took Kehydius at the forester\u2019s house, and so they rode with\nhim to the ship where they left Dame Bragwaine and Gouvernail, and so\nthey sailed into Cornwall all wholly together. And by assent and\ninformation of Dame Bragwaine when they were landed they rode unto Sir\nDinas, the Seneschal, a trusty friend of Sir Tristram\u2019s. And so Dame\nBragwaine and Sir Dinas rode to the court of King Mark, and told the\nqueen, La Beale Isoud, that Sir Tristram was nigh her in that country.\nThen for very pure joy La Beale Isoud swooned; and when she might speak\nshe said: Gentle knight Seneschal, help that I might speak with him,\nouther my heart will brast. Then Sir Dinas and Dame Bragwaine brought\nSir Tristram and Kehydius privily unto the court, unto a chamber\nwhereas La Beale Isoud had assigned it; and to tell the joys that were\nbetwixt La Beale Isoud and Sir Tristram, there is no tongue can tell\nit, nor heart think it, nor pen write it. And as the French book maketh\nmention, at the first time that ever Sir Kehydius saw La Beale Isoud he\nwas so enamoured upon her that for very pure love he might never\nwithdraw it. And at the last, as ye shall hear or the book be ended,\nSir Kehydius died for the love of La Beale Isoud. And then privily he\nwrote unto her letters and ballads of the most goodliest that were used\nin those days. And when La Beale Isoud understood his letters she had\npity of his complaint, and unavised she wrote another letter to comfort\nhim withal.\nAnd Sir Tristram was all this while in a turret at the commandment of\nLa Beale Isoud, and when she might she came unto Sir Tristram. So on a\nday King Mark played at the chess under a chamber window; and at that\ntime Sir Tristram and Sir Kehydius were within the chamber over King\nMark, and as it mishapped Sir Tristram found the letter that Kehydius\nsent unto La Beale Isoud, also he had found the letter that she wrote\nunto Kehydius, and at that same time La Beale Isoud was in the same\nchamber. Then Sir Tristram came unto La Beale Isoud and said: Madam,\nhere is a letter that was sent unto you, and here is the letter that ye\nsent unto him that sent you that letter. Alas, Madam, the good love\nthat I have loved you; and many lands and riches have I forsaken for\nyour love, and now ye are a traitress to me, the which doth me great\npain. But as for thee, Sir Kehydius, I brought thee out of Brittany\ninto this country, and thy father, King Howel, I won his lands, howbeit\nI wedded thy sister Isoud la Blanche Mains for the goodness she did\nunto me. And yet, as I am true knight, she is a clean maiden for me;\nbut wit thou well, Sir Kehydius, for this falsehood and treason thou\nhast done me, I will revenge it upon thee. And therewithal Sir Tristram\ndrew out his sword and said: Sir Kehydius, keep thee, and then La Beale\nIsoud swooned to the earth. And when Sir Kehydius saw Sir Tristram come\nupon him he saw none other boot, but leapt out at a bay-window even\nover the head where sat King Mark playing at the chess. And when the\nking saw one come hurling over his head he said: Fellow, what art thou,\nand what is the cause thou leapest out at that window? My lord the\nking, said Kehydius, it fortuned me that I was asleep in the window\nabove your head, and as I slept I slumbered, and so I fell down. And\nthus Sir Kehydius excused him.\nCHAPTER XVII. How Sir Tristram departed from Tintagil, and how he\nsorrowed and was so long in a forest till he was out of his mind.\nThen Sir Tristram dread sore lest he were discovered unto the king that\nhe was there; wherefore he drew him to the strength of the Tower, and\narmed him in such armour as he had for to fight with them that would\nwithstand him. And so when Sir Tristram saw there was no resistance\nagainst him he sent Gouvernail for his horse and his spear, and\nknightly he rode forth out of the castle openly, that was called the\nCastle of Tintagil. And even at gate he met with Gingalin, Sir\nGawaine\u2019s son. And anon Sir Gingalin put his spear in his rest, and ran\nupon Sir Tristram and brake his spear; and Sir Tristram at that time\nhad but a sword, and gave him such a buffet upon the helm that he fell\ndown from his saddle, and his sword slid adown, and carved asunder his\nhorse\u2019s neck. And so Sir Tristram rode his way into the forest, and all\nthis doing saw King Mark. And then he sent a squire unto the hurt\nknight, and commanded him to come to him, and so he did. And when King\nMark wist that it was Sir Gingalin he welcomed him and gave him an\nhorse, and asked him what knight it was that had encountered with him.\nSir, said Gingalin, I wot not what knight he was, but well I wot that\nhe sigheth and maketh great dole.\nThen Sir Tristram within a while met with a knight of his own, that\nhight Sir Fergus. And when he had met with him he made great sorrow,\ninsomuch that he fell down off his horse in a swoon, and in such sorrow\nhe was in three days and three nights. Then at the last Sir Tristram\nsent unto the court by Sir Fergus, for to spere what tidings. And so as\nhe rode by the way he met with a damosel that came from Sir Palomides,\nto know and seek how Sir Tristram did. Then Sir Fergus told her how he\nwas almost out of his mind. Alas, said the damosel, where shall I find\nhim? In such a place, said Sir Fergus. Then Sir Fergus found Queen\nIsoud sick in her bed, making the greatest dole that ever any earthly\nwoman made. And when the damosel found Sir Tristram she made great dole\nbecause she might not amend him, for the more she made of him the more\nwas his pain. And at the last Sir Tristram took his horse and rode away\nfrom her. And then was it three days or that she could find him, and\nthen she brought him meat and drink, but he would none; and then\nanother time Sir Tristram escaped away from the damosel, and it happed\nhim to ride by the same castle where Sir Palomides and Sir Tristram did\nbattle when La Beale Isoud departed them. And there by fortune the\ndamosel met with Sir Tristram again, making the greatest dole that ever\nearthly creature made; and she yede to the lady of that castle and told\nher of the misadventure of Sir Tristram. Alas, said the lady of that\ncastle, where is my lord, Sir Tristram? Right here by your castle, said\nthe damosel. In good time, said the lady, is he so nigh me; he shall\nhave meat and drink of the best; and an harp I have of his whereupon he\ntaught me, for of goodly harping he beareth the prize in the world. So\nthis lady and damosel brought him meat and drink, but he ate little\nthereof. Then upon a night he put his horse from him, and then he\nunlaced his armour, and then Sir Tristram would go into the wilderness,\nand brast down the trees and boughs; and otherwhile when he found the\nharp that the lady sent him, then would he harp, and play thereupon and\nweep together. And sometime when Sir Tristram was in the wood that the\nlady wist not where he was, then would she sit her down and play upon\nthat harp: then would Sir Tristram come to that harp, and hearken\nthereto, and sometime he would harp himself. Thus he there endured a\nquarter of a year. Then at the last he ran his way, and she wist not\nwhere he was become. And then was he naked and waxed lean and poor of\nflesh; and so he fell in the fellowship of herdmen and shepherds, and\ndaily they would give him some of their meat and drink. And when he did\nany shrewd deed they would beat him with rods, and so they clipped him\nwith shears and made him like a fool.\nCHAPTER XVIII. How Sir Tristram soused Dagonet in a well, and how\nPalomides sent a damosel to seek Tristram, and how Palomides met with\nKing Mark.\nAnd upon a day Dagonet, King Arthur\u2019s fool, came into Cornwall with two\nsquires with him; and as they rode through that forest they came by a\nfair well where Sir Tristram was wont to be; and the weather was hot,\nand they alighted to drink of that well, and in the meanwhile their\nhorses brake loose. Right so Sir Tristram came unto them, and first he\nsoused Sir Dagonet in that well, and after his squires, and thereat\nlaughed the shepherds; and forthwithal he ran after their horses and\nbrought them again one by one, and right so, wet as they were, he made\nthem leap up and ride their ways. Thus Sir Tristram endured there an\nhalf year naked, and would never come in town nor village. The\nmeanwhile the damosel that Sir Palomides sent to seek Sir Tristram, she\nyede unto Sir Palomides and told him all the mischief that Sir Tristram\nendured. Alas, said Sir Palomides, it is great pity that ever so noble\na knight should be so mischieved for the love of a lady; but\nnevertheless, I will go and seek him, and comfort him an I may. Then a\nlittle before that time La Beale Isoud had commanded Sir Kehydius out\nof the country of Cornwall. So Sir Kehydius departed with a dolorous\nheart, and by adventure he met with Sir Palomides, and they\nenfellowshipped together; and either complained to other of their hot\nlove that they loved La Beale Isoud. Now let us, said Sir Palomides,\nseek Sir Tristram, that loved her as well as we, and let us prove\nwhether we may recover him. So they rode into that forest, and three\ndays and three nights they would never take their lodging, but ever\nsought Sir Tristram.\nAnd upon a time, by adventure, they met with King Mark that was ridden\nfrom his men all alone. When they saw him Sir Palomides knew him, but\nSir Kehydius knew him not. Ah, false king, said Sir Palomides, it is\npity thou hast thy life, for thou art a destroyer of all worshipful\nknights, and by thy mischief and thy vengeance thou hast destroyed that\nmost noble knight, Sir Tristram de Liones. And therefore defend thee,\nsaid Sir Palomides, for thou shalt die this day. That were shame, said\nKing Mark, for ye two are armed and I am unarmed. As for that, said Sir\nPalomides, I shall find a remedy therefore; here is a knight with me,\nand thou shalt have his harness. Nay, said King Mark, I will not have\nado with you, for cause have ye none to me; for all the misease that\nSir Tristram hath was for a letter that he found; for as to me I did to\nhim no displeasure, and God knoweth I am full sorry for his disease and\nmalady. So when the king had thus excused him they were friends, and\nKing Mark would have had them unto Tintagil; but Sir Palomides would\nnot, but turned unto the realm of Logris, and Sir Kehydius said that he\nwould go into Brittany.\nNow turn we unto Sir Dagonet again, that when he and his squires were\nupon horseback he deemed that the shepherds had sent that fool to array\nthem so, because that they laughed at them, and so they rode unto the\nkeepers of beasts and all to-beat them. Sir Tristram saw them beat that\nwere wont to give him meat and drink, then he ran thither and gat Sir\nDagonet by the head, and gave him such a fall to the earth that he\nbruised him sore so that he lay still. And then he wrast his sword out\nof his hand, and therewith he ran to one of his squires and smote off\nhis head, and the other fled. And so Sir Tristram took his way with\nthat sword in his hand, running as he had been wild wood. Then Sir\nDagonet rode to King Mark and told him how he had sped in that forest.\nAnd therefore, said Sir Dagonet, beware, King Mark, that thou come not\nabout that well in the forest, for there is a fool naked, and that fool\nand I fool met together, and he had almost slain me. Ah, said King\nMark, that is Sir Matto le Breune, that fell out of his wit because he\nlost his lady; for when Sir Gaheris smote down Sir Matto and won his\nlady of him, never since was he in his mind, and that was pity, for he\nwas a good knight.\nCHAPTER XIX. How it was noised how Sir Tristram was dead, and how La\nBeale Isoud would have slain herself.\nThen Sir Andred, that was cousin unto Sir Tristram, made a lady that\nwas his paramour to say and to noise it that she was with Sir Tristram\nor ever he died. And this tale she brought unto King Mark\u2019s court, that\nshe buried him by a well, and that or he died he besought King Mark to\nmake his cousin, Sir Andred, king of the country of Liones, of the\nwhich Sir Tristram was lord of. All this did Sir Andred because he\nwould have had Sir Tristram\u2019s lands. And when King Mark heard tell that\nSir Tristram was dead he wept and made great dole. But when Queen Isoud\nheard of these tidings she made such sorrow that she was nigh out of\nher mind; and so upon a day she thought to slay herself and never to\nlive after Sir Tristram\u2019s death. And so upon a day La Beale Isoud gat a\nsword privily and bare it to her garden, and there she pight the sword\nthrough a plum tree up to the hilt, so that it stuck fast, and it stood\nbreast high. And as she would have run upon the sword and to have slain\nherself all this espied King Mark, how she kneeled down and said: Sweet\nLord Jesu, have mercy upon me, for I may not live after the death of\nSir Tristram de Liones, for he was my first love and he shall be the\nlast. And with these words came King Mark and took her in his arms, and\nthen he took up the sword, and bare her away with him into a tower; and\nthere he made her to be kept, and watched her surely, and after that\nshe lay long sick, nigh at the point of death.\nThis meanwhile ran Sir Tristram naked in the forest with the sword in\nhis hand, and so he came to an hermitage, and there he laid him down\nand slept; and in the meanwhile the hermit stole away his sword, and\nlaid meat down by him. Thus was he kept there ten days; and at the last\nhe departed and came to the herdmen again. And there was a giant in\nthat country that hight Tauleas, and for fear of Sir Tristram more than\nseven year he durst never much go at large, but for the most part he\nkept him in a sure castle of his own; and so this Tauleas heard tell\nthat Sir Tristram was dead, by the noise of the court of King Mark.\nThen this Tauleas went daily at large. And so he happed upon a day he\ncame to the herdmen wandering and langering, and there he set him down\nto rest among them. The meanwhile there came a knight of Cornwall that\nled a lady with him, and his name was Sir Dinant; and when the giant\nsaw him he went from the herdmen and hid him under a tree, and so the\nknight came to that well, and there he alighted to repose him. And as\nsoon as he was from his horse this giant Tauleas came betwixt this\nknight and his horse, and took the horse and leapt upon him. So\nforthwith he rode unto Sir Dinant and took him by the collar, and\npulled him afore him upon his horse, and there would have stricken off\nhis head. Then the herdmen said unto Sir Tristram: Help yonder knight.\nHelp ye him, said Sir Tristram. We dare not, said the herdmen. Then Sir\nTristram was ware of the sword of the knight thereas it lay; and so\nthither he ran and took up the sword and struck off Sir Tauleas\u2019 head,\nand so he yede his way to the herdmen.\nCHAPTER XX. How King Mark found Sir Tristram naked, and made him to be\nborne home to Tintagil, and how he was there known by a brachet.\nThen the knight took up the giant\u2019s head and bare it with him unto King\nMark, and told him what adventure betid him in the forest, and how a\nnaked man rescued him from the grimly giant, Tauleas. Where had ye this\nadventure? said King Mark. Forsooth, said Sir Dinant, at the fair\nfountain in your forest where many adventurous knights meet, and there\nis the mad man. Well, said King Mark, I will see that wild man. So\nwithin a day or two King Mark commanded his knights and his hunters\nthat they should be ready on the morn for to hunt, and so upon the morn\nhe went unto that forest. And when the king came to that well he found\nthere lying by that well a fair naked man, and a sword by him. Then\nKing Mark blew and straked, and therewith his knights came to him; and\nthen the king commanded his knights to: Take that naked man with\nfairness, and bring him to my castle. So they did softly and fair, and\ncast mantles upon Sir Tristram, and so led him unto Tintagil; and there\nthey bathed him, and washed him, and gave him hot suppings till they\nhad brought him well to his remembrance; but all this while there was\nno creature that knew Sir Tristram, nor what man he was.\nSo it fell upon a day that the queen, La Beale Isoud, heard of such a\nman, that ran naked in the forest, and how the king had brought him\nhome to the court. Then La Beale Isoud called unto her Dame Bragwaine\nand said: Come on with me, for we will go see this man that my lord\nbrought from the forest the last day. So they passed forth, and spered\nwhere was the sick man. And then a squire told the queen that he was in\nthe garden taking his rest, and reposing him against the sun. So when\nthe queen looked upon Sir Tristram she was not remembered of him. But\never she said unto Dame Bragwaine: Meseemeth I should have seen him\nheretofore in many places. But as soon as Sir Tristram saw her he knew\nher well enough. And then he turned away his visage and wept.\nThen the queen had always a little brachet with her that Sir Tristram\ngave her the first time that ever she came into Cornwall, and never\nwould that brachet depart from her but if Sir Tristram was nigh thereas\nwas La Beale Isoud; and this brachet was sent from the king\u2019s daughter\nof France unto Sir Tristram for great love. And anon as this little\nbrachet felt a savour of Sir Tristram, she leapt upon him and licked\nhis lears and his ears, and then she whined and quested, and she\nsmelled at his feet and at his hands, and on all parts of his body that\nshe might come to. Ah, my lady, said Dame Bragwaine unto La Beale\nIsoud, alas, alas, said she, I see it is mine own lord, Sir Tristram.\nAnd thereupon Isoud fell down in a swoon, and so lay a great while. And\nwhen she might speak she said: My lord Sir Tristram, blessed be God ye\nhave your life, and now I am sure ye shall be discovered by this little\nbrachet, for she will never leave you. And also I am sure as soon as my\nlord, King Mark, do know you he will banish you out of the country of\nCornwall, or else he will destroy you; for God\u2019s sake, mine own lord,\ngrant King Mark his will, and then draw you unto the court of King\nArthur, for there are ye beloved, and ever when I may I shall send unto\nyou; and when ye list ye may come to me, and at all times early and\nlate I will be at your commandment, to live as poor a life as ever did\nqueen or lady. O Madam, said Sir Tristram, go from me, for mickle anger\nand danger have I escaped for your love.\nCHAPTER XXI. How King Mark, by the advice of his council, banished Sir\nTristram out of Cornwall the term of ten years.\nThen the queen departed, but the brachet would not from him; and\ntherewithal came King Mark, and the brachet set upon him, and bayed at\nthem all. There withal Sir Andred spake and said: Sir, this is Sir\nTristram, I see by the brachet. Nay, said the king, I cannot suppose\nthat. Then the king asked him upon his faith what he was, and what was\nhis name. So God me help, said he, my name is Sir Tristram de Liones;\nnow do by me what ye list. Ah, said King Mark, me repenteth of your\nrecovery. And then he let call his barons to judge Sir Tristram to the\ndeath. Then many of his barons would not assent thereto, and in\nespecial Sir Dinas, the Seneschal, and Sir Fergus. And so by the advice\nof them all Sir Tristram was banished out of the country for ten year,\nand thereupon he took his oath upon a book before the king and his\nbarons. And so he was made to depart out of the country of Cornwall;\nand there were many barons brought him unto his ship, of the which some\nwere his friends and some his foes. And in the meanwhile there came a\nknight of King Arthur\u2019s, his name was Dinadan, and his coming was for\nto seek after Sir Tristram; then they showed him where he was armed at\nall points going to the ship. Now fair knight, said Sir Dinadan, or ye\npass this court that ye will joust with me I require thee. With a good\nwill, said Sir Tristram, an these lords will give me leave. Then the\nbarons granted thereto, and so they ran together, and there Sir\nTristram gave Sir Dinadan a fall. And then he prayed Sir Tristram to\ngive him leave to go in his fellowship. Ye shall be right welcome, said\nthen Sir Tristram.\nAnd so they took their horses and rode to their ships together, and\nwhen Sir Tristram was in the sea he said: Greet well King Mark and all\nmine enemies, and say them I will come again when I may; and well am I\nrewarded for the fighting with Sir Marhaus, and delivered all this\ncountry from servage; and well am I rewarded for the fetching and costs\nof Queen Isoud out of Ireland, and the danger that I was in first and\nlast, and by the way coming home what danger I had to bring again Queen\nIsoud from the Castle Pluere; and well am I rewarded when I fought with\nSir Bleoberis for Sir Segwarides\u2019 wife; and well am I rewarded when I\nfought with Sir Blamore de Ganis for King Anguish, father unto La Beale\nIsoud; and well am I rewarded when I smote down the good knight, Sir\nLamorak de Galis, at King Mark\u2019s request; and well am I rewarded when I\nfought with the King with the Hundred Knights, and the King of\nNorthgalis, and both these would have put his land in servage, and by\nme they were put to a rebuke; and well am I rewarded for the slaying of\nTauleas, the mighty giant, and many other deeds have I done for him,\nand now have I my warison. And tell King Mark that many noble knights\nof the Table Round have spared the barons of this country for my sake.\nAlso am I not well rewarded when I fought with the good knight Sir\nPalomides and rescued Queen Isoud from him; and at that time King Mark\nsaid afore all his barons I should have been better rewarded. And\nforthwithal he took the sea.\nCHAPTER XXII. How a damosel sought help to help Sir Launcelot against\nthirty knights, and how Sir Tristram fought with them.\nAnd at the next landing, fast by the sea, there met with Sir Tristram\nand with Sir Dinadan, Sir Ector de Maris and Sir Bors de Ganis; and\nthere Sir Ector jousted with Sir Dinadan, and he smote him and his\nhorse down. And then Sir Tristram would have jousted with Sir Bors, and\nSir Bors said that he would not joust with no Cornish knights, for they\nare not called men of worship; and all this was done upon a bridge. And\nwith this came Sir Bleoberis and Sir Driant, and Sir Bleoberis\nproffered to joust with Sir Tristram, and there Sir Tristram smote down\nSir Bleoberis. Then said Sir Bors de Ganis: I wist never Cornish knight\nof so great valour nor so valiant as that knight that beareth the\ntrappings embroidered with crowns. And then Sir Tristram and Sir\nDinadan departed from them into a forest, and there met them a damosel\nthat came for the love of Sir Launcelot to seek after some noble\nknights of King Arthur\u2019s court for to rescue Sir Launcelot. And so Sir\nLauncelot was ordained, for-by the treason of Queen Morgan le Fay to\nhave slain Sir Launcelot, and for that cause she ordained thirty\nknights to lie in await for Sir Launcelot, and this damosel knew this\ntreason. And for this cause the damosel came for to seek noble knights\nto help Sir Launcelot. For that night, or the day after, Sir Launcelot\nshould come where these thirty knights were. And so this damosel met\nwith Sir Bors and Sir Ector and with Sir Driant, and there she told\nthem all four of the treason of Morgan le Fay; and then they promised\nher that they would be nigh where Sir Launcelot should meet with the\nthirty knights. And if so be they set upon him we will do rescues as we\ncan.\nSo the damosel departed, and by adventure the damosel met with Sir\nTristram and with Sir Dinadan, and there the damosel told them all the\ntreason that was ordained for Sir Launcelot. Fair damosel, said Sir\nTristram, bring me to that same place where they should meet with Sir\nLauncelot. Then said Sir Dinadan: What will ye do? it is not for us to\nfight with thirty knights, and wit you well I will not thereof; as to\nmatch one knight two or three is enough an they be men, but for to\nmatch fifteen knights that will I never undertake. Fie for shame, said\nSir Tristram, do but your part. Nay, said Sir Dinadan, I will not\nthereof but if ye will lend me your shield, for ye bear a shield of\nCornwall; and for the cowardice that is named to the knights of\nCornwall, by your shields ye be ever forborne. Nay, said Sir Tristram,\nI will not depart from my shield for her sake that gave it me. But one\nthing, said Sir Tristram, I promise thee, Sir Dinadan, but if thou wilt\npromise me to abide with me, here I shall slay thee, for I desire no\nmore of thee but answer one knight. And if thy heart will not serve\nthee, stand by and look upon me and them. Sir, said Sir Dinadan, I\npromise you to look upon and to do what I may to save myself, but I\nwould I had not met with you.\nSo then anon these thirty knights came fast by these four knights, and\nthey were ware of them, and either of other. And so these thirty\nknights let them pass, for this cause, that they would not wrath them,\nif case be that they had ado with Sir Launcelot; and the four knights\nlet them pass to this intent, that they would see and behold what they\nwould do with Sir Launcelot. And so the thirty knights passed on and\ncame by Sir Tristram and by Sir Dinadan, and then Sir Tristram cried on\nhigh: Lo, here is a knight against you for the love of Sir Launcelot.\nAnd there he slew two with one spear and ten with his sword. And then\ncame in Sir Dinadan and he did passing well, and so of the thirty\nknights there went but ten away, and they fled. All this battle saw Sir\nBors de Ganis and his three fellows, and then they saw well it was the\nsame knight that jousted with them at the bridge; then they took their\nhorses and rode unto Sir Tristram, and praised him and thanked him of\nhis good deeds, and they all desired Sir Tristram to go with them to\ntheir lodging; and he said: Nay, he would not go to no lodging. Then\nthey all four knights prayed him to tell them his name. Fair lords,\nsaid Sir Tristram, as at this time I will not tell you my name.\nCHAPTER XXIII. How Sir Tristram and Sir Dinadan came to a lodging where\nthey must joust with two knights.\nThen Sir Tristram and Sir Dinadan rode forth their way till they came\nto the shepherds and to the herdmen, and there they asked them if they\nknew any lodging or harbour there nigh hand. Forsooth, sirs, said the\nherdmen, hereby is good lodging in a castle; but there is such a custom\nthat there shall no knight be harboured but if he joust with two\nknights, and if he be but one knight he must joust with two. And as ye\nbe therein soon shall ye be matched. There is shrewd harbour, said Sir\nDinadan; lodge where ye will, for I will not lodge there. Fie for\nshame, said Sir Tristram, are ye not a knight of the Table Round?\nwherefore ye may not with your worship refuse your lodging. Not so,\nsaid the herdmen, for an ye be beaten and have the worse ye shall not\nbe lodged there, and if ye beat them ye shall be well harboured. Ah,\nsaid Sir Dinadan, they are two sure knights. Then Sir Dinadan would not\nlodge there in no manner but as Sir Tristram required him of his\nknighthood; and so they rode thither. And to make short tale, Sir\nTristram and Sir Dinadan smote them down both, and so they entered into\nthe castle and had good cheer as they could think or devise.\nAnd when they were unarmed, and thought to be merry and in good rest,\nthere came in at the gates Sir Palomides and Sir Gaheris, requiring to\nhave the custom of the castle. What array is this? said Sir Dinadan, I\nwould have my rest. That may not be, said Sir Tristram; now must we\nneeds defend the custom of this castle, insomuch as we have the better\nof the lords of this castle, and therefore, said Sir Tristram, needs\nmust ye make you ready. In the devil\u2019s name, said Sir Dinadan, came I\ninto your company. And so they made them ready; and Sir Gaheris\nencountered with Sir Tristram, and Sir Gaheris had a fall; and Sir\nPalomides encountered with Sir Dinadan, and Sir Dinadan had a fall:\nthen was it fall for fall. So then must they fight on foot. That would\nnot Sir Dinadan, for he was so sore bruised of the fall that Sir\nPalomides gave him. Then Sir Tristram unlaced Sir Dinadan\u2019s helm, and\nprayed him to help him. I will not, said Sir Dinadan, for I am sore\nwounded of the thirty knights that we had but late ago to do withal.\nBut ye fare, said Sir Dinadan unto Sir Tristram, as a madman and as a\nman that is out of his mind that would cast himself away, and I may\ncurse the time that ever I saw you, for in all the world are not two\nsuch knights that be so wood as is Sir Launcelot and ye Sir Tristram;\nfor once I fell in the fellowship of Sir Launcelot as I have done now\nwith you, and he set me a work that a quarter of a year I kept my bed.\nJesu defend me, said Sir Dinadan, from such two knights, and specially\nfrom your fellowship. Then, said Sir Tristram, I will fight with them\nboth. Then Sir Tristram bade them come forth both, for I will fight\nwith you. Then Sir Palomides and Sir Gaheris dressed them, and smote at\nthem both. Then Dinadan smote at Sir Gaheris a stroke or two, and\nturned from him. Nay, said Sir Palomides, it is too much shame for us\ntwo knights to fight with one. And then he did bid Sir Gaheris stand\naside with that knight that hath no list to fight. Then they rode\ntogether and fought long, and at the last Sir Tristram doubled his\nstrokes, and drove Sir Palomides aback more than three strides. And\nthen by one assent Sir Gaheris and Sir Dinadan went betwixt them, and\ndeparted them in-sunder. And then by assent of Sir Tristram they would\nhave lodged together. But Sir Dinadan would not lodge in that castle.\nAnd then he cursed the time that ever he came in their fellowship, and\nso he took his horse, and his harness, and departed.\nThen Sir Tristram prayed the lords of that castle to lend him a man to\nbring him to a lodging, and so they did, and overtook Sir Dinadan, and\nrode to their lodging two mile thence with a good man in a priory, and\nthere they were well at ease. And that same night Sir Bors and Sir\nBleoberis, and Sir Ector and Sir Driant, abode still in the same place\nthereas Sir Tristram fought with the thirty knights; and there they met\nwith Sir Launcelot the same night, and had made promise to lodge with\nSir Colgrevance the same night.\nCHAPTER XXIV. How Sir Tristram jousted with Sir Kay and Sir Sagramore\nle Desirous, and how Sir Gawaine turned Sir Tristram from Morgan le\nFay.\nBut anon as the noble knight, Sir Launcelot, heard of the shield of\nCornwall, then wist he well that it was Sir Tristram that fought with\nhis enemies. And then Sir Launcelot praised Sir Tristram, and called\nhim the man of most worship in the world. So there was a knight in that\npriory that hight Pellinore, and he desired to wit the name of Sir\nTristram, but in no wise he could not; and so Sir Tristram departed and\nleft Sir Dinadan in the priory, for he was so weary and so sore bruised\nthat he might not ride. Then this knight, Sir Pellinore, said to Sir\nDinadan: Sithen that ye will not tell me that knight\u2019s name I will ride\nafter him and make him to tell me his name, or he shall die therefore.\nBeware, sir knight, said Sir Dinadan, for an ye follow him ye shall\nrepent it. So that knight, Sir Pellinore, rode after Sir Tristram and\nrequired him of jousts. Then Sir Tristram smote him down and wounded\nhim through the shoulder, and so he passed on his way. And on the next\nday following Sir Tristram met with pursuivants, and they told him that\nthere was made a great cry of tournament between King Carados of\nScotland and the King of North Wales, and either should joust against\nother at the Castle of Maidens; and these pursuivants sought all the\ncountry after the good knights, and in especial King Carados let make\nseeking for Sir Launcelot du Lake, and the King of Northgalis let seek\nafter Sir Tristram de Liones. And at that time Sir Tristram thought to\nbe at that jousts; and so by adventure they met with Sir Kay, the\nSeneschal, and Sir Sagramore le Desirous; and Sir Kay required Sir\nTristram to joust, and Sir Tristram in a manner refused him, because he\nwould not be hurt nor bruised against the great jousts that should be\nbefore the Castle of Maidens, and therefore thought to repose him and\nto rest him. And alway Sir Kay cried: Sir knight of Cornwall, joust\nwith me, or else yield thee to me as recreant. When Sir Tristram heard\nhim say so he turned to him, and then Sir Kay refused him and turned\nhis back. Then Sir Tristram said: As I find thee I shall take thee.\nThen Sir Kay turned with evil will, and Sir Tristram smote Sir Kay\ndown, and so he rode forth.\nThen Sir Sagramore le Desirous rode after Sir Tristram, and made him to\njoust with him, and there Sir Tristram smote down Sir Sagramore le\nDesirous from his horse, and rode his way; and the same day he met with\na damosel that told him that he should win great worship of a knight\nadventurous that did much harm in all that country. When Sir Tristram\nheard her say so, he was glad to go with her to win worship. So Sir\nTristram rode with that damosel a six mile, and then met him Sir\nGawaine, and therewithal Sir Gawaine knew the damosel, that she was a\ndamosel of Queen Morgan le Fay. Then Sir Gawaine understood that she\nled that knight to some mischief. Fair knight, said Sir Gawaine,\nwhither ride you now with that damosel? Sir, said Sir Tristram, I wot\nnot whither I shall ride but as the damosel will lead me. Sir, said Sir\nGawaine, ye shall not ride with her, for she and her lady did never\ngood, but ill. And then Sir Gawaine pulled out his sword and said:\nDamosel, but if thou tell me anon for what cause thou leadest this\nknight with thee thou shalt die for it right anon: I know all your\nlady\u2019s treason, and yours. Mercy, Sir Gawaine, she said, and if ye will\nsave my life I will tell you. Say on, said Sir Gawaine, and thou shalt\nhave thy life. Sir, she said, Queen Morgan le Fay, my lady, hath\nordained a thirty ladies to seek and espy after Sir Launcelot or Sir\nTristram, and by the trains of these ladies, who that may first meet\nany of these two knights they should turn them unto Morgan le Fay\u2019s\ncastle, saying that they should do deeds of worship; and if any of the\ntwo knights came there, there be thirty knights lying and watching in a\ntower to wait upon Sir Launcelot or upon Sir Tristram. Fie for shame,\nsaid Sir Gawaine, that ever such false treason should be wrought or\nused in a queen, and a king\u2019s sister, and a king and queen\u2019s daughter.\nCHAPTER XXV. How Sir Tristram and Sir Gawaine rode to have foughten\nwith the thirty knights, but they durst not come out.\nSir, said Sir Gawaine, will ye stand with me, and we will see the\nmalice of these thirty knights. Sir, said Sir Tristram, go ye to them,\nan it please you, and ye shall see I will not fail you, for it is not\nlong ago since I and a fellow met with thirty knights of that queen\u2019s\nfellowship; and God speed us so that we may win worship. So then Sir\nGawaine and Sir Tristram rode toward the castle where Morgan le Fay\nwas, and ever Sir Gawaine deemed well that he was Sir Tristram de\nLiones, because he heard that two knights had slain and beaten thirty\nknights. And when they came afore the castle Sir Gawaine spake on high\nand said: Queen Morgan le Fay, send out your knights that ye have laid\nin a watch for Sir Launcelot and for Sir Tristram. Now, said Sir\nGawaine, I know your false treason, and through all places where that I\nride men shall know of your false treason; and now let see, said Sir\nGawaine, whether ye dare come out of your castle, ye thirty knights.\nThen the queen spake and all the thirty knights at once, and said: Sir\nGawaine, full well wottest thou what thou dost and sayest; for by God\nwe know thee passing well, but all that thou speakest and dost, thou\nsayest it upon pride of that good knight that is there with thee. For\nthere be some of us that know full well the hands of that knight over\nall well. And wit thou well, Sir Gawaine, it is more for his sake than\nfor thine that we will not come out of this castle. For wit ye well,\nSir Gawaine, the knight that beareth the arms of Cornwall, we know him\nand what he is.\nThen Sir Gawaine and Sir Tristram departed and rode on their ways a day\nor two together; and there by adventure, they met with Sir Kay and Sir\nSagramore le Desirous. And then they were glad of Sir Gawaine, and he\nof them, but they wist not what he was with the shield of Cornwall, but\nby deeming. And thus they rode together a day or two. And then they\nwere ware of Sir Breuse Saunce Pit\u00e9 chasing a lady for to have slain\nher, for he had slain her paramour afore. Hold you all still, said Sir\nGawaine, and show none of you forth, and ye shall see me reward yonder\nfalse knight; for an he espy you he is so well horsed that he will\nescape away. And then Sir Gawaine rode betwixt Sir Breuse and the lady,\nand said: False knight, leave her, and have ado with me. When Sir\nBreuse saw no more but Sir Gawaine he feutred his spear, and Sir\nGawaine against him; and there Sir Breuse overthrew Sir Gawaine, and\nthen he rode over him, and overthwart him twenty times to have\ndestroyed him; and when Sir Tristram saw him do so villainous a deed,\nhe hurled out against him. And when Sir Breuse saw him with the shield\nof Cornwall he knew him well that it was Sir Tristram, and then he\nfled, and Sir Tristram followed after him; and Sir Breuse Saunce Pit\u00e9\nwas so horsed that he went his way quite, and Sir Tristram followed him\nlong, for he would fain have been avenged upon him. And so when he had\nlong chased him, he saw a fair well, and thither he rode to repose him,\nand tied his horse till a tree.\nCHAPTER XXVI. How damosel Bragwaine found Tristram sleeping by a well,\nand how she delivered letters to him from La Beale Isoud.\nAnd then he pulled off his helm and washed his visage and his hands,\nand so he fell asleep. In the meanwhile came a damosel that had sought\nSir Tristram many ways and days within this land. And when she came to\nthe well she looked upon him, and had forgotten him as in remembrance\nof Sir Tristram, but by his horse she knew him, that hight Passe-Brewel\nthat had been Sir Tristram\u2019s horse many years. For when he was mad in\nthe forest Sir Fergus kept him. So this lady, Dame Bragwaine, abode\nstill till he was awake. So when she saw him wake she saluted him, and\nhe her again, for either knew other of old acquaintance; then she told\nhim how she had sought him long and broad, and there she told him how\nshe had letters from Queen La Beale Isoud. Then anon Sir Tristram read\nthem, and wit ye well he was glad, for therein was many a piteous\ncomplaint. Then Sir Tristram said: Lady Bragwaine, ye shall ride with\nme till that tournament be done at the Castle of Maidens, and then\nshall bear letters and tidings with you. And then Sir Tristram took his\nhorse and sought lodging, and there he met with a good ancient knight\nand prayed him to lodge with him. Right so came Gouvernail unto Sir\nTristram, that was glad of that lady. So this old knight\u2019s name was Sir\nPellounes, and he told of the great tournament that should be at the\nCastle of Maidens. And there Sir Launcelot and thirty-two knights of\nhis blood had ordained shields of Cornwall. And right so there came one\nunto Sir Pellounes, and told him that Sir Persides de Bloise was come\nhome; then that knight held up his hands and thanked God of his coming\nhome. And there Sir Pellounes told Sir Tristram that in two years he\nhad not seen his son, Sir Persides. Sir, said Sir Tristram, I know your\nson well enough for a good knight.\nSo on a time Sir Tristram and Sir Persides came to their lodging both\nat once, and so they unarmed them, and put upon them their clothing.\nAnd then these two knights each welcomed other. And when Sir Persides\nunderstood that Sir Tristram was of Cornwall, he said he was once in\nCornwall: And there I jousted afore King Mark; and so it happed me at\nthat time to overthrow ten knights, and then came to me Sir Tristram de\nLiones and overthrew me, and took my lady away from me, and that shall\nI never forget, but I shall remember me an ever I see my time. Ah, said\nSir Tristram, now I understand that ye hate Sir Tristram. What deem ye,\nween ye that Sir Tristram is not able to withstand your malice? Yes,\nsaid Sir Persides, I know well that Sir Tristram is a noble knight and\na much better knight than I, yet shall I not owe him my good will.\nRight as they stood thus talking at a bay-window of that castle, they\nsaw many knights riding to and fro toward the tournament. And then was\nSir Tristram ware of a likely knight riding upon a great black horse,\nand a black-covered shield. What knight is that, said Sir Tristram,\nwith the black horse and the black shield? he seemeth a good knight. I\nknow him well, said Sir Persides, he is one of the best knights of the\nworld. Then is it Sir Launcelot, said Tristram. Nay, said Sir Persides,\nit is Sir Palomides, that is yet unchristened.\nCHAPTER XXVII. How Sir Tristram had a fall with Sir Palomides, and how\nLauncelot overthrew two knights.\nThen they saw much people of the country salute Sir Palomides. And\nwithin a while after there came a squire of the castle, that told Sir\nPellounes that was lord of that castle, that a knight with a black\nshield had smitten down thirteen knights. Fair brother, said Sir\nTristram unto Sir Persides, let us cast upon us cloaks, and let us go\nsee the play. Not so, said Sir Persides, we will not go like knaves\nthither, but we will ride like men and good knights to withstand our\nenemies. So they armed them, and took their horses and great spears,\nand thither they went thereas many knights assayed themself before the\ntournament. And anon Sir Palomides saw Sir Persides, and then he sent a\nsquire unto him and said: Go thou to the yonder knight with the green\nshield and therein a lion of gold, and say him I require him to joust\nwith me, and tell him that my name is Sir Palomides. When Sir Persides\nunderstood that request of Sir Palomides, he made him ready, and there\nanon they met together, but Sir Persides had a fall. Then Sir Tristram\ndressed him to be revenged upon Sir Palomides, and that saw Sir\nPalomides that was ready and so was not Sir Tristram, and took him at\nan advantage and smote him over his horse\u2019s tail when he had no spear\nin his rest. Then stert up Sir Tristram and took his horse lightly, and\nwas wroth out of measure, and sore ashamed of that fall. Then Sir\nTristram sent unto Sir Palomides by Gouvernail, and prayed him to joust\nwith him at his request. Nay, said Sir Palomides, as at this time I\nwill not joust with that knight, for I know him better than he weeneth.\nAnd if he be wroth he may right it to-morn at the Castle of Maidens,\nwhere he may see me and many other knights.\nWith that came Sir Dinadan, and when he saw Sir Tristram wroth he list\nnot to jape. Lo, said Sir Dinadan, here may a man prove, be a man never\nso good yet may he have a fall, and he was never so wise but he might\nbe overseen, and he rideth well that never fell. So Sir Tristram was\npassing wroth, and said to Sir Persides and to Sir Dinadan: I will\nrevenge me. Right so as they stood talking there, there came by Sir\nTristram a likely knight riding passing soberly and heavily with a\nblack shield. What knight is that? said Sir Tristram unto Sir Persides.\nI know him well, said Sir Persides, for his name is Sir Briant of North\nWales; so he passed on among other knights of North Wales. And there\ncame in Sir Launcelot du Lake with a shield of the arms of Cornwall,\nand he sent a squire unto Sir Briant, and required him to joust with\nhim. Well, said Sir Briant, sithen I am required to joust I will do\nwhat I may; and there Sir Launcelot smote down Sir Briant from his\nhorse a great fall. And then Sir Tristram marvelled what knight he was\nthat bare the shield of Cornwall. Whatsoever he be, said Sir Dinadan, I\nwarrant you he is of King Ban\u2019s blood, the which be knights of the most\nnoble prowess in the world, for to account so many for so many. Then\nthere came two knights of Northgalis, that one hight Hew de la\nMontaine, and the other Sir Madok de la Montaine, and they challenged\nSir Launcelot foot-hot. Sir Launcelot not refusing them but made him\nready, with one spear he smote them down both over their horses\u2019\ncroups; and so Sir Launcelot rode his way. By the good lord, said Sir\nTristram, he is a good knight that beareth the shield of Cornwall, and\nmeseemeth he rideth in the best manner that ever I saw knight ride.\nThen the King of Northgalis rode unto Sir Palomides and prayed him\nheartily for his sake to joust with that knight that hath done us of\nNorthgalis despite. Sir, said Sir Palomides, I am full loath to have\nado with that knight, and cause why is, for as to-morn the great\ntournament shall be; and therefore I will keep myself fresh by my will.\nNay, said the King of Northgalis, I pray you require him of jousts.\nSir, said Sir Palomides, I will joust at your request, and require that\nknight to joust with me, and often I have seen a man have a fall at his\nown request.\nCHAPTER XXVIII. How Sir Launcelot jousted with Palomides and overthrew\nhim, and after he was assailed with twelve knights.\nThen Sir Palomides sent unto Sir Launcelot a squire, and required him\nof jousts. Fair fellow, said Sir Launcelot, tell me thy lord\u2019s name.\nSir, said the squire, my lord\u2019s name is Sir Palomides, the good knight.\nIn good hour, said Sir Launcelot, for there is no knight that I saw\nthis seven years that I had liefer ado withal than with him. And so\neither knights made them ready with two great spears. Nay, said Sir\nDinadan, ye shall see that Sir Palomides will quit him right well. It\nmay be so, said Sir Tristram, but I undertake that knight with the\nshield of Cornwall shall give him a fall. I believe it not, said Sir\nDinadan. Right so they spurred their horses and feutred their spears,\nand either hit other, and Sir Palomides brake a spear upon Sir\nLauncelot, and he sat and moved not; but Sir Launcelot smote him so\nlightly that he made his horse to avoid the saddle, and the stroke\nbrake his shield and the hauberk, and had he not fallen he had been\nslain. How now, said Sir Tristram, I wist well by the manner of their\nriding both that Sir Palomides should have a fall.\nRight so Sir Launcelot rode his way, and rode to a well to drink and to\nrepose him, and they of Northgalis espied him whither he rode; and then\nthere followed him twelve knights for to have mischieved him, for this\ncause that upon the morn at the tournament of the Castle of Maidens\nthat he should not win the victory. So they came upon Sir Launcelot\nsuddenly, and unnethe he might put upon him his helm and take his\nhorse, but they were in hands with him; and then Sir Launcelot gat his\nspear, and rode through them, and there he slew a knight and brake a\nspear in his body. Then he drew his sword and smote upon the right hand\nand upon the left hand, so that within a few strokes he had slain other\nthree knights, and the remnant that abode he wounded them sore all that\ndid abide. Thus Sir Launcelot escaped from his enemies of North Wales,\nand then Sir Launcelot rode his way till a friend, and lodged him till\non the morn; for he would not the first day have ado in the tournament\nbecause of his great labour. And on the first day he was with King\nArthur thereas he was set on high upon a scaffold to discern who was\nbest worthy of his deeds. So Sir Launcelot was with King Arthur, and\njousted not the first day.\nCHAPTER XXIX. How Sir Tristram behaved him the first day of the\ntournament, and there he had the prize.\nNow turn we unto Sir Tristram de Liones, that commanded Gouvernail, his\nservant, to ordain him a black shield with none other remembrance\ntherein. And so Sir Persides and Sir Tristram departed from their host\nSir Pellounes, and they rode early toward the tournament, and then they\ndrew them to King Carados\u2019 side, of Scotland; and anon knights began\nthe field what of King Northgalis\u2019 part, and what of King Carados\u2019\npart, and there began great party. Then there was hurling and rashing.\nRight so came in Sir Persides and Sir Tristram and so they did fare\nthat they put the King of Northgalis aback. Then came in Sir Bleoberis\nde Ganis and Sir Gaheris with them of Northgalis, and then was Sir\nPersides smitten down and almost slain, for more than forty horse men\nwent over him. For Sir Bleoberis did great deeds of arms, and Sir\nGaheris failed him not. When Sir Tristram beheld them, and saw them do\nsuch deeds of arms, he marvelled what they were. Also Sir Tristram\nthought shame that Sir Persides was so done to; and then he gat a great\nspear in his hand, and then he rode to Sir Gaheris and smote him down\nfrom his horse. And then was Sir Bleoberis wroth, and gat a spear and\nrode against Sir Tristram in great ire; and there Sir Tristram met with\nhim, and smote Sir Bleoberis from his horse. So then the King with the\nHundred Knights was wroth, and he horsed Sir Bleoberis and Sir Gaheris\nagain, and there began a great medley; and ever Sir Tristram held them\npassing short, and ever Sir Bleoberis was passing busy upon Sir\nTristram; and there came Sir Dinadan against Sir Tristram, and Sir\nTristram gave him such a buffet that he swooned in his saddle. Then\nanon Sir Dinadan came to Sir Tristram and said: Sir, I know thee better\nthan thou weenest; but here I promise thee my troth I will never come\nagainst thee more, for I promise thee that sword of thine shall never\ncome on mine helm.\nWith that came Sir Bleoberis, and Sir Tristram gave him such a buffet\nthat down he laid his head; and then he caught him so sore by the helm\nthat he pulled him under his horse\u2019s feet. And then King Arthur blew to\nlodging. Then Sir Tristram departed to his pavilion, and Sir Dinadan\nrode with him; and Sir Persides and King Arthur then, and the kings\nupon both parties, marvelled what knight that was with the black\nshield. Many said their advice, and some knew him for Sir Tristram, and\nheld their peace and would nought say. So that first day King Arthur,\nand all the kings and lords that were judges, gave Sir Tristram the\nprize; howbeit they knew him not, but named him the Knight with the\nBlack Shield.\nCHAPTER XXX. How Sir Tristram returned against King Arthur\u2019s party\nbecause he saw Sir Palomides on that party.\nThen upon the morn Sir Palomides returned from the King of Northgalis,\nand rode to King Arthur\u2019s side, where was King Carados, and the King of\nIreland, and Sir Launcelot\u2019s kin, and Sir Gawaine\u2019s kin. So Sir\nPalomides sent the damosel unto Sir Tristram that he sent to seek him\nwhen he was out of his mind in the forest, and this damosel asked Sir\nTristram what he was and what was his name?\nAs for that, said Sir Tristram, tell Sir Palomides ye shall not wit as\nat this time unto the time I have broken two spears upon him. But let\nhim wit thus much, said Sir Tristram, that I am the same knight that he\nsmote down in over evening at the tournament; and tell him plainly on\nwhat party that Sir Palomides be I will be of the contrary party.\nSir, said the damosel, ye shall understand that Sir Palomides will be\non King Arthur\u2019s side, where the most noble knights of the world be. In\nthe name of God, said Sir Tristram, then will I be with the King of\nNorthgalis, because Sir Palomides will be on King Arthur\u2019s side, and\nelse I would not but for his sake. So when King Arthur was come they\nblew unto the field; and then there began a great party, and so King\nCarados jousted with the King of the Hundred Knights, and there King\nCarados had a fall: then was there hurling and rushing, and right so\ncame in knights of King Arthur\u2019s, and they bare aback the King of\nNorthgalis\u2019 knights.\nThen Sir Tristram came in, and began so roughly and so bigly that there\nwas none might withstand him, and thus Sir Tristram dured long. And at\nthe last Sir Tristram fell among the fellowship of King Ban, and there\nfell upon him Sir Bors de Ganis, and Sir Ector de Maris, and Sir\nBlamore de Ganis, and many other knights. And then Sir Tristram smote\non the right hand and on the left hand, that all lords and ladies spake\nof his noble deeds. But at the last Sir Tristram should have had the\nworse had not the King with the Hundred Knights been. And then he came\nwith his fellowship and rescued Sir Tristram, and brought him away from\nthose knights that bare the shields of Cornwall. And then Sir Tristram\nsaw another fellowship by themself, and there were a forty knights\ntogether, and Sir Kay, the Seneschal, was their governor. Then Sir\nTristram rode in amongst them, and there he smote down Sir Kay from his\nhorse; and there he fared among those knights like a greyhound among\nconies.\nThen Sir Launcelot found a knight that was sore wounded upon the head.\nSir, said Sir Launcelot, who wounded you so sore? Sir, he said, a\nknight that beareth a black shield, and I may curse the time that ever\nI met with him, for he is a devil and no man. So Sir Launcelot departed\nfrom him and thought to meet with Sir Tristram, and so he rode with his\nsword drawn in his hand to seek Sir Tristram; and then he espied him\nhow he hurled here and there, and at every stroke Sir Tristram wellnigh\nsmote down a knight. O mercy Jesu! said the king, sith the times I bare\narms saw I never no knight do so marvellous deeds of arms. And if I\nshould set upon this knight, said Sir Launcelot to himself, I did shame\nto myself, and therewithal Sir Launcelot put up his sword. And then the\nKing with the Hundred Knights and an hundred more of North Wales set\nupon the twenty of Sir Launcelot\u2019s kin: and they twenty knights held\nthem ever together as wild swine, and none would fail other. And so\nwhen Sir Tristram beheld the noblesse of these twenty knights he\nmarvelled of their good deeds, for he saw by their fare and by their\nrule that they had liefer die than avoid the field. Now Jesu, said Sir\nTristram, well may he be valiant and full of prowess that hath such a\nsort of noble knights unto his kin, and full like is he to be a noble\nman that is their leader and governor. He meant it by Sir Launcelot du\nLake. So when Sir Tristram had beholden them long he thought shame to\nsee two hundred knights battering upon twenty knights. Then Sir\nTristram rode unto the King with the Hundred Knights and said: Sir,\nleave your fighting with those twenty knights, for ye win no worship of\nthem, ye be so many and they so few; and wit ye well they will not out\nof the field I see by their cheer and countenance; and worship get ye\nnone an ye slay them. Therefore leave your fighting with them, for I to\nincrease my worship I will ride to the twenty knights and help them\nwith all my might and power. Nay, said the King with the Hundred\nKnights, ye shall not do so; now I see your courage and courtesy I will\nwithdraw my knights for your pleasure, for evermore a good knight will\nfavour another, and like will draw to like.\nCHAPTER XXXI. How Sir Tristram found Palomides by a well, and brought\nhim with him to his lodging.\nThen the King with the Hundred Knights withdrew his knights. And all\nthis while, and long to-fore, Sir Launcelot had watched upon Sir\nTristram with a very purpose to have fellowshipped with him. And then\nsuddenly Sir Tristram, Sir Dinadan, and Gouvernail, his man, rode their\nway into the forest, that no man perceived where they went. So then\nKing Arthur blew unto lodging, and gave the King of Northgalis the\nprize because Sir Tristram was upon his side. Then Sir Launcelot rode\nhere and there, so wood as lion that fauted his fill, because he had\nlost Sir Tristram, and so he returned unto King Arthur. And then in all\nthe field was a noise that with the wind it might be heard two mile\nthence, how the lords and ladies cried: The Knight with the Black\nShield hath won the field. Alas, said King Arthur, where is that knight\nbecome? It is shame to all those in the field so to let him escape away\nfrom you; but with gentleness and courtesy ye might have brought him\nunto me to the Castle of Maidens. Then the noble King Arthur went unto\nhis knights and comforted them in the best wise that he could, and\nsaid: My fair fellows, be not dismayed, howbeit ye have lost the field\nthis day. And many were hurt and sore wounded, and many were whole. My\nfellows, said King Arthur, look that ye be of good cheer, for to-morn I\nwill be in the field with you and revenge you of your enemies. So that\nnight King Arthur and his knights reposed themself.\nThe damosel that came from La Beale Isoud unto Sir Tristram, all the\nwhile the tournament was a-doing she was with Queen Guenever, and ever\nthe queen asked her for what cause she came into that country. Madam,\nshe answered, I come for none other cause but from my lady La Beale\nIsoud to wit of your welfare. For in no wise she would not tell the\nqueen that she came for Sir Tristram\u2019s sake. So this lady, Dame\nBragwaine, took her leave of Queen Guenever, and she rode after Sir\nTristram. And as she rode through the forest she heard a great cry;\nthen she commanded her squire to go into the forest to wit what was\nthat noise. And so he came to a well, and there he found a knight\nbounden till a tree crying as he had been wood, and his horse and his\nharness standing by him. And when he espied that squire, therewith he\nabraid and brake himself loose, and took his sword in his hand, and ran\nto have slain the squire. Then he took his horse and fled all that ever\nhe might unto Dame Bragwaine, and told her of his adventure. Then she\nrode unto Sir Tristram\u2019s pavilion, and told Sir Tristram what adventure\nshe had found in the forest. Alas, said Sir Tristram, upon my head\nthere is some good knight at mischief.\nThen Sir Tristram took his horse and his sword and rode thither, and\nthere he heard how the knight complained unto himself and said: I,\nwoful knight Sir Palomides, what misadventure befalleth me, that thus\nam defoiled with falsehood and treason, through Sir Bors and Sir Ector.\nAlas, he said, why live I so long! And then he gat his sword in his\nhands, and made many strange signs and tokens; and so through his\nraging he threw his sword into that fountain. Then Sir Palomides wailed\nand wrang his hands. And at the last for pure sorrow he ran into that\nfountain, over his belly, and sought after his sword. Then Sir Tristram\nsaw that, and ran upon Sir Palomides, and held him in his arms fast.\nWhat art thou, said Palomides, that holdeth me so? I am a man of this\nforest that would thee none harm. Alas, said Sir Palomides, I may never\nwin worship where Sir Tristram is; for ever where he is an I be there,\nthen get I no worship; and if he be away for the most part I have the\ngree, unless that Sir Launcelot be there or Sir Lamorak. Then Sir\nPalomides said: Once in Ireland Sir Tristram put me to the worse, and\nanother time in Cornwall, and in other places in this land. What would\nye do, said Sir Tristram, an ye had Sir Tristram? I would fight with\nhim, said Sir Palomides, and ease my heart upon him; and yet, to say\nthee sooth, Sir Tristram is the gentlest knight in this world living.\nWhat will ye do, said Sir Tristram, will ye go with me to your lodging?\nNay, said he, I will go to the King with the Hundred Knights, for he\nrescued me from Sir Bors de Ganis and Sir Ector and else had I been\nslain traitorly. Sir Tristram said him such kind words that Sir\nPalomides went with him to his lodging. Then Gouvernail went to-fore,\nand charged Dame Bragwaine to go out of the way to her lodging. And bid\nye Sir Persides that he make him no quarrels. And so they rode together\ntill they came to Sir Tristram\u2019s pavilion, and there Sir Palomides had\nall the cheer that might be had all that night. But in no wise Sir\nPalomides might not know what was Sir Tristram; and so after supper\nthey yede to rest, and Sir Tristram for great travail slept till it was\nday. And Sir Palomides might not sleep for anguish; and in the dawning\nof the day he took his horse privily, and rode his way unto Sir Gaheris\nand unto Sir Sagramore le Desirous, where they were in their pavilions;\nfor they three were fellows at the beginning of the tournament. And\nthen upon the morn the king blew unto the tournament upon the third\nday.\nCHAPTER XXXII. How Sir Tristram smote down Sir Palomides, and how he\njousted with King Arthur, and other feats.\nSo the King of Northgalis and the King with the Hundred Knights, they\ntwo encountered with King Carados and with the King of Ireland; and\nthere the King with the Hundred Knights smote down King Carados, and\nthe King of Northgalis smote down the King of Ireland. With that came\nin Sir Palomides, and when he came he made great work, for by his\nindented shield he was well known. So came in King Arthur, and did\ngreat deeds of arms together, and put the King of Northgalis and the\nKing with the Hundred Knights to the worse. With this came in Sir\nTristram with his black shield, and anon he jousted with Sir Palomides,\nand there by fine force Sir Tristram smote Sir Palomides over his\nhorse\u2019s croup. Then King Arthur cried: Knight with the Black Shield,\nmake thee ready to me, and in the same wise Sir Tristram smote King\nArthur. And then by force of King Arthur\u2019s knights the King and Sir\nPalomides were horsed again. Then King Arthur with a great eager heart\nhe gat a spear in his hand, and there upon the one side he smote Sir\nTristram over his horse. Then foot-hot Sir Palomides came upon Sir\nTristram, as he was upon foot, to have overridden him. Then Sir\nTristram was ware of him, and there he stooped aside, and with great\nire he gat him by the arm, and pulled him down from his horse. Then Sir\nPalomides lightly arose, and then they dashed together mightily with\ntheir swords; and many kings, queens, and lords, stood and beheld them.\nAnd at the last Sir Tristram smote Sir Palomides upon the helm three\nmighty strokes, and at every stroke that he gave him he said: This for\nSir Tristram\u2019s sake. With that Sir Palomides fell to the earth\ngrovelling.\nThen came the King with the Hundred Knights, and brought Sir Tristram\nan horse, and so was he horsed again. By then was Sir Palomides horsed,\nand with great ire he jousted upon Sir Tristram with his spear as it\nwas in the rest, and gave him a great dash with his sword. Then Sir\nTristram avoided his spear, and gat him by the neck with his both\nhands, and pulled him clean out of his saddle, and so he bare him afore\nhim the length of ten spears, and then in the presence of them all he\nlet him fall at his adventure. Then Sir Tristram was ware of King\nArthur with a naked sword in his hand, and with his spear Sir Tristram\nran upon King Arthur; and then King Arthur boldly abode him and with\nhis sword he smote a-two his spear, and therewithal Sir Tristram\nstonied; and so King Arthur gave him three or four strokes or he might\nget out his sword, and at the last Sir Tristram drew his sword and\n[either] assailed other passing hard. With that the great press\ndeparted [them]. Then Sir Tristram rode here and there and did his\ngreat pain, that eleven of the good knights of the blood of King Ban,\nthat was of Sir Launcelot\u2019s kin, that day Sir Tristram smote down; that\nall the estates marvelled of his great deeds and all cried upon the\nKnight with the Black Shield.\nCHAPTER XXXIII. How Sir Launcelot hurt Sir Tristram, and how after Sir\nTristram smote down Sir Palomides.\nThen this cry was so large that Sir Launcelot heard it. And then he gat\na great spear in his hand and came towards the cry. Then Sir Launcelot\ncried: The Knight with the Black Shield, make thee ready to joust with\nme. When Sir Tristram heard him say so he gat his spear in his hand,\nand either abashed down their heads, and came together as thunder; and\nSir Tristram\u2019s spear brake in pieces, and Sir Launcelot by malfortune\nstruck Sir Tristram on the side a deep wound nigh to the death; but yet\nSir Tristram avoided not his saddle, and so the spear brake.\nTherewithal Sir Tristram that was wounded gat out his sword, and he\nrushed to Sir Launcelot, and gave him three great strokes upon the helm\nthat the fire sprang thereout, and Sir Launcelot abashed his head lowly\ntoward his saddle-bow. And therewithal Sir Tristram departed from the\nfield, for he felt him so wounded that he weened he should have died;\nand Sir Dinadan espied him and followed him into the forest. Then Sir\nLauncelot abode and did many marvellous deeds.\nSo when Sir Tristram was departed by the forest\u2019s side he alighted, and\nunlaced his harness and freshed his wound; then weened Sir Dinadan that\nhe should have died. Nay, nay, said Sir Tristram, Dinadan never dread\nthee, for I am heart-whole, and of this wound I shall soon be whole, by\nthe mercy of God. By that Sir Dinadan was ware where came Palomides\nriding straight upon them. And then Sir Tristram was ware that Sir\nPalomides came to have destroyed him. And so Sir Dinadan gave him\nwarning, and said: Sir Tristram, my lord, ye are so sore wounded that\nye may not have ado with him, therefore I will ride against him and do\nto him what I may, and if I be slain ye may pray for my soul; and in\nthe meanwhile ye may withdraw you and go into the castle, or in the\nforest, that he shall not meet with you. Sir Tristram smiled and said:\nI thank you, Sir Dinadan, of your good will, but ye shall wit that I am\nable to handle him. And then anon hastily he armed him, and took his\nhorse, and a great spear in his hand, and said to Sir Dinadan: Adieu;\nand rode toward Sir Palomides a soft pace. Then when Sir Palomides saw\nthat, he made countenance to amend his horse, but he did it for this\ncause, for he abode Sir Gaheris that came after him. And when he was\ncome he rode toward Sir Tristram. Then Sir Tristram sent unto Sir\nPalomides, and required him to joust with him; and if he smote down Sir\nPalomides he would do no more to him; and if it so happened that Sir\nPalomides smote down Sir Tristram, he bade him do his utterance. So\nthey were accorded. Then they met together, and Sir Tristram smote down\nSir Palomides that he had a grievous fall, so that he lay still as he\nhad been dead. And then Sir Tristram ran upon Sir Gaheris, and he would\nnot have jousted; but whether he would or not Sir Tristram smote him\nover his horse\u2019s croup, that he lay still as though he had been dead.\nAnd then Sir Tristram rode his way and left Sir Persides\u2019 squire within\nthe pavilions, and Sir Tristram and Sir Dinadan rode to an old knight\u2019s\nplace to lodge them. And that old knight had five sons at the\ntournament, for whom he prayed God heartily for their coming home. And\nso, as the French book saith, they came home all five well beaten.\nAnd when Sir Tristram departed into the forest Sir Launcelot held alway\nthe stour like hard, as a man araged that took no heed to himself, and\nwit ye well there was many a noble knight against him. And when King\nArthur saw Sir Launcelot do so marvellous deeds of arms he then armed\nhim, and took his horse and his armour, and rode into the field to help\nSir Launcelot; and so many knights came in with King Arthur. And to\nmake short tale in conclusion, the King of Northgalis and the King of\nthe Hundred Knights were put to the worse; and because Sir Launcelot\nabode and was the last in the field the prize was given him. But Sir\nLauncelot would neither for king, queen, nor knight, have the prize,\nbut where the cry was cried through the field: Sir Launcelot, Sir\nLauncelot hath won the field this day, Sir Launcelot let make another\ncry contrary: Sir Tristram hath won the field, for he began first, and\nlast he hath endured, and so hath he done the first day, the second,\nand the third day.\nCHAPTER XXXIV. How the prize of the third day was given to Sir\nLauncelot, and Sir Launcelot gave it to Sir Tristram.\nThen all the estates and degrees high and low said of Sir Launcelot\ngreat worship, for the honour that he did unto Sir Tristram; and for\nthat honour doing to Sir Tristram he was at that time more praised and\nrenowned than an he had overthrown five hundred knights; and all the\npeople wholly for this gentleness, first the estates both high and low,\nand after the commonalty cried at once: Sir Launcelot hath won the\nfield whosoever say nay. Then was Sir Launcelot wroth and ashamed, and\nso therewithal he rode to King Arthur. Alas, said the king, we are all\ndismayed that Sir Tristram is thus departed from us. By God, said King\nArthur, he is one of the noblest knights that ever I saw hold spear or\nsword in hand, and the most courteoust knight in his fighting; for full\nhard I saw him, said King Arthur, when he smote Sir Palomides upon the\nhelm thrice, that he abashed his helm with his strokes, and also he\nsaid: Here is a stroke for Sir Tristram, and thus thrice he said. Then\nKing Arthur, Sir Launcelot, and Sir Dodinas le Savage took their horses\nto seek Sir Tristram, and by the means of Sir Persides he had told King\nArthur where Sir Tristram was in his pavilion. But when they came\nthere, Sir Tristram and Sir Dinadan were gone.\nThen King Arthur and Sir Launcelot were heavy, and returned again to\nthe Castle of Maidens making great dole for the hurt of Sir Tristram,\nand his sudden departing. So God me help, said King Arthur, I am more\nheavy that I cannot meet with him than for all the hurts that all my\nknights have had at the tournament. Right so came Sir Gaheris and told\nKing Arthur how Sir Tristram had smitten down Sir Palomides, and it was\nat Sir Palomides\u2019 own request. Alas, said King Arthur, that was great\ndishonour to Sir Palomides, inasmuch as Sir Tristram was sore wounded,\nand now may we all, kings, and knights, and men of worship, say that\nSir Tristram may be called a noble knight, and one of the best knights\nthat ever I saw the days of my life. For I will that ye all, kings and\nknights, know, said King Arthur, that I never saw knight do so\nmarvellously as he hath done these three days; for he was the first\nthat began and that longest held on, save this last day. And though he\nwas hurt, it was a manly adventure of two noble knights, and when two\nnoble men encounter needs must the one have the worse, like as God will\nsuffer at that time. As for me, said Sir Launcelot, for all the lands\nthat ever my father left me I would not have hurt Sir Tristram an I had\nknown him at that time; that I hurt him was for I saw not his shield.\nFor an I had seen his black shield, I would not have meddled with him\nfor many causes; for late he did as much for me as ever did knight, and\nthat is well known that he had ado with thirty knights, and no help\nsave Sir Dinadan. And one thing shall I promise, said Sir Launcelot,\nSir Palomides shall repent it as in his unkindly dealing for to follow\nthat noble knight that I by mishap hurted thus. Sir Launcelot said all\nthe worship that might be said by Sir Tristram. Then King Arthur made a\ngreat feast to all that would come. And thus we let pass King Arthur,\nand a little we will turn unto Sir Palomides, that after he had a fall\nof Sir Tristram, he was nigh-hand araged out of his wit for despite of\nSir Tristram. And so he followed him by adventure. And as he came by a\nriver, in his woodness he would have made his horse to have leapt over;\nand the horse failed footing and fell in the river, wherefore Sir\nPalomides was adread lest he should have been drowned; and then he\navoided his horse, and swam to the land, and let his horse go down by\nadventure.\nCHAPTER XXXV. How Palomides came to the castle where Sir Tristram was,\nand of the quest that Sir Launcelot and ten knights made for Sir\nTristram.\nAnd when he came to the land he took off his harness, and sat roaring\nand crying as a man out of his mind. Right so came a damosel even by\nSir Palomides, that was sent from Sir Gawaine and his brother unto Sir\nMordred, that lay sick in the same place with that old knight where Sir\nTristram was. For, as the French book saith, Sir Persides hurt so Sir\nMordred a ten days afore; and had it not been for the love of Sir\nGawaine and his brother, Sir Persides had slain Sir Mordred. And so\nthis damosel came by Sir Palomides, and she and he had language\ntogether, the which pleased neither of them; and so the damosel rode\nher ways till she came to the old knight\u2019s place, and there she told\nthat old knight how she met with the woodest knight by adventure that\never she met withal. What bare he in his shield? said Sir Tristram. It\nwas indented with white and black, said the damosel. Ah, said Sir\nTristram, that was Sir Palomides, the good knight. For well I know him,\nsaid Sir Tristram, for one of the best knights living in this realm.\nThen that old knight took a little hackney, and rode for Sir Palomides,\nand brought him unto his own manor; and full well knew Sir Tristram Sir\nPalomides, but he said but little, for at that time Sir Tristram was\nwalking upon his feet, and well amended of his hurts; and always when\nSir Palomides saw Sir Tristram he would behold him full marvellously,\nand ever him seemed that he had seen him. Then would he say unto Sir\nDinadan: An ever I may meet with Sir Tristram he shall not escape mine\nhands. I marvel, said Sir Dinadan, that ye boast behind Sir Tristram,\nfor it is but late that he was in your hands, and ye in his hands; why\nwould ye not hold him when ye had him? for I saw myself twice or thrice\nthat ye gat but little worship of Sir Tristram. Then was Sir Palomides\nashamed. So leave we them a little while in the old castle with the old\nknight Sir Darras.\nNow shall we speak of King Arthur, that said to Sir Launcelot: Had not\nye been we had not lost Sir Tristram, for he was here daily unto the\ntime ye met with him, and in an evil time, said Arthur, ye encountered\nwith him. My lord Arthur, said Launcelot, ye put upon me that I should\nbe cause of his departition; God knoweth it was against my will. But\nwhen men be hot in deeds of arms oft they hurt their friends as well as\ntheir foes. And my lord, said Sir Launcelot, ye shall understand that\nSir Tristram is a man that I am loath to offend, for he hath done for\nme more than ever I did for him as yet. But then Sir Launcelot made\nbring forth a book: and then Sir Launcelot said: Here we are ten\nknights that will swear upon a book never to rest one night where we\nrest another this twelvemonth until that we find Sir Tristram. And as\nfor me, said Sir Launcelot, I promise you upon this book that an I may\nmeet with him, either with fairness or foulness I shall bring him to\nthis court, or else I shall die therefore. And the names of these ten\nknights that had undertaken this quest were these following: First was\nSir Launcelot, Sir Ector de Maris, Sir Bors de Ganis, and Bleoberis,\nand Sir Blamore de Ganis, and Lucan the Butler, Sir Uwaine, Sir Galihud\nLionel, and Galiodin. So these ten noble knights departed from the\ncourt of King Arthur, and so they rode upon their quest together until\nthey came to a cross where departed four ways, and there departed the\nfellowship in four to seek Sir Tristram.\nAnd as Sir Launcelot rode by adventure he met with Dame Bragwaine that\nwas sent into that country to seek Sir Tristram, and she fled as fast\nas her palfrey might go. So Sir Launcelot met with her and asked her\nwhy she fled. Ah, fair knight, said Dame Bragwaine, I flee for dread of\nmy life, for here followeth me Sir Breuse Saunce Pit\u00e9 to slay me. Hold\nyou nigh me, said Sir Launcelot. Then when Sir Launcelot saw Sir Breuse\nSaunce Pit\u00e9, Sir Launcelot cried unto him, and said: False knight,\ndestroyer of ladies and damosels, now thy last days be come. When Sir\nBreuse Saunce Pit\u00e9 saw Sir Launcelot\u2019s shield he knew it well, for at\nthat time he bare not the arms of Cornwall, but he bare his own shield.\nAnd then Sir Breuse fled, and Sir Launcelot followed after him. But Sir\nBreuse was so well horsed that when him list to flee he might well\nflee, and also abide when him list. And then Sir Launcelot returned\nunto Dame Bragwaine, and she thanked him of his great labour.\nCHAPTER XXXVI. How Sir Tristram, Sir Palomides, and Sir Dinadan were\ntaken and put in prison.\nNow will we speak of Sir Lucan the butler, that by fortune he came\nriding to the same place thereas was Sir Tristram, and in he came in\nnone other intent but to ask harbour. Then the porter asked what was\nhis name. Tell your lord that my name is Sir Lucan, the butler, a\nKnight of the Round Table. So the porter went unto Sir Darras, lord of\nthe place, and told him who was there to ask harbour. Nay, nay, said\nSir Daname, that was nephew to Sir Darras, say him that he shall not be\nlodged here, but let him wit that I, Sir Daname, will meet with him\nanon, and bid him make him ready. So Sir Daname came forth on\nhorseback, and there they met together with spears, and Sir Lucan smote\ndown Sir Daname over his horse\u2019s croup, and then he fled into that\nplace, and Sir Lucan rode after him, and asked after him many times.\nThen Sir Dinadan said to Sir Tristram: It is shame to see the lord\u2019s\ncousin of this place defoiled. Abide, said Sir Tristram, and I shall\nredress it. And in the meanwhile Sir Dinadan was on horseback, and he\njousted with Lucan the butler, and there Sir Lucan smote Dinadan\nthrough the thick of the thigh, and so he rode his way; and Sir\nTristram was wroth that Sir Dinadan was hurt, and followed after, and\nthought to avenge him; and within a while he overtook Sir Lucan, and\nbade him turn; and so they met together so that Sir Tristram hurt Sir\nLucan passing sore and gave him a fall. With that came Sir Uwaine, a\ngentle knight, and when he saw Sir Lucan so hurt he called Sir Tristram\nto joust with him. Fair knight, said Sir Tristram, tell me your name I\nrequire you. Sir knight, wit ye well my name is Sir Uwaine le Fise de\nRoy Ureine. Ah, said Sir Tristram, by my will I would not have ado with\nyou at no time. Ye shall not so, said Sir Uwaine, but ye shall have ado\nwith me. And then Sir Tristram saw none other bote, but rode against\nhim, and overthrew Sir Uwaine and hurt him in the side, and so he\ndeparted unto his lodging again. And when Sir Dinadan understood that\nSir Tristram had hurt Sir Lucan he would have ridden after Sir Lucan\nfor to have slain him, but Sir Tristram would not suffer him. Then Sir\nUwaine let ordain an horse litter, and brought Sir Lucan to the abbey\nof Ganis, and the castle thereby hight the Castle of Ganis, of the\nwhich Sir Bleoberis was lord. And at that castle Sir Launcelot promised\nall his fellows to meet in the quest of Sir Tristram.\nSo when Sir Tristram was come to his lodging there came a damosel that\ntold Sir Darras that three of his sons were slain at that tournament,\nand two grievously wounded that they were never like to help themself.\nAnd all this was done by a noble knight that bare the black shield, and\nthat was he that bare the prize. Then came there one and told Sir\nDarras that the same knight was within, him that bare the black shield.\nThen Sir Darras yede unto Sir Tristram\u2019s chamber, and there he found\nhis shield and showed it to the damosel. Ah sir, said the damosel, that\nsame is he that slew your three sons. Then without any tarrying Sir\nDarras put Sir Tristram, and Sir Palomides, and Sir Dinadan, within a\nstrong prison, and there Sir Tristram was like to have died of great\nsickness; and every day Sir Palomides would reprove Sir Tristram of old\nhate betwixt them. And ever Sir Tristram spake fair and said little.\nBut when Sir Palomides saw the falling of sickness of Sir Tristram,\nthen was he heavy for him, and comforted him in all the best wise he\ncould. And as the French book saith, there came forty knights to Sir\nDarras that were of his own kin, and they would have slain Sir Tristram\nand his two fellows, but Sir Darras would not suffer that, but kept\nthem in prison, and meat and drink they had. So Sir Tristram endured\nthere great pain, for sickness had undertaken him, and that is the\ngreatest pain a prisoner may have. For all the while a prisoner may\nhave his health of body he may endure under the mercy of God and in\nhope of good deliverance; but when sickness toucheth a prisoner\u2019s body,\nthen may a prisoner say all wealth is him bereft, and then he hath\ncause to wail and to weep. Right so did Sir Tristram when sickness had\nundertaken him, for then he took such sorrow that he had almost slain\nhimself.\nCHAPTER XXXVII. How King Mark was sorry for the good renown of Sir\nTristram. Some of King Arthur\u2019s knights jousted with knights of\nCornwall.\nNow will we speak, and leave Sir Tristram, Sir Palomides, and Sir\nDinadan in prison, and speak we of other knights that sought after Sir\nTristram many divers parts of this land. And some yede into Cornwall;\nand by adventure Sir Gaheris, nephew unto King Arthur, came unto King\nMark, and there he was well received and sat at King Mark\u2019s own table\nand ate of his own mess. Then King Mark asked Sir Gaheris what tidings\nthere were in the realm of Logris. Sir, said Sir Gaheris, the king\nreigneth as a noble knight; and now but late there was a great jousts\nand tournament as ever I saw any in the realm of Logris, and the most\nnoble knights were at that jousts. But there was one knight that did\nmarvellously three days, and he bare a black shield, and of all knights\nthat ever I saw he proved the best knight. Then, said King Mark, that\nwas Sir Launcelot, or Sir Palomides the paynim. Not so, said Sir\nGheris, for both Sir Launcelot and Sir Palomides were on the contrary\nparty against the Knight with the Black Shield. Then was it Sir\nTristram, said the king. Yea, said Sir Gaheris. And therewithal the\nking smote down his head, and in his heart he feared sore that Sir\nTristram should get him such worship in the realm of Logris\nwherethrough that he himself should not be able to withstand him. Thus\nSir Gaheris had great cheer with King Mark, and with Queen La Beale\nIsoud, the which was glad of Sir Gaheris\u2019 words; for well she wist by\nhis deeds and manners that it was Sir Tristram. And then the king made\na feast royal, and to that feast came Sir Uwaine le Fise de Roy Ureine,\nand some called him Uwaine le Blanchemains. And this Sir Uwaine\nchallenged all the knights of Cornwall. Then was the king wood wroth\nthat he had no knights to answer him. Then Sir Andred, nephew unto King\nMark, leapt up and said: I will encounter with Sir Uwaine. Then he yede\nand armed him and horsed him in the best manner. And there Sir Uwaine\nmet with Sir Andred, and smote him down that he swooned on the earth.\nThen was King Mark sorry and wroth out of measure that he had no knight\nto revenge his nephew, Sir Andred.\nSo the king called unto him Sir Dinas, the Seneschal, and prayed him\nfor his sake to take upon him to joust with Sir Uwaine. Sir, said Sir\nDinas, I am full loath to have ado with any knight of the Round Table.\nYet, said the king, for my love take upon thee to joust. So Sir Dinas\nmade him ready, and anon they encountered together with great spears,\nbut Sir Dinas was overthrown, horse and man, a great fall. Who was\nwroth but King Mark! Alas, he said, have I no knight that will\nencounter with yonder knight? Sir, said Sir Gaheris, for your sake I\nwill joust. So Sir Gaheris made him ready, and when he was armed he\nrode into the field. And when Sir Uwaine saw Sir Gaheris\u2019 shield he\nrode to him and said: Sir, ye do not your part. For, sir, the first\ntime ye were made Knight of the Round Table ye sware that ye should not\nhave ado with your fellowship wittingly. And pardie, Sir Gaheris, ye\nknew me well enough by my shield, and so do I know you by your shield,\nand though ye would break your oath I would not break mine; for there\nis not one here, nor ye, that shall think I am afeard of you, but I\ndurst right well have ado with you, and yet we be sisters\u2019 sons. Then\nwas Sir Gaheris ashamed, and so therewithal every knight went their\nway, and Sir Uwaine rode into the country.\nThen King Mark armed him, and took his horse and his spear, with a\nsquire with him. And then he rode afore Sir Uwaine, and suddenly at a\ngap he ran upon him as he that was not ware of him, and there he smote\nhim almost through the body, and there left him. So within a while\nthere came Sir Kay and found Sir Uwaine, and asked him how he was hurt.\nI wot not, said Sir Uwaine, why nor wherefore, but by treason I am sure\nI gat this hurt; for here came a knight suddenly upon me or that I was\nware, and suddenly hurt me. Then there was come Sir Andred to seek King\nMark. Thou traitor knight, said Sir Kay, an I wist it were thou that\nthus traitorly hast hurt this noble knight thou shouldst never pass my\nhands. Sir, said Sir Andred, I did never hurt him, and that I will\nreport me to himself. Fie on you false knight, said Sir Kay, for ye of\nCornwall are nought worth. So Sir Kay made carry Sir Uwaine to the\nAbbey of the Black Cross, and there he was healed. And then Sir Gaheris\ntook his leave of King Mark, but or he departed he said: Sir king, ye\ndid a foul shame unto you and your court, when ye banished Sir Tristram\nout of this country, for ye needed not to have doubted no knight an he\nhad been here. And so he departed.\nCHAPTER XXVIII. Of the treason of King Mark, and how Sir Gaheris smote\nhim down and Andred his cousin.\nThen there came Sir Kay, the Seneschal, unto King Mark, and there he\nhad good cheer showing outward. Now, fair lords, said he, will ye prove\nany adventure in the forest of Morris, in the which I know well is as\nhard an adventure as I know any. Sir, said Sir Kay, I will prove it.\nAnd Sir Gaheris said he would be avised for King Mark was ever full of\ntreason: and therewithal Sir Gaheris departed and rode his way. And by\nthe same way that Sir Kay should ride he laid him down to rest,\ncharging his squire to wait upon Sir Kay; And warn me when he cometh.\nSo within a while Sir Kay came riding that way, and then Sir Gaheris\ntook his horse and met him, and said: Sir Kay, ye are not wise to ride\nat the request of King Mark, for he dealeth all with treason. Then said\nSir Kay: I require you let us prove this adventure. I shall not fail\nyou, said Sir Gaheris. And so they rode that time till a lake that was\nthat time called the Perilous Lake, and there they abode under the shaw\nof the wood.\nThe meanwhile King Mark within the castle of Tintagil avoided all his\nbarons, and all other save such as were privy with him were avoided out\nof his chamber. And then he let call his nephew Sir Andred, and bade\narm him and horse him lightly; and by that time it was midnight. And so\nKing Mark was armed in black, horse and all; and so at a privy postern\nthey two issued out with their varlets with them, and rode till they\ncame to that lake. Then Sir Kay espied them first, and gat his spear,\nand proffered to joust. And King Mark rode against him, and smote each\nother full hard, for the moon shone as the bright day. And there at\nthat jousts Sir Kay\u2019s horse fell down, for his horse was not so big as\nthe king\u2019s horse, and Sir Kay\u2019s horse bruised him full sore. Then Sir\nGaheris was wroth that Sir Kay had a fall. Then he cried: Knight, sit\nthou fast in thy saddle, for I will revenge my fellow. Then King Mark\nwas afeard of Sir Gaheris, and so with evil will King Mark rode against\nhim, and Sir Gaheris gave him such a stroke that he fell down. So then\nforthwithal Sir Gaheris ran unto Sir Andred and smote him from his\nhorse quite, that his helm smote in the earth, and nigh had broken his\nneck. And therewithal Sir Gaheris alighted, and gat up Sir Kay. And\nthen they yode both on foot to them, and bade them yield them, and tell\ntheir names outher they should die. Then with great pain Sir Andred\nspake first, and said: It is King Mark of Cornwall, therefore be ye\nware what ye do, and I am Sir Andred, his cousin. Fie on you both, said\nSir Gaheris, for a false traitor, and false treason hast thou wrought\nand he both, under the feigned cheer that ye made us! it were pity,\nsaid Sir Gaheris, that thou shouldst live any longer. Save my life,\nsaid King Mark, and I will make amends; and consider that I am a king\nanointed. It were the more shame, said Sir Gaheris, to save thy life;\nthou art a king anointed with cream, and therefore thou shouldst hold\nwith all men of worship; and therefore thou art worthy to die. With\nthat he lashed at King Mark without saying any more, and covered him\nwith his shield and defended him as he might. And then Sir Kay lashed\nat Sir Andred, and therewithal King Mark yielded him unto Sir Gaheris.\nAnd then he kneeled adown, and made his oath upon the cross of the\nsword, that never while he lived he would be against errant-knights.\nAnd also he sware to be good friend unto Sir Tristram if ever he came\ninto Cornwall.\nBy then Sir Andred was on the earth, and Sir Kay would have slain him.\nLet be, said Sir Gaheris, slay him not I pray you. It were pity, said\nSir Kay, that he should live any longer, for this is nigh cousin unto\nSir Tristram, and ever he hath been a traitor unto him, and by him he\nwas exiled out of Cornwall, and therefore I will slay him, said Sir\nKay. Ye shall not, said Sir Gaheris; sithen I have given the king his\nlife, I pray you give him his life. And therewithal Sir Kay let him go.\nAnd so Sir Kay and Sir Gaheris rode their way unto Dinas, the\nSeneschal, for because they heard say that he loved well Sir Tristram.\nSo they reposed them there, and soon after they rode unto the realm of\nLogris. And so within a little while they met with Sir Launcelot that\nalways had Dame Bragwaine with him, to that intent he weened to have\nmet the sooner with Sir Tristram; and Sir Launcelot asked what tidings\nin Cornwall, and whether they heard of Sir Tristram or not. Sir Kay and\nSir Gaheris answered and said, that they heard not of him. Then they\ntold Sir Launcelot word by word of their adventure. Then Sir Launcelot\nsmiled and said: Hard it is to take out of the flesh that is bred in\nthe bone; and so made them merry together.\nCHAPTER XIX. How after that Sir Tristram, Sir Palomides, and Sir\nDinadan had been long in prison they were delivered.\nNow leave we off this tale, and speak we of Sir Dinas that had within\nthe castle a paramour, and she loved another knight better than him.\nAnd so when Sir Dinas went out a-hunting she slipped down by a towel,\nand took with her two brachets, and so she yede to the knight that she\nloved, and he her again. And when Sir Dinas came home and missed his\nparamour and his brachets, then was he the more wrother for his\nbrachets than for the lady. So then he rode after the knight that had\nhis paramour, and bade him turn and joust. So Sir Dinas smote him down,\nthat with the fall he brake his leg and his arm. And then his lady and\nparamour cried Sir Dinas mercy, and said she would love him better than\never she did. Nay, said Sir Dinas, I shall never trust them that once\nbetrayed me, and therefore, as ye have begun, so end, for I will never\nmeddle with you. And so Sir Dinas departed, and took his brachets with\nhim, and so rode to his castle.\nNow will we turn unto Sir Launcelot, that was right heavy that he could\nnever hear no tidings of Sir Tristram, for all this while he was in\nprison with Sir Darras, Palomides, and Dinadan. Then Dame Bragwaine\ntook her leave to go into Cornwall, and Sir Launcelot, Sir Kay, and Sir\nGaheris rode to seek Sir Tristram in the country of Surluse.\nNow speaketh this tale of Sir Tristram and of his two fellows, for\nevery day Sir Palomides brawled and said language against Sir Tristram.\nI marvel, said Sir Dinadan, of thee, Sir Palomides, an thou haddest Sir\nTristram here thou wouldst do him no harm; for an a wolf and a sheep\nwere together in a prison the wolf would suffer the sheep to be in\npeace. And wit thou well, said Sir Dinadan, this same is Sir Tristram\nat a word, and now must thou do thy best with him, and let see now if\nye can skift it with your hands. Then was Sir Palomides abashed and\nsaid little. Sir Palomides, then said Sir Tristram, I have heard much\nof your maugre against me, but I will not meddle with you as at this\ntime by my will, because I dread the lord of this place that hath us in\ngovernance; for an I dread him not more than I do thee, soon it should\nbe skift: so they peaced themself. Right so came in a damosel and said:\nKnights, be of good cheer, for ye are sure of your lives, and that I\nheard say my lord, Sir Darras. Then were they glad all three, for daily\nthey weened they should have died.\nThen soon after this Sir Tristram fell sick that he weened to have\ndied; then Sir Dinadan wept, and so did Sir Palomides under them both\nmaking great sorrow. So a damosel came in to them and found them\nmourning. Then she went unto Sir Darras, and told him how that mighty\nknight that bare the black shield was likely to die. That shall not be,\nsaid Sir Darras, for God defend when knights come to me for succour\nthat I should suffer them to die within my prison. Therefore, said Sir\nDarras to the damosel, fetch that knight and his fellows afore me. And\nthen anon Sir Darras saw Sir Tristram brought afore him. He said: Sir\nknight, me repenteth of thy sickness for thou art called a full noble\nknight, and so it seemeth by thee; and wit ye well it shall never be\nsaid that Sir Darras shall destroy such a noble knight as thou art in\nprison, howbeit that thou hast slain three of my sons whereby I was\ngreatly aggrieved. But now shalt thou go and thy fellows, and your\nharness and horses have been fair and clean kept, and ye shall go where\nit liketh you, upon this covenant, that thou, knight, wilt promise me\nto be good friend to my sons two that be now alive, and also that thou\ntell me thy name. Sir, said he, as for me my name is Sir Tristram de\nLiones, and in Cornwall was I born, and nephew I am unto King Mark. And\nas for the death of your sons I might not do withal, for an they had\nbeen the next kin that I have I might have done none otherwise. And if\nI had slain them by treason or treachery I had been worthy to have\ndied. All this I consider, said Sir Darras, that all that ye did was by\nforce of knighthood, and that was the cause I would not put you to\ndeath. But sith ye be Sir Tristram, the good knight, I pray you\nheartily to be my good friend and to my sons. Sir, said Sir Tristram, I\npromise you by the faith of my body, ever while I live I will do you\nservice, for ye have done to us but as a natural knight ought to do.\nThen Sir Tristram reposed him there till that he was amended of his\nsickness; and when he was big and strong they took their leave, and\nevery knight took their horses, and so departed and rode together till\nthey came to a cross way. Now fellows, said Sir Tristram, here will we\ndepart in sundry ways. And because Sir Dinadan had the first adventure\nof him I will begin.\nCHAPTER XL. How Sir Dinadan rescued a lady from Sir Breuse Saunce Pit\u00e9,\nand how Sir Tristram received a shield of Morgan le Fay.\nSo as Sir Dinadan rode by a well he found a lady making great dole.\nWhat aileth you? said Sir Dinadan. Sir knight, said the lady, I am the\nwofullest lady of the world, for within these five days here came a\nknight called Sir Breuse Saunce Pit\u00e9, and he slew mine own brother, and\never since he hath kept me at his own will, and of all men in the world\nI hate him most; and therefore I require you of knighthood to avenge\nme, for he will not tarry, but be here anon. Let him come, said Sir\nDinadan, and because of honour of all women I will do my part. With\nthis came Sir Breuse, and when he saw a knight with his lady he was\nwood wroth. And then he said: Sir knight, keep thee from me. So they\nhurtled together as thunder, and either smote other passing sore, but\nSir Dinadan put him through the shoulder a grievous wound, and or ever\nSir Dinadan might turn him Sir Breuse was gone and fled. Then the lady\nprayed him to bring her to a castle there beside but four mile thence;\nand so Sir Dinadan brought her there, and she was welcome, for the lord\nof that castle was her uncle; and so Sir Dinadan rode his way upon his\nadventure.\nNow turn we this tale unto Sir Tristram, that by adventure he came to a\ncastle to ask lodging, wherein was Queen Morgan le Fay; and so when Sir\nTristram was let into that castle he had good cheer all that night. And\nupon the morn when he would have departed the queen said: Wit ye well\nye shall not depart lightly, for ye are here as a prisoner. Jesu\ndefend! said Sir Tristram, for I was but late a prisoner. Fair knight,\nsaid the queen, ye shall abide with me till that I wit what ye are and\nfrom whence ye come. And ever the queen would set Sir Tristram on her\nown side, and her paramour on the other side. And ever Queen Morgan\nwould behold Sir Tristram, and thereat the knight was jealous, and was\nin will suddenly to have run upon Sir Tristram with a sword, but he\nleft it for shame. Then the queen said to Sir Tristram: Tell me thy\nname, and I shall suffer you to depart when ye will. Upon that covenant\nI tell you my name is Sir Tristram de Liones. Ah, said Morgan le Fay,\nan I had wist that, thou shouldst not have departed so soon as thou\nshalt. But sithen I have made a promise I will hold it, with that thou\nwilt promise me to bear upon thee a shield that I shall deliver thee,\nunto the castle of the Hard Rock, where King Arthur had cried a great\ntournament, and there I pray you that ye will be, and to do for me as\nmuch deeds of arms as ye may do. For at the Castle of Maidens, Sir\nTristram, ye did marvellous deeds of arms as ever I heard knight do.\nMadam, said Sir Tristram, let me see the shield that I shall bear. Then\nthe shield was brought forth, and the field was goldish, with a king\nand a queen therein painted, and a knight standing above them, [one\nfoot] upon the king\u2019s head, and the other upon the queen\u2019s. Madam, said\nSir Tristram, this is a fair shield and a mighty; but what signifieth\nthis king and this queen, and the knight standing upon both their\nheads? I shall tell you, said Morgan le Fay, it signifieth King Arthur\nand Queen Guenever, and a knight who holdeth them both in bondage and\nin servage. Who is that knight? said Sir Tristram. That shall ye not\nwit as at this time, said the queen. But as the French book saith,\nQueen Morgan loved Sir Launcelot best, and ever she desired him, and he\nwould never love her nor do nothing at her request, and therefore she\nheld many knights together for to have taken him by strength. And\nbecause she deemed that Sir Launcelot loved Queen Guenever paramour,\nand she him again, therefore Queen Morgan le Fay ordained that shield\nto put Sir Launcelot to a rebuke, to that intent that King Arthur might\nunderstand the love between them. Then Sir Tristram took that shield\nand promised her to bear it at the tournament at the Castle of the Hard\nRock. But Sir Tristram knew not that that shield was ordained against\nSir Launcelot, but afterward he knew it.\nCHAPTER XLI. How Sir Tristram took with him the shield, and also how he\nslew the paramour of Morgan le Fay.\nSo then Sir Tristram took his leave of the queen, and took the shield\nwith him. Then came the knight that held Queen Morgan le Fay, his name\nwas Sir Hemison, and he made him ready to follow Sir Tristram. Fair\nfriend, said Morgan, ride not after that knight, for ye shall not win\nno worship of him. Fie on him, coward, said Sir Hemison, for I wist\nnever good knight come out of Cornwall but if it were Sir Tristram de\nLiones. What an that be he? said she. Nay, nay, said he, he is with La\nBeale Isoud, and this is but a daffish knight. Alas, my fair friend, ye\nshall find him the best knight that ever ye met withal, for I know him\nbetter than ye do. For your sake, said Sir Hemison, I shall slay him.\nAh, fair friend, said the queen, me repenteth that ye will follow that\nknight, for I fear me sore of your again coming. With this this knight\nrode his way wood wroth, and he rode after Sir Tristram as fast as he\nhad been chased with knights. When Sir Tristram heard a knight come\nafter him so fast he returned about, and saw a knight coming against\nhim. And when he came nigh to Sir Tristram he cried on high: Sir\nknight, keep thee from me. Then they rushed together as it had been\nthunder, and Sir Hemison brised his spear upon Sir Tristram, but his\nharness was so good that he might not hurt him. And Sir Tristram smote\nhim harder, and bare him through the body, and he fell over his horse\u2019s\ncroup. Then Sir Tristram turned to have done more with his sword, but\nhe saw so much blood go from him that him seemed he was likely to die,\nand so he departed from him and came to a fair manor to an old knight,\nand there Sir Tristram lodged.\nCHAPTER XLII. How Morgan le Fay buried her paramour, and how Sir\nTristram praised Sir Launcelot and his kin.\nNow leave to speak of Sir Tristram, and speak we of the knight that was\nwounded to the death. Then his varlet alighted, and took off his helm,\nand then he asked his lord whether there were any life in him. There is\nin me life, said the knight, but it is but little; and therefore leap\nthou up behind me when thou hast holpen me up, and hold me fast that I\nfall not, and bring me to Queen Morgan le Fay; for deep draughts of\ndeath draw to my heart that I may not live, for I would fain speak with\nher or I died: for else my soul will be in great peril an I die.\nFor[thwith] with great pain his varlet brought him to the castle, and\nthere Sir Hemison fell down dead. When Morgan le Fay saw him dead she\nmade great sorrow out of reason; and then she let despoil him unto his\nshirt, and so she let him put into a tomb. And about the tomb she let\nwrite: Here lieth Sir Hemison, slain by the hands of Sir Tristram de\nLiones.\nNow turn we unto Sir Tristram, that asked the knight his host if he saw\nlate any knights adventurous. Sir, he said, the last night here lodged\nwith me Ector de Maris and a damosel with him, and that damosel told me\nthat he was one of the best knights of the world. That is not so, said\nSir Tristram, for I know four better knights of his own blood, and the\nfirst is Sir Launcelot du Lake, call him the best knight, and Sir Bors\nde Ganis, Sir Bleoberis, Sir Blamore de Ganis, and Sir Gaheris. Nay,\nsaid his host, Sir Gawaine is a better knight than he. That is not so,\nsaid Sir Tristram, for I have met with them both, and I felt Sir\nGaheris for the better knight, and Sir Lamorak I call him as good as\nany of them except Sir Launcelot. Why name ye not Sir Tristram? said\nhis host, for I account him as good as any of them. I know not Sir\nTristram, said Tristram. Thus they talked and bourded as long as them\nlist, and then went to rest. And on the morn Sir Tristram departed, and\ntook his leave of his host, and rode toward the Roche Dure, and none\nadventure had Sir Tristram but that; and so he rested not till he came\nto the castle, where he saw five hundred tents.\nCHAPTER XLIII. How Sir Tristram at a tournament bare the shield that\nMorgan le Fay delivered to him.\nThen the King of Scots and the King of Ireland held against King\nArthur\u2019s knights, and there began a great medley. So came in Sir\nTristram and did marvellous deeds of arms, for there he smote down many\nknights. And ever he was afore King Arthur with that shield. And when\nKing Arthur saw that shield he marvelled greatly in what intent it was\nmade; but Queen Guenever deemed as it was, wherefore she was heavy.\nThen was there a damosel of Queen Morgan in a chamber by King Arthur,\nand when she heard King Arthur speak of that shield, then she spake\nopenly unto King Arthur. Sir King, wit ye well this shield was ordained\nfor you, to warn you of your shame and dishonour, and that longeth to\nyou and your queen. And then anon that damosel picked her away privily,\nthat no man wist where she was become. Then was King Arthur sad and\nwroth, and asked from whence came that damosel. There was not one that\nknew her nor wist where she was become. Then Queen Guenever called to\nher Sir Ector de Maris, and there she made her complaint to him, and\nsaid: I wot well this shield was made by Morgan le Fay in despite of me\nand of Sir Launcelot, wherefore I dread me sore lest I should be\ndestroyed. And ever the king beheld Sir Tristram, that did so\nmarvellous deeds of arms that he wondered sore what knight he might be,\nand well he wist it was not Sir Launcelot. And it was told him that Sir\nTristram was in Petit Britain with Isoud la Blanche Mains, for he\ndeemed, an he had been in the realm of Logris, Sir Launcelot or some of\nhis fellows that were in the quest of Sir Tristram that they should\nhave found him or that time. So King Arthur had marvel what knight he\nmight be. And ever Sir Arthur\u2019s eye was on that shield. All that espied\nthe queen, and that made her sore afeard.\nThen ever Sir Tristram smote down knights wonderly to behold, what upon\nthe right hand and upon the left hand, that unnethe no knight might\nwithstand him. And the King of Scots and the King of Ireland began to\nwithdraw them. When Arthur espied that, he thought that that knight\nwith the strange shield should not escape him. Then he called unto him\nSir Uwaine le Blanche Mains, and bade him arm him and make him ready.\nSo anon King Arthur and Sir Uwaine dressed them before Sir Tristram,\nand required him to tell them where he had that shield. Sir, he said, I\nhad it of Queen Morgan le Fay, sister unto King Arthur.\n So here endeth this history of this book, for it is the first book of\n Sir Tristram de Liones and the second book of Sir Tristram followeth.\nGLOSSARY\nAbashed, abased, lowered,\nAbate, depress, calm,\nAbought, paid for,\nAbraid, started,\nAccompted, counted,\nAccorded, agreed,\nAccordment, agreement,\nAcquit, repay,\nActually, actively,\nAdoubted, afraid,\nAdvision, vision,\nAfeard, afraid,\nAfterdeal, disadvantage,\nAgainsay, retract,\nAknown, known,\nAligement, alleviation,\nAllegeance, alleviation,\nAllow, approve,\nAlmeries, chests,\nAlther, gen. pl., of all,\nAmounted, mounted,\nAnealed, anointed,\nAnguishly, in pain,\nAnon, at once,\nApair, weaken,\nApparelled, fitted up,\nAppeach, impeach,\nAppealed, challenged, accused,\nAppertices, displays,\nAraged, enraged, ; confused,\nAraised, raised,\nArase, obliterate,\nAreared, reared,\nArmyvestal, martial,\nArray, plight, state of affairs,\nArrayed, situated,\nArson, saddle-bow,\nAskance, casually,\nAssoiled, absolved,\nAssotted, infatuated,\nAssummon, summon,\nAstonied, amazed, stunned,\nAt, of, by,\nAt-after, after,\nAttaint, overcome,\nAumbries, chests,\nAvail (at), at an advantage,\nAvaled, lowered,\nAvaunt, boast,\nAventred, couched,\nAvised, be advised, take thought,\nAvision, vision,\nAvoid, quit,\nAvoided, got clear off,\nAvow, vow,\nAwait of (in), in watch for,\nAwayward, away,\nAwke, sideways,\nBachelors, probationers for knighthood\nBain, bath,\nBarbican, gate-tower,\nBarget, little ship,\nBattle, division of an army,\nBawdy, dirty,\nBeams, trumpets,\nBe-closed, enclosed,\nBecome, pp., befallen, gone to,\nBedashed, splashed,\nBehests, promises,\nBehight, promised,\nBeholden (beholding) to, obliged to,\nBehote, promised,\nBenome, deprived, taken away,\nBesants, gold coins,\nBeseek, beseech,\nBeseen, appointed, arrayed,\nBeskift, shove off,\nBested, beset,\nBetaken, entrusted,\nBetaught, entrusted, recommended,\nBetid, happened,\nBetook, committed, entrusted,\nBevered, quivered,\nBoard, sb., deck,\nBobaunce, boasting, pride,\nBoishe, bush, branch of a tree,\nBoistous, rough,\nBole, trunk of a tree,\nBoot, remedy,\nBorrow out, redeem,\nBorrows, pledges,\nBote, remedy,\nBound, ready,\nBourded, jested,\nBourder, jester,\nBraced, embraced,\nBrachet, little hound,\nBraide, quick movement,\nBrast, burst, break,\nBreaths, breathing holes,\nBrief, shorten,\nBrim, fierce, furious,\nBrised, broke,\nBroached, pierced,\nBroaches, spits,\nBur, hand-guard of a spear,\nBurble, bubble,\nBurbling, bubbling,\nBurgenetts, buds, blossoms,\nBushment, ambush,\nBy and by, immediately,\nBywaryed, expended, bestowed,\nCanel bone, collar bone,\nCankered, inveterate,\nCantel, slice, strip,\nCareful, sorrowful, full of troubles,\nCast (of bread), loaves baked at the same time,\nCast, ref: v., propose,\nCedle, schedule, note,\nCere, wax over, embalm,; cerel,\nCertes, certainly,\nChafe, heat, decompose,; chafed, heated,\nChaflet, platform, scaffold,\nChampaign, open country,\nChariot (Fr charette), cart,\nCheer, countenance, entertainment,\nChierte, dearness,\nChrism, anointing oil,\nClatter, talk confusedly,\nCleight, clutched,\nCleped, called,\nClipping, embracing,\nCog, small boat,\nCognisance, badge, mark of distinction,\nCoif, head-piece,\nComfort, strengthen, help,\nCominal, common,\nComplished, complete,\nCon, know, be able, ; con thanlt, be grateful,\nConserve, preserve,\nConversant, abiding in,\nCording, agreement,\nCoronal, circlet,\nCost, side,\nCosted, kept up with,\nCouched, lay,\nCourage, encourage,\nCourtelage, courtyard,\nCovert, sheltered,\nCovetise, covetousness,\nCovin, deceit,\nCream, oil,\nCredence, faith,\nCroup, crupper,\nCurteist, most courteous,\nDaffish, foolish,\nDanger (in), under obligation to, in the power of,\nDawed, v tr., revived, intr. dawned,\nDeadly, mortal, human,\nDeal, part, portion,\nDebate, quarrel, strife,\nDebonair, courteous,\nDeceivable, deceitful,\nDefaded, faded,\nDefault, fault,\nDefend, forbid,; defended,; forbidden,\nDefoiled, trodden down, fouled, deflowered,\nDegree (win the), rank, superiority,\nDelibered, determined,\nDeliverly, adroitly,\nDeparted, divided,\nDepartition, departure,\nDere, harm,\nDescrive, describe,\nDespoiled, stripped,\nDetrenched, cut to pieces,\nDevised, looked carefully at,\nDevoir, duty, service,\nDid off, doffed,\nDight, prepared,\nDindled, trembled,\nDisadventure, misfortune,\nDiscover, reveal,\nDisherited, disinherited,\nDisparpled, scattered,\nDispenses, expenses,\nDisperplyd, scattered,\nDispoiled, stripped,\nDistained, sullied, dishonoured,\nDisworship, shame,\nDole, gift of alms,\nDole, sorrow,\nDomineth, dominates, rules,\nDon, gift,\nDoted, foolish,\nDoubted, redoubtable,\nDraughts, privities, secret interviews, recesses,\nDrenched, drowned,\nDress, make ready,\nDressed up, raised,\nDretched, troubled in sleep,\nDretching, being troubled in sleep,\nDromounds, war vessels,\nDure, endure, last,; dured,; during,\nDuresse, bondage, hardship,\nDwined, dwindled,\nEased, entertained,\nEft, after, again,\nEftures, passages,\nEmbattled, ranged for battle,\nEmbushed, concealed in the woods,\nEme, uncle,\nEmpoison, poison,\nEmprised, undertook,\nEnbraid,\nEnchafe, heat,; enchafed, heated,\nEnchieve, achieve,\nEndlong, alongside of,\nEnewed, painted,\nEnforce, constrain,\nEngine, device,\nEnow, enough,\nEnquest, enterprise,\nEnsured, assured,\nEntermete, intermeddle,\nErrant, wandering,\nEstates, ranks,\nEven hand, at an equality,\nEvenlong, along,\nEverych, each, every one,\nFaiter, vagabond,\nFare, sb., ado, commotion,\nFaren, pp., treated,\nFaute, lack,; fauted, lacked,\nFealty, oath of fidelity,\nFear, frighten,\nFeute, trace, track,\nFeuter, set in rest, couch,\nFeutred, set in socket,\nFiaunce, affiance, promise,\nFlang, flung,; rushed,\nFlatling, prostrate,\nFleet, float,\nFlemed, put to flight,\nFlittered, fluttered,\nFoiled, defeated, shamed,\nFoined, thrust,\nFoining, thrusting,\nFoins, thrusts,\nFoot-hot, hastily,\nFor-bled, spent with bleeding,\nForce (no), no concern,\nFordeal, advantage,\nFordo, destroy,; fordid,\nForecast, preconcerted plot,\nFor-fared, worsted,\nForfend, forbid,\nForfoughten, weary with fighting,\nForhewn, hewn to pieces,\nForjousted, tired with jousting,\nForthinketh, repents,\nFortuned, happened,\nForward, vanguard,\nForwowmded, sorely wounded,\nFree, noble,\nFreshed,\nFroward, away from,\nGad, wedge or spike of iron,\nGainest, readiest,\nGar, cause,\nGart, compelled,\nGentily, like a gentleman,\nGerfalcon, a fine hawk,\nGermane, closely allied,\nGest, deed, story,\nGisarm, halberd, battle-axe,\nGlaive, sword,\nGlasting, barking,\nGlatisant, barking, yelping,\nGobbets, lumps,\nGraithed, made ready,\nGree, degree, superiority,\nGreed, pp., pleased, content,\nGrescs, steps,\nGrimly, ugly,\nGrovelling, on his face,\nGuerdonless, without reward,\nGuise, fashion,\nHabergeon, hauberk with leggings attached,\nHair, a hair-shirt,\nHale and how, a sailor\u2019s cry,\nHalp, helped,\nHalsed, embraced,\nHalsing, embracing,\nHandfast, betrothed,\nHandsel, earnest-money,\nHangers, testicles,\nHarbingers, messengers sent to prepare lodgings,\nHarness, armour,\nHart of greese, fat deer,\nHauberk, coat of mail,\nHaut, high, noble,\nHauteyn, haughty,\nHeavy, sad,\nHete, command,\nHide, skin,\nHied, hurried,\nHigh (on), aloud,\nHigher hand, the uppermost,\nHight, called,\nHilled, covered, concealed,\nHolden, held,\nHolp, helped,\nHolts, woods,\nHough-bone, back part of kneejoint,\nHouselled, to be given the Eucharist,\nHoved, hovered, waited about,\nHurled, dashed, staggered,; hurling,\nHurtle, dash,\nIncontinent, forthwith,\nInd, dark blue,\nInfellowship, join in fellowship,\nIn like, alike,\nIntermit, interpose,\nJaper, jester,\nJapes, jests,\nJesseraunt, a short cuirass,\nKeep, sb., care,\nKeep, s., care, reck,\nKemps, champions,\nKind, nature,\nKindly, natural,\nKnights parters, marshals,\nKnow, acknowledge,\nKnowledging, acknowledgment, confession,\nLain, conceal,\nLangering, sauntering,\nLapped, took in her lap,\nLarge, generous,\nLargeness, liberality,\nLaton, latten, brass,\nLaund, waste plain,\nLayne, conceal,\nLazar-cot, leper-house,\nLearn, teach,\nLears, cheeks,\nLeaved, leafy,\nLecher, fornicator,\nLeech, physician,\nLeman, lover,\nLet, caused to,\nLet, hinder,\nLewdest, most ignorant,\nLicours lecherous,\nLief, dear,\nLiefer, more gladly,\nLieve, believe,\nLimb-meal, limb from limb,\nList, desire, pleasure,\nLithe, joint,\nLonging unto, belonging to,\nLong on (upon), because of,\nLoos, praise,\nLotless, without a share,\nLoveday, day for. settling disputes,\nLoving, praising,\nLunes, leashes, strings,\nLusk, lubber,\nLusts, inclinations,\nMaims, wounds,\nMakeless, matchless,\nMakers, authors, poets,\nMas,ease, discomfort,\nMal engine, evil design,\nMal-fortune, ill-luck, mishap,\nMarches, borders,\nMass-penny, offering at mass for the dead,\nMatche old, machicolated, with holes for defence,\nMaugre, sb., despite,\nMeasle, disease,\nMedled, mingled,\nMedley, melee, general encounter,\nMeiny, retinue,\nMickle, much,\nMinever, ermine,\nMischieved, hurt,\nMischievous, painful,\nMiscorr fort, discomfort,\nMiscreature, unbeliever,\nMissay, revile,; missaid,\nMo, more,\nMore and less, rich and poor,\nMotes, notes on a horn,\nMount~ lance, amount of, extent,\nMuch, great,\nNaked, unarmed,\nNamely, especially,\nNe, nor,\nNear-hand, nearly,; near,\nNeedly, needs, on your own compulsion,\nNesh, soft, tender,\nNigh-hand, nearly,\nNill, will not,\nNilt, will not,\nNis, ne is, is not,\nNist, ne wist, knew not,\nNoblesse, nobleness,\nNobley, nobility, splendour,\nNoised, reported,\nNold, would not,\nNoseling, on his nose,\nNot for then, nevertheless,\nNotoyrly, notoriously,\nNoyous, hurtful,\nObeissance, obedience,\nOr, before,\nOrgule, haughtiness,\nOrgulist, haughtiest,\nOrgulite, pride, arrogance,\nOrgulous, proud,\nOther, or,\nOuches, jewels,\nOught, owned,\nOutcept, except,\nOuther, or,\nOut-taken, except,\nOver-evening, last night,\nOverget, overtake,\nOverhylled, covered,\nOver-led, domineered over,\nOverlong, the length of,\nOverslip, pass,\nOverthwart, adj., cross,\nOverthwart, sb., mischance,\nOverthwart and endlong, by the breadth and length,\nPainture, painting,\nPaitrelles, breastplate of a horse,\nPaltocks, short coats,\nParage, descent,\nPareil, like,\nPassing, surpassingly,\nPaynim, pagan,\nPensel, pennon,\nPerclos, partition,\nPerdy, par Dieu,\nPerigot, falcon,\nPerish, destroy,\nPeron, tombstone,\nPight, pitched,\nPike, steal away,\nPiked, stole,\nPillers, plunderers,\nPilling, plundering,\nPleasaunce, pleasure,\nPlenour, complete,\nPlump, sb., cluster,\nPointling, aiming,\nPont, bridge,\nPort, gate,\nPosseded, possessed,\nPotestate, governor,\nPrecessours, predecessors,\nPress, throng,\nPretendeth, belongs to,\nPricker, hard rider,\nPricking, spurring,\nPrime, A.M.,\nPrise, capture,\nPuissance, power,\nPurfle, trimming,\nPurfled, embroidered,\nPurvey, provide,\nQuarrels, arrowheads,\nQuesting, barking,\nQuick, alive,\nQuit, repaid,; acquitted, behaved,\nRaced (rased), tore,\nRack (of bulls), herd,\nRaines, a town in Brittany famous for its cloth,\nRamping, raging,\nRange, rank, station,\nRansacked, searched,\nRashed, fell headlong,\nRashing, rushing,\nRasing, rushing,\nRasure,\nRaundon, impetuosity,\nRear, raise,\nRechate, note of recall,\nRecomforted, comforted, cheered,\nRecounter, rencontre, encounter,\nRecover, rescue,\nRede, advise, ; sb., counsel,\nRedounded, glanced back,\nReligion, religious order,\nReneye, deny,\nReport, refer,\nResemblaunt; semblance,\nRetrayed, drew back,\nRightwise, rightly,\nRivage, shore,\nRomed, roared,\nRoted, practised,\nRove, cleft,\nRownsepyk, a branch,\nSacring, consecrating,\nSad, serious,\nSadly, heartily, earnestly,\nSalle, room,\nSamite, silk stuff with gold or silver\nthreads,\nSangreal, Holy Grail,\nSarps, girdles,\nSaw, proverb,\nScathes, harms, hurts,\nicripture, writing,\nSearch, probe wounds,\nSelar, canopy,\nSemblable, like,\nSemblant, semblance,\nSendal, fine cloth,\nSennight, week,\nServage, slavery,\nSewer, officer who set on dishes and tasted them,\nShaft-mon, handbreadth,\nShaw, thicket,\nSheef, thrust,\nSheer-Thursday, Thursday in Holy Week,\nShend, harm,\nShenship, disgrace,\nShent, undone, blamed,\nShour, attack,\nShrew, rascal,\nShrewd, knavish,\nSib, akin to,\nSideling, sideways,\nSiege, seat,\nSignified, likened,\nSiker, sure,\nSikerness, assurance,\nSith, since,\nSithen, afterwards, since,\nSkift, changed,\nSlade, valley,\nSlake, glen,\nSoil (to go to), hunting term for taking the water,\nSonds, messages,\nSort, company,\nSperd, bolted,\nSpere, ask, inquire,\nSpered, asked,\nSperhawk, sparrowhawk,\nSprent, sprinkled,\nStale, station,\nStark, thoroughly,\nStead, place,\nStert, started, rose quickly,\nSteven, appointment,; steven ser. appointment made,\nSteven, voice,\nStigh, path,\nStilly, silently,\nStint, fixed revenue,\nStonied, astonished,; became confused,\nStour, battle,\nStrain, race, descent,\nStrait, narrow,\nStraked, blew a horn,\nSue, pursue,\nSued, pursued,\nSurcingles, saddle girths,\nSwang, swung,\nSweven, dream,\nSwough, sound of wind,\nTalent, desire,\nTallages, taxes,\nTallies, taxes,\nTamed, crushed,\nTatches, qualities,\nTene, sorrow,\nTerm, period of time,\nThilk, that same,\nTho, then,\nThrang, pushed,\nThrulled, pushed,\nTill, to,\nTo-brast, burst,\nTo-fore, before,\nTo-morn, to-morrow,\nTook, gave,\nTo-rove, broke up,\nTo-shivered, broken to pieces,\nTraced, advanced and retreated,\nTrains, devices, wiles,\nTrasing, pressing forward,\nTravers (met at), came across,\nTraverse, slantwise,\nTraversed, moved sideways,\nTray, grief,\nTreatise, treaty,\nTree, timber,\nTrenchant, cutting, sharp,\nTres:, hunting term,\nTruage, tribute,\nTrussed, packed,\nUbblie, wafer, Host,\nUmbecast, cast about,\nUmberere, the part of the helmet which shaded the eyes,\nUmbre, shade,\nUnavised, thoughtlessly,\nUncouth, strange,\nUnderne, - A.M.,\nUngoodly, rudely,\nUnhappy, unlucky,\nUnhilled, uncovered,\nUnr the, scarcely,\nUnsicker, unstable,\nUnwimpled, uncovered,\nUnwrast, untwisted, unbound,\nUpright, flat on the back,\nUp-so-down, upside down,\nUre, usage,\nUtas, octave of a festival,\nUtterance, uttermost,\nVarlet, servant,\nVenery, hunting,\nVen ails, breathing holes,\nVillain, man of low birth,\nVisors, the perforated parts of helmets,\nVoided, slipped away from,\nWagging, shaking,\nWaited, watched,\nWaits, watches,\nWallop, gallop,\nWanhope, despair,\nWap, ripple,\nWare, aware,\nWarison, reward,\nWarn, forbid, refuse,\nWeeds, garments,\nWeltered, rolled about,\nWend, thought,\nWer-wolf, a man turned into a wolf by magic,\nWhere, whereas,\nWide-where, over wide space,\nWield, possess, have power over,\nWield himself, come to himself,\nWight, brave, strong,\nWightly, swiftly,\nWildsome, desolate,\nWimpled, with the head covered,\nWin, make way,\nWite, v., blame,\nWithin-forth, on the inside,\nWithout-forth, on the outside,\nWittiest, cleverest,\nWittily, cleverly,\nWitting, knowledge,\nWold or nold, would or would not,\nWonder, adj., wondrous,\nWonder, adv., wondrously,\nWonderly, wonderfully,\nWood, mad,\nWoodness, madness,\nWood shaw, thicket of the wood,\nWorship, honour,\nWorshipped, cause to be honoured,\nWorts, roots,\nWot, know,\nWrack, destruction,\nWroken, wreaked,\nWrothe, twisted,\nYede, ran,\nYelden, yielded,\nYerde, stick, stem,\nYode, went,\nYolden, yielded,\nY-wis, certainly,\nEnd of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Le Morte D\u2019Arthur, Volume I (of II),\nby Thomas Malory\n*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LE MORTE D\u2019ARTHUR, VOLUME I ***\n***** This file should be named 1251-0.txt or 1251-0.zip *****\nThis and all associated files of various formats will be found in:\nProduced by Mike Lough, and David Widger\nUpdated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will\nbe renamed.\nCreating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright\nlaw means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,\nso the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United\nStates without permission and without paying copyright\nroyalties. 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Thus, we do not\nnecessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper\nedition.\nMost people start at our Web site which has the main PG search\nfacility: www.gutenberg.org\nThis Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,\nincluding how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary\nArchive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to\nsubscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg - Le Morte D\u2019Arthur, Volume I (of II)\n"}, {"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1451, "culture": " English\n", "content": "Produced by Christine Aldridge and the Online Distributed\nTranscriber's Notes:\n1. Passages in italics are surrounded by _underscores_.\n2. Minor punctuation errors have been corrected.\n3. A complete list of spelling corrections and notations is located at\n the end of this text.\n The Romance of Reality\n _Author of \"Half-Hours with the Best American Authors,\" \"Tales\n from the Dramatists,\" etc._\n PHILADELPHIA AND LONDON\n Copyright, 1891, by J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY.\n Copyright, 1904, by J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY.\n Copyright, 1908, by J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY.\n[Illustration: CONWAY CASTLE.]\n TRISTRAM AND ISOLDE AT JOYOUS GARD.\n II.--HOW TRISTRAM BEFOOLED DINADAN 23\n IV.--HOW PALAMIDES FARED AT THE RED CITY 46\n VI.--THE SECOND DAY OF THE TOURNAMENT 70\n VIII.--THE RIVALRY OF TRISTRAM AND PALAMIDES 92\n THE QUEST OF THE HOLY GRAIL.\n I.--THE ENCHANTED CASTLE OF KING PELLAM 117\n II.--THE MARVEL OF THE FLOATING SWORD 125\n IV.--THE TEMPTATION OF SIR PERCIVALE 155\n V.--THE STRANGE ADVENTURES OF SIR BORS 173\n VI.--THE ADVENTURE OF THE MAGIC SHIP 195\n VII.--HOW LANCELOT SAW THE SANGREAL 207\n VIII.--THE DEEDS OF THE THREE CHOSEN KNIGHTS 217\n THE LOVE OF LANCELOT AND GUENEVER.\n IV.--THE WAR BETWEEN ARTHUR AND LANCELOT 314\n VII.--THE DEATH OF LANCELOT AND GUENEVER 339\n SIR GALAHAD FIGHTING THE SEVEN SINS 153\n SIR GALAHAD'S QUEST OF THE HOLY GRAIL 217\n \"YOU ARE WELCOME, BOTH,\" SAID SIR BERNARD 241\n SIR LANCELOT IN THE QUEEN'S CHAMBER 287\n THE OLD KITCHEN OF GLASTONBURY ABBEY 345\n KNIGHTS OF THE ROUND TABLE.\n TRISTRAM AND ISOLDE AT JOYOUS GARD\nCHAPTER I.\nTHE TREACHERY OF KING MARK.\nThe story of Tristram's valorous deeds, and of the high honor in which\nhe was held at Camelot, in good time came to Cornwall, where it filled\nKing Mark's soul with revengeful fury, and stirred the heart of La Belle\nIsolde to the warmest love. The coward king, indeed, in his jealous\nhatred of his nephew, set out in disguise for England, with murderous\ndesigns against Tristram should an opportunity occur.\nMany things happened to him there, and he was brought into deep\ndisgrace, but the story of his adventures may be passed over in brief\nreview, lest the reader should find it wearisome.\nNot far had he ridden on English soil before he met with Dinadan, who,\nin his jesting humor, soon played him a merry trick. For he arrayed\nDagonet, the king's fool, in a suit of armor, which he made Mark believe\nwas Lancelot's. Thus prepared, Dagonet rode to meet him and challenged\nhim to a joust. But King Mark, on seeing what he fancied was Lancelot's\nshield, turned and fled at headlong speed, followed by the fool and his\ncomrades with hunting cries and laughter till the forest rang with the\nnoise.\nEscaping at length from this merry chase, the trembling dastard made his\nway to Camelot, where he hoped some chance would arise to aid him in his\nmurderous designs on Tristram. But a knight of his own train, named Sir\nAmant, had arrived there before him, and accused him of treason to the\nking, without telling who he was.\n\"This is a charge that must be settled by wager of battle,\" said King\nArthur. \"The quarrel is between you; you must decide it with sword and\nspear.\"\nIn the battle that followed, Sir Amant, by unlucky fortune, was run\nthrough, and fell from his horse with a mortal wound.\n\"Heaven has decided in my favor,\" cried King Mark. \"But here I shall no\nlonger stay, for it does not seem a safe harbor for honest knights.\"\nHe thereupon rode away, fearing that Dinadan would reveal his name. Yet\nnot far had he gone before Lancelot came in furious haste after him.\n[Illustration: ST. MICHAEL'S MOUNT, CORNWALL.]\n\"Turn again, thou recreant king and knight,\" he loudly called. \"To\nArthur's court you must return, whether it is your will or not. We know\nyou, villain. Sir Amant has told your name and purpose; and, by my\nfaith, I am strongly moved to kill you on the spot.\"\n\"Fair sir,\" asked King Mark, \"what is your name?\"\n\"My name is Lancelot du Lake. Defend yourself, dog and dastard.\"\nOn hearing this dreaded name, and seeing Lancelot riding upon him with\nspear in rest, King Mark tumbled like a sack of grain from his saddle to\nthe earth, crying in terror, \"I yield me, Sir Lancelot! I yield me!\" and\nbegging piteously for mercy.\n\"Thou villain!\" thundered Lancelot, \"I would give much to deal thee one\nbuffet for the love of Tristram and Isolde. Mount, dog, and follow me.\"\nMark hastened to obey, and was thus brought like a slave back to\nArthur's court, where he made such prayers and promises that in the end\nthe king forgave him, but only on condition that he would enter into\naccord with Tristram, and remove from him the sentence of banishment.\nAll this King Mark volubly promised and swore to abide by, though a\nfalse heart underlay his fair words. But Tristram gladly accepted the\nproffered truce with his old enemy, for his heart burned with desire to\nsee his lady love again.\nSoon afterwards Dinadan, with Dagonet and his companions, came to court,\nand great was the laughter and jesting at King Mark when they told the\nstory of his flight from Arthur's fool.\n\"This is all very well for you stay-at-homes,\" cried Mark; \"but even a\nfool in Lancelot's armor is not to be played with. As it was, Dagonet\npaid for his masquerade, for he met a knight who brought him like a log\nto the ground, and all these laughing fellows with him.\"\n\"Who was that?\" asked King Arthur.\n\"I can tell you,\" said Dinadan. \"It was Sir Palamides. I followed him\nthrough the forest, and a lively time we had in company.\"\n\"Aha! then you have had adventures.\"\n\"Rare ones. We met a knight before Morgan le Fay's castle. You know the\ncustom there, to let no knight pass without a hard fight for it. This\nstranger made havoc with the custom, for he overthrew ten of your\nsister's knights, and killed some of them. He afterwards tilted with\nPalamides for offering to help him, and gave that doughty fellow a sore\nwound.\"\n\"Who was this mighty champion? Not Lancelot or Tristram?\" asked the\nking, looking around.\n\"On our faith we had no hand in it,\" they both answered.\n\"It was the knight next to them in renown,\" answered Dinadan.\n\"Lamorak of Wales?\"\n\"No less. And, my faith, a sturdy fellow he is. I left him and Palamides\nthe best of friends.\"\n\"I hope, then, to see the pair of them at next week's tournament,\" said\nthe king.\nAlas for Lamorak! Better for him far had he kept away from that\ntournament. His gallant career was near its end, for treachery and\nhatred were soon to seal his fate. This sorrowful story it is now our\nsad duty to tell.\nLamorak had long loved Margause, the queen of Orkney, Arthur's sister\nand the mother of Gawaine and his brethren. For this they hated him, and\nwith treacherous intent invited their mother to a castle near Camelot,\nas a lure to her lover. Soon after the tournament, at which Lamorak won\nthe prize of valor, and redoubled the hatred of Gawaine and his brothers\nby overcoming them in the fray, word was brought to the victorious\nknight that Margause was near at hand and wished to see him.\nWith a lover's ardor, he hastened to the castle where she was, but, as\nthey sat in the queen's apartment in conversation, the door was suddenly\nflung open, and Gaheris, one of the murderous brethren, burst in, full\narmed and with a naked sword in his hand. Rushing in fury on the\nunsuspecting lovers, with one dreadful blow he struck off his mother's\nhead, crimsoning Lamorak with her blood. He next assailed Lamorak, who,\nbeing unarmed, was forced to fly for his life, and barely escaped.\nThe tidings of this dread affair filled the land with dismay, and many\nof the good knights of Arthur's court threatened reprisal. Arthur\nhimself was full of wrath at the death of his sister. Yet those were\ndays when law ruled not, but force was master, and retribution only came\nfrom the strong hand and the ready sword. This was Lamorak's quarrel,\nand the king, though he vowed to protect him from his foes, declared\nthat the good knight of Wales must seek retribution with his own hand.\nHe gained death, alas! instead of revenge, for his foes proved too\nvigilant for him, and overcame him by vile treachery. Watching his\nmovements, they lay in ambush for him at a difficult place, and as he\nwas passing, unsuspicious of danger, they set suddenly upon him, slew\nhis horse, and assailed him on foot.\nGawaine, Mordred, and Gaheris formed this ambush, for the noble-minded\nGareth had refused to take part in their murderous plot; and with\ndesperate fury they assaulted the noble Welsh knight, who, for three\nhours, defended himself against their utmost strength. But at the last\nMordred dealt him a death-blow from behind, and when he fell in death\nthe three murders hewed him with their swords till scarce a trace of the\nhuman form was left.\nThus perished one of the noblest of Arthur's knights, and thus was done\none of the most villanous deeds of blood ever known in those days of\nchivalrous war.\nBefore the death of Lamorak another event happened at Arthur's court\nwhich must here be told, for it was marvellous in itself, and had in it\nthe promise of wondrous future deeds.\nOne day there came to the court at Camelot a knight attended by a young\nsquire. When he had disarmed he went to the king and asked him to give\nthe honor of knighthood to his squire.\n\"What claim has he to it?\" asked the king. \"Of what lineage is he?\"\n\"He is the youngest son of King Pellinore, and brother to Sir Lamorak.\nHe is my brother also; for my name is Aglavale, and I am of the same\ndescent.\"\n\"What is his name?\"\n\"Percivale.\"\n\"Then for my love of Lamorak, and the love I bore your father, he shall\nbe made a knight to-morrow.\"\nSo when the morrow dawned, the king ordered that the youth should be\nbrought into the great hall, and there he knighted him, dealing him the\naccolade with his good sword Excalibur.\nAnd so the day passed on till the dinner-hour, when the king seated\nhimself at the head of the table, while down its sides were many knights\nof prowess and renown. Percivale, the new-made knight, was given a seat\namong the squires and the untried knights, who sat at the lower end of\nthe great dining-table.\nBut in the midst of their dinner an event of great strangeness occurred.\nFor there came into the hall one of the queen's maidens, who was of high\nbirth, but who had been born dumb, and in all her life had spoken no\nword. Straight across the hall she walked, while all gazed at her in\nmute surprise, till she came to where Percivale sat. Then she took him\nby the hand, and spoke in a voice that rang through the hall with the\nclearness of a trumpet,--\n\"Arise, Sir Percivale, thou noble knight and warrior of God's own\nchoosing. Arise and come with me.\"\nHe rose in deep surprise, while all the others sat in dumb wonder at\nthis miracle. To the Round Table she led him, and to the right side of\nthe seat perilous, in which no knight had hitherto dared to sit.\n\"Fair knight, take here your seat;\" she said. \"This seat belongs to you,\nand to none other, and shall be yours until a greater than you shall\ncome.\"\nThis said, she departed and asked for a priest. Then was she confessed\nand given the sacrament, and forthwith died. But the king and all his\ncourt gazed with wonder on Sir Percivale, and asked themselves what all\nthis meant, and for what great career God had picked out this youthful\nknight, for such a miracle no man there had ever seen before.\nMeanwhile, King Mark had gone back to Cornwall, and with him went Sir\nTristram, at King Arthur's request, though not till Arthur had made the\nCornish king swear on Holy Scripture to do his guest no harm, but hold\nhim in honor and esteem.\nLancelot, however, was full of dread and anger when he heard what had\noccurred, and he told King Mark plainly that if he did mischief to Sir\nTristram he would slay him with his own hands.\n\"Bear this well in mind, sir king,\" he said, \"for I have a way of\nkeeping my word.\"\n\"I have sworn before King Arthur to treat him honorably,\" answered Mark.\n\"I, too, have a way of keeping my word.\"\n\"A way, I doubt not,\" said Lancelot, scornfully; \"but not my way. Your\nreputation for truth needs mending. And all men know for what you came\ninto this country. Therefore, take heed what you do.\"\n[Illustration: Copyright 1895 by E. A. Abbey; from a Copely print\ncopyright 1897 by Curtis and Cameron.\nTHE ROUND TABLE OF KING ARTHUR.]\nThen Mark and Tristram departed, and soon after they reached Cornwall a\ndamsel was sent to Camelot with news of their safe arrival, and bearing\nletters from Tristram to Arthur and Lancelot. These they answered and\nsent the damsel back, the burden of Lancelot's letter being, \"Beware of\nKing Fox, for his ways are ways of wiles.\"\nThey also sent letters to King Mark, threatening him if he should do\naught to Tristram's injury. These letters worked harm only, for they\nroused the evil spirit in the Cornish king's soul, stirring him up to\nanger and thirst for revenge. He thereupon wrote to Arthur, bidding him\nto meddle with his own concerns, and to take heed to his wife and his\nknights, which would give him work enough to do. As for Sir Tristram, he\nsaid that he held him to be his mortal enemy.\nHe wrote also to Queen Guenever, his letter being full of shameful\ncharges of illicit relations with Sir Lancelot, and dishonor to her\nlord, the king. Full of wrath at these vile charges, Guenever took the\nletter to Lancelot, who was half beside himself with anger on reading\nit.\n\"You cannot get at him to make him eat his words,\" said Dinadan, whom\nLancelot took into his confidence. \"And if you seek to bring him to\nterms with pen and ink, you will find that his villany will get the\nbetter of your honesty. Yet there are other ways of dealing with\ncowardly curs. Leave him to me; I will make him wince. I will write a\nmocking lay of King Mark and his doings, and will send a harper to sing\nit before him at his court. When this noble king has heard my song I\nfancy he will admit that there are other ways of gaining revenge besides\nwriting scurrilous letters.\"\nA stinging lay, indeed, was that which Dinadan composed. When done he\ntaught it to a harper named Eliot, who in his turn taught it to other\nharpers, and these, by the orders of Arthur and Lancelot, went into\nWales and Cornwall to sing it everywhere.\nMeanwhile King Mark's crown had been in great danger. For his country\nhad been invaded by an army from Session, led by a noted warrior named\nElias, who drove the forces of Cornwall from the field and besieged the\nking in his castle of Tintagil. And now Tristram came nobly to the\nrescue. At the head of the Cornish forces he drove back the besiegers\nwith heavy loss, and challenged Elias to a single combat to end the war.\nThe challenge was accepted, and a long and furious combat followed, but\nin the end Elias was slain, and the remnant of his army forced to\nsurrender.\nThis great service added to the seeming accord between Tristram and the\nking, but in his heart Mark nursed all his old bitterness, and hated him\nthe more that he had helped him. His secret fury soon found occasion to\nflame to the surface. For at the feast which was given in honor of the\nvictory, Eliot, the harper, appeared, and sang before the king and his\nlords the lay that Dinadan had made.\nThis was so full of ridicule and scorn of King Mark that he leaped from\nhis seat in a fury of wrath before the harper had half finished.\n\"Thou villanous twanger of strings!\" he cried. \"What hound sent you into\nthis land to insult me with your scurrilous songs?\"\n\"I am a minstrel,\" said Eliot, \"and must obey the orders of my lord.\nSir Dinadan made this song, if you would know, and bade me sing it\nhere.\"\n\"That jesting fool!\" cried Mark, in wrath. \"As for you, fellow, you\nshall go free through minstrels' license. But if you lose any time in\ngetting out of this country you may find that Cornish air is not good\nfor you.\"\nThe harper took this advice and hastened away, bearing letters from\nTristram to Lancelot and Dinadan. But King Mark turned the weight of his\nanger against Tristram, whom he believed had instigated this insult,\nwith the design to set all the nobles of his own court laughing at him.\nAnd well he knew that the villanous lay would be sung throughout the\nland, and that he would be made the jest of all the kingdom.\n\"They have their sport now,\" he said. \"Mine will come. Tristram of\nLyonesse shall pay dearly for this insult. And all that hold with him\nshall learn that King Mark of Cornwall is no child's bauble to be played\nwith.\"\nThe evil-minded king was not long in putting his project in execution.\nAt a tournament which was held soon afterwards Tristram was badly\nwounded, and King Mark, with great show of sorrow, had him borne to a\ncastle near by, where he took him under his own care as nurse and leech.\nHere he gave him a sleeping draught, and had him borne while slumbering\nto another castle, where he was placed in a strong prison cell, under\nthe charge of stern keepers.\nThe disappearance of Tristram made a great stir in the kingdom. La Belle\nIsolde, fearing treachery, went to a faithful knight named Sir Sadok,\nand begged him to try and discover what had become of the missing\nknight. Sadok set himself diligently to work; and soon learned that\nTristram was held captive in the castle of Lyonesse. Then he went to\nDinas, the seneschal, and others, and told them what had been done, at\nwhich they broke into open rebellion against King Mark, and took\npossession of all the towns and castles in the country of Lyonesse,\nfilling them with their followers.\nBut while the rebellious army was preparing to march on Tintagil, and\nforce King Mark to set free his prisoner, Tristram was delivered by the\nyoung knight Sir Percivale, who had come thither in search of\nadventures, and had heard of King Mark's base deed. Great was the joy\nbetween these noble knights, and Tristram said,--\n\"Will you abide in these marches, Sir Percivale? If so, I will keep you\ncompany.\"\n\"Nay, dear friend, I cannot tarry here. Duty calls me into Wales.\"\nBut before leaving Cornwall he went to King Mark, told him what he had\ndone, and threatened him with the revenge of all honorable knights if he\nsought again to injure his noble nephew.\n\"What would you have me do?\" asked the king. \"Shall I harbor a man who\nopenly makes love to my wife and queen?\"\n\"Is there any shame in a nephew showing an open affection for his\nuncle's wife?\" asked Percivale. \"No man will dare say that so noble a\nwarrior as Sir Tristram would go beyond the borders of sinless love, or\nwill dare accuse the virtuous lady La Belle Isolde of lack of chastity.\nYou have let jealousy run away with your wisdom, King Mark.\"\nSo saying, he departed; but his words had little effect on King Mark's\nmind. No sooner had Percivale gone than he began new devices to gratify\nhis hatred of his nephew. He sent word to Dinas, the seneschal, under\noath, that he intended to go to the Pope and join the war against the\ninfidel Saracens, which he looked upon as a nobler service than that of\nraising the people against their lawful king.\nSo earnest were his professions that Dinas believed him and dismissed\nhis forces, but no sooner was this done than King Mark set aside his\noath and had Tristram again privately seized and imprisoned.\nThis new outrage filled the whole realm with tumult and rebellious\nfeeling. La Belle Isolde was at first thrown into the deepest grief, and\nthen her heart swelled high with resolution to live no longer with the\ndastard who called her wife. Tristram at the same time privately sent\nher a letter, advising her to leave the court of her villanous lord, and\noffering to go with her to Arthur's realm, if she would have a vessel\nprivately made ready.\nThe queen thereupon had an interview with Dinas and Sadok, and begged\nthem to seize and imprison the king, since she was resolved to escape\nfrom his power.\nFurious at the fox-like treachery of the king, these knights did as\nrequested, for they formed a plot by which Mark was privately seized,\nand they imprisoned him secretly in a strong dungeon. At the same time\nTristram was delivered, and soon sailed openly away from Cornwall with\nLa Belle Isolde, gladly shaking the dust of that realm of treachery from\nhis feet.\nIn due time the vessel touched shore in King Arthur's dominions, and\ngladly throbbed the heart of the long-unhappy queen as her feet touched\nthat free and friendly soil. As for Tristram, never was lover fuller of\njoy, and life seemed to him to have just begun.\nNot long had they landed when a knightly chance brought Lancelot into\ntheir company. Warm indeed was the greeting of those two noble\ncompanions, and glad the welcome which Lancelot gave Isolde to English\nsoil.\n\"You have done well,\" he said, \"to fly from that wolf's den. There is no\nnoble knight in the world but hates King Mark and will honor you for\nleaving his palace of vile devices. Come with me, you shall be housed at\nmy expense.\"\nThen he rode with them to his own castle of Joyous Gard, a noble\nstronghold which he had won with his own hands. A royal castle it was,\ngarnished and provided with a richness which no king or queen could\nsurpass. Here Lancelot bade them use everything as their own, and\ncharged all his people to love and honor them as they would himself.\n\"Joyous Gard is yours as long as you will honor it by making it your\nhome,\" he said. \"As for me, I can have no greater joy than to know that\nmy castle is so nobly tenanted, and that Tristram of Lyonesse and Queen\nIsolde are my honored guests.\"\nLeaving them, Lancelot rode to Camelot, where he told Arthur and\nGuenever of what had happened, much to their joy and delight.\n\"By my crown,\" cried Arthur, joyfully, \"the coming of Tristram and\nIsolde to my realm is no everyday event, and is worthy of the highest\nhonor. We must signalize it with a noble tournament.\"\nThen he gave orders that a stately passage-at-arms should be held on\nMay-day at the castle of Lonazep, which was near Joyous Gard. And word\nwas sent far and near that the knights of his own realm of Logris, with\nthose of Cornwall and North Wales, would be pitted against those of the\nrest of England, of Ireland and Scotland, and of lands beyond the seas.\nCHAPTER II.\nHOW TRISTRAM BEFOOLED DINADAN.\nNever were two happier lovers than Tristram and Isolde at Joyous Gard.\nTheir days were spent in feasting and merriment, Isolde's heart\noverflowing with joy to be free from the jealousy of her ill-tempered\nspouse, and Tristram's to have his lady love to himself, far from\ntreacherous plots and murderous devices.\nEvery day Tristram went hunting, for at that time men say he was the\nbest courser at the chase in the world, and the rarest blower of the\nhorn among all lovers of sport. From him, it is said, came all the\nterms of hunting and hawking, the distinction between beasts of the\nchase and vermin, all methods of dealing with hounds and with game, and\nall the blasts of the chase and the recall, so that they who delight in\nhuntsmen's sport will have cause to the world's end to love Sir Tristram\nand pray for his soul's repose.\nYet Isolde at length grew anxious for his welfare, and said,--\n\"I marvel that you ride so much to the chase unarmed. This is a country\nnot well known to you, and one that contains many false knights, while\nKing Mark may lay some plot for your destruction. I pray you, my dear\nlove, to take more heed to your safety.\"\nThis advice seemed timely, and thereafter Tristram rode in armor to the\nchase, and followed by men who bore his shield and spear. One day, a\nlittle before the month of May, he followed a hart eagerly, but as the\nanimal led him by a cool woodland spring, he alighted to quench his\nthirst in the gurgling waters.\nHere, by chance, he met with Dinadan, who had come into that country in\nsearch of him. Some words of greeting passed between them, after which\nDinadan asked him his name, telling his own. This confidence Tristram\ndeclined to return, whereupon Dinadan burst out in anger.\n[Illustration: MARRIAGE OF SIR TRISTRAM.]\n\"You value your name highly, sir knight,\" he said. \"Do you design to\nride everywhere under a mask? Such a foolish knight as you I saw but\nlately lying by a well. He seemed like one asleep, and no word could be\ngot from him, yet all the time he grinned like a fool. The fellow was\neither an idiot or a lover, I know not which.\"\n\"And are not you a lover?\" asked Tristram.\n\"Marry, my wit has saved me from that craft.\"\n\"That is not well said,\" answered Tristram. \"A knight who disdains love\nis but half a man, and not half a warrior.\"\n\"I am ready to stand by my creed,\" retorted Dinadan. \"As for you,\nsirrah, you shall tell me your name, or do battle with me.\"\n\"You will not get my name by a threat, I promise you that,\" said\nTristram. \"I shall not fight till I am in the mood; and when I do, you\nmay get more than you bargain for.\"\n\"I fear you not, coward,\" said Dinadan.\n\"If you are so full of valor, here is your man,\" said Tristram, pointing\nto a knight who rode along the forest aisle towards them. \"He looks\nready for a joust.\"\n\"On my life, it is the same dull-plate knave I saw lying by the well,\nneither sleeping nor waking,\" said Dinadan.\n\"This is not the first time I have seen that covered shield of azure,\"\nsaid Tristram. \"This knight is Sir Epinegris, the son of the king of\nNorthumberland, than whom the land holds no more ardent lover, for his\nheart is gone utterly out to the fair daughter of the king of Wales.\nNow, if you care to find whether a lover or a non-lover is the better\nknight, here is your opportunity.\"\n\"I shall teach him to grin to more purpose,\" said Dinadan. \"Stand by and\nyou shall see.\"\nThen, as the lover approached, he cried,--\n\"Halt, sir knight, and make ready to joust, as is the custom with errant\nknights.\"\n\"Let it be so, if you will,\" answered Epinegris. \"Since it is the custom\nof you knight-errant to make a man joust whether he will or no, I am\nyour man.\"\n\"Make ready, then, for here is for you.\"\nThen they spurred their horses and rode together at full speed, Dinadan\nbreaking his spear, while Epinegris struck him so shrewd a blow that he\nrolled upon the earth.\n\"How now?\" cried Tristram. \"It seems to me that the lover has best\nsped.\"\n\"Will you play the coward?\" queried Dinadan. \"Or will you, like a good\nknight, revenge me?\"\n\"I am not in the mood,\" answered Tristram. \"Take your horse, Sir\nDinadan, and let us get away from here, where hard blows are more\nplentiful than soft beds.\"\n\"Defend me from such fellowship as yours!\" roared Dinadan. \"Take your\nway and I will take mine. We fit not well together.\"\n\"I might give you news of Sir Tristram.\"\n\"Sir Tristram, if he be wise, will seek better company. I can do without\nyour news, as I have had to do without your help,\" and he rode on in\nhigh dudgeon.\n\"Farewell, then,\" cried Tristram, laughing. \"It may happen we shall soon\nmeet again.\"\nTristram rode back in much amusement to Joyous Gard, but on coming near\nhe heard in the neighboring town a great outcry.\n\"What means this noise?\" he asked.\n\"Sir,\" he was told, \"a knight of the castle has just been slain by two\nstrangers, and for no other cause than saying that Sir Lancelot was a\nbetter knight than Sir Gawaine.\"\n\"Who would dispute that?\" said Tristram. \"It is a small cause for the\ndeath of a good man, that he stands for his lord's fame.\"\n\"But what remedy have we?\" said the towns-men. \"If Lancelot had been\nhere, these fellows would soon have been called to a reckoning. But,\nalas, he is away.\"\n\"I may do something in his service,\" answered Tristram. \"If I take his\nplace, I must defend his followers.\"\nThereupon he sent for his shield and spear, and rode in pursuit of the\ntwo knights, whom he overtook before they had gone far.\n\"Turn, sir dastards,\" he cried, \"and amend your misdeeds.\"\n\"What amends wish you?\" asked one of the knights. \"We are ready with\nspear and sword to make good whatever we have done.\"\nHe rode against Tristram, but was met so sturdily in mid career that he\nwas thrust over his horse's tail. Then the other rode against him, and\nwas served in the same rough manner.\nThey rose as quickly as they could, drew their swords, and challenged\nhim to battle on foot.\n\"You shall tell me your names,\" he said, sternly. \"I warn you that if it\ncomes to sword-play you will find more than your match. Yet you may have\nthat in your lineage which will keep you from my hands, however much you\ndeserve punishment for your evil deeds.\"\n\"As for our names, we dread not to tell them. We are Agravaine and\nGaheris, brothers to the good knight Gawaine, and nephews of King\nArthur.\"\n\"For Arthur's sake, then, I must let you pass unscathed. Yet it is a\ncrying shame that men of such good blood as you should play the part of\nmurderers. You slew among you a better knight than the best of your kin,\nLamorak de Galis, and I would to God I had been by at that time.\"\n\"You would have gone the same road,\" said Gaheris.\n\"Not without more knights to do it than you had in your murderous crew.\"\nWith these words he turned from them and rode back towards Joyous Gard.\nWhen he had gone they regained their horses, and feeling themselves safe\nin the saddle their courage returned.\n\"Let us pursue this boaster,\" they said, \"and see if he fares so much\nbetter than Lamorak.\"\nThey did so, and when they came near Tristram, who was jogging slowly\nalong, Agravaine cried,--\n\"Turn, traitor knight!\"\n\"Traitor in your teeth!\" cried Tristram, in a rage. \"I let you off too\ncheaply, it seems.\" And drawing his sword, he turned upon Agravaine and\nsmote him so fiercely on the helm that he fell swooning from his horse,\nwith a dangerous wound.\nThen he turned to Gaheris and dealt him a blow that in like manner\ntumbled him from his saddle to the earth. This done, Tristram turned and\nrode into the castle, leaving them like dead men in the road.\nHere he told La Belle Isolde of his several adventures. When he spoke\nof Dinadan, she asked,--\n\"Was it not he that made the song about King Mark?\"\n\"The same,\" answered Tristram. \"He is the greatest jester at Arthur's\ncourt, but a good knight withal, and I know no man whom I like better as\na comrade.\"\n\"Why did you not bring him with you?\"\n\"No need of that. He is seeking me through this country, and there is no\nfear that he will give up the search lightly.\"\nAs they spoke, a servant came and told Tristram that a knight-errant had\nentered the town, and described the device on his shield.\n\"That is our man now,\" said Tristram. \"That is Dinadan. Send for him,\nIsolde, and you shall hear the merriest knight and the maddest talker\nthat you ever spoke with. I pray you to make him heartily welcome, for\nhe is a cherished friend of mine.\"\nThen Isolde sent into the town with a message to Dinadan, begging that\nhe would come to the castle and rest a while there, at a lady's wish.\n\"That will I, with a good will,\" answered Dinadan. \"I were but a churl\nelse.\"\nHe hastened to mount and ride to the castle, and here he was shown to a\nchamber where he laid aside his armor. Then he was brought into the\npresence of La Belle Isolde, who courteously bade him welcome.\n\"Whence, come you, and what name do you bear?\" she asked.\n\"Madam,\" he answered, \"I am from King Arthur's court, and am one of the\nsmall fry of Round Table Knights. My name is Dinadan.\"\n\"And why came you hither?\"\n\"I am seeking my old friend and comrade, Sir Tristram, who I am told has\nmade his way to this country.\"\n\"That I cannot answer for,\" said Isolde. \"He may and he may not be here.\nSir Tristram will be found where love leads him.\"\n\"I warrant me that. Your true lover has no will of his own, but is led\nlike an ox, with a ring in his nose. I marvel what juice of folly gets\ninto the pates of these lovers to make them so mad about the women.\"\n\"Why, sir,\" said Isolde, \"can it be that you are a knight and no lover?\nI fancy that there can be no true man-of-arms who seeks not by his deeds\nto win the smiles of the fair.\"\n\"They who care to be fed on smiles are welcome to them, but I am not\nmade of that fashion,\" answered Dinadan. \"The joy of love is too short,\nand the sorrow thereof too long, to please my fancy.\"\n\"Say you so? Yet near here but to-day was the good knight Sir Bleoberis,\nhe who fought with three knights at once for a maiden's sake, and won\nher before the king of Northumberland.\"\n\"I know him for a worthy fellow,\" said Dinadan, \"as are all of\nLancelot's kindred. Yet he has crotchets in his head, like all that\ncrew.\"\n\"Now, I pray you,\" said Isolde, \"will you not do me the grace to fight\nfor my love with three knights that have done me great wrong? As you\nare a knight of King Arthur's, you can never say me nay in such a duty.\"\n\"Can I not?\" cried Dinadan. \"This much I will say, madam, that you are\nas fair a sample of womankind as ever I saw, and much more beautiful\nthan is my lady Queen Guenever. And yet, heaven defend me, I will not\nfight for you against three knights; and would not, were you Helen of\nTroy herself.\"\nAt these words, and the odd grimace which he made, La Belle Isolde burst\ninto a merry peal of laughter, and broke out with,--\n\"I know you better than you fancy, Sir Dinadan. And well you keep up\nyour credit of being a merry fellow. You are very welcome to my castle,\ngood sir.\"\nThey had much more of gameful conversation together, and Dinadan was\ntreated with all honor, and slept serenely at the castle that night. But\nTristram took good care to keep out of his sight.\nEarly the next day Tristram armed himself and prepared to ride away,\nsaying to the Lady Isolde that he would contrive to meet with Dinadan,\nand would ride with him to Lonazep, where the tournament was to be held.\nHe promised also to make arrangements to provide her with a good place\nfrom which to see the passage-at-arms. Then he departed, accompanied by\ntwo squires, who bore his shield and a brace of great and long spears.\nShortly afterwards Dinadan left the castle, bidding a merry adieu to the\nlady, and rode so briskly forward that he soon overtook Tristram. He\nknew him at sight for his yesterday's comrade, and made a sour grimace\nat beholding him.\n\"So,\" he said, \"here again is my easy-going friend, who wears his armor\nfor a holiday parade. You shall not get off so lightly to-day, fellow.\nYou shall joust with me, despite your head.\"\n\"Faith, I am not eager,\" said Tristram, \"but a wilful man will have his\nway; so let us have it over, if fight we must.\"\nThen they rode at each other, and Dinadan broke a spear on Tristram's\nshield, but Tristram purposely missed him.\nDinadan now bade him draw his sword.\n\"Not I,\" he answered. \"What makes you so warlike? I am not in the humor\nto fight.\"\n\"You shame all knights by your cowardice.\"\n\"So far as that goes, it troubles me little,\" said Tristram. \"Suppose,\nmy good sir, you take me under your protection. Though I bear arms I\nshall gladly accept the patronage of so worthy a knight as you.\"\n\"The devil deliver me of you!\" cried Dinadan. \"You are a fellow of\ngoodly build, and sit your horse like a warrior; but heaven knows if you\nhave blood or water in your veins. What do you propose to do with those\ngreat spears that your squire carries?\"\n\"I shall give them to some good knight at the tournament. If you prove\nthe best there, you are welcome to them.\"\nAs they thus conversed they saw a knight-errant in the road before them,\nwho sat with spear in rest as if eager to joust.\n\"Come,\" said Tristram, \"since you are so anxious for a fight, yonder is\nyour man.\"\n\"Shame betide you for a dastard,\" cried Dinadan. \"Fight him yourself.\nYou can't get more than a fall.\"\n\"Not so. That knight seems a shrewish fellow. It will need a stronger\nhand than mine to manage him.\"\n\"Good faith, then, here's to teach you a lesson,\" said Dinadan, and he\nrode fiercely against the other knight, with the unlucky result that he\nwas thrust from his horse, and fell headlong to the earth.\n\"What did I tell you?\" said Tristram. \"You had better have taken a\nlesson from my prudence, and let that good fellow alone.\"\n\"The fiends take you, coward!\" cried Dinadan, as he started to his feet\nand drew his sword. \"Come, sir knight, you are my better on horseback,\nlet us have it out on foot.\"\n\"Shall it be in love or in anger?\" said the other.\n\"Let it be in love. I am saving all my anger for this do-nothing who\ncame with me.\"\n\"Then I pray you to tell me your name.\"\n\"Folks call me Dinadan.\"\n\"Ah, and I am your comrade Gareth. I will not fight with an old friend\nlike Dinadan.\"\n\"Nor I with you, by my faith!\" cried Dinadan, seizing Gareth's hand and\ngiving it a warm pressure. \"Beaumains is safe from my spear. Here is a\nchap now, if you want to try your skill; but if you can get him to fight\nyou must first learn the art of converting a coward into a man of\nvalor.\"\nTristram laughed quietly at this, and bided his time. Nor was there long\nto wait, for just then a well-armed knight rode up, on a sturdy horse,\nand put his spear in rest as he approached.\n\"Now, my good sirs,\" said Tristram, \"choose between yourselves which\nwill joust with yonder knight; for I warn you that I will keep clear of\nhim.\"\n\"Faith, you had better,\" said Gareth. \"Leave him to me.\"\nAnd he rode against the knight but with such ill-fortune that he was\nthrust over his horse's croup.\n\"It is your turn now,\" said Tristram to Dinadan. \"Honor requires that\nyou should avenge your comrade Gareth.\"\n\"Honor does, eh? Then reason does not, and I always weigh reason against\nhonor. He has overturned a much bigger fellow than I, and with your kind\npermission I will not stir up that hornet.\"\n\"Aha, friend Dinadan, your heart fails you after all your boasting. Very\nwell, you shall see what the coward can do. Make ready, sir knight.\"\nThen Tristram rode against the victorious knight, and dealt him so\nshrewd a buffet that he was thrust from his horse.\nDinadan looked at this in amazement. Was this the fellow that professed\ncowardice and begged protection? \"The cunning rogue,\" he said to\nhimself, \"has been making game of me. The rascal! where has he learned\nthe art of turning my weapons on myself?\"\nThe dismounted knight rose to his feet in anger, and drawing his sword,\nchallenged Tristram to a fight on foot.\n\"First, tell me your name?\" asked Tristram.\n\"My name is Palamides.\"\n\"And what knight hate you most?\"\n\"I hate Sir Tristram to the death. If we meet, one of us must die.\"\n\"You need not go far to seek him. I am Tristram de Lyonesse. Now do your\nworst.\"\nAt this Dinadan started, and struck his hand sturdily on his knee, like\none who has had a shock of surprise. Nor was Palamides less astonished,\nand he stood before Tristram like one in a sudden revulsion of feeling.\n\"I pray you, Sir Tristram,\" he said, \"to forgive my ill-will and my\nunkind words. You are a noble knight and worthy of the love of all\nhonorable warriors. I repent my truculent temper towards you, and, if I\nlive, will rather do you service than assail you.\"\n\"I know your valor well,\" answered Tristram, \"and that it is anything\nbut fear makes you speak so. Therefore I thank you much for your kind\nwords. But if you have any shreds of ill-will towards me I am ready to\ngive you satisfaction.\"\n\"My wits have been astray,\" answered Palamides. \"There is no just reason\nwhy we should be at odds, and I am ready to do you knightly service in\nall things you may command.\"\n\"I take you at your word,\" cried Tristram, as he grasped Palamides by\nthe hand. \"I have never been your enemy, and know none whom I would\nrather have as a friend.\"\n\"Would you?\" cried Dinadan. \"And would have me as your fool, mayhap? By\nmy knightly faith, you have made a sweet butt of me! I came into this\ncountry for your sake, and by the advice of Sir Lancelot, though he\nwould not tell me where to find you. By Jove's ears, I never thought to\nfind you masquerading as a milk-brained coward.\"\n\"He could have told you,\" said Tristram, \"for I abode within his own\ncastle. As for my little sport, friend Dinadan, I cry you mercy.\"\n\"Faith, it is but one of my own jests, turned against me,\" said Dinadan,\nwith a merry laugh. \"I am pinked with my own dart. I forgive you, old\ncomrade; but I vow I did not know you had such a jolly humor.\"\n\"It comes to one in your company,\" said Tristram, laughing. \"The disease\nis catching.\"\nAnd so the four knights rode gayly onward, conversing much as they went,\nand laying their plans for the tournament.\nCHAPTER III.\nON THE ROAD TO LONAZEP.\nThe four knights rode onward in company until they came in sight of the\ncastle of Lonazep, where they saw striking preparations for the\ntournament. For not less than four hundred tents and pavilions covered\nthe plain outside the great circle of the lists, and war-horses and\nknights in armor were there in hundreds.\n\"Truly,\" said Tristram, \"this is the royalest show that I ever saw.\"\n\"You forget,\" answered Palamides. \"It had its equal at the Castle of\nMaidens, where you won the prize.\"\n\"And in that tournament which Galahalt of the Long Isles held in Surluse\nthere was as great a gathering,\" said Dinadan.\n\"I was not there; who won the prize?\" asked Tristram.\n\"Lancelot du Lake, and the next after him was the noble knight Lamorak\nde Galis.\"\n\"A noble fellow, indeed, I never met his better, save Sir Lancelot. His\nmurder was shameful, and were they not the nephews of my lord Arthur\nthat slew him, by my faith they should die the death. And this without\nprejudice to you, Sir Gareth.\"\n\"Say what you will on that point; I am with you,\" answered Gareth.\n\"Though my own brothers did that bloody work, I hold not with them. None\nof them love me, as you well know, and I have left their company as\nmurderers. Had I been by when Lamorak was killed there might have been\nanother tale to tell.\"\n\"Truly that is well said of you,\" rejoined Tristram. \"I would rather\nhave been there than to have all the gold between here and Rome.\"\n\"And I also,\" said Palamides. \"It is a burning disgrace to the Round\nTable fellowship that such a knight should have been ambushed and slain\non his way from a passage-at-arms where he had won the prize of valor.\"\n\"Out on such treason!\" cried Tristram. \"The tale of it makes my blood\nrun cold.\"\n\"And mine as well,\" said Gareth. \"I can never love or respect my\nbrothers again for that ruthless deed.\"\n\"Yet to speak of it is useless,\" said Palamides. \"His life is gone; we\ncannot bring it back again.\"\n\"There lies the pity,\" said Dinadan. \"No matter how good and noble a man\nmay be, when he stops breathing all else stops with him. By good luck,\nthough, the same rule holds with villains and cowards. As for Gawaine\nand his brothers, except you, Sir Gareth, they hate the best knights of\nthe Round Table, and Lancelot and his kindred above all. Only that\nLancelot is well aware of this, they might draw him into as deadly a\ntrap as they drew poor Lamorak.\"\n\"Come, come, remember that Gareth is their brother,\" said Palamides.\n\"Let us change the subject. Here is this tournament,--what part shall we\nplay here? My advice is that we four hold together against all that may\nassail us.\"\n\"That is not my counsel,\" said Tristram. \"By their pavilions we may\ncount on some four hundred knights, and doubtless many of them worthy\nones. If we play the game of four against all comers we are likely to\nfind ourselves borne down by numbers. Many good knights have lost the\ngame by taking too great odds. Manhood is of little avail if it be not\ntempered by wisdom. If you think it best we may try it, and see what we\ncan do in company, but, as a rule, I prefer to fight for my own hand.\"\nAs they thus talked they rode away from Lonazep, and in due time came to\nthe banks of the Humber, where they were surprised by a loud and\ngrievous cry that seemed full of doleful meaning. Looking over the\nwaters they saw approaching before the wind a vessel richly draped with\nred silk. Not long had they waited when it came to the shore, at a point\nclose by where they stood.\nSeeing this strange thing and hearing the doleful cries which came from\nthe vessel, the knights gave their horses in care of their squires, and\napproached on foot, Tristram boarding the vessel. When he reached the\ndeck he saw there a bed with rich silken coverings, on which lay a dead\nknight, armed save the head, which was crimsoned with blood. And through\ngreat gaps in his armor deadly wounds could be seen.\n\"What means this?\" said Tristram. \"How came this knight by his death?\"\nAs he spoke he saw that a letter lay in the dead knight's hand.\n\"Master mariners,\" he asked of those on board the vessel, \"what does\nthis strange thing signify?\"\n\"Sir knight,\" they answered, \"by the letter which the dead knight bears\nyou may learn how and for what cause he was slain, and what name he\nbore. Yet first heed well this warning: No man must take and read that\nletter unless he be a knight of proved valor, and faithfully promises to\nrevenge the murder of this good warrior.\"\n\"There be those among us able to revenge him,\" answered Tristram. \"And\nif he shall prove to have been foully treated his death shall not go\nunredressed.\"\nTherewith he took the letter from the knight's hand and opened it. Thus\nit read,--\n\"I, Hermance, king and lord of the Red City, request of all\nknights-errant and all noble knights of Arthur's court, that they find\none knight who will fight for my sake with two false brethren, whom I\nbrought up from nothingness and who have feloniously and treacherously\nslain me. And it is my will and desire that the valiant knight who\navenges my death shall become lord of my Red City and all my castles.\"\n\"Sir,\" said the mariners, \"the king and knight that lies here dead was a\nman of great virtue and noble prowess, and one who loved all\nknights-errant, and, above all, those of King Arthur's court.\"\n\"It is a piteous case, truly,\" said Tristram. \"I would fain take the\nenterprise in hand myself, but that I have made a solemn promise to take\npart in this great tournament. It was for my sake in especial that my\nlord Arthur made it, and I cannot in honor and courtesy fail to attend\nit. Therefore I am not free to undertake any adventure which may keep me\nfrom the lists.\"\n\"I pray you, dear sir,\" said Palamides, who had followed Tristram into\nthe vessel, \"to put this enterprise into my hands. I promise to achieve\nit worthily or to die in the effort.\"\n\"Be it so,\" said Tristram. \"You may go if you will. But first I wish\nyour promise to return so as to be with me at the tournament this day\nweek, if possible.\"\n\"That promise I freely give. If I be alive and unhurt, and my task be\nnot too arduous and long, I shall be with you by that day.\"\nThis said, Tristram left the vessel, leaving Palamides in it, and he,\nwith Gareth and Dinadan, stood watching it as the mariners hoisted its\nsails and it glided swiftly away over long Humber. Not till it was out\nof sight did they return to their horses, and look about them.\nAs they did so they beheld near them a knight, who came up unarmed save\na sword, and saluted them with all courtesy.\n\"Fair sirs,\" he said, \"I pray you, as knights-errant, to come and see my\ncastle, and take such fare as you may find there. This I heartily\nrequest.\"\n\"That shall we willingly do, and thank you for your courtesy,\" they\nanswered, and rode with him to his castle, which was near by.\nHere they entered a richly-furnished hall, and, having laid off their\narmor, took their seats at a well-laden table. But when the host saw\nTristram's face, he knew him, and first grew pale and then angry of\ncountenance.\n\"Sir, mine host,\" said Tristram, on seeing this threatening aspect,\n\"what is wrong with you, I pray?\"\n\"I know you, Tristram de Lyonesse,\" answered the knight, hotly. \"You\nslew my brother. Honor demands that I shall not seek revenge here, but I\ngive you warning that I will kill you when I meet you outside my\ncastle.\"\n\"I have no knowledge of you or your brother,\" answered Tristram. \"But no\nman can say that I ever killed any one except in fair and open fight. If\nI have done as you say I stand ready to make what amends are in my\npower.\"\n\"I desire no amends,\" rejoined the knight. \"But I warn you to keep from\nme.\"\nTristram at this rose from the table and asked for his arms, his\ncompanions following him. Seeking their horses they rode away, but they\nhad not gone far from the castle when Dinadan saw a knight following\nthem, who was well armed, but bore no shield.\n\"Take care of yourself, Sir Tristram,\" he said. \"Yonder comes our host\nto call you to account.\"\n\"Then I must abide him as I may,\" answered Tristram.\nSoon the knight came up, and, loudly bidding Tristram to be on his\nguard, he rode furiously upon him with couched spear. But his valor went\nbeyond his strength, for he was hurled over his horse's croup.\nNot content with this, he rose, mounted again, and driving his horse at\nfull speed upon Tristram, struck him two hard blows on the helm.\n\"Sir knight,\" said Tristram, \"I pray you leave off this sport. I do not\ncare to harm you after having just eaten at your table, but beg you not\nto try my patience too far.\"\nThe furious assailant would not cease, however, and continued his\nassaults until Tristram was provoked to anger. In the end he returned\nthe knight a blow with the full strength of his mighty arm, so fierce a\nbuffet, indeed, that the blood burst out from the breathing holes of his\nhelm, and he fell to the earth and lay there like one dead.\n[Illustration: THE ASSAULT OF SIR TRISTRAM.]\n\"I hope I have not killed him,\" said Tristram. \"I did not think to\nstrike the man so hard a blow, but I am not a log to stand at rest and\nlet him whet his sword on.\"\nLeaving the fallen knight to the care of his squire, they rode on; but\nnot far had they gone when they saw coming towards them two well-armed\nand well-horsed knights, each with a good following of servants. One of\nthese was Berrant le Apres, he who was called the king with the hundred\nknights, and the other Sir Segwarides, both men of might and renown.\nWhen they came up the king looked at Dinadan, who, through sport, had\nput on Tristram's helmet. This he recognized as one he had seen before\nwith the queen of Northgalis, whom he loved. She had given it to La\nBelle Isolde, and she to Tristram.\n\"Sir knight,\" asked Berrant, \"whence had you that helm?\"\n\"Not from you, I fancy. What have you to say to it?\"\n\"That I will have a tilt with you, for the love of her who once owned\nit. Therefore, defend yourself.\"\nSo they drew asunder, and rode at each other with all the speed of their\nhorses. But Dinadan, good knight as he was, was no match for the tough\nand hardy warrior before him, and was sent, horse and all, to the\nground.\n\"I fancy I have something to say about the helmet now,\" said Berrant,\ngrimly. \"Go take it off him, and keep it,\" he ordered his servant.\n\"What will you do?\" cried Tristram. \"Hands off, fellow. Touch not that\nhelm.\"\n\"To what intent do you meddle, sir knight?\" demanded Berrant.\n\"To this intent, that the helm is mine. Nor will you get it from me till\nyou buy it at a dearer price.\"\n\"Do you mean that as a challenge?\" asked Berrant. \"Be it so, then; make\nready.\"\nTogether they rode with all speed, but with a change of fortune, for\nBerrant found himself thrust over the tail of his horse. In a moment he\nwas on his feet, sprang briskly to his saddle, and, riding in anger upon\nTristram, struck at him fiercely with his sword.\nTristram was not taken unawares, but in an instant had his sword in\nhand. A fierce combat followed, for the king with the hundred knights\nwas a warrior of tough sinews and tried valor, but at the last he\nreceived such a buffet on the helm that he fell forward on his horse's\nneck, stunned and helpless.\n\"By my faith, that helmet has proved unlucky for two of us,\" said\nDinadan. \"It brought me a tumble, and now, sir king, you owe it a\nbuzzing head-piece.\"\n\"Who will joust with me?\" asked Segwarides.\n\"It is your right,\" said Gareth to Dinadan, \"but I pray you let me have\nit.\"\n\"You are heartily welcome to it. One tumble a day is enough for my weak\nappetite,\" answered Dinadan. \"I make you a free present of the\nopportunity.\"\n\"That is no fair exchange,\" said Tristram. \"The joust is yours by\nright.\"\n\"But not by choice,\" rejoined Dinadan. \"Good faith, sir bruiser, I have\nlived long enough to know when I have had my share, and that is a\nlesson it would pay many of you battle-hungry knights to learn.\"\nThen Gareth and Segwarides rode together, the result being that Gareth\nand his horse went in a heap to the earth.\n\"Now,\" said Tristram, \"the joust is yours.\"\n\"But the appetite is lacking,\" said Dinadan. \"I have even less stomach\nfor it than before.\"\n\"Then will I try him.\"\nWith these words Tristram challenged Segwarides, who received a sore\nfall in the joust that followed. Then the three knights rode on, leaving\ntheir late antagonists the worse in heart and limb for the encounter.\nThey continued their ride till they reached Joyous Gard. Here Gareth\ncourteously declined to enter the castle, but Tristram would not hear of\nhis departure, and made him alight and enter as his guest. So they\ndisarmed and had good cheer, with La Belle Isolde as their hostess.\nBut Dinadan, when he came into the presence of Isolde, roundly cursed\nthe hour that he had been persuaded to wear Tristram's helm, and told\nher of how he had been mocked by his comrade knight.\nMuch laughing and jesting at Dinadan followed, but this was a game in\nwhich he was quite able to hold his own, however he might lack with\nsword and spear. For Arthur's court held no other so witty of tongue and\nmerry of heart. And thus in jest and feast they passed the hours happily\naway.\nCHAPTER IV.\nHOW PALAMIDES FARED AT THE RED CITY.\nLeaving Tristram and his companions to their merry talk in Joyous Gard,\nwe must now return to Palamides. The ship into which he had entered\nsailed far along the Humber, until in time it reached the open sea. It\ncontinued its course through the sea-waves till it came to a part of the\ncoast where stood a stately castle.\nAll day and night they had sailed, and it was now early in the morning,\nbefore day-dawn. Palamides was sound asleep in the vessel's cabin when\nthe mariners came to call him.\n\"Sir knight,\" they said, \"you must arise. We have reached a castle,\nwhich you must enter.\"\n\"I am at your command,\" he replied.\nRising, he armed himself quickly, and then blew a loud call upon a horn\nwhich the mariners gave him.\nAt the ringing music of that bugle-blast the sleeping castle seemed to\nstir into life. Soon many eyes could be seen looking from the windows,\nand ere long the walls were crowded with knights, who called to\nPalamides as with one voice, \"Welcome, fair sir, to this castle.\"\nThe day had now fully dawned, and Palamides entered the castle, where a\ncrowd of knights came to greet him, and led him to a stately\ndining-hall, where an abundant breakfast awaited him. But as he ate he\nheard much lamentation, and saw many whose eyes were wet with tears.\n\"What means this?\" he asked. \"I love not such sorrow, and would fain\nknow what gives rise to it.\"\n\"We mourn here daily,\" answered a knight named Sir Ebel, \"and for this\ncause. We had a king named Hermance, who was lord of the Red City, and\nin every way a noble and generous monarch. And he loved nothing in the\nworld so much as the knights-errant of King Arthur's court, together\nwith the sports of jousting, hunting, and all knightly diversions. A\nking so kind of heart as he was never before known in this country, and\nwe shall ever be filled with sorrow for his loss. Yet he acted unwisely,\nand is himself at fault for his death.\"\n\"Tell me how he was slain and by whom,\" asked Palamides.\n\"In this wise it came to pass,\" answered Ebel. \"He brought up, in pure\ncharity, two children, who are now strong knights. And to them he gave\nall his trust and confidence, in default of those of his own blood.\nThese two men governed him completely, and, through him, his lands and\npeople, for they took the best of care that none of his kindred should\ncome into power. He was so free and trustful, and they so politic and\ndeceitful, that they ruled him as though they were the kings and he the\nsubject. When the lords of our king's blood saw that he had fallen into\nthis dotage they left the court in disgust, and sought their livelihood\nelsewhere. This it proved not wise to do, for when these villains found\nthat all the king's kindred had left the realm they schemed to have more\npower still; for, as the old saw says, 'Give a churl rule in part, and\nhe will not be content till he has it all.' It is the instinct of the\nbase-born to destroy gentlemen-born, if the power be put in their hands,\nand all rulers should take warning by the fate of King Hermance. In the\nend our king, by the advice of these traitors, rode into the forest here\nby, to chase the red deer. When he had become warm from the hunt he\nalighted to drink at a woodland spring, and, while he was bent over the\nwater, one of these villains thrust him through the body with a spear.\nThey then fled from the spot, thinking he was dead. Shortly after they\nhad gone, fortune brought me to the spot, where I found my lord still\nalive, but mortally hurt, and learned from him his story. Knowing that\nwe had no knights able to revenge him on his murderers, I had him\nbrought to the water, and put into the ship alive, and the letter which\nhe bore in his hand I wrote from his own words. Then he died, and, as he\nhad ordered, the ship set sail up the Humber, bound for the realm of\nLogris, where it was hoped that some valiant Knight of the Round Table\nwould take this adventure on himself.\"\n\"Truly your doleful tale grieves me sorely,\" said Palamides. \"I saw the\nletter you speak of. It was read to me by one of the best knights upon\nthe earth, and it is by his command I am here. I came to revenge your\nking, and I shall never be at ease till I meet with and punish his\nmurderers.\"\n\"You have my hearty thanks and best wishes,\" said Ebel. \"Since you\naccept this adventure, you must enter the ship again, and sail forward\ntill you reach the Delectable Isle, which is near by the Red City. We\nshall await here your return. If you speed well this castle is yours.\nKing Hermance built it for the two traitors, but we hold it against\nthem, and they threaten us sorely unless we yield it.\"\n\"Look that you keep it, whatsoever may come to me,\" said Palamides. \"For\nif fortune decides that I am to be slain in this quest, I trust that one\nof the best knights in the world will come to revenge me; either\nTristram de Lyonesse or Lancelot du Lake.\"\nThen Palamides entered the ship and sailed away towards the Red City.\nBut as he came near it, and landed on the coast, another ship touched\nshore near by, from which came a goodly knight, with his shield on his\nshoulder and his hand on his sword.\n\"Sir knight, what seek you here?\" he asked Palamides. \"If you have come\nto revenge King Hermance you must yield this quest to me, for it was\nmine before it was yours, and I shall yield it to no man.\"\n\"You speak like a true knight,\" said Palamides. \"But when the letter was\ntaken from the dead king's hand there was nothing known of any champion\nfor him, and so I promised to revenge him. And this I must and shall do,\nlest I win shame instead of honor.\"\n\"You have right on your side,\" said the knight. \"What I propose is this.\nI will fight with you; and he who proves the better knight shall have\nthe quest.\"\n\"That fits with my fancy,\" said Palamides; \"for from what I hear no\nsecond-rate champion can watch this pair of villains.\"\nWith this they advanced their shields and drew their swords, and began a\nstern and well-contested combat. For more than an hour the fight between\nthem continued, but at the end of this time Palamides seemed stronger\nand better-winded than at the beginning, and he finally dealt his\nopponent a blow that brought him to his knees. Then the discomfited\ncombatant cried out,--\n\"Knight, hold your hand.\"\nPalamides let fall his sword at this request.\n\"You are the better of us two, and more worthy of this battle,\" said the\nknight. \"But fain would I know your name.\"\n\"My name is Palamides. I am a Knight of the Round Table, and one well\nknown in Arthur's realm.\"\n\"In good faith it is, and much beyond that realm,\" answered the knight.\n\"I know only three living men besides yourself who are fitted for this\ntask, and they are Lancelot, Tristram, and my cousin Lamorak. As for me,\nmy name is Hermind, and I am brother to the murdered King Hermance.\"\n\"I shall do my best to revenge your brother,\" said Palamides. \"If I am\nslain, I commend you to Lancelot or Tristram. As for Lamorak, he will\nnever strike blow again.\"\n\"Alas, what mean you?\"\n\"That he has been murdered--waylaid and slain treacherously by Gawaine\nand his brothers, except Sir Gareth, the best of them all.\" And he told\nthe story of the death of Lamorak, much to the grief and indignation of\nhis hearer.\nThen Palamides took ship again, and sailed on till he came to the\nDelectable Isle. Meanwhile Hermind made all haste to the Red City, where\nhe told of the arrival of the famous knight Palamides and of his combat\nwith him. The people were filled with joy at these tidings, and quickly\nsent a messenger to the two brethren, bidding them to make ready, as a\nknight had come who would fight them both. The messenger found them at a\ncastle near by, and delivered his message.\n\"Who is this champion?\" they asked. \"Is it Lancelot or any of his\nblood?\"\n\"No.\"\n\"If it were, we would not fight. But we care for no one else.\"\n\"It is a good knight though, Sir Palamides, a Saracen by birth, and\nstill unchristened.\"\n\"He had best have been christened before he came here, for it will be\ntoo late when we have done with him. Let him know that we will be at the\nRed City in two days, and will give him all the fighting he is likely to\nwant for the rest of his life.\"\nWhen Palamides came to the city he was received with the greatest joy,\nand the more so when the people saw what a handsome and well-built man\nhe was, neither too young nor too old, with clean and powerful limbs,\nand no defect of body.\nAt the time appointed there came to the city the two brethren, Helius\nand Helake by name, both of them strong and valiant men, of great\nprowess in war, false as they were at heart. And with them they brought\nforty knights, to guard them against any treachery from the Red City,\nfor they knew well that it was filled with their enemies.\nThe lists had already been prepared, and at the appointed hour Palamides\nentered full armed, and confronted his antagonists boldly.\n\"Are you the two brethren Helius and Helake, who slew your king by\ntreason?\" he asked.\n\"We are the men who slew King Hermance,\" they replied. \"And bear in\nmind, Sir Saracen, we are able to stand by our deeds, and will handle\nyou so before you depart that you will wish you had been christened\nbefore you came so far.\"\n\"I trust to God I shall die a better Christian than either of you,\"\nPalamides replied. \"And you had best kill me if you get the chance, for\nI vow not to spare you.\"\nAs he spoke the trumpet sounded, and, reining back their horses, they\nrode against each other with terrific speed. Palamides directed his\nspear against Helake, and struck him so mighty a blow that the spear\npierced through his shield and hauberk, and for a fathom's length\nthrough his breast, hurling him dead to the earth. As for Helius, he\nheld up his spear in pride and presumption, and rode by Palamides\nwithout touching him.\nBut when he saw his brother stretched in death on the earth his\nassurance changed to doubt, and rage drove the pride from his heart.\n\"Help thyself, villain!\" he cried, and rushed upon Palamides before he\ncould prepare to encounter him, striking him a blow with his spear that\nbore him from his saddle to the earth. Then he forced his horse over\nhim backward and forward before the dismounted champion could regain his\nfeet.\nAs he came again, the fallen knight reached up and caught the horse by\nthe bridle, dragging himself by its aid to his feet. Then, as the animal\nreared, he pressed so strongly upon it that it toppled backward to the\nground, the rider barely saving himself from being crushed beneath his\nfallen horse. But he was on his feet in an instant, and, sword in hand,\nstruck Palamides a blow on the helm that brought him down to one knee.\nBefore he could repeat the blow the gallant Saracen was on his feet and\nhad drawn his trenchant blade, with which he attacked his antagonist in\nturn. A fierce and deadly combat succeeded, the two knights hurtling\ntogether like two wild boars, now both hurled grovelling to the earth,\nnow on foot again and hewing at each other with the strength of giants.\nThus for two hours they fought, without time for rest or a moment's\nspace to recover breath. At the end of that time Palamides grew faint\nand weary from the violence of his efforts, but Helius seemed as strong\nas ever, and redoubling his strokes he drove back the Saracen knight\nstep by step, over all the field. At this the people of the city were\nfilled with fear, while the party of Helius shouted with triumph.\n\"Alas!\" cried the citizens, \"that this noble knight should be slain for\nour king's sake.\"\nWhile they thus bewailed his threatened fate and the seeming victory of\ntheir tyrant, Helius showered so many vigorous blows on his weakened\nfoe that it was a wonder he kept his feet. But when he saw how the\ncommon people wept for him his heart was filled with a sense of shame,\nwhile a glow of fury burned like fire in his veins.\n\"Fie on you for a dastard, Palamides!\" he said to himself. \"Why hang you\nyour head so like a whipped hound?\"\nThen, with a new spirit burning hotly within him, and fresh strength\nanimating his limbs, he lifted his drooping shield and turned on Helius\nwith lion-like fury, smiting him a vigorous blow on the helm, which he\nfollowed quickly by others. This violent onset was too much for the\nstrained strength of the false knight, and he retreated in dismay, while\nthe sword of Palamides fell with ever more and more might. At length\ncame so mighty a blow that he was hurled like a log to the earth. The\nvictorious Saracen gave him no time to recover, but sprang upon him like\na fury, tore the helm from his head, and with a final stroke smote the\nhead from his body.\nThen he rose and stood leaning upon his sword, hardly able to bear\nhimself on his feet, while from all the people of the city went up loud\nshouts of joy and congratulation.\n\"Palamides, the conqueror! Palamides, our deliverer! Palamides, our\nking!\" they shouted, while one adorned his brows with a wreath of\nlaurel, and others tore off his armor and applied ointments to his\nbleeding limbs.\n\"Fair friends, your crown is not for me,\" he said. \"I have delivered you\nfrom your tyrants, but you must choose some other king, as I am under\npromise to return with all speed to my lord King Arthur at the castle of\nLonazep.\"\nThis decision filled them with grief, but they brought him to the city\nand treated him with all the honor which they could bestow upon him. And\nas he persisted in his refusal of the crown, they proffered him a third\npart of their goods if he would remain with them. All this he declined,\nand in a short time departed, bearing with him a thousand good wishes\nand prayers for success and fortune.\nHe was received with like joy and congratulation at the castle, Sir Ebel\nwarmly pressing him to change his decision and remain as their king. To\nthis Palamides would by no means consent, and after a day's stay he took\nship again, and sailed up the Humber to the castle of Lonazep.\n[Illustration: SIR TRISTRAM AT JOYOUS GARD.]\nCHAPTER V.\nTHE TOURNAMENT AT LONAZEP.\nWhen Palamides learned that Tristram was not at Lonazep, he tarried not\nthere, but crossed the Humber, and sought him at Joyous Gard. Here he\nfound lodgings in the town, and word was quickly brought to Tristram\nthat a knight-errant had come.\n\"What manner of man is he? and what sign does he bear?\" he asked.\nThe messenger described his armor and appearance.\n\"That is Palamides,\" said Dinadan. \"The brave fellow is already back,\nand victorious, I doubt not.\"\n\"It looks that way, indeed. Go and bid him welcome to Joyous Gard,\" said\nTristram.\nSo Dinadan went to Palamides, and joyfully greeted him, listening\neagerly to the story of his exploits, and congratulating him on his\nsignal success. He remained with him that night, and in the morning they\nwere visited by Tristram and Gareth before they had arisen.\nMany were the warm congratulations which Tristram gave Palamides on his\nnoble achievement, and after they had breakfasted he invited him to ride\ninto the fields and woods, that they might repose under the cool shelter\nof the forest. Here they alighted by a refreshing spring, and as they\nsat conversing an armed knight came riding towards them.\n\"Who are those knights that are lodged in Joyous Gard?\" he asked.\n\"That I cannot say,\" answered Tristram.\n\"At any rate you can tell me who you are. You are not knights-errant, I\nfancy, since you ride unarmed.\"\n\"Whether we be or no, we prefer not to tell our names.\"\n\"You are not courteous, sir knight, and this is the way I pay\ndiscourtesy,\" said the stranger. \"Guard yourself, or you shall die by\nmy hands.\"\nThen, spear in hand, he rode on Sir Tristram, with brutal intent to run\nhim through. But Palamides sprang up hastily, and smote the knight's\nhorse so fierce a blow with his clinched fist that horse and man fell\ntogether to the earth. He then drew his sword to slay him.\n\"Let the dog go,\" said Tristram. \"He is but a fool, and it were a shame\nto slay him for his folly. Take the fellow's spear from him, though. It\nis a weapon he has not learned the use of.\"\nThe knight rose groaning, and when he had regained his saddle he again\nrequested their names.\n\"My name is Tristram de Lyonesse, and this knight's name is Palamides.\nWould you know more?\"\n\"No, by my faith!\" cried the other, and, hastily putting spurs to his\nhorse, he rode away as fast as the animal would carry him.\nHardly had he gone when a knight, who bore a bended shield of azure,\ncame riding up at a furious gallop.\n\"My fair sirs,\" he asked, \"has a knight passed here bearing a shield\nwith a case of red over it?\"\n\"Yes. We but now had some trouble with such a fellow. Who is he?\"\n\"And you let him escape? That was ill-advised, fair sirs. He is the\nfalsest rogue and the greatest foe to knights-errant living. His name is\nBreuse Sans Pit\u00e9.\"\n\"And I had him under my sword!\" cried Palamides. \"Fool I was to let him\ngo.\"\n\"If I overtake him there will be another story to tell,\" answered the\nknight, as he spurred onward on the track of the fugitive.\nThen the four friends mounted and rode leisurely back towards Joyous\nGard, much conversing as they went. When they reached the castle\nPalamides wished not to enter, but Tristram insisted on it, and, taking\nhim by the hand, led him in.\nWhen Palamides saw La Belle Isolde, whom he had not met for years, but\nfor whom his love burned as warmly as ever, he was so ravished with joy\nthat he could scarcely speak. And when they were at dinner he could not\neat a morsel, but sat like a dumb man, scarcely venturing to raise his\neyes to Isolde's lovely countenance.\nPoorly he slept that night, and with many dreams of her he loved. When\nmorning broke they all prepared to ride to Lonazep. Tristram took with\nhim three squires, and Queen Isolde had three gentlewomen, all attired\nwith great richness. These, with the other knights and their squires,\nand valets to bear their shields and spears, formed their train.\nNot far had they gone before they saw on the road before them a group of\nknights. Chief of these was the knight Galihodin, who was attended by\ntwenty companions.\n\"Fair fellows,\" said Galihodin, \"yonder come four knights escorting a\nrichly-attired lady. What say you? shall we take her from them?\"\n\"That is not the best counsel,\" said one.\n\"At any rate, it is my counsel,\" answered Galihodin. \"We shall show them\nthat we have the right of the road.\" And he sent a squire to them,\nasking them if they would joust, or else lose their lady.\n\"We are but four,\" said Tristram. \"Tell your lord to come with three of\nhis comrades, and win her if he can.\"\n\"Let me have this joust,\" said Palamides. \"I will undertake them all\nfour.\"\n\"As you will,\" said Tristram. \"Go tell your lord that this one knight\nwill encounter him and any three of his fellows.\"\nThe squire departed with his challenge, and in a trice Galihodin came\nriding forward spear in rest. Palamides encountered him in mid career,\nand smote him so hard a blow that he had a terrible fall to the earth,\nand his horse with him. His three comrades were served in the same\nsummary manner, while Palamides still bore an unbroken spear. At this\nunlooked-for result six knights rode out from the opposite party with\npurpose of revenge on the victor.\n\"Hold your hands,\" cried Galihodin. \"Let not one of you touch this noble\nknight, who has proved himself a man of worth. And I doubt if the whole\nof you could handle him.\"\nWhen Palamides saw that the field was yielded to him he rode back to Sir\nTristram.\n\"Well and worshipfully have you done,\" said Tristram. \"No man could have\nsurpassed you.\"\nOnward they rode again, and in a little while after met four knights in\nthe highway, with spears in rest. These were Gawaine and three\ncompanions. This joust also Tristram gave to Palamides, and he served\nthese four as he had served the others, leaving them all unhorsed in\nthe road. For the presence of La Belle Isolde gave the strength of ten\nmen to the arm of her lover, the Saracen.\nThey now continued their route without molestation, and in good time\nreached the spot where Tristram had ordered his pavilions to be set up.\nHere were now many more pavilions than they had seen on their previous\nvisit, and a great array of knights, who had been gathering for many\ndays, for far and wide had spread the news of the great tournament.\nLeaving Palamides and Gareth at the pavilions with Queen Isolde,\nTristram and Dinadan rode to Lonazep to learn what was afoot, Tristram\nriding on the Saracen knight's white horse. As they came into the castle\nthe sound of a great bugle-blast met their ears, and many knights\ncrowded forward.\n\"What means the blast?\" asked Tristram.\n\"Sir,\" answered a knight, \"it comes from the party who hold against King\nArthur at this tournament. These are the kings of Ireland, of Surluse,\nof Listinoise, of Northumberland, of North Wales, and of other\ncountries. They are calling a council to decide how they shall be\ngoverned in the lists.\"\nTristram thereupon followed them to their council, and listened to the\ndebate. He then sought his horse again, and rode by where King Arthur\nstood surrounded by a press of knights. Among those were Galihodin and\nGawaine, who said to the king: \"That knight in the green harness, with\nthe white horse, is a man of might, whoever he be. To-day he overthrew\nus both, with six of our fellows.\"\n\"Who can he be?\" said the king, and he called Tristram to him, and\nrequested to know his name.\n\"I beg pardon, my liege lord,\" answered Tristram, \"and pray that you\nwill hold me excused from revealing my name at this time,\" and he turned\nhis horse and rode away.\n\"Go after him, Sir Griflet,\" said the king. \"Tell him that I wish to\nspeak with him apart.\"\nGriflet rode to Tristram and told him the king's wish, and the two\nreturned in company.\n\"Fair sir,\" said the king, \"what is the cause that you withhold your\nname?\"\n\"I have an excellent reason, but beg that you will not press me for it.\"\n\"With which party do you hold?\"\n\"Truly, my lord, that I cannot say. Where my heart draws or my fancy\nbids I will go. To-morrow you shall see which side I take. To-day I know\nnot myself.\"\nLeaving the king, he rode back to where his pavilions were set. When the\nmorning dawned he and his three companions armed themselves all in green\nand rode to the lists. Here young knights had begun to joust, and,\nseeing this, Gareth asked leave of Tristram to break a spear.\n\"Go in and do your best if you care to play with beginners,\" said\nTristram, laughing.\nBut Gareth found himself encountered by a nephew of the king with the\nhundred knights, who had some of his uncle's tough fibre, and both got\nugly falls, and lay on the ground till they were helped up by their\nfriends. Then Tristram and Palamides rode with Gareth back to the\npavilions, where they removed their helmets. When Isolde saw Gareth all\nbruised in the face, she asked him what ailed him.\n\"Madam, I had a hard buffet, and gave another, but none of my fellows\nwould rescue me.\"\n\"Only unproved knights are yet in the field,\" said Palamides. \"The man\nthat met you, though, was a strong and well-trained knight, Sir Selises\nby name, so you have no dishonor. Rest here and get yourself in\ncondition for to-morrow's work.\"\n\"I shall not fail you if I can bestride my horse,\" said Gareth.\n\"What party is it best for us to join to-morrow?\" asked Tristram.\n\"Against King Arthur, is my advice,\" said Palamides. \"Lancelot and many\nother good men will be on his side, and the more men of prowess we meet\nthe more honor we will win.\"\n\"Well and knightly spoken,\" said Tristram. \"Hard blows is what we court.\nYour counsel is well given.\"\n\"So think we all,\" said the others.\nOn the morrow, when day had broken, they arrayed themselves in green\ntrappings, with shields and spears of green, while Isolde and her three\ndamsels wore dresses of the same color. For the ladies Tristram found\nseats in a bay window of a priory which overlooked the field, and from\nwhich they could see all that took place. This done, they rode straight\nto the party of the king of Scots.\nWhen Arthur saw this he asked Lancelot who were these knights and the\nqueenly lady who came with them.\n\"That I cannot say for certain. Yet if Tristram and Palamides be in this\ncountry then it is they and La Belle Isolde.\"\nThen Arthur turned to Kay and said,--\n\"Go to the hall and see how many Knights of the Round Table are missing,\nand bring me word.\"\nKay did so, and found by the roll of knights that ten were\nwanting,--Tristram, Dinadan, and eight others.\n\"Then I dare say,\" remarked Arthur, \"that some of these are here to-day\nagainst us.\"\nThe tournament began with a combat in which two knights, cousins to\nGawaine, named Sir Edward and Sir Sadok, rode against the king of Scots\nand the king of North Wales and overthrew them both. This Palamides saw,\nand in return he spurred upon these victorious knights and hurled both\nof them from their saddles.\n\"What knight is that in green?\" asked Arthur. \"He is a mighty jouster.\"\n\"You will see him do better yet,\" said Gawaine. \"It was he that unhorsed\nme and seven others two days ago.\"\nAs they stood talking Tristram rode into the lists on a black horse, and\nwithin a few minutes he smote down four knights of Orkney, while Gareth\nand Dinadan each unhorsed a good knight.\n\"Yonder is another fellow of marvellous arm,\" said Arthur; \"that green\nknight on the black horse.\"\n\"He has not begun his work yet,\" said Gawaine. \"It is plain that he is\nno common man.\"\nAnd so it proved, for Sir Tristram pushed fiercely into the press,\nrescued the two kings who had been unhorsed, and did such mighty work\namong the opposing party that all who saw him marvelled to behold one\nman do so many valiant deeds. Nor was the career of Palamides less\nmarvellous to the spectators.\nKing Arthur, who watched them both with admiring eyes, likened Tristram\nto a furious lion, and Palamides to a maddened leopard, and Gareth and\nDinadan, who seconded them strongly, to eager wolves. So fiercely did\nTristram rage, indeed, among the knights of Orkney that at length they\nwithdrew from the field, as no longer able to face him.\nThen loud went up the cry of the heralds and the common people,--\n\"The green knight has beaten all Orkney!\" And the heralds took account\nthat not less than fifty knights had been smitten down by the four\nchampions in green.\n\"This will not do,\" said Arthur. \"Our party will be overmatched if these\nfellows rage on at such a rate. Come, Lancelot, you and Hector and\nBleoberis must try your hands, and I will make a fourth.\"\n\"Let it be so,\" answered Lancelot. \"Let me take him on the black horse,\nand Bleoberis him on the white. Hector shall match him on the gray\nhorse\" (Sir Gareth).\n\"And I,\" said Arthur, \"will face the knight on the grizzled steed\" (Sir\nDinadan).\nWith this conversation they armed and rode to the lists. Here Lancelot\nrode against Tristram and smote him so hard a blow that horse and man\nwent to the earth, while his three companions met with the same ill\nfortune from their new antagonists.\nThis disaster raised a cry throughout the lists: \"The green knights are\ndown! Rescue the green knights! Let them not be held prisoners!\" For the\nunderstanding was that any unhorsed knight not rescued by his own\nstrength or by his fellows should be held as prisoner.\nThen the king of North Wales rode straight to Tristram, and sprang from\nhis horse, crying,--\n\"Noble knight, I know not of what country you are, but beg you to take\nmy horse, for you have proved yourself worthier to bestride it than I\nam.\"\n\"Many thanks,\" said Tristram. \"I shall try and do you as welcome a turn.\nKeep near us, and I may soon win you another horse.\"\nThen he sprang to the saddle, and meeting with King Arthur struck him so\nfierce a sword-blow on the helm that he had no power to keep his saddle.\n\"Here is the horse promised you,\" cried Tristram to the king of North\nWales, who was quickly remounted on King Arthur's horse.\nThen came a hot contest around the king, one party seeking to mount him\nagain and the other to hold him prisoner. Palamides thrust himself, on\nfoot, into the press, striking such mighty blows to the right and left\nthat the whole throng were borne back before him. At the same time\nTristram rode into the thickest of the throng of knights and cut a way\nthrough them, hurling many of them to the earth.\nThis done, he left the lists and rode to his pavilion, where he changed\nhis horse and armor; he who had gone forth as a green knight coming back\nto the fray as a red one.\nWhen Queen Isolde saw that Tristram was unhorsed, and lost sight of him\nin the press, she wept greatly, fearing that some harm had come to him.\nBut when he rode back she knew him in an instant, despite his red\ndisguise, and her heart swelled anew with joy as she saw him with one\nspear smite down five knights. Lancelot, too, now knew him, and withdrew\nfrom the lists lest he should encounter him again.\nAll this time Tristram's three friends had not been able to regain their\nsaddles, but now he drove back the press and helped them again to horse,\nand, though they knew him not in his new array, they aided him with all\ntheir knightly prowess.\nWhen Isolde, at her window, saw what havoc her chosen knight was making,\nshe leaned eagerly forth and laughed and smiled in delight. This\nPalamides saw, and the vision of her lovely and smiling countenance\nfilled his soul so deeply with love's rejoicing that there seemed to\nflow into him the strength and spirit of ten men, and, with a shout of\nknightly challenge, he pressed forward, smiting down with spear and\nsword every man he encountered. For his heart was so enamoured by the\nvision of that charming face that Tristram or Lancelot would then have\nhad much ado to stand before him.\n\"Truly Palamides is a noble warrior,\" said Tristram, when he beheld\nthis. \"I never saw him do such deeds as he has done this day, nor heard\nof his showing such prowess.\"\n\"It is his day,\" said Dinadan, simply. But to himself he said, \"If you\nknew for whose love he does these valorous deeds, you would soon be in\nthe field against him.\"\n\"It is a crying pity that so brave a knight should be a pagan,\" said\nTristram.\n\"It is my fancy,\" said Dinadan to himself, \"that you may thank Queen\nIsolde for what you have seen; if she had not been here to-day that\nshouting throng would not be giving Palamides the palm of the tourney.\"\nAt this juncture Lancelot came again into the field, and hearing the\noutcry in favor of Palamides he set his spear in rest and spurred upon\nhim. Palamides, seeing this, and having no spear, coolly awaited\nLancelot, and as he came up smote his spear in two with a sword-stroke.\nThen he rushed upon him and struck his horse so hard a blow in the neck\nthat the animal fell, bearing his rider to the ground.\nLoud and fierce was the outcry then: \"Palamides the Saracen has smitten\nSir Lancelot's horse! It is an unknightly deed!\"\nAnd Hector de Maris, seeing his brother Lancelot thus unfairly\ndismounted, rushed upon Palamides in a rage, and bore him from his horse\nwith a mighty spear-thrust.\n\"Take heed to yourself, sirrah,\" cried Lancelot, springing towards him\nsword in hand. \"You have done me a sorry deed, and by my knightly honor\nI will repay you for it.\"\n\"I humbly beg your pardon, noble sir,\" answered Palamides. \"I have done\nso much this day that I have no power or strength left to withstand you.\nForgive me my hasty and uncourteous deed, and I promise to be your\nknight while I live.\"\n\"You have done marvellously well indeed,\" said Lancelot. \"I understand\nwell what power moves you. Love is a mighty mistress, and if she I love\nwere here to-day you should not bear away the honor of the field, though\nyou have nobly won it. Beware that Tristram discovers not your love, or\nyou may repent it. But I have no quarrel with you, and will not seek to\ntake from you the honor of the day.\"\nSo Lancelot suffered Palamides to depart, and mounted his own horse\nagain, despite twenty knights who sought to hinder him. Lancelot,\nTristram, and Palamides did many more noble deeds before that day's end,\nand so great became the medley at length that the field seemed a dense\nmass of rearing and plunging horses and struggling knights.\nAt length Arthur bade the heralds to blow to lodging and the fray ended.\nAnd since Palamides had been in the field from first to last, without\nonce withdrawing, and had done so many, noble and valiant deeds, the\nhonor and the prize for the day were unanimously voted him, a judgment\nwhich Arthur and the kings of his counsel unanimously confirmed.\nBut when Palamides came to understand that the red knight who had\nrescued him was Sir Tristram his heart was glad, for all but Dinadan\nfancied he had been taken prisoner. Much was the talk upon the events of\nthe day, and great the wonder of king and knights at the remarkable\nvalor of the Saracen knight.\n\"And yet I well know,\" said Lancelot, \"that there was a better knight\nthere than he. And take my word for it, this will be proved before the\ntournament ends.\"\nThis also thought Dinadan, and he rallied his friend Tristram with\nsatirical tongue.\n\"What the fiend has ailed you to-day?\" he asked. \"Palamides grew in\nstrength from first to last, but you have been like a man asleep, or a\ncoward knight.\"\n\"I was never called coward before,\" said Tristram, hotly. \"The only fall\nI got was from Lancelot, and him I hold as my better, and for that\nmatter the better of any man alive.\"\nBut Dinadan kept up his railing accusations till the growing anger of\nTristram warned him to desist. Yet this was all from friendship, not\nfrom spite, for he wished to stir up his friend to do his best in the\nlists the coming day, and not permit the Saracen again to carry off the\nprize.\nCHAPTER VI.\nTHE SECOND DAY OF THE TOURNAMENT.\nWhen the next morning dawned, Tristram, Palamides, and Gareth, with La\nBelle Isolde and her ladies, all arrayed as before in green, took horse\nat an early hour, and rode into the fresh forest. But Dinadan was left\nstill asleep in bed. As they passed the castle at a little distance, it\nchanced that King Arthur and Lancelot saw them from an upper window.\n\"Yonder rideth the fairest lady of the world,\" said Lancelot, \"always\nexcepting your queen, Guenever.\"\n\"Who is it?\" asked Arthur.\n\"It is La Belle Isolde, Cornwall's queen and Tristram's lady-love.\"\n\"By my troth, I should like to see her closer,\" said the king. \"Let us\narm and mount, and ride after them.\"\nThis they did, and in a short time were on the track of the gay\ncavalcade they had seen.\n\"Let us not be too hasty,\" warned Lancelot. \"There are some knights who\nresent being intruded on abruptly; particularly if in the company of\nladies.\"\n\"As for that, we must take our chances,\" said Arthur. \"If they feel\naggrieved I cannot help it, for I am bent on seeing Queen Isolde.\"\nSeeing Tristram and his companions just in advance, Arthur rode briskly\nup and saluted Isolde courteously, saying, \"God save you, fair lady.\"\n\"Thanks for your courtesy, sir knight,\" she replied.\nThen Arthur looked upon her charming countenance, freshened by the\nmorning air, and thought in his mind that Lancelot had spoken but the\ntruth, and that no more beautiful lady lived. But at this moment\nPalamides rode up.\n\"Sir knight, what seek you here?\" he asked. \"It is uncourteous to come\non a lady so suddenly. Your intrusion is not to our liking, and I bid\nyou to withdraw.\"\nArthur paid no heed to these words, but continued to gaze upon Isolde,\nas one stricken with admiration. Seeing this, Palamides flamed into\nanger, and spurred fiercely upon the king, with spear in rest, smiting\nhim from his horse.\n\"Here is an awkward business,\" said Lancelot to himself. \"If I ride down\nPalamides I shall have Tristram on me; and the pair of them would be too\nmuch for me. This comes from too head-strong a will. But whether I live\nor die I must stand by my lord and king.\" Then riding forward, he called\nto Palamides, \"Keep thee from me!\"\nFierce was the onset with which they met, but it ended in Lancelot's\nfavor, for Palamides was flung from his saddle and had a hard fall.\nWhen Tristram saw this he called to Lancelot, \"Be on your guard, sir\nknight. You have unhorsed my comrade, and must joust with me.\"\n\"I have no dread of that,\" said Lancelot; \"and yet I did but avenge my\nlord, who was unhorsed unwarily and unknightly. You have no cause for\ndispleasure; for no honorable knight could stand by and see his friend\nill-treated.\"\nTristram now felt sure that it was Lancelot who spoke, and that it was\nKing Arthur whom Palamides had unhorsed. He therefore laid aside his\nspear and helped Palamides again to his saddle, while Lancelot did the\nsame for the king.\n\"That deed of thine was not knightly nor courteous,\" said Tristram,\nsternly to Palamides, after the others had departed. \"I cannot see any\nharm in a knight accosting a lady gently and courteously; nor am I\npleased to have you play such masteries before my lady. If I deem her\ninsulted, I am quite able myself to protect her. And if I am not\nmistaken, it was King Arthur you assailed so rudely, and the other was\nLancelot du Lake. You may yet have to pay for your violence.\"\n\"I cannot think,\" said Palamides, \"that the great Arthur would ride thus\nsecretly arrayed as a poor knight-errant.\"\n\"Then you know him not,\" said Tristram. \"No knight living is fonder of\nadventure. King Arthur is always ready to take his part as an errant\nknight, nor does he bear malice against those who may overthrow him when\nin disguise. I tell you, Palamides, that our king is the true model of\nknightly honor, and that the best of us might learn from him.\"\n\"If it were he I am sorry,\" said Palamides. \"I may have been over-hasty.\nBut a thing that is done cannot be undone, and I must abide the\nconsequences.\"\nThen Tristram sent Isolde to her lodging in the priory, from which she\nmight behold the tournament, and made ready to enter the lists.\nFierce was the shock of the first encounter of the knights, and the\nthree champions in green began the day with many deeds of might.\n\"How feel you?\" asked Tristram of Palamides. \"Are you able to repeat\nyesterday's work?\"\n\"Hardly,\" was the reply. \"I am weary and sore yet from my hard labors.\"\n\"I am sorry for that, as I shall miss your aid.\"\n\"Trust not to me,\" answered Palamides. \"I have not much work left in\nme.\"\n\"Then I must depend on you,\" said Tristram to Gareth. \"We two should be\nable to make our mark. Keep near me and rescue me if I get in trouble,\nand I will do the same for you.\"\n\"I shall not fail you,\" was the reply.\nLeaving them, Palamides rode off by himself, and, pushing into the\nthickest press of the men of Orkney, did such deeds of arms that\nTristram looked on in amazement.\n\"Is that his soreness and weariness?\" he asked. \"I fancy he is weary of\nmy company, and wishes to win all the honor to his own hand.\"\n\"That is what Dinadan meant yesterday when he called you coward,\" said\nGareth. \"He but wished to stir you to anger so that Palamides should not\nrob you of credit.\"\n\"By my faith, if Palamides bears me ill will and envy I shall show him\nwhat a knight of Cornwall can do. He has gained the acclamations of the\ncrowd already. He has left our company and we owe him no courtesy. You\nshall see me rob him of his honors.\"\nThen Tristram rode into the thickest of the press, and laid about him\nwith such might that all eyes were turned upon him, and men began to\nsay, \"There is a greater than Palamides come into the field.\"\n\"Is it not as I told you?\" said Lancelot to Arthur. \"I said you would\nthis day see the Saracen distanced.\"\n\"It is true enough,\" answered Arthur. \"Palamides has not such strength\nof arm.\"\n\"It is Tristram himself you look upon.\"\n\"That I can well believe,\" said Arthur. \"Such knights as he do not grow\nlike mushrooms in every field.\"\nThe noise from the other part of the lists now drew the attention of\nPalamides, and when he saw what puissant deeds his late comrade was\ndoing he wept for spite, for he saw that the honor of that day was not\nfor him.\nSeeing to what straits their party was put, Arthur and Lancelot and many\nother knights now armed and rode into the field, and by their aid so\nchanged the tide of victory that the other side was driven quite back,\nuntil Tristram and Gareth stood alone, bravely abiding all who came upon\nthem. But Lancelot and his kinsmen kept purposely away from them.\n\"See,\" said Lancelot to Arthur, \"how Palamides hovers yonder like one in\na dream, sick, I fancy, from envy of Tristram.\"\n\"Then he is but a fool,\" said the king. \"He is not and never was the\nmatch of Tristram. I am glad to see the fellow repaid for the way he\nserved me this morning.\"\nAs they stood thus conversing, Tristram withdrew quietly from the lists,\nhis going noted only by Isolde and Palamides, who kept their eyes upon\nhim. He rode back to his pavilions, where he found Dinadan still asleep,\nhis slumbers not broken by all the uproar of the tournament.\n\"As I am a living man, here is a lusty sleeper,\" cried Tristram. \"Wake,\nDinadan. The day is half spent and the field half won, and here you are\nstill a-bed.\"\nAt this Dinadan sprang hastily up and rubbed his eyes.\n\"I dreamt of wars and jousts,\" he said. \"And, i' faith, I like that way\nthe best, for one gets all the good of the fight and is safe from sore\nlimbs and aching bones. But what's to do?\"\n\"Get on your harness and ride with me to the field. You will find\nsomething there to waken you up.\"\nDinadan, as he armed, noted Tristram's battered shield, and remarked,--\n\"I slept both well and wisely, it seems. If I had been there I must have\nfollowed you, from shame if not from courage. And by the looks of your\nshield I would have been worse battered than I was yesterday. Why did\nyou not let me sleep out the balance of it, friend Tristram?\"\n\"A truce with your jests. Come, we must to the field again.\"\n\"How now, is there a new deal in the game? Yesterday you did but dream;\nto-day you seem awake.\"\nMeanwhile Tristram had changed his armor, and now was attired all in\nblack.\n\"You have more fight in you than you had yesterday, that is sure,\" said\nDinadan. \"Did I stir up your sleeping spirit?\"\n\"It may be so,\" said Tristram, smiling. \"Keep well up to me, and I shall\nmake you a highway through the press. If you see me overmatched, do what\nyou can to aid me.\"\nWhen ready they took their horses and rode back to the lists, where\nIsolde and Palamides noted their entrance. When the Saracen saw that\nTristram was disguised, a new fancy came into his scheming brain.\nLeaving the lists, he rode to where a knight sat sorely wounded under a\ntree outside. Him he prayed for an exchange of armor, saying that his\nown was too well known in the field, and that he wished for a disguise.\n\"That is very true,\" said the knight, as he recognized the green armor.\n\"You have made your array somewhat too well known. You are welcome to my\narms, if they will be of use to you. They will gain more credit in your\nhands than they have won in mine.\"\nPalamides thereupon exchanged armor with him, and, taking his shield,\nwhich shone like silver, rode into the field. He now joined the party of\nKing Arthur, and rode spitefully against Tristram, who had just struck\ndown three knights. They met with such force that both spears splintered\nto their hands, though neither lost his seat. Then they dashed eagerly\ntogether with drawn swords and fought with the courage and fury of two\nlions. But Tristram wondered much what knight this was that faced him\nso valiantly, and grew angry as he felt that he was wasting in this\nsingle combat the strength he wished to treasure up for the day's work.\nLa Belle Isolde, who had watched Palamides from her window, had seen him\nchange his armor with the wounded knight. And when his treacherous\npurpose came to her mind she wept so heartily and was so deeply\ndisturbed that she swooned away.\nAt this juncture in the fray Lancelot rode again into the field, and\nwhen the knights of Arthur's party saw him the cry went up. \"Return,\nreturn, here comes Sir Lancelot du Lake!\"\nAnd some said to him, \"Sir Lancelot, yonder knight in the black harness\nis your man. He is the best of our opponents, and has nearly overcome\nthe good knight with the silver shield.\"\nAt this Lancelot rode between the combatants, and cried to Palamides,--\n\"Let me have this battle; you need repose.\"\nPalamides knew Lancelot, and readily gave way, hoping through his mighty\naid to gain revenge upon his rival. Then Lancelot fell upon Tristram,\nand, unknowing who he was, dealt him blows that would have stunned a\nless hardy fighter. Tristram returned them but feebly, for he knew well\nwith whom he fought. And Isolde, who saw it all, was half out of her\nmind with grief.\nDinadan now told Gareth who the knight in black armor was, and said,\n\"Lancelot will get the better of him, for one is weary and the other\nfresh, and Tristram is not fighting with his old vim. Let us to his\naid.\"\n\"I am with you,\" said Gareth. \"Yonder fellow with the silver shield is\nwaiting to fall on Tristram, if he can to advantage. It is our business\nto give our friend what help we can.\"\nThen they rode in, and Gareth struck Lancelot a sword-blow that made his\nhead swim, while Dinadan followed with a spear-thrust that bore horse\nand man together to the earth.\n\"Why do you this?\" cried Tristram, angrily. \"It is not a knightly act,\nand does not that good knight any dishonor. I was quite his match\nwithout you.\"\nThen Palamides came to Lancelot's aid, and a close medley of fighting\nbegan, in which Dinadan was unhorsed and Tristram pulled Palamides from\nhis saddle, and fell with him. Dinadan now sprang up and caught\nTristram's horse by the bridle, calling out, with purpose to end the\nfight,--\n\"My lord Sir Tristram, take your horse.\"\n\"What is this?\" cried Lancelot. \"What have I done? Sir Tristram, why\ncame you here disguised? Surely I would not have drawn sword on you, had\nI known you.\"\n\"Sir,\" said Tristram, \"this is not the first honor you have done me.\"\nThen they mounted their horses again, while the people on one side gave\nLancelot the honor of the fray, and those on the other side gave it to\nTristram.\n\"The honor is not mine,\" said Lancelot. \"He has been longer in the\nfield, and has smitten down many more knights; so I give my voice for\nSir Tristram, and pray to all my lords and fellows to do the same.\"\nThis was the verdict of the judges, and the prize of that day's tourney\nwas by all voted to the noble Sir Tristram.\nThen the trumpets blew to lodging, and the knights left the field, while\nQueen Isolde was conducted to her pavilion. But her heart burned hot\nwith wrath against Palamides, all whose treachery she had seen. As\nTristram rode forward with Gareth and Dinadan, Palamides joined them,\nstill disguised.\n\"Sir knight,\" said Tristram, \"you are not of our party, and your company\nis not welcome. So begone.\"\n\"Not I,\" he answered. \"One of the best knights in the world bade me keep\nfellowship with you, and till he relieve me from that service I must\nobey him.\"\n\"Ha, Palamides, I know you now!\" said Tristram. \"But, by my faith, I did\nnot know you before, for I deemed you a worthy knight and not a traitor.\nI could have handled you well enough, but you brought Lancelot to your\naid against me.\"\n\"Are you my lord, Sir Tristram?\" said Palamides, in a tone of surprise.\n\"That you know, well enough.\"\n\"How should I know it any more than you knew me? I deemed you the king\nof Ireland, for you bear his arms.\"\n\"I won them in battle, from his champion Sir Marhaus,\" said Tristram.\n\"Sir,\" answered Palamides, \"I fancied you had joined Lancelot's party,\nand that caused me to turn to the same side.\"\n\"If that be so, I forgive you,\" said Tristram.\nBut when they reached the pavilion and had disarmed and washed, and were\ncome to table, Isolde grew red with wrath on seeing Palamides.\n\"You traitor and felon!\" she cried, \"how dare you thrust yourself into\nthis goodly company? You know not how falsely he has treated you, my\nlord Tristram. I saw it all. He watched you when you rode to your tent\nand donned the black armor. Then he changed armor with a wounded knight\nand rode back and wilfully changed sides, and drew sword upon you. I saw\nit all, my lord, and I impeach him of treason.\"\n\"Madam,\" said Palamides, calmly, \"you may say what you will. I cannot in\ncourtesy deny you. Yet by my knighthood I declare I knew not Sir\nTristram.\"\n\"I will take your excuse,\" said Tristram, \"though it seems a lame one.\nYou spared me little in the field, but all that I have pardoned.\"\nAt this, Isolde held down her head in despite and said no more.\nWhile they were still at table two knights rode to the pavilions, and\nentered in full armor.\n\"Fair sirs,\" said Tristram, \"is this courtesy, to come upon us thus\narmed at our meal?\"\n\"We come with no ill intent,\" said one, \"but as your friends, Sir\nTristram.\"\n\"I am come,\" said the other, \"to greet you as a friend and comrade, and\nmy companion is eager to see and welcome La Belle Isolde.\"\n\"Then remove your helms, that I may see what guests I have.\"\n\"That we do, willingly.\"\nNo sooner were their helmets off than Tristram sprang hastily to his\nfeet.\n\"Madam, arise,\" he cried; \"this is none less than my lord King Arthur;\nand this my very dear friend Sir Lancelot.\"\nThen the king and queen kissed, and Lancelot and Tristram warmly\nembraced, while deep joy filled all hearts there. At the request of\nIsolde the visitors removed their armor and joined them at their meal.\n\"Many is the day that I have longed to see you,\" said Arthur to Isolde,\n\"for much praise have I heard of you, and not without warrant. For a\nnobler match for beauty and valor than you and Sir Tristram the world\ndoes not hold.\"\n\"We thank you heartily,\" replied Tristram and Isolde. \"Such praise from\nKing Arthur is the highest honor that men's lips could give.\"\nThen they talked of other things, but mainly of the tournament.\n\"Why were you against us?\" asked Arthur. \"You are a Knight of the Round\nTable, and have fought to-day against your own.\"\n\"Here is Dinadan, and your own nephew Gareth. You must blame them for\nthat,\" said Tristram, smiling.\n\"You may lay all the blame on my shoulders, if Tristram wishes it,\" said\nGareth.\n\"Not on mine, then,\" said Dinadan. \"Mine are only broad enough to carry\nmy own sins. It was this unhappy Tristram brought us to the tournament,\nand I owe to him a whole body full of aches and pains as it is, without\ntaking any of his sins in my sack, to boot.\"\nAt this the king and Lancelot laughed heartily, and the more so at the\nsour grimace with which Dinadan ended.\n\"What knight was he with the shield of silver that held you so short?\"\nasked Arthur.\n\"Here he sits,\" said Tristram.\n\"What! was it Palamides?\"\n\"None less than he,\" said Isolde.\n\"That was not a courteous action.\"\n\"Sir,\" said Palamides, \"Tristram was so disguised that I knew him not.\"\n\"That may well be,\" said Lancelot, \"for I knew him no better.\"\n\"However it be, we are friends again,\" said Tristram, \"and I hope will\ncontinue so.\"\nAnd so the evening passed, till the time came for Arthur and Lancelot to\ntake their leave.\nThat night Palamides slept not for the pain and envy that burned in his\nheart. But when his friends entered his chamber in the morning they\nfound him fast asleep, with his cheeks stained with tears.\n\"Say nothing,\" said Tristram. \"The poor fellow has been deeply wounded\nby the rebuke that I and Isolde gave him. Lay no heavier load upon his\nheart.\"\nCHAPTER VII.\nTHE WOES OF TWO LOVERS.\nEarly on the third morning of the tournament the knights of Tristram's\nparty were up and armed, they now being all arrayed in red, as was also\nIsolde and her maidens. And rare was the show they made as they rode\ngayly to the priory, where they left Isolde and her maidens to occupy\ntheir proper seats. As the knights turned thence towards the field they\nheard three loud bugle-blasts, and saw the throng of armed knights press\neagerly forward, while already from the listed space came the thunder of\nhoofs and the cries of combatants.\nInto the field they rode, Palamides in advance, and such havoc did he\nmake in the opposing ranks that shouts of approval went up from all the\nseats. But Tristram now rode forward at the full speed of his great\nwar-horse, hurled Kay the seneschal from his saddle, smote down three\nother knights with the same spear, and then, drawing his sword, laid\nabout him like a roused giant.\nQuickly changed the cry from Palamides. \"O Tristram! O Tristram!\"\nshouted the throng of spectators, and the deeds of this new champion\nthrew those of the former victor into the shade.\nGareth and Dinadan also nobly aided the two champions, rousing the\nadmiration of Arthur and Lancelot by their gallantry, and the four\nknightly comrades soon cleared a wide space in the ranks before them.\n\"Come,\" said Arthur, \"we must to the rescue, or our side will be driven\nfrom the field before the day is an hour old. See how the others crowd\nin on Tristram's steps, like wolves to the prey.\"\nThen he and Lancelot hastily armed and sought the field, where they\nquickly fought their way into the thickest press of the tumult.\nTristram, not knowing them, rode upon them and thrust King Arthur from\nhis horse, and when Lancelot rushed to his rescue he was surrounded with\nsuch an eager host that he was pulled from his saddle to the ground.\nSeeing this, the kings of Ireland and Scotland, with their knights,\nrushed forward to take Lancelot and Arthur prisoners. But they counted\nwithout their host, for the dismounted knights laid about them like\nangry lions, driving back all who came near them. Of all that passed in\nthat hot turmoil it were too much to say. Many a knight there did deeds\nof great prowess, and Arthur and Lancelot being mounted again, strewed\nthe earth with fallen knights, Lancelot that day unhorsing thirty\nwarriors. Yet the other side held so firmly together that, with all\ntheir ardent labor, Arthur and his party were overmatched.\nAt this juncture, Tristram turned to his companions and said,--\n\"My good comrades, I begin to fancy that we are to-day on the wrong\nside. King Arthur's party is overborne more by numbers than valor, for I\nmust say I never saw so few men do so well. It would be a shame for us,\nwho are Knights of the Round Table, to see our lord Arthur and our good\ncomrade Lancelot dishonored. I am in the humor to change sides, and help\nour king and liege lord.\"\n\"We are with you in that,\" cried Gareth and Dinadan. \"We have been\nfighting against the grain these three days.\"\n\"Do as you will,\" said Palamides. \"I shall not change my hand in the\nmidst of the fray.\"\n\"As you will,\" said Tristram. \"You are your own master. Speed well in\nyour way, and we will do our best in ours.\"\nThen he, Gareth, and Dinadan drew out of the press and rode round to\nArthur's side, where they lent such noble aid that the fortune of the\nfield quickly changed, and the opposing party began to give ground. As\nfor Palamides, King Arthur struck him so fierce a blow that he was\nhurled from his horse, while Tristram and Lancelot unhorsed all before\nthem. Such havoc did they make, indeed, that the party of the opposing\nkings was soon in full flight from the field, bearing Palamides, who\nwept for rage and grief, with them.\nThen rarely sounded the trumpets, and loudly shouted the spectators,\nwhile the names of Tristram and Lancelot were in every mouth, some\nvoting one the prize, some the other. But neither of these good comrades\nwould have it alone, so that in the end it was divided between them.\nWhen evening drew near, and the knights had all withdrawn to their\npavilions, Palamides rode up to that of Sir Tristram, in company with\nthe kings of Wales and Scotland. Here he drew up his horse, praying his\ncompanions to wait a while while he spoke to the knight within. Then he\ncried loudly at the entrance,--\n\"Where are you, Tristram of Lyonesse?\"\n\"Is that you, Palamides?\" answered the knight. \"Will you not dismount\nand join us?\"\n\"I seek better company, sir traitor,\" cried Palamides, in tones that\ntrembled with fury. \"I hate you now as much as I once esteemed you, and\nbear this in mind, if it were daylight as it is night, I would slay you\nwith my own hands. You shall die yet for this day's deeds.\"\n\"You blame me wrongly, Palamides,\" said Tristram, mildly. \"If you had\ndone as I advised you would have won honor instead of disgrace. Why come\nyou here seeking to lay your own fault on me? Since you give me such\nbroad warning, I shall be well on my guard against you.\"\n\"Well you may, sir dastard, for I love you not,\" and, fiercely spurring\nhis horse, the hot-blooded Saracen joined his kingly companions.\nWhen the next day dawned the festive array which had long spread bustle\nand splendor round Lonazep broke up, and knights and ladies rode off in\nall directions through the land, to carry far and wide the story of the\nwondrous deeds of valor that had been performed at the great tournament.\nTristram and his two comrades, with Hector de Maris and Bleoberis,\nescorted La Belle Isolde to Joyous Gard, where for seven days the guests\nwere nobly entertained, with all the sports and mirthfulness that could\nbe devised. King Arthur and his knights drew back to Camelot, and\nPalamides rode onward with the two kings, his heart torn with mingled\nsorrow and despair. Not alone was he in grief for his disgrace in the\nfield, under the eyes of her he loved, but was full as sorrowful for the\nhot words he had spoken in his wrath to Tristram, who had been so kind\nand gentle to him that his heart was torn to think how falsely and\ntreacherously he had requited him.\nHis kingly companions would have had him stay with them, but he could\nnot be persuaded, so the king of Ireland presented him with a noble\ncourser, and the king of Scotland with valuable gifts, and he rode his\nway, still plunged in a grief that was almost despair. Noon brought him\nto a forest fountain, beside which lay a wounded knight, who sighed so\nmournfully that the very leaves on the trees seemed to sigh in echo.\n\"Why mourn you so, fair knight?\" asked Palamides, mildly. \"Or if you\ncare not to tell, at least let me lie beside you and join my moans to\nyours, for I dare say I have a hundredfold deeper cause for grief, and\nwe may ease our hearts by mutual complaints.\"\n\"What is your name, gentle sir?\"\n\"Such as I am, for better or worse, men call me Palamides, son to King\nAstlabor.\"\n\"Noble sir, it solaces me much to meet you. I am Epinegris, son to the\nking of Northumberland. Now repose you on this mossy bank and let us\ntell our woes, and so ease somewhat our sad hearts.\"\nThen Palamides dismounted and laid himself beside the wounded knight.\n\"This is my source of woe,\" he said. \"I love the fairest queen that ever\ndrew breath, La Belle Isolde, Cornwall's queen.\"\n\"That is sheer folly,\" said Epinegris, \"for she loves none but Tristram\nde Lyonesse.\"\n\"Know I it not? I have been in their company this month, daily reaping\nsorrow. And now I have lost the fellowship of Tristram and the love of\nIsolde forever, through my envy and jealousy, and never more shall a\nglad thought enter my sorrowful heart.\"\n\"Did she ever show you signs of love?\"\n\"Never. She hated me, I fear. And the last day we met she gave me such a\nrebuke that I will never recover from it:--yet well I deserved it by my\nunknightly acts. Many great deeds have I done for her love, yet never\nshall I win a smile from her eyes.\"\n\"Deep is your grief, indeed,\" said Epinegris, with a heart-breaking\nsigh, \"yet it is but a jest to my sorrow. For my lady loved me, and I\nwon her with my hands. But, alas! this day I have lost her and am left\nhere to moan. I took her from an earl and two knights that were with\nher; but as we sat here this day, telling each other of our loves, there\ncame an errant knight, named Helior de Preuse, and challenged me to\nfight for my lady. You see what followed. He wounded me so that he left\nme for dead and took my lady with him. So my sorrow is deepest, for I\nhave rejoiced in my love, and you never have. To have and lose is far\nworse than never to own.\"\n\"That is true,\" said Palamides. \"But yet I have the deepest cause for\ngrief, for your love is not hopeless, like mine. And I shall prove this,\nfor if I can find this Helior he shall be made to yield you your lady,\nunless he prove able to deal with me as he has with you.\"\nThen he helped Epinegris on his horse and led him to a hermitage near\nby, where he left him under the care of the holy hermit. Here Palamides\nstayed not long, but walked out under the shadow of the green leaves, to\nbe a while alone with his woes. But not far had he gone before he saw\nnear him a knight, who bore a shield that he had seen Hector de Maris\nwear. With him were ten other knights, who sheltered themselves from the\nnoontide heat under the green leaves.\nAs they stood there another knight came by whose shield was green, with\na white lion in its midst, and who led a lady on a palfrey. As he came\nup, the knight who bore Sir Hector's shield rode fiercely after him, and\nbade him turn and defend his lady.\n\"That I must, in knightly duty,\" cried the other.\nThen the two knights rode together with such might that horses and men\ntogether were hurled to the earth. Drawing their swords, they now fought\nsturdily for the space of an hour. In the end the knight of the white\nlion was stricken to the earth and forced to beg for his life.\nPalamides stood under the leaves, watching this combat till it came to\nits end. Then he went to the lady, whom he believed to be her whom he\nhad promised to rescue. Taking her gently by the hand, he asked her if\nshe knew a knight named Epinegris.\n\"Alas! that ever I did,\" she sadly replied. \"For his sake I have lost my\nliberty, and for mine he has lost his life.\"\n\"Not so badly as that,\" said Palamides. \"He is at yonder hermitage. I\nwill take you to him.\"\n\"Then he lives!\" she cried in joy. \"You fill my heart with gladness.\"\nBut not many steps had Palamides led her before the victorious knight\ncried out in tones of fierce anger,--\n\"Loose the lady, sirrah! Whither take you her?\"\n\"Whither I will?\" answered Palamides.\n\"You speak largely, sir knave,\" cried the knight. \"Do you fancy you can\nrob me of my prize so lightly? Think it not, sirrah; were you as good a\nknight as Lancelot or Tristram or Palamides, you should not have that\nlady without winning her at a dearer rate than I did.\"\n\"If fight it is, I am ready for you,\" answered Palamides. \"I promised to\nbring this lady to her lover from whom yonder knight stole her, and it\nwill need more swords than one to make me break my word.\"\n\"We shall see if that be so,\" said the other, attacking him so fiercely\nthat Palamides had much ado to protect himself. They fought for so long\na time that Palamides marvelled much who this knight could be that\nwithstood him so sturdily after his late hard battle.\n\"Knight,\" he said, at length, \"you fight like a hero. I would know your\nname.\"\n\"You shall have it for yours in return.\"\n\"I agree to that.\"\n\"Then, sir, my name is Safere. I am son of King Astlobar, and brother to\nPalamides and Segwarides.\"\n\"Then heaven defend me for having fought you, for I am your brother\nPalamides.\"\nAt these words Safere fell upon his knees and begged his brother's\npardon; and then they unlaced their helms and kissed each other with\ntears of joy.\nAs they stood thus, Epinegris advanced towards them, for he had heard\nthe sounds of fighting, and, wounded as he was, he came to help\nPalamides if he should stand in need.\nPalamides, seeing him approach, took the lady by the hand and led her to\nhim, and they embraced so tenderly that all hearts there were touched.\n\"Fair knight and lady,\" said Safere, \"it would be a cruel pity to part\nyou, and I pray heaven to send you joy of each other.\"\n\"You have my sincere thanks,\" said Epinegris. \"And deeper thanks has Sir\nPalamides for what he has done for me this day. My castle is near by;\nwill you not ride there with me as a safeguard?\"\n\"That we gladly will,\" they said, and when Epinegris had got his horse\nthey rode with him and the lady to the castle, where they were nobly\nreceived and treated with the highest honor. They had such good cheer\nand such enjoyment as they had rarely before known. And never burned the\nflame of love more warmly than that between Epinegris and his rescued\nlady.\nCHAPTER VIII.\nTHE RIVALRY OF TRISTRAM AND PALAMIDES.\nWhen morning again dawned over the forest and the smiling fields that\nsurrounded the castle of Epinegris, the two brothers rode out, taking\nwith them the blessings and prayers for good fortune of those they left\nbehind. But had they known into what deadly peril they ventured they\nwould not for days have left those hospitable gates.\nFor they rode on hour by hour, until afternoon came, and then found\nthemselves in front of a noble manor-house from which came to their ears\ndoleful sounds of woe and lamentation.\n\"What means this woful noise? Shall we enter and see?\" said Safere.\n\"Willingly,\" answered Palamides.\nLeaving their horses at the gates, they entered the court-yard, where\nthey saw an old man tremblingly fumbling his beads. But when they came\nwithin the hall they beheld many men weeping and lamenting.\n\"Fair sirs, why make you such a moaning?\" asked Palamides.\n\"We weep for our lord, who is slain,\" they dolefully replied.\nBut one of the knights observed the new-comers closely, and said\nsecretly to his fellows,--\n\"Know you not this man? Fortune has thrown into our hands the knight who\nslew our lord at Lonazep. That tall fellow is Palamides. Let him not go\nas easily as he came.\"\nHearing this, most of them quietly withdrew and armed themselves, and\nthen came suddenly upon their visitors to the number of threescore,\ncrying,--\n\"Defend yourself, if you can, Sir Palamides. We know you for the\nmurderer of our lord, and it is our duty to revenge him. Die you shall,\nthough you had the might of a giant.\"\nPalamides and his brother, finding themselves in this desperate strait,\nset themselves back to back in the midst of their assailants, and fought\nlike very giants, keeping their ground for two hours, though they were\nattacked by twenty knights and forty gentlemen and yeomen. But strength\ncannot hold out forever against odds, and at the end they were forced to\nyield, and were locked up in a strong prison.\nWithin three days thereafter a court of twelve knights sat upon the\ncharge against them, and found Sir Palamides guilty of their lord's\ndeath.\nSir Safere, who was adjudged not guilty, was given his liberty, and\nbidden to depart from the castle. He parted with his brother in the\ndeepest woe.\n\"Dear brother, grieve not so greatly,\" said Palamides. \"If die I must, I\nshall meet death bravely. But had I dreamed of such a doom as this, they\nshould never have taken me alive.\"\n[Illustration: Copyright 1895 by E. A. Abbey; from a Copely print\ncopyright 1896 by Curtis and Cameron.\nTHE DEPARTURE.]\nThen Safere departed in untold sorrow, though not without hope of rescue\nif he could raise a force to storm the castle. This he had no chance to\ndo, for on the next morning Palamides was sent under an escort of twelve\nknights to the father of the dead knight, who dwelt in a strong castle\nby the sea-side, named Pelownes, where it had been decided that the\nsentence should be put into execution.\nPalamides was placed on a sorry old steed with his feet bound beneath\nit, and, surrounded by the guard of twelve armed knights, was taken\ntowards the place of death.\nBut through the favor of fortune their route lay by the castle of Joyous\nGard, and here they were seen by one who knew Palamides, and who asked\nhim whither he was borne.\n\"To my death,\" he answered, \"for the slaying of a knight at the\ntournament. Had I not left Sir Tristram this would not have happened to\nme. I pray you, recommended me to your lord and to my lady Isolde, and\nbeg them to forgive me my trespasses against them. And also to my lord\nKing Arthur, and to all my fellows of the Round Table.\"\nWhen the yeoman heard this he rode in all haste to Joyous Gard, where he\ntold Tristram of what he had seen and heard.\n\"To his death, you say?\" cried Tristram. \"And for an accident of the\ntournament? Why, I and twenty others might be served in the same manner.\nI have reason to be angry with Palamides, but he shall not die the death\nof a dog if I can rescue him.\"\nThis said, he armed in all haste, and taking two squires with him, he\nrode at a fast gallop towards the castle of Pelownes, hoping to overtake\nthe party before they could pass its gates.\nBut fortune had decreed that the prisoner should be otherwise rescued.\nFor as the guard of knights rode on their way they passed by a well\nwhere Lancelot had alighted to drink of the refreshing waters.\nWhen he saw the cavalcade approach he put on his helmet and stood\nwatching them as they passed. But his heart swelled with anger when he\nsaw Palamides disarmed and bound in their midst, and seemingly led to\nhis death.\n\"What means this?\" he cried. \"What has this knight done that deserves a\nshameful death? Whatever it be, I cannot suffer him to be foully dealt\nwith.\"\nThen he mounted and rode after the twelve knights, soon overtaking them.\n\"Sir knights,\" he said, \"whither take you that gentleman? To ride thus\nbound is not befitting for a man of his metal.\"\nAt this the guard of knights turned their horses and faced Lancelot.\n\"We counsel you not to meddle with us,\" they said, sternly. \"This man\nhas deserved death, and to death he is adjudged.\"\n\"I tell you, sirs, it shall not be. He is too good a knight to die a\nshameful death. Defend yourselves, then, for I will try my one hand\nagainst your twelve, and rescue him or die in the effort.\"\nThe knights of the guard now put their spears in rest, and Lancelot rode\nupon them with such fury that the foremost and three of those behind him\nwere hurled to the ground before his spear broke. Then he drew his sword\nand laid about him so shrewdly that in a little time the whole twelve of\nthem were stretched upon the earth, most of them being sorely wounded.\nLancelot now cut the bonds of Palamides, mounted him upon the best of\ntheir horses, and rode back with him towards Joyous Gard.\nAs they went forward they saw Sir Tristram approaching. Lancelot knew\nhim at sight, but was himself unknown, because he bore a golden shield\nwhich neither Tristram nor Palamides recognized. He therefore mystified\nthem for a time, and declined to enter Joyous Gard on the plea that he\nhad other pressing business on hand. But when strongly entreated, he at\nlength consented, and entered the castle with them.\nGreat was their surprise and joy when he had unhelmed, to find that they\nhad their host for guest. Tristram took him in his arms, and so did\nIsolde, while Palamides kneeled before him and thanked him for his life.\nWhen Lancelot saw this he took him by the hand and made him rise.\n\"Good sirs,\" he said, \"could I, or any knight of worship in this land,\nhesitate to rescue from an ignoble death such a knight as Palamides? Had\nthere been fifty instead of twelve, I fear I should have braved them\nall.\"\nMuch joy was there in Joyous Gard at the visit of the lord of the\ncastle, but Lancelot stayed there but four days. Palamides, however,\nremained for two months and more, his love and grief growing deeper,\ntill he faded away to a shadow of himself.\nOne day, at the end of this time, he wandered far into the neighboring\nforest, and here by chance saw the reflection of his face in a clear\npool. The wasted visage disturbed and affrighted him.\n\"What does this mean?\" he asked himself. \"Am I, who was called one of\nthe handsomest knights in the world, wasted to such a frightful figure?\nI must leave this life, for it is idle to grieve myself to death for\nthat which I can never possess.\"\nThen he threw himself beside the well, and from the fulness of his heart\nbegan to make a song about La Belle Isolde and himself, a rhyme made up\nof music, love, and grief.\nAs chance would have it, Tristram had ridden into the forest that day in\nchase of the hart. And as he rode up and down under the green leaves the\nsummer air brought to his ears the sound of a voice singing loud and\nclear. He rode softly towards the sound, for he deemed that some\nknight-errant lay there solacing himself with song.\nWhen he came nigh he tied his horse to a tree and advanced on foot. Then\nhe became aware that the singer was his guest Palamides, and that his\nsong was about La Belle Isolde, a doleful and piteous, yet marvellously\nwell-made song, which the singer sang loudly and in a clear voice.\nTristram stood listening till he had heard it from beginning to end. But\nat the last his anger grew so high that he needed to restrain himself\nfrom slaying the singer where he lay.\nRemembering that Palamides was unarmed, he resisted this impulse, and\nadvanced slowly towards him.\n\"Sir Palamides,\" he said, in a gentle voice, \"I have heard your song,\nand learned your treason to your host. If it were not for the shame of\nan unknightly act I would deal you here the meed you have earned. How\nwill you acquit yourself of treachery?\"\n\"Thus will I,\" said Palamides, springing to his feet in his surprise.\n\"As for Queen Isolde, you may know well that I love her above all other\nladies in the world. I loved her before you ever saw her, as you know,\nand have never ceased nor shall ever cease to love her. What honor I\nhave won is due for the most part to my love of her. Yet never for a\nmoment has she returned my love, and I have been her knight without\nguerdon. Therefore I dread not death, for I had as lief die as live.\"\n\"Well have you uttered your treason,\" said Tristram.\n\"No treason is it,\" said Palamides. \"Love is free to all men, and I have\na right to love any lady I will. If she return it not, no man is harmed.\nSuch wrong as is done I have suffered, not you, for your love is\nreturned and mine has brought me but pain. Yet I shall continue to love\nLa Belle Isolde to the end of my days as deeply as you can.\"\nThat there was reason in these words Tristram could not but have seen,\nhad not anger blinded his wisdom.\n\"None shall love my lady but myself,\" he cried, in passion. \"And for\nwhat you have said I challenge you to battle to the uttermost.\"\n\"I can never fight in a better quarrel,\" said Palamides. \"And if you\nslay me I can never die by a nobler hand. Since I cannot hope for favor\nfrom La Belle Isolde, I have as good will to die as to live.\"\n\"Then set a day in which we shall do battle in this cause.\"\n\"Let it be fifteen days hence. And let the place be in the meadow under\nJoyous Gard.\"\n\"Why so long a time?\" demanded Tristram. \"To-morrow will suit me\nbetter.\"\n\"It is because I am meagre and weak, and have fallen away to a shadow\nthrough hopeless love. I must rest until I get my strength again before\nI can face so doughty a knight.\"\n\"So let it be, then,\" said Tristram. \"Yet once before you broke a\npromise to meet me in battle at the grave near Camelot.\"\n\"What could I do?\" rejoined Palamides. \"I was in prison, and could not\nkeep my word.\"\n\"If you had done so, there would have been no need of a fight now,\" said\nTristram, as he strode haughtily away.\nThen Palamides took his horse and rode to Arthur's court, where he did\nhis utmost to rest and regain strength. When the appointed time\napproached he returned, attended by four knights and four\nsergeant-at-arms.\nMeanwhile Tristram spent his time at the chase. And by evil fortune,\nabout three days before the time of battle, a wild arrow shot by an\narcher at a hart struck him in the thigh and wounded him so deeply that\nhe could scarcely return to Joyous Gard.\nGreat was his heaviness of heart, and neither man nor woman could bring\nhim cheer, for it was now impossible to keep his word with his rival;\nand his heart grew full of the fancy that Palamides himself had shot\nthat arrow, so as to prevent him doing battle on the appointed day. But\nthis no knight about Tristram would believe.\nWhen the fifteenth day came Palamides appeared at the place fixed, with\nthe knights and sergeants whom he had brought with him to bear record of\nthe battle. One sergeant bore his helm, a second his spear, and a third\nhis shield. And for two hours he rested in the field, awaiting the\napproach of his antagonist.\nThen, seeing that Tristram failed to come, he sent a squire to Joyous\nGard to remind him of his challenge. When Tristram heard of this message\nhe had the squire brought to his chamber, and showed him his wound.\n\"Tell Sir Palamides,\" he said, \"that were I able to come he would not\nneed to send for me, and that I had rather be whole to-day than have all\nKing Arthur's gold. Tell him, moreover, that as soon as I am able I\nshall seek him throughout the land, as I am a true knight; and when I\nfind him he shall have his fill of battle.\"\nThis message the squire brought to his master, who heard it with much\nsecret satisfaction.\n\"I would have had hard handling of him, and very likely have been\nvanquished,\" he said, \"for he has not his equal in battle, unless it be\nSir Lancelot. So I am well content to give up the fight.\"\nA month passed before Tristram was well. Then he took his horse and rode\nfrom country to country in search of Palamides, having many strange\nadventures by the way, but nowhere could he meet or hear of his rival\nin love. But during his search Tristram did so many valiant deeds that\nhis fame for the time quite overtopped that of Lancelot, so much so that\nLancelot's kinsmen in their anger would have waylaid and slain the\nvaliant warrior.\nFor this jealousy Lancelot sternly rebuked them, saying,--\n\"Bear it well in mind, that if any of you does any harm to Sir Tristram,\nthat man shall I slay with my own hands. To murder a man like this for\nhis noble deeds! Out upon such base designs! Far rather should you\nworship him for his valor and royal prowess.\"\nAnd so time went on for the space of two years, during which Tristram\nsought in vain for his rival.\nAt the end of that time he came home to Joyous Gard from one of his\njourneys of adventure, and there was told by La Belle Isolde of a great\nfeast to be held at the court on the coming day of Pentecost, which she\ncounselled him strongly to attend.\nMuch debate passed between him and his lady-love on this subject, for he\nwas loth to go without her, and she cared not to go. In the end he\ndeclared that he would obey her wishes, but would ride thither unarmed,\nsave for his sword and spear.\nThis he did, and though she in her loving anxiety sent after him four\nknights, he sent them back within half a mile. Yet he soon had reason to\nrepent his rashness. For hardly had he gone a mile farther when he came\nupon a wounded knight, who told him he owed his hurt to Sir Palamides.\nWhat to do now, Tristram knew not. Near by was the foe he had so long\nsought in vain, and he was unarmed. Should he ride back for his armor,\nor go on as he was?\nWhile he stood thinking, Palamides appeared, and knew him at sight.\n\"Well met, Sir Tristram!\" he cried. \"I have heard much of your search\nfor me. You have found me now, and we shall not part till we have\nsettled our old scores.\"\n\"As for that,\" answered Tristram, \"no Christian can boast that I ever\nfled from him, nor shall a Saracen make this boast, even if I be\nunarmed.\"\nThen he put his horse to the gallop and rode on Palamides with such fury\nthat his spear broke into a hundred pieces. Throwing it away, he drew\nhis sword and struck Palamides six great strokes upon the helm, while\nthe Saracen stood unresisting, and wondering at the folly and madness of\nhis foe. Then Tristram cried out in fury,--\n\"Coward knight, why stand you thus idly? You dare not do battle with me,\nfor doubt not but I can endure all your strength and malice.\"\n\"You know well, Sir Tristram,\" answered Palamides, \"that I cannot in\nhonor strike at your unarmed head. If I should slay you thus, shame\nwould be my lot. As for your valor and hardiness, those I shall never\nquestion.\"\n\"You speak well,\" answered Tristram.\n\"Tell me this,\" continued Palamides. \"Were I here naked of armor, and\nyou full armed as I am, what would you do?\"\n\"I shall not answer from fear, but from truthfulness. I would bid you\ndepart, as I could not have ado with you.\"\n\"No more can I with you,\" said Palamides, \"therefore ride on your way.\"\n\"I shall ride or abide as I may choose,\" said Tristram. \"But tell me\nthis, Palamides: how is it that so good a knight as you refuses to be\nchristened, as your brothers have long been?\"\n\"I cannot become a Christian till a vow I made years ago is fulfilled. I\nbelieve fully in Jesus Christ and His mild mother Mary; but there is one\nbattle yet I must fight, and when that is done I will be baptized with a\ngood will.\"\n\"If that is the battle with me,\" said Tristram, \"you shall not long wait\nfor it. For God defend that through my fault you should continue a\nSaracen. Yonder is a knight whom you have hurt. Help me to put on his\narmor and I will aid you to fulfil your vow.\"\nSo they rode together to the wounded knight, who was seated on a bank.\nTristram saluted him, and he weakly returned the salute.\n\"Will you tell me your name, sir knight?\" asked Tristram.\n\"I am Sir Galleron of Galway, and a Knight of the Round Table.\"\n\"I am sorry for your hurts, and beg you to lend me your armor, for I am\nunarmed, and would do battle with this knight who wounded you.\"\n\"You shall have it with a good will. But you must beware, for this is no\ncommon knight.\"\n\"I know him well,\" answered Tristram, \"and have an old quarrel with\nhim.\"\n\"Will you kindly tell me your name?\"\n\"My name is Tristram de Lyonesse.\"\n\"Then it was idle to warn you. Well I know your renown and worship; and\nSir Palamides is likely to have no light task.\"\nTristram now took off the armor of the wounded knight, who, as well as\nhe could, helped him to put it on himself. This accomplished, Tristram\nmounted his horse and took in his hand Sir Galleron's spear.\nRiding to where Palamides stood waiting, he bade him make ready. In a\nminute more the two strong knights came hurtling together like two\nlions. Each smote the other in the centre of the shield, but Palamides's\nspear broke, while that of Tristram overturned the horse of Palamides.\nIn a moment the unhorsed knight had sprung to his feet and drawn his\nsword, while Tristram alighted, tied his horse to a tree, and advanced\nto the fray.\nThe combat that succeeded was a hard and well-fought one, as only it\ncould be between two such knights. For more than two hours it continued,\nTristram often bringing Palamides to his knees by his mighty strokes,\nwhile Palamides cut through Tristram's shield and wounded him. Then, in\na fury of anger, Tristram rushed upon his rival and hurled him to the\nearth. But in an instant the agile Saracen was on his feet again,\nfighting with all his old strength and skill. And so the combat went on,\nhour by hour, and, hard as Tristram fought, Palamides stood as nobly to\nhis work, and gave him stroke for stroke.\nBut, as fortune willed, in the end a fierce blow struck the sword from\nPalamides's hand, nor dare he stoop for it, for fear of being slain. So\nhe stood moveless, regarding it with a sorrowful heart.\n\"Now,\" said Tristram, \"I have you at advantage, as you had me this day.\nBut it shall never be said that Tristram de Lyonesse killed a weaponless\nknight. Therefore take your sword, and let us make an end of this\nbattle.\"\n\"As for that, I am willing to end it now,\" said Palamides. \"I have no\nwish to fight longer. Nor can I think that my offence is such that we\nmay not be friends. All I have done is to love La Belle Isolde. You will\nnot say that I have done her aught of dishonor by holding that she is\npeerless among ladies, or by the valor which love for her has given me.\nAs for such offence as I have given you, I have atoned for it this day,\nand no one can say that I have not held my own like a man. But this I\nwill affirm, that I never before fought with a man of your might.\nTherefore I beg you to forgive me for all wrongs which I have done you,\nand as my vow is now fulfilled, I stand ready to go with you to the\nnearest church, there to be confessed, and to receive baptism as a true\nand earnest Christian knight.\"\n\"I gladly forgive you all you have done against me,\" said Tristram; \"the\nmore so that you have done it rather from love than from hatred. It\nfills my heart with joy to be the means of bringing the valiant\nPalamides into the Church of Christ, and hereafter I shall hold you\namong my best friends. Within a mile from here is the suffragan of\nCarlisle, who will gladly give you the sacrament of baptism; and all\nChristendom must rejoice to gain so noble a convert.\"\nThen they took their horses and helped Galleron to his, and rode to the\nchurch, where Tristram told the suffragan the purpose of their coming.\nProud to bring into the fold of the church so notable a convert, the\nsuffragan filled a great vessel with water, and hallowed it. This done,\nhe confessed and baptized Sir Palamides, while Tristram and Galleron\nstood as his godfathers.\nAfterwards the three knights rode to Camelot, much to the joy of the\nking and queen, who gladly welcomed Tristram to their court, and were no\nless glad to learn that the valiant Palamides had become a Christian,\nand that the long rivalry between him and Tristram was at an end. The\ngreat feast of Pentecost that followed was the merriest that had ever\nbeen held at Arthur's court, and the merriest that ever would be, for\nthe breath of coming woe and trouble was in the air, and the time was\nnear at hand in which that worthy fellowship of noble knights was\ndestined to break up in dire disaster.\nBut first of all the tide of disaster came upon Tristram the brave and\nIsolde the fair, as we must now relate. The chronicles tell the story at\nlength, but the record of treachery and crime had always best be short,\nand so we shall make that of King Mark, the murderer.\nMany years before the time to which we have now come, King Mark's\ntreachery had filled Cornwall with mischief and all the land with\nhorror, through a deed of frightful crime. And in thus wise it came\nabout. Cornwall had been invaded by a host of Saracens, but before they\ncould do any mischief, Prince Baldwin, King Mark's brother, attacked\nthem, burned their ships, and utterly destroyed them. Furious at heart\nthat his brother should win such honor, while he lay cowering with fear\nin his castle, Mark invited him to Tintagil, with his wife and child.\nThere suddenly charging him with treason for attacking the Saracens\nwithout orders, he stabbed him to the heart, and would have slain his\nwife and child as well had not the lady Anglides fled for life with her\nchild.\nMark sent after them an old knight named Sir Sadok, with orders to bring\nthem back to Tintagil. But he suffered them to escape, and brought back\nto the king a false tale that he had drowned the boy.\nMany years now passed by, during which Baldwin's son, Alexander the\norphan, grew up to be a youth large of limb and strong of arm. In due\ntime he was made a knight, whereupon Anglides produced the bloody\ndoublet and shirt of her murdered husband, which she had carefully\npreserved, and laid upon the young knight the duty of revenging his\nfather's death. The story of the crime had been diligently kept from\nhim, but he now accepted this heavy charge with alacrity, and vowed\nsolemnly to devote his life to the duty of revenging his murdered\nfather.\nNews of all this was quickly brought to King Mark, by a false knight who\nhoped to win favor by turning informer.\n\"By my halidom,\" cried Mark, \"whom can I trust? I fancied the young\nviper was dead years ago. That false hound, Sadok, let him escape. As I\nam a living man, he shall pay the penalty of his treason.\"\nSeizing a sword, he burst furiously from the chamber, and rushed madly\nthrough the castle in search of the knight who had deceived him. When\nSadok saw him coming, with fury in his face, he guessed what had\nhappened, and drew his own sword in haste.\n\"King Mark,\" he cried, \"beware how you come nigh me. I saved the life of\nAlexander, and glory in it, for you slew his father cowardly and\ntreacherously. And it is my hope and prayer that the youth may have the\nstrength and spirit to revenge the good Prince Baldwin on his murderer.\"\n\"What, traitor! What, dog! Do you dare rail thus at me?\" cried the king,\nand in a voice of fury he bade four knights of his following to slay the\ntraitor.\nThese knights drew their swords and advanced in a body on Sadok; but he\ngot the wall of them, and fought so shrewdly that he killed the whole\nfour in King Mark's presence.\nThen, shaking his clinched fist at the king, he said,--\n\"I would add your false body to the heap, but that I leave you for\nAlexander's revenge.\"\nThis said, he took horse and rode briskly away, and in all his court\nMark could not find a knight willing to pursue him, for all that held\nwith the king feared the old knight's sturdy arm.\nKing Mark now finding his wrath of no avail, set himself to devising\nsome scheme of treachery by which the danger that threatened him might\nbe removed. In the end he made a compact with Morgan le Fay and the\nqueen of Northgalis, both false sorceresses, in which they agreed to\nfill the land with ladies that were enchantresses, and with false\nknights like Malgrim and Breuse Sans Pit\u00e9, so that the young knight\nAlexander le Orphelin should be surrounded with magic and treachery, and\nwithout doubt be taken prisoner or slain.\nSoon after his knighting, Alexander set out for King Arthur's court, and\non the way there had many adventures, in which he proved himself a\nknight of great valor and skill. Among these was a mighty battle with\nthe false knight Malgrim, whom in the end he killed.\nBut now Morgan le Fay sought to entrap him by her false devices. She\ngave him a sleeping draught, and had him taken in a horse-litter to a\ncastle of hers named La Belle Regard.\nHere she cured him of his wounds by healing salves, but not until he had\npromised that he would not set foot beyond the boundaries of that castle\nfor a twelvemonth and a day. When he had recovered, Alexander chafed\nbitterly at his confinement, for he felt sure that the pledge had been\nexacted from him to save King Mark from his vow of revenge. Yet his word\nheld him close prisoner.\nAs one day he wandered through the halls of the castle, like a young\nlion in a cage,--now heavy and sad, now burning with desire for\naction,--there came to him a damsel who was cousin to Morgan le Fay, and\nto whom the castle of La Belle Regard by right belonged.\n\"Sir knight,\" she said to him, \"I find you doleful of aspect; yet I bear\ntidings that should make you merry!\"\n\"I pray you tell them to me,\" he answered. \"I am here now a prisoner by\npromise, but must say that time hangs very heavy on my hands.\"\n\"You are more of a prisoner than you deem,\" she replied. \"My cousin,\nMorgan le Fay, keeps you here for purposes of her own which you will\nscarcely find to your liking.\"\n\"I fancy she keeps me here through an understanding with King Mark,\" he\nrejoined. \"I have no faith in her, but I cannot break my word of honor.\"\n\"Truly, fair sir,\" she said, \"I pity your unhappy lot, and have a plan\nin mind through which you may escape from this durance without loss of\nhonor.\"\n\"Do that and I shall owe you my life's service,\" he answered, warmly.\n\"Tell me, dear lady, by what means I can be freed.\"\n\"This I may justly say, that this castle of right belongs to me. I have\nbeen unjustly deprived of it, and in right and honor you are my\nprisoner, not Morgan's. I have an uncle who is a powerful nobleman, the\nEarl of Pase, and who hates Morgan le Fay above all persons. I shall\nsend to him, and pray him for my sake to destroy this castle, which\nharbors only evil customs. He will come at my wish and set fire to the\nbuilding throughout. As for you, I shall get you out at a private\npostern, and there have your horse and armor ready.\"\n\"Truly, fair maiden, you are as wise as you are beautiful,\" he answered,\nin eager accents. \"Release me from imprisonment to Morgan and I will\nhold myself your prisoner for life.\"\nThen she sent to her uncle the earl, and bade him come and burn that\nhaunt of mischief,--a design which he already had in mind.\nWhen the appointed day came the Earl of Pase sought the castle with four\nhundred knights, and set fire to it in all parts, ceasing not his\nefforts till there was not a stone left standing of the once proud\nstronghold.\nBut Alexander was not willing to take this as a release from his vow,\nbut stationed himself within the limits of the space where had stood the\ncastle of La Belle Regard, and made it known far and wide that he would\nhold that ground against all comers for a twelvemonth and a day.\nWord of this knightly challenge soon came to Arthur's court, where was\nthen a lady of famous beauty and great estate, known as Alice la Belle\nPilgrim, daughter of Duke Ansirus, called the pilgrim, since he went on\na pilgrimage to Jerusalem every third year.\nWhen this fair maiden heard of Alexander's challenge, she went into the\ngreat hall of Camelot and proclaimed in the hearing of all the knights\nthat whoever should overcome the champion of La Belle Regard should wed\nher and be lord of all her lands.\nThis done, she went to La Belle Regard, where she set up her pavilion\nbeside the piece of earth held by the young knight. And as the weeks\npassed by there came from all directions knights who had heard of\nAlexander's challenge and Alice's offer, and many a hard battle was\nfought. Yet from them all Alexander came as victor.\nBut the more he triumphed over his knightly foes the deeper he fell\ncaptive to his fair neighbor, for whom he grew to feel so deep a love\nthat it almost robbed him of his wits. Nor was his love unrequited, for\nhis valor and youthful beauty had filled her heart with as ardent a\npassion for him in return, and she prayed as warmly for his victory in\nevery combat as though he had been her chosen champion.\nAnd so time passed on, varied by fighting and love-making, till one day,\nafter Alexander had unhorsed two knights, there came to him the lady to\nwhom he owed the burning of the castle, who told Alice the whole story\nof what had then occurred.\n\"You worked wisely and well,\" answered Alice. \"Sir Alexander, indeed,\nhas not gained much more freedom, except it be freedom to fight. But\nthat is more his fault than yours.\"\n\"Have I not?\" exclaimed the young knight. \"I have gained freedom to love\nalso; for which I am ever beholden to this fair damsel.\"\nAt this Alice turned away with a rosy blush, while the maiden stood\nregarding them with merry smiles.\n\"I have, by right, the first claim on you, Sir Alexander,\" she said.\n\"But if this fair lady wants you, I should be sorry to stand in love's\nlight. I yield my claim in her favor.\"\nAs they thus conversed in merry mood, three knights rode up, who\nchallenged Alexander to joust for the proffered prize of the hand and\nestate of Alice la Belle Pilgrim. But the three of them got such falls\nthat they lost all desire to wed the lady, and, like all knights whom\nAlexander overcame, they were made to swear to wear no arms for a\ntwelvemonth and a day.\nYet love may bring weakness as well as strength, as the young lover was\nto find to his cost. For there came a day in which, as he stood looking\nfrom his pavilion, he saw the lady Alice on horseback outside, and so\ncharming did she appear in his eyes that his love for her became almost\na frenzy. So enamoured was he that all thought of life and its doings\nfled from his brain, and he grew like one demented.\nWhile he was in this state of love-lorn blindness the false-hearted\nknight Sir Mordred rode up with purpose to joust. But when he saw that\nthe youthful champion was besotted with admiration of his lady, and had\nno eyes or mind for aught beside, he thought to make a jest of him, and,\ntaking his horse by the bridle, led him here and there, designing to\nbring the lover to shame by withdrawing him from the place he had sworn\nto defend.\nWhen the damsel of the castle saw this, and found that no words of hers\nwould rouse Alexander from his blind folly, she burned with indignation,\nand bethought her of a sharper means of bringing him back to his lost\nsenses.\nSo she put on her armor and took a sword in her hand, and, mounting a\nhorse, rode upon him with the fury of a knight, giving him such a buffet\non the helm that he thought that fire flew from his eyes.\nWhen the besotted lover felt this stroke he came of a sudden to his\nwits, and felt for his sword. But the damsel fled to the pavilion and\nMordred to the forest, so that Alexander was left raging there, with no\nfoe to repay for that stinging blow.\nWhen he came to understand how the false knight would have shamed him,\nhis heart burned with wrath that Sir Mordred had escaped his hands. But\nthe two ladies had many a jest upon him for the knightly stroke which\nthe damsel had given him on the helm.\n\"Good faith,\" she said, \"I knew not how else to bring back his strayed\nwits. I fancy I would have given him some shrewd work to do if I had\nchosen to stand against him. These men think that none but they can wear\narmor and wield swords. I took pity on your champion, Alice, or it might\nhave gone hard with him,\" and she laughed so merrily that they could not\nbut join her in her mirth.\nAfter that nearly every day Alexander jousted with knights of honor and\nrenown, but of them all not one was able to put him to the worse, and he\nheld his ground to the twelvemonth's end, proving himself a knight of\nthe noblest prowess.\nWhen the year had reached its end and his pledge was fully kept, he\ndeparted from that place with Alice la Belle Pilgrim, who afterwards\nbecame his loving wife, and they lived together with great joy and\nhappiness in her country of Benoye.\nBut though he let love set aside for the time his vow of revenge on King\nMark, he did not forget the duty that lay before him, nor did that\nevil-minded king rest at ease under the knowledge that an avenger was in\nthe land. Many a false scheme he devised to keep Alexander from his\ncourt, and in the end his treacherous plots proved successful, for the\nyoung knight was murdered by some of King Mark's emissaries, with his\nfather's death still unrevenged.\nBut vengeance sleeps not, and destiny had decided that the false-hearted\nking should yet die in retribution for the murder of Prince Baldwin.\nAlexander left a son, who was named Bellengerus le Beuse, and who grew\nup to become a valiant and renowned knight. He it was who avenged the\nslaughter of Prince Baldwin, and also of Sir Tristram, for this noble\nknight was also slain by the felonious king, as we must now tell.\nThrough the good services of King Arthur and Queen Guenever, after\nTristram and Isolde had long dwelt at Joyous Gard, peace was made\nbetween them and King Mark, and they returned to Tintagil, where for a\nlong time all went on in seeming friendship and harmony.\nBut the false king nursed the demon of jealousy deep within his breast,\nand bided his time for revenge. At length, on a day when Tristram,\ndreaming not of danger, sat harping before La Belle Isolde, the\ntreacherous king rushed suddenly upon him with a naked sword in his hand\nand struck him dead at her feet.\nRetribution for this vile deed came quickly, for Bellengerus was at\nTintagil Castle at the time, brought there by thirst of vengeance, and\nwith a heart filled with double fury by the news of this dastardly deed,\nhe rushed upon King Mark as he stood in the midst of his knights and\ncourtiers, and struck him to the heart with his father's avenging\nblade.\nThen, aided by Dinas, Fergus, and others of Tristram's friends, he\nturned upon Andred and the remainder of King Mark's satellites, and when\nthe work of blood was done not one of these false-hearted knights\nremained alive, and the court of Cornwall was purged of the villany\nwhich had long reigned there supreme.\nBut La Belle Isolde loved Tristram with too deep a love to survive his\ndeath, and she fell swooning upon the cross above his tomb and there\nsobbed out her life; and she was buried by his side, that those who had\nbeen so united in life should not be parted in death.\nGreat was the grief and pity aroused throughout England, and through all\nlands where knighthood was held in honor, by this distressful event, for\nnever before had two such faithful lovers breathed mortal air. And long\nthereafter lovers made pilgrimages to their tomb, where many prayed\nfervently for a draught from that magic goblet from which Tristram and\nIsolde drank, and whose wine of love forever after ran so warmly in\ntheir veins.\n THE QUEST OF THE HOLY GRAIL.\nCHAPTER I.\nTHE ENCHANTED CASTLE OF KING PELLAM.\nAfter many years had come and gone, and all at the court of Arthur the\nking had grown older and wiser, there came to pass a series of\nadventures more marvellous than had ever been known upon the earth\nbefore, and of a nobler kind than mere tourneyings and joustings, being\nno less than the quest of the holy vessel named the Sangreal, in which\nwas kept a portion of the blood of our blessed Saviour, Jesus Christ.\nAnd through this quest much disaster came upon the land, and the noble\nfellowship of the Round Table was broken up and destroyed, for many went\nin search of the holy vessel who had lived evil lives, and of these few\ncame back, but most of them died deaths of violence.\nThis sacred talisman--the Sangreal--had been brought to England\ncenturies before by Joseph of Arimathea, a follower of our Saviour, and\nhad passed down from him to his descendant, King Pellam, of Listengeise,\nhim whom Balin struck the dolorous stroke, and who was destined to lie\nin misery and pain until he should be healed of his wound by the winner\nof the holy vessel.\nBut to tell how this perilous quest began we must go long years back and\nrelate a story of strange adventures and marvellous deliverances.\nFor it had happened that during a feast of Whitsuntide Lancelot du Lake\nleft Arthur's court at Camelot and rode afar in search of adventures.\nAnd after a long journey, in which many strange things came to pass, he\narrived at Listengeise, the land of King Pellam. Here he rescued the\nking's fair daughter, Elaine, from a dismal enchantment, under which she\nhad long lain through the wiles of Morgan le Fay and the queen of\nNorthgalis, who hated her bitterly from her renown for beauty.\nAfter the rescue of the lady, Lancelot fought with and killed a mighty\nserpent that haunted a tomb near by, and had done much harm in the land.\nThen there came to him a dignified and noble baron, who thanked him\nheartily in the name of the king, and invited him to a repast in the\ncastle hall.\nBut as they sat at table a wonderful thing took place. For in at the\nopen window of the hall there flew a dove, which bore in its mouth what\nseemed a little censer of gold. And from this censer came such a rich\nand penetrating perfume as if all the spicery of the world had been\nthere, while upon the table suddenly appeared the most delicious of\nmeats and drinks. Then came in a damsel, young and beautiful, who bore\nin her hands a vessel of gold, before which all who were there kneeled\nand prayed devoutly.\n[Illustration: ON THE QUEST OF THE HOLY GRAIL.]\n\"What may all this mean?\" asked Lancelot in deep surprise.\n\"It has been granted you to see the most precious and wonderful thing in\nthe world,\" answered the noble baron. \"For you have been permitted to\ngaze upon the holy Sangreal. In the time to come all Arthur's knights\nshall take part in a quest for this precious talisman, and great shall\nbe the woe therefrom, for through that quest the Round Table fellowship\nshall be broken up and many of its noble knights destroyed.\"\nBut all that passed in that land is too much for us to tell. We shall\nsay only that the fair Elaine came to love Lancelot dearly, but he gave\nher no love in return, for all the affection of his heart was centred\nupon Queen Guenever. Yet King Pellam so desired that Lancelot should wed\nhis fair daughter that in the end he used enchantment, and brought him\nto make her his wife when under a magic spell, the deluded knight\nfancying that it was Guenever whom he had wedded.\nThis delusion last not long, and when the deceived spouse came to his\nsenses and learned how he had been dealt with, he broke away like a\nmadman, and, gaining his horse, rode wildly through the land. And every\nknight-errant who dared to joust with him was made to suffer from the\nfury that burned in his blood.\nLong afterwards, as chance and adventure brought about, there came to\nKing Pellam's castle Sir Bors de Ganis, Lancelot's nephew. He was gladly\nreceived, and treated with all the good cheer and honor which the castle\ncould afford. And as he sat at his repast with, the castle lords, there\ncame in, as it had come to Lancelot, the dove with the censer, at which\nthe air was filled with the richest perfume, and the table covered with\nthe most delicious viands. Then entered the maiden with the holy grail,\nand all fell to their prayers.\n\"Truly,\" said Bors, \"this is a strange place, and a land full of\nmarvels.\"\n\"This I will say,\" answered the noble baron who sat in the king's chair,\n\"that of the knights who come here few see the holy vessel, and fewer go\naway with any honor. Gawaine, the good knight, was here but lately; but\nhe saw not what your eyes have beheld, and he left here in shame. None\nbut those of a worshipful life and who love God devoutly can behold this\nmarvel, or sleep in this castle without coming to harm.\"\n\"I am in quest of adventures,\" said Bors, \"and shall lie in your castle\nthis night, come what will. Men call me honest and virtuous, and I stand\nready to dare all perils the castle may hold.\"\n\"I counsel you not,\" said the baron. \"You will hardly escape without\nharm and shame.\"\n\"Let come what will come, I am ready.\"\n\"Then I advise you to confess, and go to your chamber with a clean soul,\nfor you will be sorely tried.\"\n\"Let it be so. Your counsel is wise.\"\nAfter Sir Bors had been confessed and received absolution, he was led\ninto a fair large chamber, around which were many doors, while a bed of\nroyal richness stood in the middle of the floor. Here he was left alone,\nand threw himself on the bed in his armor, deeming it wise to be\nprepared for all that might come.\nNot long had he lain there with open eyes and alert wits, when the room\nwas all at once brilliantly lighted up, though whence the light came he\ncould not tell. And suddenly a great and long spear, whose point burnt\nlike a taper, shot across the chamber without hand to guide it, and\nstruck him in the shoulder so fierce a blow that his armor was pierced,\nand he received a wound, a hand's-breadth in depth, which pained him\nbitterly.\nQuickly afterwards an armed knight strode in, with shield on shoulder\nand sword in hand, who cried in a harsh voice,--\n\"Arise, sir knight, and fight with me.\"\n\"I shall not fail you,\" said Bors, hot with the pain of his wound. \"I am\nsorely hurt, but I have vowed boldly to dare aught that might come to\nme. If that burning spear came from your hand you shall pay dearly for\nit.\"\nWith these words he sprang from the bed and attacked the intruder, and a\nhard and stern battle began, which lasted long. At the end the intruding\nknight was driven backward to a chamber door, through which he passed,\nleaving Bors master of the floor.\nBut hardly had he rested a minute when the defeated knight returned, as\nfresh as at the start, and attacked Bors with renewed strength. Again\nthe battle went on fiercely. But when Bors saw his antagonist once more\nretreating towards the chamber door, he cried out,--\n\"Not so, my good fellow. You played that trick on me once; you shall\nnot again. Back and defend yourself. If you defeat me it shall be by\nstrength, not by magic.\" And he stationed himself before the door, and\ndrove back his opponent with such fury, that in a moment more he hurled\nhim to the floor.\n\"Yield, or you die!\" he cried, setting his foot on the fallen knight's\nhead.\n\"I yield,\" came the answer.\n\"What is your name?\"\n\"I am Sir Pedivere of the Straight Marches.\"\n\"Then, Sir Pedivere of the Straight Marches, take yourself away. And if\nyou have any of your fellows behind yonder door, bid them to keep out of\nthis room, for I came here to sleep, not to fight. At Whitsunday next,\npresent yourself at King Arthur's court, and tell him that you have come\nthither as a prisoner of Sir Bors of the sharp sword.\"\nThis, Sir Pedivere swore to do, and left his conqueror to what rest he\ncould get. But this was little, for enchantment surrounded the daring\nknight. The room suddenly became full of frightful noises and alive with\nperil. Whence they came he knew not, whether through doors or windows,\nbut a flight of arrows and of crossbow bolts filled the air, whistling\nshrewdly past his ears, while many of them fell upon him and pierced his\nflesh through the open places in his armor.\n\"Who can sleep in such a den of witchcraft as this?\" he cried, in a\nrage, springing from the bed. As he did so one of the doors opened, and\na great lion leaped fiercely in, with a hideous roar.\n\"It is better to fight a lion that one can see, than arrows which nobody\nshoots,\" cried Bors, and he rushed without hesitation on the dangerous\nanimal.\nSharp was the fight that followed, but of short duration. The lion\nsprang wildly upon him, and tore the shield from his arm, while the\nsharp claws rent his flesh. But the knight retorted with a sweeping\nstroke that cut off the frightful beast's head, and stretched its tawny\nbody lifeless on the floor.\nThen Bors walked to the window to see whither the arrows had come, and\nas he looked into the castle court he beheld a wondrous sight. For\nbefore his eyes stood a dragon, huge and horrible of aspect, in whose\nforehead were letters of gold which seemed to him to form King Arthur's\nemblem. And as he gazed there leaped into the court an old and mighty\nleopard, which sprang upon the dragon and engaged in desperate battle\nwith the huge monster.\nAt last the dragon spit out of its mouth a hundred of what seemed small\ndragons, and these quickly leaped upon the frightful beast and rent it\nto fragments. Then all the animals disappeared, and an old man came into\nthe court, around whose neck two adders wreathed their folds. In his\nhand was a harp, upon which he played, while he sang an old song telling\nhow Joseph of Arimathea came to that land. When his song was ended he\nsaid to Sir Bors,--\n\"Go from this land, sir knight, for you shall have no more adventures\nhere. You have played your part well and nobly, and shall do still\nbetter hereafter, for wondrous things are reserved for you.\"\nThen Bors saw a dove of whitest plumage fly across the court with a\ngolden censer in its mouth, from which seemed to stream the most\ndelicious perfumes. And the tempest which had raged in the sky suddenly\nceased, while from the rent clouds the full moon poured down its white\nlight to the earth.\nNext there came into the court four children who bore four tapers, and\nan old man in their midst with a censer in one hand a spear in the\nother, and that spear was called the spear of vengeance.\n\"Go to your cousin, Sir Lancelot,\" said the old man, \"and tell him what\nyou have seen, and that if he had been as clean of sin as he should be,\nthe adventure which all this signifies would have been his. Tell him,\nmoreover, that though in worldly adventures he passes all others in\nmanhood and prowess, there are many his betters in spiritual worth, and\nthat what you have seen and done this night he was not deemed worthy\nof.\"\nThen Bors saw four meanly-dressed gentlewomen pass through his chamber,\nand enter an apartment beyond which was lit up with a light like that of\nmidsummer. Here they knelt before an altar of silver with four pillars,\nwhere also kneeled a man in the dress of a bishop. And as the knight\nlooked upward he beheld a naked sword hovering over his head, whose\nblade shone like silver, yielding a flashing light that blinded him as\nhe gazed. As he stood thus sightless, he heard a voice which said,--\n\"Go hence, Sir Bors, for as yet thou art not worthy to be in this\nplace.\"\nThen the door of that chamber closed, and he went backward to his bed,\nwhere he lay and slept undisturbed till morning dawned. But when the\nregent of King Pellam learned what had happened to his guest in the\nnight, and how he had escaped the perils of the enchanted chamber, he\ngreeted him joyfully, and said,--\n\"You are the first that ever endured so well that chamber's mysteries.\nAnd more has been shown to your eyes than any others have seen. Go home,\nworthy knight. You are chosen for great deeds in the time to come.\"\nSir Bors thereupon took his horse and rode away, thinking long and\ndeeply on all that had happened to him.\nCHAPTER II.\nTHE MARVEL OF THE FLOATING SWORD.\nMany and strange were the events that followed those we have just\nrelated, and great trouble and woe came therefrom. For when Sir Bors\nreturned to Camelot and told the story of the wedding of Lancelot and\nElaine, much was the secret talk and great the scandal. And when the\nnews came to Guenever's ears she flamed with wrath.\nNot long afterwards, Lancelot returned, still half frenzied with the\ndeception that had been practised upon him. When Guenever saw him she\naccused him bitterly of being a traitor to love, and harshly bade him\nleave the court, and never come again within her sight.\nThis bitter reviling turned Lancelot's frenzy to a sudden madness. With\ndistracted brain he leaped from a window into a garden, and ran like a\nwild man through wood and brake, heedless that his clothes were torn and\nhis flesh rent with thorns and briers. Thus hotly burns despised love in\nthe human heart and brain, and thus it may turn the strongest senses\naway and bring madness to the clearest mind.\nOn learning what had passed, Bors and Hector went to the queen, and\naccused her harshly of the great wrong she had done to the noble\nLancelot. But she was already torn with remorse, and she knelt before\nthese noble knights, begging their forgiveness, and praying them\npitifully to seek Lancelot and bring him back to the court.\nMonths passed and Lancelot returned not, nor could he be found, though\nhe was sought through many lands. For he kept afar from cities and\ncourts, and roamed through wilds and wastes, where he had many\nadventures in his madness, and did strange and wild things.\nFor two years he wandered hither and thither in frenzy, until at length\nhe came to King Pellam's city of Corbin, and to the castle where dwelt\nthe fair Elaine. Here he was given shelter in a little outhouse, with\nstraw to sleep on, while every day they threw him meat and set him\ndrink, for none would venture near a madman of such savage aspect.\nBut one day as he slept, Elaine chanced to behold him, and knew him at\nonce for Lancelot. Telling a trusty baron of her discovery, she had the\ndistracted knight borne still sleeping into a tower chamber in which was\nkept the holy vessel, the Sangreal, concealed from all eyes save those\nof persons of saintly life. Lancelot was laid near this, and when all\nhad left the chamber a man of sanctity entered and uncovered the vessel.\nSuch was its holy influence that it wrought marvellously upon the\ndistracted knight as he lay there asleep and the madness passed away\nfrom his brain. When he woke he was himself again, as whole a man in\nmind and body as any that stood upon the earth. For so healing was the\nvirtue of that precious vessel that it not only drove the cloud of\nmadness from his mind, but gave him back all his old might and\ncomeliness of body.\nThen, ashamed of his frenzy, and anxious not to be known, Lancelot\nassumed the name of the Chevalier Mal Fet, or the knight who has\ntrespassed, and took up his abode with Elaine and many knights and\nladies at a castle given him by King Pellam. This stood on an island in\nthe midst of a deep and clear lake, which Lancelot named the Joyous\nIsle. And now, filled again with martial fervor, he made it known far\nand wide that he would joust with any knights that came that way, and\nthat any one who should put him to the worst would receive as a prize a\njewel of worth and a jerfalcon.\nBut none won the prize, though very many noble knights jousted with the\nChevalier Mal Fet.\nLast of all came Percivale and Hector, who had been long in search of\nLancelot. Learning the challenge, Percivale jousted with Lancelot, and\nafterwards they fought with swords. So long and even was their combat,\nthat a length both paused for breath. And now Percivale, wondering who\nthis sturdy knight could be, told his name, and asked for his in return.\nAt this, Lancelot threw away his weapon, and took his late opponent in\nhis arms, crying out that he was Lancelot du Lake.\nGlad was the meeting between these old friends and comrades, and richly\nwere the new-comers entertained in the castle. But in the end they\npersuaded Lancelot to go with them to Camelot, and the disconsolate\nElaine was left to return, with her knights and ladies, to her father's\ncastle.\nAfter these events years came and went, until many summers and winters\nhad passed over England's fair isle, and age had begun to lay its hand\non those who had been young, while those who had been children grew up\nand became knights and ladies. Then came at length the time fixed by\ndestiny for the adventure of the Sangreal. And thus this adventure\nbegan.\nWhen again approached the vigil of Pentecost, and all the fellowship of\nthe Round Table had come to Camelot, and the tables were set to dine,\nthere rode into the great hall a gentlewoman of noble aspect, whose\nhorse was white with sweat and foam.\nShe saluted Lancelot and begged him to go with her, though whither and\nfor what purpose she would not say. Stirred by his love of adventure, he\narmed and rode with her, and before the day's end reached an abbey of\nnuns in a secluded valley. Here, as he stood conversing with the abbess,\nthere came in to him twelve nuns, bringing with them a youth who had not\nyet reached manhood, but was large and powerful of frame, and as\nhandsome of face as any man he had ever seen.\n\"Sir,\" said the ladies, with weeping eyes, \"we bring you this child,\nwhom we have long nourished, and pray you to make him a knight; for\nthere is no worthier man from whom he can receive the order of\nknighthood, and we hold him worthy of your sword.\"\nLancelot looked long at the young squire, and saw that he was seemly,\nand demure as a dove, and of wonderful beauty of form and features, and\nhis heart went out with great love for the beautiful youth.\n\"What is his name?\" asked Lancelot.\n\"We call him Galahad.\"\n\"Comes this desire from himself?\"\n\"It does,\" said they all.\n\"From whom has he sprung?\"\n\"His mother is dead. His father is a full noble knight, as you shall\nsoon learn.\"\n\"Then he shall be knighted by my hand to-morrow at the morning services,\nfor truly he seems worthy of it.\"\nThat night, Lancelot's cousins, Bors and Lionel, stopped at the abbey,\nand spent there a cheery evening with their noble kinsman. At early morn\nof the next day he gave the accolade to the youth, pronouncing him\nknight, and bidding Bors and Lionel to stand as his godfathers in the\norder of knighthood.\n\"And may God make you a good man and a noble knight,\" he said. \"Beauty\nyou have now, equal to any I have ever seen, and strength and courage I\ndoubt not; if you bear with these a noble heart and an earnest mind you\nhave the best treasures that God can confer or man possess.\"\nThen, when they had broken their fast, Lancelot said to the demure and\nmodest young knight,--\n\"Fair sir, will you come with me to the court of King Arthur?\"\n\"I humbly beg your pardon,\" said Galahad, \"but I cannot come at this\ntime. Trust me to follow soon.\"\nThen Lancelot and his cousins left the abbey and rode to Camelot, where\nthey arrived before the hour of the feast. In the great hall were many\nnoble knights, some of them strangers, who walked about the Round Table,\nreading the names in letters of gold in the several seats, and saying,--\n\"Here sits Gawaine, here Lancelot, here Percivale,\" and so with the\nothers.\nAt length they came to the seat perilous, in which no man but Percivale\nhad hitherto dared to sit, and which he no longer occupied. To their\ndeep surprise they found there newly written in letters of gold these\nwords,--\n\"Four hundred and fifty-four winters after the passion of our Lord Jesus\nChrist, the knight shall come for whom this seat is held by destiny.\"\n\"What marvellous thing is this?\" cried all who saw it. \"Here is a\nmiracle.\"\n\"In the name of God, what means it?\" cried Lancelot. \"Percivale long\nsince had warning to leave that seat. Who shall fill it to-day, for this\nis the feast of Pentecost of the four hundred and fifty-fourth year. The\nyear and day have come, but where and who is the man? I advise that\nthese letters be hidden, till he come for whom this seat is\npre-ordained.\"\nThen it was ordered that the writing should be covered with a cloth of\nsilk; and the king bade his guests to hasten to dinner, and forget for\nthe time being what they had seen.\n\"Sir,\" said Kay, the steward, \"if you go to table now you will break\nyour old custom, not to sit at dinner on this day till you have seen or\nheard of some adventure.\"\n\"Very true,\" said the king. \"I had forgotten my custom through this\nstrange event.\"\nAs they stood thus speaking, there came hastily into the court a squire,\nwhose eyes were big with wonder.\n\"Sire, I bring you marvellous tidings,\" he cried to the king.\n\"What are they?\" demanded Arthur.\n\"As I stood but now by the river, I saw floating on its waters a great\nsquare stone, and above this stood the hilt of a sword, whose blade was\nthrust deeply into the stone.\"\n\"A stone that floats!\" said the king. \"That is strange, indeed. I must\nsee this marvel.\"\nThen he, followed by all the knights, went to the river, and saw there\nthat the squire had spoken truly; for a great stone that seemed of red\nmarble floated like wood on the water, and thrust deeply into it was a\nrich sword, in whose pommel were many jewels of price. As they looked in\nwonder the stone whirled inward on an eddy and came aground at their\nfeet. And now they saw that the precious stones were set in letters of\ngold, which none there could read. But there was a man at the court\nlearned in strange tongues, and he being sent for, read these with ease,\nand thus interpreted them,--\n\"Never shall the hand of man draw me from this stone until he comes by\nwhose side I am to hang; and he shall be the best knight in the world.\"\n\"Lay your hand on this sword and draw it,\" said the king to Lancelot.\n\"To you it surely belongs; for you are the best knight in the world.\"\n\"Best of hand, mayhap, but not of heart and life,\" said Lancelot,\nsoberly. \"Certes, sir, that sword is not for me, nor have I the\nhardiness to set hand thereto. I had a vision in my last night's sleep,\nand this it told me: that he who seeks to draw that sword, and fails\ntherein, shall in time receive from it a wound which shall be very long\nin healing. And this more I learned, that this same day, and with the\ndrawing of that sword, shall begin the marvellous quest of the holy\nvessel, the Sangreal. For fate has destined that this precious amulet\nshall be sought throughout the world; and to him who finds it the\ngreatest of earth's honors shall come.\"\nThe king and all the knights heard these words with wonder, for Lancelot\nspoke like one inspired. Then Arthur turned to Gawaine.\n\"Fair nephew,\" he said, \"try you this task for my love.\"\n\"Saving your good grace,\" said Gawaine, \"that I shall not do.\"\n\"Then, sir, seek to draw the sword at my command.\"\n\"Your command I must obey,\" said Gawaine, \"yet I dread to meddle with\nmagic.\"\nThen he took the sword by the handle, and pulled with all his might, but\nhe could not stir it.\n\"I thank you,\" said the king, \"for the trial, even if you have failed.\"\n\"My lord Gawaine,\" said Lancelot, \"bear well in mind, this sword shall\ntouch you so sore that you would give the best castle in this kingdom\nnot to have set your hand thereto.\"\n\"It may be,\" answered Gawaine. \"Yet I could not disobey the command of\nthe king.\"\nThen the king turned to Percivale, and asked him for his love to try the\ntask.\n\"Gladly will I,\" he said, \"if only to bear Gawaine fellowship.\"\nBut pull as strongly as he would, the sword yielded not to his hand. And\nthere were more there so hardy as to disregard Lancelot's warning and\nseek to draw the sword, but to no hand would it yield.\n\"Try no more,\" said Kay to the king. \"You have seen your marvel, and now\nmay, with a good appetite, go to your dinner.\"\nThis advice seemed timely to the king, and all went to the court, where\nthe knights took their seats at the Round Table, and were served by\nyoung men lately made knights. When they had been fully served, every\nseat being filled save the seat perilous, another marvellous thing\nhappened. For suddenly all the doors and windows of the hall shut of\nthemselves. Yet the room was not greatly darkened, and men looked into\none another's faces with abashed and frightened visages.\n\"Fair fellows and lords,\" said the king, \"this is a day of strange\nevents. And I doubt if we shall not see greater before night comes, for\nit seems a day set aside by the fates.\"\nAs he spoke, there came into the hall an ancient man, clothed all in\nwhite, but no knight knew through which door he had entered. By the hand\nhe led a young knight, clad in red armor, but without sword or shield,\nan empty scabbard hanging by his side.\n\"Peace be with you, fair lords,\" said the old man. Then he turned to\nKing Arthur, and said,--\n\"Sir, I bring with me a young knight who is of kingly lineage, and of\nthe kindred of Joseph of Arimathea. By his hand many strange marvels are\ndestined to be accomplished.\"\nThe king heard these words with close attention, and answered\ngraciously,--\n\"Sir, you are right welcome here, and the young knight you bring.\"\nThen the old man removed the youth's armor, and put upon him a coat of\nred sendal and a mantle that was furred with ermine. And Lancelot saw\nthat the young man was he whom he had knighted that morning at the\nabbey.\n[Illustration: JOSEPH OF ARIMATHEA.]\nBut the chief wonder of the day was now to appear. For the old man said\nto his young companion,--\n\"Sir, follow me.\" He led him around the table till they came to the seat\nperilous, beside which sat Lancelot. Here the old man lifted up the\nsilken cloth, and lo! the letters which had been covered were gone, and\nnew letters of gold were visible, which read,--\n\"This is the seat of Galahad, the high prince.\"\n\"Sir,\" said the old man, \"this seat is yours. Long has it waited your\ncoming.\"\nAnd he seated him therein, while all the circle of knights looked on in\nwonder. Now for the first time the young knight spoke.\n\"Dear sir,\" he said, \"you may now depart, for you have done well what\nyou were commanded to do. Recommend me to my grandsire, King Pellam, and\nsay to him that I will come and see him as soon as I may.\"\nWith this the old man departed. Outside there waited twenty noble\nsquires, who mounted when he came, and rode away with him. The Knights\nof the Round Table marvelled greatly at all this, and the more so on\nseeing that he who occupied that chair of peril was one so tender of\nage, and a youth whom no one knew, nor whence he came; but to one\nanother they privately said,--\n\"This is he by whom the Sangreal shall be achieved; for none ever sat\nthere before but Percivale, and he was not long deemed worthy to occupy\nthat seat.\"\nThe talk of this strange event quickly passed through the palace, and\ncame to the queen, who heard it with wonder. Those who brought word\nsaid that the youth resembled Sir Lancelot.\n\"I must see this strange thing,\" she said, and, followed by her ladies,\nshe entered the hall.\n\"It is Sir Lancelot in youth again,\" she cried, on looking the young\nknight in the face. \"Fair sir, tell me truly, what father had you, and\nwhat mother.\"\n\"King Pellam is my grandsire,\" answered Galahad, \"and Elaine was my\nmother. As for my father, I know him not.\"\n\"Then do I,\" cried the queen, \"for he sits beside you. Sir Lancelot is\nyour father. You are son unto the noblest knight that ever wore sword.\"\nAt these words Lancelot rose up in haste, for he had not dreamed of what\nwas to come; and he clasped the youth in his arms and kissed his fair\nyoung face with a love that overflowed his heart.\n\"My son!\" he said. \"Can it be? Greatly, indeed, have I felt drawn unto\nyou.\"\n\"And my heart went out to you, dear father,\" said Galahad, \"from the\nmoment I looked upon your noble face.\"\nThe sight of this affecting meeting filled all hearts there with joy,\nand the king warmly congratulated Lancelot on having found so worthy a\nson; \"for to him, I dare avow,\" he said, \"is destined that great\nachievement of the Sangreal of which you have this day told us.\"\nThen Arthur took Galahad by the hand, and said,--\n\"Come with me, young sir,\" and led him from the palace to the river to\nshow him the marvel of the stone. After them followed the knights, and\nthe queen and ladies of the court, all full of hope of greater wonders\nyet to come.\n\"Sir,\" said the king, \"that sword floated hither this day. Many knights\nof great prowess have tried to draw it and failed.\"\n\"That is no marvel,\" said Galahad. \"The sword is not theirs, but mine.\nAnd since I knew it awaited me I have brought no sword; but its\nscabbard, as you may see, hangs by my side.\"\nThen he laid his hand upon the sword, and, while all eyes opened wide\nwith wonder, drew it from the stone as easily as if it came from the\nwater only, and thrust it into the scabbard, saying to the king,--\n\"It fits there better than in a floating stone.\"\n\"God has sent it you,\" said the king. \"And I doubt not he will send you\na shield in as marvellous a manner.\"\n\"This is the sword that at one time belonged to Balin le Savage,\" said\nGalahad, \"and with which he killed his brother Balan, in that terrible\njoust which happened many years ago. The scabbard I wear was Balin's\nscabbard, and it was Merlin who put the sword into that stone, saying\nthat no hand should draw it but that of Lancelot, or his son Galahad.\nNor can any man have forgotten the dolorous stroke which Balin dealt my\ngrandfather King Pellam, of which he is not yet healed, nor shall be\ntill I heal him. So has Merlin prophesied.\"\nAs they talked thus a lady on a white palfrey was seen riding down the\nriver side to where they stood. Reaching the group, she saluted the\nking and queen, and asked if Sir Lancelot were there.\n\"I am here, fair lady,\" he answered.\n\"Sad is it,\" she said, while tears flowed from her eyes, \"that all your\ngreat renown is changed since this day's dawn.\"\n\"Damsel, why say you this?\"\n\"Until to-day you were the best knight in the world,\" she answered. \"But\nhe who should say this now would speak falsely, for there has come a\nbetter than you. And this is proved by the adventure of the sword to\nwhich you dared not set your hand. Remember well what I have said.\"\n\"As touches that,\" rejoined Lancelot, \"I never had the pride of being\nthe best knight in the world, nor do I envy my son if any worship has\npassed from me to him.\"\n\"Yet you were the greatest; and still are among sinful men,\" she\npersisted. \"And, sir king,\" she said to Arthur, \"this more I am bid to\nsay, from the holy lips of Nancien the hermit, that to you shall fall\nto-day the greatest of honors; for this day the Sangreal shall appear in\nyour palace, and feed you and all your fellowship of the Round Table!\"\nWith these words she turned her palfrey and rode away as she had come,\nleaving all who had heard her lost in wonder and admiration.\nWhen they had a little got over their wonder at what they had seen, the\nking gave orders that the stone should be taken from the water, saying\nthat he would have it set up as a monument of those strange events.\n\"And as it may be long before you all come together here again, I should\nlike to have you joust in the meadow of Camelot, by way of honor to this\nday.\"\nThus he spoke; but his real purpose was to see Galahad proved, for he\nfeared that if he once left the court it might be long before he should\nsee him again. Then the knights put on their armor and rode to the\nmeadow in a gallant cavalcade. Galahad also, at the earnest request of\nthe king, put on armor, but he would take no shield, though the king and\nLancelot prayed him to do so. The most he would consent to do was to\ntake a spear.\nBut noble work he did that day, meeting all men who cared to break\nspears with him, so that by the end of the joust he had thrown down many\ngood Knights of the Round Table. Only two of them, Lancelot and\nPercivale, were able to keep their seats against the vigorous onset of\nthe strong young knight.\nWhen the jousting was at an end, the king and knights went back to\nCamelot, where they attended even-song at the great minster. Thence they\nproceeded to the palace hall, where all took their seats at the table\nfor supper.\nBut as they sat eating, there came outside a terrible crash of thunder,\nand a wind arose that seemed as if it would rend the great hall from its\nfoundations. In the midst of this blast the hall was lighted by a sudden\ngleam seven times brighter than the midday light, in whose glare the\nknights sat dumb, none daring to speak. But each looked at the others,\nand it seemed to each that his fellows were fairer of visage than he\nhad ever seen them before.\nThen the storm and the glare passed away as suddenly as they had come,\nand there entered the hall the holy grail. None there saw it, for it was\ncovered with white samite, but the hall was filled with the rarest\nodors, and each knight saw on the table before him the meats and drinks\nthat he loved best in the world.\nWhen the holy vessel had passed through the hall, it suddenly vanished,\nnone knew how. And not till then dared any man speak.\n\"Certes,\" said the king, \"we ought to thank God devoutly for what he has\nshown us this day.\"\n\"We have enjoyed the richest of perfumes, and have before us the rarest\nof food,\" said Gawaine; \"and we have but one thing to regret, that the\nsacred vessel was so preciously covered that no eye might behold it. But\nthis miracle has filled my soul with the warmest desire to see this holy\nthing, and I therefore vow that to-morrow, without delay, I shall set\nout in quest of the Sangreal, and shall not return hither till I have\nseen it more openly, if it take me a twelvemonth or more. If I fail in\nthe end, I shall return as one who is not worthy to behold the holy\nvessel.\"\nOn hearing these words the other knights arose as one man, and repeated\nthe vow which Gawaine had made.\nUpon this, King Arthur sprang to his feet in deep displeasure, for there\ncame to his mind like a vision a host of evil consequences from this\ninconsiderate vow.\n\"You are over-hasty, Gawaine,\" he said, sharply, \"and have done me a\nlifelong evil with your vow. For you have bereft me of the fairest\nfellowship that ever came together in this world. When my knights depart\nhence on that difficult search, well I know that they will never all\nmeet again in this world, for many shall die in the quest. Therefore it\ndistresses me deeply, for I have loved them as I loved my life, and I\nwould rather have my soul depart from my body than to lose their noble\nfellowship. Long have we dwelt together in sorrow and in joy, but I fear\nour happy days are at an end, and that trouble and suffering await us in\nthe time to come. What God wills must be, but my heart is sore at the\nthought of it.\"\nAnd men who looked upon the king could see tears of distress and grief\nflowing from his eyes.\nCHAPTER III.\nHOW GALAHAD GOT HIS SHIELD.\nWhen morning came the knights made ready for their departure, amid the\ntears and lamentations of ladies, and with the deep sorrow of the king\nand queen. For there were a hundred and fifty of them in all, comprising\nthe whole fellowship of the Table Round, and King Arthur had deep reason\nfor his fear that he would never gather all these gallant knights round\nhis festal board again. And so they mounted and rode through the streets\nof Camelot, where was weeping of rich and poor, and the king turned away\nand could not speak for grief, while Queen Guenever hid herself in her\nchamber, to be alone with her bitter sorrow at the going of Lancelot.\nOnward they rode in company until they came to a castle and town that\nwere named Vagon. There they stopped and were well entertained by the\nlord of the castle, who was a man of great hospitality. But when morning\ncame it was decided between them that they should separate, each taking\nhis own course, so that the Sangreal might be sought in all quarters.\nThis they did with much sorrow and many fervent farewells, each knight\ntaking the way that he liked the best, and riding alone and afar on his\nperilous quest.\nFirst must we follow the young knight Galahad, who still rode without a\nshield, and who passed onward for four days without an adventure. Near\neventide of the fourth day he came to a white abbey, where he was\nreceived with great respect, and led to a chamber that he might lay off\nhis armor. And here, to his surprise, he met with two of the goodly\ncompany from which he had lately parted, Sir Uwaine and King Bagdemagus.\n\"Sirs,\" said Galahad, \"what adventure brought you hither?\"\n\"We are told,\" they replied, \"that within this place is a shield of\nperilous significance. For he who bears it about his neck runs deep risk\nof being slain within three days, or maimed forever. Yet,\" said\nBagdemagus, \"I shall bear it to-morrow and try my fortune.\"\n\"In the name of God, try it,\" said Galahad. \"Yet truly you take a great\nrisk.\"\n\"If I fail therein, you shall take the adventure. I am sure you will not\nfail.\"\n\"I agree to that,\" said Galahad. \"I have ridden far enough without a\nshield.\"\nThen they went to supper, and afterwards to sleep. When morning came\nBagdemagus asked of the abbot where the magic shield was, and a monk led\nhim behind an altar where hung a shield as white as snow, but with a red\ncross in its centre.\n\"I hope you are well advised of what you do,\" said the monk. \"No knight,\nunless he be the worthiest in the world, can safely bear this shield.\"\n\"I know well that I am not the best of knights,\" said Bagdemagus; \"and\nyet I shall wear it and dare the danger.\"\nThen he took it out of the monastery, and said to Galahad,--\n\"If it please you, await me here till you learn how I shall speed.\"\n\"I shall await tidings,\" said Galahad.\nBagdemagus now rode forward with a squire, that he might send back\ntidings of his good or ill fortune, and passed onward for two miles,\nwhen he found himself in a valley before a hermitage. Here he saw a\nstalwart knight in white armor, horse and all, who, in seeing the\nred-cross shield, rode upon him at the full speed of his charger.\nBagdemagus put his spear in rest and rode to meet him, but his spear\nbroke on the white knight, while he was wounded in the right shoulder\nand borne from his horse, the treacherous shield refusing to cover him.\nThen the victor knight alighted and took the white shield from him,\nsaying,--\n\"Sir knight, you have acted with more folly than wisdom, for you should\nhave known that only he who has no peer living can safely bear this\nshield.\"\nThen he went to the squire who had come with King Bagdemagus, and\nsaid,--\n\"Bear this shield to the good knight Sir Galahad, whom you left in the\nabbey, and greet him from me.\"\n\"What shall I tell him is your name?\"\n\"Take no heed of my name. That is not for you to know, nor for any\nearthly man. Content yourself with telling Sir Galahad that this shield\nis for him, and for no other man to wear. And may God aid him to bear it\nworthily and worshipfully.\"\nBut the squire went first to Bagdemagus and asked him if he were\nseriously wounded.\n\"Forsooth, I am,\" he said. \"I shall scarce escape from death.\"\nThe squire then conveyed him in great pain to the hermitage, and left\nhim in care of the hermit. And as the chronicle tells, he lay there\nlong, and barely escaped with life.\n[Illustration: Copyright 1895 by E. A. Abbey; from a Copely print\ncopyright 1896 by Curtis and Cameron.\nOATH OF KNIGHTHOOD.]\n\"Sir Galahad,\" said the squire, when he had returned to the abbey, \"King\nBagdemagus has paid dearly for his venture. He lies at a hermitage\nsorely wounded. As for you, the knight that overthrew him sends you\ngreeting, and bids you to bear this shield, through which marvellous\nadventures shall come to you.\"\n\"Then blessed be God and fortune,\" said Galahad.\nHe now resumed his arms and mounted his horse, hanging the white shield\nabout his neck and commending himself to God. Uwaine offered to bear him\ncompany, but this was not to be.\n\"Sir knight,\" said Galahad, \"I thank you for your offer, but I must go\nalone, save that this squire shall bear me fellowship.\"\nWith these words the youthful knight rode away, and soon came to where\nthe white knight abode by the hermitage. They saluted each other\ncourteously, and fell into a conversation in which the white knight told\nGalahad the story of the magical shield.\n\"In the far past time,\" he said, \"soon after Joseph of Arimathea took\ndown the body of our Lord from the holy cross, and bore it from\nJerusalem to a city named Sarras, there was a king of Sarras named\nEvelake, who was then at war with the Saracens. This king, through the\nteachings of Joseph, was converted from the old law to the new, and for\nhim this shield was made, in the name of Him who died on the cross.\nAfterwards, when Evelake was in battle, the shield was covered with a\ncloth, which was only removed in times of deadly peril, and then his\nenemies saw the figure of a man on the cross, before which they fell\nback discomfited. At times the cross of the shield would vanish away,\nand at times stand out clear and bright; and such was its virtue that a\nsoldier whose hand was stricken off was made whole again by touching\nthe cross. The time came at length when Joseph left Palestine and\njourneyed westward, and King Evelake with him, till they came to Great\nBritain, where all the people had been pagans, but were then converted\nto the Christian faith. Soon afterwards Joseph sickened and came near to\ndeath, and while he lay in his bed he bade Evelake bring him the shield,\nand on it he traced a red cross with his own blood. Then he said to\nEvelake, 'No man hereafter shall bear this shield but he shall repent\nit, until Galahad, the last of my lineage, shall come to seek it, and\nwith it he shall do marvellous deeds.' 'Where shall the shield await his\ncoming?' asked Evelake. 'You shall leave it in the abbey where Nancien\nthe hermit shall lie after his death, and thither the knight Galahad\nshall come for it soon after he receives the order of knighthood.' This\nis the story of the shield, and this day has the prediction been\nfulfilled. Wear the shield worthily and well, young knight, for much\nglory and renown shall come to you through it. You are in God's hands;\nto God commend yourself.\"\nWith these words the white knight vanished away, and in the place where\nhe had stood was seen but empty air.\nThen the squire, who had heard these words, alighted and kneeled at\nGalahad's feet, praying that he would make him a knight.\n\"That I shall consider,\" said Galahad. \"But now let us return to the\nabbey.\"\nHere Galahad drove away a fiend that had long dwelt in a tomb near by,\nwhere it made such noise that none could venture near it. But the\nvirtue of the shield protected him from all harm from this evil shape,\nwhich was forced to depart.\nWhen morning came, he asked the young squire his name.\n\"Sir,\" he answered, \"men call me Melias de Lile, and I am the son of the\nking of Denmark.\"\n\"Then, fair sir, since you come of kings and queens, I shall make you a\nknight; and look you that knighthood sit well on you, for you should be\na mirror of chivalry.\"\n\"That shall I seek to be,\" said Melias.\nThen Galahad gave him the accolade as he kneeled before him, and bade\nhim rise a knight.\n\"Now, dear sir,\" said Melias, \"since you have done me this high honor,\nit is but right that you grant me my first request, so that it be in\nreason.\"\n\"You speak justly,\" said Galahad.\n\"I beg, then, that you let me ride with you in the quest of the Sangreal\ntill some adventure shall part us.\"\n\"That I grant willingly.\"\nArmor was now brought to Melias, and when it had been girded upon him he\nand Galahad rode away, and passed onward all that week without an\nadventure. But on the Monday next, as they set out from an abbey, they\ncame to where a cross marked a parting of the road. On the cross was\nwritten,--\n\"Ye knights-errant, that ride in quest of adventures, here lie two ways.\nHe that takes the right-hand road shall not leave it again, if he be a\ngood man and a worthy knight. He that takes the left-hand shall not\nlightly win fortune, for his strength and endurance will be soon tried.\"\n\"If you will suffer me to take the left-hand road I should like it\ngreatly,\" said Melias. \"My strength and skill need trial.\"\n\"It were better not. I fancy that I only should face the danger that\nthere confronts us.\"\n\"Nay, my lord, I pray you let me have this adventure.\"\n\"Take it, then, in God's name,\" said Galahad; \"and do your duty\nworthily.\"\nSo Melias rode forward and soon found himself in a forest, through which\nhe passed for two days, seeing there neither man, woman, nor child. Then\nhe came from the forest into a broad meadow, where stood a lodge built\nof green boughs. And in that lodge was a chair, on which lay a crown of\ngold wrought with rich and subtle skill. Also there were cloths spread\nupon the earth, upon which delicious meats were laid.\nMelias beheld all this and thought it marvellous. He felt no hunger, but\nthe crown of gold roused his covetousness, and he took it up and rode\naway with it. But not far had he ridden when a knight came after him,\nwho said,--\n\"Sir knight, why have you taken that crown? It is not yours; therefore\ndefend yourself.\"\nThen Melias blessed himself, and said,--\n\"Fair Lord of Heaven, help and save thy new made knight.\"\nThen they rode together at full speed, but Melias's prayer availed him\nnaught, for the spear-head of the other went through his hauberk, and\nwounded him so deeply in the left side that he fell to the earth like a\ndead man. Then the victor knight took the crown and rode away.\nBut with wise forethought Galahad had followed Melias, and now rode into\nthe valley, where he found him in peril of death.\n\"Ah, Melias!\" he cried, \"better for you had you taken the other way. Who\nhas done you this harm?\"\n\"For God's love, let me not die in this place!\" said Melias in reply.\n\"Bear me to some abbey near by, where I may be confessed and have the\nrites of the church.\"\n\"It shall be done,\" said Galahad. \"But where is he who has wounded you?\"\nThe reply came from the edge of the forest, where Galahad heard a voice\ncry in stirring tones,--\n\"Knight, defend yourself from me.\"\n\"Beware, sir,\" warned Melias. \"He it is that has left me thus.\"\n\"Sir knight,\" said Galahad, \"come on at your peril.\"\nThen they rode together as fast as their horses could run, and Galahad\ndrove his spear through the shoulder of his opponent, hurling him from\nhis horse. But in his fall the spear broke. Then, before the young\nknight could turn, another knight rode from under the leaves and broke\nhis spear upon him.\nAt this treacherous act Galahad drew his sword in wrath, and with a keen\nblow smote off the left arm of his antagonist, whom he pursued into the\nforest.\nHe soon returned, however, and took up Melias gently, for the truncheon\nof the spear was in his body, and bore him on his horse in his arms to\nan abbey near at hand. Here the wounded knight was unarmed and laid upon\na bed, where the rites of the church were administered to him.\n\"Sir Galahad,\" he then said, \"let death come when it will, I am at peace\nwith God.\" And he drew the truncheon of the spear from his body, and\nswooned away.\nBut an old monk who stood there, and who was a skilful leech, examined\nthe wound, and said, \"He need not die. By the grace of God I hope to\nheal him of this wound within seven weeks.\"\nThis gladdened Galahad, and he remained at the abbey three days to see\nhow Melias should fare. Then he asked him how it stood with him.\n\"I feel now as if I may live,\" he answered.\n\"God be thanked for that,\" said Galahad. \"Now must I depart, for I have\nmuch to do, and the quest of the Sangreal will not permit long leisure\nand delay.\"\n\"Sir,\" said the monk, \"it is for his sin this knight is so bitterly\nwounded. He took on him the high order of knighthood without clean\nconfession, which was a sinful thing to do. As for the two ways to which\nyou came, the way on the right betokens the highway of righteousness,\nand the way on the left, which he chose, betokens that of sinners and\ninfidels. And when the devil saw his presumption in taking the quest of\nthe Sangreal without being worthy of it, he caused his overthrow. And\nwhen he took the crown of gold he sinned in covetousness and theft. As\nfor you, Sir Galahad, the two knights with whom you fought signify the\ntwo deadly sins which abide in Sir Melias. But they could not withstand\nyou, for you are without deadly sin.\"\n\"God send I may keep so,\" said Galahad. \"Now must I depart. I pray you\ndo your utmost for this knight.\"\n\"My Lord Galahad,\" said Melias, \"I shall get well, and shall seek you as\nsoon as I can ride.\"\n\"God grant you speedy health,\" said Galahad, and he left the room and\nsought his horse, and rode away alone.\nAfter he had ridden for days in various directions, it chanced that he\ndeparted from a place called Abblasoure, where he had heard no mass, as\nwas his daily custom. But ere the day was old, he came to a mountain, on\nwhich he found a ruined chapel, and here he kneeled before the altar,\nand besought God's counsel. And as he prayed he heard a voice that said,\n\"Go now, thou adventurous knight, to the Castle of Maidens, and do away\nwith the wicked customs which there are kept.\"\nWhen Galahad heard this he took his horse and rode away, full of\ngladness that he might thus serve God. And not long nor far had he\nridden before he saw in a valley before him a strong castle, with high\ntowers and battlements and deep ditches; and beside it ran a broad\nriver, named the Severn.\nHere he met an aged man, whom he saluted, and asked the castle's name.\n\"It is the Castle of Maidens,\" said the old man.\n\"Then it is a cursed castle, and an abode of sin,\" said Galahad. \"All\npity is wanting within those walls, and evil and hardness of heart there\nhave their abode.\"\n\"Then, sir knight, you would do well to turn and leave it.\"\n\"That shall I not,\" said Galahad. \"I have come here to punish the\nevil-doers that there abide.\"\nLeaving the old man, he rode forward, and soon met with seven fair\nmaidens, who said to him,--\n\"Sir knight, you ride in folly, for you have the water to pass.\"\n\"And why should I not pass the water?\" asked Galahad.\nHe continued his ride, and next met a squire, who said,--\n\"Sir knight, I bring you defiance from the knights in the castle, who\nforbid you to go farther till they learn your purpose.\"\n\"You may tell it to them, if you will. I come to destroy the wicked\ncustoms of this castle.\"\n\"Sir, if you abide by that, you will have enough to do.\"\n\"Go now and bear them my answer.\"\nThen the squire returned to the castle, from which there soon after rode\nseven knights, in full armor. When they saw Galahad they cried,--\n\"Knight, be on your guard, for you have come to your death.\"\n\"What!\" asked Galahad, \"will you all assail me at once?\"\n\"That shall we; so defend yourself.\"\nThen Galahad rode against them and smote the foremost such a blow that\nhe nearly broke his neck. The others rode on him together, each\nstriking his shield with might. But their spears broke and he still held\nhis seat.\nHe now drew his sword, and set upon them with such energy that, many as\nthey were, he put them all to flight, chasing them until they entered\nthe castle, and following them within its walls till they fled from the\ncastle by another gate.\nGalahad was now met by an old man, clad in religious costume, who said\nto him,--\n\"Sir, here are the keys of the castle.\"\nThen the victor ordered that all the gates should be thrown open, and in\nthe streets of the neighboring town were crowds of people, crying\ngladly,--\n\"Sir knight, you are heartily welcome. Long have we waited for the\ndeliverance which you bring us.\"\nAnd a gentlewoman came, who said to him,--\n\"These knights are fled, but they will come again. Therefore, sir, I\ncounsel you to send for all the knights that hold their lands of this\ncastle, and make them swear to restore the old customs, and do away with\nthe evil practices which these villanous knights have fostered.\"\n\"That is good counsel,\" said Galahad.\nThen she brought him a horn of ivory, richly adorned with gold, and\nsaid,--\n\"Blow this horn loudly. It will be heard two miles and more from the\ncastle, and all that hear it will come.\"\n[Illustration: Copyright 1901 by E. A. Abbey; from a Copely print\ncopyright 1902 by Curtis and Cameron.\nSIR GALAHAD FIGHTING THE SEVEN SINS.]\nGalahad took the horn, and blew so loud a blast that the very trees\nshook therewith. Then he seated himself and waited to see what would\ncome from the summons. As he sat there a priest came to him and said,--\n\"Sir knight, for seven years these brethren have held the castle, whose\nlord, Duke Lianor, they killed, and held his daughter prisoner; and by\nforce they have kept all the knights of the castle under their power,\nand have acted as tyrants, robbing the common people of all they had,\nand taking tribute and demanding service from all the country round.\nSeven years ago the duke's daughter said to them, 'You shall not hold\nthis castle for many years, for by one knight you shall be overcome.'\n'Say you so,' they replied. 'Then shall never knight or lady pass this\ncastle, but all that come shall stay or lose their heads, till comes\nthat knight of whom you prophesy.' Therefore this is called the Maidens'\nCastle, since its tyrants have so long made war upon maidens.\"\n\"Is the duke's daughter still here?\"\n\"No; she died three days after the castle was taken. But her younger\nsister and many other ladies are held prisoners.\"\nSoon afterwards the knights of the country began to flock in, in\nresponse to the bugle-call, and glad were they to find what had\noccurred. Galahad made them do homage and fealty to the duke's daughter,\nwhich they did with great willingness of heart.\nAnd when the next day dawned great news was brought in, for a messenger\ncame to Galahad and told him that the seven felon brothers had been met\nby Gawaine, Gareth, and Uwaine, and all slain.\n\"So ends their rule and power,\" said Galahad, fervently. \"It is well\ndone, and well are all here delivered.\"\nThen he commended them to God, and took his armor and horse, and rode\naway amid the prayers of those he had delivered.\nCHAPTER IV.\nTHE TEMPTATION OF SIR PERCIVALE.\nMany adventures had the other knights that set out in search of the\nSangreal, and much reproof did many of them receive for the evil lives\nthey had led; but all this we cannot stop to tell, but must confine\nourselves to the deeds of a few only. As for Sir Gawaine, he parted from\nGareth and Uwaine after they had slain the seven wicked knights of the\nCastle of Maidens, and rode from Whitsuntide to Michaelmas without an\nadventure. Then came a day in which he met Sir Hector de Maris, and glad\nwere both at the meeting.\n\"Truly,\" said Gawaine, \"I am growing weary of this quest.\"\n\"And I as well,\" said Hector. \"And of the twenty knights I have met from\ntime to time, they all complain as we do.\"\n\"Have you met with Lancelot?\"\n\"No, nor with Percivale, Bors, or Galahad. I can learn nothing of these\nfour.\"\n\"They are well able to take care of themselves,\" said Gawaine. \"And if\nthey fail to find the Sangreal, it is waste of time for the rest of us\nto seek it, for outside of them there is little virtue in the Round\nTable fellowship.\"\nAfterwards these two knights went far in company, and had strange dreams\nand visions, the meaning of which was expounded to them by the hermit\nNancien. This holy man also reproved Gawaine severely for his evil life,\nand bade both him and his companion to give up the search for the\nSangreal, as that high achievement was not for hands like theirs.\nSoon after they met an armed knight in the road, who proffered to joust\nwith them. Gawaine accepted the challenge, and rode against this unknown\nopponent, dealing him so severe a blow that he was hurled from his horse\nwith a mortal wound. But when they had removed his helmet, what was\ntheir horror to find that it was their friend and comrade, Uwaine.\n\"Alas!\" cried Gawaine, \"that such a fatal misadventure should have\nbefallen me! I would sooner have died myself.\"\n\"Thus ends my quest of the Sangreal,\" said Uwaine. \"And thus will end\nthat of many a noble knight. Dear friends, commend me to King Arthur,\nand to my fellows of the Round Table, and sometimes think of me for old\nbrotherhood's sake.\"\nAnd he died in their arms, leaving them plunged in the deepest grief,\nfrom which they were long in recovering.\nMeanwhile Lancelot and Percivale rode far in company, and many things\nhappened to them. While journeying through a strange region they met an\nunknown knight, whom they challenged to joust. But the event turned out\nlittle to their satisfaction, for Lancelot was hurled to the ground,\nhorse and man, and Percivale received so fierce a sword-blow that he\nwould have been slain had not the sword swerved.\nThen the victor knight rode rapidly away, leaving them to recover as\nthey best could. But a recluse near whose hut this encounter had taken\nplace told them that the victor was Sir Galahad. On learning this they\npursued him at all speed, but in vain.\nPercivale now turned back to question the recluse further, but Lancelot\nkept on, passing through waste and forest till he came to a stone cross\nat the parting of two ways.\nNear by was a ruined chapel, with broken door, and other signs of waste\nand decay, if it had been long deserted. But when he looked within he\nsaw to his great surprise a high altar richly dressed with cloth of\nwhite silk, on which stood a lofty candelabra of silver which bore six\ngreat candles, all lighted.\nLancelot sought to enter the chapel, but try as he would he could not\npass the broken door, nor find entrance elsewhere. Some invisible power\nseemed to stand between him and admission to that sacred place.\nThen, out of heart at this ill success, he took off his helm and sword,\nrelieved his horse of saddle and bridle, and lay down to sleep before\nthe cross. Night came upon him as he lay there, and with the night came\nstrange visions.\nFor as he lay but half asleep he saw a sick knight brought thither in a\nlitter. This knight prayed earnestly for aid in his affliction, and as\nhe did so Lancelot saw the silver candlestick come from the chapel to\nthe cross, and after it a table of silver on which was the holy grail.\nThe sick knight crawled painfully to it on his hands and knees, and\nraised himself so as to touch and kiss the sacred vessel. No sooner had\nhe done so than he grew whole and sound, with all his pain and sickness\ngone, and rose to his feet with his former strength and vigor.\n\"Lord, I thank thee deeply,\" he said; \"for through thy infinite grace I\nam healed of my affliction.\"\nThen the holy vessel returned to the chapel, and Lancelot strove hard to\nrise and follow it. But his limbs were powerless, and he lay like one\nchained to the ground.\nHe now fell into deep slumber, and waked not till near morning. And as\nhe raised himself and sat on the ground he heard a voice in the air,\nthat seemed to come from no earthly lips.\n\"Sir Lancelot,\" it said, \"more hard than is the stone, more bitter than\nthe wood, more bare than the barren fig-tree, arise and go from hence,\nand withdraw thyself from this holy place.\"\nLancelot arose with a heavy heart, for the sense of these words sank\ndeeply within him. But when he sought his horse and helm and sword he\nfound they were gone, for they had been taken by the knight whose\nhealing he had seen.\nDeeply depressed and unhappy at this misfortune, he left the cross on\nfoot, and wandered onward till he came to a hermitage on a high hill.\nHere he told the hermit what had happened to him, and confessed all the\nevil deeds of his life, saying that he had resolved to be a different\nman from what he had been, and to live a higher life than that of doing\ndeeds of arms that men might applaud.\nThen the holy man gave him absolution, with injunctions of penance, and\nprayed that he would abide with him all that day. This Lancelot did,\ntalking much with him upon his sins, and repenting sincerely the worldly\nlife he had led.\nMeanwhile Percivale had returned to the recluse, and questioned her as\nto how he should find Galahad.\n\"That I cannot surely tell,\" she said. \"Ride hence to a castle which is\ncalled Goothe, where he has a cousin-german. If he can give you no\ntidings, then ride straight to the castle Carbonek, where the maimed\nking lies, and there you shall hear sure tidings of him.\"\nPercivale, leaving her, rode onward till eventide, and as he looked\naround him for shelter he heard a clock strike loud and clear. He now\nperceived before him a mansion, with lofty walls and deep ditches. Here\nhe knocked loudly, and was let in without delay.\nAfter laying off his armor, he was led to the supper hall, where he was\nwell served, and afterwards spent the night in comfort. When morning\ndawned he entered the chapel for the mass, and found there a priest\nready at the altar. On the right side was a pew closed with iron, and\nbehind the altar a rich bed, covered with cloth of silk and gold. On\nthis bed lay a person with covered visage, so that he could not tell if\nit were man or woman.\nAfter the service was over the occupant of the bed sat up and threw back\nthe covering, and then Percivale saw that it was a man of very great\nage, on whose head was a crown of gold. But his shoulders and body to\nthe middle were unclad, and were covered with wounds, as were also his\narms and face.\nTo all seeming he might have been three hundred years of age, for so\nvenerable a face Percivale had never gazed upon, and as he sat up he\nprayed fervently, with joined hands. When the mass was over the priest\nbore the sacrament to the sick king. And when he had used it, he took\noff his crown and commanded it to be set on the altar. Then he lay down\nagain.\nPercivale now asked one of the attendants who this venerable man was.\n\"You have heard of Joseph of Arimathea,\" was the reply, \"and how he came\ninto this land to convert the heathen. With him came a king named\nEvelake, whom he had converted in the city of Sarras, in Palestine. This\nking afterwards had an earnest desire to be where the Sangreal was, and\non one occasion he ventured so nigh it that God was displeased with him,\nand struck him almost blind. Then King Evelake prayed for mercy and\npardon, and begged that he might not die until he who was to achieve the\nSangreal should come, that he might see him and kiss him. There\nanswered him a voice that said: 'Thy prayers are heard; thou shalt not\ndie till he has kissed thee. And when he comes thy eyes shall be opened\nto see clearly, and thy wounds shall be healed; but not until then.' So\nKing Evelake has lived in this mansion for three hundred winters,\nwaiting for the coming of the knight who shall heal him. Now, sir, will\nyou tell me what knight you are, and if you are of the Round Table\nfellowship?\"\n\"That am I, and my name is Percivale de Galis.\"\nOn hearing this the good man welcomed Percivale warmly, and pressed him\nto remain. But the knight replied that he could not, for his duty led\nhim onward.\nPercivale now left the chapel, and, arming himself, he took his horse\nand rode onward. And that day more strange things happened to him than\nwe have space to tell. Not far had he ridden when he met twenty\nmen-at-arms, who bore on a bier a dead knight. On learning that he was\nfrom King Arthur's court, they assailed him fiercely, killed his horse,\nand would have slain him; but when he was at the worst strait a knight\nin red armor came hastily to his rescue, and rode fiercely on the\nassailants.\nHe attacked these, indeed, with such fury that many of them were soon\nstretched on the ground; while the others fled into a thick forest,\nwhither they were hotly pursued by their assailant.\nOn seeing him thus ride away, Percivale was deeply grieved, for he well\nknew his rescuer was Galahad, and he had no horse to follow him.\nHe went forward as fast as he could on foot, and had not gone far when\nhe met a yeoman riding on a hackney, and leading a great war-horse,\nblacker than any bear.\nPercivale begged that he would lend him this horse, that he might\novertake a knight before him. But this the yeoman refused, saying that\nthe owner of the horse would slay him if he should do so.\nNot long afterwards, as Percivale sat woebegone beneath a tree, an armed\nknight came riding past on the black horse, pursued by the yeoman, who\ncalled him robber, and moaned bitterly that his master would kill him\nfor the loss of his charge.\n\"Lend me your hackney,\" said Percivale; \"I may get you your horse\nagain.\"\nThis the yeoman gladly did, and Percivale pursued the robber knight,\nloudly bidding him to stand and deliver.\nThe knight at this turned and rode fiercely upon him, but directed his\nspear against the horse instead of the rider, striking it in the breast,\nso that it fell to the earth.\nHe now rode away, without heeding Percivale's angry demand that he\nshould stop and fight it out on foot. When the dismounted knight found\nthat his antagonist would not turn, he was so filled with chagrin that\nhe threw away his helm and sword, and raved like one out of his wits.\nThus he continued till night came on, when he lay down exhausted and\nfell into a deep slumber.\nNear the midnight hour he suddenly awakened, and saw in the road before\nhim a woman, who said,--\n\"Sir Percivale, what do you here?\"\n\"I do neither good nor ill,\" he replied.\n\"You need a horse,\" she said. \"If you will promise to do my will when I\nshall summon you, I will lend you mine. You will find him no common\none.\"\n\"I promise that,\" cried Percivale. \"I would do much for a horse just\nnow.\"\n\"Wait, then; I shall fetch you the noblest animal you ever bestrode.\"\nShe departed, but quickly came again, leading a horse of midnight\nblackness, and richly apparelled for knightly service.\nPercivale looked at it with admiration. He had not hoped for so great\nand noble a steed as this. Thanking her warmly, he sprang to his feet,\nleaped to the saddle, and put spurs to the horse, from whose nostrils\nfire seemed to glare.\nAway went the black horse under the moonlight, making such marvellous\nstrides that it seemed to leave the earth behind it in its magical\nprogress. With such wondrous speed did it go that in an hour it had made\na four days' journey. Then it came to the brink of a great body of\nwater, whose waves foamed and leaped boisterously against the shore.\nWhen Percivale saw the heaving waves, which stretched far away under the\nmoonlight, he drew with all his force upon the rein; but the fiendish\nbrute which he rode heeded not his hand, but bore him madly to the\nbrink. Fear and doubt now filled the knight's mind, and with a hasty\nimpulse he made the sign of the cross. At this the beast roared loudly\nin rage, while flame a foot long poured from its nostrils, and with a\nwild rear it shook off its rider, and plunged madly into the wild\nbillows. And the showering drops which fell upon Percivale from the\nplunge burnt like sparks of fire.\n\"God be thanked that I am here alive,\" cried the knight, fervently. \"I\nhave ridden the foul fiend in the image of a horse, and barely have I\nescaped perdition.\"\nThen he commended himself to God, and prayed earnestly to the Lord to\nsave him from all such perils and temptations. He continued in prayer\nall the remainder of that night until the next day dawned upon the\nearth.\nWhen sunrise came he looked needfully about him, anxious to learn\nwhither he had been borne by the unholy brute. To his surprise and alarm\nhe found himself in a wild waste, which was closed in on one side by the\nsea, and on the other by a range of rough and high mountains, impassable\nto human feet; a land that seemed without food or shelter, and the\nlurking-place of wild beasts.\nHe trembled with fear on seeing this, and went forward with doubtful\nsteps. Not far had he gone before he saw a strange thing, for a great\nserpent passed near him, bearing a young lion by the neck. Fiercely\nafter it came a great lion, roaring with rage, and fell upon the\nserpent, which turned in defence, so that a mighty battle was waged\nbefore the knight.\n\"By my faith,\" he cried, \"the lion is the most natural beast of the two,\nand it fights for its young. The lion it is my duty to help.\"\nHe drew his sword with these words and struck the serpent so fierce a\nstroke that it fell dead. Then he turned his shield against the lion,\nbut as the latter made no show of fighting him, but fawned upon him with\nevery mark of joy and gratitude, he cast down his shield and removed his\nhelm, and sat there stroking the neck and shoulders of the beast.\nUntil noon he comforted himself with the fellowship of the lion. Then it\ntook up its whelp and bore it away, leaving Percivale alone. But he was\nnot unhappy, for he believed fervently in God, and prayed with all\nearnestness that he might be saved from unholy things, and chosen as a\nchampion of right and truth.\nWhen night came, Percivale, to his joy, saw the lion coming towards him.\nIt crouched at his feet like a spaniel, and all that night the lion and\nthe knight slept in company, his head being pillowed on the shoulder of\nthe beast.\nBut during the night a strange dream came to him. He seemed to see two\nwomen, one of whom was young, and rode upon a lion, and the other was\nold, and sat upon a gliding serpent. And the younger spoke to him as\nfollows,--\n\"Sir Percivale,\" she said, \"my lord salutes you, and sends a warning to\nyou to make ready, for to-morrow you will have to fight with the\nstrongest champion in the world. And if overcome you will be shamed to\nthe world's end.\"\n\"Who is your lord?\" he asked.\n\"The greatest lord in all the world,\" she said; and then suddenly\nvanished.\nThen came the lady upon the serpent, and said,--\n\"Sir Percivale, I have done you no harm, and yet you have worked me\ninjury.\"\n\"What have I done? I have been always heedful to offend no lady.\"\n\"I have long nourished here a great serpent, and yesterday you killed it\nfor seeking its prey. Why did you this? The lion was not in your care.\"\n\"I aided the lion because it was a nobler beast than the serpent. In\nthat I did nothing against you.\"\n\"You did me a great wrong, and in return for this injury I demand that\nyou become my man.\"\n\"That shall I never be,\" he answered.\n\"Beware, then, proud knight, who pride yourself on your piety. You have\nrobbed me of that which I loved; take heed that I catch you not\nunawares, or mine you shall be, body and soul.\"\nWith these words she departed, and Percivale finished his sleep without\nfurther vision. In the morning, when he awoke, he felt feeble. And as he\nrose and blessed himself he saw not far off in the sea a ship that\nsailed towards him. As it came near he perceived it to be covered within\nand without with white samite, while on the deck stood an old man\ndressed in a surplice like a priest.\n\"Sir,\" said Percivale, \"you are welcome.\"\n\"God keep you,\" said the old man; \"whence come you?\"\n\"I am of King Arthur's court, and a Knight of the Round Table, and am in\nquest of the Sangreal. But here I find myself in a wilderness, with no\nhope of escape.\"\n\"Doubt not, if you be a true knight.\"\n\"Who are you?\" asked Percivale.\n\"I have come hither from a strange country to comfort you,\" said the old\nman.\n\"Then, sir, can you tell me what my dream signifies?\" and Percivale\nrelated what had befallen him.\n\"That can I,\" said the old man. \"She that rode on the lion betokens the\nnew law of holy church, and she came through love, to warn you of the\ngreat battle that is before you.\"\n\"With whom shall I fight?\" asked Percivale.\n\"With the strongest champion of the world, and if you fail in the fight\nyou shall not escape with the loss of a limb, but shall be shamed to the\nworld's end. As for her that rode on the serpent, she betokens the old\nlaw. Heed her not. The serpent you slew betokens the devil that you rode\nhither, and whom you overcame by the sign of the cross. Yield not to her\nor any of her kindred, or worse will befall you.\"\nThen the ship turned and sailed away, leaving Percivale again alone. But\nwhen he went up the rocks he found there the lion, which he stroked and\nmade joyful fellowship with.\nAnd thus time went on till midday. Then Percivale saw a ship approaching\nwith such speed as if all the winds in the world had driven it. On it\nkept till it reached land at the beach below him. He hurried hopefully\nto meet it, and saw that it was covered with black silk, while on the\ndeck stood a lady of great beauty, who was dressed in the richest\napparel.\n\"What brought you into this wilderness?\" she cried to the knight. \"Here\nyou are likely to die of hunger, for no man may cross yonder rocks and\nescape.\"\n\"I serve the best master in the world,\" said Percivale. \"He will not\nsuffer harm to come to me.\"\n\"Sir Percivale,\" said she, \"know you who I am?\"\n\"Who taught you my name?\" he answered.\n\"I know you better than you deem,\" she replied, laughing. \"This much I\nmay tell you, that not long since I was in the waste forest, where I saw\nthe red knight with the white shield.\"\n\"Ah! is that so? Fain would I meet with him.\"\n\"I shall bring you to him; but only on covenant that you will come to my\naid when I summon you.\"\n\"If it be in reason and uprightness, you may trust me,\" he replied.\n\"I saw him,\" she continued, \"chase two knights into the stream that is\ncalled Mortaise, and follow them into the water. But they passed over,\nand his horse was drowned, and only by his great strength he got safe to\nland again.\"\n\"That I am very glad to hear. It would have been a sad day had that good\nknight been drowned.\"\n\"You look pale and thin,\" she remarked. \"Have you eaten lately?\"\n\"Not these three days,\" he answered. \"Yet I spoke of late with a good\nman, whose words refreshed me as if I had partaken of rich viands.\"\n\"Ah, sir knight,\" she said, \"beware of that old man. I know him better\nthan you. He is a false enchanter, who seeks your harm. If you heed his\nwords shame will be your lot, and you will die on this rock and be\ndevoured by wild beasts. I am here to help you in your need, for I am\nnot content to see so good a knight come to harm and disgrace.\"\n\"Who are you,\" asked Percivale, \"that proffer me so great a kindness?\"\n\"Once I was the richest woman in the world,\" she answered. \"Now I am\ndisinherited and in want.\"\n\"Then I pity you greatly. Who is it that has disinherited you?\"\n\"I dwelt with the greatest man in the world,\" she answered, \"and to him\nI owe my beauty,--a beauty of which I was, alas! too proud. Then I said\nthat which offended him deeply, and he drove me away from him, and\nrobbed me of my heritage, and has never since had pity for me nor for my\nfriends. Since this has happened I have done my best to wean his men\nfrom him, and many of them now cling to me, and I and they war against\nhim day and night. I know no good knight, nor good man, but that I\nstrive to win him to my side, and all such I repay well for their\nservices. For he against whom I wage war is strong, and I need all the\naid to be had. Therefore, since I know you for a valiant knight, I\nbeseech you to help me. A fellow of the Round Table cannot, under his\nvow, fail any woman that is disinherited, and that seeks his aid.\"\n\"That is true, indeed,\" said Percivale, \"and I shall do all I can for\nyou.\"\n\"You have my earnest thanks,\" she said.\nThen, as the weather was hot, she called some of her attendants, and\nbade them bring a pavilion and set it up on the gravel near the\nsea-line.\n\"Sir knight,\" she said, \"I pray you to rest here in the heat of the day,\nwhile my attendants prepare food for you.\"\nHe thanked her and laid aside his helm and shield, and fell asleep\nwithin the pavilion, where he slumbered long. When he awoke he asked her\nif the food was ready.\n\"Yes,\" she answered; \"I have worked while you slumbered.\"\nThen a table was set within the pavilion, and covered with a rich array\nof meats and drinks, of which Percivale ate with great appetite, while\nthe lady sat opposite him with a very gracious aspect. The wine he drank\nwas the strongest that had ever passed his lips, and its strength soon\ngot into his veins and heated his brain.\nThe lady now smiled graciously upon him, and it seemed to him that he\nhad never beheld so fair a creature. Her beauty so worked upon his\nheated blood, indeed, that he proffered her his love, and prayed\nearnestly for hers in return.\nWhen she saw his loving ardor, and that the wine worked like fire in his\nblood, she said, with a smile of witchery,--\n\"Sir Percivale, if I become yours, you must become mine. I shall not\ngrant you my love unless you swear that henceforth you will be my true\nservant, and do nothing but what I shall command. Will you thus bind\nyourself, as you are a true knight?\"\n\"That will I, fair lady, by the faith of my body.\"\n\"Then this I will say, that of all the knights in the world you are he\nwhom I most love. And you may seal upon my lips the compact we have\nmade.\"\nBut when Percivale came towards her, to claim the proffered kiss, which\nshe offered with such bewitching grace, by chance or through God's aid\nhe saw his sword, which lay on the ground at his feet, and in its pommel\na red cross, with the sign of the crucifix therein. Then came to his\nmind the promise he had made to the old man, and his knightly vows, and\nwith a pious impulse he raised his hand and made the sign of the cross\non his forehead, the while his eyes were fixed on the lovely face of the\ntempter before him.\nAs he did so her smile changed to a look of deadly hate, and the\nloveliness of her face to a hideous aspect, while in the same moment the\npavilion fell as before a great wind, and then vanished in smoke and\ncloud.\nOver the sea the wind rose and roared, and as he looked he saw the ship\nbattling with heaving waves, while the water seemed to burn behind it.\nOn the deck stood the lady, who cried,--\n\"Sir Percivale, you have betrayed me! Beware, proud knight, I shall have\nmy revenge.\" Then the ship drove out to sea, and vanished from his\nsight.\nBut in a passion of remorse Percivale snatched up the sword that lay\nbefore him, and crying, \"Since my flesh has been my master I will punish\nit,\" he drove the naked blade through his thigh, till the blood spouted\nout like a fountain.\n\"Wretch that I am, how nearly was I lost!\" he cried, in a torment of\nconscience. \"Fair sweet Father, Jesus Christ my Lord, let me not be\nshamed, as I would now have been but for thy good grace. Take this wound\nin recompense for what I have done against thee, and forgive me my deep\ntransgression, I humbly pray thee.\"\nBut as he lay moaning and bleeding the wild winds went down and the sea\ngrew smooth, while he saw coming from the Orient the ship with the good\nman, on board, on beholding whom he fell into a swoon.\nWhen he awoke he found that his wound had been dressed and the bleeding\nstopped. Beside him sat the good man, who asked him,--\n\"How hast thou done since I departed?\"\n\"Weakly and wickedly enough,\" he answered. \"A witch beguiled me, and I\nnearly fell a victim to her wiles.\"\n\"Knew you her not?\"\n\"Only that I deem the foul fiend sent her here to shame me.\"\n\"Worse than that, good knight. Your victory is greater than you deem.\nThat seeming woman who deceived you was no less an adversary than the\nmaster-fiend of hell, who has power over all the lesser devils, and, had\nyou yielded you had been lost forever. For this is the mighty champion\nagainst whom you were forwarned; he who was once the brightest angel of\nheaven, and was driven out by our Lord Christ for his sins, and thus\nlost his heritage. But that the grace of God was on your side you would\nhave fallen before this champion of evil. Take this, Sir Percivale, as a\nwarning and an example.\"\nWith these words the good man vanished away. Then the mariners carried\nthe wounded knight on board their ship, and set sail, bearing him\nrapidly away from that scene of temptation and victory.\nCHAPTER V.\nTHE STRANGE ADVENTURES OF SIR BORS.\nWhen Sir Bors parted from his companions, on the quest of the Sangreal,\nnot far had he gone when he met a religious man riding on an ass, whom\nhe courteously saluted.\n\"Who are you?\" asked the good man.\n\"I am one of those knights who have set out in quest of the Sangreal,\"\nsaid Bors. \"I would fain have your counsel in this high duty, for great\nhonor shall come to him who succeeds therein.\"\n\"That is true,\" said the good man. \"He that wins the Sangreal will be\ncounted the best knight and the purest soul among men. None can hope to\nattain it except through cleanness of spirit.\"\nThen they rode together till they came to a hermitage. Here Bors went\ninto the chapel with his companion, and confessed to him, and ate bread\nand drank water with him.\n\"Now,\" said the good man, \"I charge you that you take no other food than\nbread and water till you sit at the table where the Sangreal shall be.\"\n\"To that I agree. But how know you that I shall ever sit there?\"\n\"I know it, let that suffice; but few of your comrades shall have that\nhonor.\"\n\"All that God sends me will be welcome,\" said Bors.\n\"Also, instead of a shirt, and in token of chastisement, you shall wear\nthis garment,\" and the good man produced a scarlet coat, which Bors\npromised to wear next his skin till the Sangreal should be won.\nThen, after further wholesome advice, he resumed his armor and departed.\nHe had gone but a little way from the hermitage when he passed a tree\nthat was little more than an old and leafless trunk, and on one of its\nboughs he saw a great bird, surrounded by young that were nearly dead\nwith hunger. As, he continued to look at this strange sight, the bird\nsmote itself in the breast with its sharp beak, and bled till it died\namong its young. Then the young birds fed on their mother's blood, and\nwere revived thereby.\nThis to Bors seemed full of deep significance, and he pondered deeply\nupon it as he rode onward. By even-song he found himself near a strong\nand high tower, where he asked shelter for the night, and was hospitably\nwelcomed.\nWhen he had disarmed he was led to a richly furnished apartment, where\nhe found a young and fair lady, who welcomed him gladly to her tower,\nand invited him to take supper with her.\nThe table was set with rich meats and many dainties, but Bors forgot not\nthe hermit's charge, and bade an attendant to bring him water. In this\nhe sopped bread and ate it.\n\"How is this?\" asked the lady in surprise. \"Like you not my meat?\"\n\"Truly I do, madam; yet I may eat no other food this day.\"\nThen the lady was silent, for she feared to displease him by\nquestioning. After supper, while they sat talking, a squire came, who\nsaid,--\n\"Madam, you know well what is set for to-morrow. You must provide a\nchampion to fight in your quarrel against Pridam le Noire, or your\nsister will have this castle and all your lands.\"\n\"I know that,\" she said, with a deep sigh. \"May God save me from being\nrobbed, for I see no earthly aid.\"\nHer sorrow touched Bors, who asked,--\n\"What means this, madam?\"\n\"Sir,\" she said, \"I shall tell you. There was formerly a king named\nAniause, who owned all these lands. By chance he loved my sister, who is\nmuch older than I,--and much wickeder also, I fear. He gave her this\nland to govern; but she brought into it many evil customs, and caused\nthe death of many of his kinsmen. When the king saw how vilely she\ngoverned, he drove her away, and put me over this district. But he is\nnow dead, and she is making war on me, and has destroyed many of my\nmen, and turned others from me, so that I have little left but this\ntower, and the few men that guard it. Even this she now threatens to\ntake from me, unless I can find a knight to fight her champion, who will\nappear before my gates to-morrow.\"\n\"Is it so?\" said Bors. \"Who is this Pridam le Noire?\"\n\"He is the most stalwart knight in this country, and has no equal among\nus.\"\n\"Madam,\" said Bors, \"you have given me shelter; in return I shall aid\nyou as far as I can in your trouble. You may send word that you have\nfound a knight who will fight with this Pridam the Black, in God's\nquarrel and yours.\"\n\"Then may God's blessing rest upon you,\" she cried, gladly. And word was\nsent out that she had found a champion who would take on himself her\nquarrel.\nThat evening she did what lay in her power to make Bors welcome, and\nsent him at bedtime to a chamber whose bed was soft as down, and spread\nwith silken coverings.\nBut in no bed would he rest, but laid himself on the floor, as he had\nvowed to do till he found the Sangreal.\nAs he lay there asleep there came to him a vision. He seemed to see two\nbirds, one white as a swan, the other of smaller size, and shaped like a\nraven, with plumage of inky blackness. The white bird came to him and\nsaid, \"If thou wilt give me meat and serve me, I shall give thee all the\nriches of the world, and make thee as fair and white as I am.\" Then the\nwhite bird departed, and the black bird came and said, \"I beg that you\nwill serve me to-morrow, and hold me in no despite; for this I tell you,\nthat my blackness will avail you more than the other's whiteness.\" And\nthis bird, too, departed.\nBut his dream continued, and he seemed to come to a great place, that\nlooked like a chapel. Here he saw on the left side a chair, which was\nworm-eaten and feeble. And on the right hand were two flowers of the\nshape of a lily, and one would have taken the whiteness from the other\nbut that a good man separated them, and would not let them touch. And\nout of each came many flowers and plentiful fruit. Then the good man\nsaid, \"Would not he act with great folly that should let these two\nflowers perish to succor the rotten tree, and keep it from falling?\"\n\"Sir,\" said the dreamer, \"it seems to me that the flower is of more\nvalue than the wood.\" \"Then take heed that you never choose the false\nfor the true.\"\nWith this Bors awoke, and made the sign of the cross on his forehead,\nand then rose and dressed. When he had come to the lady she saluted him,\nand led him to a chapel, where they heard the morning service. Quickly\nafterwards there came a company of knights that the lady had sent for,\nto lead her champion to battle. After he had armed, she begged him to\ntake some strengthening food.\n\"Nay, madam,\" he answered, \"that I shall not do till I have fought this\nbattle, in which I ask but God's grace to aid me.\"\nThis said, he sprang upon his horse, and set out with the knights and\nmen, closely followed by the lady and her train. They soon came to where\nthe other party were encamped, and with them the lady of their choice.\n\"Madam,\" said the lady of the tower, \"you have done me great wrong to\ntake from me the lands which King Aniause gave me. And I am sorry that\nthere should be any battle.\"\n\"You shall not choose,\" said the other, \"unless you withdraw your knight\nand yield the tower.\"\n\"That I shall not do. You have robbed me enough already.\"\nThen was the trumpet sounded, and proclamation was made that whichever\nchampion won the battle, the lady for whom he fought should enjoy all\nthe land. This done, the two champions drew aside, and faced each other\ngrimly in their armor of proof.\nBut when the sound for the onset was blown they put spurs to their\nsteeds, which rushed together like two lions, and the knights struck\neach other with such force that their spears flew to pieces and both\nfell to the earth.\nThey quickly rose and drew their swords, and hewed at each other like\ntwo woodmen, so that soon each was sorely wounded and bleeding\nprofusely. Bors quickly found that he had a sturdier antagonist than he\nexpected, for Pridam was a strong and hardy fighter, who stood up\nlustily to his work, and gave his opponent many a sturdy blow.\nBors, perceiving this, took a new course, and played with his antagonist\ntill he saw that he was growing weary with his hard work. Then he\nadvanced upon him fiercely, and drove him step by step backward, till\nin the end Pridam fell. Bors now leaped upon him and pulled so strongly\nupon his helm as to rend it from his head. Then he struck him with the\nflat of his sword upon the cheek, and bade him yield, or he would kill\nhim.\n\"For God's love, slay me not!\" cried the knight. \"I yield me to thy\nmercy. I shall swear never to war against thy lady, but be henceforth\nher friend and protector.\"\nWith this assurance, Bors let him live; while the covetous old lady fled\nin fear, followed by all her knights. The victorious champion now called\nto him all those who held lands in that estate, and threatened to\ndestroy them unless they would do the lady such service as belonged to\ntheir holdings. This they swore to do, and there and then paid homage to\nthe lady, who thus came to her own again through the mighty prowess of\nSir Bors de Ganis.\nNot until the country was well in peace did he take his leave, refusing\nthe offers of wealth which the grateful lady pressed upon him, and\nreceiving her warm thanks with a humility that well became him.\nHardly would she let him go; but at length he bade her farewell, and\nrode away from her tears and thanks. On he journeyed for all that day,\nand till midday of the next, when he found himself in a forest, where a\nstrange adventure befell him.\nFor at the parting of two ways he met two knights who had taken prisoner\nhis brother Lionel, whom they had bound all naked upon a hackney, while\nthey beat him with thorns till the blood flowed from every part of his\nbody. Yet so great of heart was he that no word came from his lips, and\nhe made no sign of pain.\nBors, seeing this, was on the point of rushing to his rescue, when he\nbeheld on the other side a knight who held as prisoner a fair lady, whom\nhe was taking into the thickest part of the forest to hide her from\nthose who sought her. And as they went she cried in a lamentable\nvoice,--\n\"Saint Mary, rescue me! Holy mother, succor your maid!\"\nWhen she saw Bors she cried out to him grievously for aid and rescue.\n\"By the faith you owe to the high order of knighthood, and for the noble\nKing Arthur's sake, who I suppose made you knight, help me, gracious\nsir, and suffer me not to come to shame through this felon knight!\"\nOn hearing this appeal the distracted knight knew not what to do. On one\nside his brother in danger of his life; on the other a maiden in peril\nof her honor.\n\"If I rescue not my brother he will be slain; and that I would not have\nfor the earth. Yet if I help not the maiden, I am recreant to my vows of\nknighthood, and to my duty to the high order of chivalry.\"\nTears ran from his eyes as he stood in cruel perplexity. Then, with a\nknightly resolution, he cried,--\n\"Fair sweet Lord Jesus, whose liegeman I am, keep Lionel my brother\nthat these knights slay him not; since for your service, and for Mary's\nsake, I must succor this maid.\"\nThen he turned to the knight who had the damsel, and loudly cried,--\n\"Sir knight, take your hands from that maiden and set her free, or you\nare a dead man.\"\nOn hearing this the knight released the maiden as bidden, but drew his\nsword, as he had no spear, and rode fiercely at the rescuer. Bors met\nhim with couched spear, and struck him so hard a blow as to pierce his\nshield and his hauberk on the left shoulder, beating him down to the\nearth. On pulling out the spear the wounded knight swooned.\n\"You are delivered from this felon. Can I help you further?\" said Bors\nto the maiden.\n\"I beg you to take me to the place whence he carried me away.\"\n\"That shall I do as my duty.\"\nThen he seated her on the knight's horse, and conducted her back towards\nher home.\n\"You have done nobly, sir knight,\" she said. \"If you had not rescued me,\nfive hundred men might have died for this. The knight you wounded is my\ncousin, who yesterday stole me away from my father's house, no one\nmistrusting him. But if you had not overcome him, there would soon have\nbeen others on his track.\"\nEven as she spoke there came a troop of twelve knights riding briskly\nforward in search of her. When they found her delivered their joy was\ngreat, and they thanked Bors profusely, begging him to accompany them\nto her father, who was a great lord, and would welcome him with\ngladness.\n\"That I cannot do,\" said Bors, \"much as I should like to; for I have\nanother matter of high importance before me. I can but say, then,\nfarewell, and God be with you and this fair maiden.\"\nSo saying, he turned and rode briskly away, followed by their earnest\nthanks. Reaching the point where he had seen Lionel in custody, he took\nthe trail of the horses, and followed them far by their hoof-marks in\nthe road. Then he overtook a religious man, who was mounted on a strong\nhorse, blacker than a berry.\n\"Sir knight,\" he asked, \"what seek you?\"\n\"I seek my brother,\" he replied, \"who came this way beaten by two\nknights.\"\n\"Then seek no further, but be strong of heart, for I have sad tidings\nfor you. Your brother is dead.\"\nHe then led Bors to a clump of bushes, in which lay a newly slain body,\nwhich seemed to be that of Lionel. Seeing this, Bors broke into such\ngrief that he fell to the earth in a swoon, and long lay there. When he\nrecovered he said, sadly,--\n\"Dear brother, I would have rescued you had not a higher duty called me.\nBut since we are thus parted, joy shall never again enter my desolate\nheart. I can now but say, be He whom I have taken for my master my help\nand comfort.\"\nThus grieving, he took up the body in his arms, and put it upon his\nsaddle-bow. Then he said to his companion,--\n\"Can you tell me of some chapel, where I may bury this body?\"\n\"Come with me. There is one near by.\"\n[Illustration: AN OLD AND HALF-RUINED CHAPEL.]\nThey rode forward till they came in sight of a tower, beside which was\nan old and half-ruined chapel. Here they alighted, and placed the corpse\nin a tomb of marble.\n\"We will leave him here,\" said the good man, \"and seek shelter for the\nnight. To-morrow we will return and perform the services for the dead.\"\n\"Are you a priest?\" asked Bors.\n\"Yes,\" he answered.\n\"Then you may be able to interpret a dream that came to me last night.\"\nThereupon he told his dream of the birds, and that of the flowers.\n\"I can interpret the vision of the birds now,\" said the priest. \"The\nrest must wait till later. The white bird is the emblem of a rich and\nfair lady, who loves you deeply, and will die for love if you pity her\nnot. I counsel you, therefore, not to refuse her, for this I shall tell\nyou, that if you return not her love, your cousin Lancelot, the best of\nknights, shall die. Men will call you a man-slayer, both of your brother\nLionel and your cousin Lancelot, since you might have saved them both\neasily if you would. You rescued a maiden who was naught to you, and let\nyour brother perish. Which, think you, was your greater duty?\"\n\"I did what I thought my duty,\" said Bors.\n\"At any rate, bear this in mind, you will be in sad fault if you suffer\nyour cousin Lancelot to die for an idle scruple.\"\n\"I should be sad, indeed,\" said Bors. \"Rather would I die ten times over\nthan see my cousin Lancelot perish through fault of mine.\"\n\"The choice lies in your hand,\" said the priest. \"It is for you to\ndecide.\"\nAs he spoke they came in front of a fair-showing tower and manor-house,\nwhere were knights and ladies, who welcomed Bors warmly. When he was\ndisarmed there was brought him a mantle furred with ermine. Then he was\nled to the company of knights and ladies, who received him so gladly,\nand did so much to make his stay pleasant, that all thoughts of his\nbrother Lionel and of the danger of Lancelot were driven from his mind.\nAs they stood in gay converse there came out of a chamber a lady whom\nBors had not before seen, and whose beauty was such that he felt he had\nnever beheld so lovely a face, while her dress was richer than Queen\nGuenever had ever worn.\n\"Here, Sir Bors,\" said those present, \"is the lady to whom we all owe\nservice. Richer and fairer lady the world holds not, and she loves you\nabove all other knights, and will have no knight but you.\"\nOn hearing this, Bors stood abashed. This, then, he thought, was the\nwhite bird of his dream. Her love he must return or lose Lancelot,--so\nfate had spoken.\nAs he stood deeply thinking, the lady came up and saluted him, taking\nhis hand in hers, and bidding him sit beside her, while her deep eyes\nrested upon him with looks that made his soul tremble. Never had he\ngazed into such eyes before.\nThen she spoke of many things, luring him into pleasant conversation, in\nwhich he forgot his fears, and began to take delight in her presence. At\nthe end she told him how deeply and how long she had loved him, and\nbegged him to return her love, saying that she could make him richer\nthan ever was man of his age.\nThese words brought back all his trouble of soul. How to answer the lady\nhe knew not, for his vow of chastity was too deep to be lightly broken.\n\"Alas!\" she said, \"must I plead for your love in vain?\"\n\"Madam,\" said Bors, \"I cannot think of earthly ties and delights while\nmy brother lies dead, and awaits the rites of the Church.\"\n\"I have loved you long,\" she repeated, \"both for your beauty of body and\nsoul, and the high renown you have achieved. Now that chance has brought\nyou to my home, think not ill of me if I let you not go without telling\nmy love, and beseeching you to return it.\"\n\"That I cannot do,\" said Bors.\nAt these words she fell into the deepest sorrow, while tears flowed from\nher beautiful eyes.\n\"You will kill me by your coldness,\" she bewailed. Then she took him by\nthe hand and bade him look upon her. \"Am I not fair and lovely, and\nworthy the love of the best of knights? Alas! since you will not love\nme, you shall see me die of despair before your eyes.\"\n\"That I do not fear to see,\" he replied.\n\"You shall see it within this hour,\" she said, sadly.\nThen she left him, and, taking with her twelve of her ladies, mounted to\nthe highest battlement of the tower, while Bors was led to the\ncourt-yard below.\n\"Ah, Sir Bors, gentle knight, have pity on us!\" cried one of the ladies.\n\"We shall all die if you are cruel to our lady, for she vows that she\nand all of us shall fall from this tower if you disdain her proffered\nlove.\"\nBors looked up, and his heart melted with pity, to see so many fair\nfaces looking beseechingly down upon him, while tears seemed to rain\nfrom their eyes. Yet he was steadfast of heart, for he felt that he\ncould not lose his soul to save their lives, and his vow of chastity in\nthe quest of the Sangreal was not to be broken for the delights of\nearthly love.\nAs he stood, some of the maidens flung themselves from the tower, and\nlay dead and bleeding at his feet, while above he saw the fair face of\nthe lady looking down, as she stood balanced on the battlement, like a\nfair leaf that the next wind would sweep to certain death.\n\"God help me and guide me!\" cried Bors in horror. \"What shall I do? Here\nearthly endurance is too weak; I must put my trust in heaven.\" And he\nmade the sign of the cross on his forehead and his breast.\nThen came a marvel indeed. A roar was heard as if thunder had rent the\nsky, and a cry as if all the fiends of hell were about him. For the\nmoment he closed his eyes, stunned by the uproar. When he opened them\nagain all had gone,--the tower, the lady, the knights, and the chapel\nwhere he had placed his brother's body,--and he stood in the road, armed\nand mounted, while only a broad, empty plain spread before him.\nThen he held up his hands to heaven and cried fervently: \"Father and\nCreator, from what have I escaped! It is the foul fiend in the likeness\nof a beautiful woman who has tempted me. Only the sign of the holy cross\nhas saved me from perdition.\"\nPutting spurs to his horse he rode furiously away, burning with anxiety\nto get from that accursed place, and deeply glad at his escape. As he\nproceeded a loud clock-bell sounded to the right, and turning thither he\ncame to a high wall, over which he saw the pinnacles of an abbey.\nHere he asked shelter for the night, and was received with a warm\nwelcome, for those within deemed he was one of the knights that sought\nthe Sangreal. When morning came he heard mass, and then the abbot came\nand bade him good-morning. A conversation followed, in which he told the\nabbot all that had happened to him, and begged his interpretation\nthereof.\n\"Truly you are strong in the service of the Lord,\" said the abbot, \"and\nare held for great deeds. Thus I interpret your adventures and visions.\nThe great fowl that fed its young with its own blood is an emblem of\nChrist, who shed his blood for the good of mankind. And the bare tree on\nwhich it sat signifies the world, which of itself is barren and without\nfruit. Also King Aniause betokens Jesus Christ, and the lady for whom\nyou took the battle the new law of Holy Church; while the older lady is\nthe emblem of the old law and the fiend, which forever war against the\nChurch.\n\"By the black bird also was emblemed the Holy Church, which saith, 'I\nam black but he is fair.' The white bird represented the fiend, which,\nlike hypocrisy, is white without and foul within. As for the rotten\nchair and the white lilies, the first was thy brother Lionel, who is a\nmurderer and an untrue knight; while the lilies were the knight and the\nlady. The one drew near to the other to dishonor her, but you forced\nthem to part. And you would have been in great peril had you, for the\nrescue of a rotten tree, suffered those two flowers to perish; for if\nthey had sinned together they had both been damned.\n\"The seeming man of religion, who blamed you for leaving your brother to\nrescue a lady, was the foul fiend himself. Your brother was not slain,\nas he made it appear, but is still alive. For the corpse, and the\nchapel, and the tower were all devices of the evil one, and the lady who\noffered her love was the fiend himself in that showing. He knew you were\ntender-hearted, and he did all. Much you may thank God that you\nwithstood his temptation, and that until now you have come through all\nyour adventures pure and unblemished.\"\nThis gladdened the heart of the virtuous knight, and a warm hope of\nwinning the Sangreal arose in his soul. Much more passed between them,\nand when Bors rode forth it was with the fervent blessing of the holy\nabbot.\nOn the morning of the second day Bors saw before him a castle that rose\nin a green valley, and met with a yeoman, whom he stopped and asked what\nwas going on in that country.\n\"Sir knight,\" he answered, \"there is to be held a great tournament\nbefore that castle.\"\n\"By what people?\" asked Bors.\n\"The Earl of Plains,\" was the answer, \"leads one party, and the nephew\nof the Lady of Hervin the other.\"\nWith this the yeoman rode on, and Bors kept on his course, thinking he\nmight meet Lionel or some other of his old comrades at the tournament.\nAt length he turned aside to a hermitage that stood at the entrance to\nthe forest. And to his surprise and joy he saw his brother Lionel\nsitting armed at the chapel door, waiting there to take part in the\ntournament the next morning.\nSpringing from his horse, Bors ran up gladly, crying, \"Dear brother,\nhappy is this meeting!\"\n\"Come not near me!\" cried Lionel, leaping to his feet in a burst of\nfury. \"False recreant, you left me in peril of death to help a yelping\nwoman, and by my knightly vow you shall pay dearly for it. Keep from me,\ntraitor, and defend yourself. You or I shall die for this.\"\nOn seeing his brother in such wrath Bors kneeled beseechingly before\nhim, holding up his hands, and praying for pardon and forgiveness.\n\"Never!\" said Lionel. \"I vow to God to punish you for your treachery.\nYou have lived long enough for a dog and traitor.\"\nThen he strode wrathfully away, and came back soon, mounted and with\nspear in hand.\n\"Bors de Ganis,\" he cried, \"defend yourself, for I hold you as a felon\nand traitor, and the untruest knight that ever came from so worthy a\nhouse as ours. Mount and fight. If you will not, I will run on you as\nyou stand there on foot. The shame shall be mine and the harm yours; but\nof that shame I reck naught.\"\nWhen Bors saw that he must fight with his brother or die he knew not\nwhat to do. Again he kneeled and begged forgiveness, in view of the love\nthat ought to be between brothers.\nBut the fiend that sought his overthrow had put such fury into Lionel's\nheart that nothing could turn him from his wrathful purpose. And when he\nsaw that Bors would not mount, he spurred his horse upon him and rode\nover him, hurting him so with his horse's hoofs that he swooned with the\npain. Then Lionel sprang from his horse and rushed upon him sword in\nhand to strike off his head.\nAt this critical moment the hermit, who was a man of great age, came\nrunning out, and threw himself protectingly on the fallen knight.\n\"Gentle sir,\" he cried to Lionel, \"have mercy on me and on thy brother,\nwho is one of the worthiest knights in the world. If you slay him, you\nwill lose your soul.\"\n\"Sir priest,\" said Lionel, sternly, \"if you leave not I shall slay you,\nand him after you.\"\n\"Slay me if you will, but spare your brother, for my death would not do\nhalf so much harm as his.\"\n\"Have it, then, meddler, if you will!\" cried Lionel, and he struck the\nhermit a blow with his sword that stretched him dead on the ground.\nThen, with unquenched anger, he tore loose the lacings of his brother's\nhelmet, and would have killed him on the spot but for a fortunate\nchance.\nAs it happened, Colgrevance, a fellow of the Round Table, rode up at\nthat moment, and wondered when he saw the hermit dead, and Lionel about\nto slay his brother, whom he greatly loved.\nLeaping hastily to the ground, he caught the furious knight by the\nshoulders and drew him strongly backward.\n\"What would you do?\" he cried. \"Madman, would you kill your brother, the\nworthiest knight of our brotherhood? And are you so lost to honor as to\nslay any knight thus lying insensible?\"\n\"Will you hinder me?\" asked Lionel, turning in rage. \"Back, sirrah, or I\nshall slay you first and him afterwards.\"\n\"Why seek you to slay him?\"\n\"He has richly deserved it, and die he shall, whoever says the\ncontrary.\"\nThen he ran upon Bors and raised his sword to strike him on the head.\nBut Colgrevance pushed between them and thrust him fiercely backward.\n\"Off, you murderer!\" he cried. \"If you are so hot for blood you must\nhave mine first.\"\n\"Who are you?\" demanded Lionel.\n\"I am Colgrevance, one of your fellows. Round Table Knights should be\nbrothers, not foes, but I would challenge King Arthur himself in this\nquarrel.\"\n\"Defend yourself, meddler,\" cried Lionel, rushing upon him and striking\nhim fiercely on the helm with his sword.\n\"That shall I,\" rejoined Colgrevance, attacking him in turn.\nThen a hot battle began, for Colgrevance was a good knight, and defended\nhimself manfully.\nWhile the fight went on Bors recovered his senses, and saw with a sad\nheart Colgrevance defending him against his brother. He strove to rise\nand part them, but his hurts were such that he could not stand on his\nfeet. And thus he sat watching the combat till he saw that Colgrevance\nhad the worst, for Lionel had wounded him sorely, and he had lost so\nmuch blood that he could barely stand.\nAt this juncture he saw Bors, who sat watching them in deep anguish.\n\"Bors,\" he cried, \"I am fighting to succor you. Will you sit there and\nsee me perish?\"\n\"You both shall die,\" cried Lionel, furiously. \"You shall pay the\npenalty of your meddling, and he of his treason.\"\nHearing this, Bors rose with aching limbs, and painfully put on his\nhelm. Colgrevance again called to him in anguish,--\n\"Help me, Bors! I can stand no longer. Will you let me die without\nlifting your hand?\"\nAt this moment Lionel smote the helm from his head, and then with\nanother fierce blow stretched him dead and bleeding upon the earth.\nThis murderous deed done, he ran on Bors with the passion of a fiend,\nand dealt him a blow that made him stoop.\n\"For God's love leave me!\" cried Bors. \"If I slay you or you me, we will\nboth be dead of that sin.\"\n\"May God never help me if I take mercy on you, if I have the better\nhand,\" cried Lionel, in reply.\nThen Bors drew his sword, though his eyes were wet with tears.\n\"Fair brother,\" he said, \"God knows my heart. You have done evil enough\nthis day, in slaying a holy priest and one of our own brotherhood of\nknights. I fear you not, but I dread the wrath of God, for this is an\nunnatural battle which you force upon me. May God have mercy upon me,\nsince I must defend my life against my brother.\"\nSaying this, Bors raised his sword and advanced upon Lionel, who stood\nbefore him with the wrath of a fury.\nThen would have been a most unholy battle, had not God come to the\nrescue. For as they thus stood defiant a voice came to them from the\nair, which said,--\n\"Flee, Bors, and touch him not, for if you do, you will surely slay\nhim.\"\nAnd between them descended a cloud that gleamed like fire, and from\nwhich issued a marvellous flame that burned both their shields to a\ncinder. They were both so affrighted that they fell to the earth, and\nlay there long in a swoon.\nWhen they came to themselves Bors saw that his brother had received no\nharm. For this he thanked God, for he feared that heaven's vengeance had\nfallen upon him. Then came the voice again.\n\"Bors,\" it said, \"go hence, and bear thy brother company no longer. Take\nthy way to the sea where Percivale awaiteth thee.\"\n\"Forgive me, brother,\" said Bors, \"for what I have done against you.\"\n\"God has forgiven you, and I must,\" said Lionel. \"It was the foul fiend\nthat filled my soul with fury, and much harm has come of it.\"\nThen Bors rode away, leaving Lionel in the company of those whom he had\nslain, and took the most direct road towards the sea.\nAt length he came to an abbey that was near the water-side. And at\nmidnight as he rested there he was roused from his sleep by a voice,\nthat bade him leave his bed and ride onward.\nHe started up at this, and made the sign of the cross on his forehead;\nthen took his harness and horse, and rode out at a broken place in the\nabbey wall. An hour or so brought him to the water-side, and on the\nstrand there lay awaiting him a ship all covered with white samite. Bors\nalighted, and leaving his horse on the stand entered the ship,\ncommending himself to Christ's fostering care.\nHardly had he done so before the sails spread, as of themselves, and the\nvessel set out to sea so fast that it seemed to fly. But it was still\ndark night, and he saw no one about him. So he lay down and slept till\nday.\nWhen he awaked he saw a knight lying in the middle of the deck, all\narmed but the helm. A glance told him that it was Percivale de Galis,\nand he sprang towards him with joy. But Percivale drew back, asking him\nwho he was.\n\"Know you me not?\" asked Bors.\n\"I do not. But I marvel how you came hither, unless brought by our Lord\nhimself.\"\nThen Bors took off his helm and smiled. Great was Percivale's joy when\nhe recognized him, and long did they converse in gladness, telling each\nother their adventures and temptations.\nAnd so they went far over the sea, the ship taking them they knew not\nwhither, yet each comforted the other, and daily they prayed for God's\ngrace.\n\"Now, that we two are together,\" said Percivale, \"we lack nothing but\nGalahad, the best of knights.\"\nCHAPTER VI.\nTHE ADVENTURE OF THE MAGIC SHIP.\nAfter Galahad had rescued Percivale from the twenty knights, he rode\ninto a vast forest, through which he journeyed for many days, meeting\nthere many strange adventures. Then fortune took him past a castle where\na tournament was in progress, and where the men of the castle had so\nmuch the worse of it that they were driven back to their gates, and some\nof them slain. Seeing this, Galahad rode to the aid of the weaker party,\nand did marvellous deeds of arms, soon aiding them to drive back their\nfoes.\nAs it happened, Gawaine and Hector de Maris were with the outer party,\nand when they beheld the white shield with the red cross, they said to\none another,--\n\"That hewer of helms and shields is Galahad, none less. We should be\nfools to meet him face to face.\"\nYet Gawaine did not escape, for Galahad came at full career upon him,\nand gave him such a blow that his helm was cleft, and so would his head\nhave been but that the sword slanted, and cut the shoulder of his horse\ndeeply.\nSeeing Gawaine thus dealt with, Hector drew back, not deeming it wise to\nmeet such a champion, nor the part of nature to fight with his nephew.\nGalahad continued his onset till he had beaten down all the knights\nopposed to him. Then, seeing that none would face him, he turned and\nrode away as he had come, none knowing whither he, who had come upon\nthem with the suddenness of a thunder-clap, had gone.\n\"Lancelot du Lake told no less than the truth,\" declared Gawaine,\nbitterly, \"when he said that, for seeking to draw the sword from the\nstone, I would get a sore wound from that same blade. In faith, I would\nnot for the best castle in the world have had such a buffet.\"\n\"Your quest is done, it seems,\" said Hector.\n\"As for that, it was done before. You can still seek the Sangreal if you\nwill, but I shall seek my bed; and I fear I shall stay there much longer\nthan I care to.\"\nThen he was borne into the castle, where a leech was found for him,\nwhile Hector remained with him, vowing he would not leave till his\ncomrade was well.\nMeanwhile Galahad rode on, leaving many a groan and more than one sore\nhead behind him, and at night reached a hermitage near the castle of\nCarbonek. Here he was welcomed by the hermit; but late at night, when\nthey were asleep, a loud knock came on the door, which roused the host.\nGoing to see who knocked at that untimely hour, he found a lady at the\ndoor, who said,--\n\"Ulfin, rouse the knight who is with you. I must speak with him.\"\nThis he did, and Galahad went to the door, and asked her what she\nwished.\n\"Galahad,\" she replied, \"I am sent here to seek you. You must arm and\nmount your horse at once, and follow me. Within three days I shall bring\nyou to the greatest adventure that ever knight met.\"\nWithout further question Galahad obeyed, and, having commended himself\nto God, he bade his fair guide to lead, and he would follow wherever she\nwished.\nOnward they rode during the remainder of the night and the next day,\ntill they came to a castle not far from the sea, where Galahad was\nwarmly welcomed, for the damsel who guided him had been sent by the lady\nof that castle.\n\"Madam,\" said the damsel, \"shall he stay here all night?\"\n\"No,\" she replied; \"only until he has dined, and has slept a little. He\nmust ride on until destiny is accomplished.\"\nSo at early nightfall Galahad was called and helped to arm by\ntorchlight. Then he and the damsel again took horse, and rode on at\nspeed till they suddenly found themselves at the ocean's brink, with the\nwaves breaking at their feet. And here lay a ship covered with white\nsamite, from which manly voices cried,--\n\"Welcome, Sir Galahad. We have long awaited you. Come on board.\"\n\"What means this?\" asked Galahad of the damsel. \"Who are they that\ncall?\"\n\"No others than your friends and comrades, Sir Bors and Sir Percivale.\nHere you must leave your horse, and I mine, and both of us enter the\nship, for so God commands.\"\nThis they did, taking their saddles and bridles with them, and making on\nthem the sign of the cross. When they had entered the ship the two\nknights received them with great joy. And as they stood greeting each\nother the wind suddenly rose and drove the ship from the land, forcing\nit through the waves at a marvellous speed.\n\"Whence comes this ship?\" asked Galahad.\nThen Bors and Percivale told him of their adventures and temptations,\nand by what miracles they had been brought on board that vessel.\n\"Truly,\" said Galahad, \"God has aided you marvellously. As for me, had\nit not been for the lady who led me, I should never have found you.\"\n\"If Lancelot, your father, were but here,\" said Bors, \"then it would\nseem to me that we had all that heart could wish.\"\n\"That may not be,\" answered Galahad, \"unless by the pleasure of our\nLord.\"\nAs they conversed the ship suddenly ran between two rocks, where it held\nfast, but where they could not land for the raging of the sea. But just\nbefore them lay another ship, which they could reach without danger.\n[Illustration: Copyright 1901 by E. A. Abbey; from a Copely print\ncopyright 1902 by Curtis and Cameron.\nTHE MAGIC SHIP.]\n\"Thither we must go,\" said the lady, \"and there we shall find strange\nthings, for such is the Lord's will.\"\nAt this they approached the ship, and saw that it was richly provided,\nbut without man or woman on board. And on its bow there was written in\nlarge letters,--\n\"You who shall enter this ship, take heed of your belief: for I am\nFaith, and bid you beware. If you fail I shall not help you. He who\nenters here must be of pure heart and earnest trust.\"\nThey stood looking earnestly at one another after having read these\nwords.\n\"Percivale,\" said the lady, \"know you who I am?\"\n\"I do not,\" he replied. \"Have I ever seen you before?\"\n\"Know, then, that I am your sister, the daughter of King Pellinore. I\nlove no man on earth as I do you. I warn you, therefore, not to enter\nthis ship unless you have perfect belief in our Lord Jesus Christ, for\nif your faith fails you aught here you shall perish.\"\n\"Fair sister,\" he replied, \"happy am I, indeed, to know you. As for the\nship, I shall not fail to enter it. If I prove an untrue knight or a\nmisbeliever, then let me perish.\"\nAs they spoke, Galahad blessed himself and entered the ship, and after\nhim came the lady, and then Bors and Percivale. On reaching the deck\nthey found it so marvellously fair and rich that they stood in wonder.\nIn the midst of the ship was a noble bed; and when Galahad went thither\nhe found on it a crown of silk. Below this lay a sword, half drawn from\nits scabbard, the pommel being of stone of many colors. The scales of\nthe haft were of the ribs of two beasts. One beast was a serpent, known\nin Calidone as the serpent of the fiend; and its bone had the magic\nvirtue that the hand which touched it should never be weary or hurt. The\nother beast was a fish, that haunted the flood of Euphrates, its name\nErtanax; its bone had the virtue that he who handled it should not think\non the joys and sorrows of his past life, but only of that which he then\nbeheld. And no man could grasp this sword but the one who passed all\nothers in might and virtue.\n\"In the name of God,\" said Percivale, \"I shall seek to handle it.\"\nBut in vain he tried, he could not grasp the magic hilt. No more could\nBors, who attempted it in his turn. Then Galahad approached, and as he\ndid so saw written on the sword in letters like blood, \"He who draweth\nme has peril to endure. His body shall meet with shame, for he shall be\nwounded to the death.\"\n\"By my faith, the risk is too great,\" said Galahad. \"I shall not set my\nhand to so fatal a blade.\"\n\"That you must,\" said the lady. \"The drawing of this sword is forbidden\nto all men, save you. No one can draw back from that which destiny\ncommands.\"\nThen she told a marvellous story of that strange blade.\n\"When this ship arrived in the realm of England,\" she said, \"there was\ndeadly war between King Labor and King Hurlame, who was a christened\nSaracen. Here they fought one day by the sea-side, and Hurlame was\ndefeated and his men slain. Then he fled into this ship, drew the sword\nwhich he saw here, and with one stroke smote King Labor and his horse in\ntwain. But a fatal stroke it proved, for with it there came harm and\npestilence to all this realm. Neither corn nor grass would grow, fruit\nfailed to ripen, the waters held no fish, and men named this the waste\nland of the two marches. Nor did King Hurlame escape. When he saw the\nstrange carving of the sword, a craving came into his mind to possess\nthe scabbard. Entering the ship for that purpose, he thrust the sword\ninto the sheath; but no sooner had he done so than he fell dead beside\nthe bed. And there his body lay till a maiden entered the ship and cast\nit out, for no man could be found hardy enough to set foot on that fatal\ndeck.\"\nThe three knights on hearing this looked earnestly at the scabbard,\nwhich seemed to them made of serpent's skin, while on it was writing in\nletters of gold and silver. But the girdle was poor and mean, and ill\nsuited to so rich a sword. The writing was to this effect: \"He who shall\nwield me must be hardy of nature. Nor shall he ever be shamed while he\nis girt with this girdle; which must never be put away except by the\nhands of a maiden and a king's daughter. And she, if she shall ever\ncease to be a maid, shall die the most villanous death that woman ever\nendured.\"\n\"Turn the sword,\" said Percivale, \"that we may see what is on the other\nside.\"\nOn doing so they found it red as blood, with coal-black letters, which\nsaid: \"He that shall praise me most shall find me most to fail him in\ntime of great need; and to whom I should be most fair shall I prove most\nfoul. Thus is it ordained.\"\nThen Percivale's sister told them the history of the sword, which was a\nvery strange and admirable thing to hear. More than once had it been\ndrawn in modern times; once by Nancien, who afterwards became a hermit,\nand in whose hands the sword fell in half, and sorely wounded him in the\nfoot. Afterwards it was drawn by King Pellam, and it was for this\nboldness that he was destined to be deeply wounded by the spear with\nwhich Balin afterwards struck him.\nThe knights now observed the bed more closely, and saw that above its\nhead there hung two swords. With them were three strange spindles, one\nof which was white as snow, one red as blood, and one as green as\nemerald. As they gazed at them with curious wonder, the damsel told a\nstrange story of the surprising things they had gazed upon. And thus her\nstory ran.\nWhen mother Eve gathered the fruit for which Adam and she were put out\nof Paradise, she took with her the bough on which the apple grew. As it\nkept fair and green, and she had no coffer in which to keep it, she\nthrust it in the earth, where, by God's will, it took root, and soon\ngrew to a great tree, whose branches and leaves were as white as milk.\nBut afterwards, at the time of Abel's birth, it became grass-green. It\nwas under this tree that Cain slew Abel, and then it quickly lost its\ngreen color, and grew red as blood. So it lived and thrived, and was in\nfull life when Solomon, the wise king, came to the throne.\nIt came to pass that, as Solomon studied over many things, and, above\nall, despised women in his heart and in his writings, a voice came which\ntold him that of his line would be born the Virgin Mary, the purest and\nnoblest of human kind, and that afterwards would come a man, the last of\nhis blood, as pure in mind as a young maiden, and as good a knight as\nJoshua of Israel. This revelation he told to his wife, who had\nquestioned him as to the reason of his deep study.\n\"Sir,\" she said, \"since this knight is to come, it is our duty to\nprepare for him. Therefore, I shall first have made a ship of the best\nand most durable wood that man may find.\"\nThis was done by Solomon's command. When the ship was built and ready to\nsail, she made a covering for it of cloth of silk, of such quality that\nno weather could rot it. And in the midst she placed a great bed, of\nmarvellously rich workmanship, and covered with silk of the finest\ntexture.\n\"Now, my dear lord,\" she said to Solomon, \"since this last knight of\nyour lineage is to pass in valor and renown all other knights that have\nbeen before or shall come after him, therefore I counsel you to go into\nthe Temple of the Lord, where is the sword of the great King David, your\nfather, which is of magic temper and virtue. Take off the pommel of this\nsword and make one of precious stones, skilfully wrought. And make a\nhilt and sheath of great richness and beauty. As for the girdle, leave\nthat to me to provide.\"\nSolomon did as she advised, and she took the sword and laid it in the\nbed; but when he looked at it he grew angry, for the girdle was meanly\nmade of hemp.\n\"I have nothing,\" she said, \"fit to make a girdle worthy of such a\nsword. But when the time comes a maiden will change this for a girdle\nworthy of him that is to wear it.\"\nThis done, she went with a carpenter to the tree under which Abel was\nslain.\n\"Carve me from this tree as much wood as will make me a spindle,\" she\nsaid.\n\"Ah, madam,\" said he, \"I dare not cut the tree which our first mother\nplanted.\"\n\"Do as you are bidden,\" she ordered. \"Dare not disobey me.\"\nBut as he began to cut the tree drops of blood flowed out. Then he would\nhave fled, but she made him cut sufficient to form a spindle. Next she\nwent to the green and the white trees, which had grown from the roots of\nthe other, and bade him cut as much from each of these. From this wood\nwere three spindles wrought, which she hung up at the head of the bed.\n\"You have done marvellously well,\" said Solomon, on seeing this.\n\"Wonderful things, I deem, shall come of all this, more than you\nyourself dream of.\"\n\"Some of these things you shall soon know,\" she answered.\nThat night Solomon lay near the ship, and as he slept he dreamed. There\ncame from heaven, as it seemed to him, a great company of angels, who\nalighted in the ship, and took water that was brought by an angel in a\nvessel of silver, and sprinkled it everywhere. Then the angel came to\nthe sword and drew letters on the hilt, and on the ship's bow he wrote,\n\"You who shall enter this ship take heed of your belief,\" and further as\nthe knights had read. When Solomon had read these words he drew back,\nand dared not enter, and there soon arose a wind which drove the ship\nfar to sea, so that it was quickly lost to sight. Then a low voice said,\n\"Solomon, the last knight of thy lineage shall rest in this bed.\" With\nthis Solomon waked, and lo! the ship was gone.\nThis was the story that the fair damsel, Percivale's sister, told to the\nknights, as they stood curiously surveying the bed and the spindles.\nThen one of them lifted a cloth that lay on the deck, and under it found\na purse, in which was a written paper, telling the same strange story\nthey had just heard.\n\"The sword is here,\" said Galahad; \"but where shall be found the maiden\nwho is to make the new girdle?\"\n\"You need not seek far,\" said Percivale's sister. \"By God's leave, I\nhave been chosen to make that girdle, and have it here.\"\nThen she opened a box which she had brought with her, and took from it a\ngirdle that was richly wrought with golden threads and studded with\nprecious stones, while its buckle was of polished gold.\n\"Lo, lords and knights,\" she said, \"here is the destined girdle. The\ngreater part of it was made of my hair, which I loved dearly when I was\na woman of the world. When I knew that I was set aside for this high\npurpose, I cut off my hair and wrought this girdle in God's name.\"\n\"Well have you done!\" cried Bors. \"Without you we would have learned\nnothing of this high emprise.\"\nThen the noble maiden removed the mean girdle from the sword, and put\nupon it the rich one she had brought, which became it wonderfully.\n\"By what name shall we call this sword?\" they now asked her.\n\"Its name is,\" she answered, \"the sword with the strange girdle; and\nthat of the sheath is, mover of blood. But no man with blood in him\nshall ever see the part of the sheath that was made of the tree of\nlife.\"\nThen she took the sword and girded it about Galahad, fastening the\ngolden buckle about his waist.\n\"Now reck I not though I die,\" she said, \"for I hold that I am one of\nthe world's blessed maidens, since it has been given to me to arm the\nworthiest knight in the world.\"\nAfter this they left the magic ship at her bidding, and entered the one\nin which they had come. And immediately there rose a great wind which\nblew their vessel from between the rocks, and carried it afar over the\nsea.\nCHAPTER VII.\nHOW LANCELOT SAW THE SANGREAL.\nThe ship that bore the three knights and the maiden came ashore at\nlength near a castle in Scotland, where they landed. From here they\njourneyed far, while many were their adventures, all of which tried\ntheir virtue and belonged to the quest of the Sangreal. In them all the\nsword with the strange girdle proved of such marvellous worth that no\nmen, were they a hundred in number, could stand before it.\nFinally they came to a castle which had the strange custom that every\nmaiden who passed that way should yield a dish full of blood. When they\nasked the reason of this dreadful custom, they were told,--\n\"There is in this castle a lady to whom the domain belongs, and who has\nlain for years sick of a malady which no leech can cure. And a wise man\nhas said that she can only be cured if she have a dish full of blood\nfrom a pure virgin and a king's daughter, with which to anoint her.\"\n\"Fair knights,\" said Percivale's sister, \"I alone can aid the sick lady,\nwho must die otherwise.\"\n\"If you bleed as they demand, you may die,\" said Galahad. \"Is not your\nlife worth more than hers?\"\n\"This I answer,\" said she. \"If I yield not my blood there will be mortal\nwar between you and the knights of the castle to-morrow, and many men\nmust die that one woman may not bleed. If I die to heal the sick lady I\nshall gain renown and do God's will, and surely one harm is better than\nmany. That you will fight for me to the death, I know, but wherefore\nshould you?\"\nSay what they would, she held to her will, and the next morning bade the\npeople of the castle bring forth the sick lady. She lay in great pain\nand suffering, and bent her eyes pleadingly on the devoted maiden.\nThen Percivale's sister bared her arm, and bade them bleed her. This\nthey did till a silver dish was filled with her life blood. Then she\nblessed the lady, and said,--\n\"Madam, I have given my life for yours; for God's love, pray for me!\"\nand she fell in a swoon.\nGalahad and his fellows hastened to stanch the blood, but it was too\nlate, her life was ebbing fast.\n\"Fair brother Percivale,\" she said, \"death is upon me. But before I die\nI have this to tell you. It is written that I shall not be buried in\nthis country. When I am dead, seek you the sea-shore near by, and put my\nbody in a boat, and let it go where fortune bears it. But when you three\narrive at the city of Sarras, in Palestine, which you will in God's good\ntime, you shall find me arrived there before you. There bury me in\nconsecrated soil. This further I may say, that there the holy Grail\nshall be achieved, and there shall Galahad die and be buried in the same\nplace.\"\nAnd as they stood there weeping beside her a voice came to them,\nsaying,--\n\"Lords and comrades, to-morrow at sunrise you three must depart, each\ntaking his own way, and you shall not meet again till adventure bring\nyou to the maimed king.\"\nAfter that all was done as had been foreseen and desired. The maiden\ndied, and the same day the sick lady was healed, through the virtue of\nher blood. Then Percivale wrote a letter telling who she was and what\nthings she had done. This he put in her right hand, and laid her body in\na vessel that was covered with black silk. The wind now arose and drove\nit far from the land, while all stood watching it till it was out of\nsight.\nThen they returned towards the castle. But suddenly a tempest of wind,\nthunder, and rain broke from the sky, so furious that the very earth\nseemed to be torn up. And as they looked they saw the turrets of the\ncastle and part of its walls totter and fall, and in a moment come\ncrashing in ruin to the earth.\nThat night they slept in a chapel, and in the morning rode to the\ncastle, to see how it had fared in the storm. But when they reached it\nthey found it in ruins, while of all that had dwelt there not one was\nleft alive. All of them, man and woman alike, had fallen victims to the\nvengeance of God. And they heard a voice that said,--\n\"This vengeance is for the shedding of maidens' blood.\"\nBut at the end of the chapel was a church-yard in which were threescore\ntombs, over which it seemed no tempest had passed. And in these lay all\nthe maidens who had shed their blood and died martyrs for the sick\nlady's sake. On these were their names and lineage, and all were of\nroyal blood, and twelve of them kings' daughters.\nThe knights turned away, marvelling much at what they had seen and\nheard.\n\"Here we must part,\" said Galahad. \"Let us pray that we may soon meet\nagain.\"\nThen they kissed each other, and wept at the parting, and each rode his\nown way into the forest before them.\nBut we must now leave them and return to Lancelot, whom we left sorely\nrepentant of his sins. After he departed from the hermitage he rode\nthrough many lands and had divers adventures, and in the end came to the\nsea-shore, beside which he lay down and slept.\nIn his slumber, words came to his ear, saying, \"Lancelot, rise and take\nthine armor, and enter into the first ship that thou shalt find.\" On\nhearing these words he started up, and saw that all about him was\nstrangely clear, the skies giving out a light like that of midday. Then\nhe blessed himself, and took his arms, and advanced to the strand, where\nhe saw a ship without sails or oars. This he entered, as he had been\nbidden, and when he was within it his heart was filled with such joy as\nhe had never before known.\nNaught had he ever thought of or desired but what seemed come to him\nnow, and in his gladness he returned thanks fervently to the Lord.\n\"I know not what has happened to me,\" he said, \"but such joy as I feel I\nnever dreamed the human heart could hold.\"\nThen he lay down and slept on the ship's deck, and when he woke the\nnight had passed and it was broad day.\nAnd in the ship he found a bed, whereon lay a dead lady, with a letter\nin her right hand which Lancelot read. From this he learned that the\nfair corpse was that of Percivale's sister, together with many of the\nstrange things that had happened to her and the chosen knights.\nFor a month or more Lancelot abode in this ship, driven about the seas,\nand sustained by no food, but by the grace of the Holy Ghost, for he\nprayed fervently for God's aid night and morning.\nAt length came a night when the ship touched the shore. Here he landed,\nbeing somewhat weary of the deck. And as he stood on the strand he heard\na horse approach, and soon one rode by that seemed a knight.\nWhen he came to the ship he checked his horse and alighted. Then, taking\nthe saddle and bridle from the horse, he turned it free and entered the\nship. Lancelot, in surprise, drew near.\n\"Fair knight,\" he said, \"I know not who you are or why you come. But\nsince you seek passage on my ship you are welcome.\"\nThe other saluted him in turn, and asked,--\n\"What is your name? I pray you, tell me, for my heart warms strangely\ntowards you.\"\n\"My name is Lancelot du Lake.\"\n\"Then are we well met indeed. You are my father.\"\n\"Ah! then you are Galahad?\"\n\"Yes, truly,\" and as he spoke he took off his helm, and kneeled, and\nasked his blessing.\nJoyful indeed was that meeting, and gladly there father and son\ncommuned, telling each other all that had happened to them since they\nleft the court. When Galahad saw the dead maiden he knew her well, and\ntold his father the story of the sword, at which he marvelled greatly.\n\"Truly, Galahad,\" he said, \"I never heard of aught so strange, and can\nwell believe you were born for wondrous deeds.\"\nAfterwards for nearly half a year the father and son dwelt together\nwithin that ship, serving God day and night with prayer and praise. Now\nthey touched on peopled shores, and now on desert islands where only\nwild beasts abode, and perilous and strange adventures they met. But\nthese we shall not tell, since they had naught to do with the Sangreal.\nBut at length came a Monday morning when the ship touched shore at the\nedge of a forest, before a cross, where they saw a knight armed all in\nwhite, and leading a white horse. He saluted them courteously, and\nsaid,--\n\"Galahad, you have been long enough with your father. You must now leave\nthe ship, and take this horse, and ride whither destiny shall lead you\nin the quest of the Sangreal.\"\nHearing this command, Galahad kissed his father, and bade him farewell,\nsaying,--\n\"Dear father, I know not if we shall ever meet again.\"\n\"Then I bid you,\" said Lancelot, \"to pray to the great Father that He\nhold me in His service.\"\nThere came in answer a mysterious voice that spoke these words,--\n\"Think each to do well; for you shall never see each other till the\ndreadful day of doom.\"\nThis voice of destiny affected them greatly, and they bade each other a\ntearful farewell, Lancelot begging again the prayers of his son in his\nbehalf. Then Galahad mounted the white horse and rode into the forest,\nwhile a wind arose which blew the ship from shore, and for a month drove\nit up and down the seas.\nBut at length came a night when it touched shore on the rear side of a\nfair and stately castle. Brightly shone the moon, and Lancelot saw an\nopen postern in which stood on guard two great lions. As he looked he\nheard a voice.\n\"Lancelot,\" it said, \"leave this ship and enter the castle. There shalt\nthou see a part of that which thou desirest.\"\nLancelot at this armed himself and went to the gate, where the lions\nrose rampant against him. With an instinct of fear he drew his sword,\nbut at that instant appeared a dwarf, who struck him on the arm so\nsharply that the sword fell from his hand.\n\"Oh, man of evil hope and weak belief,\" came the mysterious voice,\n\"trust you more in your armor than in your Maker? Does He who brought\nyou here need a sword for your protection?\"\n\"Truly am I reproved,\" said Lancelot. \"Happy am I to be held the Lord's\nward and servant.\"\nHe took up his sword and put it in the sheath, then made a cross on his\nforehead, and advanced to the lions, which raged and showed their teeth\nas if ready to rend him in pieces. Yet with a bold step and tranquil\nmien he passed between them unhurt, and entered the castle.\nThrough it he went, room by room, passage by passage, for every door\nstood wide and no living being met him as he advanced. Finally he came\nto a chamber whose door was closed, and which yielded not to his hand\nwhen he sought to open it. He tried again with all his force, but the\ndoor resisted his strength.\nThen he listened, and heard a voice that sang more sweetly than he had\never heard. And the words seemed to him to be, \"Joy and honor be to the\nFather of Heaven!\"\nLancelot no longer sought to open the door, but kneeled before it,\nfeeling in his heart that the Sangreal was within that chamber.\n\"Sweet Father Jesus,\" he prayed, \"if ever I did aught in thy service, in\npity forgive me my sins, and show me something of that which I seek.\"\nAs he prayed the door opened without hands, and from the room came a\nlight brighter than if all the torches of the world had been there. He\nrose in joy to enter, but the voice spoke sternly in his ear,--\n\"Forbear, Lancelot, and seek not to enter here. If you enter, you shall\nrepent it dearly.\"\nThen he drew back hastily, and looked into the chamber, where he saw a\ntable of silver, on which was the holy vessel covered with red samite,\nwith angels about it, one of which held a burning candle of wax, and one\na cross. And before the holy vessel stood a priest, who seemed to be\nserving the mass. In front of the priest appeared to be three men, two\nof whom put the youngest between the priest's hands, who held him up\nhigh as if to show him. Yet so heavy seemed the figure that the priest\nappeared ready to fall with weakness, and with a sudden impulse Lancelot\nrushed into the room, crying, \"Fair Lord Jesus, hold it no sin that I\nhelp the good man, who seems in utmost need.\"\nBut as he rashly entered and came towards the table of silver, a breath\nthat seemed half fire smote him so hotly in the face that he fell\nheavily to the earth, and lay like one bereft of all his senses. Then\nmany hands seemed to take him up, and bear him without the door, where\nhe lay to all seeming dead.\nWhen morning dawned he was found there by the people of the castle, who\nmarvelled how he got there, and could not be sure if he were dead or\nalive. But they laid him in a bed, and watched him closely, for days\npassed without signs of life or death. At length, on the twenty-fifth\nday, he gave a deep sigh, and opened his eyes, and gazed in wonder on\nthe people about him.\n\"Why have you wakened me?\" he cried. \"Why left you me not to my blessed\nvisions?\"\n\"What have you seen?\" they asked, eagerly.\n\"Such marvels as no tongue can tell nor ear understand,\" he said. \"And\nmore had I seen but that my son was here before me. For God's love,\ngentlemen, tell me where I am.\"\n\"Sir, you are in the castle of Carbonek.\"\n\"I thank God of His great mercy for what I have seen,\" he said. \"Now\nmay I leave the quest of the Sangreal, for more of it shall I never see,\nand few men living shall see so much.\"\nThese words said, he arose and dressed in new clothing that they brought\nhim, and stood in his old strength and beauty before the people.\n\"Sir Lancelot!\" they cried, \"is it you?\"\n\"Truly so,\" he answered.\nThen word was brought to King Pellam, the maimed king, who now dwelt in\nthat castle, that the knight who had lain so long between death and life\nwas Lancelot. Glad was the king to hear this, and he bade them bring\nLancelot to him.\n\"Long has my daughter Elaine been dead,\" he said. \"But happy she lived\nin having been loved by you, and in the grace of her noble son Galahad.\"\n\"I was but cold to her,\" answered Lancelot, \"for she was a lovable lady.\nBut in truth I have been held from love and life's delights, for my fate\nhas not been my own to control.\"\nFor four days he abode at the castle, and then took his armor and horse,\nsaying that now his quest of the Sangreal was done, and duty bade him\nreturn to Camelot.\nBack through many realms he rode, and in time came to the abbey where\nGalahad had won the white shield. Here he spent the night, and the next\nday rode into Camelot, where he was received with untold joy by Arthur\nand the queen.\nFor of the Knights of the Round Table who had set out on that perilous\nquest more than half had perished, and small was the tale of that\ngallant fellowship that could now be mustered. So the coming of\nLancelot filled all hearts with joy.\nGreat was the marvel of the king when Lancelot told him of what he had\nseen and done, and of the adventures of Galahad, Percivale, and Bors.\n\"God send that they were all here again,\" said the king.\n\"That shall never be,\" said Lancelot. \"One of them shall come again, but\ntwo you shall never see.\"\n[Illustration: From the painting by George Frederick Watts.\nSIR GALAHAD'S QUEST OF THE HOLY GRAIL.]\nCHAPTER VIII.\nTHE DEEDS OF THE THREE CHOSEN KNIGHTS.\nAfter Galahad left the ship and his father Lancelot, he rode far and had\nmany adventures, righting many wrongs and achieving many marvels. Among\nthese he came to the abbey where was the ancient King Evelake, who had\nlaid blind three hundred years, as we have elsewhere told.\nThe old king knew well that his deliverance had come, and begged to be\nembraced by the pious youth. No sooner had he been clasped in his arms\nthan his sight returned, and his flesh grew whole and young.\n\"Now, sweet Saviour, my destiny is fulfilled; receive thou my soul,\" he\nprayed.\nAs he said these words the soul left his body, and the miracle of his\nfate was achieved.\nMany days after this Galahad met Percivale, and soon the two came upon\nBors, as he rode out of a great forest, that extended many days' journey\nthrough the land.\nAnd so they rode in glad companionship, with many a tale of marvel to\ntell, till in time they came to the castle of Carbonek, where they were\ngladly received, for those in the castle knew that the quest of the\nSangreal was now wellnigh achieved.\nWhen evening approached, and the table for supper was set, the\nmysterious voice that so often had guided these knights spoke again.\n\"They that are not worthy to sit at the table of Jesus Christ arise,\" it\nsaid; \"for now shall the worthiest be fed.\"\nThen all arose save Eliazar, the son of King Pellam, and a maid who was\nhis niece, and the three knights. But as they sat at supper nine other\nknights, in full armor, entered at the hall door, and took off their\nhelmets and armor, and said to Galahad,--\n\"Sir, we have come far and in haste to be with you at this table, where\nthe holy meat shall be served.\"\n\"If you are worthy, you are welcome,\" said Galahad. \"Whence come you?\"\nThree of them answered that they were from Gaul, three from Ireland, and\nthree from Denmark, and that they had come thither at the bidding of the\nstrange voice.\nSo they all sat at table. But ere they began to eat, four gentlewomen\nbore into the hall a bed, whereon lay a man sick, with a crown of gold\non his head. Setting him down, they went away.\n\"Galahad, holy knight, you are welcome,\" said he who lay in the bed,\nraising his head feebly. \"Long have I waited your coming, in pain and\nanguish, since Balin, the good knight, struck me the dolorous stroke. To\nyou I look for aid and release from my long suffering.\"\nThen spoke the voice again: \"There be those here who are not in the\nquest of the Sangreal; let them depart.\" And the son and niece of the\nking rose and left the room.\nThen there came suddenly four angels, and a man who bore a cross and\nwore the dress of a bishop, whom the angels placed in a chair before the\nsilver table of the Sangreal. In his forehead were letters which said,\n\"This is Joseph, the first bishop of Christendom.\"\nNext opened the chamber door, and angels entered, two bearing wax\ncandles, the third a towel, and the fourth a spear that bled, the blood\ndrops falling into a silver vessel which he held in his other hand. The\ncandles were set on the table, the towel spread upon the vessel, and the\nspear set upright on this.\nThe bishop then said mass, at which other strange signs were seen; for a\nfigure like a child, with a face that shone like flame, entered into the\nbread of the sacrament. Then the bishop kissed Galahad, and bade him\nkiss his fellows. This done, he said,--\n\"Servants of Jesus Christ, ye shall here be fed on such meats as never\nknights tasted;\" and with these words he vanished.\nBut as they knelt in prayer before the table, they saw come out of the\nholy vessel a man who bore all the signs of the passion of Jesus Christ.\nAnd he took up the vessel and bore it to Galahad and to the other\nknights, who kneeled to receive the sacrament; and so sweet was it that\ntheir hearts marvelled and were filled with joy.\n\"Now have you tasted of Christ's own food,\" he said, \"and seen what you\nhighly and holily desired. But more openly shall you see it in the city\nof Sarras, in the spiritual place. Therefore you must go hence, for this\nnight the holy vessel will leave this realm, and will never more be seen\nhere. To-morrow you three shall go to the sea, where a ship awaits you;\nand you must take with you the sword with the strange girdle.\"\n\"Shall not these good knights go also?\" asked Galahad.\n\"Not so. They have seen all that is fitting to them. As for you, two of\nyou shall die in my service, and the third shall return and tell what he\nhas seen.\"\nThen he gave them his blessing, and vanished from out their midst.\nWhen they had somewhat recovered from the weight of these marvels,\nGalahad went to the spear that lay on the table, and touched the blood\nwith his fingers, and with it anointed the wounds of the maimed king.\nAnd at this touch he started up whole and strong, thanking God fervently\nfor his healing.\nBut he went not into the world again, but to a monastery of white monks,\nwhere he became a man of holy renown.\nAt midnight came a voice to the nine knights, which said,--\n\"My sons, and not my chieftains; my friends, and not my warriors; go ye\nhence, and do well what comes to you, in my service.\"\n\"Lord,\" they replied, \"wilt thou vouchsafe also to call us thy sinners?\nThy servants we shall be henceforth.\"\nAnd they arose, armed, and departed, bidding a solemn adieu to the three\nknights. When morning dawned these three rose also, and rode till they\ncame to the sea. Here awaited them the ship wherein they had found the\nsword and the three magic spindles, and to their wonder and delight they\nbeheld in its midst the table of silver and the Sangreal, which was\ncovered with red samite.\nIt was a joyous company that sailed over the sea in that magical ship,\nand at the wish of his comrades Galahad slept in the bed where the sword\nhad lain, and Bors and Percivale on the deck beside him.\nAnd so they went by day and by night, and at length came to the city of\nSarras. Here, as they would have landed, they saw beside them, just come\nto shore, the ship that bore the corpse of Percivale's sister, and this\nas fair and as fresh as when first placed within it.\nThen they took up the silver table and bore it to the city, at whose\ngate sat an old and crooked cripple.\n\"Come hither, and help us carry this heavy thing,\" said Galahad.\n\"How shall I do that? I have not gone for ten years without crutches.\"\n\"No matter for that. Show your good will by trying.\"\nThen the cripple rose and took hold, and in that instant he was whole\nand strong, and helped them bear the table to the palace. This done,\nthey returned, and bore to the palace the corpse of Percivale's sister,\nwhich they placed in a rich tomb, suited to a king's daughter.\nMeanwhile the report had spread through the city that a cripple had been\nmade whole by three strange knights, and people flocked to see them.\nWhen the king of the city saw and heard all this, he came to the knights\nand asked them who they were, and what it was they had brought into his\nrealm.\nGalahad answered him, telling of the marvel of the Sangreal, and of\nGod's power and grace therein.\nBut the king, Estorause, a tyrant in will and a pagan in faith, heard\nthis with wrath and unbelief, and ordered the knights to be put in\nprison as spies and felons.\nFor a whole year they lay thus in prison, yet were always kept whole and\nin good spirits; for the holy Sangreal came to them in their dungeons,\nand filled their souls with joy. When the year ended, Estorause grew\nsick unto death, and in remorse sent for the imprisoned knights, whose\npardon and forgiveness he fervently begged. This they gave him, and he\nstraightway died.\nHis death threw the city into dismay, for he had left no successor to\nthe throne. But as the lords sat in council there came a voice that\nbade them choose the youngest of the three knights for their king. This\nmysterious behest was told to the citizens, and with one acclaim they\nhailed it as God's will, and demanded Galahad as their king.\nThereupon he became king of Sarras, though it was not his wish; but he\nfelt it to be God's command. And when he came to the throne he had\nconstructed a chest of gold and precious stones, in which was placed the\ntable of silver with the holy vessel, and before this the three knights\nkneeled and prayed daily with fervent zeal.\nAnd so time rolled on till came the day that was the anniversary of that\nin which Galahad had taken the crown. On this morning he rose betimes,\nand before the holy vessel he saw a man dressed like a bishop, while\nround about him was a great fellowship of angels.\n\"Come forth, thou servant of Jesus Christ, and thou shalt see what thou\nhast so much desired,\" said the bishop.\nThen Galahad began to tremble, his flesh quaking in the presence of\nthings spiritual. And he held his hands up towards heaven, saying,--\n\"Lord, I thank thee, for now my desire is fulfilled. And if it be thy\nwill that I should come to thee, I wish no longer to live.\"\n\"I am Joseph of Arimathea,\" said the strange presence, \"and am sent by\nthe Lord to bear thee fellowship. Thou resemblest me in two things; for\nthou hast seen the highest marvel of the Sangreal, and are pure of heart\nand of body. Now say farewell to thy comrades, for thy time is come to\ndepart.\"\nGalahad thereupon went to Percivale and Bors, and kissed them, and\ncommended them to God, saying to Bors,--\n\"Fair friend, who art destined to return to our native realm, salute for\nme my lord and father Lancelot, and bid him remember the evils of this\nunstable world, and bear in mind the duty he has been taught.\"\nThen he kneeled before the table and prayed fervently, and suddenly his\nsoul departed from his body, a multitude of angels bearing it visibly\nupward toward heaven, in full view of his late comrades. Also they saw\ncome from heaven a hand, with no body visible, and take up the holy\nvessel and the spear, and bear them to heaven. And from that moment no\nman ever saw on earth again the blessed Sangreal.\nAfterwards Galahad's body was buried with great honor, and with many\ntears from his two fellows and from the people whom he had governed.\nThen Percivale betook him to a hermitage, and entered upon a religious\nlife; while Bors stayed with him, but in secular clothing, for it was\nhis purpose to return to England.\nFor a year and two months Percivale lived thus the holy life of a\nhermit, and then he passed out of this world, and was buried by\nBors--who mourned him as deeply as ever man was mourned--beside his\nsister and Galahad. This pious office performed, Sir Bors, the last of\nthe three chosen knights, felt that his duty in that land was at an end,\nand thereupon took ship at the city of Sarras and sailed for the realm\nof England, where he in good season arrived. Here he took horse and\nrode in all haste to Camelot, where King Arthur and the court then were,\nand where he was received with the greatest joy and wonder, for so long\nhad it been since any man there had set eyes on him, that all believed\nhim to be dead.\nBut greater than their wonder was their admiration when the returned\nknight told the story of miracle and adventure which had befallen him\nand his two comrades, and the pious maid, Percivale's sister, and of the\nholy life and death of Galahad and Percivale. This marvellous narrative\nthe king had told again to skilled clerks, that they might put upon\nrecord the wonderful deeds of these good knights. And it was all written\ndown in great books, which were put in safe keeping at Salisbury.\nBors then gave to Lancelot the message which his son had sent him, and\nLancelot took him in his arms, saying, \"Gentle cousin, gladly do I\nwelcome you again. Never while we live shall we part, but shall ever be\ntrue friends and brothers while life may last to us.\"\nAnd thus came to an end the marvellous and unparalleled adventure of the\nHoly Grail.\n[Illustration: SALISBURY CATHEDRAL.]\n THE LOVE OF LANCELOT AND GUENEVER.\nCHAPTER I.\nTHE POISONING OF SIR PATRISE.\nAfter the quest of the Sangreal was ended, and all the knights who were\nleft alive had come again to Camelot, there was great joy in the court,\nwith feasts and merrymakings, that this fortunate remnant might find a\nglad welcome. Above all, King Arthur and Queen Guenever were full of joy\nin the return of Lancelot and Bors, both from the love they bore them\nand the special honor they had gained in the quest.\nBut, as is man's way, holy thoughts vanished with the holy task that\ngave them rise, the knights went back to their old fashions and\nfrailties, and in Lancelot's heart his earthly love for the queen soon\nrose again, and his love of heaven and holy thoughts grew dim as the\ndays went by. Alas that it should have been so! for such an unholy\npassion could but lead to harm. To fatal ills, indeed, it led, and to\nthe end of Arthur's reign and of the worshipful fellowship of the Table\nRound, as it is our sorrowful duty now to tell.\nAll this began in the scandal that was raised in the court by the close\ncompanionship between Lancelot and the queen. Whisper of this secret\ntalk at length came to that good knight's ears, and he withdrew from\nQueen Guenever as much as he could, giving himself to the society of\nother ladies of the court, with design to overcome the evil activity of\nslanderous tongues.\nThis withdrawal filled the queen with jealous anger, and she accused him\nbitterly of coldness in his love.\n\"Madam,\" said Lancelot, \"only that love for you clung desperately to my\nheart, and drove out heavenly thoughts, I should have gained as great\nhonor in the quest of the Sangreal as even my son Galahad. My love is\nstill yours, but I fear to show it, for there are those of the court who\nlove me not, such as Agravaine and Mordred, and these evil-thinking\nknights are spreading vile reports wherever they may. It is for this I\nmake show of delight in other ladies' society, to cheat the bitter\ntongue of slander.\"\nTo this the queen listened with heaving breast and burning cheek. But at\nthe end she burst into bitter tears and sobs, and wept so long that\nLancelot stood in dismay. When she could speak, she called him recreant\nand false, declared she should never love him more, and bade him leave\nthe court, and on pain of his head never come near her again.\nThis filled the faithful lover with the deepest grief and pain; yet\nthere was anger, too, for he felt that the queen had shut her ears to\nreason, and had let causeless jealousy blind her. So, without further\nwords, he turned and sought his room, prepared to leave the court. He\nsent for Hector, Bors, and Lionel, and told them what had happened, and\nthat he intended to leave England and return to his native land.\n\"If you take my advice you will do nothing so rash,\" said Bors. \"Know\nyou not that women are hasty to act, and quick to repent? This is not\nthe first time the queen has been angry with you; nor will her\nrepentance be a new experience.\"\n\"You speak truly,\" said Lancelot. \"I will ride, therefore, to the\nhermitage of Brasias, near Windsor, and wait there till I hear from you\nif my lady Guenever changes her mood. I pray you do your best to get me\nher love again.\"\n\"That needs no prayer. Well you know I will do my utmost in your\nbehalf.\"\nThen Lancelot departed in haste, none but Bors knowing whither he had\ngone. But the queen showed no sign of sorrow at his going, however\ndeeply she may have felt it in her heart. In countenance she remained\nserene and proud, as though the world went well with her, and her heart\nwas free from care.\nHer desire, indeed, to show that she took as much joy in the society of\nother knights as in that of Lancelot led to a woful and perilous event,\nwhich we have next to describe. For she gave a private dinner, to which\nshe invited Gawaine and his brethren and other knights, to the number of\ntwenty-four in all. A rich feast it was, with all manner of dainties and\nrare devices. Much was the joy and merriment of the feasting knights.\nAs it happened, Gawaine had a great love for fruits, especially apples\nand pears, which he ate daily at dinner and supper; and all who invited\nhim to dine took care to provide his favorite fruits. This the queen\nfailed not to do. But there was at the feast an enemy of Gawaine's,\nnamed Pinel le Savage, who was a cousin of Lamorak de Galis, and had\nlong hated Gawaine for the murder of that noble knight.\nTo obtain revenge on him, Pinel poisoned some of the apples, feeling\nsure that only Gawaine would eat them. But by unlucky chance a knight\nnamed Patrise, cousin to Mador de la Porte, eat one of the poisoned\napples. So deadly was the venom that in a moment he was in agony, and\nvery soon it so filled his veins that he fell dead from his seat.\nThen was terror and wrath, as the knights sprang in haste and turmoil\nfrom their seats. For they saw that Patrise had been poisoned, and\nsuspicion naturally fell upon the queen, the giver of the feast.\n\"My lady, the queen,\" cried Gawaine in anger, \"what thing is this we\nsee? This fate, I deem, was meant for me, since the fruit was provided\nfor my taste. Madam, what shall I think? Has this good knight taken on\nhimself the death that was intended to be mine?\"\nThe queen made no answer, being so confused and terrified that she knew\nnot what to say.\n\"This affair shall not end here,\" cried Mador de la Porte in great\nwrath. \"Here lies a noble knight of my near kindred, slain by poison and\ntreason. For this I shall have revenge to the utterance. Queen Guenever,\nI hold you guilty of the murder of my cousin, Sir Patrise. I demand from\nthe laws of the realm and the justice of our lord the king redress for\nthis deed. A knight like this shall not fall unrevenged, while I can\nwield spear or hold sword.\"\nThe queen, at this hot accusation, looked appealingly from face to face;\nbut all stood grave and silent, for greatly they suspected her of the\ncrime. Then, seeing that she had not a friend in the room, she burst\ninto a passion of tears, and at length fell to the floor in a swoon.\nThe story of this sad business soon spread through the court, and\nquickly came to the ears of the king, who hastened to the banqueting\nhall full of trouble at what he had heard. When Mador saw him, he again\nbitterly accused the queen of treason,--as murder of all kinds was then\ncalled.\n\"This is a serious affair,\" said the king, gravely. \"I, as a rightful\njudge, cannot take the matter into my own hands, or I would do battle in\nthis cause myself, for I know well that my wife is wrongly accused. To\nburn a queen on a hasty accusation of crime is no light matter, though\nyou may deem it so, Sir Mador; and if you demand the combat, fear not\nbut a knight will be found to meet you in the lists.\"\n\"My gracious lord,\" said Mador, \"you must hold me excused, for though\nyou are our king, you are a knight also, and held by knightly rules.\nTherefore, be not displeased with me, for all the knights here suspect\nthe queen of this crime. What say you, my lords?\"\n\"The dinner was made by the queen,\" they answered. \"She or her servants\nmust be held guilty of the crime.\"\n\"I gave this dinner with a good will, and with no thought of evil,\" said\nthe queen, sadly. \"May God help me as an innocent woman, and visit this\nmurder on the base head of him who committed it. My king and husband, to\nGod I appeal for right and justice.\"\n\"And justice I demand,\" said Mador, \"and require the king to name a day\nin which this wrong can be righted.\"\n\"Be it so, then,\" said the king. \"Fifteen days hence be thou ready armed\non horseback in the meadow beside Winchester. If there be a knight there\nto meet you, then God speed the right. If none meet you, then my queen\nmust suffer the penalty of the law.\"\nWhen Arthur and the queen had departed, he asked her how this case\nbefell.\n\"God help me if I know,\" she answered.\n\"Where is Lancelot?\" asked the king. \"If he were here, he would do\nbattle for you.\"\n\"I know not,\" she replied. \"His kinsmen say he has left the land.\"\n\"How cometh it,\" said the king, \"that you cannot keep Lancelot by your\nside? If he were here your case would be won. Sir Bors will do battle in\nhis place, I am sure. Go seek him and demand his aid.\"\nThis the queen did, begging Bors to act as her champion; but he, as one\nof the knights who had been at the dinner, demurred, and accused her of\nhaving driven Lancelot from the country by her scorn and jealousy.\nThen she knelt and begged his aid, and the king, coming in, also\nrequested his assistance, for he was now sure the queen had been\nunjustly defamed.\n\"My lord,\" answered Bors, \"it is a great thing you require of me, for if\nI grant your request I will affront many of my Round Table comrades. Yet\nfor your and Lancelot's sake I will be the queen's champion on the day\nappointed, unless it may happen that a better knight than I come to do\nbattle for her.\"\n\"Will you promise me this, on your faith?\" asked the king.\n\"I shall not fail you,\" said Bors. \"If a better knight than I come, the\nbattle shall be his. If not, I will do what I can.\"\nThis promise gladdened the king and queen, who thanked Bors heartily,\nand were filled with hope, for they trusted greatly in this good\nknight's prowess and skill.\nBors, however, had other thoughts than they dreamed of, and left the\ncourt secretly, riding to the hermitage of Brasias, where he found\nLancelot and told him of what had occurred.\n\"This happens well,\" said Lancelot. \"The queen shall not suffer. Do you\nmake ready for the battle, but tarry and delay, if I am not there, as\nmuch as you may, till I arrive. Mador is a hot knight, and will be hasty\nto battle. Bid him cool his haste.\"\n\"Leave that to me,\" said Bors. \"Doubt not that it will go as you wish.\"\nMeanwhile the news spread throughout the court that Bors had taken on\nhimself the queen's championship. This displeased the most of the\nknights, for suspicion of the queen was general. On his return many of\nhis fellows accused him hotly of taking on himself a wrongful quarrel.\n\"Shall we see the queen of our great lord King Arthur brought to shame?\"\nhe demanded. \"To whom in the world do we owe more?\"\n\"We love and honor our king as much as you do,\" they answered. \"But we\ncannot love a destroyer of knights, as Queen Guenever has proved\nherself.\"\n\"Fair sirs,\" said Bors, \"you speak hastily, methinks. At all times, so\nfar as I know, she has been a maintainer, not a destroyer, of knights,\nand has been free with gifts and open-handed in bounty to all of\nknightly fame. This you cannot gainsay, nor will I suffer the wife of\nour noble king to be shamefully slain. She is not guilty of Sir\nPatrise's death, for she never bore him ill will, nor any other at that\ndinner. It was for good will she invited us there, and I doubt not her\ninnocence will be proved; for howsoever the game goeth, take my word for\nit, some other than she is guilty of that murder.\"\nThis some began to believe, convinced by his words, but others still\nheld their displeasure, believing the queen guilty.\nWhen at length the day that had been fixed for the battle came, there\nwas a great gathering of knights and people in the meadow beside\nWinchester, where the combat was to take place. But many shuddered when\nthey saw another thing, for an iron stake was erected, and fagots heaped\nround it, for the burning of the queen should Mador win the fight.\nSuch, indeed, was the custom of those days. Neither for favor, for love,\nnor for kindred could any but righteous judgment be given, as well upon\na king as upon a knight, upon a queen as upon a poor lady, and death at\nthe stake was the penalty for those convicted of murder.\nNow there rode into the lists Sir Mador de la Porte, and took oath\nbefore the king that he held the queen to be guilty of the death of Sir\nPatrise, and would prove it with his body against any one who should say\nto the contrary.\nSir Bors followed, and made oath as the queen's champion that he held\nher guiltless, and would prove it with his body, unless a better knight\ncame to take the battle on him.\n\"Make ready then,\" said Mador, \"and we shall prove which is in the\nright, you or I.\"\n\"You are a good knight, Sir Mador,\" said Bors, \"but I trust that God\nwill give this battle to justice, not to prowess.\"\nHe continued to talk and to make delay till Mador called out\nimpatiently,--\n\"It seems to me that we waste time and weather. Either come and do\nbattle at once, or else say nay.\"\n\"I am not much given to say nay,\" answered Bors. \"Take your horse and\nmake ready. I shall not tarry long, I promise you.\"\nThen each departed to his tent, and in a little while Mador came into\nthe field with his shield on his shoulder and his spear in his hand. But\nhe waited in vain for Bors.\n\"Where is your champion?\" cried Mador to the king. \"Bid him come forth\nif he dare!\"\nWhen this was told to Bors he was ashamed to delay longer, and mounted\nhis horse and rode to his appointed place. But as he did so he saw a\nknight, mounted on a white horse, and bearing a shield of strange\ndevice, emerge from a neighboring wood, and come up at all speed. He\ncontinued his course till he came to Sir Bors.\n\"Be not displeased, fair knight,\" he said, \"if I claim this battle. I\nhave ridden far this day to have it, as I promised you when we spoke\nlast. And for what you have done I thank you.\"\nThen Bors rode to the king and told him that a knight had come who would\ndo battle for the queen and relieve him from the championship.\n\"What knight is this?\" asked the king.\n\"All I may say is that he covenanted to be here to-day. He has kept his\nword, and I am discharged.\"\n\"How is this?\" demanded Arthur. \"Sir knight, do you truly desire to do\nbattle for the queen?\"\n\"For that, and that alone, came I hither,\" answered the knight. \"And I\nbeg that there be no delay, for when this battle is ended I must depart\nin haste on other duties. I hold it a dishonor to all those knights of\nthe Round Table that they can stand and see so noble a lady and\ncourteous a queen as Queen Guenever rebuked and shamed among them all.\nTherefore I stand as her champion.\"\nThen all marvelled what knight this could be, for none suspected him.\nBut Mador cried impatiently to the king,--\n\"We lose time here. If this knight, whoever he be, will have ado with\nme, it is time to end words and begin deeds.\"\n\"You are hot, Sir Mador. Take care that your valor be not cooled,\" said\nthe other.\nThey now moved to their appointed stations, and there couched their\nspears and rode together with all the speed of their chargers. Mador's\nspear broke, but the spear of his opponent held, and bore him and his\nhorse backward to the earth.\nBut he sprang lightly from the saddle, and drew his sword, challenging\nthe victor to do battle with him on foot. This the other knight did,\nspringing quickly to the ground, and drawing his sword. Then they came\neagerly to the combat, and for the space of near an hour fought with the\nfury of wild beasts, for Mador was a strong knight, proved in many\nbattles.\nBut at last the strange champion struck his opponent a blow that brought\nhim to the earth. He stepped near him to hurl him flat, but at that\ninstant Mador suddenly rose. As he did so he struck upward with his\nsword, and ran the other through the thick of the thigh, so that the\nblood flowed freely.\nWhen he felt himself wounded he stepped back in a rage, and grasping his\nsword struck Mador a two-handed blow that hurled him flat to the earth.\nThen he sprang upon him to pull off his helm.\n\"I yield me!\" cried Mador. \"Spare my life, and I release the queen.\"\n\"I shall not grant your life,\" said the other, \"only on condition that\nyou freely withdraw this accusation from the queen, and that no charge\nagainst her be made on Sir Patrise's tomb.\"\n\"All this shall be done. I have lost, and adjudge her innocent.\"\nThe knights-parters of the lists now took up Sir Mador and bore him to\nhis tent. The other knight went to the foot of King Arthur's seat. By\nthat time the queen had come thither also, and was heartily kissed by\nher overjoyed lord. Then king and queen alike thanked the victor knight,\nand prayed him to take off his helmet, and drink some wine for\nrefreshment. This he did, and on the instant a loud shout went up from\nall present, for they recognized the noble face of Lancelot du Lake.\n\"Sir Lancelot!\" cried the king. \"Never were you more heartily welcome.\nDeep thanks I and Queen Guenever owe you for your noble labor this day\nin our behalf.\"\n\"My lord Arthur,\" said Lancelot, \"I would shame myself should I ever\nfail to do battle for you both. It was you who gave me the high honor of\nknighthood. And on the day you made me knight I lost my sword through\nhaste, and the lady your queen found it and gave it me when I had need\nof it, and so saved me from disgrace among the knights. On that day I\npromised her to be ever her knight in right or wrong.\"\n\"Your goodness merits reward,\" said the king, \"and therein I shall not\nfail you.\"\nBut as the queen gazed on Lancelot, tears came to her eyes, and she wept\nso tenderly that she almost sank to the ground from sorrow and remorse\nat her unkindness to him who had done her such noble service.\nNow the knights of his blood came around Lancelot in the greatest joy,\nand all the Knights of the Round Table after them, glad to welcome him.\nAnd in the days that followed Lancelot was cured of his wound, and Mador\nput under the care of skilful leeches, while great joy and gladness\nreigned in the court for the happy issue of that combat which had\npromised so fatal an ending.\nAbout this time it befell that Nimue, the damsel of the lake, came to\nthe court, she who knew so many things by her power of enchantment, and\nhad such great love for Arthur and his knights. When the story of the\ndeath of Sir Patrise and the peril of the queen was told her, she\nanswered openly that the queen had been falsely accused, and that the\nreal murderer was Sir Pinel, who had poisoned the apples to destroy\nGawaine, in revenge for the murder of Lamorak. This story was confirmed\nwhen Pinel fled hastily from the court, for then all saw clearly that\nGuenever was innocent of the crime.\nThe slain knight was buried in the church of Westminster, and on his\ntomb was written,--\n\"Here lieth Sir Patrise of Ireland, slain by Sir Pinel le Savage,\nthrough poisoned apples intended for Sir Gawaine.\" And to this was added\nthe story of how Guenever the queen had been charged with that crime,\nand had been cleared in the combat by Sir Lancelot du Lake, her\nchampion.\nAll this was written on the tomb, to clear the queen's good fame. And\ndaily and long Sir Mador sued the queen to have her good grace again.\nAt length, by means of Lancelot, he was forgiven, and entered again into\nthe grace of king and queen. Thus once more peace and good-will were\nrestored to Camelot.\nCHAPTER II.\nTHE LILY MAID OF ASTOLAT.\nIt came to pass that, within fifteen days of the Feast of the\nAssumption, King Arthur announced that a great tournament would be held\non that day at Camelot, where he and the king of Scots would hold the\nlists against all who should come. This tidings went far, and there came\nto Camelot many noble knights, among them the king of North Wales, King\nAnguish of Ireland, the king with the hundred knights, Sir Galahalt the\nhigh prince, and other kings, dukes, and earls.\nBut when Arthur was ready to ride from London, where he then was, to\nCamelot, the queen begged to be excused from going with him, saying that\nshe was not well. Lancelot, too, would not go, on the plea that he was\nnot well of the wound which Sir Mador had given him. So the king set out\nin grief and anger, for the absence of his wife and Lancelot tried him\nsorely. On his way to Camelot he lodged in a town named Astolat, which\nis now known as Gilford, and here he remained for several days.\nBut hardly had he departed before the queen sought Lancelot, and blamed\nhim severely for not going with the king, saying that he thus exposed\nher to slander.\n\"Madam, your wisdom comes somewhat late. Why gave you not this advice\nsooner?\" said Lancelot. \"I will go, since you command it; but I warn you\nthat at the jousts I will fight against the king and his party.\"\n\"Fight as you will, but go,\" said Guenever. \"If you take my counsel,\nhowever, you will keep with your king and your kindred.\"\n\"Be not displeased with me, madam,\" said Lancelot. \"I will do as God\nwills, and that, I fear, will be to fight against the king's party.\"\nSo the knight took horse and rode to Astolat, and here in the evening he\nobtained quarters in the mansion of an old baron, named Sir Bernard of\nAstolat. It happened that this mansion was near the quarters of the\nking, who, as in the dusk he walked in the castle garden, saw Lancelot\ndraw near to Sir Bernard's door, and recognized him.\n\"Aha!\" said the king, \"is that the game? That gives me comfort. I shall\nhave one knight in the lists who will do his duty nobly.\"\n\"Who is that?\" asked those with him.\n\"Ask me not now,\" said the king, smiling. \"You may learn later.\"\nMeanwhile Lancelot was hospitably received by the old baron, though the\nlatter knew not his guest.\n\"Dear sir,\" said Lancelot to his host, \"I thank you for your kindness,\nand I shall owe you deeper thanks if you will lend me a shield. Mine is\ntoo well known, and I wish to fight in disguise.\"\n\"That shall I willingly,\" answered his host. \"I have two sons who were\nlately knighted, and the elder, Sir Tirre, has been hurt. His shield you\nshall have, for it is yet unknown in list or field. As for my younger\nson, Sir Lavaine, he is a strong and likely youth, whom I beg you will\ntake with you. I feel that you must be a champion of renown, and hope\nyou will tell me your name.\"\n\"Not at present, if you will excuse me,\" said Lancelot. \"If I speed well\nat the tournament I will return and tell you. But I shall be glad to\nhave Sir Lavaine with me, and to use his brother's shield.\"\n\"You are welcome to both,\" said Sir Bernard.\nThis old baron had a daughter of great beauty, and in the freshness of\nyouth, who was known in that region as the Fair Maid of Astolat, by name\nElaine le Blank. And when she saw Lancelot her whole heart went out to\nhim in love,--a love of that ardent nature that never dies while she who\nwears it lives.\nLancelot, too, was strongly attracted by her fresh young face, of\nlily-like charm; but he had no love to give. Yet he spoke in tender\nkindness to the maiden, and so emboldened her that she begged him to\nwear her token at the tournament.\n\"You ask more than I have ever yet granted to lady or damsel,\" said\nLancelot. \"If I yield to your wish I shall do more for your love than\nany woman born can claim.\"\n[Illustration: \"YOU ARE WELCOME, BOTH!\" SAID SIR BERNARD.]\nShe besought him now with still more earnestness, and it came to his\nmind that if he wished to go to the lists disguised he could take no\nbetter method, for no one would recognise Lancelot under a damsel's\ntoken.\n\"Show me what you would have me wear, fair maiden,\" he said.\n\"It is a red sleeve of mine,\" she answered, \"a sleeve of scarlet,\nembroidered with great pearls,\" and she brought it to him.\n\"I have never done this for damsel before,\" said Lancelot. \"In return I\nwill leave my shield in your keeping. Pray keep it safe till we meet\nagain.\"\nThen the evening was spent in merry cheer; but that night Elaine slept\nbut lightly, for her slumber was full of dreams of Lancelot, and her\nheart burned with fears that he might come to harm in the lists.\nOn the next day King Arthur and his knights set out for Camelot. Soon\nafterwards Lancelot and Lavaine took leave of Sir Bernard and his fair\ndaughter, while the eyes of Elaine followed the noble form of Lancelot\nfondly and far, as he rode. Both the knights had white shields, and\nLancelot bore with him Elaine's red embroidered sleeve. When they\nreached Camelot they took lodging privately with a rich burgess of the\ntown, that none might know them.\nWhen came Assumption Day, the lists were set, the trumpets blew to the\nfield, the two parties of knights gathered promptly to the fray, and\nfierce was the encounter between them. In the end, after hard fighting,\nthe party of Arthur bore back their opponents, who were headed by the\nkings of Northumberland and North Wales.\nAll this was seen by Lancelot and Lavaine, who sat their horses at a\ndistance looking on.\n\"Come,\" said Lancelot, \"let us help these good fellows, who seem to be\noverpowered.\"\n\"Lead on,\" said Lavaine. \"I shall follow and do my best.\"\nThen Lancelot, with the red sleeve fastened upon his helmet, rode into\nthe thickest of the press, and smote down such numbers of knights with\nspear and sword that the party of the Round Table were forced to give\nback, and their opponents came on with fresh heart. And close upon\nLancelot's track Lavaine smote down several good knights.\n\"Who can this wonderful fighter be?\" asked Gawaine of the king.\n\"I know him well,\" said Arthur, \"but will not name him since he is in\ndisguise.\"\n\"I could believe it was Lancelot,\" said Gawaine, \"but for that red\nsleeve. No man ever saw Lancelot wear a woman's token.\"\n\"Let him be,\" said Arthur. \"He will be better known before he is done.\"\nThen nine knights of Lancelot's kindred, angry at seeing this one\nchampion beat down all before him, joined together and pressed hotly\ninto the din, smiting down all that opposed them. Three of them--Bors,\nHector, and Lionel--spurred together on Lancelot, all striking him at\nonce with their spears. So great was their force that Lancelot's horse\nwas hurled to the ground, and his shield pierced by Bors, whose spear\nwounded him in the side, breaking and leaving its head deep in the\nflesh.\nSeeing this misfortune, Lavaine spurred fiercely on the king of the\nScots, thrust him from his horse, and, in despite of them all, brought\nthat horse to Lancelot, and helped him to mount. Then, though so sorely\nhurt, Lancelot drew his sword, and, aided by Lavaine, did such deeds of\narms as he had never surpassed in his hours of greatest strength. As the\nchronicles say, that day he unhorsed more than thirty knights; and\nLavaine followed his example well, for he smote down ten Knights of the\nRound Table in this his first tournament. So does a noble example stir\nyoung hearts.\n\"I would give much to know who this valiant knight can be,\" said\nGawaine.\n\"He will be known before he departs,\" answered Arthur. \"Trust me for\nthat.\"\nThen the king blew to lodging, and the prize was given by the heralds to\nthe knight with the white shield who bore the red sleeve. Around\nLancelot gathered the leaders on his side, and thanked him warmly for\ngaining them the victory.\n\"If I have deserved thanks I have sorely paid for them,\" said Lancelot,\n\"for I doubt if I escape with my life. Dear sirs, permit me to depart,\nfor just now I would rather have repose than be lord of all the world.\"\nThen he broke from them and galloped away, though his wound forced\npiteous groans from his steadfast heart. When out of sight of them all\nhe checked his horse, and begged Lavaine to help him dismount and to\ndraw the spear-head from his side.\n\"My lord,\" said Lavaine, \"I would fain help you; yet I fear that to draw\nthe spear will be your death.\"\n\"It will be my death if it remains,\" said Lancelot. \"I charge you to\ndraw it.\"\nThis Lavaine did, the pain being so deadly that Lancelot shrieked and\nfell into a death-like swoon, while a full pint of blood gushed from the\nwound. Lavaine stopped the bleeding as well as he could, and with great\ntrouble got the wounded knight to a neighboring hermitage, that stood in\nfront of a great cliff, with a clear stream running by its foot.\nHere Lavaine beat on the door with the butt of his spear, and cried\nloudly,--\n\"Open, for Jesus' sake! Open, for a noble knight lies bleeding to death\nat your gate!\"\nThis loud appeal quickly brought out the hermit, who was named Baldwin\nof Brittany, and had once been a Round Table knight. He gazed with pity\nand alarm on the pale face and bleeding form before him.\n\"I should know this knight,\" he said. \"Who is he?\"\n\"Fair sir,\" said Lancelot, feebly, \"I am a stranger and a knight-errant,\nwho have sought renown through many realms, and have come here to my\ndeadly peril.\"\nAs he spoke the hermit recognized him, by a wound on his pallid cheek.\n\"Ah, my lord Lancelot,\" he said, \"you cannot deceive me thus.\"\n\"Then, if you know me, help me for heaven's sake. Relieve me from this\npain, whether it be by life or death.\"\n\"I shall do my best,\" said the hermit. \"Fear not that you will die.\"\nThen he had him borne into the hermitage, and laid in bed, his armor\nbeing removed. This done, the hermit stanched the bleeding, anointed the\nwound with healing ointments, and gave Lancelot a refreshing and healing\ndraught.\nMeanwhile King Arthur invited the knights of both parties to a great\nevening feast, and there asked the king of North Wales to bring forward\nthe knight of the red sleeve, that he might receive the prize he had\nwon.\n\"That I cannot do,\" was the answer. \"He was badly, if not fatally,\nwounded, and left us so hastily that we know not whither he went.\"\n\"That is the worst news I have heard these seven years,\" said Arthur. \"I\nwould rather lose my throne than have that noble knight slain.\"\n\"Do you know him?\" they all asked.\n\"I have a shrewd suspicion who he is; and I pray God for good tidings of\nhim.\"\n\"By my head,\" said Gawaine, \"I should be sorry enough to see harm come\nto one that can handle spear and sword like him. He cannot be far away,\nand if he is to be found I shall find him.\"\n\"Fortune aid you in the quest,\" said the king.\nThen Gawaine took a squire, and they rode in all directions for six or\nseven miles around Camelot, but could learn nothing of the missing\nknight. Two days afterwards Arthur and his fellowship set out on their\nreturn to London. On their way they passed through Astolat, and here it\nhappened that Gawaine lodged with Sir Bernard, Lancelot's former host.\nHe was well received, and the old baron and his fair daughter begged him\nearnestly for tidings of the tournament, being specially eager to know\nwho had done best there.\n\"Two knights bore all before them,\" said Gawaine. \"Both carried white\nshields, and one wore on his helmet a red sleeve, as some fair lady's\ntoken. Never saw I a man before do such mighty deeds, and his fellow\nseconded him nobly.\"\n\"Blessed be God that that knight did so well,\" broke out Elaine, \"for he\nis the first man I ever loved, and shall be the last.\"\n\"You know him then?\" said Gawaine. \"Pray tell me his name.\"\n\"That I know not, nor whence he came; but this I truly know, that I love\nhim, and that the token he wore was mine. This, and this only, I can\njustly affirm.\"\n\"This is a strange story,\" said Gawaine. \"What knowledge have you of\nhim? and how came you to know him?\"\nIn response, she told him how the knight had left his shield with her,\nand taken that of her brother, with what else she knew.\n\"I would thank you much for a sight of that shield,\" said Gawaine.\n\"I have it in my chamber, covered with a case, and will send for it,\"\nsaid Elaine.\nWhen the shield was brought Gawaine removed the case, and at sight he\nknew it to be Lancelot's shield.\n\"Ah, mercy!\" said Gawaine, \"the sight of this makes my heart heavy.\"\n\"Why so?\" she demanded.\n\"For good cause,\" he answered. \"Is the owner of this shield your love?\"\n\"Truly so,\" she replied. \"I love him dearly; would to God he loved me as\ndearly.\"\n\"Then must I say that you have given your love to the noblest and most\nrenowned knight in the world.\"\n\"So it seemed to me; for he carries a noble soul in his face.\"\n\"This I may say,\" said Gawaine. \"I have known this knight for more than\ntwenty years, and never knew him before to wear a woman's token at joust\nor tournament. You owe him thanks, indeed, that he wore yours. Yet I\ndread greatly that you will never see him again, and it is for this that\nmy heart is heavy.\"\n\"Why say you so?\" she cried, starting up with pallid face. \"Is he hurt?\nIs he slain?\"\n\"Not slain; but sadly hurt. This more it is my duty to tell you: he is\nthe noble knight, Sir Lancelot du Lake. I know him by his shield.\"\n\"Lancelot! Can this be so? And his hurt--who gave it? Is it really\nperilous?\"\n\"Had the knight who wounded him known him, he would have been grieved\nalmost to death. As for Sir Lancelot, I can tell you nothing more. On\nreceiving his hurt he left the lists with his comrade, and cannot be\nfound. He is somewhere concealed.\"\n\"Then shall I go seek him!\" cried Elaine. \"Give me leave to do so, dear\nfather, if you would not have me lose my mind. I shall never rest till\nI find him and my brother, and nurse him back to health.\"\n\"Go, daughter, if you will,\" said her father, \"for I am sick at heart to\nhear such tidings of that noble knight.\"\nIn the morning Gawaine rejoined King Arthur, and told him of what he had\nlearned.\n\"I knew already it was Lancelot,\" said the king; \"but never before knew\nI him to wear woman's token.\"\n\"By my faith, this lily maiden of Astolat loves him deeply,\" said\nGawaine. \"What it means I cannot say, but she has set out to seek him,\nand will break her heart if she fail to find him.\"\nAnd so they rode on to London, where Gawaine made known to the court\nthat it was Lancelot who wore the red sleeve and won the prize at the\ntournament.\nThis tidings made no small trouble in the court. Bors and his kinsmen\nwere heavy at heart when they learned that it was Lancelot whom they had\nso hotly assailed. And Queen Guenever was beside herself with anger on\nlearning that it was Lancelot who had worn the red sleeve at the\ntournament.\nMeanwhile Elaine journeyed to Camelot in search of the wounded knight,\nand as she sought far and near about the town, sick at heart, it chanced\nthat she espied her brother Lavaine, as he rode out to give his horse\nair. She called loudly to him, and when he came up asked him,--\n\"How does my lord, Sir Lancelot?\"\n\"Who told you, sister, that my lord's name was Lancelot?\"\nShe told him how she had learned this, and they rode together to the\nhermitage, where Lavaine brought her in to see the wounded knight.\nBut when she saw him lying there so sick and pale, and with a death-like\nhue upon his face, she stood gazing upon him with dilated eyes and\nwhitening face, and then suddenly fell to the floor in a deep swoon.\n\"I pray you, Lavaine, take her up and bring her to me,\" said Lancelot.\nWhen she was brought near him he kissed her pale face, and at the touch\nof his lips her cheeks flamed out with red, and life came back to her.\n\"Fair maiden,\" said Lancelot, \"it pains me to see you so deeply\nafflicted. Comfort yourself, I pray you. If you come here to my aid you\nare truly welcome; but let not this little hurt trouble you; I shall\nsoon be well of it.\"\nThen they fell into discourse, and Elaine told Lancelot how Gawaine had\nseen and known his shield. This gave him no small trouble, for he knew\nwell that the story of the red scarf would get to Queen Guenever's ears,\nand he feared its effect on her hasty and jealous temper. But Elaine\nnever left Lancelot, but watched him day and night, nursing him back to\nhealth.\nCHAPTER III.\nHOW ELAINE DIED FOR LOVE.\nWhen Sir Bors learned that his unlucky blow had brought Lancelot nearly\nto death's door, he became sore indeed at heart, and hastened to Camelot\nin search of his noble kinsman. Here he met Lavaine, who knew him and\nconducted him to the bedside of the wounded knight.\nWhen he saw the pale and haggard countenance of Lancelot, he fell into a\npassion of tears, and accused himself bitterly. But Lancelot consoled\nhim as well as he could, declaring that the fault was his own, and that\nhe would bear the blame. Then Bors told him of the anger of the queen,\nand of his earnest but vain endeavor to overcome it.\n\"I deserve it not,\" said Lancelot. \"I wore the sleeve only by way of\ndisguise. As for Gawaine, he would have shown more wisdom and friendship\nhad he been less free of speech.\"\n\"I told her all this,\" said Bors, \"but she was past listening to reason.\nIs this maiden, who is so busy about you, she whom they call the lily of\nAstolat?\"\n\"She it is,\" said Lancelot. \"I cannot by any means put her from me.\"\n\"Why should you?\" asked Bors. \"She is a beautiful and tender-hearted\ndamsel. Would to God, fair cousin, you could love her, for I see well,\nby her gentle and close care of you, that she loves you devoutedly.\"\n\"That I am sorry for,\" said Lancelot.\n\"She will not be the first that has loved you in vain,\" said Bors; \"the\nmore the pity.\"\nMany other things they talked of, and Lancelot found such comfort in the\npresence of Sir Bors that in a few days he showed great signs of\nimprovement. Then Bors told him of another tournament that King Arthur\nhad ordered, to be held at Camelot on All-hallowmas day, between his\nparty and that of the king of North Wales.\nThis filled Lancelot with an earnest desire to grow strong, and during\nthe following month, under the kind care of his cousin, and the gentle\nministrations of Elaine, he improved greatly in health. For Elaine\nwaited upon him with loving diligence night and day, and never was child\nor wife more gentle and heedful to father or husband than this fair maid\nof Astolat to the wounded knight.\nAt length came a day when Lancelot felt so much stronger, through the\nhealing influence of a bath of herbs which the hermit had gathered in\nthe woods, that he determined to try if he could wear his armor and sit\nin his saddle. He thereupon armed and had his horse brought out.\nMounting the mettled charger, in the high spirit of new health he\nspurred it to full speed.\nBut the courser's long rest in the stable had made it fresh and fierce,\nand on feeling the spurs it leaped forward so violently that Lancelot's\nwound burst open in the strain, and the blood gushed out again.\n\"Bors! Lavaine! help!\" he feebly cried. \"I am come to my end.\"\nAs he spoke he fell from his horse to the earth, and lay there like a\ncorpse.\nThe two knights hurried up, full of fearful concern, and when Elaine,\nwho had heard the pitiful call, came flying to the spot, she threw\nherself on the prostrate form, weeping like one beside herself with\ngrief, and kissing the insensible knight as if she hoped thus to recall\nhim to life.\n\"Traitors you are!\" she cried wildly to her brother and Sir Bors. \"Why\ndid you let him leave his bed? I hold you guilty of his death.\"\nAt this moment the hermit Baldwin appeared. When he saw Lancelot in that\nplight he grew angry at heart, though he checked the reproachful words\nthat rose to his lips.\n\"Let us have him in,\" he said, briefly.\nLancelot was thereupon carried to the hermitage, his armor removed, and\nthe bleeding stanched, but it was long before he could be brought out of\nhis death-like swoon.\n\"Why did you put your life thus in jeopardy?\" asked the hermit,\nreproachfully, when the knight was again in his senses.\n\"I was too eager to attend the tournament, now near at hand,\" he said.\n\"Ah, Sir Lancelot, you have more courage than wisdom, I fear. As for the\ntournament, let Sir Bors attend it and do what he may. By the time it is\nover and he returned, I hope that you may be well once more, if you will\nbut be governed by my advice.\"\nThis advice was taken and Bors went to the tournament, where he bore\nhimself so valorously that the prize was divided between him and\nGawaine. Gareth and Palamides also did noble deeds, but they departed\nsuddenly before the prize was declared, as if called away by some\nadventure.\nAll this Lancelot heard with great pleasure from Bors on his return, his\nonly regret being that he had not been able to take part in that\nknightly sport. But the remedies of the hermit and the care of Elaine\nhad meanwhile done him wonderful service, and he was soon able again to\nmount his horse and wear his armor in safety.\nA day, therefore, quickly came when the knight felt himself in condition\nfor a journey, and when he and his companions took the road to Astolat,\nescorting the fair Elaine back to her father's home. Here they were\ngladly received by the old baron Bernard, and his son Tirre, who had now\nrecovered.\nBut when the time approached which Lancelot had set for his departure,\nElaine grew pale and drooping. At length, with the boldness of speech of\nthat period, she came to him and said,--\n\"My lord Sir Lancelot, clear and courteous sir, will you then depart,\nand leave me alone with my love and sorrow? Have mercy on me, I pray\nyou, and suffer me not to die of grief.\"\n\"What would you have me do?\" asked Lancelot.\n\"I brought you back to life; give me your love in return; make me your\nwedded wife, and I will love you as never woman loved.\"\n\"That can I never do,\" said Lancelot, gravely. \"I shall never wed.\"\n\"Then shall I die for your love.\"\n\"Think not of death, Elaine. If I could marry woman it would be you,\nfor I could love you dearly were my heart free. For your gentleness and\nkindness thus only can I repay you. If you can set your heart upon some\nworthy knight who is free to wed you, I shall give to you and your heirs\na thousand pounds yearly, as some small payment of the debt I owe you.\"\n\"You speak idly and coldly, Sir Lancelot. Your money I will have none\nof; and as for wedding, I have but the choice to wed you or wed my\ndeath.\"\n\"You rend my heart, fair Elaine. Would that it could be as you wish.\nAlas! that can never be.\"\nAt this, with a cry of heart-pain, the distressed maiden fell swooning\nat his feet. Thence she was borne by women to her chamber, where she\nlay, lamenting like one whose heart is broken.\nSir Bernard now came to Lancelot, who was preparing to depart, and\nsaid,--\n\"Dear sir, it grieves me to find my daughter Elaine in such a\ndistressful state. I fear she may die for your sake.\"\n\"It grieves me as deeply,\" said Lancelot. \"But what can I do? That she\nloves me so deeply I am sorry to learn, for I have done nothing to\nencourage it, as your son can testify. I know that she is a true and\nnoble maiden, and will do all that I can for her as an honest knight;\nbut love her as she loves me I cannot, and to wed I am forbidden. Yet\nher distress wounds me sorely.\"\n\"Father,\" said Lavaine, \"I dare avow that she is as pure and good as my\nlord Sir Lancelot has said. In loving him she does but what I do, for\nsince I first saw him I could never depart from him; nor shall I leave\nhim so long as he will bear my company.\"\nThen Lancelot took his leave, and he and Lavaine rode together to\nCamelot, where Arthur and the whole court received the errant knight\nwith the utmost joy and warmest welcome. Queen Guenever alone failed to\ngreet him kindly, her jealous anger continuing so bitter that she would\nnot give him a word or a look, seek as he would.\nBut the joy and brightness at Camelot were replaced by darkness at\nAstolat, for the fair Elaine was in such sorrow day and night that she\nneither ate, drank, nor slept; and ever she sadly moaned and bewailed\nthe cruelty of Sir Lancelot.\nTen days of this brought her so near her end, that her old father, with\nsad heart, sent for the priest to give her the last sacraments. But even\nthen she made her plaints of Lancelot's coldness so mournfully, that the\nghostly father bade her cease such thoughts.\n\"Why should I?\" she cried. \"Am I not a woman, with a woman's heart and\nfeelings? While the breath is in my body I must lament my fate; for I\nhold it no offence to love, and take God to witness that I never have\nand never can love other than Lancelot du Lake. Since it is God's will\nthat I must die from unrequited love of so noble a knight, I pray for\nhis mercy and forgiveness of all my sins. Never did I offend deeply\nagainst God's laws; but it was not in my nature to withstand the fervent\nlove that is bringing me to my death.\"\nThen she sent for her father and brother, and prayed them to write a\nletter as she might dictate. This they did, writing down the mournful\nwords which she spoke.\n\"Now,\" she said, \"this more I command you to do. When I am dead, put\nthis letter in my right hand before my body grows cold. Then see that I\nbe richly dressed and laid in a fair bed, and take me in a chariot to\nthe river Thames. There lay my body in a barge, covered with black\nsamite, and with but one man to steer the barge down the river to\nCamelot.\"\nAll this they, weeping sadly, agreed to do, and soon afterwards the\nmaiden died, slain by her love. Her sad old father then had all done as\nshe had requested.\nMeanwhile, in Camelot the world moved merrily. But one morning, by\nfortune, as King Arthur and Queen Guenever stood talking at a window,\nthey espied a black barge drifting slowly down the river. Wondering much\nwhat it meant, the king called Sir Kay and two other knights, and sent\nthem to the river, bidding them to bring him speedy word of what the\nbarge contained.\nThis they did. On reaching the river-side they found that the barge had\nbeen turned inward, and lay beside the bank, and to their surprise they\nsaw in it a rich bed, on which lay the corpse of as fair a woman as they\nhad ever beheld. In the stern of the barge sat, with oar in hand, a poor\nman who seemed dumb, for no word would he speak.\n\"That corpse must I see,\" said the king, when word of this event was\nbrought him. \"Surely this betokens something strange.\"\nHe took the queen by the hand and went to the river-side with her. Here\nthe barge had been made fast, and they stepped from the shore to its\ndeck. There they saw the corpse of a beautiful maiden, dressed in costly\nattire, and lying in a bed which was richly covered with cloth of gold.\nAnd as she lay she seemed to smile.\nThe queen now espied a letter clasped closely in her right hand, and\nshowed it to the king.\n\"That will surely tell us who she is, and why she has come hither,\" he\nsaid.\nHe thereupon took the letter and returned with the queen to the palace.\nHere, surrounded by many knights, he broke the seal, and gave the\nepistle to a clerk to read. This was its purport,--\n\"Most noble knight, Sir Lancelot, now hath death made us two at debate\nfor your love. I was your lover, she whom men called the Fair Maid of\nAstolat; therefore unto all ladies I make my moan, and I beg you to pray\nfor my soul, and at the least to bury me, and offer my mass-penny. This\nis my last request. God is my witness that I die a pure maiden. Pray for\nmy soul, Sir Lancelot, as thou art peerless.\"\nWhen this pitiful letter had been read, all who heard it shed tears, for\nnever had they heard aught so moving. Then Lancelot was sent for and the\nletter read to him.\n\"A sorrowful thing is this,\" he said, in grievous tones. \"Then she is\ndead, the fair Elaine, and thus, with silent lips, makes her last\nprayer. Truly it wounds me to the heart. Yet, my lord Arthur, God knows\nI had no just share in the death of this maiden, as her brother here,\nSir Lavaine, can testify. She was fair and good, and I owed her much,\nbut she loved me beyond measure, and her love I could not return.\"\n\"You might have shown her,\" said the queen, reprovingly, \"some bounty\nand gentleness, and thus have preserved her life.\"\n\"Madam,\" said Lancelot, \"naught would she have but my love, and my hand\nin marriage. I offered to endow her with a thousand pounds yearly, if\nshe should love and wed any other, but to this she would not listen. As\nfor me, I had no other comfort to give her, for love cannot be\nconstrained, but must rise of itself from the heart.\"\n\"Truly must it,\" said the king. \"Love is free in itself, and will not be\nbound, for if bonds be placed upon it, it looseth itself perforce. As\nfor this unhappy maiden, nothing is left for you but to obey her last\npitiful request.\"\n\"That shall I to the utmost of my power,\" said Lancelot.\nThen many knights and ladies went to behold the fair maiden, who had\ncome thither in such moving wise. And in the morning she was richly\ninterred, and with all due honor, at Lancelot's command; and he offered\nher mass-penny, as did all the knights who were there present.\nThen the poor dumb servitor returned again with the barge, rowing it\nslowly and sadly back to Astolat.\nAfterwards the queen sent for Lancelot, and begged his pardon humbly for\nher causeless anger.\n[Illustration: ELAINE.]\n\"This is not the first time,\" said Lancelot, \"that you have been\ndispleased with me without cause. What you will, I must bear, and keep\nmy sorrow within my heart; yet I would that your love were less tainted\nby hasty jealousy. As for forgiving you, what else can I do, my queen?\nLove cannot live without forgiveness.\"\nAfter these events the winter and spring passed on, with hunting and\nhawking, and jousts and tournaments, and the fate of the fair Elaine was\nwellnigh forgotten in the joy of the court. But her brother Lavaine\ngained great honor, and at a tournament that was given on Candlemas day\ndid so nobly that the king promised he should be made a Knight of the\nRound Table at the next feast of Pentecost.\nAnd at this tournament Lancelot again fought in disguise, wearing a\nsleeve of gold of the queen's, and did such deeds that the prize was\nadjudged to him. Thus a second time did he wear a woman's token in the\nlists.\nCHAPTER IV.\nTHE CHEVALIER OF THE CART.\nThe year passed on from Candlemas till after Easter, and then came the\nmonth of May, when every lusty heart begins to blossom and to bear\nfruit; for as herbs and trees flourish in May, so does the heart of a\nlover, since in this lusty month all lovers gain courage, calling to\ntheir minds old vows and deeds of gentleness, and much that was\nforgotten in the winter's chill.\nAs winter always defaces and erases green summer, so fares it with\nunstable love in man and woman. But as May flowers and flourishes in\nmany gardens, so flowers the lover's heart in the joy of her to whom he\nhas promised his faith. Yet nowadays men cannot love seven days without\ntheir love cooling; for where love warms in haste it cools as hastily;\nthus fareth it in our days,--soon hot, soon cold. The old love was not\nso. Men and women could love together seven years in truth and\nfaithfulness. Such was the way of love in King Arthur's days; but love\nnowadays I liken unto summer and winter; now hot, now cold, like the\nchanging seasons. Therefore all ye who are lovers call to your\nremembrance the month of May, like as did Queen Guenever, who while she\nlived was a true lover, and therefore she had a good end.\nSo it befell in the month of May that Queen Guenever called unto her\ncertain knights of the Round Table, inviting them to ride with her in\nthe early morn a-maying in the woods and fields beside Camelot.\n\"And see that you all be well horsed,\" she said, \"and clad in green,\neither in silk or cloth. I shall bring with me ten ladies, and every\nknight shall have a lady behind him, and bring with him a squire and two\nyeomen.\"\nAnd so, when morning came, the ten knights invited put on their gayest\nrobes of green, and rode with the queen and her ladies, a-maying in the\nwoods and fields, to their great joy and delight.\nYet this pleasure party led to sad results, as we have now to tell. For\nthere was a knight named Meliagrance, son of King Bagdemagus, who had a\ncastle, the gift of King Arthur, within seven miles of Camelot. This\nknight loved the queen, and had done so for many years, and it had long\nbeen in his heart to steal her away; but he had never been able to find\nher without many knights about her, and, chief of all, Sir Lancelot.\nWhen he heard of this Maying party, and that the queen would be attended\nby only ten knights, and these in green robes, he resolved to carry out\nhis base design, and therefore placed in ambush twenty men-at-arms and a\nhundred archers.\nSo it happened that while the queen and her knights were merrily\narraying one another in flowers and mosses, and with wreaths made of\nsprays of fresh green, this false knight rode suddenly from a wood near\nby, followed by a throng of armed men, and bade them stand, and yield up\nthe queen on peril of their lives.\n\"Traitor knight,\" cried Guenever, \"what seek you to do? Wouldst thou, a\nking's son, and a knight of the Round Table, seek to dishonor the noble\nking who made you what you are? You shame yourself and all knighthood;\nbut me you shall never shame, for I had rather cut my throat than be\ndishonored by you.\"\n\"Madam, this language will avail you nothing,\" said Meliagrance. \"I have\nloved you many a year, and now that I have you at advantage will take\nyou as I find you.\"\n\"You must kill us first, unarmed as we are,\" cried the queen's knights.\n\"You have taken us at a foul disadvantage; but you shall not have the\nqueen so lightly as you deem.\"\n\"Fight, will you? Then fight it, if you will have it so,\" said\nMeliagrance.\nThen the ten knights drew their swords, and the others spurred upon them\nwith couched spears. But so skilfully did the queen's defenders use\ntheir blades that the spears did them no harm.\nThe battle then went on with swords, and the ten knights did noble\ndeeds, slaying many of their assailants; yet they were so overmatched\nthat they soon were all stretched upon the earth with bleeding wounds.\n\"Sir Meliagrance,\" cried the queen, in deep distress, \"kill not my noble\nknights, I pray you. If you do them no more harm I will go with you, if\nyou will take them with me. Otherwise I will slay myself before you\nshall take me.\"\n\"Madam, since you wish it, they shall be taken to my castle, whither you\nmust come with me.\"\nThen at the queen's command the battle ceased, and the knights had their\nwounds dressed. But Meliagrance watched keenly that none of the company\nshould escape, for greatly he feared that news of this outrage might be\nborne to Lancelot du Lake.\nBut there was with the queen a little page who rode a swift horse, and\nto him she privily spoke.\n\"Slip away, when you see the chance,\" she said, \"and bear this ring to\nLancelot du Lake. Tell him what has happened, and pray him as he loves\nme to come in haste to my rescue. Spare not your horse, and stay not for\nland or water.\"\nThe page took the ring, and rode carelessly to the edge of the circle.\nThen, seeing his opportunity, he put spurs to his horse and rode away at\nfull speed. When Meliagrance saw this he ordered instant pursuit, and\nthe boy was hotly chased and fired at with arrows and javelins; yet the\nspeed of his horse soon carried him beyond danger.\n\"Madam,\" cried Meliagrance, fiercely, to the queen, \"you are plotting to\nbetray me. But if you have sent for Lancelot du Lake, he shall find the\nroad to you a perilous one, I warrant him.\"\nAnd as they rode to the castle he placed an ambush of thirty archers by\nthe road-side, charging them if they saw a knight come that way on a\nwhite horse to slay the horse. But he warned them not to assail him in\nperson, as they would find him hard to overcome.\nThis done, the party proceeded to the castle; but here the queen would\nnot let her ladies and knights out of her presence, and Meliagrance\nstood in such dread of Lancelot that he dared not use force.\nIn the mean time the page found Lancelot, and gave him the queen's ring\nand message, telling him the whole story of the treacherous assault.\n\"I would give all France to have been there well armed,\" cried Lancelot.\n\"The queen shall be saved, or I will die in the effort. Haste you to Sir\nLavaine and tell him where I have gone, and bid him follow me to\nMeliagrance's castle. Tell him to come quickly, if he wishes to have a\nhand in the rescue of the queen and her knights.\"\nLancelot was hastily arming as he spoke, and mounting, he rode with all\nspeed, forcing his horse to swim the Thames in his haste. In no great\ntime he reached the spot where the fight had taken place, and where he\nfound the garlands the knights had worn, rent with sword-strokes and\nreddened with their blood. Then he followed the tracks of the party till\nhe entered a narrow passage, bordered by a wood. Here were the archers\nstationed, and when Lancelot came by they bade him return, for that way\nwas closed.\n\"Why should I turn?\" he demanded. \"Whence get you the right to close the\nway?\"\n\"If you go forward it will be on foot, for we shall kill your horse.\"\n\"Go forward I shall, if there were five hundred more of you,\" said\nLancelot.\nThen a cloud of arrows whistled through the air, and the noble horse,\nstruck by a dozen shafts, fell to the earth. Lancelot leaped lightly\nfrom the falling animal, and rushed in a rage into the wood; but there\nwere so many hedges and ditches that he found it impossible to reach his\nlight-armed assailants.\n\"Shame on this Meliagrance for a dastard!\" he cried in anger. \"It is a\ntrue old saw that a good man is never in danger but from a coward.\"\nThe angry knight, finding that his assailants were beyond his reach, set\nout on foot for Meliagrance's castle, but found himself so encumbered\nwith his armor, shield, and spear, that his progress was but slow. Yet\nhe dared not leave any of his arms, for fear of giving his foe an\nadvantage.\nAt length, by good fortune, there appeared on the road a cart, that was\nused for hauling wood.\n\"Tell me, friend carter,\" said Lancelot, when the vehicle came near,\n\"what shall I give you for a ride in your cart to a castle that lies a\nfew miles away?\"\n\"You can give me nothing,\" said the carter. \"I am sent to bring wood for\nmy lord, Sir Meliagrance, and it is not my fashion to work for two at\nonce.\"\n\"It is Sir Meliagrance I seek.\"\n\"Then go on foot,\" said the carter, surlily. \"My cart is for other\nwork.\"\nIncensed at this, Lancelot dealt the fellow a blow with his mailed fist\nthat stretched him senseless on the ground. Then he turned to the\ncarter's comrade.\n\"Strike me not, fair sir,\" pleaded this fellow. \"I will bring you where\nyou wish.\"\n\"Then drive me and this cart to the gate of Meliagrance's castle.\"\n\"Leap into the cart, and you shall be there before the day grows old.\"\nThis Lancelot did, and the carter lashed his horse forward with all\nspeed, for he was in mortal fear of the knight's hard fist.\nAn hour and a half afterwards, as Guenever and her ladies stood in a\nwindow of the castle, they saw a cart approaching, in which stood\nupright an armed knight, resting on his spear. Even at that distance\nthey knew him by his shield to be Lancelot du Lake.\n\"A noble and trusty friend he is, indeed, to come in such a fashion,\"\nsaid the queen. \"Hard bested he must have been, to be forced to ride\nhither in a woodman's cart.\"\nAs they looked, the cart came to the castle gates, and Lancelot sprang\nfrom it to the ground, his heart full of rage and passion.\n\"Where art thou, traitor?\" he cried, in a voice that rang throughout the\ncastle. \"Come forth, thou disgrace to the Round Table fellowship! Come,\nwith all your men; for here am I, Lancelot du Lake, who will fight you\nall single-handed on this question.\"\nAs he spoke he thrust the gates open with such force that the porter,\nwho sought to hold them shut, was hurled like a dead man to the earth.\nWhen Meliagrance in the castle heard this loud defiance his cowardly\nsoul sank within him, for well he knew from whom it came, and he ran in\nhaste to the queen and fell on his knees before her, begging her to\nforgive him and to cool the wrath of Lancelot. So pitifully did he\nimplore, that in the end Guenever was moved to compassion, and went with\nher ladies to the castle court, where Lancelot stood furiously bidding\nthe traitor knight to come down and do battle.\n\"Why are you so moved, Lancelot?\" asked the queen.\n\"Why should I not be?\" he cried, in a rage. \"The hound has killed my\nhorse and stolen my queen. Is this the thing to bear like a lamb?\"\n\"He sorely repents his fault, and has moved me to forgive him,\" said the\nqueen. \"Come in, then, peaceably, I beg you, for I have passed my word.\"\n\"You accord easily with this dog of a kidnapper,\" said Lancelot,\nsourly. \"Had I looked for this I might have spared my haste and saved my\nhorse.\"\n\"It is not through love or favor I have forgiven him,\" said the queen,\n\"but to check the voice of scandal.\"\n\"I am no fonder of scandal than yourself,\" said Lancelot. \"Yet if I had\nmy will I would make this fellow's heart full cold before I left this\ncastle.\"\n\"I know that well, but beg that you will be ruled by me in this affair.\"\n\"Let it be so, if you have passed your word. But you are too soft of\nheart Queen Guenever.\"\nThen she took his hand, for he had taken off his gauntlet, and led him\ninto the castle, and to the chamber in which lay the ten wounded\nknights, whose hearts warmed at his coming. From them he learned in full\nwhat had occurred, a story which stirred his blood again into such a\nflame, that only the soft hand of the queen hindered him from seeking\nMeliagrance through the castle to slay him.\nAs they stood talking, Sir Lavaine rode furiously in at the gate,\ncrying,--\n\"Where is my lord, Sir Lancelot du Lake?\"\n\"Here I am,\" cried Lancelot from a window. \"All is well, Lavaine.\"\n\"I found your horse slain with arrows, and judged you were hard pushed.\"\n\"As for that, Lavaine, soft words have turned hard blows. Come in. We\nshall right this matter at another time, when we best may.\"\nFor many a day thereafter, as the French book says, Lancelot was called\nthe Chevalier of the Cart, and many an adventure he had under that\nhomely name.\nAll went peacefully that night at the castle, but the next morning there\nwas new trouble. For one of the castle maidens brought word to\nMeliagrance that she had found what seemed to be the print of a bloody\nhand on the coverings of the queen's bed. Thither he hurried, full of\njealous anger, and found what appeared, indeed, to be the crimson print\nof a man's hand. On seeing this he made a loud outcry, declaring that it\nwas the blood of one of the wounded knights, and fiercely accused\nGuenever of having been false to her lord King Arthur.\nWhen word of this accusation came to the wounded knights they were\nfilled with indignation, and cried that they would meet Meliagrance or\nany man in the lists in defence of the queen's honor.\n\"Ye speak proudly,\" said Meliagrance. \"Yet look here, and see if I have\nnot warrant for what I say.\"\nWhen he showed them the red witness of his words they were abashed, and\nknew not what to answer.\nAll this was told to Lancelot, and he came in haste and anger to the\nqueen's chamber.\n\"What is this?\" he demanded.\n\"It is that the queen has proved false to her lord and husband, and this\nI stand ready to prove with my body,\" said Meliagrance.\n\"Beware what you say, sir knight,\" cried Lancelot, \"or you will find\nyour challenge taken.\"\n\"My lord Lancelot,\" answered Meliagrance, \"good knight as you are, take\nheed how you do battle in a wrong quarrel, for God will have a hand in\nsuch a cause.\"\n\"This I say,\" answered Lancelot, hotly, \"that you accuse the queen\nwrongly, and these noble knights as falsely. This is the work of treason\nor magic.\"\n\"Hold,\" said Meliagrance; \"here is my glove, in proof that she is\ntraitress to the king, and that one of these wounded knights is her\nleman.\"\n\"I accept your challenge,\" said Lancelot, \"and will fight you to the\ndeath in this cause. When shall we do battle?\"\n\"Let it be in eight days from this,\" said Meliagrance, \"in the field\nbeside Camelot.\"\n\"I am agreed,\" said Lancelot.\n\"Then let us go to dinner,\" said Meliagrance, \"and afterwards you and\nthe queen and her knights may ride to Camelot.\"\nYet fairly as he spoke his heart was full of treachery, and before going\nto the table he asked Lancelot if he would care to see the rooms and\npassages of the castle.\n\"If you wish to show them,\" said Lancelot.\nThen they went from chamber to chamber, Lancelot having no fear of peril\nor thought of treason. But as they traversed a long and dark passage the\nfalse-hearted host trod on a spring, and down fell a trap-door, giving\nLancelot a fall of more than ten fathoms into a dark cell, whose floor\nwas covered deeply with straw. This done, Meliagrance hastened away,\nafter replacing the trap, and ordered one of his men to remove Lavaine's\nhorse from the stable.\nWhen the knights came to dinner all were surprised that Lancelot was not\npresent.\n\"Is this one of his old tricks?\" asked the queen. \"He has a fashion of\nthus departing suddenly, without warning.\"\n\"But not on foot,\" said Lavaine, and left the room.\nWhen he returned, it was to say that his horse had vanished from the\nstable, and that doubtless Lancelot had taken it and ridden off. So they\nsat quietly at dinner, and afterwards set out for the court, the wounded\nknights being carried under care of Lavaine, in easily litters.\nWhen the court was reached, and Arthur was told of what had occurred, he\nwas full of wrath.\n\"So this traitor Meliagrance chooses first to kidnap my queen, and then\nto accuse her of treason?\" he cried. \"By my crown, I would deal with him\nin another fashion only that Lancelot has taken the challenge. I fancy\nthe fellow will have his hands full, without my care. But where is\nLancelot?\"\n\"That we know not,\" said the knights. \"It is like him to go off in this\nhasty way. He took Sir Lavaine's horse, and left us without a word of\nparting.\"\n\"Let him he,\" said the king. \"He will come in good time,--unless he be\ntrapped by some treachery.\"\nLittle dreamed they of Lancelot's true situation at that moment. He had\nbeen sorely bruised by his fall, and lay in great pain in the cave,\nvisited only by a lady, who came to him daily with food. Yet it\nhappened, as had occurred so often to Lancelot, that the lady fell in\nlove with his handsome face. Meliagrance had made a foolish choice in\nsending a woman with a soft heart to his prisoner, and was likely to pay\ndearly for his folly. Yet days passed on, and Lancelot continued deaf to\nher sighs and blind to her languishing looks.\n\"Sir Lancelot,\" she at length said, \"do you not know that your lady,\nQueen Guenever, will be burnt at the stake unless you be there at the\nday of battle?\"\n\"God forbid that such a disaster should come to pass!\" cried Lancelot.\n\"Yet if I should not be there, all men of worship will know that I am\ndead, sick, or in prison, for men know me well enough to know that\nnothing less would keep me away. Therefore, some knight of my blood or\nof my fellowship will take up this battle, and fight bravely in the\nqueen's cause.\"\n\"I shall set you free, Sir Lancelot, to fight your own battle, if you\nwill but give me your love; for truly I love you with my whole heart.\"\n\"I am sorry that I cannot return it,\" said Lancelot. \"But I cannot lie\nto you in such a cause, even for life or honor.\"\n\"Take heed what you say, Sir Lancelot. Shame will be your lot if any but\nyou fight this battle.\"\n\"As for the world's shame, may Christ defend me. As for my distress of\nheart, it is welcome, if God sends it.\"\nThe lady went away full of sorrowful thoughts. But on the morning of the\nday fixed for the battle she came to him again, and said, gently,--\n\"Sir Lancelot, I deem you hard-hearted and cruel; yet I love you too\ntruly to see you disgraced. If you will solace my heart-pain with but\none kiss, I will set you free, and deliver to you your armor, and the\nbest horse in the castle stables.\"\n\"Surely there is no dishonor in a kiss; and well will you earn it by\nsuch service,\" said Lancelot. \"You offer me new life, fair lady.\"\nThen he kissed her; and with a face half glad, half gloomy, she led him\nfrom the prison by a secret passage to the chamber where his armor had\nbeen left. And when he was armed she conducted him privily to a stable\nwhere stood twelve good horses, and bade him make his choice.\nLancelot chose a white courser, whose size and spirit pleased him most,\nand this he deftly saddled and bridled. Then, with spear in hand and\nsword by side, he commended the lady to God, saying,--\n\"Lady, for this good deed I shall do you ample service if ever it be in\nmy power. If not, may God reward you.\"\nThis said, he rode with proud mien from the castle, and galloped at\nheadlong speed away, while she, with sad eyes and sighing lips, stood\nlooking with loving regard on his departing form.\nSadly was his coming needed, for imminent was the peril of the queen. At\nthe place fixed for the combat knights and lords had early gathered, and\nMeliagrance, feeling sure that Lancelot could not appear to do battle,\nput on a haughty mien, and loudly demanded justice, or the combat. Yet\nthe hour appointed came and passed, and the queen's champion had not\nappeared; while the king and all the court grew full of pain and dread\nas the fatal moments went by. The laws were strict, and could not be set\naside for queen or commoner. Guenever must perish at the stake, or be\nsaved by a champion's sword and spear. Therefore, as the minutes slowly\ngrew into hours, and nothing of Lancelot was seen, while Meliagrance\nmore loudly demanded justice or a champion, all hearts sank deep in\ndespair.\n\"My lord the king,\" cried Lavaine, at length, \"some sad misfortune has\nhappened to Sir Lancelot. Never did he fail to appear to do battle\nunless he were sick or in prison. I beseech you, therefore, give me\nleave this day to do battle for him, and to strike a knightly blow for\nmy lady the queen.\"\n\"Thanks, gentle knight,\" said the king. \"I dare avow that the charge\nwhich Meliagrance lays upon the queen is a false one, for of these ten\nwounded knights who were present, there is not one but would gladly do\nbattle to prove its falsity were he able to wear armor.\"\n\"That shall I do in the service of my lord Lancelot,\" said Lavaine, \"if\nyou will give me leave.\"\n\"Full leave you have,\" answered the king. \"I pray you do your best; for\nit seems sure that some treachery has been done to the noble Lancelot.\"\nLavaine now armed in all haste, and, mounting his war-courser, rode into\nthe lists, where he faced Meliagrance, challenging him to do battle to\nthe death.\n\"Lesses les aller!\" cried the heralds.\nThe two champions couched their spears, clutched their bridles, and were\nabout to plunge the spurs into their horses' flanks, when the sound of\nhoofs was heard without, and an armed knight came galloping at furious\nspeed into the lists.\n\"Ho! and abide!\" cried King Arthur.\n\"Raise your spears, sir knights, this quarrel is mine,\" said the\nnew-comer. \"You have my thanks, Lavaine, but only I must fight in this\ncause.\"\nThen he rode to the king, lifted his visor, and showed the noble face of\nLancelot, now hot with indignation.\n\"I am here to fight this villain and traitor,\" he called, loudly. \"My\nlord the king, I have lain these eight days in a prison cell, into which\nthe base hound entrapped me. By fortune I escaped, and here I am, ready\nto pay him in fitting coin for his foul treachery.\"\n\"The dog! has he done this thing?\" cried the king, in anger. \"Then, by\nmy crown, whether he win or not Guenever shall not suffer from the\ncharge which he has dared bring. But God's justice will not let him\nwin.\"\nThat Meliagrance quaked at heart on seeing this seeming apparition from\nthe grave need not be said. But he had dared the hazard of the die, and\nsat his horse in grim silence while his foul treachery was thus made\nknown to the court. Lancelot now rode to his place in the lists, and\nfaced his adversary.\n\"Lesses les aller!\" cried the heralds again.\nThen, spear in rest, the warriors spurred their horses, and met with a\nshock like thunder in the centre of the field. Lancelot kept his saddle,\nbut Meliagrance was hurled over his horse's croup. Seeing this, Lancelot\nlightly sprang from his saddle, drew his sword, and advanced upon his\nfoe, who was on his feet ready to meet him.\nHot and fierce was the combat that succeeded, many great strokes being\ngiven and returned; but at length Lancelot struck so fierce a blow that\nMeliagrance was felled to the ground. Then the dastard cried aloud in an\nagony of fear,--\n\"Noble knight, noble Sir Lancelot, spare my life, I humbly pray you! I\nyield me as overcome and recreant and beseech you, as a Knight and\nFellow of the Round Table, not to slay me helpless. Alive or dead, I put\nmyself in your hands and the king's.\"\nLancelot stood looking grimly down upon him, at a loss what to do. To\nslay him was the wish of his heart; yet it looked like murder to kill a\npraying wretch. In his doubt he turned towards the queen, and she nodded\nher head as if to bid him kill the villain.\n\"Rise, sir hound,\" cried Lancelot. \"You shall fight this battle to the\nutterance.\"\n\"I will never rise,\" said Meliagrance, \"till you grant me mercy as a\nyielding and recreant knight.\"\n\"Coward!\" cried Lancelot. \"If you fear to fight me as I am, I will give\nyou odds in the combat. I will take off my armor from my head and the\nleft side of my body, and let them bind my left hand behind me, and\nfight you with my right hand alone.\"\nAt this perilous offer Meliagrance started hastily to his feet, and\nloudly cried,--\n\"My lord Arthur, you have heard this offer! I accept it. Let him be\ndisarmed and bound as he says.\"\n\"You do not mean to keep this foolish promise, Lancelot?\" demanded the\nking.\n\"That do I,\" said Lancelot. \"I shall not go back on my word, be it wise\nor foolish.\"\n\"Then so let it be; but you invite death by such a reckless compact.\"\nThe attendant knights thereupon removed Lancelot's helmet, and took from\nhim his shield and the armor from his left side. They then bound his\nleft arm behind him, and thus arrayed he was placed before his\nantagonist, whose heart burned with hope and with murderous designs.\nAll those who looked on were full of fear for Lancelot, deeming it the\nheight of folly that he should take such a frightful risk, while many\nladies closed their eyes, in dread to see him slain.\nWith the inspiration of hope, Meliagrance came up, bearing his sword\nuplifted, while Lancelot stood with his head and side fully open to his\nstroke. Down came the blade with a deadly sweep that caused many men to\nclose their eyes, sure that the knights head would be cleft in twain.\nBut Lancelot had no such thought. With a light swing to the right he\navoided the stroke, which cut idly through the air; then, stepping\nforward to give effect to the blow, he swung his own blade upward with\ngiant strength, and brought it down on Meliagrance's helmet with such\nmighty force that the hard steel and the head it covered were shorn in\ntwain, and the traitor knight fell dead upon the field.\nWild were the shouts of joy and triumph at this unlooked-for end to the\ncombat. The king sprang from his seat and rushed into the lists, where\nhe warmly clasped Lancelot in his arms; while Guenever, in joy at her\ndeliverance, kissed him on both cheeks; and all the knights crowded\naround them with glad cries and warm congratulations.\nAs for Meliagrance, he was given the burial of a recreant and traitor,\nthe cause of his death being inscribed on his tomb, that all might read\nhis dishonor.\nBut for Sir Lancelot, the king and queen made more of him, and felt more\nlove for him in their hearts, than ever before.\nAfter this time many events of interest took place of which we have\nlittle space to speak. Among them, Lancelot healed the wounds of a\nknight of Hungary, named Sir Urre, who had been held in pain, through\nsorcery, for seven years, till his wounds should be touched by the best\nknight in the world. This knight had a lovely sister, named Felelolie,\nwhom Lavaine married, whereupon King Arthur made him a Knight of the\nRound Table, and gave him a barony of land.\nAs for Lancelot, he gained great fame as the Chevalier of the Cart. For\nas many lords and ladies made sport of him as the knight who had ridden\nin a cart, like one sentenced to the gallows, for a whole twelvemonth he\nnever mounted horse, but rode only in a cart, during which time he had\nmany adventures and fought forty battles, in all of which he came off\nvictor.\nAnd so the days grew into years, and all went happily at Arthur's court,\nthough each passing day brought the coming time of woe and disaster\nnearer to hand.\nCHAPTER I.\nTHE TRAPPING OF THE LION.\nIn May, when every lusty heart flourisheth and bourgeoneth,--for as\nwinter, with its rough winds and blasts, causes man and woman to cover\nand sit fast by the fire, this fresh and joyous season brings them forth\nto gladden in the coming of the flowery summer,--in this rare month of\nMay, when only merry thoughts and gentle deeds should be known, there\nbegan a great and unhappy season of wrath, which ended not till the\nflower of chivalry of all the world was destroyed. And this all came\nabout through the hate and jealousy of two unhappy knights, Sir\nAgravaine and Sir Mordred, brothers unto Sir Gawaine.\nFor much in their secret souls they hated the queen and Lancelot, and\nthey fell to watching this good knight daily and nightly, with the hope\nof bringing him in some way to shame.\nFailing in this base endeavor, they no longer concealed their enmity,\nbut began to talk openly of the love of Lancelot for the queen, and to\nhint that shameful relations existed between them. The report of this\nslanderous talk coming to Gawaine's ears, he reproved them sharply for\nindulging in such base and unworthy scandal, in which he was joined by\nhis brothers Gareth and Gaheris.\n\"You forget what Lancelot has done for you,\" said Gawaine. \"Who but he\nrescued you both when held in prison by Sir Turquine? And many other\nthings he has done in your favor. Methinks such kind deeds merit better\nreturn than this.\"\n\"Think as you will,\" said Agravaine, \"I have my opinions and shall hide\nthem no longer.\"\nAs they thus debated King Arthur approached.\n\"Now, brothers, stint your noise,\" said Gawaine.\n\"That will we not,\" they replied.\n\"Then the devil speed the pair of you, if you are bent on mischief! I\nwill listen to no more of your slanderous talk.\"\n\"Nor will we,\" said Gareth and Gaheris. \"We owe too much to Lancelot to\nlisten to the false tales of evil tongues.\"\nWith this they turned and walked away in anger and grief, as Arthur came\nup.\n\"What is this?\" asked the king. \"Is there bad blood between you\nbrethren?\"\n\"They do not care to hear the truth,\" said Agravaine, \"but to my fancy\nit has been kept too long from your knowledge. We are your sister's\nsons, King Arthur, and it is our duty to be honest and open with you.\"\n\"What would you say?\" asked the king.\n\"Simply what we and all your court know well, that there are such doings\nbetween Lancelot and your queen as are a disgrace to this realm of\nEngland. He is a traitor to your person and your honor, and this we\nstand ready to prove.\"\n\"This is a perilous charge you make,\" said Arthur, deeply moved. \"Nor am\nI ready to believe such a tale on your mere word. You have gone far,\ngentlemen; too far, I deem, without abundant proof.\"\n\"My lord,\" said Mordred, \"we speak not without due warrant, and proof\nyou shall have. What we advise is, that you ride out to the hunt\nto-morrow. Lancelot, you will find, will have some excuse to hold back.\nThen, when night draws near, send word to the queen that you will lie\nout all that night. Let this be done, and we promise you we shall take\nhim with the queen. If we do it will go hard with Lancelot; for we shall\nnot lightly see our king brought to shame.\"\n\"Be it so,\" said the king, after deep thought, for he was little\ninclined to believe ill of Lancelot. \"I will do as you say. Understand,\nsir knights, I have heard all this before; yet I believe it not, and I\nconsent to your scheme only to put an end to the vile voice of scandal.\"\nOn the next morning, as agreed upon, Arthur rode to the hunt; but\nLancelot excused himself, as his enemies had predicted, on the plea that\nhe was in no mood for the chase. When night came near a messenger from\nthe king brought word to Guenever that the hunting party had been drawn\nfar away, and would not return that night.\nMeanwhile Mordred and Agravaine selected twelve knights, all of them\nenemies of Lancelot, to whom they told their purpose, and set them on\nguard in the castle of Carlisle, where the court then was. Of Lancelot's\nfriends few were in the court, for nearly all had gone with the king to\nthe hunt.\nWhen night came, Lancelot told Bors, who dwelt with him, that he had a\nfancy to go and speak with the queen.\n\"Do not go to-night, I pray you,\" said Bors.\n\"Why not to-night?\"\n\"I fear some plot of that rogue, Agravaine, who has it in his heart to\nwork you ill. I have heard a whisper, and fear that the king's absence\nto-night is part of a plot, and that an ambush is laid to do you harm.\"\n\"Have no dread of that,\" said Lancelot. \"I wish only some minutes'\nconversation with the queen, and will quickly return again.\"\n\"I should rather you would not go. I am in doubt that some evil may come\nof it.\"\n\"Why say you this nephew? Do you deem that I am a coward, or that the\nqueen is my mistress, as the evil-tongued say? I go because she has sent\nfor me, desiring to see me. Am I the man to deny her request because\nthere are foul-mouthed slanderers abroad?\"\n\"Go, then, since I see you will. God speed you, and send you back safe\nand sound.\"\nLancelot thereupon wrapped himself in his mantle, and taking his sword\nunder his arm made his way to the castle, which was some distance from\nhis residence. Here he sought and entered the queen's chamber, where she\nawaited him with her ladies.\nBut no sooner had he done so, and scarcely had he spoken a word to his\nroyal lady, than Mordred, Agravaine, and their followers burst in tumult\nfrom the chamber in which they had been concealed, and loudly\nexclaimed,--\n\"Traitor knight! Lancelot du Lake, false and caitiff wretch, now art\nthou taken in thy treason!\"\nSo loud they cried that their voices rang throughout the court, and they\ncrowded round the door of the queen's chamber, bent on taking Lancelot\nunarmed, and slaying him at the feet of Guenever. Fortunately the door\nwas of solid oak, and a damsel of the queen had hastily shot the bolts.\n\"Alas!\" cried the queen, \"what vile plot is this? Mischief is around us,\nLancelot!\"\n\"Is there any armor in your chamber?\" asked Lancelot. \"If so, give it to\nme, and I will face this malicious crew.\"\n\"There is none,\" said the queen. \"I see no hope, and fear our love has\ncome to a fatal end. There seems to be a host of armed knights without.\nThey will kill you, Lancelot, and death will come to me through their\nvile charge of unchastity.\"\n\"Why did I not even wear as much of my armor as I fought Meliagrance\nwith!\" cried Lancelot, in distress. \"If I had but listened to Sir Bors!\nNever was I caught in such a trap before.\"\nAs they spoke the tumult without increased, and Mordred and Agravaine\ncried together,--\n\"Come out, thou traitor knight! Think not to escape, for we have you\nlike a rat in a trap. Come out and meet your just deserts.\"\n\"Shall I bear this?\" cried Lancelot, flaming into anger. \"The dogs! a\ndozen of them in armor against one man in his mantle! I would rather\nmeet death at once than stand and hear their reviling tongues.\"\nThen he took the queen in his arms and kissed her, saying,--\n\"Most noble Christian queen, I beseech you, as you have ever been my\nspecial good lady, and I your poor knight, and as I never failed you in\nright or wrong since the day that King Arthur made me knight, that you\nwill pray for my soul if I be here slain. For you may be sure that Sir\nBors and my other kindred, with Lavaine and others of my friends, will\nrescue you from harm, and I beg you to go with them and live like a\nqueen on my lands.\"\n\"That will I not, Lancelot,\" said the queen. \"If you are slain for me,\nthen death may come when it will, for I shall not live long to mourn\nyou.\"\n\"Then, since my last hour seems to have come, and our love and life must\ncease together, so let it be; but some of those barking curs shall go\nwith me to the shades. I am heavier at heart for you than for myself.\nAh, that I had but a knight's armor!\"\n\"I would that God would be content with my death, and suffer you to\nescape,\" said the queen.\n\"That shall never be,\" said Lancelot. \"God defend me from such a shame.\nAnd now may the Lord Jesus be my shield and my armor.\"\nThis said, he wrapped his mantle around his arm, and approached the\ndoor. As he did so the strong oaken portal trembled under their blows,\nfor they had got a great form out of the hall, and were using it as a\nbattering-ram.\n\"Save your trouble, you crew of mischief,\" said Lancelot. \"Think you\nthat Lancelot du Lake needs to be come at like a rabbit in its hutch? I\nfear you not, and dread not to face an army of such hounds.\"\n\"Come out, then, or let us into that chamber. It avails you nothing to\nstrive against us all; but we will promise to spare your life till we\nhave brought you to King Arthur.\"\n\"Will you?\" said Lancelot, \"or do you think to slay me where I stand? I\ntrust you not, liars.\"\nThen he unbarred the door and with his left hand held it open a little,\nso that but one man could enter at a time. As he did so, Colgrevance of\nGore, who stood nearest, pressed forcibly through the opening, and\nstruck a spiteful blow at Lancelot with his sword. This Lancelot\nparried, and returned so fierce a stroke with his own good blade, that\nhe cut through the helmet and skull of the knight, and stretched him\ndead upon the floor.\nThen, with all his great strength, he dragged the bleeding corpse within\nthe chamber, closed the door against the pressure of all who bore upon\nit, and replaced the bars. \"So much for this daring fool,\" he cried.\n\"Thank heaven, I have an armor now! I shall not be quite a sheep at the\nshambles.\"\nAs he spoke he was hastily stripping the armor from the body of the dead\nknight. This done, he quickly arrayed himself in it, with the aid of the\nqueen and her ladies.\nMeanwhile the assault on the door continued, and Mordred and Agravaine\nkept up their cry,--\n\"Traitor knight! come out of the queen's chamber!\"\n\"Hold your peace,\" cried Lancelot. \"You shall not prison me here, I\npromise you that, and if you take my counsel, you will depart. I am\nready to agree on my knighthood to appear to-morrow before the king, and\nanswer there that I came not to the queen with any evil purpose; and\nthis I stand ready to prove by word or deed.\"\n\"Out on you, traitor!\" cried Mordred. \"Have you, we will, and slay you\nif we wish, for the king has given us the choice to save you or slay\nyou.\"\n\"Is that your last word, sirrahs? Then keep yourselves, for I am not of\nthe breed that die easily.\"\nAs he spoke, he flung down the bars and threw the door wide open. Then\nhe strode proudly and mightily among them, sword in hand and clad in\nfull armor, and at the first blow from his mighty hand stretched\nAgravaine dead upon the floor. Like a maddened lion that charges upon a\nherd of sheep, he now rushed upon them, striking fiercely to right and\nleft, and felling men with every blow, till in a little while twelve\nmore of his assailants lay cold in death, for there was not a man of\nthem all could stand one blow from his powerful arm.\nOf the whole party only Mordred remained alive, and he fled wounded with\ncraven haste. Then Lancelot, leaning on his blood-dripping sword, turned\nto the queen, who stood looking at his deeds of might, with white lips\nand starting eyes.\n[Illustration: Copyright by Frederick Hollyer, London, England.\nSIR LANCELOT IN THE QUEEN'S CHAMBER.]\n\"All is at an end now,\" he said. \"Henceforth King Arthur is my foe, and\nI am like a wolf at bay. Yet I fear your enemies will work you fatal\nharm, and would have you go with me, and let me be your\nknight-protector.\"\n\"That I dread to do,\" said the queen, \"for vile slander would follow my\nfootsteps. I had better face my foes. If they devise to put me to death,\nthen you may come to my rescue, and no one then can blame me for going\nwith you.\"\n\"That shall I do,\" said Lancelot. \"And I promise to make such havoc\namong all men who mean you harm as I have done among those who lie\nhere.\"\nThen he kissed her, and each gave the other a ring; and so he left the\nqueen and went to his lodgings.\nCHAPTER II.\nTHE RESCUE OF THE QUEEN.\nLittle sleep came that night to Lancelot and his friends. For when he\ncame again to Bors, he had found him, with others of his kindred, armed\nand ready to come to his rescue. They listened with concern and\nindignation to Lancelot's story of how he had been entrapped, and heard\nwith knightly joy the story of his bold discomfiture of his foes.\nBut it was evident to them all that the event was one of the greatest\nmoment; that enmity would exist between Lancelot and the king, and that\nGuenever might be adjudged to the stake on the charge of infidelity to\nher lord.\nTherefore Bors took it upon himself to gather in Lancelot's defence all\nhis kindred and friends; and by seven o'clock of the next morning he had\ngained the word of twenty-two Knights of the Round Table. To these were\nadded knights of North Wales and Cornwall, who joined Lancelot for\nLamorak's and Tristram's sake, to the number of fourscore.\nTo these Lancelot told all that had occurred, and expressed his fear of\nArthur's hostility.\n\"I am sure of mortal war,\" he said, \"for these knights claimed to have\nbeen sent and ordained by King Arthur to betray me, and I fear the king\nmay, in his heat and malice, condemn the queen to the fire. Trust me,\nthat I will not suffer her to be burnt for my sake. She is and has been\never a true lady to her lord, and while I live she shall not become a\nvictim to the malice of her enemies.\"\nThe assembled knights agreed with him in this decision, and promised\ntheir utmost aid in his purpose of rescue.\n\"Rescue her I shall, whoever may be hurt; and I trust to heaven that no\nfriend of mine will aid the king to her injury. But if I rescue her,\nwhere shall I keep her?\"\n\"Did not the noble Sir Tristram, with your good will, keep La Belle\nIsolde three years in Joyous Gard, against the malice of King Mark?\"\nsaid Bors. \"That place is your own; and there, if the king adjudge the\nqueen to the stake, you may keep her till his heat shall cool. Then you\nmay bring her home with worship, and gain Arthur's thanks.\"\n\"That may not work so well as you fancy,\" said Lancelot. \"You remember\nwhat a return Tristram got from King Mark.\"\n\"That is another story,\" replied Bors. \"You know well that Arthur and\nMark are men of different mould. Mark could smile and play the traitor;\nbut no man living can say that King Arthur was ever untrue to his word.\"\nTheir conference over, by the advice of Lancelot the knights put\nthemselves in ambush in a wood as near Carlisle as they could secretly\napproach. And there they remained on guard, waiting to learn what the\nking might do.\nMeantime Mordred, though wounded by Lancelot's sword, had managed to\nmount his horse, and rode in all haste to tell the king of the bloody\nend of the ambush. On hearing the story, Arthur's mind was divided\nbetween anger and pain.\n\"It grieves me sorely that Lancelot should be against me,\" he said; \"and\nmuch I fear that the glorious fellowship of the Round Table is broken,\nfor many of our noblest knights will hold with him. But dishonor must\nnot rest upon England's crown. The queen has played me false, and shall\nsuffer death for her treason to her wifely duty.\"\nFor the law was such in those days, that all, of whatever estate or\ndegree, found guilty of treason, should suffer death. And so it was\nordained in Queen Guenever's case--since thirteen knights had been\nslain, and one escaped sore wounded, in defending the king's honor--that\nshe should be taken to the stake, and there be burnt to death as a\ntraitress.\n\"My lord Arthur,\" said Gawaine, \"let me counsel you not to be over\nhasty in this severe judgment, for as I take it the guilt of the queen\nis not proved. That Lancelot was found in the queen's chamber I admit;\nbut he might have come there with no evil purpose. You know how he has\nbeen for years her chosen knight, and how much he has done for her. She\nmay have sent for him privily, to avoid scandal, for conference on some\ninnocent subject. What we do for the best often turns to the worst, and\nI dare affirm that my lady the queen is, and has always been, faithful\nand true to her lord. As for Lancelot, I doubt me not he will make good\nwhat I have said with word and body, against any and all that question\nor oppose.\"\n\"That I believe,\" said the king. \"I know Lancelot's way. But his\nboldness does not prove the queen's innocence. For her he shall never\nfight again, for she shall suffer the penalty of the law. And if I can\nlay my hands on him, he shall die the shameful death he richly merits.\"\n\"Then may Christ save me from ever seeing it,\" said Gawaine.\n\"Why say you this?\" demanded the king, angrily. \"You have no cause to\nlove him. Last night he killed your brother Agravaine, and here is\nMordred sorely wounded. He also slew two of your sons, Sir Florence and\nSir Lovel.\"\n\"I know all that. But I gave them warning beforehand of what would\nhappen if they meddled in this affair. They brought this fate on\nthemselves. As for Agravaine, he stirred up this scandalous business,\nand has got his deserts.\"\n\"Say no more,\" cried the king, in hot indignation. \"I am resolved. The\nhonor of Arthur's wife must be above suspicion. She has fallen from\nchastity and shall die the death. As for you, Gawaine, I bid you arm in\nyour best armor, with your brethren Gareth and Gaheris, and bring her to\nthe fire, that she may there hear her judgment, and receive the death\nshe merits.\"\n\"No, my most noble lord, that shall I never do,\" said Gawaine. \"No man\nshall say that I had aught to do with the death of this worthy lady, or\ngave my word in favor of her death.\"\n\"Then bid your brothers, Gareth and Gaheris, attend.\"\n\"They are young, and may not withstand your will; but they shall not be\nthere by my counsel,\" said Gawaine, stoutly.\n\"We must attend, if you command us,\" said Gareth and Gaheris to the\nking. \"But it will be sorely against our wills. If come we must, it\nshall be in peaceful guise, and without warlike array.\"\n\"Come as you will,\" said the king. \"This I say, she shall have judgment\nthis day.\"\n\"Alas! that I have ever lived to see this woful day!\" said Gawaine,\nsadly, and as he turned away the tears ran hotly from his eyes.\nBut the king was bitterly set in his deadly purpose, and no sooner had\nhe reached Carlisle than he gave command that the queen should at once\nbe led to the place of execution, there to be burned as a traitress.\nWhen this fatal decision was known in the castle there was weeping and\nwailing and wringing of hands from many lords and ladies, while of the\nknights there present, few would consent to wear armor to compass the\nqueen's death.\nBut Arthur's commands none dared question, and the unhappy lady was\nshriven by her ghostly father, and bound to the fatal stake. In a circle\naround her stood a guard of armed knights, while others were present\nwithout armor. But the king was not there; nor would Gawaine show\nhimself at that shameful scene.\nThen fire was set to the fagots that surrounded the stake. But as the\nflames began to curl upwards there came a shrill bugle-blast from a\nneighboring wood, and of a sudden Lancelot and his knights broke from\ntheir ambush, and rode upon those about the fire, striking right and\nleft at all who bore arms and withstood them.\nDown went the guard of knights before this fierce onset, till full\ntwenty of them lay dead on the field. But by sad fortune, as Lancelot,\nin his warlike fury pressed hither and thither, cutting and slashing\nwith the hot rage of the berserker, he by mishap struck the two unarmed\nknights, Gareth and Gaheris, and stretched them dead upon the field.\nThis was in the thick of the fray, and he knew not what he had done, for\nrather would he have slain himself than harmed these, his faithful\nfriends. A few minutes sufficed to kill or disperse all the guard. Then\nLancelot sprang from his horse, scattered the blazing fagots with his\nfoot, and with a blow of his sword severed the bonds that fastened\nGuenever to the stake.\nThe unhappy lady fell, weeping, into his arms, thanking him in broken\naccents. With all due haste he mounted her on a horse that had been\nprovided, and rode off with her and his following of gallant knights to\nJoyous Gard, strong of heart and stout of frame, and resolved to fight\nfor her to the death, for more than ever he felt himself her chosen\nknight.\nAnd when word went through the country round that Arthur and Lancelot\nwere at odds, many a good knight rode in all haste to his castle, bent\non taking his side in the coming war.\nBut when the news was brought to Arthur of how Lancelot had rescued the\nqueen, and slain many of his knights, and in particular Gareth and\nGaheris, his anger turned to such bitter sorrow and regret that he\nswooned from pure grief. And when he came to his senses again he deeply\nmoaned, and reproached himself for the evil that had befallen.\n\"Alas! that I ever wore the crown!\" he bewailed. \"Within these two days\nI have lost forty knights, and, above all, the noble fellowship of\nLancelot and his kindred, and all because I listened to the tongue of\nfoul detraction. Alas! that ever this fatal thing began! Fair friends,\nsee that none of you tell Gawaine of what has happened, for he loves\nGareth so deeply that I fear, when he hears of his death, he will go out\nof his mind. How came Lancelot to slay these knights, who both loved him\ndevotedly?\"\n\"He would never have harmed them had he known them,\" said a knight. \"It\nwas in the midst of the hurtling and fierce struggling, when swords\nstrike they know not where. Sad he will be when he learns what he has\ndone.\"\n\"I am heavier for the loss of my knights than of my queen,\" said\nArthur, sadly. \"Other queens may be had, but such a fellowship of\nknights can never be brought together again. And this I know, that when\nGawaine learns of Gareth's death, he will never rest, nor suffer me to\nrest, till I have destroyed Lancelot and his kindred, or they have\ndestroyed me. Ah, Agravaine, Agravaine, Jesus forgive thy soul for thy\nevil will, for thou and thy brother Mordred have caused all this bitter\nsorrow.\"\nWhile the king thus complained, a tale-bearer, unheeding his\ninjunctions, came to Gawaine big with his story, and told him of the\nrescue of the queen, and the death of a knightly host.\n\"What else could Lancelot do?\" said Gawaine. \"I should have done as much\nmyself had I stood in his place. But where are my brothers? Why hear I\nnot of them?\"\n\"Truly,\" said the man; \"they are both killed.\"\n\"Now, Jesus forbid! What! both? Is Gareth slain? Dare you tell me so?\"\n\"Alas! the pity of it!\"\n\"Killed! Who killed him?\"\n\"Sir Lancelot slew them both.\"\n\"That is false. Gareth loved him better than he did me or the king. He\nwould have joined him against us all, had Lancelot desired. And he was\nunarmed. Dare you repeat this story?\" and he caught the man fiercely by\nthe shoulders and glared wildly in his face.\n\"Sir, it is so noised abroad,\" said the man.\n\"Then is all joy gone from my life,\" moaned Gawaine, and he fell to the\nfloor in a deep swoon, in which he lay long like one dead.\nBut when Gawaine recovered, and had sought the king, and learned that\nhis two brothers had been killed, unarmed and defenceless, his sorrow\nchanged to bitter and revengeful anger.\n\"My king, my lord, and my uncle,\" he sternly said, \"I vow by my\nknighthood that I shall never forgive Lancelot for this murderous deed,\nbut from this day forth shall remain his deadly foe, till one of us has\nslain the other. War to the death it shall be, and if you aid me not I\nshall seek Sir Lancelot alone, if it be through seven kings' realms,\ntill I hold him to answer for this deed of blood.\"\n\"You shall not need to seek him so far,\" said the king. \"They say that\nLancelot awaits us in Joyous Gard, and that many knights have joined\nhim.\"\n\"Well is it so,\" said Gawaine fiercely. \"Then my lord Arthur, gather\nyour friends, and I will gather mine. Say not that deeds like this shall\ngo unpunished in England's realm. Your justice defied! My unarmed\nbrothers murdered! Shall this be done, and we basely submit?\"\n\"You speak to the point,\" said the king. \"We must strike for honor and\nrevenge. Strong as Lancelot's castle is, and bold as are his friends, I\nfancy I can gain strength enough to draw him out of the strongest tower\nin it.\"\nThen King Arthur sent orders far and wide through the land, and in brief\ntime there came to Carlisle many knights, dukes, and earls, so that he\nhad a great host. These the king informed of what had happened, and of\nhis purpose to force Lancelot to yield up his queen, and to punish him\nfor his trespass.\nLancelot meanwhile, was not idle, but drew to himself, many more\nknights, and provisioned his castle fully, for he well knew that he must\nabide behind walls, as he was far too weak to meet the king's host in\nthe field.\nNot many days had elapsed when King Arthur and Gawaine with a great host\nof men, laid siege about Joyous Gard, both the town and the castle, and\nwar replaced the peace that had reigned so long in the land.\nBut Lancelot lay secure in his castle, and for a long time would not go\nout himself, nor suffer any of his knights to pass the gates of town or\ncastle. And so fifteen weeks of the siege passed away.\nCHAPTER III.\nTHE RETURN OF GUENEVER.\nIt befell upon a day in harvest-time that Lancelot looked over the walls\nof Joyous Gard, and seeing below him the king and Gawaine, thus spoke to\nthem,--\n\"My lords both, you besiege this castle in vain. You will gain more\ndishonor than worship here. If I chose to come out, with my knights, I\nshould soon bring this war to an end.\"\n\"Come forth, if thou darest!\" cried the king, in anger. \"I promise to\nmeet thee in the midst of the field.\"\n\"God defend that I should face on the field of battle the noble king who\nmade me knight.\"\n\"A truce to your fair language,\" answered the king. \"Trust me, that I am\nyour mortal foe, and will be so till the day of my death. You have slain\nmy knights and dishonored my queen, and hold her from me by force, like\na traitor. Think you I shall lightly forgive this?\"\n\"You may say what you will, my lord and king,\" answered Lancelot. \"With\nyou I will not fight; but as for your lady Guenever, I am ready to stand\nfor her innocence against any knight under heaven. Those who have\nslandered me and her lie in their teeth, and I hold myself ready to\nprove to the death that she is as true and chaste a lady as ever lived.\nMore than once, my lord, you have consented that she should be burnt,\nfrom the voice of slander, and more than once have I rescued her, and\nforced the lie down the throats of her slanderers. Then you thanked me\nfor saving her from the fire. Now, for doing you the same high service\nagain, you bring war upon me. Your queen is honest and true, and if you\nwill receive her to your good grace again I stand ready to deliver her.\"\n\"Recreant knight!\" cried Gawaine, in wrath, \"I warrant you my lord the\nking shall have his queen and you too, despite your fair words and proud\ndefiance, and shall slay you both if it please him.\"\n\"That may be, Gawaine,\" said Lancelot. \"Yet if I chose to come out of\nthe castle you would not find it quite child's play to win me and the\nqueen.\"\n\"Save your boastful words,\" said Gawaine. \"As for my lady, the queen, I\nshall say naught to her dishonor. But, recreant knight, what cause had\nyou to slay my brother Gareth, who loved you with his whole soul?\"\n\"I shall not seek an excuse for that deed,\" said Lancelot. \"I would with\nas good will have slain my nephew Sir Bors. All I may say is that it was\ndone in the heat of battle, and I knew not they were slain till word was\nbrought me here.\"\n\"You lie in your teeth!\" cried Gawaine. \"You killed them in despite of\nme; and for this foul deed I shall make war on you while I live.\"\n\"If you are so hotly set, there is no use for me to seek accord; yet I\nam truly sorry for their deaths and your enmity. Only for this I would\nsoon have the good grace of my lord Arthur.\"\n\"That may be, traitor, but you will wait long for peace. You have lorded\nit over me, and the whole of us, too long, and slain knights at your\nwill. Now our turn has come.\"\n\"No one dare say that I ever killed a knight through treachery, as you,\nGawaine, have done.\"\n\"You mean Sir Lamorak. Him I slew, man to man.\"\n\"Who lies now? You know well that you and the crew that set upon him\ndared not meet him face to face. You struck him treacherously from\nbehind.\"\n\"A truce to Lamorak. This you may know, that I will never leave you till\nI deal with you as I did with him.\"\n\"Murder me, you mean! I fancy you might if you caught me in such a\nstrait, which you will not easily do.\"\nThen others took the cue from Gawaine, and the cry went up from many\nvoices: \"False and recreant knight! how long will you hide behind your\ncastle walls, like a rat in his hole?\"\n\"How long is this to last?\" said Bors and others to Lancelot. \"We pray\nyou to keep us no longer within these walls, but let us out to do battle\nwith them. Men will say next that you are afraid. As for fair speech, it\nis thrown away. Gawaine will never forgive you, nor suffer you to make\naccord with the king. Therefore fight for your right, for to that it\nmust come.\"\n\"I am loath to do so,\" said Lancelot.\nThen he called from the wall to the king,--\n\"My knights demand that I let them sally from the castle. I therefore\npray that neither you nor Sir Gawaine come into the field, for to you\ntwo I wish no harm.\"\n\"What then? Shall we cower in our tents while others fight our battles?\"\ncried Gawaine. \"This quarrel is mine and the king's. Shall we not fight\nin it?\"\n\"If you will, you will; but I seek not battle with either of you.\"\nThen they drew back, and both sides made ready for battle. And Gawaine,\nwith deadly intent, set aside a strong body of knights, bidding them to\nattack Lancelot in force, and slay him if they could.\nWhen the next morning came, King Arthur drew up his host against the\ncastle in three great bands. And Lancelot's fellowship issued from the\ncastle at three gates, the three bands being led by Lancelot, Bors, and\nLionel. But Lancelot had given strict charge to his knights to avoid\nharming King Arthur and Sir Gawaine.\nFierce was the battle that followed, and many good knights were slain.\nIt began with a challenge from Gawaine, who came out before the king's\nhost and dared any knight of Lancelot's to joust with him. This\nchallenge Lionel accepted, but Gawaine thrust him through the body, and\ndashed him to the earth like a dead man. Then his friends rushed to his\nrescue and drove back his foes, bearing him from the field into the\ncastle. This affray brought on a hot and fiery battle, and soon the air\nwas filled with shouts, and the earth strewn with dead and wounded men.\nIn the midst of this fray the king hotly attacked Lancelot; but that\nfaithful knight patiently endured his assault, and lifted not a hand in\ndefence. But Bors, seeing his danger, rushed in, and, with a spear\nthrust, hurled King Arthur to the ground. Quickly leaping from his\nhorse, he drew his sword, and said,--\n\"Shall I make an end of this war?\"\n\"On pain of your head, no! Harm not the king! I shall not stand by and\nsee him slain.\"\nThen Lancelot sprang to the ground and helped the king to his horse\nagain, saying,--\n\"My lord Arthur, for God's sake, end this strife! I will not fight you,\nthough you kill me, nor have I the heart to fight your men. My lord,\nremember what I have done for you. Is not this an evil reward?\"\nWhen Arthur heard these words tears flowed from his eyes, for Lancelot's\ncourtesy had overcome his anger. He turned and rode away, saying\nsadly,--\n\"Alas! that this war ever began.\"\nThen both sides drew off, and parties of each began the sad duty of\nburying the dead, while the wounded were borne away, and healing salves\napplied to their wounds.\nThe next day the battle was renewed, and fought with the same deadly\nenergy as before. On this day Bors led the foremost party, and met\nGawaine as Lionel had done the day before. Fiercely together they rode,\nand both were hurled to the ground with deep and dangerous wounds.\nAround them the battle raged with double fierceness, but Lancelot broke\nin and rescued Bors, and had him borne to the castle, while the other\nparty bore off Gawaine.\nThen, as the battle continued, Lavaine and others begged Lancelot to put\nforth his strength and fight with his full might, for he imperilled them\nall by his forbearance.\n\"Why should you spare your foes?\" they said. \"You do but harm thereby.\nYour enemies spare not you.\"\n\"I have no heart to fight against the king,\" said Lancelot.\n\"If you spare them all this day they will never thank you,\" said\nPalamides. \"And if they get the better of you they will slay you without\nmercy.\"\nLancelot saw that this was but the truth, and stirred by this and the\nwound of Sir Bors, he rushed into the fray with his old might and fury,\nforcing back all before him. Glad to see the old Lancelot, his\nfollowers pressed forward, driving back the foe, so that by eventide\nthey had the best of the fray, and their horses went fetlock deep in the\nblood of the slain.\nThen, in pity for Arthur, Lancelot blew the recall, and suffered the\nking's party to withdraw without further slaughter.\nAfter this there was peace between the parties for many days, for\nGawaine had been so sorely hurt that he could not stir the king to\nactive war, and Arthur after awhile returned to Carlisle, leaving the\ncastle closely besieged.\nBut the story of this war had now passed through Christendom, and had\nreached the pope, who, feeling that war between King Arthur and Lancelot\nwas like battle between brothers, sent a letter to the king, commanding\nhim, under pain of an interdict upon all England, to take his Queen\nGuenever into favor again, and to make peace and accord with Sir\nLancelot.\nThis Papal bull was brought to Arthur by the bishop of Rochester, who\nwas then at Rome. When the king had heard it read he knew not what to\ndo. He agreed to take back the queen, and in his heart desired to make\nfriends with Lancelot; but to this Gawaine, who had then the greatest\ninfluence over him, would not consent.\nIn the end it was agreed that if Lancelot would bring back the queen he\nshould come and go in safety, and that no word should be spoken to\nGuenever, by the king or other person, of aught that had happened in the\npast.\nThen the bishop had from the king his assurance, under the great seal\nof the realm, as he was a true anointed knight, that Sir Lancelot should\ncome and return in safety, and that the queen should not be spoken to by\nthe king, or any other, concerning what had passed. With this\nsafe-conduct, written at length and signed by King Arthur, the holy\nprelate rode in state to Joyous Gard, where he made Lancelot acquainted\nwith all that had happened, telling him of the pope's action, and of the\nperil he would encounter if he withheld the queen from the king.\n\"It was never in my thought,\" said Lancelot, \"to withhold Queen Guenever\nfrom my lord Arthur. All men know why I have her in charge. She would\nhave suffered a shameful death through the king's unjust anger had I not\nbeen on hand to save her life; and I hold her only from peril of that\nvile sentence, which has never until now been remitted. I thank the pope\nheartily that he has made peace between Guenever and the king, and God\nknows that I will be a thousand-fold gladder to take her back than I\never was to bring her away. All I demand is, that I shall come and go in\nsafety, and that the queen shall have her liberty as before, and stand\nin no peril from this or any former charge against her. For else I dare\nventure to keep her from a harder shower than ever yet has fallen upon\nher or me.\"\n\"You need dread nothing either for yourself or the queen,\" replied the\nbishop. \"You know full well that the pope must be obeyed, by the king as\nwell as by you. It were not to the pope's worship nor my poor honor that\nyou should be distressed, or the queen put to shame or peril. And as\nfor King Arthur, here is his promise, under his own writing and seal.\"\nThen he showed Lancelot all the written documents he had brought, both\nfrom the pope and the king.\n\"That suffices,\" said Lancelot. \"I would trust King Arthur's bare word\nas I would the oath of half Christendom. No man can say that he ever\nbroke his plighted faith. Therefore, I beg you to ride before me to the\nking, and recommend me to his good grace, letting him know that in eight\ndays from to-day, by the grace of God, I shall bring to him his lady\nQueen Guenever. And say this further to him, that I stand ready to meet\nany one in the lists for the queen's fair fame except himself and Sir\nGawaine, and the latter more from the king's love for him than from\naught of his own deserts.\"\nWith this agreement the bishop departed to Carlisle, and when he had\ntold the king how nobly Lancelot had spoken, the tears started from\nArthur's eyes, and much he deplored in his heart the cruel chance that\nhad aroused war between him and his dearest friend.\nLancelot now made ready a hundred knights, who were all dressed in green\nvelvet, with their horses trapped to their heels, while each knight held\nin his hand an olive branch, in token of peace. For the queen there were\nprovided four and twenty gentlewomen, who followed her in the same\nguise; while Lancelot was followed by twelve coursers, on each of which\nsat a young gentleman, and these were arrayed in green velvet with\ngolden girdles, and the horses trapped to the heels with rich cloths,\nset with pearls and stones in gold, to the number of a thousand. As for\nLancelot and Guenever, they were clothed in white cloth-of-gold tissue.\nAnd in this array they rode from Joyous Gard to Carlisle, and through\nCarlisle to the castle, while many an eye shed tears on seeing them.\nThen Lancelot alighted and took the queen, and led her to where Arthur\nsat, with Gawaine and many great lords before him. Then he kneeled, and\nthe queen with him.\nMany of the assembled knights wept bitterly on seeing this, but the king\nsat in haughty silence, looking steadily upon the pair who knelt before\nhim. Seeing his countenance, Lancelot rose and forced the queen to rise\nalso. Then thus he spoke in knightly pride,--\n\"My lord the king, by the pope's command and yours I have brought you my\nlady, the queen, as right requireth. If there be any knight, whatever\nhis degree, except your sacred self, who shall dare say she has been\nuntrue to you, I, Lancelot du Lake, stand ready to make her honor good\nwith my body. To liars you have listened, and that has caused all the\ntrouble between you and me. Time has been, my lord Arthur, when you have\nbeen greatly pleased with me in that I did battle for my lady your\nqueen. Full well you know, my most royal sir, that she has been put to\ngreat wrong before this time; and since it pleased you then that I\nshould fight for her, it seems to me that I had still more cause this\nlast time to rescue her from the fire, since she was to have been burnt\nfor my sake. Had not the might of God been with me, think you that I\ncould, unarmed, have prevailed over fourteen armed knights? I was sent\nfor by the queen, who wished to confer with me, but had barely stepped\nwithin her chamber, when out burst Mordred and Agravaine, calling me\ntraitor and recreant knight.\"\n\"They called you truly,\" said Gawaine.\n\"Did they so, Gawaine? By heaven, in their quarrel they failed to prove\nthemselves in the right.\"\n\"I have given you no cause to do evil to me, Lancelot,\" said the king.\n\"For I have loved you and yours more than all my other knights.\"\n\"My good lord and liege,\" answered Lancelot, \"I beg it may not displease\nyou if I answer that you have better cause to love me and mine than most\nknights, for none have done you such service as we have at many times\nand in many places. Often have I myself rescued you from deadly peril,\nwhen you were hard pressed by your foes; and it has ever been my joy to\nplease you, and my lord Gawaine as well, in jousts and tournaments, and\nin set battles, both on horse and on foot. I wish not to boast of my\ndeeds, yet you all know well that I never met a knight but that I was\nable to stand against him, and have always done my duty like a man. I\nhave been matched with good knights, such as Sir Tristram and Sir\nLamorak, whom I loved for their valor and honesty. And I take God to\nwitness, that I was never angry with or jealous of any good knight whom\nI saw active to win honor, and was ever glad at heart when I found a\nknight who was able to endure me on horseback or on foot. Sir Carados of\nthe dolorous tower was a noble knight and a man of mighty strength, and\nthis you know full well, Sir Gawaine, since he pulled you from your\nhorse, and bound you before him on his saddle. Yet I rescued you from\nhim, and slew him before your eyes. In like manner I found his brother,\nSir Turquine, leading your brother, Sir Gaheris, bound on his saddle,\nand slew him, and rescued your brother, as also three-score and four of\nKing Arthur's knights whom he held in prison. Never met I with as strong\nand hard-fighting knights as Sir Carados and Sir Turquine, and I fought\nwith them to the uttermost for the sake of you and your brother. It\nseems to me, Sir Gawaine, that you ought to bear in mind this good\nservice I did for you in the past. If I might but have your good will in\nreturn, I would trust to God to have my lord Arthur's kindly grace.\"\n\"The king may do as he will,\" said Gawaine; \"but while I live I shall\nnever be in accord with you. I cannot forget that you have killed three\nof my brothers, two of them treacherously and pitilessly, for they wore\nno armor against you, and refused to bear any.\"\n\"Would to heaven they had been armed, for then they would now be alive,\"\nsaid Lancelot. \"I tell you this, Sir Gawaine, that I love none of my own\nkinsmen as I did your brother, Sir Gareth, and would far rather have\nslain myself than him. Never while I live shall I cease to mourn his\ndeath, not alone for your bitter sorrow and anger, but for other causes\nwhich concern myself. One is, that it was I who made him a knight;\nanother is, that he loved me above all other knights; a third is, that\nhe was ever noble, true, courteous, and gentle. I never would have\nslain, or even hurt, either Gareth or Gaheris by my will; and sad at\nheart am I that this fatal chance has robbed me of your love and made\nundying war between us, and has caused my noble lord and king to be my\nmortal foe. May Jesus forgive me for this cruel chance, which the fates\nhave laid upon me. In reparation for this sad misfortune, I shall freely\noffer, if it will please the king's good grace, and yours, my lord\nGawaine, to do penance in this wise. I shall start from Sandwich, and go\nin my shirt, barefoot, and at every ten miles' end I shall found a\nreligious house, of what order you wish, where shall be sung and read\nday and night psalms and masses for the repose of Sir Gareth and Sir\nGaheris. This I shall perform from Sandwich to Carlisle. This, Sir\nGawaine, seems to me fairer, holier, and better for their souls than\nthat you and the king should make war upon me; for little good to any is\nlikely to come from it.\"\nThen the knights and ladies there wept as though they were distracted,\nand the tears fell hot on King Arthur's cheeks. But no shadow of\nsoftness came to Gawaine's stern face.\n\"The king, as I have said, may do as it pleases him,\" he answered, \"but\nI shall never forgive you for the murder of my brothers. If my uncle,\nKing Arthur, accords with you, he shall lose my service, for I hold you\nfalse both to the king and me.\"\n\"The man lives not that can make that good,\" cried Lancelot. \"If you\ncharge me thus, I am ready to answer you with spear and sword since\nwords you disdain.\"\n\"That cannot be at this time,\" said Gawaine. \"You are here under the\nking's safe-conduct, and so must depart. If it were not for the pope's\ncommand and the king's given word, I should do battle with you, body to\nbody, and prove upon you that you have been false both to the king and\nto me. In this land you shall not abide more than fifteen days, for I\ngive you open warning that your safe-conduct lasts only for that time.\nIn this the king and we all were agreed before you came hither. Only for\nthis you would now find that my words are ready to be backed up with\ndeeds. And this you shall find wheresoever I shall meet you hereafter.\"\nThen Lancelot sighed, and tears fell upon his cheeks.\n\"Alas, most Christian realm,\" he said, \"that I have loved above all\nother realms, and most Christian king, whom I have worshipped next to my\nGod. From both I am banished, without cause or warrant. Truly I am sorry\nthat I ever came into this land, to be thus causelessly and shamefully\ntreated, after my long service here. So is it ever with fortune, whose\nwheel is so changeable that there is no constant abiding; and this may\nbe proved by the old chronicles of noble Hector of Troy, and Troilus,\nand Alexander the mighty conqueror, and many more. When they were\nhighest they quickly became lowest; and thus has it fared with me. No\nliving men have brought more honor and glory to the Round Table than I\nand my kindred, and yet we stand banished from the land which owes us\nsuch worthy service. As for you, Gawaine, I can live upon my native\nlands as well as any knight here. And if you, redoubted king, shall seek\nme there in hostile array, I must endure you as well as I may. If you\ncome thither, Gawaine, see that you charge me not with treason or\nfelony, for if you do, it will scarcely end with words.\"\n\"Do your worst,\" cried Gawaine, hotly. \"And get you gone from here as\nfast as you can. We shall soon come after, and tumble your strongest\ncastle upon your head.\"\n\"That shall not need,\" said Lancelot. \"You may find me ready to meet you\nin open field.\"\n\"There have been words enough,\" said Gawaine. \"Deliver the queen and\ntake yourself away.\"\n\"If I had looked for so short a reception I would have thought twice\nbefore coming,\" answered Lancelot, proudly. \"If the queen had been as\ndear to me as you would make her, I durst have kept her from the best\nfellowship of knights under heaven.\"\nThen he turned to Guenever and said, in full hearing of the king and all\nthere,--\n\"Madam, now I must depart from you and this noble fellowship forever.\nSince it is so, I beseech you to pray for me. And if you be slandered by\nany false tongues, send me word, my lady, and if one knight's hands may\ndeliver you by battle, I shall deliver you.\"\nThen Lancelot kissed the queen, and said openly to all present,--\n\"Now let me see who there is in this place that dare say Queen Guenever\nis not true unto my lord King Arthur! Let him speak who dare speak.\"\nHe looked proudly around the hall, from right to left, but no voice came\nin answer. Then he took the queen by the hand and led her to the king,\nand delivered her to his royal hand. This done, Lancelot turned and\nwalked from the hall with haughty stride; and there was neither duke,\nearl, nor king, baron nor knight, lady or maiden, that wept not at the\nsorrowful parting, except Sir Gawaine. And when Lancelot took his horse\nto ride out of Carlisle there was sobbing and weeping from all the\npeople who had gathered in the streets to see him depart. And so he took\nhis way to Joyous Gard, which ever after he called Dolorous Gard. And\nthus departed Sir Lancelot du Lake from the court of King Arthur\nforever.\nHe now called his fellowship about him, and asked them what they would\ndo.\n\"Whatever you will,\" they answered with one voice.\n\"Then, my brave and faithful friends, we must leave this realm. It is\nsore to me to be banished, and had I not dreaded shame, the lady\nGuenever should never have left me.\"\n\"If you stay in this land we shall not fail you,\" said his knights. \"If\nyou depart hence we shall go with you.\"\n\"My fair lords, I thank you heartily,\" answered Lancelot, with much\nfeeling. \"If you come with me to my realm beyond the sea, I shall divide\nmy lands among you, till I have as little as any of you. I care for\nonly enough to live upon, and trust to maintain you in knightly honor.\"\n\"So let it be,\" they rejoined. \"Here, now that the fellowship of the\nRound Table is broken, there will be no more peace, but only strife and\nturmoil. You were the stay of Arthur's court, Sir Lancelot. With you\ngone, all quiet and harmony will depart.\"\n\"You praise me too highly, gentlemen. I did my duty; but not I alone.\nYet I fear, when we are gone, we will soon hear of wars and rebellions,\nfrom those who dared not raise their heads when we were all together.\nMordred I fear above all. He is envious and ambitious, and if King\nArthur shall trust him I dread me greatly he will find him a stinging\nserpent.\"\nThen, soon after, they left Joyous Gard, and shipped at Cardiff to pass\nbeyond the seas to Lancelot's realm of Benwick. Some men, indeed, call\nit Bayonne, and some call it Beume, the land whence comes the wine of\nBeume. Yet to say sooth, Lancelot and his nephews were lords of all\nFrance, and had there a host of towns and castles, and many people at\ntheir command.\nThere went with him a hundred proven knights, whom he rewarded as he had\npromised. For he shortly called a parliament, where he crowned Lionel\nking of France. Bors he made king of the realm of King Claudas; and\nHector de Maris, King of Benwick and Guienne; while his other knights\nwere made dukes and earls, till all were nobly provided for.\nThus Lancelot rewarded his faithful friends. And he furnished and\nprovisioned his towns and castles, and gathered the men of war of the\nrealm, for he felt well assured that Gawaine would not rest till he had\nbrought King Arthur against him in martial array.\nCHAPTER IV.\nTHE WAR BETWEEN ARTHUR AND LANCELOT.\nWhat Lancelot had feared came quickly to pass. For so unrelenting was\nGawaine's enmity, and so strong his influence over the king, that\nArthur, at his persistent instigation, got together a great army, to the\nnumber of sixty thousand, and had shipping made ready to carry them over\nthe sea.\nThen he made Sir Mordred chief ruler of all England during his absence,\nand put Queen Guenever under his care, little dreaming of what fatal\nresults would follow this unwise choice.\nThese preparations made, Arthur passed the sea with his host, and landed\nin Lancelot's realm, where, through the revengeful spirit of Gawaine,\nthey burnt and wasted all that they overran.\nWhen word of this was brought to Lancelot and his knights, Sir Bors thus\nbroke out in anger,--\n\"My lord Sir Lancelot, it is a shame to let them thus destroy this fair\nrealm of France. You may well be assured that, however long you forbear\nyour foes, they will do you no favor if you fall into their hands.\"\nThen said Sir Lionel, who was wary and wise, \"My lord Sir Lancelot, this\nis my counsel. Let us keep to our strong-walled towns till the invaders\nsuffer from hunger and cold, and blow upon their nails for warmth. Then\nwe may freshly set upon them, and shred them down like sheep in a\nfield.\"\n\"Such a course would disgrace us all,\" said King Bagdemagus to Lancelot.\n\"Your over-courtesy has caused all the trouble we now have. If we let\nGawaine work his will, he will bring our power to naught, while we hide\nlike rabbits in our holes.\"\n\"So say I,\" broke in Sir Galihud. \"There are knights here who come of\nkings' blood, and that will not long be content to droop behind walls.\nGive us leave to meet them in the field, and we shall deal with them in\nsuch fashion that they will curse the time they came into this country.\"\nThen spoke seven brethren of North Wales, men of such prowess that one\nmight seek through seven lands before he could find seven such\nknights,--\n\"Sir Lancelot,\" they said together, \"let us ride out with Sir Galihud,\nfor it has never been our wont to cower in towns and castles.\"\n\"My fair lords,\" replied Lancelot to them all, \"I am loath to ride out\nwith my knights and shed Christian blood. And my lands, after all the\nwars they have endured, are too bare long to sustain this invading host.\nIt is the part of wisdom, therefore, for the time to keep to our walls,\nand meanwhile I will send a messenger to King Arthur and offer him a\ntreaty of peace.\"\nThen he sent a damsel to the king, and a dwarf with her, with a message,\nbidding Arthur to quit making war upon his lands, and offering him fair\nterms of accommodation. The damsel rode to the hostile camp on a palfry,\nwhile the dwarf ran by her side. When she came near to King Arthur's\npavilion she alighted, and there was met by a gentle knight, Sir Lucan\nthe butler, who said,--\n\"Fair damsel, come you from Sir Lancelot du Lake?\"\n\"Yes, sir,\" she replied, \"I am come hither with a message from him to my\nlord the king.\"\n\"Alas, that it should be needed!\" said Sir Lucan. \"My lord Arthur would\nsoon be in accord with Lancelot but for Gawaine, who has more influence\nover him than all his knights besides, and will not suffer him to think\nof peace and friendship. I pray to God, damsel, that you speed well in\nyour errand, for all that are about the king, except Sir Gawaine, wish\nwell to Lancelot above all knights living.\"\nWith these words he led the damsel to the king's pavilion. There Arthur,\nwho had been advised of her coming, sat with Gawaine to hear her\nmessage. When she had told her errand the king was so moved that tears\nran from his eyes, and all the lords were ready to advise him to make\npeace with Lancelot. But Gawaine, who sat with lowering brow, now broke\nout in hot speech,--\n\"My lord, my uncle, what will you do? Will you turn again after having\ncome so far? All the world will speak villany of you.\"\n\"I do not deem it wise to refuse his fair proffers,\" said the king.\n\"Yet since I am come so far on this journey, I leave it to you to give\nthe damsel her answer.\"\n\"Then tell Sir Lancelot,\" said Gawaine to the damsel, \"that he wastes\nhis labor now to sue to my uncle. If he wished peace he should have\nsought it sooner. Now it is too late. Tell him, also, that I, Sir\nGawaine, promise him, by the faith I owe to God and to knighthood, never\nto leave him in peace till he have slain me or I him.\"\nThis word the damsel brought back to Lancelot, where he stood among his\nknights, and sad of heart he was to hear it.\n\"Why do you grieve?\" said the knights. \"If war they want, let them have\nit to their fill. Let us meet them in the field.\"\n\"Never before was I so loath to do battle,\" said Lancelot. \"I would\nrather flee from King Arthur than fight him. Be ruled by me, noble sirs.\nWhen I must defend myself, then I will; but haste will make fresh\nsorrow.\"\nThen the knights held their peace, and that night took their rest. But\nin the morning, when they looked abroad, they saw a hostile host around\nthe city of Benwick, pressing it so closely that ladders were already\nset up against the walls. The defenders of the town flocked in haste to\nthe walls and threw down the ladders, and hot strife began.\nForth now rode Sir Gawaine on a strong steed, and with a great spear in\nhis hand, and when he came before the chief gate he called out loudly,--\n\"Sir Lancelot, where art thou? Or what proud knight is here that dare\nbreak a spear with me?\"\nHearing this challenge, Sir Bors hastily made ready, and rode from the\ncity to the encounter. But Gawaine smote him from his horse, and would\nhave slain him had he not been rescued. Then Lionel, his brother, rode\nout to revenge him; but he, too, was sorely wounded, and so borne into\nthe town.\nAnd thus, day after day, came Gawaine with his challenge, and not a day\npassed but some knight fell before his spear. And for half a year the\nsiege continued, and there was much slaughter on both sides.\nAt length came a day when Gawaine again appeared before the gates, armed\nat all points, and loudly cried,--\n\"Where art thou now, thou false traitor, Sir Lancelot? Why hidest thou\nwithin walls and holes like a coward? Come forth, traitor, that I may\nrevenge on thy body the death of my three brothers?\"\nThen said Lancelot's knights to their leader,--\n\"Now, Sir Lancelot, you must fight, or you are shamed forever. It is\ntime for you to stir, for you have slept over long and we suffered over\nmuch.\"\n\"Defend myself I must, since he charges me with treason,\" said Lancelot.\n\"His words cut deeply, and I must fight or be held recreant,\" and with\nstern countenance he bade the attendants to saddle his strongest horse\nand bring his arms to the gate tower. Then from this tower he called to\nthe king, who stood below,--\n\"My lord Arthur,\" he said, \"sad am I, for your sake, that thus you press\nupon me. Had I been revengeful I might have met you in open field, and\nthere made your boldest knights full tame; but I have forborne you half\na year, and given you and Gawaine free way. It is much against my will\nto fight with any of your blood, but since he accuses me of treason I am\ndriven to it like a beast brought to bay.\"\n\"If you dare do battle,\" cried Gawaine, \"leave your babbling and come\nout. Nothing will give deeper joy to my heart, for I have waited long\nfor this hour.\"\nAt this Lancelot mounted and rode out, and a host of knights followed\nhim from the city, while from the king's army a throng of knights\npressed to the front. But covenant was made that none should come near\nthe two warriors till one was dead or had yielded, and the knights drew\nback, leaving a broad open space for the combatants.\nGawaine and Lancelot now rode far apart, and wheeled their horses till\nthey faced each other. Thus they stood in grim silence and energy till\nthe signal for the onset was given, when, like iron statues come to\nlife, they plunged their spurs in the flanks of their chargers and\ndashed at furious speed across the plain. A minute passed, and they met\nin the middle with a shock like thunder, but the knights were so strong\nand their spears so great, that the horses could not endure the buffets,\nand fell to the earth.\nIn a moment both knights had leaped clear of their saddles, drawn their\nswords, and brought their shields before them. And now began a fierce\nand terrible affray, for they stood and hewed at each other with might\nand main, till blood burst in many places through the joints of their\narmor.\nBut Gawaine had a gift that a holy man had given him, that every day in\nthe year, from nine o'clock till noon, his strength should increase till\nit became threefold. And he took good care to fight all his battles\nduring these hours, whereby he gained great honor.\nNone knew of this gift but King Arthur, and as Lancelot felt the\nstrength of his antagonist constantly increasing, he wondered greatly,\nand began to fear that he would be overcome. It seemed to him that he\nhad a fiend, and no earthly man, before him, and for three hours he\ntraced and traversed, and covered himself with his shield, scarcely able\nto stand against the brunt of Gawaine's mighty blows. At this all men\nmarvelled, for never before had they beheld Lancelot so sorely driven to\ndefence.\nBut when the hour of noon had passed, the magic might of Gawaine\nsuddenly left him, and he had now only his own strength. This Lancelot\nfelt, and he drew himself up and pressed on his foe, saying,--\n\"You have had your day, Gawaine; now it is my turn. Defend yourself, for\nI have many a grievous buffet to repay.\"\nThen he redoubled his strokes, and at length gave Gawaine such a blow on\nthe helmet that he fell to the earth. Lancelot now withdrew a step.\n\"Why do you withdraw?\" cried Gawaine, bitterly. \"Turn, thou traitor, and\nslay me; for if I recover you shall fight with me again.\"\n\"It is not my way, Sir Gawaine, to strike a fallen knight. When you\nwant to fight again you shall not find me lacking.\"\nThen he turned and went with his knights into the city, while Gawaine\nwas borne from the field to one of the king's pavilions, where leeches\nwere brought to attend him.\n\"Alas!\" said the king, \"that ever this unhappy war began, for Sir\nLancelot ever forbeareth me, and my kin also, and that is well seen in\nhis sparing my nephew Gawaine this day.\"\nThen Arthur fell sick from sorrow for the hurt of his nephew and regret\nfor the war. The siege was kept up, but with little energy, and both\nsides rested from their toils.\nThree weeks passed before Gawaine regained his strength; but as soon as\nhe was able to ride he armed again, mounted his horse, and rode to the\ngate of Benwick, where he loudly repeated his challenge to Lancelot as a\ntraitor and recreant knight.\n\"You got the best of me by mischance at our last battle,\" he said, \"but\nif you dare come into the field this day I will make amends, and lay you\nas low as you laid me.\"\n\"Defend me from such a fate,\" said Lancelot, \"for if you should get me\ninto such a strait my days were done. But since you in this unknightly\nfashion charge me with treason, I warrant you shall have both hands full\nbefore you gain your end.\"\nThen Lancelot armed and rode out, and the battle began as before, with a\ncircle of armed knights surrounding. But in this onset Gawaine's spear\nbroke into a hundred pieces in his hand, while Lancelot struck him with\nsuch might that his horse's feet were raised, and horse and rider\ntoppled to the earth.\n\"Alight, traitor knight!\" cried Gawaine, drawing his sword. \"If a horse\nhas failed me, think not that a king and queen's son shall fail thee.\"\nThen Lancelot sprang to the ground and the battle went on as before,\nGawaine's strength increasing hour by hour. But Lancelot, feeling this,\nwarily kept his strength and his wind, keeping under cover of his\nshield, and tracing and traversing back and forth, to break the strength\nand courage of his foe.\nAs for Gawaine, he put forth all his might and power to destroy\nLancelot, and for three hours pressed him so fiercely that he could\nbarely defend himself. But when noon passed, and Lancelot felt Gawaine's\nstrength again decline, he said,--\n\"I have proved you twice, Sir Gawaine. By this magic trick of your\nstrength increasing you have deceived many a valiant knight. You have\ndone your worst; now you shall see of what metal I am made.\"\nThen he attacked him fiercely, and Gawaine defended himself with all his\npower; but at length there fell such a heavy blow on his helmet and on\nthe old wound, that he sank to the earth in a swoon. When he came to\nhimself again, he struck feebly at Lancelot as he lay, and cried\nspitefully,--\n\"Thou false traitor, I am not yet slain. Come near me, and do this\nbattle to the uttermost.\"\n\"I shall do no more than I have done,\" said Lancelot. \"When I see you on\nyour feet again I shall stand ready to fight you to the bitter end. But\nto smite a wounded and prostrate man!--God defend me from such a shame.\"\nAnd he turned and went towards the city, while Gawaine with spiteful\nmalice called him traitor, and vowed he would never cease to fight with\nhim till one of them was dead.\nA month now passed away, during which Gawaine lay sick of his wound. As\nhe slowly recovered, the old battle-hunger for Lancelot's blood returned\nto his heart, and he impatiently awaited the day when he could again\ntake the field. But before this day arrived, news came from England that\nput a sudden end to the war; tidings of such threatening aspect that\nKing Arthur was forced to return in all haste to his own realm.\nCHAPTER V.\nTHE STING OF THE VIPER.\nDisastrous, indeed, were the news from England. King Arthur had made the\nfatal mistake of placing a villain and dastard in charge of his realm,\nfor Mordred had taken advantage of his absence to turn traitor, and seek\nto seize the crown and sceptre of England as his own.\nNews moved but slowly from over seas in those days, and Mordred, with\ntreasonable craft, had letters written as though they came from abroad,\nwhich said that King Arthur had been slain in battle with Sir Lancelot.\nHaving spread this lie far and wide, he called the lords together to\nLondon in parliament, and so managed that they voted him king. Then he\nwas crowned at Canterbury, and held a feast for fifteen days, after\nwhich he went to Winchester, where Guenever was, and publicly declared\nthat he would wed his uncle's widow.\nWhen word of this came to Guenever she grew heavy at heart, for she\nhated the traitor to her soul's depth. But she was in his power, and was\nforced to hide her secret hate. She therefore seemed to consent to his\nwill, and desired permission to go to London, where she might buy all\nthings that were necessary for the wedding. She spoke so fairly that he\ntrusted her, and gave her leave to make the journey.\nBut no sooner had she reached London than she took possession of the\nTower, and with all haste supplied it with provisions and garrisoned it\nwith men, and so held it as a fortress, many knights holding with her\nagainst the usurper.\nMordred soon learned that he had been beguiled by the queen, and, moved\nto fury, he hastened to London, where he besieged the Tower, assailing\nit vigorously with great engines of war. But Guenever held out stoutly\nagainst him, and neither by fair speech nor foul could he induce her to\ntrust herself into his hands again.\n[Illustration: THE TOWER OF LONDON.]\nThere now came to Mordred the bishop of Canterbury, who said,--\n\"Sir, what would you do? Would you displease God and shame knighthood\nby wedding the wife of your uncle, who has been to you as a father?\nCease this vile purpose, I command you, or I shall curse you with book,\nand bell, and candle, and bring upon your head the vengeance of the\nchurch.\"\n\"Do your worst, sir priest,\" said Mordred, angrily. \"I defy you.\"\n\"I shall do what I ought; be sure of that. You noise about that the lord\nArthur is slain, no word of which I believe. You seek with a lie to make\nmischief in this land. Beware, lest your vile work recoil upon\nyourself.\"\n\"Peace, thou false priest,\" cried Mordred. \"Chafe me no more, or I shall\norder that thy head be stricken off.\"\nFinding that words were useless, the bishop departed, and, as he had\nthreatened, laid the curse of the church on Mordred. Roused to rage by\nthis, the usurper sought him to slay him, and he fled in all haste to\nGlastonbury, where he took refuge as a hermit in a chapel. But well he\nknew that war was at hand, and that the rightful king would soon strike\nfor the throne.\nDespite the anathema of the church, Mordred continued his efforts to get\nGuenever into his power; but she held firmly to the Tower, repelling all\nhis assaults, and declaring openly that she would rather kill herself\nthan marry such a wretch. Soon afterwards he was forced to raise the\nsiege, for word came to him by secret messengers that Arthur had heard\nof his treason, and was coming home with his whole host to revenge\nhimself on the usurper of his crown.\nWhen Mordred heard this he made strenuous efforts to gather a large\narmy, and many lords joined him with their people, saying that with\nArthur there had been nothing but war and strife, but that with Mordred\nthey hoped for peace and a quiet life. Thus was evil said of the good\nKing Arthur when he was away from the land, and that by many who owed to\nhim their honors and estates. Mordred was thus quickly able to draw with\na great host to Dover, where he had heard that Arthur would land, for he\nhoped to defeat and slay him before he could get firm footing on\nEngland's soil.\nNot long had he been there when a great fleet of ships, galleys, and\ncarracks appeared upon the sea, bearing the king's army back to their\nnative realm. On the beach stood Mordred's host, drawn up to prevent the\nlanding of the king's army. As the boats came to the shore, laden with\nnoble men-of-arms, a fierce struggle ensued, in which many a knight was\nslain, while full many a bold baron was laid low on both sides. But so\ncourageous was the king, and so fierce the onset of his knights, that\nthe opposing host could not hinder the landing of his army. And when\nthey had gained a footing on the land, they set on Mordred with such\nfury that he and all his host were driven back and forced to fly,\nleaving Arthur master of the field.\nAfter the battle, the king ordered that the dead should be buried and\nthe wounded cared for. Among the latter Sir Gawaine was found lying in a\ngreat boat, where he had been felled with a deadly wound in the bitter\nstrife. On hearing this direful news, Arthur hastened to him and took\nhim in his arms, with great show of grief and pain.\n\"In you and in Lancelot I had my highest joy,\" moaned the king. \"Now I\nhave lost you both, and all my earthly happiness is gone.\"\n\"My death is at hand,\" said Gawaine, \"and I owe it all to my own hate\nand bitterness for I am smitten on the old wound that Lancelot gave me,\nand feel that I must die. Had he but been with you this unhappy war\nwould never have begun. Of all this I am the cause, and have but\nreceived my deserts. Therefore I pray you, dear uncle, let me have\npaper, pen, and ink, that I may write to Sir Lancelot with my own hand.\"\nThese were brought him, and Gawaine wrote a moving and tender letter to\nLancelot, blaming himself severely for his hardness of heart.\nIn this wise it ran,--\n\"Unto Sir Lancelot, flower of all noble knights, I, Sir Gawaine, son of\nKing Lot of Orkney, and sister's son unto the noble King Arthur, send\ngreeting; and also these sad tidings, that on the tenth day of May I was\nsmitten on the old wound which you gave me at Benwick, and thus through\nthis wound have I come to my death. And I would have all the world know\nthat I, Sir Gawaine, Knight of the Round Table, have met with death not\nthrough your ill-will, but from my own seeking; therefore I beseech you\nto come in all haste to this realm, to which you have heretofore done\nsuch honor. I earnestly pray you, Sir Lancelot, for all the love that\never was betwixt us, make no tarrying, but come over the sea in all\nhaste, that thou mayest with thy noble knights rescue that royal king\nwho made thee knight, for he is hard bested with a false traitor, my own\nhalf-brother, Sir Mordred, who has had himself crowned king, and would\nhave wedded Queen Guenever had she not taken refuge in the Tower of\nLondon. We put him to flight on our landing, on the tenth day of May,\nbut he still holds against us with a great host. Therefore, I pray you\nto come, for I am within two hours of my death; and I beg that you will\nvisit my tomb, and pray some prayer, more or less, for my soul.\"\nWhen Sir Gawaine had finished this letter he wept bitter tears of sorrow\nand remorse, and Arthur wept beside him till they both swooned, the one\nfrom grief, the other from pain. When they recovered, the king had the\nrites of the church administered to the dying knight, who then prayed\nhim to send in haste for Lancelot, and to cherish him above all other\nknights, as his best friend and ally.\nAfterwards, at the hour of noon, Gawaine yielded up his spirit. And the\nking had him interred in Dover castle, where men to this day may see his\nskull, with the wound thereon that Lancelot gave him in battle.\nWord was now brought to King Arthur that Mordred had pitched a new camp\non Barham Down. Thither in all haste he led his army, and there a second\ngreat battle was fought, with much loss on both sides. But at the end\nArthur's party stood best, and Mordred fled, with all his host, to\nCanterbury.\nThis second victory changed the feeling of the country, and many people\nwho had held aloof joined the king's army, saying that Mordred was a\ntraitor and usurper. When the dead had been buried and the wounded cared\nfor, Arthur marched with his host to the sea-shore, westward towards\nSalisbury. Here a challenge passed between him and Mordred, in which\nthey agreed to meet on a down beside Salisbury, on the day after Trinity\nSunday, and there fight out their quarrel.\nMordred now made haste to recruit his army, raising many men about\nLondon, for the people of that section of the country held largely with\nhim, and particularly those who were friendly to Lancelot. When the time\nfixed came near, the two armies drew together and camped on Salisbury\nDown.\nAnd so the days passed till came the night of Trinity Sunday, when the\nking dreamed a strange dream, for it seemed to him that he sat in a\nchair that was fastened to a wheel, and was covered with the richest\ncloth of gold that could be made. But far beneath him he beheld a\nhideous black pool, in which were all manner of serpents, and vile\nworms, foul and horrible. Suddenly the wheel seemed to turn, and he fell\namong the serpents, which seized upon his limbs.\nAwakening in fright, he loudly cried, \"Help!\" and knights and squires\ncame crowding in alarm into his chamber; but he was so amazed that he\nknew not where he was nor what he said.\nThen he fell again into a half slumber, in which Gawaine seemed to come\nto him attended by a number of fair ladies.\n\"Fair nephew,\" asked the king, \"who are these ladies?\"\n\"They are those for whom I did battle during my life,\" answered Gawaine.\n\"God has sent them and me to warn you of your coming death, for if you\nfight with Mordred to-morrow as you have agreed, you will both be slain,\nand most of your people. Therefore I am here to warn you not to fight\nto-morrow, but to treat with the traitor, and make him large and fair\npromises, so as to gain a month's delay. Within that time Lancelot and\nhis knights will come, and Mordred the usurper cannot hold against you\nboth.\"\nThis said, Gawaine and the ladies vanished. Then Arthur waked, and sent\nmessengers in haste to bring his lords and bishops to council. When they\nhad come he told them his dream, and they counselled him by all means to\nbe guided by it. Lucan the butler, and his brother Sir Bevidere, with\ntwo bishops, were therefore sent to treat with Mordred, and make him\nlarge promises for a month's truce.\nThe commissioners sought Mordred's camp and held a long conference with\nhim. At the end he agreed to meet King Arthur on the plain between the\nhosts, each to bring but fourteen persons with him, and there consult on\nthe treaty.\n\"I am glad that this is accomplished,\" said the king, when word of the\ncompact was brought him.\nBut when he was ready to start for the place of conference, with the\nfourteen chosen men, he said to his knights,--\n\"Be wary and watchful, for I trust not Mordred. If you see any sword\ndrawn, come fiercely forward, and slay the villain and his guard.\"\nMordred gave the same warning to his lords, for he had equal mistrust of\nArthur, whom he feared and doubted.\nThe two leaders, with their chosen followers, now advanced and met\nbetween the hosts. But by a fatal chance, as the king and his opponent\nwere in consultation, an adder came from a heath bush and stung a knight\non the foot. Feeling the wound he drew his sword in thoughtless haste to\nkill the venomous serpent. But the instant the hosts on both sides saw\nthat sword flash in the air all was uproar and tumult. On both sides\ntrumpets and horns were blown, harness rattled and clanked, and the\nflash of spear-heads and sword-blades gleamed in the sunlight, while\nlike two mighty waves of war the great hosts broke from their stations\nand rushed together across the plain.\nThen Arthur sprang to his horse, exclaiming, \"Alas! this unhappy day!\"\nand rode to his party; and Mordred did likewise.\nNo hand nor voice could stay the advancing hosts, and in a moment there\nbegan the most doleful battle ever seen in Christian land. For there was\nrushing and riding, foining and striking, and deadly clamor, and fearful\nstrife. Many a grim word was there spoken, and many a deadly stroke\ndealt. Many times King Arthur rode through Mordred's host, and knightly\nwere the deeds of his hands. And Mordred fought with knightly valor and\nzeal.\nThus went on the deadly fray all day long, without pause or stint, till\nnoble knights lay like fallen leaves upon the bloody ground. And when\nnightfall was at hand they still fought with desperate valor, though by\nthat time full a hundred thousand men lay dead upon the down.\nThen the heart of Arthur grew full of warlike fury, to see so many of\nhis people slain. And when the sun was near its setting, he leaned upon\nhis crimson sword, and looked about him with eyes that seemed to weep\nblood. For of all his mighty host of knights but two remained alive, Sir\nLucan the butler, and his brother Sir Bevidere; and both of these were\nsorely wounded.\n\"God's mercy!\" cried the king, \"where are all my noble knights? Alas!\nthat I have lived to see this doleful day! Now, indeed, am I come to my\nend. But would to God I knew where to find that traitor, Mordred, who\nhas caused all this mischief.\"\nAs he spoke, his eyes fell on Mordred, who stood leaning upon his sword\namid a great heap of slain, for his host had been slaughtered to a man.\n\"Give me my spear,\" cried Arthur, wrathfully, to Sir Lucan. \"Yonder\nstands the traitor who has wrought this dire woe.\"\n\"Let him be,\" said Lucan. \"He is unhappy enough. Remember, my good lord,\nyour last night's dream, and what the spirit of Sir Gawaine told you.\nFor God's sake make an end of this fray. Blessed be God, we have won the\nfield; for here are three of us alive, while Mordred stands alone among\nhis dead. If you leave off now, the wicked day of destiny will pass and\nlife remain to you. Your time for revenge will come hereafter.\"\n\"Betide me life, betide me death,\" cried the king, \"this fray must end\nhere. Now that I see him yonder alone, he shall never escape my hands.\nOne or both of us shall die.\"\n\"Then God speed the just cause,\" said Bevidere.\nWith no word more Arthur took his spear in both hands, and ran furiously\nat Mordred, crying,--\n\"Traitor, now has thy day of death come!\"\nWhen Mordred heard him, he raised his dripping sword and ran to meet the\nking. Thus they met in mid-field, and King Arthur smote Mordred under\nthe shield, the spear piercing his body more than a fathom.\nMordred felt that he had his death-wound, but with a last impulse of\nfury in his felon soul he thrust himself, with all his strength, up to\nthe bur of King Arthur's spear. Then wielding his sword with both hands,\nhe struck the king so dread a blow on the side of the head that the\ntrenchant blade cut through the helmet and deep into the skull.\nWith this last and fatal stroke Mordred fell stark dead to the ground.\nAnd Arthur sank in a swoon to the earth, where he lay like one dead.\nThus sadly and direfully ended that dreadful war, with which came to a\nclose the flower of the days of chivalry, and the glorious and\nnever-to-be equalled fellowship of the Round Table, with all the mighty\ndeeds of prowess and marvels of adventure that to it belonged. For of\nthose noble knights, except Sir Lancelot and his kindred, only two\nlived, Sir Lucan the butler, and Sir Bevidere his brother, and of these\ntwo Sir Lucan was wounded unto death; and with them the illustrious King\nArthur, whose chivalrous soul had so long sustained this noble order of\nknighthood, lay bleeding piteously upon that direful field of blood.\nSir Lucan and Bevidere, with bitter tears of sorrow, lifted their\nhelpless king between them, and with great labor led him from that place\nof slaughter till they reached a small chapel near the sea-shore. Here,\nas the night drew on, the sound of many voices came to them, as if the\ndead had risen and were astir on the blood-stained field.\n\"What noise is this, Sir Lucan?\" said the king. \"Go, gentle friend, and\ntell me what it means.\"\nLucan went, and by the moonlight saw a throng of pillagers, who robbed\nthe dead bodies of money and jewels, killing for their riches those\nknights who were not quite dead. When he brought this news back to\nArthur, the king's sad heart came near to breaking.\n\"Alas! Lancelot,\" he said, \"how have I missed you this day. Alas! that I\never turned against you, for had you been here this fatal end could\nnever have been, nor those noble warriors left to be the prey of the\nwolves and jackals of the battle-field. Sorely have I erred and sadly\nhave I been repaid for my error. But now, alas, it is too late for\nregret or amendment, for the fellowship of the Round Table is at an end,\nand Arthur the king shall reign no more.\"\nCHAPTER VI.\nTHE PASSING OF ARTHUR.\nWhen morning dawned, after that day of fate, Lucan and Bevidere took up\nthe king between them, and sought to bear him to the sea-shore, as he\nbade them do. But in the lifting the king swooned, and Lucan fell\nprostrate, the blood gushing anew from his wound.\nArthur lay long like one dead, and when he came to himself again he saw\nLucan lifeless at his feet, with foam upon his lips, and the ground\naround him deeply stained with his blood.\n\"Alas! this is a heavy sight to see,\" he said. \"He sought to help me\nwhen he stood most in need of help. He would not complain though his\nheart broke, and has given his life for mine. May Jesus have mercy on\nhis soul.\"\nBevidere stood beside him, weeping bitterly for the death of his\nbrother.\n\"Weep and mourn no more,\" said the king. \"It will not now avail. Could I\nlive, the death of Sir Lucan would grieve me evermore. But my time goeth\nfast, and there is that to do for which but few moments remain.\"\nThen he closed his eyes for a time, like one who sees visions; and when\nhe looked again there was that in his face which Bevidere could not\nfathom and his eyes were deep with meaning unrevealed.\n\"Now, my lord Bevidere,\" said the king, \"the end is at hand. Take thou\nmy good sword Excalibur, and go with it to yonder water-side. When thou\ncomest there, I charge thee throw it as far as thou canst into the\nwater; then come again and tell me what thing thou seest.\"\n\"Trust me, my lord and king, your command shall be obeyed,\" said\nBevidere.\nSo he took the sword and departed to the water-side. But as his eyes\nfell upon the noble weapon, whose pommel and haft were all of precious\nstones, a feeling of greed came upon him and he said to himself,--\n\"If I throw this rich sword into the water, no good can come of it, but\nonly harm and loss. Had I not better keep it for myself?\"\nMoved by this thought, he hid Excalibur under a tree, and returned to\nthe king, whom he told that he had thrown the sword into the water.\n\"What saw you there?\" asked the king.\n\"Sir, I saw nothing but the rippling waves.\"\n\"Then you speak untruly,\" said the king. \"You have not thrown the sword\nas I bade you. Go again, and obey my command, as you are to me dear and\ntrue. Spare not, but throw it in afar.\"\nBevidere thereupon went again, and took the sword in his hand. But the\nrich jewels so glittered in the sun that his greed came back more\nstrongly than before, and he deemed it a sin to throw into the sea that\nnoble blade. So he hid the sword again, and returned to the king with\nhis former tale.\n\"What sawest thou there?\" asked the king.\n\"Sir, I saw nothing but the waves that broke on the beach, and heard\nonly the roar of the surf.\"\n\"Ah, traitor! false and untrue art thou!\" cried the king. \"Thou hast\nbetrayed me twice. Who would have thought that thou, whom I held dear,\nand who art named a noble knight, would betray his king for the jewels\nof a sword? Go again, for thy long delay puts me in a great jeopardy of\nmy life. If now you do not as I have bidden, beware of me hereafter, for\ndead or alive I will have revenge upon you. Would you, Sir Bevidere, for\na shining blade, bring death and ruin to your king?\"\nThen Bevidere, heart-full of shame, hastened away, and took the sword,\nturning his eyes manfully away from its jewelled hilt. Binding the\ngirdle around it, with all the might of his arm he hurled the blade far\nout over the waves.\nThen came a marvel. For as he followed the sword with his eyes, he saw a\nhand and arm rise above the waves to meet the blade. The hand caught it\nby the hilt, and brandished it thrice in the air, and then vanished with\nit into the water.\nBevidere, much wondering, hurried back to the king, and told him what he\nhad seen.\n\"Now, Sir Bevidere, you have done as I bade you,\" said Arthur. \"But much\nprecious time have you lost. Help me hence, in God's name, for I fear\nthat I have tarried over-long.\"\nThen Bevidere took the king on his back and bore him to the water-side,\nand lo! there he saw another strange thing.\nFor close by the shore lay a little barge, which he had not seen before,\nand in it sat many fair ladies, among whom were three queens, who wore\nblack hoods, and wept with bitter sorrow when they saw King Arthur.\n\"Now help me into the barge,\" said the king.\nThis Sir Bevidere did as gently as he could. And the three queens\nreceived the dying monarch with deep mourning, and had him laid between\nthem, with his head on the lap of her who sat in the centre.\n\"Alas! dear brother, why have you tarried so long from me?\" said this\nqueen. \"Much harm I fear from this sad wound.\"\nAnd so they rowed from the land, while Bevidere stood on the shore sadly\nwatching the barge go from him.\n\"Ah, my lord Arthur,\" he cried, \"what shall become of me, now that you\ngo from me and leave me here alone among my enemies?\"\n\"Comfort thyself,\" said the king, \"and do what thou mayest, for in me\ncan no man henceforth put his trust. I go into the vale of Avilion, to a\nhappy summer island far over the sea, where I shall be healed of my\ngrievous wound. But when I shall come again no voice may tell. Mayhap I\nshall never come, but dwell forever in that sunny vale. If you never\nhear more of me, pray for my soul.\"\nThen again the queens and the ladies wept and moaned, and the barge\nmoved swiftly over the long waves and afar to sea, while Bevidere stood\nand watched it till it became a black speck on the waters. Then it\nvanished and was seen no more, and the lonely watcher cast himself upon\nthe beach, weeping like one who has lost all life's happiness.\nBut when night came near he turned and went wearily away, heavy with the\nweight of death that lay upon his soul, for he alone remained of\nyesterday's mighty hosts. All that night he journeyed through a great\nforest, and in the morning he found himself between two hoary cliffs,\nwith a chapel and a hermitage in the glen that lay between.\nIn this hermitage he found the holy man who had been archbishop of\nCanterbury, and who had come hither to escape Mordred's rage. With him\nBevidere stayed till he was cured of his wounds, and afterwards he put\non poor clothes, and served the hermit full lowly in fasting and\nprayers.\nBut as for the three queens who went with Arthur to the island of\nAvilion, the chronicles say that they were Morgan le Fay his sister, the\nqueen of Northgalis, and the queen of the Waste Lands. And with them was\nNimue, the lady of the lake. All were skilled in magic, but whither they\nbore King Arthur, or where lies the magical isle of Avilion, or if he\nshall come again, all this no man can say. These are of the secrets that\ntime alone can tell, and we only know that his coming is not yet.\nCHAPTER VII.\nTHE DEATH OF LANCELOT AND GUENEVER.\nWhen word was brought to Lancelot du Lake that Mordred had usurped the\nthrone of England, had besieged Guenever in the Tower of London, and had\nsought to prevent Arthur from landing at Dover, his soul was moved to\nwrath and sorrow. And still more was he moved by the letter of Sir\nGawaine, with its pitiful self-reproach and earnest wistfulness.\n\"Is it a time for mourning?\" said Sir Bors to Lancelot. \"My counsel is\nthat you cross at once to England, visit Gawaine's tomb, as he requests,\nand then revenge my lord Arthur and my lady Guenever on this base\ntraitor, Mordred.\"\n\"It is well advised,\" said Lancelot. \"To England we must go in all\nhaste.\"\nThen ships and galleys were made ready with the greatest despatch, for\nLancelot and his host to pass over to England. And in good time he\nlanded at Dover, having with him seven kings and a mighty host of men.\nBut when he asked the people of Dover the news of the country, his heart\nwas filled with dismay to hear of the great battle on Salisbury Downs,\nwhere a hundred thousand men had died in a day, and of the death of\nArthur the king.\n\"Alas!\" said Lancelot, \"this is the heaviest tidings that ever mortal\nears heard. Would that I had been advised in good time. Nothing now\nremains to do. I have come too late. Fair sirs, I pray you to show me\nthe tomb of Sir Gawaine.\"\nThen they brought him into the castle of Dover, and showed him the tomb.\nLancelot fell on his knees before it, and wept, and prayed heartily for\nthe soul of him that lay within. And that night he made a funeral feast,\nto which all who came had flesh, fish, wine, and ale, and every man and\nwoman was given twelve pence. With his own hand he dealt them money in\na mourning gown; and ever he wept, and prayed for the soul of Sir\nGawaine.\nIn the morning, all the priests and clerks of the country round\ngathered, at his request, and sang a requiem mass before the tomb. And\nLancelot offered a hundred pounds, and each of the seven kings forty\npounds, and a thousand knights offered one pound each, this going on\nfrom morning till night. And Lancelot lay two nights on the tomb in\nprayer and weeping.\nOn the third day he called about him the kings, dukes, earls, barons,\nand knights of his train, and said to them,--\n\"My fair lords, I thank you all for coming into this country with me;\nbut we have come too late, and that I shall mourn while I live. But\nsince it is so, I shall myself ride and seek my lady Queen Guenever, for\nmen say that she has fled from London, and become a nun, and that she\nlives in deep penance, and in fasting, prayers, and almsgiving, and is\nsick almost unto death. Therefore, I pray you, await me here, and if I\ncome not again within fifteen days, then take ship and return to your\nown country.\"\n\"Is it wise for you to ride in this realm?\" said Sir Bors. \"Few friends\nwill you find here now.\"\n\"Be that as it may,\" said Lancelot, \"I shall go on my journey. Keep you\nstill here, for no man nor child shall go with me.\"\nNo boot was it to strive with him, and he departed and rode westerly, on\na seven or eight days' journey, asking of all people as he went. At last\nhe came to the nunnery where was Queen Guenever, who saw him as she\nwalked in the cloister, and swooned away, so that her ladies had work\nenough to keep her from falling. When she could speak, she said,--\n\"Ye marvel why I am so held. Truly, it is for the sight of yonder\nknight. Bid him come hither, I pray you.\"\nAnd when Sir Lancelot had come, she said to him with sweet and sad\nvisage,--\n\"Sir Lancelot, through our love has all this happened, and through it my\nnoble lord has come to his death. As for me, I am in a way to get my\nsoul's health. Therefore, I pray you heartily, for all the love that\never was between us, that you see me no more in the visage; but turn to\nthy kingdom again, and keep well thy realm from war and wrack. So well\nhave I loved you that my heart will not serve me to see you, for through\nyou and me is the flower of kings and knights destroyed. Therefore, Sir\nLancelot, go to thy realm, and take there a wife, and live with her in\njoy and bliss; and I beseech you heartily to pray to God for me, that I\nmay amend my mis-living.\"\n\"Nay, madam, I shall never take a wife,\" said Lancelot. \"Never shall I\nbe false to you; but the same lot you have chosen that shall I choose.\"\n\"If you will do so, I pray that you may,\" said the queen. \"Yet I cannot\nbelieve but that you will turn to the world again.\"\n\"Madam,\" he earnestly replied, \"in the quest of the Sangreal I would\nhave forsaken the world but for the service of your lord. If I had done\nso then with all my heart, I had passed all the knights on the quest\nexcept Galahad, my son. And had I now found you disposed to earthly\njoys, I would have begged you to come into my realm. But since I find\nyou turned to heavenly hopes, I, too, shall take to penance, and pray\nwhile my life lasts, if I can find any hermit, either gray or white, who\nwill receive me. Wherefore, madam, I pray you kiss me, and never more\nshall my lips touch woman's.\"\n\"Nay,\" said the queen, \"that shall I never do. But take you my blessing,\nand leave me.\"\nThen they parted. But hard of heart would he have been who had not wept\nto see their grief; for there was lamentation as deep as though they had\nbeen wounded with spears. The ladies bore the queen to her chamber, and\nLancelot took his horse and rode all that day and all that night in a\nforest, weeping.\nAt last he became aware of a hermitage and a chapel that stood between\ntwo cliffs, and then he heard a little bell ring to mass, so he rode\nthither and alighted, and heard mass.\nHe that sang mass was the archbishop of Canterbury, and with him was Sir\nBevidere. After the mass they conversed together, and when Bevidere had\ntold all his lamentable tale, Lancelot's heart almost broke with sorrow.\nHe flung his arms abroad, crying,--\n\"Alas! who may trust this world?\"\nThen he kneeled, and prayed the bishop to shrive and absolve him,\nbeseeching that he might accept him as his brother in the faith. To this\nthe bishop gladly consented, and he put a religious habit on Lancelot,\nwho served God there night and day with prayers and fastings.\nMeanwhile the army remained at Dover. But Lionel with fifteen lords rode\nto London to seek Lancelot. There he was assailed by Mordred's friends,\nand slain with many of his lords. Then Sir Bors bade the kings, with\ntheir followers, to return to France. But he, with others of Lancelot's\nkindred, set out to ride over all England in search of their lost\nleader.\nAt length Bors came by chance to the chapel where Lancelot was. As he\nrode by he heard the sound of a little bell that rang to mass, and\nthereupon alighted and entered the chapel. But when he saw Lancelot and\nBevidere in hermits' clothing his surprise was great, and he prayed for\nthe privilege to put on the same suit. Afterwards other knights joined\nthem, so that there were seven in all.\nThere they remained in penance for six years, and afterwards Sir\nLancelot took the habit of a priest, and for a twelvemonth he sang mass.\nBut at length came a night when he had a vision that bade him to seek\nAlmesbury, where he would find Guenever dead. Thrice that night was the\nvision repeated, and Lancelot rose before day and told the hermit of\nwhat he had dreamed.\n\"It is from God,\" said the hermit. \"See that you make ready, and disobey\nnot the warning.\"\nSo, in the early morn, Lancelot and his fellows set out on foot from\nGlastonbury to Almesbury, which is little more than thirty miles. But\nthey were two days on the road, for they were weak and feeble with long\npenance. And when they reached the nunnery they found that Guenever had\ndied but half an hour before.\nThe ladies told Lancelot that the queen had said,--\n\"Hither cometh Lancelot as fast as he may to fetch my corpse. But I\nbeseech Almighty God that I may never behold him again with my mortal\neyes.\"\nThis, said the ladies, was her prayer for two days, till she died. When\nLancelot looked upon her dead face he wept not greatly, but sighed. And\nhe said all the service for the dead himself, and in the morning he sang\nmass.\nThen was the corpse placed in a horse-bier, and so taken to Glastonbury\nwith a hundred torches ever burning about it, and Lancelot and his\nfellows on foot beside it, singing and reading many a holy orison, and\nburning frankincense about the corpse.\nWhen the chapel had been reached, and services said by the hermit\narchbishop, the queen's corpse was wrapped in cered cloth of Raines,\nthirty-fold, and afterwards was put in a web of lead, and then in a\ncoffin of marble.\nBut when the corpse of her whom he had so long loved was put in the\nearth, Lancelot swooned with grief, and lay long like one dead, till the\nhermit came and aroused him, and said,--\n\"You are to blame for such unmeasured grief. You displease God thereby.\"\n[Illustration: Copyright by F. Frith and Co. Ltd., London, England.\nTHE OLD KITCHEN OF GLASTONBURY ABBEY.]\n\"I trust not,\" Lancelot replied, \"for my sorrow is too deep ever to\ncease. When I remember how greatly I am to blame for the death of this\nnoble King Arthur and Queen Guenever, my heart sinks within me, and I\nfeel that I shall never know a moment's joy again.\"\nThereafter he sickened and pined away, for the bishop nor any of his\nfellows could make him eat nor drink but very little, but day and night\nhe prayed, and wasted away, and ever lay grovelling on the tomb of the\nqueen.\nSo, within six weeks afterwards, Lancelot fell sick and lay in his bed.\nThen he sent for the bishop and all his fellows, and said with sad\nvoice: \"Sir Bishop, I pray you give me all the rites that belong to a\nChristian man, for my end is at hand.\"\n\"This is but heaviness of your blood,\" replied the bishop. \"You shall be\nwell amended, I hope, through God's grace, by to-morrow morning.\"\n\"In heaven, mayhap, but not on earth,\" said Lancelot. \"So give me the\nrites of the church, and after my death, I beg you to take my body to\nJoyous Gard, for there I have vowed that I would be buried.\"\nWhen they had heard this, and saw that he was indeed near his end, there\nwas such weeping and wringing of hands among his fellows that they could\nhardly help the bishop in the holy offices of the church. But that\nnight, after the midnight hour, as the bishop lay asleep, he fell into\nsuch a hearty laugh of joy that they all came to him in haste, and asked\nhim what ailed him.\n\"Why did you wake me?\" he cried. \"I was never in my life so happy and\nmerry.\"\n\"Wherefore?\" asked Sir Bors.\n\"Truly, here was Sir Lancelot with me, with more angels than I ever saw\nmen together; and I saw the angels bear him to heaven, and the gates of\nheaven opened to him.\"\n\"This is but the vexation of a dream,\" said Sir Bors. \"Lancelot may yet\nmend.\"\n\"Go to his bed,\" said the hermit, \"and you shall find if my dream has\nmeaning.\"\nThis they hastened to do, and there lay Lancelot dead, but with a smile\non his lips, and the sweetest savor about him they ever had known.\nGreat was the grief that followed, for never earthly man was mourned as\nwas Lancelot. In the morning, after the bishop had made a requiem mass,\nhe and his fellows put the corpse of the noble knight into the same\nhorse-bier that had borne Guenever, and the queen's corpse with it, and\nthey were taken together to Joyous Gard, with such state and ceremony as\nbefitted those of royal blood.\nAnd there all the services of the church were sung and read, while the\nface of Lancelot lay open for people to see; for such was then the\ncustom of the land. When the services were over they were buried in one\ntomb, for so great had been their love during life that all men said\nthey should not be divided in death.\nDuring these events, Sir Constantine, the noble son of Sir Cador of\nCornwall, had been chosen king of England in Arthur's place, and a\nworthy monarch he proved, ruling the realm worshipfully and long.\nAfter Lancelot's death the new king sent for the bishop of Canterbury,\nand restored him to his archbishopric; but Sir Bevidere remained a\nhermit at Glastonbury to his life's end.\nKing Constantine also desired the kindred of Lancelot to remain in his\nrealm; but this they would not do, but returned to their own country.\nFour of them, Sir Bors, Sir Hector, Sir Blamor, and Sir Bleoberis, went\nto the Holy Land, where they fought long and stoutly against the\nSaracens. And there they died upon a Good Friday, for God's sake.\nAnd so ends the book of the life and death of King Arthur and his noble\nKnights of the Round Table, who were an hundred and fifty when they were\nall together. Let us pray that God was merciful to them all.\nTHE END.\nTranscriber's Notes:\n1. Minor punctuation errors have been corrected as follows;\n Pg. 12 - Added missing punctuation \"?\" (might champion?)\n Pg. 188 - Added missing punctuation \".\" (and he did all.)\n Pg. 270 - Added missing endquote (\"This I say,\")\n Pg. 316 - Removed extra enquote (what will you do?)\n2. Spelling corrections based upon correct spelling of the word\n elsewhere in the text:\n Pg. 39 - \"grevious\" to \"grievous\" (4) (grievous cry that)\n Pg. 50 - \"you\" to \"your\" (\"Knight, hold your hand.\")\n Pg. 83 - \"Dinaden\" to \"Dinadan\" (92) (Gareth and Dinadan also)\n Pg. 94 - \"seaside\" to \"sea-side\" (8) (castle by the sea-side,)\n Pg. 127 - \"law\" to \"lay\" (as he lay there asleep)\n Pg. 143 - \"Badgemagus\" to \"Bagdemagus\" (11) (said Bagdemagus)\n Pg. 159 - \"Percival\" to \"Percivale\" (94) (Percivale had returned)\n Pg. 166 - \"dressel\" to \"dressed\" (old man dressed in a)\n Pg. 189 - \"this\" to \"his\" (to his surprise and joy)\n Pg. 202 - \"Nacien\" to \"Nancien\" (3) (once by Nancien)\n Pg. 220 - \"seem\" to \"seen\" (and seen what you highly)\n Pg. 238 - \"befel\" to \"befell\" (5) (it befell that Nimue)\n Pg. 281 - \"Turquin\" to \"Turquine\" (2) (by Sir Turquine?)\n Pg. 289 - \"Tristam's\" to \"Tristram's\" (313) (and Tristram's sake)\n Pg. 298 - \"wil\" to \"will\" (361) (if you will receive)\n Pg. 299 - \"dishoner\" to \"dishonor\" (12) (naught to her dishonor.)\n3. Words where both versions appear in this text and have been retained.\n \"threescore\" (2) and \"three-score\"\n \"King Astlabor\" (p. 87) and \"King Astlobar\" (p. 90)\n4. Known English Archaic words used in this text:\n \"emprise\" (prowess/daring)\n \"guerdon\" (reward)\n \"halidom\" (a thing considered holy)\n \"leman\" (sweetheart)\n \"lief\" (dear)\n \"woful\" (3) (now woeful)\n \"villanous\" (6) and villany (3) (now var. of villian* (10))\nEnd of Project Gutenberg's Historic Tales, Vol 14 (of 15), by Charles Morris", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg - Historic Tales"}, {"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1451, "culture": " English\n", "content": "THE BOY'S KING ARTHUR\n SIR THOMAS MALORY'S HISTORY\n KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS OF THE ROUND TABLE\n ILLUSTRATED BY N. C. WYETH\n _Copyright by Charles Scribner's Sons_\n CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS\n CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS\n CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS\n Printed in the United States of America\n In this edition of Mr. Lanier's classic \"Boy's King Arthur\"\n omission has been made of some minor passages and introductory\n matter--all the greater tales, those of Arthur, Launcelot, Tristram,\n Gareth, Galahad, Percival, and the Holy Grail, being retained.\n BOOK II. OF SIR LAUNCELOT DU LAKE\n BOOK III. OF SIR GARETH OF ORKNEY\n BOOK IV. OF SIR TRISTRAM\n BOOK V. OF SIR GALAHAD AND SIR PERCIVAL, AND THE\n BOOK VI. OF THE FAIR MAID OF ASTOLAT\n BOOK VII. OF THE DEATH OF ARTHUR\nAnd when they came to the sword that the hand held, King Arthur took it\nup\n\"I am Sir Launcelot du Lake, King Ban's son of Benwick, and knight of\nthe Round Table\"\nAnd lived by fruit and such as he might get\nThe lady Lyoness ... had the dwarf in examination\n\"They fought with him on foot more than three hours, both before him\nand behind him\"\nKing Mark slew the noble knight Sir Tristram as he sat harping before\nhis lady la Belle Isolde\nSir Mador's spear brake all to pieces, but the other's spear held\nHe rode his way with the queen unto Joyous Gard\nThen Sir Launcelot saw her visage, but he wept not greatly, but sighed\nIt befell in the days of the noble Utherpendragon, when he was King of\nEngland, [that there was born to him a son who in after time was King\nArthur. Howbeit the boy knew not he was the king's son. For when he was\nbut a babe] the king commanded two knights and two ladies to take the\nchild bound in rich cloth of gold, \"and deliver him to what poor man\nyou meet at the postern gate of the castle.\" So the child was delivered\nunto Merlin, and so he bare it forth unto Sir Ector, and made an holy\nman to christen him, and named him Arthur; and so Sir Ector's wife\nnourished him. Then within two years King Uther fell sick of a great\nmalady; [and thereof he died]. Then stood the realm in great [danger] a\nlong while, for every lord made him strong, and many weened [_thought_]\nto have been king. [And so, by Merlin's counsel, all the lords of\nEngland came together in the greatest church of London on Christmas\nmorn before it was day, to see if God would not show by some miracle\nwho should be king.] And when the first mass was done there was seen\nin the church-yard, against the high altar, a great stone four-square,\nlike to a marble stone, and in the midst thereof was an anvil of steel,\na foot of height, and therein stuck a fair sword naked by the point,\nand letters of gold were written about the sword that said thus:\nWHO SO PULLETH OUT THIS SWORD OF THIS STONE AND ANVIL, IS RIGHTWISE\nKING BORN OF ENGLAND.\nSo when all the masses were done, all the [lords] went for to behold\nthe stone and the sword. And when they saw the scripture, some assayed\n[_tried_] such as would have been king. But none might stir the sword\nnor move it.\n\"He is not yet here,\" said the archbishop, \"that shall achieve the\nsword, but doubt not God will make him to be known. But this is my\ncounsel,\" said the archbishop, \"that we let purvey [_provide_] ten\nknights, men of good fame, and they to keep this sword.\"\nAnd upon New Year's day the barons let make a tournament for to keep\nthe lords together, for the archbishop trusted that God would make\nhim known that should win the sword. So upon New Year's day when the\nservice was done the barons rode to the field.\nAnd so it happened that Sir Ector rode to the jousts, and with him rode\nSir Kay, his son, and young Arthur that was his nourished brother.\n[But Sir] Kay had lost his sword, for he had left it at his father's\nlodging, and so he prayed young Arthur to ride for his sword. \"I will\nwith a good will,\" said Arthur, and rode fast after the sword; and when\nhe came home, the lady and all were gone out to see the jousting. Then\nwas Arthur wroth, and said to himself, \"I will ride to the church-yard\nand take the sword with me that sticketh in the stone, for my brother\nSir Kay shall not be without a sword this day.\" And so when he came to\nthe church-yard Arthur alighted, and tied his horse to the stile, and\nso went to the tent, and found no knights there, for they were all at\nthe jousting; and so he handled the sword by the handles, and lightly\nand fiercely he pulled it out of the stone, and took his horse and rode\nhis way till he came to his brother Sir Kay, and delivered him the\nsword. And as soon as Sir Kay saw the sword, he wist [_knew_] well that\nit was the sword of the stone, and so he rode to his father, Sir Ector,\nand said: \"Sir, lo here is the sword of the stone; wherefore I must be\nking of this land.\" When Sir Ector beheld the sword, he returned again\nand came to the church, and there they alighted, all three, and went\ninto the church, and anon he made Sir Kay to swear upon a book how he\ncame to that sword.\n\"Sir,\" said Sir Kay, \"by my brother Arthur, for he brought it to me.\"\n\"How gate [_got_] you this sword?\" said Sir Ector to Arthur.\n\"Sir, I will tell you. When I came home for my brother's sword, I found\nnobody at home for to deliver me his sword, and so I thought my brother\nSir Kay should not be swordless, and so I came thither eagerly and\npulled it out of the stone without any pain.\"\n\"Found ye any knights about this sword?\" said Sir Ector.\n\"Nay,\" said Arthur.\n\"Now,\" said Sir Ector to Arthur, \"I understand that you must be king of\nthis land.\"\n\"Wherefore I?\" said Arthur.\n\"Sir,\" said Ector, \"for there should never man have drawn out this\nsword but he that shall be rightwise king of this land. Now let me see\nwhether ye can put the sword there as it was and pull it out again.\"\n\"That is no mastery,\" said Arthur; and so he put it in the stone.\nTherewith Sir Ector assayed to pull out the sword, and failed.\n\"Now assay,\" said Sir Ector to Sir Kay. And anon he pulled at the sword\nwith all his might but it would not be. \"Now shall ye assay,\" said Sir\nEctor to Arthur.\n\"I will well,\" said Arthur, and pulled it out easily. And therewithal\nSir Ector kneeled down to the earth, and Sir Kay.\n\"Alas,\" said Arthur, \"mine own dear father and brother, why kneel ye to\nme?\"\n\"Nay, nay, my lord Arthur, it is not so: I was never your father nor\nof your blood, but I wote [_know_] well ye are of an higher blood than\nI weened [_thought_] ye were.\" And then Sir Ector told him all. Then\nArthur made great moan when he understood that Sir Ector was not his\nfather.\n\"Sir,\" said Ector unto Arthur, \"will ye be my good and gracious lord\nwhen ye are king?\"\n\"Else were I to blame,\" said Arthur, \"for ye are the man in the world\nthat I am most beholding [_obliged_] to, and my good lady and mother\nyour wife, that as well as her own hath fostered and kept me. And if\never it be God's will that I be king, as ye say, ye shall desire of me\nwhat I may do, and I shall not fail you.\"\n\"Sir,\" said Sir Ector, \"I will ask no more of you but that you will\nmake my son, your fostered brother Sir Kay seneschal of all your\nlands.\"\n\"That shall be done, sir,\" said Arthur, \"and more by the faith of my\nbody; and never man shall have that office but he while that he and I\nlive.\"\nTherewithal they went unto the archbishop, and told him how the sword\nwas achieved, and by whom. And upon the twelfth day all the barons\ncame thither for to assay to take the sword. But there afore them all,\nthere might none take it out but only Arthur; wherefore there were many\ngreat lords wroth, and said, \"It was great shame unto them all and the\nrealm to be governed with a boy of no high blood born.\" And so they\nfell out at that time, that it was put off till Candlemas, and then all\nthe barons should meet there again. But always the ten knights were\nordained for to watch the sword both day and night; and so they set a\npavilion over the stone and the sword, and five always watched. And at\nCandlemas many more great lords came thither for to have won the sword,\nbut none of them might prevail. And right as Arthur did at Christmas he\ndid at Candlemas, and pulled out the sword easily, whereof the barons\nwere sore aggrieved, and put it in delay till the high feast of Easter.\nAnd as Arthur sped afore, so did he at Easter; and yet there were some\nof the great lords had indignation that Arthur should be their king,\nand put it off in delay till the feast of Pentecost.\nAnd at the feast of Pentecost all manner of men assayed to pull at the\nsword that would assay, and none might prevail; but Arthur pulled it\nout afore all the lords and commons that were there, wherefore all the\ncommons cried at once: \"We will have Arthur unto our king; we will\nput him no more in delay; for we all see that it is God's will that he\nshall be our king, and who that holdeth against it we will slay him.\"\nAnd therewithal they kneeled down all at once, both rich and poor, and\ncried Arthur mercy, because they had delayed him so long. And Arthur\nforgave it them, and took the sword between both his hands, and offered\nit upon the altar where the archbishop was, and so was he made knight\nof[1] the best man that was there. And so anon was the coronation made,\nand there was he sworn to the lords and commons for to be a true king,\nto stand with true justice from thenceforth all the days of this life.\nAlso then he made all lords that held of the crown to come in, and to\ndo service as they ought to do. And many complaints were made unto King\nArthur of great wrongs that were done since the death of King Uther, of\nmany lands that were bereaved of lords, knights, ladies and gentlemen.\nWherefore King Arthur made the lands to be given again unto them that\nowned them. When this was done that the king had stablished all the\ncountries about London, then he let make Sir Kay seneschal of England;\nand Sir Baudwin of Britain was made constable; and Sir Ulfius was made\nchamberlain; and Sir Brasias was made warden to wait upon the north\nfrom Trent forwards, for it was that time for the most part enemy to\nthe king.\n[Footnote 1: \"Of\" was often used for the modern _by_ in Sir Thomas\nMalory's time, and is still so used upon occasion. \"Made knight of the\nbest man\" thus means _made knight by the best man_.]\nThen on a day there came into the court a squire on horseback, leading\na knight before him wounded to the death, and told him there was a\nknight in the forest that had reared up a pavilion by a well [_spring_]\nside, \"and hath slain my master, a good knight, and his name was Miles;\nwherefore I beseech you that my master may be buried, and that some\ngood knight may revenge my master's death.\" Then was in the court great\nnoise of the knight's death, and every man said his advice. Then came\nGriflet, that was but a squire, and he was but young, of the age of\nKing Arthur, so he besought the king, for all his service that he had\ndone, to give him the order of knighthood.\n\"Thou art full young and tender of age,\" said King Arthur, \"for to take\nso high an order upon thee.\"\n\"Sir,\" said Griflet, \"I beseech you to make me a knight.\"\n\"Sir,\" said Merlin, \"it were pity to leese [_lose_] Griflet, for he\nwill be a passing good man when he cometh to age, abiding with you the\nterm of his life; and if he adventure his body with yonder knight at\nthe fountain, he shall be in great peril if[2] ever he come again, for\nhe is one of the best knights of the world, and the strongest man of\narms.\"\n[Footnote 2: \"If\" here means _whether_. \"In great peril if ever he come\nagain,\" _in great danger of never getting back_.]\n\"Well,\" said King Arthur. So, at the desire of Griflet, the king made\nhim knight.\n\"Now,\" said King Arthur to Sir Griflet, \"sithen [_since_] that I have\nmade thee knight, thou must grant me a gift.\"\n\"What ye will, my lord,\" said Sir Griflet.\n\"Thou shalt promise me, by the faith of thy body, that when thou hast\njousted with the knight at the fountain, whether it fall [_happen_]\nthat ye be on foot or on horseback, that in the same manner ye shall\ncome again unto me without any question or making any more debate.\"\n\"I will promise you,\" said Griflet, \"as ye desire.\" Then Sir Griflet\ntook his horse in great haste, and dressed his shield, and took a great\nspear in his hand, and so he rode a great gallop till he came to the\nfountain, and thereby he saw a rich pavilion, and thereby under a cloth\nstood a fair horse well saddled and bridled, and on a tree a shield\nof divers colors, and a great spear. Then Sir Griflet smote upon the\nshield with the end of his spear, that the shield fell down to the\nground.\nWith that came the knight out of the pavilion, and said, \"Fair knight,\nwhy smote ye down my shield?\"\n\"For I will joust with you,\" said Sir Griflet.\n\"It were better ye did not,\" said the knight, \"for ye are but young and\nlate made knight, and your might is nothing to mine.\"\n\"As for that,\" said Sir Griflet, \"I will joust with you.\"\n\"That is me loth,\" said the knight, \"but sith [_since_] I must needs, I\nwill dress me thereto; but of whence be ye?\" said the knight.\n\"Sir, I am of King Arthur's court.\" So they ran together that Sir\nGriflet's spear all to-shivered [_shivered all to pieces_], and\ntherewithal he smote Sir Griflet through the shield and the left side,\nand brake the spear, that the truncheon stuck in his body, that horse\nand knight fell down.\nWhen the knight saw him lie so on the ground he alighted, and was\npassing heavy, for he wend [_weened_] he had slain him, and then he\nunlaced his helm and got him wind, and so with the truncheon he set\nhim on his horse, and betook him to God, and said he had a mighty\nheart, and if he might live he would prove a passing good knight. And\nso Sir Griflet rode to the court, whereas great moan was made for him.\nBut through good leeches [_surgeons_] he was healed and his life saved.\nAnd King Arthur was passing wroth for the hurt of Sir Griflet. And\nby and by he commanded a man of his chamber that his best horse and\narmor \"be without the city or [_before_] to-morrow day.\" Right so in\nthe morning he met with his man and his horse, and so mounted up and\ndressed his shield, and took his spear, and bade his chamberlain tarry\nthere till he came again. And so King Arthur rode but a soft pace till\nit was day, and then was he ware of three churls which chased Merlin,\nand would have slain him. Then King Arthur rode unto them a good pace,\nand cried to them: \"Flee, churls.\" Then were they afraid when they saw\na knight, and fled away. \"O Merlin,\" said King Arthur, \"here hadst thou\nbeen slain for[3] all thy craft, had I not been.\"\n[Footnote 3: \"For\" here means _in spite of_; as still used, in certain\nphrases.]\n\"Nay,\" said Merlin, \"not so, for I could save myself if I would, and\nthou art more near thy death than I am, for thou goest towards thy\ndeath, and[4] God be not thy friend.\"\n[Footnote 4: \"And\" means _if_, here. In later times it becomes\ncontracted into \"an,\" when used in this sense.]\nSo, as they went thus talking, they came to the fountain, and the rich\npavilion by it. Then King Arthur was ware where a knight sat all armed\nin a chair. \"Sir knight,\" said King Arthur, \"for what cause abidest\nthou here? That there may no knight ride this way but if he do joust\nwith thee?\" said the king. \"I rede [_advise_] thee leave that custom,\"\nsaid King Arthur.\n\"This custom,\" said the knight, \"have I used and will use, maugre [_in\nspite of_] who saith nay; and who is grieved with my custom, let him\namend it that will.\"\n\"I will amend it,\" said King Arthur.\n\"And I shall defend it,\" said the knight. Anon he took his horse, and\ndressed his shield, and took a spear, and they met so hard either on\nother's shield, that they all to-shivered [_shivered all to pieces_]\ntheir spears. Therewith King Arthur drew his sword. \"Nay, not so,\" said\nthe knight, \"it is fairer that we twain run more together with sharp\nspears.\"\n\"I will well,\" said King Arthur, \"and [_if_] I had any mo [_more_]\nspears.\"\n\"I have spears enough,\" said the knight. So there came a squire, and\nbrought two good spears, and King Arthur took one and he another. So\nthey spurred their horses, and came together with all their mights,\nthat either brake their spears to their hands. Then Arthur set hand\non his sword. \"Nay,\" said the knight, \"ye shall do better; ye are a\npassing good jouster as ever I met withal, and for the love of the high\norder of knighthood let us joust once again.\"\n\"I assent me,\" said King Arthur. Anon there were brought two great\nspears, and every knight gat a spear, and therewith they ran together\nthat Arthur's spear all to-shivered. But the other knight hit him so\nhard in midst of the shield that horse and man fell to the earth, and\ntherewith Arthur was eager, and pulled out his sword, and said, \"I\nwill assay thee, Sir knight, on foot, for I have lost the honor on\nhorseback.\"\n\"I will be on horseback,\" said the knight. Then was Arthur wroth, and\ndressed his shield towards him with his sword drawn. When the knight\nsaw that, he alight, for him thought no worship to have a knight at\nsuch avail, he to be on horseback, and he on foot, and so he alight and\ndressed his shield unto Arthur. And there began a strong battle with\nmany great strokes, and so hewed with their swords that the cantels\n[_pieces, of armor or of flesh_] flew in the fields, and much blood\nthey bled both, that all the place there as they fought was over-bled\nwith blood, and thus they fought long, and rested them, and then they\nwent to the battle again, and so hurtled together like two rams that\neither fell to the earth. So at the last they smote together, that both\ntheir swords met even together. But the sword of the knight smote King\nArthur's sword in two pieces, wherefore he was heavy. Then said the\nknight unto Arthur, \"Thou art in my danger whether me list to save thee\nor slay thee, and but thou yield thee as overcome and recreant thou\nshalt die.\"\n\"As for death,\" said King Arthur, \"welcome be it when it cometh, but\nas to yield me to thee as recreant, I had liever die than to be so\nshamed.\" And there withal the king leapt unto Pellinore, and took him\nby the middle, and threw him down, and raced[5] off his helm. When the\nknight felt that, he was adread, for he was a passing big man of might,\nand anon he brought King Arthur under him, and raced off his helm, and\nwould have smitten off his head.\n[Footnote 5: \"Raced\" off: _violently tore off_.]\nTherewithal came Merlin, and said: \"Knight, hold thy hand, for and\n[_if_] thou slay that knight, thou puttest this realm in the greatest\ndamage that ever realm was in, for this knight is a man of more worship\nthan thou wottest of.\"\n\"Why, who is he?\" said the knight.\n\"It is King Arthur.\"\nThen would he have slain him for dread of his wrath, and heaved up his\nsword, and therewith Merlin cast an enchantment on the knight, that he\nfell to the earth in a great sleep. Then Merlin took up King Arthur,\nand rode forth upon the knight's horse. \"Alas,\" said King Arthur, \"what\nhast thou done, Merlin? hast thou slain this good knight by thy crafts?\nThere lived not so worshipful a knight as he was; I had liever than the\nstint [_loss_] of my land a year, that he were on[6] live.\"\n[Footnote 6: \"On live\": old form of _alive_.]\n\"Care ye not,\" said Merlin, \"for he is wholer than ye, for he is but\non[7] sleep, and will awake within three hours. I told you,\" said\nMerlin, \"what a knight he was; here had ye been slain had I not been.\nAlso, there liveth not a better knight than he is, and he shall do you\nhereafter right good service, and his name is Pellinore, and he shall\nhave two sons, that shall be passing good men.\"\n[Footnote 7: \"On sleep,\" _asleep_: as just above \"on live,\" _alive_.]\nRight so the king and he departed, and went unto an hermit that was a\ngood man and a great leech. So the hermit searched all his wounds and\ngave him good salves; and the king was there three days, and then were\nhis wounds well amended that he might ride and go. So Merlin and he\ndeparted, and as they rode, Arthur said, \"I have no sword.\"\n\"No force,\"[8] said Merlin, \"hereby is a sword that shall be yours, and\n[_if_] I may.\" So they rode till they came to a lake, which was a fair\nwater and a broad, and in the middest of the lake King Arthur was ware\nof an arm clothed in white samite, that held a fair sword in the hand.\n\"Lo,\" said Merlin, \"yonder is that sword that I spake of.\" With that\nthey saw a damsel going upon the lake.\n[Footnote 8: \"No force,\" _no matter_.]\n\"What damsel is that?\" said Arthur.\n\"That is the Lady of the Lake,\" said Merlin; \"and this damsel will come\nto you anon, and then speak ye fair to her that she will give you that\nsword.\" Anon withal came the damsel unto Arthur and saluted him, and he\nher again.\n\"Damsel,\" said Arthur, \"what sword is that, that yonder the arm holdeth\nabove the water? I would it were mine, for I have no sword.\"\n\"Sir king,\" said the damsel, \"that sword is mine, and if ye will give\nme a gift when I ask it you, ye shall have it.\"\n\"By my faith,\" said Arthur, \"I will give you what gift ye will ask.\"\n\"Well,\" said the damsel, \"go ye into yonder barge and row yourself to\nthe sword, and take it and the scabbard with you, and I will ask my\ngift when I see my time.\"\nSo King Arthur and Merlin alighted and tied their horses to two trees,\nand so they went into the ship, and when they came to the sword that\nthe hand held, King Arthur took it up by the handles, and took it with\nhim. And the arm and the hand went under the water; and so they came\nunto the land and rode forth. And then King Arthur saw a rich pavilion:\n\"What signifieth yonder pavilion?\"\n[Illustration: _And when they came to the sword that the hand held,\nKing Arthur took it up_]\n\"It is the knight's pavilion,\" said Merlin, \"that ye fought with last,\nSir Pellinore, but he is out, he is not there; he hath ado with a\nknight of yours, that hight [_was named_] Egglame, and they have fought\ntogether, but at the last Egglame fled, and else he had been dead, and\nhe hath chased him to Caerleon, and we shall anon meet with him in the\nhigh way.\"\n\"It is well said,\" quoth King Arthur, \"now have I a sword, and now will\nI wage battle with him and be avenged on him.\"\n\"Sir, ye shall not do so,\" said Merlin, \"for the knight is weary of\nfighting and chasing, so that ye shall have no worship to have ado with\nhim; also he will not lightly be matched of one knight living; and\ntherefore my counsel is that ye let him pass, for he shall do you good\nservice in short time, and his sons after his days. Also ye shall see\nthat day in short space, that ye shall be right glad to give him your\nsister to wife.\"\n\"When I see him,\" said King Arthur, \"I will do as ye advise me.\"\nThen King Arthur looked upon the sword and liked it passing well.\n\"Whether liketh you better,\" said Merlin, \"the sword or the scabbard?\"\n\"Me liketh better the sword,\" said King Arthur.\n\"Ye are more unwise,\" said Merlin, \"for the scabbard is worth ten of\nthe sword, for while ye have the scabbard upon you ye shall leese\n[_lose_] no blood be ye never so sore wounded, therefore keep well the\nscabbard alway with you.\"\nSo they rode on to Caerleon, and by the way they met with Sir\nPellinore. But Merlin had done such a craft that Pellinore saw not\nArthur, and so he passed by without any words.\n\"I marvel,\" said the king, \"that the knight would not speak.\"\n\"Sir,\" said Merlin, \"he saw you not, for and [_if_] he had seen you he\nhad not lightly departed.\"\nSo they came unto Caerleon, whereof the knights were passing glad; and\nwhen they heard of his adventures, they marvelled that he would jeopard\nhis person so alone. But all men of worship said it was merry to be\nunder such a chieftain that would put his person in adventure as other\npoor knights did.\nIt befell on a time that King Arthur said to Merlin: \"My barons will\nlet me have no rest, but needs they will have that I take a wife, and I\nwill none take but by thy counsel and by thine advice.\"\n\"It is well done,\" said Merlin, \"that ye take a wife, for a man of your\nbounty and nobleness should not be without a wife. Now is there any\nfair lady that ye love better than another?\"\n\"Yea,\" said King Arthur, \"I love Guenever, the king's daughter\nLeodegrance[9] of the land of Cameliard, which Leodegrance holdeth in\nhis house the Table Round that ye told he had of my father Uther. And\nthis damsel is the most gentlest and fairest lady that I know living,\nor yet that ever I could find.\"\n[Footnote 9: \"The king's daughter Leodegrance,\" _King Leodegrance's\ndaughter_.]\nAnd Merlin went forth to King Leodegrance of Cameliard, and told him\nof the desire of the king, that he would have to his wife Guenever his\ndaughter.\n\"That is to me,\" said King Leodegrance, \"the best tidings that ever I\nheard, that so worthy a king of prowess and of nobleness will wed my\ndaughter. And as for my lands I will give him, wished I that it might\nplease him, but he hath lands enough, he needeth none; but I shall\nsend him a gift that shall please him much more, for I shall give him\nthe Table Round, the which Utherpendragon gave me; and when it is full\ncomplete, there is an hundred knights and fifty, and as for an hundred\ngood knights I have myself, but I lack fifty, for so many have been\nslain in my days.\"\nAnd so King Leodegrance delivered his daughter Guenever unto Merlin,\nand the Table Round with the hundred knights; and so they rode freshly\nwith great royalty, what by water and what by land, till they came that\nnight unto London.\nWhen King Arthur heard of the coming of Guenever and the hundred\nknights with the Table Round, he made great joy for their coming, and\nsaid openly, \"This fair lady is passing welcome to me, for I loved\nher long, and therefore there is nothing so pleasing to me. And these\nknights with the Round Table please me more than right great riches.\"\nThen in all haste the king did ordain for the marriage and the\ncoronation in the most honorablest wise that could be devised.\n\"Now Merlin,\" said King Arthur, \"go thou and espy me in all this land\nfifty knights which be of most prowess and worship.\"\nWithin short time Merlin had found such knights that should fulfil\ntwenty and eight knights, but no more he could find. Then the bishop of\nCanterbury was fetched, and he blessed the sieges [_seats_] with great\nroyalty and devotion, and there set the eight and twenty knights in\ntheir sieges.\nAnd when this was done Merlin said, \"Fair sirs, ye must all arise and\ncome to King Arthur for to do him homage; he will have the better will\nto maintain you.\"\nAnd so they arose and did their homage. And when they were gone Merlin\nfound in every siege letters of gold that told the knights' names that\nhad sitten therein. But two sieges were void.\n\"What is the cause,\" said King Arthur, \"that there be two places void\nin the sieges?\"\n\"Sir,\" said Merlin, \"there shall no man sit in those places but they\nthat shall be of most worship. But in the Siege Perilous there shall no\nman sit therein but one, and if there be any so hardy to do it he shall\nbe destroyed, and he that shall sit there shall have no fellow.\"\nAnd therewith Merlin took King Pellinore by the hand, and, in the\none hand next the two sieges and the Siege Perilous, he said in open\naudience, \"This is your place, and best ye be worthy to sit therein of\nany that is here.\"\n OF SIR LAUNCELOT DU LAKE\nAnon after that the noble and worthy King Arthur was come from Rome\ninto England, all the knights of the Round Table resorted unto the\nking, and made many jousts and tournaments, and some there were that\nwere good knights, which increased so in arms and worship that they\npassed all their fellows in prowess and noble deeds, and that was well\nproved on many, but especially it was proved on Sir Launcelot du Lake.\nFor in all tournaments and jousts and deeds of arms, both for life and\ndeath, he passed all knights, and at no time he was never overcome, but\nit were by treason or enchantment. Wherefore Queen Guenever had him in\ngreat favor above all other knights, and certainly he loved the queen\nagain above all other ladies and damsels all the days of his life, and\nfor her he did many great deeds of arms, and saved her from the fire\nthrough his noble chivalry. Thus Sir Launcelot rested him a long while\nwith play and game; and then he thought to prove himself in strange\nadventures. Then he bade his brother Sir Lionel to make him ready, \"for\nwe two will seek adventures.\"\nSo they mounted upon their horses armed at all points, and rode into\na deep forest; and after they came into a great plain, and then the\nweather was hot about noon, and Sir Launcelot had great list [_desire_]\nto sleep.\nThen Sir Lionel espied a great apple tree that stood by an hedge, and\nsaid: \"Brother, yonder is a fair shadow, there may we rest us and our\nhorses.\"\n\"It is well said, fair brother,\" said Sir Launcelot; \"for of all this\nseven year I was not so sleepy as I am now.\"\nAnd so they there alighted and tied their horses under sundry trees,\nand so Sir Launcelot laid him down under an apple tree, and his helm\nhe laid under his head. And Sir Lionel waked while he slept. So Sir\nLauncelot was asleep passing fast. And in the mean while there came\nthree knights riding, as fast fleeing as ever they might ride. And\nthere followed them three but one knight. And when Sir Lionel saw\nhim, him thought he saw never so great a knight nor so well faring a\nman, neither so well apparelled unto all rights. So within a while\nthis strong knight had overtaken one of these knights, and there he\nsmote him to the cold earth that he lay still. And then he rode unto\nthe second knight, and smote him so that man and horse fell down. And\nthen straight to the third knight he rode, and he smote him behind his\nhorse's tail a spear's length. And then he alighted down, and reined\nhis horse on the bridle, and bound all the three knights fast with\nthe reins of their own bridles. When Sir Lionel saw him do thus, he\nthought to assay him, and made him ready, and stilly and privily he\ntook his horse, and thought not for to awake Sir Launcelot. And when\nhe was mounted upon his horse he overtook this strong knight and bade\nhim turn: and the other smote Sir Lionel so hard that horse and man\nhe bare to the earth, and so he alighted down and bound him fast, and\nthrew him overthwart his own horse, and so he served them all four, and\nrode with them away to his own castle. And when he came there, he made\nunarm them, and beat them with thorns all naked, and after put them in\na deep prison where there were many more knights that made great dolor.\nWhen Sir Ector de Maris wist that Sir Launcelot was past out of the\ncourt to seek adventures he was wroth with himself, and made him ready\nto seek Sir Launcelot, and as he had ridden long in a great forest, he\nmet with a man that was like a forester. \"Fair fellow,\" said Sir Ector,\n\"knowest thou in this country any adventures that be here nigh hand?\"\n\"Sir,\" said the forester, \"this country know I well, and hereby within\nthis mile is a strong manor, and well diked, and by that manor, on the\nleft hand, there is a fair ford for horses to drink of, and over that\nford there groweth a fair tree, and thereon hangeth many fair shields\nthat wielded sometime good knights: and at the hole of the tree hangeth\na basin of copper and laton [_brass_], and strike upon that basin\nwith the butt of thy spear thrice, and soon after thou shalt hear new\ntidings, and else hast thou the fairest grace that many a year had ever\nknight that passed through this forest.\"\n\"Gramercy,\" [_thanks_] said Sir Ector, and departed and came to the\ntree, and saw many fair shields, and among them he saw his brother's\nshield, Sir Lionel, and many more that he knew that were his fellows\nof the Round Table, the which grieved his heart, and he promised to\nrevenge his brother. Then anon Sir Ector beat on the basin as he were\nwood [_crazy_], and then he gave his horse drink at the ford: and\nthere came a knight behind him and bade him come out of the water and\nmake him ready; and Sir Ector anon turned him shortly, and in fewter\ncast[10] his spear, and smote the other knight a great buffet that his\nhorse turned twice about.\n[Footnote 10: \"In fewter cast his spear,\" _in rest placed his spear_.]\n\"This was well done,\" said the strong knight, \"and knightly thou hast\nstricken me:\" and therewith he rushed his horse on Sir Ector and caught\nhim under his right arm, and bare him clean out of the saddle, and rode\nwith him away into his own hall, and threw him down in the midst of the\nfloor. The name of this knight was Sir Turquine. Then he said unto Sir\nEctor, \"For thou hast done this day more unto me than any knight did\nthese twelve years, now will I grant thee thy life, so thou wilt be\nsworn to be my prisoner all thy life-days.\"\n\"Nay,\" said Sir Ector, \"that will I never promise thee, but that I will\ndo mine advantage.\"\n\"That me repenteth,\" said Sir Turquine.\nAnd then he made to unarm him, and beat him with thorns all naked,\nand after put him down in a deep dungeon, where he knew many of his\nfellows. But when Sir Ector saw Sir Lionel, then made he great sorrow.\n\"Alas, brother,\" said Sir Ector, \"where is my brother Sir Launcelot?\"\n\"Fair brother, I left him on sleep when that I from him went, under an\napple tree, and what is become of him I cannot tell you.\"\n\"Alas,\" said the knights, \"but Sir Launcelot help us we may never be\ndelivered, for we know now no knight that is able to match our master\nTurquine.\"\nNow leave we these knights prisoners, and speak we of Sir Launcelot\ndu Lake that lieth under the apple tree sleeping. Even about the noon\nthere came by him four queens of great estate; and, for the heat of the\nsun should not annoy them, there rode four knights about them and bare\na cloth of green silk on four squares, betwixt them and the sun, and\nthe queens rode on four white mules.\nThus as they rode they heard by them a great horse grimly neigh, and\nthen were they ware of a sleeping knight that lay all armed under an\napple tree; anon as these queens looked on his face they knew that it\nwas Sir Launcelot. Then they began for to strive for that knight; every\none said she would have him to her love.\n\"We shall not strive,\" said Morgan le Fay that was King Arthur's\nsister; \"I shall put an enchantment upon him that he shall not awake in\nsix hours, and then I will lead him away unto my castle, and when he is\nsurely within my hold I shall take the enchantment from him, and then\nlet him choose which of us he will have for his love.\"\nSo this enchantment was cast upon Sir Launcelot, and then they laid\nhim upon his shield, and bare him so on horseback betwixt two knights,\nand brought him unto the castle Chariot, and there they laid him in a\nchamber cold, and at night they sent unto him a fair damsel with his\nsupper ready dight. By that the enchantment was past, and when she came\nshe saluted him, and asked him what cheer?\n\"I cannot say, fair damsel,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"for I wot not how I\ncame into this castle but it be by an enchantment.\"\n\"Sir,\" said she, \"ye must make good cheer, and if ye be such a knight\nas is said ye be, I shall tell you more to-morn [_to-morrow_] by prime\n[_the first hour_] of the day.\"\n\"Gramercy, fair damsel,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"of your good will I\nrequire you.\"\nAnd so she departed. And there he lay all that night without comfort of\nanybody.\nAnd on the morn early came these four queens, passingly well beseen,\nall they bidding him good morn, and he them again.\n\"Sir knight,\" the four queens said, \"thou must understand thou art\nour prisoner, and we here know thee well, that thou art Sir Launcelot\ndu Lake, King Ban's son. And truly we understand your worthiness that\nthou art the noblest knight living; and therefore thee behoveth now\nto choose one of us four. I am the Queen Morgan le Fay, Queen of the\nland of Gore, and here is the Queen of Northgalis, and the Queen of\nEastland, and the Queen of the Out Isles; now choose ye one of us which\nthou wilt have to thy love, for thou mayst not choose or else in this\nprison to die.\"\n\"This is an hard case,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"that either I must die\nor else choose one of you, yet had I liever to die in this prison\nwith worship, than to have one of you to my love maugre my head. And\ntherefore ye be answered, for I will have none of you, for ye be false\nenchantresses.\"\n\"Well,\" said the queens, \"is this your answer, that you will refuse us?\"\n\"Yea, upon my life,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"refused ye be of me.\"\nSo they departed, and left him there alone that made great sorrow.\nRight so at noon came the damsel to him, and brought him his dinner,\nand asked him what cheer.\n\"Truly, fair damsel,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"in all my life-days never so\nill.\"\n\"Sir,\" said she, \"that me repenteth; but and ye will be ruled by me,\nI shall help you out of this distress, and ye shall have no shame nor\nvillany, so that ye hold me a promise.\"\n\"Fair damsel, that I will grant you, and sore I am afeared of these\nqueen's witches, for they have destroyed many a good knight.\"\n\"Sir,\" said she, \"that is sooth, and for the renown and bounty they\nhear of you, they would have your love, and, sir, they say that your\nname is Sir Launcelot du Lake, the flower of all the knights that been\nliving, and they been passing wroth with you that ye have refused them;\nbut, sir, and ye would promise me for to help my father on Tuesday\nnext coming, that hath made a tournament between him and the King of\nNorthgalis; for the Tuesday last past my father lost the field through\nthree knights of King Arthur's court, and if ye will be there upon\nTuesday next coming and help my father, to-morrow or [_ere_] prime, by\nthe grace of God, I shall deliver you clean.\"\n\"Fair maiden,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"tell me what is your father's name,\nand then shall I give you an answer.\"\n\"Sir knight,\" said the damsel, \"my father is King Bagdemagus, that was\nfoully rebuked at the last tournament.\"\n\"I know your father well,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"for a noble king and a\ngood knight, and by the faith of my body, ye shall have my body ready\nto do your father and you service at that day.\"\n\"Sir,\" said the damsel, \"gramercy, and to-morrow await that ye be ready\nbetimes, and I shall deliver you; and take you your armor and your\nhorse, shield, and spear; and hereby within these ten miles is an abbey\nof white monks, and there I pray you to abide, and thither shall I\nbring my father unto you.\"\n\"All this shall be done,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"as I am a true knight.\"\nAnd so she departed, and came on the morrow early and found him ready.\nThen she brought him out of twelve locks, and brought him unto his\narmor. And when he was all armed and arrayed, she brought him unto his\nown horse, and lightly he saddled him, and took a great spear in his\nhand, and so rode forth, and said, \"Fair damsel, I shall not fail you,\nby the grace of God.\"\nAnd so he rode into a great forest all that day, and in no wise could\nhe find any highway, and so the night fell on him, and then was he ware\nin a slade [_glade_] of a pavilion of red sendall.[11] \"By my faith,\"\nsaid Sir Launcelot, \"in that pavilion will I lodge all this night.\"\nAnd so there he alighted down, and tied his horse to the pavilion, and\nthere he unarmed him, and found there a rich bed and laid him therein,\nand anon he fell on sleep.\n[Footnote 11: \"Sendall,\" _a kind of silk_.]\nSo thus within a while the night passed and the day appeared, and then\nSir Launcelot armed him and mounted upon his horse, and took his leave,\nand they showed him the way towards the abbey, and thither they rode\nwithin the space of two hours.\nAs soon as Sir Launcelot came within the abbey yard, King Bagdemagus'\ndaughter heard a great horse go on the pavement. And then she arose and\nwent unto a window, and there she saw that it was Sir Launcelot, and\nanon she made men hastily to go to him, which took his horse and led\nhim into a stable, and himself was led into a fair chamber, and there\nhe unarmed him, and the lady sent to him a long gown, and anon she\ncame herself. And then she made Sir Launcelot passing good cheer, and\nshe said he was the knight in the world that was most welcome to her.\nThen she in all the haste sent for her father King Bagdemagus, that was\nwithin twelve miles of that abbey, and before even he came with a fair\nfellowship of knights with him. And when the king was alighted from\nhis horse, he went straight unto Sir Launcelot's chamber, and there\nfound his daughter, and then the king embraced Sir Launcelot in his\narms, and either made other good cheer. Anon Sir Launcelot made his\ncomplaint unto the king how he was betrayed, and how his brother Sir\nLionel was departed from him he wist not whither, and how his daughter\nhad delivered him out of prison, \"wherefore I shall while I live do her\nservice and all her friends and kindred.\"\n\"Then am I sure of your help,\" said the king, \"now on Tuesday next\ncoming?\"\n\"Ye, sir,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"I shall not fail you, for so have I\npromised unto my lady, your daughter. As I hear say that the tournament\nshall be within this three mile of this abbey, ye shall send unto\nme three knights of yours such as ye trust, and look that the three\nknights have all white shields, and I also, and no painture on the\nshields, and we four will come out of a little wood in the midst of\nboth parties, and we shall fall in the front of our enemies and grieve\nthem that we may; and thus shall I not be known what knight I am.\" So\nthey took their rest that night, and this was on the Sunday. And so the\nking departed, and sent unto Sir Launcelot three knights, with the four\nwhite shields.\nAnd on the Tuesday they lodged them in a little leaved wood beside\nwhere the tournament should be. And there were scaffolds that lords\nand ladies might behold, and to give the prize. Then came into the\nfield the King of Northgalis with eightscore helms. And then the three\nknights of Arthur stood by themselves. Then came into the field King\nBagdemagus with fourscore of helms. And then they fewtred [_placed\nin rest_] their spears, and came together with a great dash, and\nthere were slain of knights, at the first encounter, twelve of King\nBagdemagus' party, and six of the King of Northgalis' party, and King\nBagdemagus' party was far set aback.\nWith that came Sir Launcelot du Lake, and he thrust in with his spear\nin the thickest of the press, and there he smote down with one spear\nfive knights, and of four of them he brake their backs. And in that\nthrong he smote down the King of Northgalis, and brake his thigh in\nthat fall. All this doing of Sir Launcelot saw the three knights of\nArthur.\n\"Yonder is a shrewd guest,\" said Sir Mador de la Porte, \"therefore have\nhere once at him.\"\nSo they encountered, and Sir Launcelot bare him down horse and man, so\nthat his shoulder went out of joint.\n\"Now befalleth it to me to joust,\" said Mordred, \"for Sir Mador hath a\nsore fall.\"\nSir Launcelot was ware of him, and gat a great spear in his hand, and\nmet him, and Sir Mordred brake a spear upon him, and Sir Launcelot\ngave him such a buffet that the bow of his saddle brake, and so he\nflew over his horse's tail, that his helm went into the earth a foot\nand more, that nigh his neck was broken, and there he lay long in a\nswoon. Then came in Sir Gahalantine with a spear, and Launcelot against\nhim, with all their strength that they might drive, that both their\nspears to-brast [_burst to pieces_] even to their hands, and then they\nflung out with their swords, and gave many a grim stroke. Then was Sir\nLauncelot wroth out of measure, and then he smote Sir Gahalantine on\nthe helm, that his nose burst out on blood, and ears and mouth both,\nand therewith his head hung low. And therewith his horse ran away with\nhim, and he fell down to the earth.\nAnon therewithal Sir Launcelot gat a great spear in his hand, and, or\n[_ere_] ever that great spear brake, he bare down to the earth sixteen\nknights, some horse and man, and some the man and not the horse, and\nthere was none but that he hit surely. He bare none arms [_no device\nto be known by_] that day. And then he gat another great spear, and\nsmote down twelve knights, and the most part of them never throve\nafter. And then the knights of the King of Northgalis would joust no\nmore, and there the prize was given unto King Bagdemagus. So either\nparty departed unto his own place, and Sir Launcelot rode forth with\nKing Bagdemagus unto his castle, and there he had passing good cheer\nboth with the king and with his daughter, and they proffered him great\ngifts. And on the morn he took his leave, and told King Bagdemagus that\nhe would go and seek his brother Sir Lionel, that went from him when\nthat he slept. So he took his horse, and betaught [_commended_] them\nall to God. And there he said unto the king's daughter, \"If ye have\nneed any time of my service, I pray you let me have knowledge, and I\nshall not fail you, as I am a true knight.\"\nAnd so Sir Launcelot departed, and by adventure he came into the same\nforest where he was taken sleeping. And in the midst of an highway he\nmet a damsel riding on a white palfrey, and there either saluted other.\n\"Fair damsel,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"know ye in this country any\nadventures?\"\n\"Sir knight,\" said that damsel, \"here are adventures near hand, and\n[_if_] thou durst prove them.\"\n\"Why should I not prove adventures?\" said Sir Launcelot; \"for that\ncause came I hither.\"\n\"Well,\" said she, \"thou seemest well to be a good knight, and if thou\ndare meet with a good knight, I shall bring thee where is the best\nknight and the mightiest that ever thou foundest, so thou wilt tell me\nwhat is thy name, and what knight thou art.\"\n\"Damsel, as for to tell thee my name, I take no great force: truly, my\nname is Sir Launcelot du Lake.\"\n[Illustration: \"_I am Sir Launcelot du Lake, King Ban's son of Benwick,\nand knight of the Round Table_\"]\n\"Sir, thou beseemest well, here be adventures by that fall for thee,\nfor hereby dwelleth a knight that will not be overmatched for no man\nthat I know, unless ye overmatch him, and his name is Sir Turquine.\nAnd, as I understand, he hath in his prison of Arthur's court good\nknights threescore and four that he hath won with his own hands. But\nwhen ye have done that day's work ye shall promise me as ye are a true\nknight for to go with me, and to help me and other damsels that are\ndistressed daily with a false knight.\"\n\"All your intent, damsel, and desire I will fulfil, so ye will bring me\nunto this knight.\"\n\"Now, fair knight, come on your way.\"\nAnd so she brought him unto the ford, and unto the tree where hung the\nbasin. So Sir Launcelot let his horse drink, and then he beat on the\nbasin with the butt of his spear so hard with all his might till the\nbottom fell out, and long he did so, but he saw nothing. Then he rode\nalong the gates of that manor nigh half an hour. And then was he ware\nof a great knight that drove an horse afore him, and overthwart the\nhorse there lay an armed knight bound. And ever as they came near and\nnear, Sir Launcelot thought he should know him; then Sir Launcelot was\nware that it was Sir Gaheris, Gawaine's brother, a knight of the Table\nRound.\n\"Now, fair damsel,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"I see yonder cometh a knight\nfast bound that is a fellow of mine, and brother he is unto Sir\nGawaine. And at the first beginning I promise you, by the leave of God,\nto rescue that knight; and unless his master sit better in the saddle\nI shall deliver all the prisoners that he hath out of danger, for I am\nsure that he hath two brethren of mine prisoners with him.\"\nBy that time that either had seen other they gripped their spears unto\nthem.\n\"Now, fair knight,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"put that wounded knight off\nthe horse, and let him rest awhile, and let us two prove our strengths.\nFor as it is informed me, thou doest and hast done great despite and\nshame unto knights of the Round Table, and therefore now defend thee.\"\n\"And [_if_] thou be of the Table Round,\" said Turquine, \"I defy thee\nand all thy fellowship.\"\n\"That is overmuch said,\" said Sir Launcelot.\nAnd then they put their spears in the rests, and came together with\ntheir horses as fast as they might run, and either smote other in the\nmidst of their shields, that both their horses' backs brast under\nthem, and the knights were both astonied, and as soon as they might\navoid their horses they took their shields afore them, and drew out\ntheir swords, and came together eagerly, and either gave other many\nstrong strokes, for there might neither shields nor harness hold their\nstrokes. And so within a while they had both grimly wounds, and bled\npassing grievously. Thus they fared two hours or more, trasing and\nrasing [_feinting and thrusting_] either other where they might hit\nany bare place. Then at the last they were breathless both, and stood\nleaning on their swords.\n\"Now, fellow,\" said Sir Turquine, \"hold thy hand awhile, and tell me\nwhat I shall ask thee.\"\n\"Say on.\"\nThen Turquine said, \"Thou art the biggest man that ever I met withal,\nand the best breathed, and like one knight that I hate above all other\nknights; so be it that thou be not he I will lightly accord with thee,\nand for thy love I will deliver all the prisoners that I have, that is\nthreescore and four, so thou wilt tell me thy name. And thou and I will\nbe fellows together, and never to fail the while that I live.\"\n\"It is well said,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"but since it is so that I may\nhave thy friendship, what knight is he that thou so hatest above all\nother?\"\n\"Truly,\" said Sir Turquine, \"his name is Launcelot du Lake, for he slew\nmy brother Sir Carados at the Dolorous Tower, which was one of the best\nknights then living, and therefore him I except of all knights, for\nand [_if_] I may once meet with him, that one of us shall make an end\nof another, and do that I make a vow. And for Sir Launcelot's sake I\nhave slain an hundred good knights, and as many I have utterly maimed,\nthat never after they might help themselves, and many have died in my\nprison, and yet I have threescore and four, and all shall be delivered,\nso that thou wilt tell me thy name, and so it be that thou be not Sir\nLauncelot.\"\n\"Now see I well,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"that such a man I might be I\nmight have peace, and such a man I might be there should be between\nus two mortal war; and now, sir knight, at thy request, I will that\nthou wit and know that I am Sir Launcelot du Lake, King Ban's son of\nBenwick, and knight of the Round Table. And now I defy thee do thy\nbest.\"\n\"Ah!\" said Sir Turquine, \"Launcelot, thou art unto me most welcome, as\never was any knight, for we shall never depart till the one of us be\ndead.\"\nAnd then hurtled they together as two wild bulls, rashing and lashing\nwith their shields and swords, that sometime they fell both on their\nnoses. Thus they fought still two hours and more, and never would rest,\nand Sir Turquine gave Sir Launcelot many wounds that all the ground\nthere as they fought was all besprinkled with blood.\nThen at last Sir Turquine waxed very faint, and gave somewhat back, and\nbare his shield full low for weariness. That soon espied Sir Launcelot,\nand then leaped upon him fiercely as a lion, and got him by the banner\nof his helmet, and so he plucked him down on his knees, and anon he\nrased [_tore off_] his helm, and then he smote his neck asunder.\nSo on the third day he rode over a long bridge, and there started\nupon him suddenly a passing foul churl, and he smote his horse on the\nnose that he turned about, and asked him why he rode over that bridge\nwithout his license.\n\"Why should I not ride this way?\" said Sir Launcelot. \"I may not ride\nbeside.\"\n\"Thou shalt not choose,\" said the churl, and lashed at him with a great\nclub shod with iron. Then Sir Launcelot drew a sword, and put the\nstroke aback, and clave his head unto the breast. At the end of the\nbridge was a fair village, and all the people men and women cried on\nSir Launcelot, and said, \"A worse deed didst thou never for thyself,\nfor thou hast slain the chief porter of our castle.\"\nSir Launcelot let them say what they would, and straight he went into\nthe castle; and when he came into the castle he alighted, and tied his\nhorse to a ring on the wall; and there he saw a fair green court, and\nthither he dressed himself, for there him thought was a fair place to\nfight in. So he looked about, and saw much people in doors and windows,\nthat said, \"Fair knight, thou art unhappy.\"\nAnon withal came there upon him two great giants, well armed all save\nthe heads, with two horrible clubs in their hands. Sir Launcelot put\nhis shield afore him, and put the stroke away of the one giant, and\nwith his sword he clave his head asunder. When his fellow saw that, he\nran away as he were wood [_crazy_], for fear of the horrible strokes,\nand Sir Launcelot after him with all his might, and smote him on the\nshoulder, and clave him to the middle. Then Sir Launcelot went into the\nhall, and there came afore him threescore ladies and damsels, and all\nkneeled unto him, and thanked God and him of their deliverance.\n\"For, sir,\" said they, \"the most part of us have been here this seven\nyear their prisoners, and we have worked all manner of silk works for\nour meat, and we are all great gentlewomen born, and blessed be the\ntime, knight, that ever thou wert born; for thou hast done the most\nworship that ever did knight in the world, that will we bear record,\nand we all pray you to tell us your name, that we may tell our friends\nwho delivered us out of prison.\"\n\"Fair damsels,\" he said, \"my name is Sir Launcelot du Lake.\"\n\"Ah, sir,\" said they all, \"well mayest thou be he, for else save\nyourself, as we deemed, there might never knight have the better of\nthese two giants, for many fair knights have assayed it, and here have\nended, and many times have we wished after you, and these two giants\ndread never knight but you.\"\n\"Now may ye say,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"unto your friends, how and who\nhath delivered you, and greet them all from me, and if that I come\nin any of your marches [_boundaries_] show me such cheer as ye have\ncause; and what treasure that there is in this castle I give it you for\na reward for your grievance: and the lord that is the owner of this\ncastle I would that he received it as is right.\"\n\"Fair sir,\" said they, \"the name of this castle is Tintagil and a duke\nowned it some time that had wedded fair Igraine, and after wedded her\nUtherpendragon.\"\n\"Well,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"I understand to whom this castle\nbelongeth.\"\nAnd so he departed from them and betaught [_commended_] them unto God.\nAnd then he mounted upon his horse, and rode into many strange and wild\ncountries and through many waters and valleys, and evil was he lodged.\nAnd at the last by fortune him happened against a night to come to a\nfair curtilage [_enclosure_], and therein he found an old gentlewoman\nthat lodged him with a good will, and there he had good cheer for him\nand his horse. And when time was, his host brought him into a fair\ngarret over the gate to his bed. There Sir Launcelot unarmed him, and\nset his harness by him, and went to bed, and anon he fell on sleep.\nSo soon after there came one on horseback, and knocked at the gate in\ngreat haste. And when Sir Launcelot heard this he arose up, and looked\nout at the window, and saw by the moonlight three knights came riding\nafter one man, and all three lashed on him at once with swords, and\nthat one knight turned on them knightly again and defended him.\n\"Truly,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"yonder one knight shall I help, for it\nwere shame for me to see three knights on one, and if he be slain I am\npartner of his death.\"\nAnd therewith he took his harness and went out at a window by a sheet\ndown to the four knights, and then Sir Launcelot said on high [_in a\nloud voice_], \"Turn you knights unto me, and leave your fighting with\nthat knight.\"\nAnd then they all three left Sir Kay, and turned unto Sir Launcelot,\nand there began great battle, for they alighted all three, and struck\nmany great strokes at Sir Launcelot, and assailed him on every side.\nThen Sir Kay dressed him for to have holpen Sir Launcelot.\n\"Nay, sir,\" said he, \"I will none of your help, therefore as ye will\nhave my help let me alone with them.\"\nSir Kay for the pleasure of the knight suffered him to do his will,\nand so stood aside. And then anon within six strokes Sir Launcelot had\nstricken them to the earth.\nAnd then they all three cried, \"Sir knight, we yield us unto you as man\nof might matchless.\"\n\"As to that,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"I will not take your yielding unto\nme, but so that ye yield you unto Sir Kay the seneschal; on that\ncovenant I will save your lives and else not.\"\n\"Fair knight,\" said they, \"that were we loath to do; for as for Sir Kay\nwe chased him hither, and had overcome him had not ye been; therefore\nto yield us unto him it were no reason.\"\n\"Well, as to that,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"advise you well, for ye may\nchoose whether ye will die or live, for and [_if_] ye be yielden it\nshall be unto Sir Kay.\"\n\"Fair knight,\" then they said, \"in saving our lives we will do as thou\ncommandest us.\"\n\"Then shall ye,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"on Whitsunday next coming go\nunto the court of King Arthur, and there shall ye yield you unto Queen\nGuenever, and put you all three in her grace and mercy, and say that\nSir Kay sent you thither to be her prisoners.\"\n\"Sir,\" they said, \"it shall be done by the faith of our bodies, and we\nbe living.\"\nAnd there they swore, every knight upon his sword. And so Sir Launcelot\nsuffered them so to depart. And then Sir Launcelot knocked at the gate\nwith the pommel of his sword, and with that came his host, and in they\nentered, Sir Kay and he.\n\"Sir,\" said his host, \"I wend ye had been in your bed.\"\n\"So I was,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"but I arose and leaped out at my\nwindow for to help an old fellow of mine.\"\nAnd so when they came nigh the light Sir Kay knew well that it was Sir\nLauncelot, and therewith he kneeled down and thanked him of all his\nkindness that he hath holpen him twice from the death.\n\"Sir,\" he said, \"I have done nothing but that I ought to do, and ye are\nwelcome, and here shall ye repose you and take your rest.\"\nSo when Sir Kay was unarmed he asked after meat, so there was meat\nfetched him, and he ate strongly. And when he had supped they went\nto their beds, and were lodged together in one bed. On the morn Sir\nLauncelot arose early, and left Sir Kay sleeping: and Sir Launcelot\ntook Sir Kay's armor and his shield and armed him: and so he went to\nthe stable and took his horse, and took his leave of his host, and so\nhe departed. Then soon after arose Sir Kay and missed Sir Launcelot:\nand then he espied that he had his armor and his horse.\n\"Now, by my faith, I know well that he will grieve some of King\nArthur's court: for on him knights will be bold, and deem that it is I,\nand that will beguile them; and because of his armor and shield, I am\nsure that I shall ride in peace.\" And then soon after departed Sir Kay,\nand thanked his host.\nNow let us speak of Sir Launcelot, that rode a great while in a deep\nforest, where he saw a black brachet [_small hound_], seeking in\nmanner as it had been in the fealty [_track_] of an hurt deer, and\ntherewith he rode after the brachet; and he saw lie on the ground a\nlarge fealty of blood, and then Sir Launcelot rode after, and ever\nthe brachet looked behind her. And so she went through a great marish\n[_marsh_], and ever Sir Launcelot followed; and then was he ware of\nan old manor, and thither ran the brachet, and so over the bridge.\nSo Sir Launcelot rode over the bridge, that was old and feeble. And\nwhen he came into the midst of a great hall, there saw he lie a dead\nknight, that was a seemly man, and that brachet licked his wounds. And\ntherewith came out a lady weeping and wringing her hands, and she said,\n\"O knight, too much sorrow hast thou brought me.\"\n\"Why say ye so?\" said Sir Launcelot, \"I did never this knight no harm,\nfor hither by track of blood this brachet brought me; and therefore,\nfair lady, be not displeased with me, for I am full sore aggrieved of\nyour grievance.\"\n\"Truly, sir,\" she said, \"I trow it be not ye that have slain my\nhusband, for he that did that deed is sore wounded, and he is never\nlikely to recover, that shall I ensure him.\"\n\"What was your husband's name?\" said Sir Launcelot.\n\"Sir,\" said she, \"his name was called Sir Gilbert, one of the best\nknights of the world, and he that hath slain him I know not his name.\"\n\"Now God send you better comfort,\" said Sir Launcelot.\nAnd so he departed and went into the forest again, and there he met\nwith a damsel, the which knew him well, and she said aloud, \"Well be\nye found, my lord; and now I require thee on thy knighthood help my\nbrother that is sore wounded, and never stinteth bleeding, for this\nday fought he with Sir Gilbert and slew him in plain battle, and there\nwas my brother sore wounded, and there is a lady a sorceress that\ndwelleth in a castle here beside, and this day she told me my brother's\nwounds should never be whole till I could find a knight that would go\ninto the Chapel Perilous, and there he should find a sword and a bloody\ncloth that the wounded knight was lapped in, and a piece of that cloth\nand sword should heal my brother's wounds, so that his wounds were\nsearched [_touched_] with the sword and the cloth.\"\n\"This is a marvellous thing,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"but what is your\nbrother's name?\"\n\"Sir,\" said she, \"his name is Sir Meliot de Logres.\"\n\"That me repenteth,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"for he is a fellow of the\nTable Round, and to his help I will do my power.\"\n\"Then, sir,\" said she, \"follow even this highway, and it will bring you\nunto the Chapel Perilous, and here I shall abide till God send you here\nagain, and but you speed I know no knight living that may achieve that\nadventure.\"\nRight so Sir Launcelot departed, and when he came unto the Chapel\nPerilous he alighted down, and tied his horse to a little gate. And as\nsoon as he was within the church-yard he saw on the front of the chapel\nmany fair rich shields turned up so down [_upside down_], and many of\nthe shields Sir Launcelot had seen knights bear beforehand. With that\nhe saw by him stand there thirty great knights, more by a yard than\nany man that ever he had seen, and all those grinned and gnashed at\nSir Launcelot. And when he saw their countenance he dread him sore,\nand so put his shield afore him, and took his sword in his hand ready\nunto battle; and they were all armed in black harness, ready with their\nshields and their swords drawn. And when Sir Launcelot would have gone\nthroughout them, they scattered on every side of him, and gave him the\nway, and therewith he waxed all bold and entered into the chapel, and\nthen he saw no light but a dim lamp burning, and then was he ware of a\ncorpse covered with a cloth of silk. Then Sir Launcelot stooped down\nand cut a piece away of that cloth, and then it fared under him as\nthe earth had quaked a little; therewithal he feared. And then he saw\na fair sword lie by the dead knight, and that he gat in his hand and\nhied him out of the chapel. Anon as ever he was in the chapel-yard all\nthe knights spake to him with a grimly voice, and said, \"Knight, Sir\nLauncelot, lay that sword from thee, or else thou shalt die.\"\n\"Whether I live or die,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"will no great word get it\nagain, therefore fight for it and ye list.\"\nThen right so he passed throughout them, and beyond the chapel-yard\nthere met him a fair damsel, and said, \"Sir Launcelot, leave that sword\nbehind thee, or thou wilt die for it.\"\n\"I leave it not,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"for no entreaties.\"\n\"No,\" said she, \"and thou didst leave that sword, Queen Guenever should\nye never see.\"\n\"Then were I a fool and I would leave this sword,\" said Launcelot.\n\"Now, gentle knight,\" said the damsel, \"I require thee to kiss me but\nonce.\"\n\"Nay,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"that God me forbid.\"\n\"Well, sir,\" said she, \"and thou hadst kissed me thy life-days had\nbeen done, but now alas,\" she said, \"I have lost all my labor, for I\nordained this chapel for thy sake. And, Sir Launcelot, now I tell thee,\nI have loved thee this seven year. But since I may not have [thee]\nalive, I had kept no more joy in this world but to have [thee] dead.\nThen would I have balmed [thee] and preserved [thee], and so have kept\n[thee] my life-days, and daily I should have kissed thee.\"\n\"Ye say well,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"God preserve me from your subtle\ncrafts.\"\nAnd therewithal he took his horse and so departed from her. And when\nSir Launcelot was departed she took such sorrow that she died within a\nfourteen night [_fortnight_], and her name was Hellawes the sorceress,\nlady of the castle Nigramous. Anon Sir Launcelot met with the damsel,\nSir Meliot's sister. And when she saw him she clapped her hands and\nwept for joy, and then they rode unto a castle thereby, where Sir\nMeliot lay. And anon as Sir Launcelot saw him he knew him, but he was\npale as the earth for bleeding. When Sir Meliot saw Sir Launcelot, he\nkneeled upon his knees and cried on high: \"O lord Sir Launcelot help\nme!\" Anon Sir Launcelot leaped unto him, and touched his wounds with\nSir Gilbert's sword, and then he wiped his wounds with a part of the\nbloody cloth that Sir Gilbert was wrapped in, and anon a wholer man\nin his life was he never. And then there was great joy between them,\nand they made Sir Launcelot all the cheer that they might, and so on\nthe morn Sir Launcelot took his leave, and bade Sir Meliot hie him\nto the court of my lord Arthur, \"for it draweth nigh to the feast of\nPentecost, and there, by the grace of God, ye shall find me.\" And\ntherewith they departed.\nSir Launcelot came home two days afore the feast of Pentecost. And\nKing Arthur and all the court were full glad of his coming. And when\nSir Gawaine, Sir Ewaine, Sir Sagramor, and Sir Ector de Maris saw Sir\nLauncelot in Sir Kay's armor, then they wist well it was he that smote\nthem down all with one spear. Then there was laughing and smiling among\nthem. And ever now and then came all the knights home that Sir Turquine\nhad taken prisoners, and they all honored and worshipped Sir Launcelot.\nWhen Sir Gaheris heard them speak, he said: \"I saw all the battle, from\nthe beginning to the ending.\"\nAnd there he told King Arthur all how it was, and how Sir Turquine was\nthe strongest knight that ever he saw except Sir Launcelot; there were\nmany knights bare him record, nigh threescore. Then Sir Kay told the\nking how Sir Launcelot had rescued him when he was in danger to have\nbeen slain, and how \"he made the knights to yield them to me, and not\nto him.\" And there they were, all three, and bare record. \"And,\" said\nSir Kay, \"because Sir Launcelot took my harness, and left me his, I\nrode in good peace, and no man would have to do with me.\" Then anon\ntherewithal came the three knights that fought with Sir Launcelot at\nthe long bridge, and there they yielded them unto Sir Kay, and Sir Kay\nforsook them, and said he fought never with them; \"but I shall ease\nyour hearts,\" said Sir Kay, \"yonder is Sir Launcelot that overcame\nyou.\" When they understood that, they were glad. And then Sir Meliot\nde Logres came home, and told King Arthur how Sir Launcelot had saved\nhim from the death. And all his deeds were known, how four queens,\nsorceresses, had him in prison, and how he was delivered by King\nBagdemagus' daughter. Also there were told all the great deeds of arms\nthat Sir Launcelot did betwixt the two kings, that is to say, the King\nof Northgalis and King Bagdemagus. All the truth Sir Gahalatine did\ntell, and Sir Mador de la Porte, and Sir Mordred, for they were at that\nsame tournament. Then came in the lady that knew Sir Launcelot when\nthat he wounded Sir Belleus at the pavilion. And there at the request\nof Sir Launcelot, Sir Belleus was made knight of the Round Table.\nAnd so at that time Sir Launcelot had the greatest name of any knight\nof the world, and most he was honored of high and low.\n[On a day, that might be a matter of two years before that feast of\nPentecost whereof it will be told in the Book of Sir Tristram, it\nhappened that Queen Guenever was angered with Sir Launcelot, yet truly\nfor no fault of his, but only because a certain enchantress had wrought\nthat Sir Launcelot seemed to have shamed his knighthood.\nThen the queen was nigh out of her wit, and then she writhed and\nweltered as a mad woman; and at the last the queen met with Sir\nLauncelot, and thus she said,] \"False traitor knight that thou art,\nlook thou never abide in my court, and not so hardy, thou false traitor\nknight that thou art, that ever thou come in my sight.\"\n\"Alas!\" said Sir Launcelot: and therewith he took such an heartly\nsorrow at her words that he fell down to the floor in a swoon. And\ntherewithal Queen Guenever departed. And when Sir Launcelot awoke of\nhis swoon he leaped out at a bay window into a garden, and there with\nthorns he was all to-scratched in his visage and his body, and so he\nran forth he wist not whither, and was wild wood [_insane_] as ever was\nman.\n\"Wit ye well,\" said dame Elaine[12] to Sir Bors, \"I would lose my life\nfor him rather than he should be hurt; but alas, I cast me never for to\nsee him; and the chief causer of this is dame Guenever.\"\n[Footnote 12: This is not Elaine, the maid of Astolat--whom we shall\nmeet hereafter--but another Elaine.]\n\"Madam,\" said dame Brisen, the which had made the enchantment before\nbetwixt Sir Launcelot and her, \"I pray you heartily let Sir Bors\ndepart and hie him with all his might, as fast as he may, to seek Sir\nLauncelot. For I warn you he is clean out of his mind, and yet he shall\nbe well holpen, and but by miracle.\"\nThen wept dame Elaine, and so did Sir Bors de Ganis, and so they\ndeparted; and Sir Bors rode straight unto Queen Guenever, and when she\nsaw Sir Bors she wept as she were wood.\n\"Fie on your weeping,\" said Sir Bors, \"for ye weep never but when\nthere is no boot. Alas!\" said Sir Bors, \"that ever Sir Launcelot's\nkin saw you. For now have ye lost the best knight of our blood, and\nhe that was all our leader and our succor. And I dare say and make\nit good, that all kings, Christian nor heathen, may not find such a\nknight, for to speak of his nobleness and courtesy with his beauty and\nhis gentleness. Alas,\" said Sir Bors, \"what shall we do that be of his\nblood?\"\n\"Alas!\" said Sir Ector de Maris.\n\"Alas!\" said Sir Lionel.\nAnd when the queen heard them say so, she fell to the ground in a\ndeadly sound [_swoon_]; and then Sir Bors took her, and [roused] her,\nand when she was come to herself again she kneeled afore the three\nknights, and held up both her hands, and besought them to seek him, and\nnot to spare for no goods but that he be found, \"for I wot well he is\nout of his mind.\" And Sir Bors, Sir Ector, Sir Lionel, departed from\nthe queen, for they might not abide no longer for sorrow: and then the\nqueen sent them treasure enough for their expenses, and so they took\ntheir horses and their armor, and departed. And then they rode from\ncountry to country, in forests and in wildernesses and in wastes, and\never they laid watch as well both at forests and at all manner of men\nas they rode, to hearken and to inquire after him, as he that was a\nnaked man in his shirt, with a sword in his hand. And thus they rode\nwell nigh a quarter of a year, endlong and overthwart,[13] in many\nplaces, forests and wildernesses, and oftentimes were evil lodged for\nhis sake, and yet for all their labor and seeking could they never hear\nword of him. And wit ye well these three knights were passing sorry.\n[Footnote 13: \"Endlong and overthwart,\" _lengthways and erossways_ of\nthe land.]\nThen Sir Gawaine, Sir Uwaine, Sir Sagramor le Desirous, Sir Agloval,\nand Sir Percival de Galis, took upon them by the great desire of King\nArthur, and in especial by the queen, to seek throughout all England,\nWales, and Scotland, to find Sir Launcelot. And with them rode eighteen\nknights more to bear them fellowship. And wit ye well they lacked no\nmanner of spending: and so were they three and twenty knights.\nAnd thus as these noble knights rode together, they by one assent\ndeparted, and then they rode by two, by three, and by four, and by\nfive; and ever they assigned where they should meet.\nAnd now leave we a little of Sir Ector and Sir Percival, and speak we\nof Sir Launcelot, that suffered and endured many sharp showers, which\never ran wild wood, from place to place, and lived by fruit and such\nas he might get, and drank water, two years; and other clothing had he\nbut little, save his shirt and his breeches. And thus, as Sir Launcelot\nwandered here and there, he came into a fair meadow where he found a\npavilion, and there upon a tree hung a white shield and two swords\nhung thereby, and two spears there leaned against a tree; and when Sir\nLauncelot saw the swords, anon he leaped to the one sword, and took it\nin his hand, and drew it out, and then he lashed at the shield that all\nthe meadow rang of the dints that he gave with such a noise as ten\nknights had fought together. Then there came forth a dwarf, and leaped\nunto Sir Launcelot, and would have had the sword out of his hand;\nand then Sir Launcelot took him by both the shoulders and threw him\nto the ground upon his neck, that he had almost broken his neck; and\ntherewithal the dwarf cried for help. Then came forth a likely knight,\nand well apparelled in scarlet, furred with miniver. And anon as he saw\nSir Launcelot, he deemed that he should be out of his wit: and then\nhe said with fair speech, \"Good man, lay down that sword, for, as me\nseemeth, thou hast more need of sleep, and of warm clothes, than to\nwield that sword.\"\n[Illustration: _And lived by fruit and such as he might get_]\n\"As for that,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"come not too nigh; for, and thou\ndo, wit thou well I will slay thee.\"\nAnd when the knight of the pavilion saw that, he started backward\nwithin the pavilion. And then the dwarf armed him lightly, and so the\nknight thought by force and might to take the sword from Sir Launcelot,\nand so he came stepping out, and when Sir Launcelot saw him come so\nall armed with his sword in his hand, then Sir Launcelot flew to him\nwith such a might and hit him upon the helm such a buffet that the\nstroke troubled his brains, and therewith the sword brake in three. And\nthe knight fell to the earth as he had been dead, the blood bursting\nout of his mouth, nose, and ears. And then Sir Launcelot ran into the\npavilion, and rushed even into the warm bed.\nThen the knight awaked out of his swoon, and looked up weakly with his\neyes, and then he asked where was that mad man that had given him such\na buffet? \"for such a buffet had I never of man's hand.\"\n\"Sir,\" said the dwarf, \"it is not worship to hurt him, for he is a man\nout of his wit, and doubt ye not he hath been a man of great worship,\nand for some heartly sorrow that he hath taken he is fallen mad; and\nme seemeth he resembleth much unto Sir Launcelot; for him I saw at the\ngreat tournament beside Lonazep.\"\n\"Jesu defend,\" said that knight, \"that ever that noble knight Sir\nLauncelot should be in such a plight. But whatsoever he be, harm will I\nnone do him.\"\nAnd this knight's name was Sir Bliant. Then he said unto the dwarf,\n\"Go thou in all haste on horseback unto my brother Sir Seliaunt, that\nis at the Castle Blanche, and tell him of mine adventure, and bid him\nbring with him an horse-litter and then will we bear this knight unto\nmy castle.\"\nSo the dwarf rode fast, and came again, and brought Sir Seliaunt\nwith him, and six men with an horse-litter; and so they took up the\nfeather-bed with Sir Launcelot, and so carried all with them to the\nCastle Blanche, and he never wakened until he was within the castle;\nand then they bound his hands and his feet, and gave him good meats and\ngood drinks, and brought him again to his strength and his fairness;\nbut in his wit they could not bring him again, nor to know himself.\nThus Sir Launcelot was there more than a year and a half.\nThen upon a day this lord of that castle, Sir Bliant, took his arms on\nhorseback with a spear to seek adventures, and as he rode in a forest\nthere met him two knights adventurous; the one was Sir Breuse sans\nPitie, and his brother Sir Bertlot. And these two ran both at once\nupon Sir Bliant, and brake both their spears upon his body, and then\nthey drew out their swords and made a great battle and fought long\ntogether; but at the last Sir Bliant was sore wounded, and felt himself\nfaint, and then he fled on horseback towards his castle. And as they\ncame hurling under the castle, where Sir Launcelot lay in a window and\nsaw two knights laid upon Sir Bliant with their swords, and when Sir\nLauncelot saw that, yet as wood [_crazy_] as he was, he was sorry for\nhis lord Sir Bliant; and then Sir Launcelot brake his chains from his\nlegs.\nAnd so Sir Launcelot ran out at a postern, and there he met with the\ntwo knights that chased Sir Bliant, and there he pulled down Bertlot\nwith his bare hands from his horse, and therewithal he writhed his\nsword out of his hands, and so he leaped unto Sir Breuse, and gave him\nsuch a buffet upon the head that he tumbled backward over his horse's\ncrupper. And when Sir Bertlot saw his brother have such a fall, he gat\na spear in his hand, and would have run Sir Launcelot through. That saw\nSir Bliant, and struck off the hand of Sir Bertlot; and then Sir Breuse\nand Sir Bertlot gat their horses and fled away. When Sir Seliaunt came,\nand saw what Sir Launcelot had done for his brother, then he thanked\nGod, and so did his brother, that ever they did him any good. But when\nSir Bliant saw that Sir Launcelot was hurt with the breaking of his\nchains, then he was sorry that he had bound him. \"Bind him no more,\"\nsaid Sir Seliaunt, \"for he is happy and gracious.\" Then they made great\njoy of Sir Launcelot, and they bound him no more; and so he abode\nthere half a year and more. And in a morning early Sir Launcelot was\nware where came a great boar, with many hounds nigh him; but the boar\nwas so big that there might no hounds tear him, and the hunters came\nafter blowing their horns both on horseback and on foot; and at the\nlast Sir Launcelot was ware where one of them alighted and tied his\nhorse to a tree, and leaned his spear against the tree.\nSo came Sir Launcelot and found the horse bound to a tree, and a\nspear leaning against a tree, and a sword tied unto the saddle-bow.\nAnd then Sir Launcelot leaped into the saddle, and gat that spear in\nhis hand, and then he rode after the boar; and then Sir Launcelot was\nware where the boar set his back to a tree, fast by an hermitage. Then\nSir Launcelot ran at the boar with his spear. And therewith the boar\nturned him nimbly, and rove [_gashed_] out the lungs and the heart of\nthe horse, so that Sir Launcelot fell to the earth, and or ever Sir\nLauncelot might get from the horse, the boar rove him on the brawn of\nthe thigh, up to the hough bone. And then Sir Launcelot was wroth,\nand up he gat upon his feet, and drew his sword, and he smote off the\nboar's head at one stroke. And therewithal came out the hermit, and\nsaw him have such a wound; then the hermit came to Sir Launcelot and\nbemoaned him, and would have had him home unto his hermitage. But when\nSir Launcelot heard him speak, he was so wroth with his wound that he\nran upon the hermit to have slain him, and the hermit ran away, and\nwhen Sir Launcelot might not overget him he threw his sword after him,\nfor Sir Launcelot might go no farther for bleeding. Then the hermit\nturned again, and asked Sir Launcelot how he was hurt.\n\"Fellow,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"this boar hath bitten me sore.\"\n\"Then come with me,\" said the hermit, \"and I shall heal you.\"\n\"Go thy way,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"and deal not with me.\"\nThen the hermit ran his way, and there he met with a good knight with\nmany men.\n\"Sir,\" said the hermit, \"here is fast by my place the goodliest man\nthat ever I saw, and he is sore wounded with a boar, and yet he hath\nslain the boar. But well I wot and he be not holpen, that goodly man\nshall die of that wound, and that were great pity.\"\nThen that knight, at the desire of the hermit, gat a cart, and in that\ncart that knight put the boar and Sir Launcelot, for Sir Launcelot\nwas so feeble that they might right easily deal with him. And so\nSir Launcelot was brought unto the hermitage, and there the hermit\nhealed him of his wound. But the hermit might not find Sir Launcelot's\nsustenance, and so he impaired and waxed feeble, both of his body and\nof his wit, for the default of his sustenance, and waxed more wood than\nhe was aforehand. And then, upon a day, Sir Launcelot ran his way into\nthe forest; and by adventure came into the city of Corbin, where dame\nElaine was.\nAnd so when he was entered into the town, he ran through the town\nto the castle; and then all the young men of the city ran after Sir\nLauncelot, and there they threw turfs at him, and gave him many sad\nstrokes; and as Sir Launcelot might reach any of them, he threw them\nso that they would never more come in his hands, for of some he brake\ntheir legs, and some their arms, and so fled into the castle. And then\ncame out knights and squires for to rescue Sir Launcelot, and when\nthey beheld him and looked upon his person, they thought they saw\nnever so goodly a man; and when they saw so many wounds upon him, they\nall deemed that he had been a man of worship. And then they ordained\nclothes unto his body, and straw underneath him, and a little house,\nand then every day they would throw him meat, and set him drink, but\nthere were few or none that would bring meat to his hands.\nSo it befell that King Pelles had a nephew whose name was Castor, and\nhe desired of the king his uncle for to be made knight; and so at\nthe request of this Castor, the king made him knight at the feast of\nCandlemas. And when Castor was made knight, that same day he gave many\ngowns; and so Sir Castor sent for the fool, that was Sir Launcelot, and\nwhen [Sir Launcelot] saw his time, he went into the garden and there\nlaid him down by a well and slept. And in the afternoon dame Elaine and\nher maidens went into the garden for to play them; and as they roamed\nup and down, one of dame Elaine's maidens espied where lay a goodly man\nby the well sleeping, and anon showed him to dame Elaine.\n\"Peace,\" said dame Elaine, \"and say no word.\"\nAnd then she brought dame Elaine where he lay. And when that she\nbeheld him, anon she fell in remembrance of him, and knew him verily\nfor Sir Launcelot, and therewithal she fell on weeping so heartily that\nshe sank even to the earth. And when she had thus wept a great while,\nthen she arose and called her maidens, and said she was sick. And so\nshe went out of the garden, and she went straight to her father, and\nthere she took him apart by himself, and then she said, \"O father, now\nhave I need of your help, and but if that ye help me, farewell my good\ndays for ever.\"\n\"What is that, daughter?\" said King Pelles.\n\"Sir,\" she said, \"thus is it: in your garden I went for to sport, and\nthere by the well I found Sir Launcelot du Lake sleeping.\"\n\"I may not believe that,\" said King Pelles.\n\"Sir,\" she said, \"truly he is there, and me seemeth he should be\ndistract out of his wit.\"\n\"Then hold you still,\" said the king, \"and let me deal.\"\nThen the king called to him such as he most trusted, four persons, and\ndame Elaine his daughter. And when they came to the well and beheld Sir\nLauncelot, anon dame Brisen knew him.\n\"Sir,\" said dame Brisen, \"we must be wise how we deal with him, for\nthis knight is out of his mind, and if we awake him rudely, what he\nwill do we all know not. But ye shall abide, and I shall throw such an\nenchantment upon him that he shall not awake within the space of an\nhour.\"\nAnd so she did. Then within a little while after King Pelles commanded\nthat all people should avoid [_leave_], that none should be in that\nway there as the king would come. And so when this was done, these four\nmen and these ladies laid hand on Sir Launcelot. And so they bare him\ninto a tower, and so into the chamber where as was the [Holy Grail],\nand by force Sir Launcelot was laid by that holy vessel; and then there\ncame an holy man and uncovered the vessel, and so by miracle, and by\nvirtue of that holy vessel, Sir Launcelot was all healed and recovered.\nAnd when he was awaked, he groaned, and sighed sore, and complained\ngreatly that he was passing sore.\nAnd when Sir Launcelot saw King Pelles and dame Elaine, he waxed\nashamed, and thus he said, \"O good Lord Jesu, how came I here? for\nGod's sake, my lord, let me wit how I came here.\"\n\"Sir,\" said dame Elaine, \"into this country ye came like a mad man all\nout of your wit, and here ye have been kept as a fool, and no creature\nhere knew what ye were till that by fortune a maid of mine brought\nme unto you where as ye lay sleeping by a well side, and anon as I\nverily beheld you I knew you; and then I told my father, and so ye were\nbrought before this holy vessel, and by the virtue of it thus were ye\nhealed.\"\n\"O Jesu, mercy!\" said Sir Launcelot, \"if this be sooth, how many be\nthere that know of my woodness?\"\n\"So God me help,\" said dame Elaine, \"no moe [_more_] but my father and\nI and dame Brisen.\"\n\"Now for Christ's love,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"keep it secret, and let\nno man know it in the world, for I am sore ashamed that I have been\nthus miscarried, for I am banished out of the country of Logris for\never, that is for to say the country of England.\"\nAnd so Sir Launcelot lay more than a fortnight, or ever that he might\nstir for soreness.\nAnd then after this King Pelles with ten knights, and dame Elaine and\ntwenty ladies, rode unto the castle of Bliant, that stood in an island\nenclosed in iron, with a fair water, deep and large. And when they\nwere there Sir Launcelot let call it the Joyous Isle, and there was he\ncalled none otherwise but Le Chevalier Mal Fait, _the knight that hath\ntrespassed_. Then Sir Launcelot let make him a shield all of sable, and\na queen crowned in the midst all of silver, and a knight, clean armed,\nkneeling before her; and every day once, for any mirths that all the\nladies might make him, he would once every day look towards the realm\nof Logris where King Arthur and Queen Guenever were, and then would\nhe fall upon weeping as though his heart should to-brast [_burst to\npieces_]. So it fell that time that Sir Launcelot heard of a jousting\nfast by his castle, within three leagues. Then he called unto him a\ndwarf, and he bade him go unto that jousting, \"and, or ever the knights\ndepart, look thou make there a cry in the hearing of all the knights,\nthat there is one knight in the Joyous Isle, that is the castle Bliant,\nand say that his name is Le Chevalier Mal Fait, that will joust against\nknights that will come; and who that putteth that knight to the worst\nshall have a fair maid and a gerfalcon.\"\nSo when this cry was made, unto Joyous Isle drew knights to the number\nof five hundred. And wit ye well there was never seen in Arthur's days\none knight that did so much deeds of arms as Sir Launcelot did three\ndays together. For he had the better of all the five hundred knights,\nand there was not one slain of them. And after that Sir Launcelot made\nthem all a great feast. And in the meanwhile came Sir Percival de Galis\nand Sir Ector de Maris under that castle that was called the Joyous\nIsle. And as they beheld that gay castle they would have gone to that\ncastle, but they might not for the broad water, and bridge could they\nfind none. Then they saw on the other side a lady with a sperhawk in\nher hand, and Sir Percival called unto her, and asked that lady who was\nin that castle.\n\"Fair knight,\" she said, \"here within this castle is the fairest lady\nin this land, and her name is Elaine. Also we have in this castle the\nfairest knight and the mightiest man that is, I dare say, living, and\nhe calleth himself Le Chevalier Mal Fait.\"\n\"How came he into these marches?\" said Sir Percival.\n\"Truly,\" said the damsel, \"he came into this country like a mad man,\nwith dogs and boys chasing him through the city of Corbin; and by the\nHoly Grail he was brought into his wit again, but he will not do battle\nwith no knight but by underne [_nine in the morning_] or by noon. And\nif ye list to come into the castle, ye must ride unto the farther side\nof the castle, and there shall ye find a vessel that will bear you and\nyour horse.\"\nThen they departed and came unto the vessel. And then Sir Percival\nalighted and said unto Sir Ector de Maris, \"Ye shall abide me here,\nuntil I know what manner of knight he is, for it were a great shame\nunto us, inasmuch as he is but one knight, and we should both do battle\nwith him.\"\n\"Do as ye list,\" said Sir Ector de Maris, \"here shall I abide you until\nthat I hear of you again.\"\nThen Sir Percival passed the water; and when he came unto the castle\ngate, he said to the porter, \"Go thou unto the good knight within the\ncastle, and tell him that here is come an errant knight to joust with\nhim.\"\n\"Sir,\" said the porter, \"ride ye within the castle, and there shall ye\nfind a common place for jousting, that lords and ladies may behold you.\"\nSo anon as Sir Launcelot had warning, he was soon ready. And there Sir\nPercival and Sir Launcelot encountered with such a might, and their\nspears were so rude, that both the horses and the knights fell to the\nground. And then they avoided their horses, and drew out their swords,\nand hewed away cantels [_pieces_] of their shields, and hurled together\nwith their shields like two wild boars, and either wounded other\npassing sore. And at the last Sir Percival spake first, when they had\nfought more than two hours.\n\"Fair knight,\" said Sir Percival, \"I require thee tell me thy name, for\nI met never with such a knight as ye are.\"\n\"Sir,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"my name is Le Chevalier Mal Fait. Now tell\nme your name,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"I require you, as ye are a gentle\nknight.\"\n\"Truly,\" said Sir Percival, \"my name is Sir Percival de Galis, which is\nbrother unto the good knight Sir Lamorak de Galis, and King Pellinore\nwas our father, and Sir Agloval is my brother.\"\n\"Alas!\" said Sir Launcelot, \"what have I done, to fight with you that\nare a knight of the Round Table, that some time was your fellow in King\nArthur's court?\"\nAnd therewithal Sir Launcelot kneeled down upon his knees, and threw\naway his shield and his sword from him. When Sir Percival saw him do\nso, he marvelled what he meant. And then thus he said, \"Sir knight,\nwhatsoever thou be, I require thee upon the high order of knighthood,\ntell me thy true name.\"\nThen he said, \"Truly my name is Sir Launcelot du Lake, King Ban's son\nof Benoy.\"\n\"Alas!\" said Sir Percival, \"what have I done! I was sent by the queen\nfor to seek you, and so I have sought you nigh this two year; and\nyonder is Sir Ector de Maris your brother abideth me on the other side\nof the yonder water. Now I pray you forgive me mine offence that I have\nhere done.\"\n\"It is soon forgiven,\" said Sir Launcelot.\nThen Sir Percival sent for Sir Ector de Maris. And when Sir Launcelot\nhad a sight of him, he ran unto him and took him in his arms, and then\nSir Ector kneeled down and either wept upon other, that all had pity\nto behold them. Then came dame Elaine, and she there made them great\ncheer as might lie in her power; and there she told Sir Ector and Sir\nPercival how and in what manner Sir Launcelot came into that country,\nand how he was healed. And there it was known how long Sir Launcelot\nwas with Sir Bliant and with Sir Seliaunt, and how he first met with\nthem, and how he departed from them because of a boar; and how the\nhermit healed Sir Launcelot of his great wound, and how that he came to\nCorbin.\n\"Sir,\" said Sir Ector, \"I am your own brother, and ye are the man in\nthe world that I love most, and, if I understood that it were your\ndisworship, ye may right well understand that I would never counsel\nyou thereto; but King Arthur and all his knights, and in especial\nQueen Guenever, made such dole and sorrow that it was marvel to hear\nand see. And ye must remember the great worship and renown that ye be\nof, how that ye have been more spoken of than any other knight that\nis now living, for there is none that beareth the name now but ye and\nSir Tristram. Therefore, brother,\" said Sir Ector, \"make you ready to\nride unto the court with us, and I dare well say there was never knight\nbetter welcome unto the court than ye. And I wot well and can make it\ngood,\" said Sir Ector, \"it hath cost my lady the queen twenty thousand\npound the seeking of you.\"\n\"Well, brother,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"I will do after your counsel and\nride with you.\"\nSo then they took their horses, and made them ready, and took their\nleave of King Pelles and of dame Elaine; and when Sir Launcelot should\ndepart, dame Elaine made great sorrow.\nThen they departed, and within five days' journey they came to Camelot,\nwhich is called, in English, Winchester. And when Sir Launcelot was\ncome among them, the king and all the knights made great joy of him;\nand there Sir Percival de Galis and Sir Ector de Maris began to tell\nof all the adventures, how Sir Launcelot had been out of his mind all\nthe time of his absence, how he called himself Le Chevalier Mal Fait,\nas much as to say the knight that had trespassed, and in three days Sir\nLauncelot smote down five hundred knights. And ever as Sir Ector and\nSir Percival told these tales of Sir Launcelot, Queen Guenever wept as\nshe would have died; then afterward the queen made great joy.\n\"O Jesu!\" said King Arthur, \"I marvel for what cause ye, Sir Launcelot,\nwent out of your mind?\"\n\"My lord,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"if I did any folly, I have found that I\nsought.\"\nAnd so the king held him still, and spake no more; but all Sir\nLauncelot's kin knew for whom he went out of his mind. And then there\nwere great feasts made and great joy, and many great lords and ladies,\nwhen they heard that Sir Launcelot was come to the court again, made\ngreat joy.\n OF SIR GARETH OF ORKNEY\nWhen Arthur held his Round Table most fully, it fortuned that he\ncommanded that the high feast of Pentecost should be holden at a city\nand a castle, the which in those days was called King-Kenadon, upon\nthe sands that marched [_bordered_] nigh Wales. So ever the king had a\ncustom that at the feast of Pentecost, in especial afore other feasts\nin the year, he would not go that day to meat until he had heard or\nseen of a great marvel. And for that custom all manner of strange\nadventures came before Arthur as at that feast before all other feasts.\nAnd so Sir Gawaine, a little tofore noon of the day of Pentecost,\nespied at a window three men upon horseback and a dwarf on foot. And so\nthe three men alighted, and the dwarf kept their horses, and one of the\nthree men was higher than the other twain by a foot and a half. Then\nSir Gawaine went unto the king and said, \"Sir, go to your meat, for\nhere at hand come strange adventures.\"\nSo Arthur went unto his meat with many other kings. And there were\nall the knights of the Round Table, save those that were prisoners or\nslain at a rencounter. Then at the high feast evermore they should\nbe fulfilled the whole number of an hundred and fifty, for then was\nthe Round Table fully accomplished. Right so came into the hall two\nmen well beseen and richly, and upon their shoulders there leaned the\ngoodliest young man and the fairest that ever they all saw, and he\nwas large and long, and broad in the shoulders, and well visaged, and\nthe fairest and the largest handed that ever man saw, but he fared as\nthough he might not go nor bear himself but if he leaned upon their\nshoulders. Anon as Arthur saw him, there was made peace [_silence_]\nand room, and right so they went with him unto the high dais, without\nsaying of any words. Then this big young man pulled him aback, and\neasily stretched up straight, saying, \"King Arthur, God you bless, and\nall your fair fellowship, and in especial the fellowship of the Table\nRound. And for this cause I am come hither, to pray you and require\nyou to give me three gifts, and they shall not be unreasonably asked,\nbut that ye may worshipfully and honorably grant them me, and to you\nno great hurt nor loss. And as for the first gift I will ask now, and\nthe other two gifts I will ask this day twelvemonth wheresoever ye hold\nyour high feast.\"\n\"Now ask,\" said Arthur, \"and ye shall have your asking.\"\n\"Now, sir, this is my petition for this feast, that ye will give me\nmeat and drink sufficiently for this twelvemonth, and at that day I\nwill ask mine other two gifts.\"\n\"My fair son,\" said Arthur, \"ask better, I counsel thee, for this is\nbut a simple asking, for my heart giveth me to thee greatly that thou\nart come of men of worship, and greatly my conceit faileth me but thou\nshalt prove a man of right great worship.\"\n\"Sir,\" said he, \"thereof be as it may, I have asked that I will ask.\"\n\"Well,\" said the king, \"ye shall have meat and drink enough, I never\ndefended that none, neither my friend nor my foe. But what is thy name\nI would wit?\"\n\"I cannot tell you,\" said he.\n\"That is marvel,\" said the king, \"that thou knowest not thy name, and\nthou art the goodliest young man that ever I saw.\"\nThen the king betook him to Sir Kay, the steward, and charged him that\nhe should give him of all manner of meats and drinks of the best, and\nalso that he had all manner of finding as though he were a lord's son.\n\"That shall little need,\" said Sir Kay, \"to do such cost upon him;\nfor I dare undertake he is a villain born, and never will make man,\nfor and he had come of gentlemen he would have asked of you horse and\narmor, but such as he is, so he asketh. And since he hath no name, I\nshall give him a name: that shall be Beaumains, that is Fairhands, and\ninto the kitchen I shall bring him, and there he shall have fat browis\n[_broth_] every day, that he shall be as fat by the twelvemonth's end\nas a pork hog.\"\nRight so the two men departed, and left him to Sir Kay, that scorned\nhim and mocked him.\nThereat was Sir Gawaine wroth, and in especial Sir Launcelot bade Sir\nKay leave his mocking, \"for I dare lay my head he shall prove a man of\ngreat worship.\"\n\"Let be,\" said Sir Kay, \"it may not be, by no reason, for as he is, so\nhath he asked.\"\n\"Beware,\" said Sir Launcelot; \"so ye gave the good knight Brewnor, Sir\nDinadan's brother, a name, and ye called him La Cote Mal Taile, and\nthat turned you to anger afterward.\"\n\"As for that,\" said Sir Kay, \"this shall never prove none such; for\nSir Brewnor desired ever worship, and this desireth bread and drink,\nand broth; upon pain of my life he was fostered up in some abbey, and,\nhowsoever it was, they failed meat and drink, and so hither he is come\nfor his sustenance.\"\nAnd so Sir Kay bade get him a place and sit down to meat, so Beaumains\nwent to the hall door, and set him down among boys and lads, and there\nhe eat sadly. And then Sir Launcelot after meat bade him come to his\nchamber, and there he should have meat and drink enough. And so did\nSir Gawaine, but he refused them all; he would do none other but as\nSir Kay commanded him, for no proffer. But as touching Sir Gawaine, he\nhad reason to proffer him lodging, meat, and drink, for that proffer\ncame of his blood, for he was nearer kin to him than he wist. But that\nSir Launcelot did was of his great gentleness and courtesy. So thus he\nwas put into the kitchen, and lay nightly as the boys of the kitchen\ndid. And so he endured all that twelvemonth, and never displeased\nman nor child, but always he was meek and mild. But ever when he saw\nany jousting of knights, that would he see and he might. And ever\nSir Launcelot would give him gold to spend, and clothes, and so did\nSir Gawaine. And where were any masteries done thereat would he be,\nand there might none cast the bar or stone to him by two yards. Then\nwould Sir Kay say, \"How like you my boy of the kitchen?\" So it passed\non till the feast of Pentecost, and at that time the king held it at\nCaerleon, in the most royallest wise that might be, like as yearly\nhe did. But the king would eat no meat on the Whitsunday till he had\nheard of some adventure. And then came there a squire to the king, and\nsaid, \"Sir, ye may go to your meat, for here cometh a damsel with some\nstrange adventure.\" Then was the king glad, and set him down. Right so\nthere came in a damsel, and saluted the king, and prayed him for succor.\n\"For whom?\" said the king: \"what is the adventure?\"\n\"Sir,\" said she, \"I have a lady of great worship and renown, and she is\nbesieged with a tyrant, so that she may not go out of her castle, and\nbecause that here in your court are called the noblest knights of the\nworld, I come unto you and pray you for succor.\"\n\"What call ye your lady, and where dwelleth she, and who is he and what\nis his name that hath besieged her?\"\n\"Sir king,\" said she, \"as for my lady's name, that shall not be known\nfor me as at this time; but I let you wit she is a lady of great\nworship, and of great lands. And as for the tyrant that besiegeth her\nand destroyeth her land, he is called the Red Knight of the Red Lawns.\"\n\"I know him not,\" said the king.\n\"Sir,\" said Sir Gawaine, \"I know him well, for he is one of the\nperilous knights of the world; men say that he hath seven men's\nstrength, and from him I escaped once full hard with my life.\"\n\"Fair damsel,\" said the king, \"there be knights here that would do\ntheir power to rescue your lady, but because ye will not tell her name\nnor where she dwelleth, therefore none of my knights that be here now\nshall go with you by my will.\"\n\"Then must I speak further,\" said the damsel.\nThen with these words came before the king Beaumains, while the damsel\nwas there; and thus he said: \"Sir king, God thank you, I have been this\ntwelve months in your kitchen, and have had my full sustenance, and now\nI will ask my two gifts that be behind.\"\n\"Ask upon my peril,\" said the king.\n\"Sir, these shall be my two gifts: first, that ye will grant me to have\nthis adventure of the damsel, for it belongeth to me.\"\n\"Thou shalt have it,\" said the king; \"I grant it thee.\"\n\"Then, sir, this is now the other gift: that ye shall bid Sir Launcelot\ndu Lake to make me a knight, for of him I will be made knight, and else\nof none; and when I am passed, I pray you let him ride after me, and\nmake me knight when I require him.\"\n\"All this shall be done,\" said the king.\n\"Fie on thee,\" said the damsel; \"shall I have none but one that is your\nkitchen page?\"\nThen was she wroth, and took her horse and departed. And with that\nthere came one to Beaumains, and told him that his horse and armor\nwas come for him, and there was a dwarf come with all things that him\nneeded in the richest manner. Thereat all the court had much marvel\nfrom whence came all that gear. So when he was armed, there was none\nbut few so goodly a man as he was. And right so he came into the hall,\nand took his leave of King Arthur and of Sir Gawaine, and of Sir\nLauncelot, and prayed him that he would hie after him; and so departed\nand rode after the damsel.\nBut there went many after to behold how well he was horsed and trapped\nin cloth of gold, but he had neither shield nor spear. Then Sir Kay\nsaid openly in the hall: \"I will ride after my boy of the kitchen, for\nto wit [_know_] whether he will know me for his better.\"\nSir Launcelot and Sir Gawaine said, \"Yet abide at home.\"\nSo Sir Kay made him ready, and took his horse and his spear, and rode\nafter him. And right as Beaumains overtook the damsel, right so came\nSir Kay, and said, \"Beaumains, what sir, know ye not me?\"\nThen he turned his horse, and knew it was Sir Kay, that had done him\nall the despite as ye have heard afore.\n\"Yea,\" said Beaumains, \"I know you for an ungentle knight of the court,\nand therefore beware of me.\"\nTherewith Sir Kay put his spear in the rest and ran straight upon him,\nand Beaumains came as fast upon him with his sword in his hand; and so\nhe put away his spear with his sword, and with a foin [_feint_] thrust\nhim through the side, that Sir Kay fell down as he had been dead, and\nhe alighted down and took Sir Kay's shield and his spear, and started\nupon his own horse, and rode his way. All that saw Sir Launcelot, and\nso did the damsel. And then he bade his dwarf start upon Sir Kay's\nhorse, and so he did. By that Sir Launcelot was come. Then he proffered\nSir Launcelot to joust, and either made them ready, and came together\nso fiercely that either bare down other to the earth, and sore were\nthey bruised. Then Sir Launcelot arose and helped him from his horse.\nAnd then Beaumains threw his shield from him, and proffered to fight\nwith Sir Launcelot on foot, and so they rushed together like boars,\ntracing, racing, and foining, to the mountenance [_amount_] of an hour,\nand Sir Launcelot felt him so big that he marvelled of his strength,\nfor he fought more like a giant than a knight, and that his fighting\nwas durable and passing perilous. For Sir Launcelot had so much ado\nwith him that he dreaded himself to be shamed, and said, \"Beaumains,\nfight not so sore, your quarrel and mine is not so great but we may\nleave off.\"\n\"Truly, that is truth,\" said Beaumains, \"but it doth me good to feel\nyour might, and yet, my lord, I showed not the uttermost.\"\n\"Well,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"for I promise you by the faith of my body\nI had as much to do as I might to save myself from you unshamed, and\ntherefore have ye no doubt of none earthly knight.\"\n\"Hope ye so that I may any while stand a proved knight?\" said Beaumains.\n\"Yea,\" said Launcelot, \"do ye as ye have done, and I shall be your\nwarrant.\"\n\"Then, I pray you,\" said Beaumains, \"give me the order of knighthood.\"\n\"Then must ye tell me your name,\" said Launcelot, \"and of what kin ye\nbe born.\"\n\"Sir, so that ye will not discover me I shall,\" said Beaumains.\n\"Nay,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"and that I promise you by the faith of my\nbody, until it be openly known.\"\n\"Then, Sir,\" he said, \"my name is Gareth, and brother unto Sir Gawaine,\nof father and mother.\"\n\"Ah! Sir,\" said Launcelot, \"I am more gladder of you than I was, for\never me thought ye should be of great blood, and that ye came not to\nthe court neither for meat nor for drink.\"\nAnd then Sir Launcelot gave him the order of knighthood. And then Sir\nGareth prayed him for to depart, and let him go. So Sir Launcelot\ndeparted from him and came to Sir Kay, and made him to be borne home\nupon his shield, and so he was healed hard with the life, and all men\nscorned Sir Kay, and in especial Sir Gawaine and Sir Launcelot said it\nwas not his part to rebuke [any] young man, for full little knew he of\nwhat birth he is come, and for what cause he came to this court. And so\nwe leave off Sir Kay and turn we unto Beaumains. When he had overtaken\nthe damsel anon she said, \"What dost thou here? thou stinkest all of\nthe kitchen, thy clothes be foul of the grease and tallow that thou\ngainedst in King Arthur's kitchen; weenest thou,\" said she, \"that I\nallow thee for yonder knight that thou killedst? Nay truly, for thou\nslewest him unhappily and cowardly, therefore return again, kitchen\npage. I know thee well, for Sir Kay named thee Beaumains. What art thou\nbut a turner of broaches and a washer of dishes!\"\n\"Damsel,\" said Sir Beaumains, \"say to me what ye list, I will not go\nfrom you whatsoever ye say, for I have undertaken of King Arthur for to\nachieve your adventure, and I shall finish it to the end, or I shall\ndie therefor.\"\n\"Fie on thee, kitchen knave. Wilt thou finish mine adventure? thou\nshalt anon be met withal, that thou wouldest not, for all the broth\nthat ever thou suppest, once look him in the face.\"\n\"I shall assay,\" said Beaumains. So as they thus rode in the wood,\nthere came a man flying all that he might.\n\"Whither wilt thou?\" said Beaumains.\n\"O lord,\" said he, \"help me, for hereby in a slade are six thieves\nwhich have taken my lord and bound him, and I am afraid lest they will\nslay him.\"\n\"Bring me thither,\" said Sir Beaumains.\nAnd so they rode together till they came there as the knight was bound;\nand then he rode unto the thieves, and struck one at the first stroke\nto death, and then another, and at the third stroke he slew the third\nthief; and then the other three fled, and he rode after and overtook\nthem, and then those three thieves turned again and hard assailed Sir\nBeaumains; but at the last he slew them; and then returned and unbound\nthe knight. And the knight thanked him, and prayed him to ride with him\nto his castle there a little beside, and he should worshipfully reward\nhim for his good deeds.\n\"Sir,\" said Sir Beaumains, \"I will no reward have; I was this day made\nknight of the noble Sir Launcelot, and therefore I will have no reward,\nbut God reward me. And also I must follow this damsel.\"\nAnd when he came nigh her, she bade him ride from her, \"for thou\nsmellest all of the kitchen. Weenest thou that I have joy of thee? for\nall this deed that thou hast done is but mishappened thee. But thou\nshalt see a sight that shall make thee to turn again, and that lightly.\"\n[Then all the next day] this Beaumains rode with that lady till\neven-song time, and ever she chid him and would not rest. And then they\ncame to a black lawn, and there was a black hawthorn, and thereon hung\na black banner, and on the other side there hung a black shield, and by\nit stood a black spear and a long, and a great black horse covered with\nsilk, and a black stone fast by it.\nThere sat a knight all armed in black harness, and his name was the\nKnight of the Black Lawns. When the damsel saw the black knight, she\nbade Sir Beaumains flee down the valley, for his horse was not saddled.\n\"I thank you,\" said Sir Beaumains, \"for always ye will have me a\ncoward.\"\nWith that the black knight came to the damsel, and said, \"Fair damsel,\nhave ye brought this knight from King Arthur's court to be your\nchampion?\"\n\"Nay, fair knight,\" said she, \"this is but a kitchen knave, that hath\nbeen fed in King Arthur's kitchen for alms.\"\n\"Wherefore cometh he in such array?\" said the knight: \"it is great\nshame that he beareth you company.\"\n\"Sir, I cannot be delivered of him,\" said the damsel, \"for with me he\nrideth maugre [_in spite of_] mine head; would to God ye would put him\nfrom me, or else to slay him if ye may, for he is an unhappy knave, and\nunhappy hath he done to-day through misadventure; for I saw him slay\ntwo knights at the passage of the water, and other deeds he did before\nright marvellous, and all through unhappiness.\"\n\"That marvelleth me,\" said the black knight, \"that any man the which is\nof worship will have to do with him.\"\n\"Sir, they know him not,\" said the damsel, \"and because he rideth with\nme they think he is some man of worship born.\"\n\"That may be,\" said the black knight, \"howbeit, as ye say that he be\nno man of worship, he is a full likely person, and full like to be a\nstrong man; but thus much shall I grant you,\" said the black knight,\n\"I shall put him down upon his feet, and his horse and his harness he\nshall leave with me, for it were shame to me to do him any more harm.\"\nWhen Sir Beaumains heard him say thus, he said, \"Sir knight, thou art\nfull liberal of my horse and my harness. I let thee wit it cost thee\nnought, and whether it liketh thee or not this lawn will I pass, maugre\nthine head, and horse nor harness gettest thou none of me, but if thou\nwin them with thy hands; and therefore let see what thou canst do.\"\n\"Sayst thou that?\" said the black knight, \"now yield thy lady from\nthee, for it beseemeth never a kitchen page to ride with such a lady.\"\n\"Thou liest,\" said Beaumains, \"I am a gentleman born, and of more high\nlineage than thou, and that will I prove on thy body.\"\nThen in great wrath they departed with their horses, and came together\nas it had been the thunder; and the black knight's spear brake, and\nBeaumains thrust him through both his sides, and therewith his spear\nbrake, and the truncheon left still in his side. But nevertheless the\nblack knight drew his sword, and smote many eager strokes and of great\nmight, and hurt Beaumains full sore. But at the last the black knight\nwithin an hour and a half he fell down off his horse in a swoon, and\nthere he died. And then Beaumains saw him so well horsed and armed,\nthen he alighted down, and armed him in his armor, and so took his\nhorse, and rode after the damsel. When she saw him come nigh, she\nsaid, \"Away, kitchen knave, out of the wind, for the smell of thy foul\nclothes grieveth me. Alas,\" she said, \"that ever such a knave as thou\nart should by mishap slay so good a knight as thou hast done, but all\nthis is thine unhappiness. But hereby is one shall pay thee all thy\npayment, and therefore yet I counsel thee, flee.\"\n\"It may happen me,\" said Beaumains, \"to be beaten or slain, but I warn\nyou, fair damsel, I will not flee away for him, nor leave your company\nfor all that ye can say; for ever ye say that they slay me or beat\nme, but how soever it happeneth I escape, and they lie on the ground,\nand therefore it were as good for you to hold you still, than thus to\nrebuke me all day, for away will I not till I feel the uttermost of\nthis journey, or else I will be slain or truly beaten; therefore ride\non your way, for follow you I will, whatsoever happen.\"\nThus as they rode together they saw a knight come driving by them all\nin green, both his horse and his harness, and when he came nigh the\ndamsel he asked of her, \"Is that my brother, the black knight, that ye\nhave brought with you?\"\n\"Nay, nay,\" said she, \"this unhappy kitchen knave hath slain your\nbrother through unhappiness.\"\n\"Alas!\" said the green knight, \"that is great pity that so noble a\nknight as he was should so unhappily be slain, and namely of a knave's\nhand, as ye say he is. Ah, traitor!\" said the green knight, \"thou shalt\ndie for slaying of my brother; he was a full noble knight, and his name\nwas Sir Periard.\"\n\"I defy thee,\" said Sir Beaumains, \"for I let thee to wit I slew him\nknightly, and not shamefully.\"\nTherewithal the green knight rode unto an horn that was green, and it\nhung upon a thorn, and there he blew three deadly notes, and there came\nthree damsels that lightly armed him. And then took he a great horse,\nand a green shield and a green spear. And then they ran together with\nall their mights, and brake their spears unto their hands. And then\nthey drew their swords, and gave many sad strokes, and either of them\nwounded other full ill. And at the last at an overthwart Beaumains'\nhorse struck the green knight's horse upon the side [that] he fell\nto the earth. And then the green knight avoided his horse lightly,\nand dressed him upon foot. That saw Beaumains, and therewithal he\nalighted, and they rushed together like two mighty champions a long\nwhile, and sore they bled both. With that came the damsel and said, \"My\nlord the green knight, why for shame stand ye so long fighting with the\nkitchen knave? Alas, it is shame that ever ye were made knight, to see\nsuch a lad match such a knight as the weed overgrew the corn.\"\nTherewith the green knight was ashamed, and therewithal he gave a great\nstroke of might, and clave his shield through. When Beaumains saw his\nshield cloven asunder he was a little ashamed of that stroke, and of\nher language; and then he gave him such a buffet upon the helm that he\nfell on his knees; and so suddenly Beaumains pulled him upon the ground\ngrovelling. And then the green knight cried him mercy, and yielded him\nunto Sir Beaumains, and prayed him to slay him not.\n\"All is in vain,\" said Beaumains, \"for thou shalt die, but if this\ndamsel that came with me pray me to save thy life.\"\nAnd therewithal he unlaced his helm, like as he would slay him.\n\"Fie upon thee, false kitchen page, I will never pray thee to save his\nlife, for I never will be so much in thy danger.\"\n\"Then shall he die,\" said Beaumains.\n\"Not so hardy, thou foul knave,\" said the damsel, \"that thou slay him.\"\n\"Alas,\" said the green knight, \"suffer me not to die, for a fair word\nmay save my life. O fair knight,\" said the green knight, \"save my life,\nand I will forgive the death of my brother, and for ever to become thy\nman, and thirty knights that hold of me for ever shall do you service.\"\nSaid the damsel, \"That such a kitchen knave should have thee and thirty\nknights' service!\"\n\"Sir knight,\" said Sir Beaumains, \"all this availeth not, but if my\ndamsel speak with me for thy life.\"\nAnd therewithal he made resemblance to slay him.\n\"Let be,\" said the damsel, \"thou knave, slay him not, for if thou do,\nthou shalt repent it.\"\n\"Damsel,\" said Sir Beaumains, \"your charge is to me a pleasure, and at\nyour commandment his life shall be saved, and else not.\"\nThen he said, \"Sir knight with the green arms, I release thee quit\n[_acquitted_] at this damsel's request, for I will not make her wroth,\nI will fulfil all that she chargeth me.\"\nAnd then the green knight kneeled down and did him homage with his\nsword.\nAnd always the damsel rebuked Sir Beaumains. And so that night they\nwent unto rest, and all that night the green knight commanded thirty\nknights privily to watch Beaumains, for to keep him from all treason.\nAnd so on the morn they all arose, and heard their mass and brake their\nfast, and then they took their horses and rode on their way, and the\ngreen knight conveyed them through the forest, and there the green\nknight said, \"My lord Beaumains, I and these thirty knights shall be\nalway at your summons, both early and late, at your calling, and where\nthat ever ye will send us.\"\n\"It is well said,\" said Beaumains; \"when that I call upon you ye must\nyield you unto King Arthur and all your knights.\"\n\"If that ye so command us, we shall be ready at all times,\" said the\ngreen knight.\n\"Fie, fie upon thee,\" said the damsel, \"that any good knights should be\nobedient unto a kitchen knave.\"\nSo then departed the green knight and the damsel. And then she said\nunto Beaumains, \"Why followest thou me, thou kitchen boy, cast away thy\nshield and thy spear and flee away, yet I counsel thee betimes, or thou\nshalt say right soon, Alas!\"\n\"Damsel,\" said Sir Beaumains, \"ye are uncourteous so to rebuke me\nas ye do, for meseemeth I have done you great service, and ever ye\nthreaten me for I shall be beaten with knights that we meet, but ever\nfor all your boast they lie in the dust or in the mire, and therefore\nI pray you rebuke me no more; and when ye see me beaten or yielden as\nrecreant, then may ye bid me go from you shamefully, but first I let\nyou wit I will not depart from you, for I were worse than a fool and I\nwould depart from you all the while that I win worship.\"\n\"Well,\" said she, \"right soon there shall meet a knight shall pay thee\nall thy wages, for he is the most man of worship of the world, except\nKing Arthur.\"\n\"I will well,\" said Beaumains; \"the more he is of worship the more\nshall be my worship to have ado with him.\"\nThen anon they were ware where was before them a city rich and fair.\nAnd betwixt them and the city a mile and a half there was a fair meadow\nthat seemed new mown, and therein were many pavilions fair to behold.\n\"Lo,\" said the damsel, \"yonder is a lord that owneth yonder city, and\nhis custom is when the weather is fair to lie in this meadow to joust\nand tourney; and ever there be about him five hundred knights and\ngentlemen of arms, and there be all manner of games that any gentleman\ncan devise.\"\n\"That goodly lord,\" said Beaumains, \"would I fain see.\"\n\"Thou shalt see him time enough,\" said the damsel.\nAnd so as she rode near she espied the pavilion where he was.\n\"Lo,\" said she, \"seest thou yonder pavilion, that is all of the color\nof Inde, and all manner of thing that there is about, men and women,\nand horses trapped, shields and spears, all of the color of Inde, and\nhis name is Sir Persant of Inde, the most lordliest knight that ever\nthou lookedst on.\"\n\"It may well be,\" said Beaumains, \"but be he never so stout a knight,\nin this field I shall abide till that I see him under his shield.\"\n\"Ah, fool,\" said she, \"thou wert better flee betimes.\"\n\"Why,\" said Beaumains, \"and he be such a knight as ye make him, he will\nnot set upon me with all his men, or with his five hundred knights. For\nand there come no more but one at once, I shall him not fail whilst my\nlife lasteth.\"\n\"Fie, fie,\" said the damsel, \"that ever such a dirty knave should blow\nsuch a boast.\"\n\"Damsel,\" he said, \"ye are to blame so to rebuke me, for I had liever\ndo five battles than so to be rebuked; let him come, and then let him\ndo his worst.\"\n\"Sir,\" she said, \"I marvel what thou art, and of what kin thou art\ncome: boldly thou speakest, and boldly thou hast done, that have I\nseen: therefore I pray thee save thyself and thou mayest, for thy horse\nand thou have had great travail, and I dread we dwell over long from\nthe siege, for it is but hence seven mile, and all perilous passages we\nare past, save all only this passage, and here I dread me sore lest ye\nshall catch some hurt, therefore I would ye were hence, that ye were\nnot bruised nor hurt with this strong knight. But I let you wit this\nSir Persant of Inde is nothing of might nor strength unto the knight\nthat laid the siege about my lady.\"\n\"As for that,\" said Sir Beaumains, \"be it as it may; for since I am\ncome so nigh this knight I will prove his might or [_ere_] I depart\nfrom him, and else I shall be shamed and [_if_] I now withdraw me\nfrom him. And therefore, damsel, have ye no doubt by the grace of God\nI shall so deal with this knight, that within two hours after noon I\nshall deliver him, and then shall we come to the siege by daylight.\"\n\"Oh, mercy, marvel have I,\" said the damsel, \"what manner a man ye be,\nfor it may never be otherwise but that ye be come of a noble blood, for\nso foul and shamefully did never woman rule a knight as I have done\nyou, and ever courteously ye have suffered me, and that came never but\nof a gentle blood.\"\n\"Damsel,\" said Beaumains, \"a knight may little do that may not\nsuffer a damsel; for whatsoever ye said unto me I took none heed to\nyour words, for the more ye said the more ye angered me, and my wrath\nI wreaked upon them that I had ado withal. And therefore all the\nmissaying that ye missayed me furthered me in my battle, and caused\nme to think to show and prove myself at the end what I was; for\nperadventure though I had meat in King Arthur's kitchen, yet I might\nhave had meat enough in other places; but all that I did for to prove\nmy friends; and whether I be a gentleman born or no, fair damsel, I\nhave done you gentleman's service, and peradventure better service yet\nwill I do you or [_before_] I depart from you.\"\n\"Alas,\" said she, \"fair Beaumains, forgive me all that I have missaid\nand misdone against you.\"\n\"With all my heart,\" said Sir Beaumains, \"I forgive it you, for ye did\nnothing but as ye ought to do, for all your evil words pleased me; and,\ndamsel,\" said Sir Beaumains, \"sith [_since_] it liketh you to speak\nthus fair to me, wit ye well it gladdeth greatly mine heart; and now\nmeseemeth there is no knight living but I am able enough for him.\"\nWith this Sir Persant of Inde had espied them, as they hoved\n[_hovered_] in the field, and knightly he sent to them to know whether\nhe came in war or in peace.\n\"Say unto thy lord,\" said Sir Beaumains, \"I take no force,[14] but\nwhether as him list[15] himself.\"\n[Footnote 14: \"I take no force,\" _I care not_.]\n[Footnote 15: \"Him list,\" _he wishes, he pleases_.]\nSo the messenger went again unto Sir Persant, and told him all his\nanswer.\n\"Well,\" said he, \"then will I have ado with him to the uttermost;\" and\nso he purveyed him [_prepared himself_], and rode against him. And when\nSir Beaumains saw him, he made him ready, and there they met with all\nthe might that their horses might run, and brake their spears either\nin three pieces, and their horses rashed so together that both their\nhorses fell dead to the earth; and lightly they avoided their horses,\nand put their shields before them, and drew their swords, and gave each\nother many great strokes, that sometime they so hurled together that\nthey fell both grovelling on the ground. Thus they fought two hours and\nmore, that their shields and their hauberks were all forhewen [_hewn to\npieces_] and in many places they were sore wounded. So at the last Sir\nBeaumains smote him through the cost [_rib part_] of the body, and then\nhe retrayed him [_drew back_] here and there, and knightly maintained\nhis battle long time. And at the last Sir Beaumains smote Sir Persant\non the helm that he fell grovelling to the earth, and then he leaped\noverthwart [_across_] upon him, and unlaced his helm for to have slain\nhim. Then Sir Persant yielded him, and asked him mercy. With that came\nthe damsel and prayed him to save his life.\n\"I will well,\" said Sir Beaumains, \"for it were pity that this noble\nknight should die.\"\n\"Gramercy,\" said Sir Persant, \"gentle knight and damsel, for certainly\nnow I know well it was you that slew the black knight my brother at the\nblackthorn; he was a full noble knight, his name was Sir Periard. Also\nI am sure that ye are he that won mine other brother the green knight:\nhis name was Sir Pertolope. Also ye won the red knight, my brother, Sir\nPerimones. And now, sir, sith ye have won these knights, this shall I\ndo for to please you: ye shall have homage and fealty of me, and an\nhundred knights to be always at your command, to go and ride where ye\nwill command us.\"\nAnd so they went unto Sir Persant's pavilion, and there he drank wine\nand eat spices. And afterward Sir Persant made him to rest upon a bed\ntill it was supper time, and after supper to bed again. And so we leave\nhim there till on the morrow.\nNow leave we the knight and the dwarf, and speak we of Beaumains, that\nall night lay in the hermitage, and upon the morn he and the damsel\nLinet heard their mass, and brake their fast. And then they took their\nhorses and rode throughout a fair forest, and then they came to a\nplain, and saw where were many pavilions and tents, and a fair castle,\nand there was much smoke and great noise. And when they came near the\nsiege Sir Beaumains espied upon great trees, as he rode, how there hung\nfull goodly armed knights by the neck, and their shields about their\nnecks with their swords, and gilt spurs upon their heels, and so there\nhung shamefully nigh forty knights with rich arms. Then Sir Beaumains\nabated his countenance, and said, \"What thing meaneth this?\"\n\"Fair sir,\" saith the damsel, \"abate not your cheer for all this sight,\nfor ye must encourage yourself, or else ye be all shent [_ruined_], for\nall these knights came hither unto this siege to rescue my sister dame\nLyoness, and when the red knight of the red lawns had overcome them,\nhe put them to this shameful death, without mercy and pity, and in the\nsame wise he will serve you, but if ye quit [_acquit_] you the better.\"\n\"Now Jesu defend me,\" said Sir Beaumains, \"from such a villanous death\nand shenship [_disgrace_] of arms! for rather than thus I should fare\nwithal, I would rather be slain manfully in plain battle.\"\n\"So were ye better,\" said the damsel, \"trust not in him, for in him\nis no courtesy, but all goeth to the death or shameful murder, and\nthat is great pity, for he is a full likely man and well made of body,\nand a full noble knight of prowess, and a lord of great lands and\npossessions.\"\n\"Truly,\" said Sir Beaumains, \"he may well be a good knight, but he\nuseth shameful customs, and it is great marvel that he endureth so\nlong, that none of the noble knights of my lord King Arthur's court\nhave not dealt with him.\"\nAnd then they rode unto the ditches, and saw them double ditched with\nfull strong walls, and there were lodged many great estates and lords\nnigh the walls, and there was great noise of minstrels, and the sea\nbeat upon the one side of the walls, where as were many ships and\nmariners' noise with hale and how.[16] And also there was fast by a\nsycamore tree, and thereon hung an horn, the greatest that ever they\nsaw, of an elephant's bone.\n[Footnote 16: \"Hale and how,\" _haul and ho_: the sailors' cries in\nhoisting away, &c.]\n\"And this knight of the red lawns hath hanged it up there, that if\nthere come any errant knight, he must blow that horn, and then will\nhe make him ready, and come to him to do battle. But sir, I pray you,\"\nsaid the damsel Linet, \"blow ye not the horn till it be high noon, for\nnow it is about prime, and now increaseth his might, that, as men say,\nhe hath seven men's strength.\"\n\"Ah, fie for shame, fair damsel, say ye never so more to me, for, and\nhe were as good a knight as ever was, I shall never fail him in his\nmost might, for either I will win worship worshipfully, or die knightly\nin the field.\"\nAnd therewith he spurred his horse straight to the sycamore tree\nand blew the horn so eagerly that all the siege and the castle rang\nthereof. And then there leaped our knights out of their tents and\npavilions, and they within the castle looked over the walls and out at\nwindows. Then the red knight of the red lawns armed him hastily, and\ntwo barons set on his spurs upon his heels, and all was blood-red, his\narmor, spear, and shield. And an earl buckled his helm upon his head,\nand then they brought him a red spear and a red steed, and so he rode\ninto a little vale under the castle, that all that were in the castle\nand at the siege might behold the battle.\n\"Sir,\" said the damsel Linet unto Sir Beaumains, \"look ye be glad and\nlight, for yonder is your deadly enemy, and at yonder window is my lady\nmy sister, dame Lyoness.\"\n\"Where?\" said Beaumains.\n\"Yonder,\" said the damsel, and pointed with her finger.\n\"That is truth,\" said Beaumains. \"She seemeth afar the fairest lady\nthat ever I looked upon, and truly,\" he said, \"I ask no better quarrel\nthan now for to do battle, for truly she shall be my lady, and for her\nI will fight.\"\nAnd ever he looked up to the window with glad countenance. And the lady\nLyoness made courtesy to him down to the earth, with holding up both\nher hands. With that the red knight of the red lawns called to Sir\nBeaumains, \"Leave, sir knight, thy looking, and behold me, I counsel\nthee, for I warn thee well she is my lady, and for her I have done many\nstrong battles.\"\n\"If thou have so done,\" said Beaumains, \"meseemeth it was but waste\nlabor, for she loveth none of thy fellowship, and thou to love that\nloveth not thee, is a great folly. For if I understood that she were\nnot glad of my coming, I would be advised or I did battle for her,\nbut I understand by the besieging of this castle she may forbear thy\ncompany. And therefore wit thou well, thou red knight of the red lawns,\nI love her and will rescue her, or else die in the quarrel.\"\n\"Sayest thou that?\" said the red knight; \"me seemeth thou ought of\nreason to beware by yonder knights that thou sawest hang upon yonder\ngreat elms.\"\n\"Fie, fie, for shame,\" said Sir Beaumains, \"that ever thou shouldest\nsay or do so evil and such shamefulness, for in that thou shamest\nthyself and the order of knighthood, and thou mayst be sure there will\nno lady love thee that knoweth thy detestable customs. And now thou\nweenest [_thinkest_] that the sight of these hanged knights should fear\n[_scare_] me and make me aghast, nay truly not so, that shameful sight\ncauseth me to have courage and hardiness against thee, more than I\nwould have had against thee and if thou be a well ruled knight.\"\n\"Make thee ready,\" said the red knight of the red lawns, \"and talk no\nlonger with me.\"\nThen Sir Beaumains bade the damsel go from him, and then they put their\nspears in their rests, and came together with all the might they had,\nand either smote other in the midst of their shields, that the paytrels\n[_breast-plates_], surcingles, and cruppers burst, and fell both to\nthe ground with the reins of their bridles in their hands, and so they\nlay a great while sore astonied, and all they that were in the castle\nand at the siege wend [_thought_] their necks had been broken, and\nthen many a stranger and other said that the strange knight was a big\nman and a noble jouster, \"for or [_ere_] now we saw never no knight\nmatch the red knight of the red lawns;\" thus they said both within the\ncastle and without. Then they lightly avoided their horses and put\ntheir shields afore them, and drew their swords and ran together like\ntwo fierce lions, and either gave other such buffets upon their helms\nthat they reeled both backward two strides; and then they recovered\nboth, and hewed great pieces from their harness and their shields that\na great part fell in the fields.\nAnd then thus they fought till it was past noon and never would stint\ntill at last they lacked wind both, and then they stood wagging and\nscattering, panting, blowing and bleeding, that all that beheld them\nfor the most part wept for pity. So when they had rested them a while\nthey went to battle again, tracing, racing, foining [_feinting_], as\ntwo boars. And at some time they took their run as it had been two\nrams, and hurtled together that sometimes they fell grovelling to the\nearth; and at some time they were so amazed that either took other's\nsword instead of his own.\nThus they endured till even-song time [_vespers_], that there was\nnone that beheld them might know whether was like to win the battle;\nand their armor was so far hewn that men might see their naked sides,\nand in other places they were naked, but ever the naked places they\ndid defend. And the red knight was a wily knight of war, and his wily\nfighting taught Sir Beaumains to be wise; but he abought [_paid for_]\nit full sore ere he did espy his fighting. And thus by assent of them\nboth, they granted either other to rest; and so they set them down upon\ntwo mole-hills there beside the fighting place, and either of them\nunlaced his helm, and took the cold wind, for either of their pages was\nfast by them, to come when they called to unlace their harness and to\nset it on again at their command. And then when Sir Beaumains' helm was\noff, he looked up unto the window, and there he saw the fair lady dame\nLyoness. And she made to him such countenance that his heart was light\nand joyful. And therewith he started up suddenly, and bade the red\nknight make him ready to do the battle to the uttermost.\n\"I will well,\" said the red knight.\nAnd then they laced up their helms, and their pages avoided [_got out\nof the way_], and they stepped together and fought freshly. But the red\nknight of the red lawns awaited him, and at an overthwart [_crosswise_]\nsmote him within the hand, that his sword fell out of his hand; and\nyet he gave him another buffet on the helm that he fell grovelling to\nthe earth, and the red knight fell over him for to hold him down.\nThen cried the maiden Linet on high, \"O Sir Beaumains, where is thy\ncourage become! Alas, my lady my sister beholdeth thee, and she sobbeth\nand weepeth, that maketh mine heart heavy.\"\nWhen Sir Beaumains heard her say so, he started up with a great might\nand gat him upon his feet, and lightly he leaped to his sword and\ngriped it in his hand, and doubled his pace unto the red knight, and\nthere they fought a new battle together. But Sir Beaumains then doubled\nhis strokes, and smote so thick that he smote the sword out of his\nhand, and then he smote him upon the helm that he fell to the earth,\nand Sir Beaumains fell upon him, and unlaced his helm to have slain\nhim; and then he yielded him and asked mercy, and said with a loud\nvoice, \"O noble knight, I yield me to thy mercy.\"\nThen Sir Beaumains bethought him upon the knights that he had made to\nbe hanged shamefully, and then he said, \"I may not with my worship\nsave thy life, for the shameful deaths thou hast caused many full good\nknights to die.\"\n\"Sir,\" said the red knight of the red lawns, \"hold your hand, and ye\nshall know the causes why I put them to so shameful a death.\"\n\"Say on,\" said Sir Beaumains.\n\"Sir, I loved once a lady, a fair damsel, and she had her brother\nslain, and she said it was Sir Launcelot du Lake, or else Sir Gawaine,\nand she prayed me as that I loved her heartily that I would make her a\npromise by the faith of my knighthood for to labor daily in arms until\nI met with one of them, and all that I might overcome I should put\nthem unto a villanous death; and this is the cause that I have put all\nthese knights to death, and so I ensured her to do all the villany unto\nKing Arthur's knights, and that I should take vengeance upon all these\nknights. And, sir, now I will thee tell that every day my strength\nincreaseth till noon, and all this time have I seven men's strength.\"\nThen came there many earls, and barons, and noble knights, and prayed\nthat knight to save his life, and take him to your prisoner: and all\nthey fell upon their knees and prayed him of mercy, and that he would\nsave his life, and, \"Sir,\" they all said, \"it were fairer of him to\ntake homage and fealty, and let him hold his lands of you, than for to\nslay him: by his death ye shall have none advantage, and his misdeeds\nthat be done may not be undone; and therefore he shall make amends to\nall parties, and we all will become your men, and do you homage and\nfealty.\"\n\"Fair lords,\" said Beaumains, \"wit you well I am full loth to slay\nthis knight, nevertheless he hath done passing ill and shamefully. But\ninsomuch all that he did was at a lady's request, I blame him the less,\nand so for your sake I will release him, that he shall have his life\nupon this covenant, that he go within the castle and yield him there to\nthe lady, and if she will forgive and quit [_acquit_] him, I will well;\nwith this that he make her amends of all the trespass he hath done\nagainst her and her lands. And also, when that is done, that ye go unto\nthe court of King Arthur, and there that ye ask Sir Launcelot mercy,\nand Sir Gawaine, for the evil will ye have had against them.\"\n\"Sir,\" said the red knight of the red lawns, \"all this will I do as ye\ncommand, and certain assurance and sureties ye shall have.\"\nAnd so then when the assurance was made, he made his homage and fealty,\nand all those earls and barons with him. And then the maiden Linet came\nto Sir Beaumains and unarmed him, and searched his wounds, and stinted\nhis blood, and in likewise she did to the red knight of the red lawns.\nAnd so they sojourned ten days in their tents. And the red knight made\nhis lords and servants to do all the pleasure that they might unto Sir\nBeaumains.\nAnd within a while after, the red knight of the red lawns went unto the\ncastle and put him in the lady Lyoness' grace, and so she received him\nupon sufficient sureties, and all her hurts were well restored of all\nthat she could complain. And then he departed and went unto the court\nof King Arthur, and there openly the red knight of the red lawns put\nhim in the mercy of Sir Launcelot and Sir Gawaine, and there he told\nopenly how he was overcome, and by whom, and also he told of all the\nbattles, from the beginning to the ending.\n\"Jesus, mercy,\" said King Arthur and Sir Gawaine, \"we marvel much of\nwhat blood he is come, for he is a full noble knight.\"\n\"Have ye no marvel,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"for ye shall right well\nwit that he is come of a full noble blood, and, as for his might and\nhardiness, there be but few now living that is so mighty as he is and\nso noble of prowess.\"\n\"It seemeth by you,\" said King Arthur, \"that ye know his name, and from\nwhence he is come, and of what blood he is.\"\n\"I suppose I do so,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"or else I would not have\ngiven him the order of knighthood; but he gave me at that time such\ncharge that I should never discover him until he required me, or else\nit be known openly by some other.\"\nNow return we unto Sir Beaumains, which desired of the damsel Linet\nthat he might see her sister his lady.\n\"Sir,\" said she, \"I would fain ye saw her.\"\nThen Sir Beaumains armed him at all points, and took his horse and his\nspear, and rode straight to the castle. And when he came to the gate,\nhe found there many men armed, that pulled up the drawbridge and drew\nthe port close. Then marvelled he why they would not suffer him to\nenter in. And then he looked up to the window, and there he saw the\nfair lady dame Lyoness, that said on high: \"Go thy way, Sir Beaumains,\nfor as yet thou shalt not wholly have my love, until the time thou be\ncalled one of the number of the worthy knights; and therefore go and\nlabor in arms worshipfully these twelve months, and then ye shall hear\nnew tidings; and perd\u00e9 [_per dieu, truly_] a twelvemonth will be soon\ngone, and trust you me, fair knight, I shall be true unto you, and\nshall never betray you, but unto my death I shall love you and none\nother.\"\nAnd therewithal she turned her from the window. And Sir Beaumains rode\naway from the castle in making great moan and sorrow; and so he rode\nhere and there, and wist not whither he rode, till it was dark night;\nand then it happened him to come to a poor man's house, and there he\nwas harbored all that night. But Sir Beaumains could have no rest, but\nwallowed and writhed for the love of the lady of the castle. And so on\nthe morrow he took his horse and his armor, and rode till it was noon;\nand then he came unto a broad water, and thereby was a great lodge,\nand there he alighted to sleep, and laid his head upon his shield, and\nbetook his horse to the dwarf, and commanded him to watch all night.\nNow turn we to the lady of the castle, that thought much upon Sir\nBeaumains; and then she called unto her Sir Gringamor her brother, and\nprayed him in all manner, as he loved her heartily, that he would ride\nafter Sir Beaumains, \"and ever have him in a wait [_look after him_]\ntill that ye may find him sleeping, for I am sure in his heaviness he\nwill alight down in some place and lie down to sleep, and therefore\nhave your watch upon him, and, in the priviest wise [_softest way_]\nthat ye can, take his dwarf from him, and go your way with him as fast\nas ever ye may or Sir Beaumains awake; for my sister Linet hath showed\nme that the dwarf can tell of what kindred he is come, and what his\nright name is; and in the meanwhile I and my sister will ride to your\ncastle to await when ye shall bring with you this dwarf, and then when\nye have brought him to your castle, I will have him in examination\nmyself; unto the time I know what his right name is, and of what\nkindred he is come, shall I never be merry at my heart.\"\n\"Sister,\" said Sir Gringamor, \"all this shall be done after your\nintent.\" And so he rode all the other day and the night till that he\nfound Sir Beaumains lying by a water, and his head upon his shield,\nfor to sleep. And then when he saw Sir Beaumains fast on sleep, he\ncame stilly stalking behind the dwarf, and plucked him fast under his\narm, and so he rode away with him as fast as ever he might unto his\nown castle. But ever as he rode with the dwarf towards his castle, he\ncried unto his lord and prayed him of help. And therewith awoke Sir\nBeaumains, and up he leaped lightly, and saw where Sir Gringamor rode\nhis way with the dwarf, and so Sir Gringamor rode out of his sight.\nThen Sir Beaumains put on his helm anon, and buckled his shield, and\ntook his horse and rode after him all that ever he might ride, through\nmarshes and fields and great dales, that many times his horse and he\nplunged over the head in deep mires, for he knew not the way, but he\ntook the next [_nearest_] way in that woodness [_madness_] that many\ntimes he was like to perish. [And so he came following his dwarf to Sir\nGringamor's castle. But aforetime the lady Lyoness had come and had\nthe dwarf in examination; and the dwarf had told the lady how that Sir\nBeaumains was the son of a king, and how his mother was sister to King\nArthur, and how his right name was Sir Gareth of Orkney.]\n[Illustration: _The lady Lyoness ... had the dwarf in examination_]\nAnd as they sat thus talking, there came Sir Beaumains at the gate\nwith an angry countenance, and his sword drawn in his hand, and cried\naloud that all the castle might hear it, saying, \"Thou traitor, Sir\nGringamor, deliver me my dwarf again, or by the faith that I owe to the\norder of knighthood, I shall do thee all the harm that I can.\"\nThen Sir Gringamor looked out at a window, and said, \"Sir Gareth of\nOrkney, leave thy boasting words, for thou gettest not thy dwarf again.\"\n\"Thou coward knight,\" said Sir Gareth, \"bring him with thee, and come\nand do battle with me, and win him, and take him.\"\n\"So will I do,\" said Sir Gringamor, \"and me list [_if it please me_],\nbut for all thy great words thou gettest him not.\"\n\"Ah, fair brother,\" said dame Lyoness, \"I would he had his dwarf again,\nfor I would not he were wroth, for now he hath told me all my desire\nI will no longer keep the dwarf. And also, brother, he hath done much\nfor me, and delivered me from the red knight of the red lawns, and\ntherefore, brother, I owe him my service afore all knights living; and\nwit ye well I love him above all other knights, and full fain would I\nspeak with him, but in no wise I would he wist what I were, but that I\nwere another strange lady.\"\n\"Well,\" said Sir Gringamor, \"sith [_since_] that I know your will, I\nwill now obey unto him.\"\nAnd therewithal he went down unto Sir Gareth, and said, \"Sir, I cry you\nmercy, and all that I have misdone against your person I will amend it\nat your own will, and therefore I pray you that you will alight, and\ntake such cheer as I can make you here in this castle.\"\n\"Shall I then have my dwarf again?\" said Sir Gareth.\n\"Yea, sir, and all the pleasure that I can make you, for as soon as\nyour dwarf told me what ye were and of what blood that ye are come,\nand what noble deeds ye have done in these marches [_borders_], then I\nrepent me of my deeds.\"\nAnd then Sir Gareth alighted down from his horse, and therewith came\nhis dwarf and took his horse.\n\"O my fellow,\" said Sir Gareth, \"I have had many evil adventures for\nthy sake.\"\nAnd so Sir Gringamor took him by the hand, and led him into the hall,\nand there was Sir Gringamor's wife.\nAnd then there came forth into the hall dame Lyoness arrayed like a\nprincess, and there she made him passing good cheer, and he her again.\nAnd they had goodly language and lovely countenance together. And Sir\nGareth many times thought in himself, \"Would to God that the lady of\nthe Castle Perilous were so fair as she is!\" There were all manner of\ngames and plays, both of dancing and leaping; and ever the more Sir\nGareth beheld the lady, the more he loved her, and so he burned in love\nthat he was past himself in his understanding. And forth towards night\nthey went to supper, and Sir Gareth might not eat, for his love was\nso hot that he wist not where he was. All these looks Sir Gringamor\nespied, and after supper he called his sister dame Lyoness unto a\nchamber, and said: \"Fair sister, I have well espied your countenance\nbetween you and this knight, and I will, sister, that ye wit that he is\na full noble knight, and if ye can make him to abide here, I will do to\nhim all the pleasure that I can, for and ye were better than ye be, ye\nwere well bestowed upon him.\"\n\"Fair brother,\" said dame Lyoness, \"I understand well that the knight\nis good, and come he is of a noble house; notwithstanding I will assay\nhim better, for he hath had great labor for my love, and hath passed\nmany a dangerous passage.\"\nRight so Sir Gringamor went unto Sir Gareth, and said: \"Sir, make ye\ngood cheer; for wist [know] ye well that she loveth you as well as ye\ndo her, and better if better may be.\"\n\"And I wist that,\" said Sir Gareth, \"there lived not a gladder man than\nI would be.\"\n\"Upon my worship,\" said Sir Gringamor, \"trust unto my promise; and as\nlong as it liketh you ye shall sojourn with me, and this lady shall be\nwith us daily and nightly to make you all the cheer that she can.\"\n\"I will well,\" said Sir Gareth, \"for I have promised to be nigh this\ncountry this twelvemonth. And well I am sure King Arthur and other\nnoble knights will find me where that I am within this twelvemonth. For\nI shall be sought and found, if that I be on live.\"\nAnd then the noble knight Sir Gareth went unto the dame Lyoness, which\nhe then much loved, and kissed her many times, and either made great\njoy of other. And there she promised him her love, certainly to love\nhim and none other the days of her life. Then this lady, dame Lyoness,\nby the assent of her brother, told Sir Gareth all the truth what she\nwas, and how she was the same lady that he did battle for, and how she\nwas lady of the Castle Perilous. And there she told him how she caused\nher brother to take away his dwarf, \"For this cause, to know the\ncertainty what was your name, and of what kin ye were come.\"\nAnd then she let fetch before him Linet the damsel, which had ridden\nwith him many dreary ways. Then was Sir Gareth more gladder than he was\ntofore. And then they troth plight[17] each other to love, and never to\nfail while their life lasted.\n[Footnote 17: \"Troth,\" _truth_, and \"plight,\" _wove_: \"troth plight,\"\n_wove their truth together_.]\nThere was a knight that hight Meliodas, and he was lord and king of the\ncountry of Lyonesse, and this King Meliodas was as likely a man as any\nwas at that time living. And by fortune he wedded King Mark's sister of\nCornwall, whose name was Elizabeth, and she was a right fair lady and a\ngood.\n[And it befell on a day that a certain enchantress wrought as he rode\non hunting, for he was a great hunter, and made him chase an hart by\nhimself till that he came to an old castle, and there she took him\nprisoner. Now when Queen Elizabeth missed her husband King Meliodas,\nshe was nigh out of her wit; and she took a gentlewoman with her and\nran far into the forest and took such cold that she might not recover.\nAnd when she saw] that the deep draughts of death took her, that needs\nshe must die and depart out of this world [and] there was none other\nboot [_aid, or hope_], she made great moan and sorrow, and said unto\nher gentlewoman: \"When ye see my lord King Meliodas, recommend me unto\nhim, and tell him what pains I endure for his love, and how I must die\nhere for his sake, and for default of good help, and let him wit that\nI am full sorry to depart out of this world from him, therefore pray\nhim to be good friend unto my soul. And I charge thee, gentlewoman,\nthat thou beseech my lord King Meliodas, that when my son shall\nbe christened let him be named Tristram, that is as much to say as\nsorrowful birth.\"\nAnd therewithal this Queen Elizabeth gave up her ghost, and died in the\nsame place. Then the gentlewoman laid her under the shadow of a great\ntree.\n[And it so happened that after seven years King Meliodas took him a\nsecond wife, and wedded King Howell's daughter of Brittany. And the new\nqueen was jealous of young Tristram in the behalf of her own children,\nand put poison for Tristram to drink. But by strange hap her own son\ndrank the poison and died. Then again she put poison in some drink for\nTristram; and] by fortune the King Meliodas her husband found the piece\n[_cup_] with the wine whereas the poison was in, and he, that was most\nthirsty, took the piece for to drink thereof, and as he would have\ndrunken thereof the queen espied him, and then she ran unto him and\npulled the piece from him suddenly. The king marvelled why she did so,\nand remembered him how her son was suddenly slain with poison. And then\nhe took her by the hand, and thus said to her: \"Thou false traitress,\nthou shalt tell me what manner of drink this is, or else I shall slay\nthee.\" And therewith he pulled out his sword, and swore a great oath\nthat he would slay her but if she told him truth.\n\"Ah! mercy, my lord,\" said she, \"and I shall tell you all.\"\nAnd then she told him why that she would have slain Tristram, because\nher children should rejoice the land.\n\"Well,\" said King Meliodas, \"therefore shall ye have the law.\"\nAnd so she was damned [_condemned_] by the assent of the barons to be\nburnt; and then there was made a great fire, and right as she was at\nthe fire for to take her execution, young Tristram kneeled down before\nKing Meliodas, his father, and besought him to give him a boon.\n\"I will well,\" said the king.\nThen said young Tristram, \"Give me the life of your queen, my\nstepmother.\"\n\"That is unrightfully asked,\" said his father, King Meliodas, \"for she\nwould have slain thee with that poison and she might have had her will,\nand for thy sake most is my cause that she should die.\"\n\"Sir,\" said Tristram, \"as for that I beseech you of your mercy that ye\nwill forgive it her, and as for my part, God forgive it her, and I do,\nand so much it liketh your highness to grant me my boon, for God's love\nI pray you hold your promise.\"\n\"Sith it is so,\" said the king, \"I will that ye have her life and give\nher to you, and go ye to the fire and take her, and do with her what ye\nwill.\"\nSo young Tristram went to the fire, and, by the command of the king,\ndelivered her from the death.\nAnd by the good means of young Tristram he made the king and her accord.\nAnd then [King Meliodas] let ordain a gentleman that was well learned\nand taught; his name was Gouvernail; and he sent young Tristram with\nGouvernail into France, to learn the language, and nurture, and deeds\nof arms. And there was Tristram more than seven years. And then when\nhe well could speak the language, and had learned all that he might\nlearn in that country, then he came home to his father King Meliodas\nagain. And so Tristram learned to be an harper passing all other,\nthat there was none such called in no country, and so in harping and\non instruments of music he applied him in his youth for to learn. And\nafter as he grew in might and strength he laboured ever in hunting and\nin hawking, so that never gentleman more, that ever we heard tell of.\nThen it befell that King Anguish of Ireland sent to King Mark of\nCornwall for his truage [_tribute_], which Cornwall had paid many\nwinters afore time, and all that time King Mark was behind of the\ntruage for seven years. And King Mark and his barons gave unto the\nmessenger of Ireland this answer, and said that they would none pay,\nand bade the messenger go unto his King Anguish and tell him, \"that we\nwill pay him no truage; but tell your lord, and he will always have\ntruage of us of Cornwall, bid him send a trusty knight of his land\nthat will fight for his right, and we shall find another to defend our\nright.\" With this answer the messenger departed into Ireland. And when\nKing Anguish understood the answer of the messenger, he was wondrous\nwroth; and then he called unto him Sir Marhaus the good knight that was\nnobly proved, and a knight of the Round Table. And this Sir Marhaus was\nbrother unto the Queen of Ireland. Then the king [prayed Sir Marhaus\nthat he would go and fight for his truage of Cornwall].\n\"Sir,\" said Sir Marhaus, \"wit [_know_] ye well that I shall not be loth\nto do battle in the right of you and your land with the best knight of\nthe Round Table, for I know what their deeds be, and for to increase my\nworship [_worth-ship_] I will right gladly go to this journey for our\nright.\"\nSo in all haste there was made purveyance for Sir Marhaus, and so he\ndeparted out of Ireland, and arrived up in Cornwall, even fast by the\ncastle of Tintagil. And when King Mark understood that he was there\narrived to fight for Ireland, then made King Mark great sorrow. For\nthey knew no knight that durst have ado with him. For at that time Sir\nMarhaus was called one of the famousest and renowned knights of the\nworld.\nAnd thus Sir Marhaus abode in the sea, and every day he sent unto King\nMark for to pay the truage that was behind of seven year, or else to\nfind a knight to fight with him for the truage. Then they of Cornwall\nlet make cries in every place, that what knight would fight for to save\nthe truage of Cornwall he should be rewarded so that he should fare the\nbetter the term of his life. Then some of the barons said to King Mark,\nand counselled him to send to the court of King Arthur for to seek Sir\nLauncelot du Lake. Then there were some other barons that counselled\nthe king not to do so, and said that it was labour in vain, because Sir\nMarhaus was a knight of the Round Table, therefore any of them will be\nloth to have ado with other. So the king and all his barons assented\nthat it was no boot [_help_] to seek any knight of the Round Table.\nWhen young Tristram heard of this he was wroth and sore ashamed that\nthere durst no knight in Cornwall have ado with Sir Marhaus of Ireland.\nTherewithal Sir Tristram went unto his father King Meliodas, and asked\nhim counsel what was best to do for to recover the country of Cornwall\nfor truage. \"For as me seemeth,\" said Sir Tristram, \"it were shame that\nSir Marhaus, the queen's brother of Ireland, should go away, unless\nthat he were not fought withal.\"\n\"As for that,\" said King Meliodas, \"wit ye well, my son Tristram, that\nSir Marhaus is called one of the best knights of the world, and knight\nof the Round Table, and therefore I know no knight in this country that\nis able to match with him.\"\n\"Alas!\" said Sir Tristram, \"that I am not made knight, and if Sir\nMarhaus should thus depart into Ireland, God let me never have worship;\nand I were made knight I should match him; and sir,\" said Sir Tristram,\n\"I pray you to give me leave to ride unto mine uncle King Mark, and so\nye be not displeased, of King Mark will I be made knight.\"\n\"I will well,\" said King Meliodas, \"that ye be ruled as your courage\nwill rule you.\"\nAnd then Sir Tristram thanked his father much, and so made him ready\nto ride into Cornwall. And in the mean while there came a messenger\nwith letters of love from the daughter of King Faramon of France, unto\nSir Tristram, that were full piteous letters, and in them were written\nmany complaints of love. But Sir Tristram had no joy of her letters,\nnor regard unto her. Also she sent him a little brachet [_hunting\nhound_] that was passing fair. But when the king's daughter understood\nthat Tristram would not love her, she died for sorrow. So this young\nSir Tristram rode unto his uncle King Mark of Cornwall. And when he\ncame there he heard say that there would no knight fight with Sir\nMarhaus. Then went Sir Tristram unto his uncle and said,--\n\"Sir, if ye will give me the order of knighthood I will do battle with\nSir Marhaus.\"\n\"What are ye?\" said the king, \"and from whence be ye come?\"\n\"Sir,\" said Tristram, \"I come from King Meliodas that wedded your\nsister, and a gentleman wit ye well I am.\"\nKing Mark beheld Sir Tristram, and saw that he was but a young man of\nage, but he was passingly well made and big.\n\"Fair sir,\" said the king, \"what is your name, and where were ye born?\"\n\"Sir,\" said he again, \"my name is Tristram, and in the country of\nLyonesse was I born.\"\n\"Ye say well,\" said the king, \"and if ye will do this battle I shall\nmake you knight.\"\n\"Therefore I come to you,\" said Sir Tristram, \"and for none other\ncause.\"\nBut then King Mark made him knight. And therewithal anon as he had made\nhim knight, he sent a messenger unto Sir Marhaus with letters that said\nthat he had found a young knight ready for to take the battle to the\nuttermost.\n\"It may well be,\" said Sir Marhaus; \"but tell unto King Mark that I\nwill not fight with no knight but if he be of blood royal, that is to\nsay either king's son or queen's son, born of a prince or princess.\"\nWhen King Mark understood that, he sent for Sir Tristram de Lyonesse,\nand told him what was the answer of Sir Marhaus. Then said Sir\nTristram,--\n\"Since he sayeth so, let him wit that I am come of father's side and\nmother's side of as noble blood as he is. For, sir, now shall ye know\nthat I am King Meliodas' son, born of your own sister dame Elizabeth,\nthat died in the forest in the birth of me.\"\n\"Yea!\" said King Mark, \"ye are welcome fair nephew to me.\"\nThen in all the haste the king let horse Sir Tristram and arm him in\nthe best manner that might be had or gotten for gold or silver. And\nthen King Mark sent unto Sir Marhaus, and did him to wit [_let him\nknow_] that a better born man than he was himself should fight with\nhim, and his name is Sir Tristram de Lyonesse, [son of] King Meliodas,\nand born of King Mark's sister. Then was Sir Marhaus glad and blithe\nthat he should fight with such a gentleman. And so by the assent of\nKing Mark and Sir Marhaus they let ordain that they should fight within\nan island nigh Sir Marhaus' ships; and so was young Sir Tristram put\ninto a little vessel, both his horse and he, and all that to him\nbelonged both for his body and for his horse, so that Sir Tristram\nlacked no manner thing. And when King Mark and his barons of Cornwall\nbeheld how young Sir Tristram departed with such a carriage [_that is,\ncarrying himself so bravely_] to fight for the right of Cornwall, wit\nye well there was neither man nor woman of worship but they wept for to\nsee so young a knight jeopard himself for their right.\nFor to make short this tale, that when Sir Tristram was arrived within\nthe island, then he looked to the further side, and there he saw at an\nanchor six ships nigh to the land, and under the shadow of the ships,\nupon the land, there hoved [_hovered_] the noble knight Sir Marhaus of\nIreland. And then Sir Tristram commanded his servant Gouvernail for to\nbring his horse to the land, and dress his harness at all manner of\nrights. And when he had so done, he mounted upon his horse. And when\nhe was in his saddle well apparelled, and his shield dressed upon his\nshoulder, Sir Tristram asked Gouvernail, \"Where is this knight that I\nshall have to do withal?\"\n\"Sir,\" said his servant Gouvernail, \"see ye him not? I wend ye had seen\nhim, yonder he hoveth under the shadow of his ships upon horseback, and\nhis spear in his hand, and his shield upon his shoulder.\"\n\"It is truth,\" said Sir Tristram, \"now I see him well enough.\"\nAnd then he commanded his servant Gouvernail to go again unto his\nvessel, and commend him \"unto mine uncle King Mark, and pray him that\nif I be slain in this battle, for to bury my body as him seemeth\nbest, and, as for me, let him wit that I will never yield me for no\ncowardice, and if I be slain and flee not, then have they lost no\ntruage for me. And if so be that I flee or yield me as recreant, bid\nmine uncle never bury me in Christian burials. And upon my life,\" said\nSir Tristram to Gouvernail, \"come thou not nigh this island till thou\nsee me overcome or slain, or else that I win yonder knight.\"\nAnd so either departed from other weeping.\nAnd then Sir Marhaus perceived Sir Tristram, and thus said unto him:\n\"Young knight Sir Tristram, what doest thou here? Me sore repenteth of\nthy courage, for wit thou well I have matched with the best knights of\nthe world, and therefore by my counsel return again to thy ship.\"\n\"Fair knight and well proved knight,\" said Sir Tristram, \"thou shalt\nwell wit that I may not forsake thee in this quarrel, for I am for\nthy sake made knight, and thou shalt well wit that I am a king's son\nborn, and such promise have I made at mine uncle's request and mine own\nseeking, that I shall fight with thee unto the uttermost, to deliver\nCornwall from the old truage. Also wit ye well, Sir Marhaus, that\nfor ye are called one of the best renowned knights of the world, and\nbecause of that noise and fame that ye have, it will do me good to\nhave to do with you, for never yet sith [_since_] that I was born of\nmy mother was I proved with a good knight, and also sith I have taken\nthe high order of knighthood this day, I am right well pleased that I\nmay have to do with so good a knight as ye are. And now wit ye well,\nSir Marhaus of Ireland, that I cast me to win worship on thy body, I\ntrust to God I shall be worshipfully proved upon thy body and for to\ndeliver the country of Cornwall forever from all manner of truage from\nIreland.\"\nAnd when the good knight Sir Marhaus had heard him say what him list,\nthen said he thus again: \"Fair knight, sith it is so that thou castest\nthee to win worship on me, I let thee wit that no worship maist thou\nleese [_lose_] by me, if thou mayst stand me three strokes, for I let\nyou wit that for my noble deeds, proved and seen, King Arthur made me\nknight of the Table Round.\" Then they began to feuter [_place in rest_]\ntheir spears, and they met so fiercely together that they smote either\nother down both horse and all. But Sir Marhaus smote Sir Tristram\na great wound in the side with his spear, and then they avoided\ntheir horses, and pulled out their swords, and threw their shields\nafore them, and then they lashed together as men than were wild and\ncourageous. And when they had stricken so together long, then they left\ntheir strokes, and foined [_thrust, in feinting_]; and when they saw\nthat that might not prevail them, then they hurtled together like rams\nto bear either other down. Thus they fought still more than half a day,\nand either were wounded passing sore, that the blood ran down freshly\nfrom them upon the ground. By then Sir Tristram waxed more fresher than\nSir Marhaus, and better winded and bigger, and with a mighty stroke he\nsmote Sir Marhaus upon the helm such a buffet, that it went through his\nhelm, and through the coif of steel, and through the brain-pan, and the\nsword stuck so fast in the helm and in his brain-pan that Sir Tristram\npulled thrice at his sword or ever he might pull it out from his head,\nand there Marhaus fell down on his knees, [and a piece of] the edge of\nTristram's sword [was] left in his brain-pan. And suddenly Sir Marhaus\nrose grovelling, and threw his sword and his shield from him, and\nso ran to his ships and fled his way, and Sir Tristram had ever his\nshield and his sword. And when Sir Tristram saw Sir Marhaus withdraw\nhim, he said, \"Ah, sir knight of the Round Table, why withdrawest thou\nthee; thou doest thyself and thy kin great shame, for I am but a young\nknight, or now I was never proved, and rather than I should withdraw\nme from thee, I had rather be hewn in an hundred pieces.\" Sir Marhaus\nanswered no word, but went his way sore groaning.\nAnon Sir Marhaus and his fellowship departed into Ireland. And as\nsoon as he came to the king his brother he let search his wounds. And\nwhen his head was searched, a piece of Sir Tristram's sword was found\ntherein, and might never be had out of his head for no surgeons, and so\nhe died of Sir Tristram's sword, and that piece of the sword the queen\nhis sister kept it for ever with her, for she thought to be revenged\nand she might.\nNow turn we again unto Sir Tristram, that was sore wounded, and full\nsore bled, that he might not within a little while when he had taken\ncold scarcely stir him of his limbs. And then he set him down softly\nupon a little hill, and bled fast. Then anon came Gouvernail his man\nwith his vessel, and the king and his barons came with procession, and\nwhen he was come to the land, King Mark took him in both his arms, and\nthe king and Sir Dinas the seneschal led Sir Tristram into the castle\nof Tintagil, and then were his wounds searched in the best manner, and\nlaid in bed. And when King Mark saw all his wounds, he wept right\nheartily, and so did all his lords.\n\"So God me help,\" said King Mark, \"I would not for all my lands that my\nnephew died.\"\nSo Sir Tristram lay there a month and more, and was like to have died\nof the stroke that Sir Marhaus had given him first with his spear. For,\nas the French book saith, that spear's head was envenomed, that Sir\nTristram might not be whole thereof. Then was King Mark and all his\nbarons passing heavy, for they deemed none other but that Sir Tristram\nshould not recover. So the king let send after all manner of leeches\nand surgeons, both men and women, and there was none that would warrant\nhim his life. Then came there a lady, which was a full wise lady, and\nshe said plainly unto King Mark and unto Sir Tristram and unto all the\nbarons, that he should never be whole, but if Sir Tristram went into\nthe same country that the venom came from, and in that country should\nhe be holpen or else never. When King Mark had well heard what the\nlady said, forthwith he let purvey for Sir Tristram a fair vessel, and\nwell victualled it, and therein was put Sir Tristram and Gouvernail\nwith him, and Sir Tristram took his harp with him, and so he was put\nto sea, for to sail into Ireland, and so by good fortune he arrived up\ninto Ireland even fast by a castle where the king and the queen were,\nand at his arriving he sat and harped in his bed a merry lay, such one\nhad they never heard in Ireland afore that time. And when it was told\nthe king and the queen of such a knight that was such a harper, anon\nthe king sent for him, and let search his wound, and then he asked him\nwhat was his name. He answered and said,\n\"I am of the country of Lyonesse, and my name is Tramtrist, [and I\nhave] been wounded in a battle as I fought for a lady's right.\"\n\"Truly,\" said King Anguish, \"ye shall have all the help in this land\nthat ye may have here. But I let you wit in Cornwall I had a great loss\nas ever had king, for there I lost the best knight of the world, his\nname was Marhaus, a full noble knight, and knight of the Table Round;\"\nand there he told Sir Tristram wherefore Sir Marhaus was slain. Sir\nTristram made semblant [_like_] as he had been sorry, and better knew\nhe how it was than the king.\nThen the king for great favour made Tramtrist to be put in his\ndaughter's ward and keeping, because she was a noble surgeon. And\nwhen she had searched his wound, she found in the bottom of his wound\nthat there was poison, and within a little while she healed him, and\ntherefore Tramtrist cast great love to la Belle Isolde, for she was\nat that time the fairest lady of the world, and then Sir Tramtrist\n[taught] her to harp, and she began to have a great fantasy unto Sir\nTramtrist. And at that time Sir Palamides, that was a Saracen, was in\nthat country, and was well cherished both of the king and the queen,\nand he proffered her many great gifts, for he loved her passing well.\nAnd all that espied right well Sir Tramtrist, and full well he knew Sir\nPalamides for a noble knight and a mighty man.\nThus was there great envy between Sir Tramtrist and Sir Palamides.\nThen it befell that King Anguish let cry a great joust and a great\ntournament for a lady which was called the lady of the lawns, and she\nwas nigh cousin unto the king, and what man that should win her should\nwed her three days after, and have all her lands. This cry was made in\nEngland, Wales, and Scotland, and also in France and in Britain. It\nbefell upon a day la Belle Isolde came to Sir Tramtrist and told him of\nthis tournament.\n\"Ah! Tramtrist,\" said la Belle Isolde, \"why will ye not have to do at\nthat tournament? well I wot Sir Palamides will be there and do what he\nmay, and therefore, Sir Tramtrist, I pray you to be there, for else Sir\nPalamides is like to win the degree.\"\n\"Madam,\" said Sir Tramtrist, \"as for that he may do so, for he is a\nproved knight, and I am but a young knight and late made, and the\nfirst battle that I did it mishapped me to be sore wounded as ye see.\nBut and I wist [_if I knew_] that ye would be my better lady, at that\ntournament I will be, so that ye will keep my counsel, and let no\ncreature have knowledge that I shall joust but yourself, and such as\nye will to keep your counsel; my poor person shall I jeopard there for\nyour sake, that peradventure Sir Palamides shall know when that I come.\"\n\"Thereto,\" said la Belle Isolde, \"do your best, and as I can,\" said la\nBelle Isolde, \"I shall purvey horse and armor for you at my devise.\"\n\"As ye will so be it,\" said Sir Tramtrist, \"I will be at your\ncommandment.\"\nSo at the day of jousts there came Sir Palamides with a black shield,\nand he overthrew many knights, that all the people had marvel of him.\nFor he put to the worse Sir Gawaine, Gaheris, Agravaine, Bagdemagus,\nKay, Dodinas le Savage, Sagramor le Desirous, Gumret le Petit, and\nGriflet le Fise de Dieu. All these the first day Sir Palamides strake\ndown to the earth. And then all manner of knights were adread of Sir\nPalamides, and many called him the knight with the black shield. So\nthat day Sir Palamides had great worship. Then came King Anguish unto\nTramtrist and asked him why he would not joust.\n\"Sir,\" said he, \"I was but late hurt, and as yet I dare not adventure\nme.\"\nAnd so on the morn Sir Palamides made him ready to come into the field\nas he did the first day. And there he smote down the king with the\nhundred knights, and the King of Scotland. Then had la Belle Isolde\nordained and well arrayed Sir Tramtrist in white horse and harness.\nAnd right so she let put him out at a privy postern, and so he came\ninto the field as it had been a bright angel. And anon Sir Palamides\nespied him, and therewith he feutered [_laid in rest_] a spear unto Sir\nTramtrist, and he again unto him. And there Sir Tristram smote down Sir\nPalamides unto the earth. And then there was a great noise of people:\nsome said Sir Palamides had a fall, some said the knight with the black\nshield had a fall. And wit you well la Belle Isolde was passing glad.\nAnd then Sir Gawaine and his fellows nine had marvel what knight it\nmight be that had smitten down Sir Palamides. Then would there none\njoust with Tramtrist, but all that were there forsook him, most and\nleast. And when Sir Palamides had received this fall, wit ye well he\nwas sore ashamed; and as privily as he might he withdrew him out of\nthe field. All that espied Sir Tristram, and lightly he rode after Sir\nPalamides, and overtook him, and bade him turn, for better he would\nassay him or ever he departed. Then Sir Palamides turned him, and\neither lashed at other with their swords. But at the first stroke Sir\nTristram smote down Palamides, and gave him such a stroke upon the head\nthat he fell to the earth. So then Tristram bade yield him and do his\ncommandment, or else he would slay him. And when Sir Palamides beheld\nhis countenance, he dread sore his buffets, so that he granted him all\nhis asking.\n\"Well,\" said Sir Tristram unto him, \"this shall be your charge. First,\nupon pain of your life, that ye forsake my lady la Belle Isolde, and in\nno manner of wise that ye draw unto her, and also these twelve months\nand a day that ye bear none armor nor in like wise no harness of war.\nNow promise me this, or here shalt thou die.\"\n\"Alas!\" said Sir Palamides, \"now am I for ever shamed.\"\nAnd then he swore as Sir Tristram had commanded him. Then for great\ndespite and anger, Sir Palamides cut off his harness and threw it away.\nAnd then Sir Tristram rode privily unto the postern where la Belle\nIsolde kept him, and then she made him good cheer, and thanked God of\nhis good speed.\nThus was Sir Tramtrist long there well cherished with the king and\nqueen and namely [_likewise_] with la Belle Isolde. So upon a day the\nqueen and la Belle Isolde made a bayne [_bath_] for Sir Tramtrist, and\nwhen he was in his bayne, the queen and her daughter la Belle Isolde\nroamed up and down in the chamber, and there whiles Gouvernail and\nHebes attended upon Tramtrist, and the queen beheld his sword whereas\nit lay upon his bed. And then by unhap the queen drew out his sword\nand beheld it a long while, and both they thought it a passing fair\nsword, but within a foot and an half of the point there was a great\npiece broken out of the edge. And when the queen espied that gap in\nthe sword, she remembered of a piece of a sword that was found in the\nbrain-pan of the good knight Sir Marhaus that was her brother.\n\"Alas!\" said she then to her daughter la Belle Isolde. \"This is the\nsame traitorous knight that slew my brother thine uncle.\"\nWhen la Belle Isolde heard her say so, she was then passing sore\nabashed, for she loved Sir Tramtrist passingly well, and right well she\nknew the cruelness of her mother the queen. And so anon therewith the\nqueen went in all the haste that she might unto her own chamber, and\nthen she sought in a coffer that she had, and there she found and took\nout the piece of the sword that was taken out of her brother's head Sir\nMarhaus, after that he was dead. And then anon she ran with the same\npiece of iron unto Sir Tramtrist's sword which lay upon the bed, and\nso when she put the same piece of steel and iron unto the same sword,\nit was then as fit as ever it might be when it was first new broken.\nAnd so forthwith the queen caught that sword fiercely in her hand, and\nwith all her might she ran straight unto Tramtrist where he sat in a\nbayne, and there she had run him through had not Sir Hebes gotten her\nin his arms and pulled the sword from her, and else she had thrust him\nthrough. When she was thus letted of her evil will, she ran to King\nAnguish her husband, and fell on her knees before him, saying, \"Oh, my\nlord and husband, here have ye in your house that traitor knight that\nslew my brother and your servant, that noble knight Sir Marhaus.\"\n\"Who is that,\" said King Anguish, \"and where is he?\"\n\"Sir,\" said she, \"it is Sir Tramtrist, the same knight that my daughter\nhath healed.\"\n\"Alas!\" said King Anguish, \"therefore am I right neavy, for he is a\nfull noble knight as ever I saw in field, but I charge you,\" said the\nking to the queen, \"that ye have not to do with this knight, but let me\ndeal with him.\"\nThen the king went into the chamber to Sir Tramtrist, that then was\ngone unto his chamber, and then the king found him all armed, ready\nto mount upon his horse. And when the king saw him all ready armed to\nmount on horseback, the king said, \"Nay, Tramtrist, it will not avail\nthee to compare against me. But thus much will I do for my worship,\nand for thy love: in so much as thou art within this court, it were no\nworship for me to slay thee, therefore upon this condition I will give\nthee leave to depart from this court in safety, so that thou wilt tell\nme who is thy father, and what is thy name, and if thou slew my brother\nSir Marhaus.\"\n\"Sir,\" said Sir Tristram, \"now shall I tell you all the truth; my\nfather's name is Meliodas, King of Lyonesse, and my mother hight\nElizabeth, that was sister unto King Mark of Cornwall, and my mother\ndied of me in the forest, and because thereof she commanded or she died\nthat when I were christened that they should name me Tristram, and\nbecause I would not be known in this country, I turned my name, and let\ncall me Tramtrist; and for the truage of Cornwall, I fought for mine\nuncle's sake, and for the right of Cornwall that ye had possessed many\nyears. And wit ye well,\" said Tristram unto the king, \"I did the battle\nfor the love of mine uncle King Mark, and for the love of the country\nof Cornwall, and for to increase mine honor. For that same day that I\nfought with Sir Marhaus I was made knight, and never or then did I know\nbattle with no knight, and from me he went alive, and left his shield\nand his sword behind.\"\n\"Truly,\" said the king, \"I may not say but ye did as a knight should,\nand it was your part to do for your quarrel, and to increase your\nworship as a knight should; howbeit I may not maintain you in this\ncountry with my worship, unless that I should displease my barons, and\nmy wife, and her kin.\"\n\"Sir,\" said Tristram, \"I thank you of your good lordship that I have\nhad with you here, and the great goodness my lady your daughter hath\nshowed me, and therefore,\" said Sir Tristram, \"it may so happen that ye\nshall win more by my life than by my death, for in the parts of England\nit may happen I may do you service at some season that ye shall be glad\nthat ever ye showed me your good lordship. With more I promise you as I\nam true knight, that in all places I shall be my lady your daughter's\nservant and knight in right and in wrong, and I shall never fail her to\ndo as much as a knight may do. Also I beseech your good grace that I\nmay take my leave at my lady your daughter, and at all the barons and\nknights.\"\n\"I will well,\" said the king.\nThen Sir Tristram went unto la Belle Isolde, and took his leave of her.\nAnd then he told her all, what he was, and how he had changed his name\nbecause he would not be known, and how a lady told him that he should\nnever be whole till he came into this country where the poison was\nmade: \"Wherethrough I was near my death, had not your ladyship been.\"\n\"Oh, gentle knight,\" said la Belle Isolde, \"full woe am I of thy\ndeparting, for I saw never man that I owed so good will to.\" And\ntherewithal she wept heartily.\n\"Madam,\" said Sir Tristram, \"ye shall understand that my name is Sir\nTristram de Lyonesse, and I promise you faithfully that I shall be all\nthe days of my life your knight.\"\n\"Sir, gramercy,\" said la Belle Isolde, \"and there again I promise you\nthat I shall not be married of this seven year but if it be by your\nassent, and to whom ye will I shall be married, him shall I have, if he\nwill have me, if ye will consent.\"\nAnd then Sir Tristram gave her a ring, and she gave him another, and\ntherewith he departed from her, leaving her making full great moan and\nlamentation, and he went straight unto the court among all the barons,\nand there he took his leave of most and least, and openly among them\nall he said: \"Fair lords, now it is so that I must depart from hence,\nif there be any man here that I have offended unto, or that any man\nbe with me grieved, let him complain here before me or I depart from\nhence, and I shall amend it unto my power. And if there be any that\nwill proffer me wrong, or to say of me wrong or shame behind my back,\nsay it now or never, and here is my body to make it good, body against\nbody.\"\nAnd all they stood still, there was not one that would say one word,\nyet were there some knights which were of the queen's blood and of Sir\nMarhaus' blood, but they would not meddle with him.\nSo Sir Tristram departed and took the sea, and with good wind he\narrived up at Tintagil in Cornwall. And when King Mark was whole and in\nhis prosperity, there came tidings that Sir Tristram was arrived and\nwhole of his wound, whereof King Mark was passing glad, and so were\nall the barons. And when he saw his time, he rode unto his father King\nMeliodas, and there he had all the cheer that the king and the queen\ncould make him. And then largely King Meliodas and his queen parted of\ntheir lands and goods unto Sir Tristram. So then by the license [leave]\nof King Meliodas his father, he returned again unto the court of King\nMark, and there he lived in great joy long time, until at the last\nthere befell a jealousy and an unkindness between King Mark and Sir\nTristram.\nThen King Mark cast always in his heart how he might destroy Sir\nTristram. And then he imagined in himself to send Sir Tristram\ninto Ireland for la Belle Isolde. For Sir Tristram had so praised\nher beauty and her goodness that King Mark said he would wed her,\nwhereupon he prayed Sir Tristram to take his way into Ireland for him\non message. And all this was done to the intent to slay Sir Tristram.\nNotwithstanding, Sir Tristram would not refuse the message for no\ndanger nor peril that might fall for the pleasure of his uncle, but to\ngo he made him ready in the most goodliest wise that might be devised.\nSo Sir Tristram departed and took the sea with all his fellowship. And\nanon as he was in the broad sea, a tempest took him and his fellowship\nand drove them back into the coast of England, and there they arrived\nfast by Camelot, and full fain they were to take the land. And when\nthey were landed Sir Tristram set up his pavilion upon the land of\nCamelot, and there he let hang his shield upon the pavilion.\nThen when Sir Tristram was in his rich pavilion, Gouvernail his man\ncame and told him how King Anguish of Ireland was come there, and how\nhe was put in great distress; and there Gouvernail told to Sir Tristram\nhow King Anguish of Ireland was summoned and accused of murder.\n\"So God me help,\" said Sir Tristram, \"these be the best tidings that\never came to me this seven year, for now shall the King of Ireland have\nneed of my help, for I dare say there is no knight in this country that\nis not of King Arthur's court dare do no battle with Sir Blamor de\nGanis; and for to win the love of the King of Ireland, I shall take the\nbattle upon me; and therefore, Gouvernail, I charge thee to bring me to\nthe king.\"\nAnd so Gouvernail went unto King Anguish of Ireland, and saluted him\nfair. The king welcomed him, and asked him what he would.\n\"Sir,\" said Gouvernail, \"here is a knight near hand which desireth to\nspeak with you; and he bade me say that he would do you service.\"\n\"What knight is he?\" said the king.\n\"Sir,\" said he, \"it is Sir Tristram de Lyonesse, that for the good\ngrace that ye showed unto him in your land, he will reward you in this\ncountry.\"\n\"Come on, good fellow,\" said the king, \"with me, and show me Sir\nTristram.\"\nSo the king took a little hackney and a little company with him, until\nhe came unto Sir Tristram's pavilion. And when Sir Tristram saw King\nAnguish, he ran unto him, and would have holden his stirrup. But anon\nthe king leapt lightly from his horse, and either halsed [_embraced_]\nother in their arms.\n\"My gracious lord,\" said Sir Tristram, \"gramercy of your great goodness\nthat ye showed to me in your marches and lands. And at that time I\npromised you to do you service and ever it lay in my power.\"\n\"Ah, worshipful knight,\" said the king unto Sir Tristram, \"now have I\ngreat need of you; for never had I so great need of no knight's help.\"\n\"How so, my good lord?\" said Sir Tristram.\n\"I shall tell you,\" said King Anguish; \"I am summoned and appealed\nfrom my country for the death of a knight that was kin unto the good\nknight Sir Launcelot, wherefore Sir Blamor de Ganis, brother to Sir\nBleoberis, hath appealed me to fight with him, other [_or else_] to\nfind a knight in my stead. And well I wot,\" said the king, \"these that\nare come of King Ban's blood, as Sir Launcelot and these other, are\npassing good knights, and hard men for to win in battle as any that I\nknow now living.\"\n\"Sir,\" said Sir Tristram, \"for the good lordship ye showed me in\nIreland, and for my lady your daughter's sake, la Belle Isolde, I\nwill take the battle for you upon this condition that ye shall grant\nme two things: that one is, that ye shall swear to me that ye are in\nthe right, that ye were never consenting to the knight's death; sir,\nthen,\" said Sir Tristram, \"when that I have done this battle, if God\ngive me grace that I speed, that ye shall give me a reward, what thing\nreasonable that I will ask of you.\"\n\"Truly,\" said the king, \"ye shall have whatsoever ye will ask.\"\n\"It is well said,\" said Sir Tristram.\nThen were the lists made ready, and Sir Tristram and Sir Blamor de\nGanis, in the presence of the kings, judges, and knights, feutered\n[_laid in rest_] their spears and came together as it had been thunder,\nand there Sir Tristram through great might smote down Sir Blamor and\nhis horse to the earth. Then anon Sir Blamor avoided his horse, and\npulled out his sword and threw his shield afore him, and bade Sir\nTristram alight; \"for though an horse hath failed me, I trust the earth\nwill not fail me.\"\nAnd then Sir Tristram alighted and dressed him unto battle, and there\nthey lashed together strongly as racing and tracing, foining and\ndashing many sad strokes, that the kings and knights had great wonder\nthat they might stand, for ever they fought like two wild men, so\nthat there were never knights seen fight more fiercely than they did;\nfor Sir Blamor was so hasty that he would have no rest, that all men\nwondered that they had breath to stand on their feet; all the place\nwas bloody that they fought in. And at the last Sir Tristram smote Sir\nBlamor such a buffet upon the helm that he fell down upon his side, and\nSir Tristram stood and beheld him.\nThen when Sir Blamor might speak, he said thus:--\n\"Sir Tristram de Lyonesse, I require thee, as thou art a noble knight,\nand the best knight that ever I found, that thou wilt slay me out of\nhand [_straightway_], for I had liever die with worship than live\nwith shame, and needs, Sir Tristram, thou must slay me, or else thou\nshalt never win the field, for I will never say the loth word [_of\nsurrender_]; and therefore, if thou dare slay me, slay me, I require\nthee.\"\nAnd when Sir Tristram heard him say so knightly, he wist not what to\ndo with him. And then Sir Tristram started aback and went to the kings\nwhich were judges; and there he kneeled down before them, and besought\nthem for their worship, and for King Arthur and Sir Launcelot's sake,\nthat they would take this matter in their hands:\n\"For, fair lords,\" said Sir Tristram, \"it were shame and pity that this\nnoble knight that yonder lieth should be slain, for ye may well hear\nthat shamed he will not be, and I pray to God that he never be slain\nnor shamed for me. And as for the king for whom I do this battle, I\nshall require him, as I am his true champion and true knight in this\nfield, that he will have mercy upon this good knight.\"\n\"So God me help,\" said King Anguish to Sir Tristram, \"I will be ruled\nfor your sake as ye will have me. For I know you for my true knight,\nand therefore I will heartily pray the kings that be here as judges for\nto take it into their hands.\"\nAnd then the kings which were judges called Sir Bleoberis unto them and\ndemanded his advice.\n\"My lord,\" said Sir Bleoberis, \"though that my brother be beaten and\nboth the worse through might of arms, I dare well say though Sir\nTristram hath beaten his body he hath not beaten his heart; I thank\nGod he is not shamed this day. And rather than he should be shamed, I\nrequire you,\" said Sir Bleoberis, \"let Sir Tristram slay him out of\nhand [_immediately_].\"\n\"It shall not be so,\" said the kings, \"for his adverse party, both the\nking and the champion, hath pity of Sir Blamor's knighthood.\"\n\"My lords,\" said Sir Bleoberis, \"I will right well as ye will.\"\nThen the kings called to them the King of Ireland, and found him good\nand treatable [_willing to agree_]. And then by all their advices Sir\nTristram and Sir Bleoberis took up Sir Blamor. And the two brethren\nwere accorded with King Anguish; and kissed each other and were made\nfriends for ever. And then Sir Blamor and Sir Tristram kissed each\nother, and then the two brethren made their oaths that they would\nnever fight with Sir Tristram. And Sir Tristram made the same oath.\nAnd for that gentle battle all the blood of Sir Launcelot loved Sir\nTristram for ever more. Then King Anguish and Sir Tristram took their\nleave and sailed into Ireland with great joy and nobleness. So when\nthey were in Ireland, the king let make it be known throughout all the\nland how and in what manner Sir Tristram had done for him. And then the\nqueen and all the estates that were there made as much of him as ever\nthey might make; but the joy that la Belle Isolde made of Sir Tristram,\nthat might no tongue tell, for of men living she loved him most.\nThen upon a day King Anguish asked Sir Tristram why he asked not his\nboon, for whatsoever he had promised him he should have it without fail.\n\"Sir,\" said Sir Tristram, \"now is it time, this is all that I will\ndesire, that ye will give me la Belle Isolde, your daughter, not for\nmyself, but for mine uncle King Mark, that shall have her to wife, for\nso have I promised him.\"\n\"Alas,\" said the king, \"I had liever than all the land that I have ye\nwould wed her yourself.\"\n\"Sir, and I did, then were I shamed for ever in this world, and false\nof my promise. Therefore,\" said Sir Tristram, \"I pray you hold your\npromise that ye promised me, for this is my desire, that ye will give\nme la Belle Isolde to go with me into Cornwall, for to be wedded to\nKing Mark mine uncle.\"\n\"As for that,\" said King Anguish, \"ye shall have her with you, to do\nwith her what it please you, that is for to say if that ye list to wed\nher yourself, that is to me lievest, and if ye will give her unto King\nMark your uncle, that is in your choice.\"\nSo to make a short conclusion, la Belle Isolde was made ready to go\nwith Sir Tristram, and dame Bragwaine went with her for her chief\ngentlewoman, with many other.\nAnd anon they were richly wedded with great nobleness. But ever Sir\nTristram and la Belle Isolde loved ever together.\nThen was there great jousts and great tourneying, and many lords and\nladies were at that feast, and Sir Tristram was most praised of all\nother.\n[Then, as time passed by, Sir Tristram grieved sorely in his heart that\nla Belle Isolde was wedded to King Mark, till that he became as a wood\nman, and mounted his horse and rode forth into the forest away from\nTintagil. So Sir Palamides sent a damsel to inquire after Sir Tristram.]\nAnd she went to the lady of [a certain] castle, and told her of the\nmisadventure of Sir Tristram.\n\"Alas,\" said the lady of that castle, \"where is my lord Sir Tristram?\"\n\"Right here by your castle,\" said the damsel.\n\"In good time,\" said the lady, \"is he so nigh me: he shall have meat\nand drink of the best, and a harp I have of his whereupon he taught\nme,--for of goodly harping he beareth the prize in the world.\"\nSo this lady and the damsel brought him meat and drink, but he eat\nlittle thereof. Then upon a night he put his horse from him, and\nthen he unlaced his armor, and then Sir Tristram would go into the\nwilderness, and burst down the trees and boughs; and otherwhile, when\nhe found the harp that the lady sent him, then would he harp and play\nthereupon and weep together. And sometime when Sir Tristram was in the\nwood, that the lady wist not where he was, then would she sit her down\nand play upon that harp; then would Sir Tristram come to that harp and\nhearken thereto, and sometime he would harp himself. Thus he there\nendured a quarter of a year. Then at the last he ran his way, and she\nwist not where he was become. And then was he naked, and waxed lean\nand poor of flesh, and so he fell into the fellowship of herdmen and\nshepherds, and daily they would give him of their meat and drink. And\nwhen he did any shrewd deed they would beat him with rods, and so they\nclipped him with shears and made him like a fool.\nAnd upon a day Sir Dagonet, King Arthur's fool, came into Cornwall,\nwith two squires with him, and as they rode through the forest they\ncame by a fair well where Sir Tristram was wont to be, and the weather\nwas hot, and they alighted to drink of that well, and in the meanwhile\ntheir horses brake loose. Right so Sir Tristram came unto them, and\nfirst he soused Sir Dagonet in that well, and after his squires, and\nthereat laughed the shepherds, and forthwithal he ran after their\nhorses, and brought them again one by one, and right so, wet as they\nwere, he made them leap up and ride their ways. Thus Sir Tristram\nendured here an half year naked, and would never come in town nor\nvillage.\nAnd there was a giant in that country that hight Tauleas, and for\nfear of Sir Tristram more than seven years he durst not much go out at\nlarge, but for the most part he kept him in a sure castle of his own.\nAnd so this Sir Tauleas heard tell that Sir Tristram was dead by the\nnoise of the court of King Mark, and then Sir Tauleas went daily at\nlarge. And so it happened upon a day he came to the herdmen wandering\nand lingering, and there he set him down to rest among them. The\nmeanwhile there came a knight of Cornwall that led a lady with him,\nand his name was Sir Dinant. And when the giant saw him, he went from\nthe herdmen and hid him under a tree. And so the knight came to the\nwell, and there he alighted to rest him. And as soon as he was from his\nhorse, the giant Sir Tauleas came between the knight and his horse, and\nleaped upon him. So forthwith he rode unto Sir Dinant, and took him by\nthe collar, and drew him before him on his horse, and there would have\nstricken off his head. Then the herdmen said unto Sir Tristram, \"Help\nyonder knight.\"\n\"Help ye him,\" said Sir Tristram.\n\"We dare not,\" said the herdmen.\nThen Sir Tristram was ware of the sword of the knight where it lay, and\nthither he ran and took up the sword, and smote off Sir Tauleas' head,\nand so went his way to the herdmen again.\nThen the knight took up the giant's head, and bare it with him unto\nKing Mark, and told him what adventure betid him in the forest, and how\na naked man rescued him from the grimly giant Tauleas.\n\"Where had ye this adventure?\" said King Mark.\n\"Forsooth,\" said Sir Dinant, \"at the fair fountain in your forest,\nwhere many adventurous knights meet, and there is the mad man.\"\n\"Well,\" said King Mark, \"I will see that mad man.\"\nSo within a day or two King Mark commanded his knights and his hunters\nthat they should be ready on the morrow for to hunt. And on the morrow\nhe went unto the forest. And when the king came to the well, he found\nthere lying by that well a fair naked man, and a sword by him. Then the\nking blew and screked [_called shrilly_] and therewith his knights came\nto him. And then the king commanded his knights to take that naked man\nwith fairness, \"and bring him to my castle.\" So they did softly and\nfair, and cast mantles upon Sir Tristram, and so led him unto Tintagil;\nand there they bathed him and washed him, and gave him hot suppings,\ntill they had brought him well to his remembrance. But all this while\nthere was no creature that knew Sir Tristram, nor what man he was. So\nit fell upon a day that the queen la Belle Isolde heard of such a man\nthat ran naked in the forest, and how the king had brought him home\nto the court. Then la Belle Isolde called unto her dame Bragwaine,\nand said, \"Come on with me, for we will go see this man that my lord\nbrought from the forest the last day.\"\nSo they passed forth, and asked where was the sick man. And then a\nsquire told the queen that he was in the garden taking his rest,\nand reposing him against the sun. So when the queen looked upon Sir\nTristram she was not remembered of [_did not remember_] him. But\never she said unto dame Bragwaine, \"Me seemeth I should have seen him\nheretofore in many places.\"\nBut as soon as Sir Tristram saw her he knew her well enough, and then\nhe turned away his visage and wept. Then the queen had always a little\nbrachet with her, that Sir Tristram gave her the first time that ever\nshe came into Cornwall, and never would that brachet depart from her,\nbut if Sir Tristram was nigh there as was la Belle Isolde; and this\nbrachet was sent from the king's daughter of France unto Sir Tristram\nfor great love. And anon as this little brachet felt a savor of Sir\nTristram, she leaped upon him, and licked his learis [_cheeks_] and his\nears, and then she whined and quested, and she smelled at his feet and\nat his hands, and on all parts of his body that she might come to.\n\"Ah, my lady,\" said dame Bragwaine unto la Belle Isolde, \"alas, alas!\"\nsaid she, \"I see it is mine own lord Sir Tristram.\"\nAnd thereupon Isolde fell down in a sowne [_swoon_], and so lay a great\nwhile; and when she might speak, she said: \"My lord Sir Tristram,\nblessed be God ye have your life, and now I am sure ye shall be\ndiscovered by this little brachet, for she will never leave you; and\nalso I am sure that as soon as my lord King Mark shall know you, he\nwill banish you out of the country of Cornwall, or else he will destroy\nyou. For God's sake, mine own lord, grant King Mark his will, and then\ndraw you unto the court of King Arthur, for there are ye beloved.\"\nThen la Belle Isolde departed, but the brachet would not from him. And\ntherewith came King Mark, and the brachet set upon him, and bayed at\nthem all. And therewith Sir Andret spake and said: \"Sir, this is Sir\nTristram, I see by the brachet.\"\n\"Nay,\" said the king, \"I cannot suppose that it is he.\"\nSo the king asked him upon his faith what he was, and what was his name.\n\"So God help,\" said he, \"my name is Sir Tristram de Lyonesse, and now\nye may do with me what ye list.\"\nAnd so, by the advice of them all, Sir Tristram was banished out of the\ncountry of Cornwall for ten year, and thereupon he took his oath.\nAnd then were many barons brought him into his ship. And when Sir\nTristram was in the ship, he said thus: \"Greet well King Mark and all\nmine enemies, and tell them I will come again when I may. And well I\nam rewarded for the fighting with Sir Marhaus, and delivering all the\ncountry from servage [_subjection_]. And well I am rewarded for the\nfetching and costs of la Belle Isolde out of Ireland, and the danger\nthat I was in first and last, and by the way coming home what danger I\nhad to bring again Queen Isolde from the castle. And well I am rewarded\nwhen I fought with Sir Bleoberis for Sir Segwarides' wife. And well am\nI rewarded when I fought with Sir Blamor de Ganis for King Anguish,\nfather unto la Belle Isolde. And well am I rewarded when I smote down\nthe good knight Sir Lamorak de Galis at King Mark's request. And well\nam I rewarded when I fought with the king with the hundred knights,\nand the King of Northgalis, and both these would have put his land in\nservage, and by me they were put to a rebuke. And well am I rewarded\nfor the slaying of Tauleas the mighty giant, and many moe deeds have I\ndone for him, and now have I my guerdon. And tell the King Mark that\nmany noble knights of the Round Table have spared the barons of this\ncountry for my sake. Also I am not well rewarded when I fought with\nthe good knight Sir Palamides, and rescued Queen Isolde from him. And\nat that time King Mark said before all his barons I should have been\nbetter rewarded.\" And therewith he took the sea.\n[In those days was holden a great tournament at the Castle of Maidens,\nand thereto came Sir Tristram, for King Arthur was there, with his\nknights, and a goodly press of other kings, lords and ladies. And Sir\nTristram let make him a black shield, and therewith was he ever to be\nknown in the midst of the knights. And Sir Tristram overthrew eleven\nknights of Sir Launcelot's kin in one day, and jousted with King Arthur\nand with Sir Launcelot in such wise that all men wondered. And at the\nlast Sir Tristram was sore wounded, and rode away into a forest. But\nSir Launcelot held away the stour [_fight_] like as a man enraged that\ntook no heed to himself.] And because Sir Launcelot was the last in\nthe field the prize was given him. But Sir Launcelot would neither for\nking, queen, nor knight have the prize; but when the cry was cried\nthrough the field, \"Sir Launcelot. Sir Launcelot, hath won the field\nthis day!\" Sir Launcelot let make another cry contrary to that cry:\n\"Sir Tristram hath won the field, for he began first, and last he hath\nendured, and so hath he done the first day, the second, and the third\nday.\"\n[And so King Arthur and Sir Launcelot and more knights rode forth for\nto find Sir Tristram. And after many adventures it happened that Sir\nLauncelot passed by the tomb of Sir Lanceor (him that was slain by\nBalin) and his lady Colombe. And by that same tomb came Sir Tristram:\nand neither knew the other, but Sir Tristram weened it to have been\nSir Palamides. Then they two fought, and each wounded other wonderly\nsore, that the blood ran out upon the grass. And thus they fought the\nspace of four hours. And at the last either knew other. Then cried Sir\nLauncelot,] \"Oh, what adventure is befallen me!\"\nAnd therewith Sir Launcelot kneeled down and yielded him up his\nsword. And therewithal Sir Tristram kneeled adown, and yielded him up\nhis sword. And so either gave other the degree. And then they both\nforthwithal went to the stone, and set them down upen it, and took off\ntheir helms to cool them, and either kissed other an hundred times. And\nthen anon after they took their helms and rode to Camelot. And there\nthey met with Sir Gawaine and with Sir Gaheris that had made promise\nto Arthur never to come again to the court till they had brought Sir\nTristram with them.\nThen King Arthur took Sir Tristram by the hand, and led him unto the\nRound Table. Then came Queen Guenever, and many ladies with her, and\nall these ladies said, all with one voice, \"Welcome, Sir Tristram;\"\n\"welcome,\" said the damsels; \"welcome,\" said the knights; \"welcome,\"\nsaid King Arthur, \"for one of the best knights and gentlest of the\nworld, and knight of the most worship; for of all manner of hunting\nthou bearest the prize, and of all measures of blowing thou art the\nbeginner, and of all the terms of hunting and hawking ye are the\nbeginner; of all instruments of music ye are the best. Therefore,\ngentle knight,\" said King Arthur, \"ye are right heartily welcome unto\nthis court. And also I pray you,\" said King Arthur, \"grant me a boon.\"\n\"It shall be at your commandment,\" said Sir Tristram.\n\"Well,\" said King Arthur, \"I will desire of you that ye will abide in\nmy court.\"\n\"Sir,\" said Sir Tristram, \"thereto am I loth, for I have to do in many\ncountries.\"\n\"Not so,\" said King Arthur, \"ye have promised it me, ye may not say\nnay.\"\n\"Sir,\" said Sir Tristram, \"I will as ye will.\"\nThen went King Arthur unto the sieges about the Round Table, and looked\nin every siege which were void that lacked knights. And the king then\nsaw in the siege of Marhaus letters that said:--\n\"This is the siege of the noblest knight Sir Tristram.\"\nAnd then King Arthur made Sir Tristram knight of the Round Table, with\ngreat nobleness and great feast as might be thought.\nThen King Mark had great despite of the renown of Sir Tristram. So\nhe sent on his part men to espy what deeds he did. And when the\nmessengers were come home, they told the truth as they heard, that he\npassed all other knights but if it were the noble knight Sir Launcelot.\nThen in great despite he took with him two good knights and two\nsquires, and disguised himself, and took his way into England, to the\nintent to slay him.\n[And it happened that Sir Dinadan met King Mark, and began to mock\nhim for a Cornish knight of no worship. And] right as they stood thus\ntalking together, they saw come riding to them over a plain six knights\nof the court of King Arthur, well armed at all points. And there by\ntheir shields Sir Dinadan knew them well. The first was the good knight\nSir Uwaine, the son of King Uriens; the second was the noble knight Sir\nBrandiles; the third was Ozanna le Cure Hardy; the fourth was Uwaine\nles Adventurous; the fifth was Sir Agravaine; the sixth Sir Mordred,\nbrother to Sir Gawaine. When Sir Dinadan had seen these six knights, he\nthought in himself he would bring King Mark by some wile to joust with\none of them.\n\"Lo,\" said Sir Dinadan, \"yonder are knights errant that will joust with\nus.\"\n\"God forbid,\" said King Mark, \"for they be six, and we but two.\"\n\"As for that,\" said Sir Dinadan, \"let us not spare, for I will assay\nthe foremost.\"\nAnd therewith he made him ready. When King Mark saw him do so, as fast\nas Sir Dinadan rode toward them King Mark rode from them with all his\nmenial company. So when Sir Dinadan saw King Mark was gone, he set the\nspear out of the rest, and threw his shield upon his back, and came\nriding to the fellowship of the Table Round. And anon Sir Uwaine knew\nSir Dinadan, and welcomed him, and so did all his fellowship.\n\"What knight is that,\" said Sir Brandiles, \"that so suddenly departed\nfrom you, and rode over yonder field?\"\n\"Sir,\" said he, \"it was a knight of Cornwall, and the most horrible\ncoward that ever bestrode horse.\"\n\"What is his name?\" said all the knights.\n\"I wot not,\" said Sir Dinadan.\nSaid Sir Griflet, \"Here have I brought Sir Dagonet, King Arthur's fool,\nthat is the best fellow and the merriest in the world.\"\n[Then said Sir Mordred,] \"Put my shield and my harness upon Sir\nDagonet, and let him set upon the Cornish knight.\"\n\"That shall be done,\" said Sir Dagonet, \"by my faith.\"\nThen anon was Dagonet armed in Mordred's harness and his shield, and he\nwas set on a great horse and a spear in his hand.\n\"Now,\" said Dagonet, \"show me the knight, and I trow I shall bear him\ndown.\"\nSo all these knights rode to a woodside, and abode till King Mark came\nby the way. Then they put forth Sir Dagonet, and he came on all the\nwhile his horse might run, straight upon King Mark. And when he came\nnigh King Mark, he cried as he were wood, and said, \"Keep thee, knight\nof Cornwall, for I will slay thee.\"\nAnon as King Mark beheld his shield he said to himself, \"Yonder is Sir\nLauncelot: alas, now am I destroyed.\"\nAnd therewithal he made his horse to run as fast as it might through\nthick and thin. And ever Sir Dagonet followed King Mark crying and\nrating him as a wood man through a great forest. When Sir Uwaine and\nSir Brandiles saw Dagonet so chase King Mark, they laughed all as they\nwere wood. And then they took their horses and rode after to see how\nSir Dagonet sped. For they would not for no good that Sir Dagonet were\nhurt, for King Arthur loved him passing well, and made him knight with\nhis own hands.\nWhen Sir Uwaine and Sir Brandiles with his fellows came to the court of\nKing Arthur, they told the king, Sir Launcelot, and Sir Tristram how\nSir Dagonet the fool chased King Mark through the forest. There was\ngreat laughing and jesting at King Mark and at Sir Dagonet.\nKing Arthur on a day said unto King Mark,--\n\"Sir, I pray you to give me a gift that I shall ask you.\"\n\"Sir,\" said King Mark, \"I will give you whatsoever ye desire, and it be\nin my power.\"\n\"Sir, gramercy,\" said King Arthur, \"this I will ask you, that ye be a\ngood lord unto Sir Tristram, for he is a man of great honor; and that\nye will take him with you into Cornwall, and let him see his friends,\nand there cherish him for my sake.\"\n\"Sir,\" said King Mark, \"I promise you by the faith of my body, and by\nthe faith I owe to God and to you, I shall worship him for your sake in\nall that I can or may.\"\n\"Sir,\" said Arthur, \"and I will forgive you all the evil will that\never I owed you, and so be that ye swear that upon a book afore me.\"\n\"With a good will,\" said King Mark.\nAnd so he there sware upon a book afore him and all his knights, and\ntherewith King Mark and Sir Tristram took either other by the hands\nhard knit together. But for all this King Mark thought falsely, as\nit proved after, for he put Sir Tristram in prison, and cowardly\nwould have slain him. Then soon after King Mark took his leave to\nride into Cornwall, and Sir Tristram made him ready to ride with him,\nwherefore the most part of the Round Table were wroth and heavy; and\nin especial Sir Launcelot, and Sir Lamorak, and Sir Dinadan were wroth\nout of measure. For well they wist King Mark would slay or destroy Sir\nTristram.\nNow turn we unto Sir Tristram, that, as he rode on hunting, he met with\nSir Dinadan, that was come into that country for to seek Sir Tristram.\nThen Sir Dinadan told Sir Tristram his name, but Sir Tristram would not\ntell his name; wherefor Sir Dinadan was wroth.\n\"For such a foolish knight as ye are,\" said Sir Dinadan, \"I saw but\nlate to-day lying by a well, and he fared as he had slept, and there\nhe lay like a fool grinning and would not speak, and his shield lay by\nhim, and his horse stood by him, and well I wot he was a lover.\"\n\"Ah, fair sir,\" said Sir Tristram, \"are ye not a lover?\"\n\"Marry, fie upon that craft,\" said Sir Dinadan.\n\"That is evil said,\" quoth Sir Tristram, \"for a knight may never be of\nprowess, but if he be a lover.\"\n\"It is well said,\" quoth Sir Dinadan; \"now tell me your name, sith ye\nbe a lover, or else I shall do battle with you.\"\n\"As for that,\" said Sir Tristram, \"it is no reason to fight with me but\nI tell you my name; as for that, my name shall ye not know as at this\ntime.\"\n\"Fie for shame,\" said Sir Dinadan, \"art thou a knight and darest not\ntell me thy name? therefore I will fight with thee.\"\n\"As for that,\" said Sir Tristram, \"I will be advised, for I will not\nfight but if me list; and if I do battle,\" said Sir Tristram, \"ye are\nnot able for to withstand me.\"\n\"Fie on thee, coward,\" said Sir Dinadan.\nAnd thus as they still hoved, they saw a knight come riding against\nthem.\n\"Lo,\" said Sir Tristram, \"see where cometh a knight riding that will\njoust with you.\"\nAnon, as Sir Dinadan beheld him, he said, \"It is the same doting knight\nthat I saw lie by the well neither sleeping nor waking.\"\n\"Well,\" said Sir Tristram, \"I know that knight full well with the\ncovered shield of azure; he is the king's son of Northumberland, his\nname is Epinegris, and he is as great a lover as I know, and he loveth\nthe king's daughter of Wales, a full fair lady. And now I suppose,\"\nsaid Sir Tristram, \"and ye require him he will joust with you; and then\nshall ye prove whether a lover be a better knight or ye that will not\nlove no lady.\"\n\"Well,\" said Sir Dinadan, \"now shalt thou see what I shall do.\"\nTherewithal Sir Dinadan spake on high and said, \"Sir knight, make thee\nready to joust with me, for it is the custom of errant knights one to\njoust with the other.\"\n\"Sir,\" said Epinegris, \"is it the rule of you errant knights for to\nmake a knight to joust will he or nill?\"\n\"As for that,\" said Dinadan, \"make thee ready, for here is for me.\"\nAnd therewithal they spurred their horses, and met together so hard\nthat Epinegris smote down Sir Dinadan. Then Sir Tristram rode to Sir\nDinadan, and said, \"How now? me seemeth the lover hath right well sped.\"\n\"Fie upon thee, coward,\" said Sir Dinadan, \"and if thou be any good\nknight, now revenge my shame.\"\n\"Nay,\" said Sir Tristram, \"I will not joust as at this time, but take\nyour horse and let us go from hence.\"\n\"God defend me,\" said Sir Dinadan, \"from thy fellowship, for I never\nsped well sith I met with thee.\"\nAnd so they departed.\n\"Well,\" said Sir Tristram, \"peradventure I could tell you tidings of\nSir Tristram.\"\n\"God defend me,\" said Sir Dinadan, \"from thy fellowship, for Sir\nTristram were much the worse and he were in thy company.\"\nAnd then they departed.\n\"Sir,\" said Sir Tristram, \"yet it may happen that I shall meet with you\nin other places.\"\nAnd so Sir Tristram rode unto Joyous Gard, and there heard in that town\ngreat noise and cry.\n\"What meaneth this noise?\" said Sir Tristram.\n\"Sir,\" said they, \"here is a knight of this castle which hath been long\namong us, and right now he is slain with two knights, and for none\nother cause but that our knight said that Sir Launcelot was a better\nknight than was Sir Gawaine.\"\n\"That was but a simple cause,\" said Sir Tristram, \"to slay a good\nknight because he said well by his master.\"\n\"That is but a little remedy unto us,\" said the men of the town; \"for\nif Sir Launcelot had been here, soon we should have been revenged upon\nthose false knights.\"\nWhen Sir Tristram heard them say so, incontinent he sent for his shield\nand for his spear, and lightly within a little while he had overtaken\nthem, and bade them turn and amend that they had misdone.\n\"What amends wouldst thou have?\" said that one knight.\nAnd therewith they took their course, and either met other so hard,\nthat Sir Tristram smote down that knight over his horse's crupper. Then\nthe other knight dressed him unto Sir Tristram, and in the same wise as\nhe served the first knight, so he served him. And then they gat them\nupon their feet as well as they might, and dressed their shields and\ntheir swords to do their battle unto the uttermost.\n\"Knights,\" said Sir Tristram, \"ye shall tell me of whence ye are and\nwhat be your names.\"\n\"Wit thou well, sir knight,\" said they, \"we fear us not to tell thee\nour names, for my name is Sir Agravaine, and my name is Gaheris,\nbrethren unto the good knight Sir Gawaine, and we be nephews unto King\nArthur.\"\n\"Well,\" said Sir Tristram, \"for King Arthur's sake I shall let you pass\nas at this time. But it is shame,\" said Sir Tristram, \"that Sir Gawaine\nand ye that be come of so great a blood, that ye four brethren are so\nnamed as ye be. For ye be called the greatest destroyers and murderers\nof good knights that be now in this realm; for it is but as I heard\nsay, that Sir Gawaine and ye slew among you a better knight than ever\nye were, that was the noble knight Sir Lamorak de Galis; and it had\npleased God,\" said Sir Tristram, \"I would I had been by Sir Lamorak at\nhis death.\"\n\"Then shouldest thou have gone the same way,\" said Sir Gaheris.\n\"Fair knight,\" said Sir Tristram, \"there must have been many more\nknights than ye are.\"\nAnd therewithal Sir Tristram departed from them towards Joyous Gard.\nAnd when he was departed they took their horses, and the one said\nto the other, \"We will overtake him and be revenged upon him in the\ndespite of Sir Lamorak.\"\nSo when they had overtaken Sir Tristram, Sir Agravaine bade him, \"Turn,\ntraitor knight.\"\n\"That is evil said,\" said Sir Tristram; and therewith he pulled out\nhis sword, and smote Sir Agravaine such a buffet upon the helm that he\ntumbled down off his horse in a swoon, and he had a grievous wound. And\nthen he turned to Gaheris, and Sir Tristram smote his sword and his\nhelm together with such a might that Gaheris fell out of his saddle;\nand so Sir Tristram rode unto Joyous Gard, and there he alighted and\nunarmed him. So Sir Tristram told la Belle Isolde of all his adventure\nas ye have heard tofore. And when she heard him tell of Sir Dinadan,\n\"Sir,\" she said, \"is not that he that made the song by King Mark?\"\n\"That same is he,\" said Sir Tristram, \"for he is the best joker and\njester, and a noble knight of his hands, and the best fellow that I\nknow, and all good knights love his fellowship.\"\n\"Alas, sir,\" said she, \"why brought ye not him with you?\"\n\"Have ye no care,\" said Sir Tristram, \"for he rideth to seek me in this\ncountry, and therefore he will not away till he have met with me.\"\nAnd there Sir Tristram told la Belle Isolde how Sir Dinadan held\nagainst all lovers. Right so there came in a varlet and told Sir\nTristram how there was come an errant knight into the town with such\ncolors upon his shield.\n\"That is Sir Dinadan,\" said Sir Tristram. \"Wit ye what ye shall do?\"\nsaid Sir Tristram; \"send ye for him, my lady Isolde, and I will not be\nseen, and ye shall hear the merriest knight that ever ye spake withal,\nand the maddest talker, and I pray you heartily that ye make him good\ncheer.\"\nThen anon la Belle Isolde sent into the town, and prayed Sir Dinadan\nthat he would come into the castle and rest him there with a lady.\n\"With a good will,\" said Sir Dinadan; and so he mounted upon his horse,\nand rode into the castle; and there he alighted, and was unarmed and\nbrought into the castle. Anon la Belle Isolde came unto him, and either\nsaluted other. Then she asked him of whence he was.\n\"Madam,\" said Sir Dinadan, \"I am of King Arthur's court, and knight of\nthe Round Table, and my name is Sir Dinadan.\"\n\"What do ye in this country?\" said la Belle Isolde.\n\"Madam,\" said he, \"I seek the noble knight Sir Tristram, for it was\ntold me that he was in this country.\"\n\"It may well be,\" said la Belle Isolde, \"but I am not ware of him.\"\n\"Madam,\" said Sir Dinadan, \"I marvel of Sir Tristram and moe other\nlovers, what aileth them to be so mad and so assotted upon women.\"\n\"Why,\" said la Belle Isolde, \"are ye a knight and be ye no lover? it is\na shame unto you; wherefore ye may not be called a good knight, but if\nthat ye make a quarrel for a lady.\"\n\"God defend me,\" said Sir Dinadan, \"for the joy of love is too short,\nand the sorrow and what cometh thereof endureth over long.\"\n\"Ah!\" said la Belle Isolde, \"say ye not so, for here fast by was the\ngood knight Sir Bleoberis, which fought with three knights at once for\na damsel's sake, and he won her before the King of Northumberland.\"\n\"It was so,\" said Sir Dinadan, \"for I know him well for a good knight\nand a noble, and come of noble blood; for all be noble knights of whom\nhe is come of, that is Sir Launcelot du Lake.\"\n\"Now I pray you,\" said la Belle Isolde, \"tell me will ye fight for my\nlove with three knights that did me great wrong? and insomuch as ye be\na knight of King Arthur's court, I require you to do battle for me.\"\nThen Sir Dinadan said, \"I shall say unto you, ye are as fair a lady as\never I saw any, and much fairer than is my lady Queen Guenever; but wit\nye well at one word that I will not fight for you with three knights,\nJesu defend me.\"\nThen Isolde laughed, and had good game at him. So he had all the cheer\nthat she might make him; and there he lay all that night. And on the\nmorn early Sir Tristram armed him, and la Belle Isolde gave him a good\nhelm; and then he promised her that he would meet with Sir Dinadan, and\nthey two would ride together unto Lonazep, where the tournament should\nbe, \"and there shall I make ready for you, where ye shall see the\ntournament.\" Then departed Sir Tristram with two squires that bare his\nshield and his spears that were great and long.\nThen after that, Sir Dinadan departed and rode his way a great pace\nuntil he had overtaken Sir Tristram. And when Sir Dinadan had overtaken\nhim, he knew him anon, and he hated the fellowship of him above all\nother knights.\n\"Ah,\" said Sir Dinadan, \"art thou that coward knight that I met with\nyesterday, keep thee, for thou shalt joust with me, maugre thy head.\"\n\"Well,\" said Sir Tristram, \"and I am loth to joust.\"\nAnd so they let their horses run, and Sir Tristram missed of him a\npurpose, and Sir Dinadan brake a spear upon Sir Tristram; and therewith\nSir Dinadan dressed himself to draw out his sword.\n\"Not so,\" said Sir Tristram, \"why are ye so wroth? I will not fight.\"\n\"Fie on thee, coward,\" said Sir Dinadan, \"thou shamest all knights.\"\n\"As for that,\" said Sir Tristram, \"I care not, for I will wait upon you\nand be under your protection, for because ye are so good a knight ye\nmay save me.\"\n\"The devil deliver me of thee,\" said Sir Dinadan, \"for thou art as\ngoodly a man of arms and of thy person as ever I saw, and the most\ncoward that ever I saw. What wilt thou do with those great spears that\nthou carriest with thee?\"\n\"I shall give them,\" said Sir Tristram, \"to some good knight when I\ncome to the tournament; and if I see you do best I shall give them to\nyou.\"\nSo thus as they rode talking they saw where came an errant knight afore\nthem dressing him for to joust.\n\"Lo,\" said Sir Tristram, \"yonder is one will joust; now dress thee to\nhim.\"\n\"Ah! shame betide thee!\" said Sir Dinadan.\n\"Nay, not so,\" said Sir Tristram, \"for that knight seemeth a shrew.\"\n\"Then shall I,\" said Sir Dinadan.\nAnd so they dressed their shields and their spears, and they met\ntogether so hard that the other knight smote down Sir Dinadan from his\nhorse.\n\"Lo,\" said Sir Tristram, \"it had been better that ye had left.\"\n\"Fie on thee, coward!\" said Sir Dinadan.\nThen Sir Dinadan started up, and gat his sword in his hand, and\nproffered to do battle on foot.\n\"Whether in love or in wrath?\" said the other knight.\n\"Let us do battle in love,\" said Sir Dinadan.\n\"What is your name?\" said that knight, \"I pray you tell me.\"\n\"Wit ye well my name is Sir Dinadan.\"\n\"Ah, Sir Dinadan,\" said that knight, \"and my name is Sir Gareth, the\nyoungest brother unto Sir Gawaine.\"\nThen either made of other great joy, for this Sir Gareth was the best\nknight of all those brethren, and he proved a full good knight. Then\nthey took their horses, and there they spake of Sir Tristram, how he\nwas such a coward. And every word Sir Tristram heard, and laughed them\nto scorn. Then were they ware where there came a knight before them\nwell horsed and well armed.\n\"Fair knights,\" said Sir Tristram, \"look between you who shall joust\nwith yonder knight, for I warn you I will not have to do with him.\"\n\"Then shall I,\" said Sir Gareth.\nAnd so they encountered together, and there that knight smote down Sir\nGareth over his horse's crupper.\n\"How now?\" said Sir Tristram unto Sir Dinadan, \"dress thee now, and\nrevenge the good knight Sir Gareth.\"\n\"That shall I not,\" said Sir Dinadan, \"for he hath stricken down a much\nbigger knight than I am.\"\n\"Ah!\" said Sir Tristram, \"now Sir Dinadan, I see and perceive full well\nthat your heart faileth you, therefore now shall ye see what I shall\ndo.\"\nAnd then Sir Tristram hurled unto that knight, and smote him quite from\nhis horse. And when Sir Dinadan saw that, he marvelled greatly, and\nthen he deemed in himself that it was Sir Tristram. Then this knight\nthat was on foot pulled out his sword to do battle.\n\"What is your name?\" said Sir Tristram.\n\"Wit ye well,\" said the knight, \"my name is Sir Palamides.\"\n\"What knight hate ye most?\" said Sir Tristram.\n\"Sir knight,\" said he, \"I hate Sir Tristram to the death, for and I may\nmeet with him the one of us shall die.\"\n\"Ye say well,\" said Sir Tristram, \"and wit ye well that I am Sir\nTristram de Lyonesse, and now do your worst.\"\nWhen Sir Palamides heard him say so he was astonished, and then he\nsaid thus, \"I pray you, Sir Tristram, forgive me all mine evil will,\nand if I live I shall do you service above all other knights that be\nliving, and there as I have owed you evil will me sore repenteth. I\nwot not what aileth me, for me seemeth that ye are a good knight, and\nnone other knight that named himself a good knight should not hate you;\ntherefore I require you, Sir Tristram, take no displeasure at mine\nunkind words.\"\n\"Sir Palamides,\" said Sir Tristram, \"ye say well, and well I wot ye are\na good knight, for I have seen you proved, and many great enterprises\nhave ye taken upon you, and well achieved them; therefore,\" said Sir\nTristram, \"and ye have any evil will to me, now may ye right it, for I\nam ready at your hand.\"\n\"Not so, my lord Sir Tristram; I will do you knightly service in all\nthings as ye will command.\"\n\"And right so I will take you,\" said Sir Tristram.\nAnd so they rode forth on their ways, talking of many things.\n\"Oh my lord Sir Tristram,\" said Dinadan, \"foul have ye mocked me, for\ntruly I came into this country for your sake, and by the advice of\nmy lord Sir Launcelot, and yet would not Sir Launcelot tell me the\ncertainty of you, where I should find you.\"\n\"Truly,\" said Sir Tristram, \"Sir Launcelot wist well where I was, for I\nabode within his own castle.\"\nThus they rode until they were ware of the Castle of Lonazep, and then\nwere they ware of four hundred tents and pavilions, and marvellous\ngreat ordinance. \"So God me help,\" said Sir Tristram, \"yonder I see the\ngreatest ordinance that ever I saw.\"\n\"Sir,\" said Sir Palamides, \"me seemeth there was as great an ordinance\nat the Castle of Maidens upon the rock, where ye won the prize, for I\nsaw myself where ye forjousted thirty knights.\"\n\"Sir,\" said Sir Dinadan, \"and in Surluse, at that tournament that Sir\nGalahalt of the long isles made, the which lasted seven days, was as\ngreat a gathering as is here, for there were many nations.\"\n\"Who was the best?\" said Sir Tristram.\n\"Sir, it was Sir Launcelot du Lake, and the noble knight Sir Lamorak de\nGalis; Sir Launcelot won the degree.\"\n\"I doubt not,\" said Sir Tristram, \"but he won the degree, so that\nhe had not been overmatched with many knights. And of the death of\nSir Lamorak,\" said Sir Tristram, \"it was over great pity, for I dare\nsay that he was the cleanest mighted man, and the best winded of his\nage that was on live, for I knew him that he was the biggest knight\nthat ever I met withal, but if it were Sir Launcelot. Alas!\" said Sir\nTristram, \"full woe is me of his death, and, if they were all the\ncousins of my lord King Arthur that slew him, they should die for it,\nand all those that were consenting to his death. And for such things,\"\nsaid Sir Tristram, \"I fear to draw unto the court of my lord King\nArthur. I will that ye wit it,\" said Sir Tristram to Sir Gareth.\n\"Sir, I blame you not,\" said Sir Gareth, \"for well I understand the\nvengeance of my brethren Sir Gawaine, Sir Agravaine, Sir Gaheris, and\nSir Mordred; but for me,\" said Gareth, \"I meddle not of their matters,\ntherefore there is none of them that loveth me, and, for I understand\nthey be murderers of good knights, I left their company, and would God\nI had been by,\" said Sir Gareth, \"when the noble knight Sir Lamorak was\nslain.\"\n\"Now as Jesu be my help,\" said Sir Tristram, \"it is well said of you,\nfor I had liever than all the gold between this and Rome I had been\nthere.\"\n\"Truly,\" said Sir Palamides, \"I would I had been there, and yet I had\nnever the degree at no jousts there as he was, but he put me to the\nworse on foot or on horseback, and that day that he was slain he did\nthe most deeds of arms that ever I saw knight do all the days of my\nlife. And when the degree was given him by my lord King Arthur, Sir\nGawaine and his three brethren, Sir Agravaine, Sir Gaheris, and Sir\nMordred, set upon Sir Lamorak in a privy place, and there they slew his\nhorse, and so they fought with him on foot more than three hours, both\nbefore him and behind him. And Sir Mordred gave him his death wound\nbehind him at his back, and all to-hewed him; for one of his squires\ntold me that saw it.\"\n[Illustration: \"_They fought with him on foot more than three hours,\nboth before him and behind him_\"]\n\"Fie upon treason,\" said Sir Tristram, \"for it killeth my heart to hear\nthis tale.\"\n\"So doth it mine,\" said Sir Gareth; \"brethren as they be mine, I shall\nnever love them nor draw me to their fellowship for that deed.\"\n\"Now speak we of other deeds,\" said Sir Palamides, \"and let him be, for\nhis life ye may not get again.\"\n\"That is the more pity,\" said Sir Dinadan, \"for Sir Gawaine and his\nbrethren (except you, Sir Gareth) hate all the good knights of the\nRound Table for the most part; for well I wot, and they might privily,\nthey hate my lord Sir Launcelot and all his kin, and great privy\ndespite they have at him, and that is my lord Sir Launcelot well ware\nof, and that causeth him to have the good knights of his kindred about\nhim.\"\n\"Sir,\" said Palamides, \"let us leave off this matter, and let us see\nhow we shall do at this tournament. By mine advice,\" said Palamides,\n\"let us four hold together against all that will come.\"\n\"Not by my counsel,\" said Sir Tristram, \"for I see by their pavilions\nthere will be four hundred knights, and doubt ye not,\" said Sir\nTristram, \"but there will be many good knights, and be a man never\nso valiant nor so big yet he may be overmatched. And so I have seen\nknights done many times: and when they wend best to have won worship\nthey lost it. For manhood is not worth but if it be meddled [_mingled_]\nwith wisdom: and as for me,\" said Sir Tristram, \"it may happen I shall\nkeep mine own head as well as another.\"\nSo thus they rode until that they came to Humber bank, where they heard\na cry and a doleful noise. Then were they ware in the wind where came\na rich vessel covered over with red silk, and the vessel landed fast\nby them. Therewith Sir Tristram alighted and his knights. And so Sir\nTristram went afore and entered into that vessel. And when he came\nwithin, he saw a fair bed richly covered, and thereupon lay a dead\nseemly knight, all armed, save the head was all bebled, with deadly\nwounds upon him: the which seemed to be a passing good knight.\n\"How may this be,\" said Sir Tristram, \"that this knight is thus slain?\"\nThen Sir Tristram was ware of a letter in the dead knight's hand.\n\"Master mariners,\" said Sir Tristram, \"what meaneth that letter?\"\n\"Sir,\" said they, \"in that letter ye shall hear and know how he was\nslain, and for what cause, and what was his name; but, sir,\" said the\nmariners, \"wit ye well that no man shall take that letter and read it\nbut if he be a good knight, and that he will faithfully promise to\nrevenge his death, else shall there no knight see that letter open.\"\n\"Wit ye well,\" said Sir Tristram, \"that some of us may revenge his\ndeath as well as others; and if it be as ye say it shall be revenged.\"\nAnd therewith Sir Tristram took the letter out of the knight's hand,\nand it said thus: \"Hermance, king and lord of the Red City, I send\nto all knights errant recommendation, and unto you, noble knights of\nKing Arthur's court, I beseech them all among them to find one knight\nthat will fight for my sake with two brethren, that I brought up of\nnought, and feloniously and traitorously they have slain me, wherefore\nI beseech one good knight to revenge my death; and he that revengeth my\ndeath I will that he have my Red City and all my castles.\"\n\"Sir,\" said the mariners, \"wit ye well this king and knight that here\nlieth was a full worshipful man, and of full great prowess, and full\nwell he loved all manner of knights errant.\"\n\"Truly,\" said Sir Tristram, \"here is a piteous case, and full fain I\nwould take this enterprise upon me, but I have made such a promise that\nneeds I must be at this great tournament or else I am shamed. For well\nI wot for my sake in especial my lord Arthur let make this jousts and\ntournament in this country; and well I wot that many worshipful people\nwill be there at that tournament for to see me. Therefore I fear me to\ntake this enterprise upon me, that I shall not come again betimes to\nthis jousts.\"\n\"Sir,\" said Palamides, \"I pray you give me this enterprise, and ye\nshall see me achieve it worshipfully, or else I shall die in this\nquarrel.\"\n\"Well,\" said Sir Tristram, \"and this enterprise I give you, with this\nthat ye be with me at this tournament, that shall be as at this day\nseven night.\"\n\"Sir,\" said Palamides, \"I promise you that I shall be with you by that\nday if I be unslain or unmaimed.\"\nThen departed Sir Tristram, Gareth, and Sir Dinadan, and left Sir\nPalamides in the vessel; and so Sir Tristram beheld the mariners how\nthey sailed along Humber. And when Sir Palamides was out of their\nsight, they took their horses, and beheld about them. And then were\nthey ware of a knight that came riding against them unarmed, and\nnothing about him but a sword. And when this knight came nigh them he\nsaluted them, and they him again.\n\"Fair knights,\" said that knight, \"I pray you insomuch as ye be knights\nerrant, that ye will come and see my castle, and take such as ye find\nthere; I pray you heartily.\"\nAnd so they rode with him into his castle; and there they were brought\nto the hall, that was well apparelled, and so they were unarmed and set\nat a board. And when this knight saw Sir Tristram, anon he knew him;\nand then this knight waxed pale and wroth at Sir Tristram. When Sir\nTristram saw his host make such cheer, he marvelled greatly, and said,\n\"Sir mine host, what cheer make ye?\"\n\"Wit thou well,\" said he, \"I fare much the worse for thee; for I know\nthee well, Sir Tristram de Lyonesse, thou slewest my brother, and\ntherefore I give thee summons that I will slay thee and I may get thee\nat large.\"\n\"Sir knight,\" said Sir Tristram, \"I am not advised that ever I slew\nany brother of yours; and if ye say that I did it, I will make you\namends unto my power.\"\n\"I will none of your amends,\" said the knight, \"but keep thee from me.\"\nSo when he had dined, Sir Tristram asked his arms and departed; and so\nthey rode forth on their way. And within a little while Sir Dinadan saw\nwhere came a knight riding all armed and well horsed without shield.\n\"Sir Tristram,\" said Sir Dinadan, \"take heed to yourself, for I\nundertake that yonder cometh your host that will have to do with you.\"\n\"Let him come,\" said Sir Tristram, \"I shall abide him as well as I may.\"\nAnon that knight when he came nigh Sir Tristram he cried to him, and\nbade him abide and keep him well. So they hurled together, but Sir\nTristram smote the other knight so sore that he bare him to the ground.\nAnd that knight arose lightly, and took his horse again, and so rode\nfiercely to Sir Tristram, and smote him twice full hard upon the helm.\n\"Sir knight,\" said Sir Tristram, \"I pray you to leave off and smite me\nno more, for I would be loth to deal with you and I might choose, for\nI have your meat and your drink within my body.\" For all that he would\nnot leave; and then Sir Tristram gave him such a buffet upon the helm\nthat he tumbled upside down from his horse, that the blood brast out at\nthe ventails of his helm; and there he lay still likely to have died.\nThen Sir Tristram said, \"Me repenteth sore of this buffet that I smote\nso sore, for, as I suppose, he is dead.\"\nAnd so they departed and rode forth on their way. So they had not\nridden but a while but they saw coming against them two full likely\nknights, well armed and horsed, and goodly servants about them. The\none was called the king with the hundred knights, and that other was\nSir Segwarides, which were renowned two noble knights. So as they\ncame either by other, the king looked upon Sir Dinadan, which at that\ntime had Sir Tristram's helm upon his shoulder, which helm the king\nhad seen before with the Queen of Northwales, and that helm the Queen\nof Northwales had given unto la Belle Isolde, and the Queen la Belle\nIsolde gave it unto Sir Tristram.\n\"Sir knight,\" said [the king], \"where had ye that helm?\"\n\"What would ye?\" said Sir Dinadan.\n\"For I will have ado with thee,\" said the king, \"for the love of her\nthat owned that helm, and therefore keep you.\"\nSo they departed and came together with all the mights of their horses;\nand there the king with the hundred knights smote Sir Dinadan, horse\nand all, to the earth; and then he commanded his servant, \"Go and take\nthou his helm off, and keep it.\"\nSo the varlet went to unbuckle his helm.\n\"What helm? What wilt thou do?\" said Sir Tristram; \"leave that helm.\"\n\"To what intent,\" said the king, \"will ye, sir knight, meddle with that\nhelm?\"\n\"Wit you well,\" said Sir Tristram, \"that helm shall not depart from me,\nor it be dearer bought.\"\n\"Then make you ready,\" said [the king] unto Sir Tristram.\nSo they hurtled together, and there Sir Tristram smote him down over\nhis horse's tail. And then the king arose lightly, and gat his horse\nlightly again, and then he struck fiercely at Sir Tristram many great\nstrokes. And then Sir Tristram gave [the king] such a buffet upon the\nhelm that he fell down over his horse, sore stunned.\n\"Lo,\" said Sir Dinadan, \"that helm is unhappy to us twain, for I had a\nfall for it, and now, sir king, have ye another fall.\"\nThen Segwarides asked, \"Who shall joust with me?\"\n\"I pray thee,\" said Sir Gareth unto Dinadan, \"let me have this jousts.\"\n\"Sir,\" said Dinadan, \"I pray you take it as for me.\"\n\"That is no reason,\" said Tristram, \"for this jousts should be yours.\"\n\"At a word,\" said Sir Dinadan, \"I will not thereof.\"\nThen Gareth dressed him to Sir Segwarides, and there Sir Segwarides\nsmote Sir Gareth and his horse to the earth.\n\"Now,\" said Sir Tristram to Dinadan, \"joust with yonder knight.\"\n\"I will not thereof,\" said Dinadan.\n\"Then will I,\" said Sir Tristram.\nAnd then Sir Tristram ran to him and gave him a fall, and so they left\nthem on foot. And Sir Tristram rode unto Joyous Gard, and there Sir\nGareth would not of his courtesy have gone into the castle, but Sir\nTristram would not suffer him to depart; and so they alighted, and\nunarmed them, and had there great cheer. But when Sir Dinadan came\nafore la Belle Isolde, he cursed the time that ever he bare the helm of\nSir Tristram, and there he told her how Sir Tristram had mocked him.\nThen was there good laughing and sport at Sir Dinadan, that they wist\nnot what to do to keep them from laughing.\nNow will we leave them merry within Joyous Gard, and speak we of Sir\nPalamides. Then Sir Palamides sailed even along Humber unto the coast\nof the sea, where was a fair castle, and at that time it was early in\nthe morning afore day. Then the mariners went unto Sir Palamides, that\nwas fast on sleep: \"Sir knight,\" said the mariners, \"ye must arise, for\nhere is a castle into the which ye must go.\"\n\"I assent me thereto,\" said Sir Palamides.\nAnd therewithal he arrived; and then he blew his horn, the which the\nmariners had given him. And when they that were within the castle heard\nthat horn, they put forth many knights, and there they stood upon the\nwalls and said with one voice, \"Welcome be ye to this castle.\" And then\nit waxed clear day, and Sir Palamides entered into the castle. And\nwithin a while he was served with many divers meats. Then Sir Palamides\nheard about him much weeping and great dole. \"What may this mean?\" said\nSir Palamides: \"I love not to hear such a sorrow, and fain I would know\nwhat it meaneth.\"\nThen there came afore him one whose name was Sir Ebel, that said thus,\n\"Wit ye well, sir knight, this dole and sorrow is here made every day,\nand for this cause: we had a king that hight Hermance, and he was King\nof the Red City, and this king that was lord was a noble knight, large\nand liberal of his expense. And in the world he loved nothing so much\nas he did errant knights of King Arthur's court, and all jousting,\nhunting, and all manner of knightly games; for so kind a king and\nknight had never the rule of poor people as he was; and because of his\ngoodness and gentleness we bemoan him and ever shall. And all kings\nand estates may beware by our lord, for he was destroyed in his own\ndefault, for had he cherished them of his blood he had yet lived with\ngreat riches and rest; but all estates may beware of our king. But\nalas,\" said Ebel, \"that we shall give all other warning by his death.\"\n\"Tell me,\" said Palamides, \"in what manner was your lord slain, and by\nwhom?\"\n\"Sir,\" said Sir Ebel, \"our king brought up of children two men that\nnow are perilous knights, and these two knights our king had so in\ncharity, that he loved no man nor trusted no man of his blood, nor\nnone other that was about him. And by these two knights our king was\ngoverned, and so they ruled him peaceably, and his lands, and never\nwould they suffer none of his blood to have no rule with our king. And\nalso he was so free and so gentle, and they so false and deceivable,\nthat they ruled him peaceably; and that espied the lords of our king's\nblood, and departed from him unto their own livelihood. Then when these\ntwo traitors understood that they had driven all the lords of his\nblood from him, they were not pleased with that rule, but then they\nthought to have more, as ever it is an old saw, Give a churl rule, and\nthereby he will not be sufficed; for whatsoever he be that is ruled\nby a villain born, and the lord of the soil to be a gentleman born,\nthe same villain shall destroy all the gentlemen about him; therefore\nall estates and lords beware whom ye take about you. And if ye be a\nknight of King Arthur's court, remember this tale, for this is the end\nand conclusion. My lord and king rode unto the forest by the advice of\nthese false traitors, and there he chased at the red deer, all armed\nof all pieces, full like a good knight; and so for labor he waxed dry,\nand then he alighted and drank at a well. And when he was alighted,\nby the assent of these two false traitors, the one that hight Helius\nsuddenly smote our king through the body with a spear, and so they left\nhim there; and when they were departed, then by fortune I came unto\nthe well and found my lord and king wounded unto the death; and when\nI heard his complaint, I let bring him to the water side, and in that\nsame ship I put him alive. And when my lord King Hermance was in that\nvessel, he required me for the true faith that I owed unto him for to\nwrite a letter in this manner:--\n\"'Recommending unto King Arthur and unto all the knights errant,\nbeseeching them all in so much as I, King Hermance, King of the Red\nCity, thus am slain by felony and treason, through two knights of mine\nown, and of mine own bringing up and of mine own making, that some\nworshipful knight will revenge my death, in so much as I have been ever\nto my power well willing unto King Arthur's court; and who that will\nadventure his life with these two traitors for my sake in one battle,\nI, King Hermance, King of the Red City, freely give all my lands and\ntenements that ever I possessed in all my life.' This letter,\" said\nSir Ebel, \"I wrote by my lord's commandment, and then he received his\nMaker [_took the Holy Communion_]. And when he was dead, he commanded\nme, or ever he were cold, to put this letter fast in his hand; and then\nhe commanded me to put forth that same vessel down Humber, and I should\ngive these mariners in commandment never to stint until that they came\nunto Logris, where all the noble knights shall assemble at this time,\n'and there shall some good knight have pity on me to revenge my death,\nfor there was never king nor lord falselier ne traitorlier slain than I\nam here to my death.'\"\nThus was the complaint of our king Hermance.\n\"Now,\" said Sir Ebel, \"ye know all how our lord was betrayed, we\nrequire you for God's sake have pity upon his death, and worshipfully\nrevenge his death, and then may ye hold all these lands. For we all wit\nwell that, and ye may slay these two traitors, the Red City and all\nthose that be therein will take you for their lord.\"\n\"Truly,\" said Sir Palamides, \"it grieveth my heart for to hear you tell\nthis doleful tale. And to say the truth, I saw the same letter that ye\nspeak of; and one of the best knights on the earth read that letter\nto me, and by his commandment I came hither to revenge your king's\ndeath; and therefore have done, and let me wit where I shall find those\ntraitors, for I shall never be at ease in my heart till that I be in\nhands with them.\"\n\"Sir,\" said Sir Ebel, \"then take your ship again, and that ship must\nbring you unto the Delectable Isle, fast by the Red City, and we in\nthis castle shall pray for you and abide your again-coming; for this\nsame castle, and ye speed well, must needs be yours; for our king\nHermance let make this castle for the love of the two traitors, and so\nwe kept it with strong hand, and therefore full sore are we threated.\"\n\"Wot ye what ye shall do,\" said Sir Palamides; \"whatsoever come of me,\nlook ye keep well this castle. For, and it misfortune me so to be slain\nin this quest, I am sure there will come one of the best knights of the\nworld for to revenge my death, and that is Sir Tristram de Lyonesse, or\nelse Sir Launcelot du Lake.\"\nThen Sir Palamides departed from that castle. And as he came nigh unto\nthe city, there came out of a ship a goodly knight all armed against\nhim, with his shield upon his shoulder, and his hand upon his sword;\nand anon as he came nigh Sir Palamides, he said, \"Sir knight, what seek\nye here in this country? leave this quest, for it is mine, and mine it\nwas or it was yours, and therefore I will have it.\"\n\"Sir knight,\" said Sir Palamides, \"it may well be that this quest\nwas yours or it was mine, but when the letter was taken out of the\ndead king's hand, at that time by likelihood there was no knight had\nundertaken to revenge the death of King Hermance; and so at that time I\npromised to revenge his death, and so I shall, or else I am shamed.\"\n\"Ye say well,\" said the knight, \"but wit ye well then will I fight\nwith you, and he that is the better knight of us both let him take the\nbattle in hand.\"\n\"I assent me,\" said Sir Palamides.\nAnd then they dressed their shields, and drew out their swords, and\nlashed together many a sad stroke, as men of might, and thus they\nfought more than an hour. And at the last Sir Palamides waxed big and\nbetter winded, so that then he smote that knight such a stroke that he\nmade him to kneel upon both his knees. Then that knight spoke on high\nand said, \"Gentle knight, hold thy hand.\"\nSir Palamides was courteous and withdrew his hand.\nThen this knight said, \"Wit ye well, sir knight, that ye be better\nworthy to have this battle than I, and I require thee of thy knighthood\nto tell me thy name.\"\n\"Sir, my name is Sir Palamides, a knight of King Arthur's court and of\nthe Round Table, that hither am come to revenge the death of this dead\nking.\"\n\"Ah, well be ye found,\" said the knight unto Sir Palamides, \"for of all\nknights that be now living (except three) I had lievest have you. The\nfirst is Sir Launcelot du Lake, the second is Sir Tristram de Lyonesse,\nand the third Sir Lamorak de Galis; and I am brother unto King Hermance\nthat is dead, and my name is Sir Hermind.\"\n\"It is well said,\" quoth Sir Palamides, \"and ye shall see how I shall\nspeed; and if I be there slain, go ye unto my lord Sir Launcelot or\nunto my lord Sir Tristram, and pray them to revenge my death, for as\nfor Sir Lamorak, him shall ye never see in this world.\"\n\"Alas,\" said Sir Hermind, \"how may that be?\"\n\"He is slain,\" said Sir Palamides, \"by Sir Gawaine and his brethren.\"\n\"Truly,\" said Hermind, \"there was not one for one that slew him.\"\n\"That is truth,\" said Sir Palamides, \"for they were four dangerous\nknights that slew him, as Sir Gawaine, Sir Agravaine, Sir Gaheris, and\nSir Mordred; but Sir Gareth, the fifth brother, was away, the best\nknight of them all.\"\nAnd so Sir Palamides told Hermind all the manner, and how they slew\nSir Lamorak all only by treason. So Sir Palamides took his ship, and\narrived up at the Delectable Isle. And in the meanwhile Sir Hermind,\nthat was the king's brother, he arrived up at the Red City, and there\nhe told them how there was come a knight of King Arthur's to avenge\nKing Hermance's death; and his name is Sir Palamides the good knight.\nThen all the city made great joy. For mickle had they heard of Sir\nPalamides, and of his noble prowess. So let they ordain a messenger and\nsent unto the two brethren, and bade them to make them ready, for there\nwas a knight come that would fight with them both. So the messenger\nwent unto them where they were at a castle there beside. And there he\ntold them how there was a knight come of King Arthur's court to fight\nwith them both at once.\n\"He is welcome,\" said they. \"But tell us, we pray you, if it be Sir\nLauncelot, or any of his blood.\"\n\"He is none of that blood,\" said the messenger.\n\"Then we care the less,\" said the two brethren, \"for with none of the\nblood of Sir Launcelot we keep not to have to do withal.\"\n\"Wit ye well,\" said the messenger, \"that his name is Sir Palamides,\nthe which is not yet christened, a noble knight.\"\n\"Well,\" said they, \"and if he be now unchristened, he shall never be\nchristened.\"\nSo they appointed for to be at the city within two days. And when Sir\nPalamides was come unto the city, they made passing great joy of him.\nAnd when they beheld him, [they] saw that he was well made, cleanly and\nbigly, and unmaimed of his limbs, and neither too young nor too old,\nand so all the people praised him; and though he was not christened,\nyet he believed in the best manner, and was faithful and true of his\npromise, and also well conditioned; and because he made his avow never\nto take full christendom unto the time that he had done seven battles\nwithin the lists.\nSo within the third day there came to this city these two brethren, the\none hight Sir Helius, and that other hight Sir Helake, the which were\nmen of great prowess, howbeit they were false and full of treason, and\nbut poor men born, yet were they noble knights of their hands.\nAnd with them they brought forty knights, to the intent they should\nbe big enough for the Red City. Thus came the two brethren with great\nbobance [_boasting_] and pride, for they had put the Red City in fear\nand damage. Then they were brought into the lists; and Sir Palamides\ncame into the place, and thus he said, \"Be ye the two brethren, Sir\nHelius and Sir Helake, that slew your king and lord Sir Hermance by\nfelony and treason, for whom I am come hither for to revenge his\ndeath?\"\n\"Wit thou well,\" said Sir Helius and Sir Helake, \"that we are the same\nknights that slew King Hermance. And wit thou well, Sir Palamides,\nSaracen, that we shall handle thee so or thou depart that thou shalt\nwish that thou werest christened.\"\n\"It may well be,\" said Sir Palamides, \"for yet I would not die or I\nwere christened, and yet so am I not afeared of you both, but I trust\nto God that I shall die a better Christian man than any of you both;\nand doubt ye not,\" said Sir Palamides, \"either ye or I shall be left\ndead in this place.\"\nThen they departed, and the two brethren came against Sir Palamides,\nand he against them, as fast as their horses might run. And by fortune\nSir Palamides smote Helake through his shield, and through the breast\nmore than a fathom. All this while Sir Helius held up his spear, and\nfor pride and presumption he would not smite Sir Palamides with his\nspear. But when he saw his brother lie on the earth, and saw he might\nnot help himself, then he said unto Sir Palamides, \"Help thyself\": and\ntherewith he came hurtling unto Sir Palamides with his spear, and smote\nhim quite from his saddle. Then Sir Helius rode over Sir Palamides\ntwice or thrice. And therewith Sir Palamides was ashamed, and gat the\nhorse of Sir Helius by the bridle, and therewithal the horse areared,\nand Sir Palamides helped after, and so they fell both to the earth, but\nanon Sir Helius started up lightly, and there he smote Sir Palamides\na mighty stroke upon the helm, so that he kneeled upon his own knee.\nThen they lashed together many sad strokes, and traced and traversed,\nnow backward, now sideling, hurtling together like two boars, and that\nsame time they fell both grovelling to the earth. Thus they fought\nstill without any reposing two hours, and never breathed, and then Sir\nPalamides waxed faint and weary, and Sir Helius waxed passing strong,\nand doubled his strokes, and drove Sir Palamides overthwart and endlong\nall the field, that they of the city, when they saw Sir Palamides in\nthis case, they wept and cried, and made a sorrowful dole; and that\nother party made great joy. \"Alas,\" said the men of the city, \"that\nthis noble knight should thus be slain for our king's sake!\"\nAnd as they were thus weeping and crying [for] Sir Palamides that had\nendured well an hundred strokes, that it was wonder that he stood upon\nhis feet, at the last Sir Palamides beheld as well as he might the\ncommon people how they wept for him. And then he said unto himself,\n\"Ah, fie for shame, Sir Palamides, wherefore hangest thou thy head so\nlow?\" And therewith he bare up his shield, and looked Sir Helius in\nthe visage, and smote him a great stroke upon the helm, and after that\nanother, and another. And then he smote Sir Helius with such a might,\nthat he fell upon the ground grovelling; and then he started lightly\nto him, and rashed off his helm from his head, and there he smote him\nsuch a buffet that he departed his head from the body. And then were\nthe people of the city the joyfullest people that might be. So they\nbrought him unto his lodging with great solemnity, and there all the\npeople became his men; and then Sir Palamides prayed them all for to\ntake heed unto the lordship of King Hermance. \"For, fair sirs, wit\nye well, I may not at this time abide with you, for I must in all the\nhaste be with my lord King Arthur at the Castle of Lonazep, which I\nhave promised.\"\nSo then were the people full heavy of his departing; for all that city\nproffered Sir Palamides the third part of their goods so that he would\nabide with them; but in no wise at that time he would abide; and so\nSir Palamides departed. And then he came unto the castle whereas Sir\nEbel was lieutenant; and when they that were in the castle knew how Sir\nPalamides had sped, there was a joyful meyny [_household_]. And Sir\nPalamides departed, and came to the Castle of Lonazep. And when he wist\nthat Sir Tristram was not there, he took his way unto Humber, and came\nunto Joyous Gard, whereas Sir Tristram was and la Belle Isolde. So it\nhad been commanded that what knight errant came within the Joyous Gard,\nas in the town, that they should warn Sir Tristram. So there came a man\nof the town, and told Sir Tristram how there was a knight in the town,\na passing goodly man.\n\"What manner of man is he?\" said Sir Tristram, \"and what sign beareth\nhe?\"\nSo the man told Sir Tristram all the tokens of him.\n\"That is Palamides,\" said Dinadan.\n\"It may well be,\" said Sir Tristram: \"go ye to him,\" said Sir Tristram\nunto Dinadan.\nSo Dinadan went unto Sir Palamides, and there either made of other\ngreat joy, and so they lay together that night, and on the morn early\ncame Sir Tristram and Sir Gareth, and took them in their beds, and so\nthey arose and brake their fast.\n[And so, having done many great deeds of arms, after many days it\nhappened that Sir Tristram rode forth for to rescue Sir Palamides, but\nSir Launcelot, in disguise, had already rescued him or [_before_] that\nSir Tristram could come. And then Sir Tristram and Sir Palamides went\nwith the unknown knight to his castle, which was Sir Launcelot's castle\nof Joyous Gard.]\nAnd when they were come within Joyous Gard, they alighted, and their\nhorses were led into a stable, and then they unarmed them. And when\nSir Launcelot had put off his helm, Sir Tristram and Sir Palamides\nknew him. Then Sir Tristram took Sir Launcelot in his arms; and Sir\nPalamides kneeled down upon his knees and thanked Sir Launcelot. When\nSir Launcelot saw Sir Palamides kneel, he lightly took him up, and\nsaid,--\n\"Wit thou well, Sir Palamides, I and any knight in this land of worship\nought of very right succor and rescue so noble a knight as ye are\nproved and renowned throughout all this realm, endlong and overthwart.\"\nThen Sir Launcelot within three or four days departed; and with him\nrode Sir Ector de Maris; and Dinadan and Sir Palamides were there\nleft with Sir Tristram a two months and more. But ever Sir Palamides\nfaded and mourned, that all men had marvel wherefore he faded so away.\nSo upon a day, in the dawning Sir Palamides went into the forest by\nhimself alone, and there he found a well. And therewithal he laid him\ndown by the well. And then he began to make a rhyme of la Belle Isolde\nand him. And in the meanwhile Sir Tristram was that same day ridden\ninto the forest to chase the hart of greese [_the fat hart_]. And so\nas Sir Tristram rode into that forest up and down, he heard one sing\nmarvellously loud; and that was Sir Palamides, that lay by the well.\nAnd then Sir Tristram rode softly thither, for he deemed there was some\nknight errant that was at the well.\nAnd when Sir Tristram came nigh him, he descended down from his horse,\nand tied his horse fast to a tree, and then he came near him on foot.\nAnd anon he was ware where lay Sir Palamides by the well. And ever\nthe complaints were of that noble queen la Belle Isolde, the which\nwas marvellously and wonderfully well made and full dolefully and\npiteously. And all the whole song the noble knight Sir Tristram heard\nfrom the beginning to the ending, the which grieved and troubled him\nsore. But then at last, when Sir Tristram had heard all Sir Palamides'\ncomplaints, he was wroth out of measure, and thought for to slay\nhim there as he lay. Then Sir Tristram remembered himself that Sir\nPalamides was unarmed, and of the noble name that Sir Palamides had,\nand the noble name that himself had, and then he made a restraint of\nhis anger, and so he went unto Sir Palamides a soft pace, and said,--\n\"Sir Palamides, I have heard your complaint, and of thy treason that\nthou hast owed me so long. And wit thou well therefore thou shalt die.\nAnd if it were not for shame of knighthood thou shouldest not escape my\nhands, for now I know well thou hast awaited me with treason. Tell me,\"\nsaid Sir Tristram, \"how thou wilt acquit thee.\"\n\"Sir,\" said Palamides, \"thus I will acquit me: as for queen la Belle\nIsolde, ye shall wit well that I love her above all other ladies of\nthe world; and well I wot it shall befall me as for her love as befell\nto the noble knight Sir Kehidius, that died for the love of la Belle\nIsolde; and now, Sir Tristram, I will that ye wit that I have loved la\nBelle Isolde many a day, and she hath been the causer of my worship.\nAnd else I had been the most simplest knight in the world. For by\nher, and because of her, I have won the worship that I have: for when\nI remembered me of la Belle Isolde, I won the worship wheresoever I\ncame, for the most part; and yet had I never reward nor bounty of her\nthe days of my life, and yet have I been her knight guerdonless; and\ntherefore, Sir Tristram, as for any death I dread not, for I had as\nlief die as to live. And if I were armed as thou art, I should lightly\ndo battle with thee.\"\n\"Well have ye uttered your treason,\" said Sir Tristram.\n\"I have done to you no treason,\" said Sir Palamides, \"for love is free\nfor all men, and though I have loved your lady she is my lady as well\nas yours; and yet shall I love her to the uttermost days of my life as\nwell as ye.\"\n\"Then,\" said Sir Tristram, \"I will fight with you unto the uttermost.\"\n\"I grant,\" said Sir Palamides, \"for in a better quarrel keep I never\nto fight, for and I die of your hands, of a better knight's hands may\nI not be slain. And sithen [_since_] I understand that I shall never\nrejoice the queen la Belle Isolde, I have as good a will to die as to\nlive.\"\n\"Then set ye a day of battle,\" said Sir Tristram.\n\"This day fifteen days,\" said Sir Palamides, \"will I meet with you\nhereby in the meadow under Joyous Gard.\"\n\"Fie for shame!\" said Sir Tristram, \"will ye set so long a day? let us\nfight to-morrow.\"\n\"Not so,\" said Sir Palamides, \"for I am feeble and lean, and have been\nlong sick for the love of la Belle Isolde, and therefore I will rest me\ntill that I have my strength again.\"\nSo then Sir Tristram and Sir Palamides promised faithfully to meet at\nthe well as that day fifteen days.\nRight so departed Sir Tristram and Sir Palamides; and so Sir Palamides\ntook his horse and his harness, and rode unto King Arthur's court, and\nthere Sir Palamides gat him four knights and three sergeants of arms;\nand so he returned again towards Joyous Gard. And in the meanwhile Sir\nTristram chased and hunted at all manner of venery [_game_]; and about\na three days afore that the battle should be, as Sir Tristram chased an\nhart, there was an archer shot at the hart, and by misfortune he smote\nSir Tristram in the thickest of the thigh and wounded him right sore,\nand the arrow slew Sir Tristram's horse; and when Sir Tristram was so\nsore hurt, he was passing heavy, and wit ye well he bled sore. And\nthen he took another horse, and rode unto Joyous Gard with full great\nheaviness.\nThen when the fifteenth day was come, Sir Palamides came to the well\nwith four knights with him of King Arthur's court, and three sergeants\nof arms. And the one sergeant brought his helm, the other his spear,\nand the third his sword. So Sir Palamides came into the field, and\nthere he abode nigh two hours, and then he sent a squire unto Sir\nTristram, and desired him to come into the field for to hold his\npromise. When the squire was come to Joyous Gard, and that Sir Tristram\nheard of his coming, he commanded that the squire should come to his\npresence there as he lay in his bed.\n\"My lord Sir Tristram,\" said Palamides' squire, \"wit you well, my lord\nPalamides abideth you in the field, and he would wit whether ye would\ndo battle or not.\"\n\"Ah, my fair brother,\" said Sir Tristram, \"wit thou well that I am\nright heavy for these tidings, therefore tell Sir Palamides and I were\nwell at ease I would not lie here, nor he should have no need to send\nfor me, and I might either ride or go: and for thou shalt say that I\nam no liar,\" Sir Tristram showed him his thigh, that the wound was six\ninches deep:--\"and now thou hast seen my hurt, tell thy lord that this\nis no feigned matter; and tell him that I had liever than all the gold\nof King Arthur that I were whole; and tell Sir Palamides, as soon as I\nam whole I shall seek him endlong and overthwart, and that I promise\nyou as I am true knight; and if ever I may meet with him he shall have\nbattle of me his fill.\"\nAnd with this the squire departed. And then departed Sir Palamides\nwhere as fortune led him. And within a month Sir Tristram was whole of\nhis hurt. And then he took his horse, and rode from country to country,\nand all strange adventures he achieved wheresoever he rode, and always\nhe inquired for Sir Palamides.\n[When Sir Tristram was returned, he heard how there should be a great\nfeast at King Arthur's court on the Pentecost next following. And so\nwhen that day was nigh Sir Tristram set forth unarmed towards Camelot.]\nAnd within a mile after, Sir Tristram saw before him where Sir\nPalamides had stricken down a knight, and had almost wounded him to\ndeath. Then Sir Tristram repented him that he was not armed, and then\nhe hoved still. With that Sir Palamides knew Sir Tristram, and cried on\nhigh: \"Sir Tristram, now be we met, for or we depart we will redress\nour old sores.\"\n\"As for that,\" said Sir Tristram, \"there was never yet Christian man\nthat might make his boast that ever I fled from him, and wit thou well,\nSir Palamides, thou that art a Saracen shall never make thy boast that\nSir Tristram de Lyonesse shall flee from thee.\"\nAnd therewithal Sir Tristram made his horse to run with all his might,\ncame he straight upon Sir Palamides, and brake his spear upon him in\nan hundred pieces, and forthwith Sir Tristram drew his sword, and then\nhe turned his horse and struck at Sir Palamides six great strokes upon\nhis helm. And then Sir Palamides stood still, and beheld Sir Tristram,\nand marvelled of his woodness and of his great folly; and then Sir\nPalamides said to himself, \"And Sir Tristram were armed it were hard to\ncease him of this battle, and if I turn again and slay him I am shamed\nwheresoever that I go.\"\nThen Sir Tristram spake and said, \"Thou coward knight, what castest\nthou to do? why wilt thou not do battle with me, for have thou no doubt\nI shall endure all thy malice.\"\n\"Ah, Sir Tristram,\" said Sir Palamides, \"full well thou wottest I may\nnot fight with thee for shame, for thou art here naked, and I am\narmed, and if I slay thee dishonor shall be mine. And well thou wottest\nI know thy strength and thy hardiness to endure against a good knight.\"\n\"That is truth,\" said Sir Tristram, \"I understand thy valiantness well.\"\n\"Ye say well,\" said Sir Palamides, \"now I require you tell me a\nquestion that I shall say to you.\"\n\"Tell me what it is,\" said Sir Tristram, \"and I shall answer you the\ntruth.\"\n\"I put the case,\" said Sir Palamides, \"that ye were armed at all rights\nas well as I am, and I naked as ye be, what would ye do to me now by\nyour true knighthood?\"\n\"Ah,\" said Sir Tristram, \"now I understand thee well, Sir Palamides,\nfor now must I say my own judgment, and, as God me bless, that I shall\nsay shall not be said for no fear that I have of thee. But this is all;\nwit, Sir Palamides, as at this time thou shouldest depart from me, for\nI would not have ado with thee.\"\n\"No more will I,\" said Sir Palamides, \"and therefore ride forth on thy\nway.\"\n\"As for that I may choose,\" said Sir Tristram, \"either to ride or to\nabide. But Sir Palamides,\" said Sir Tristram, \"I marvel of one thing,\nthat thou that art so good a knight, that thou will not be christened,\nand thy brother Sir Safere hath been christened many a day.\"\n\"As for that,\" said Sir Palamides, \"I may not yet be christened for one\navow that I have made many years agone; howbeit in my heart I believe\nin Jesus Christ and his mild mother Mary; but I have but one battle to\ndo, and when that is done I will be baptized with a good will.\"\n\"By my head,\" said Sir Tristram, \"as for one battle thou shalt not\nseek it no longer. For God defend,\" said Sir Tristram, \"that through\nmy default thou shouldest longer live thus a Saracen. For yonder is a\nknight that ye, Sir Palamides, have hurt and smitten down; now help me\nthat I were armed in his armor, and I shall soon fulfil thine avows.\"\n\"As ye will,\" said Sir Palamides, \"so it shall be.\"\nSo they rode unto that knight that sat upon a bank, and then Sir\nTristram saluted him, and he weakly saluted him again.\n\"Sir knight,\" said Sir Tristram, \"I require you tell me your right\nname.\"\n\"Sir,\" he said, \"my name is Sir Galleron of Galway, and knight of the\nTable Round.\"\n\"Truly,\" said Sir Tristram, \"I am right heavy of your hurts: but this\nis all, I must pray you to lend me all your whole armor, for ye see I\nam unarmed, and I must do battle with this knight.\"\n\"Sir,\" said the hurt knight, \"ye shall have it with a good will; but ye\nmust beware, for I warn you that knight is wight [_strong_]. Sir,\" said\nGalleron, \"I pray you tell me your name, and what is that knight's name\nthat hath beaten me.\"\n\"Sir, as for my name, it is Sir Tristram de Lyonesse, and as for the\nknight's name that hath hurt you, it is Sir Palamides, brother unto the\ngood knight Sir Safere, and yet is Sir Palamides unchristened.\"\n\"Alas,\" said Sir Galleron, \"that is pity that so good a knight and so\nnoble a man of arms should be unchristened.\"\n\"Truly,\" said Sir Tristram, \"either he shall slay me, or I him, but\nthat he shall be christened or ever we depart in sunder.\"\n\"My lord Sir Tristram,\" said Sir Galleron, \"your renown and worship is\nwell known through many realms and God save you this day from shame.\"\nThen Sir Tristram unarmed Galleron, the which was a noble knight and\nhad done many deeds of arms, and he was a large knight of flesh and\nbone. And when he was unarmed he stood upon his feet, for he was\nbruised in the back with a spear; yet, so as Sir Galleron might,\nhe armed Sir Tristram. And then Sir Tristram mounted upon his own\nhorse, and in his hand he gat Sir Galleron's spear. And therewithal\nSir Palamides was ready, and so they came hurtling together, and\neither smote other in the midst of their shields, and therewithal Sir\nPalamides' spear brake, and Sir Tristram smote down the horse; and then\nSir Palamides, as soon as he might, avoided his horse, and dressed his\nshield, and pulled out his sword. That saw Sir Tristram, and therewith\nhe alighted, and tied his horse to a tree.\nAnd then they came together as two wild boars, lashing together,\ntracing and traversing as noble men that oft had been well proved in\nbattle; but ever Sir Palamides dreaded the might of Sir Tristram, and\ntherefore he suffered him to breathe him. Thus they fought more than\ntwo hours; and often Sir Tristram smote such strokes at Sir Palamides\nthat he made him to kneel; and Sir Palamides brake and cut away many\npieces of Sir Tristram's shield, and then Sir Palamides wounded Sir\nTristram, for he was a well fighting man. Then Sir Tristram was wood\nwrath out of measure, and rashed upon Sir Palamides with such a might\nthat Sir Palamides fell grovelling to the earth, and therewithal he\nleapt up lightly upon his feet, and then Sir Tristram wounded Sir\nPalamides sore through the shoulder. And ever Sir Tristram fought\nstill in like hard, and Sir Palamides failed not, but gave him many\nsad strokes. And at the last Sir Tristram doubled his strokes, and by\nfortune Sir Tristram smote Sir Palamides' sword out of his hand, and if\nSir Palamides had stooped for his sword, he had been slain. Then Sir\nPalamides stood still and beheld his sword with a sorrowful heart.\n\"How now,\" said Sir Tristram unto Sir Palamides, \"now have I thee at\nadvantage as thou hadst me this day, but it shall never be said in no\ncourt, nor among good knights, that Sir Tristram shall slay any knight\nthat is weaponless, and therefore take thou thy sword, and let us make\nan end of this battle.\"\n\"As for to do this battle,\" said Sir Palamides, \"I dare right well end\nit; but I have no great lust to fight no more, and for this cause, mine\noffence to you is not so great but that we may be friends. All that I\nhave offended is and was for the love of la Belle Isolde. And as for\nher, I dare say she is peerless above all other ladies, and also I\nproffered her never no dishonor; and by her I have gotten the most part\nof my worship, and sithen I offended never as to her own person. And\nas for the offence that I have done, it was against your own person,\nand for that offence ye have given me this day many sad strokes, and\nsome I have given you again; and now I dare say I felt never man of\nyour might, nor so well breathed, but if it were Sir Launcelot du Lake.\nWherefore I require you, my lord, forgive me all that I have offended\nunto you. And this same day have me to the next church, and first let\nme be clean confessed, and after see you now that I be truly baptized.\nAnd then will we all ride together unto the court of Arthur, that we be\nthere at the high feast.\"\n\"Now take your horse,\" said Sir Tristram, \"and as ye say, so it shall\nbe; and all your evil will God forgive it you, and I do. And here,\nwithin this mile, is the suffragan of Carlisle, that shall give you the\nsacrament of baptism.\"\nThen they took their horses, and Sir Galleron rode with them. And when\nthey came to the suffragan Sir Tristram told him their desire. Then the\nsuffragan let fill a great vessel with water. And when he had hallowed\nit, he then confessed clean Sir Palamides, and Sir Tristram and Sir\nGalleron were his god-fathers. And then soon after they departed,\nriding towards Camelot, where King Arthur and Queen Guenever was, and\nfor the most part all the knights of the Round Table. And so the king\nand all the court were glad that Sir Palamides was christened. And Sir\nTristram returned again towards Joyous Gard.\n[And so, after years, and many mighty deeds of arms, the] traitor King\nMark slew the noble knight Sir Tristram as he sat harping before his\nlady la Belle Isolde, with a trenchant glaive; for whose death was much\nbewailing of every knight in Arthur's days. And la Belle Isolde died\nswooning upon the corpse of Sir Tristram, whereof was great pity. And\nall that were with King Mark consenting to the death of Sir Tristram\nwere slain.\n[Illustration: _King Mark slew the noble knight Sir Tristram as he sat\nharping before his lady la Belle Isolde_]\n OF SIR GALAHAD AND SIR PERCIVAL AND THE QUEST OF THE HOLY GRAIL\nAt the vigil of Pentecost, when all the fellowship of the Round Table\nwere come unto Camelot, and there they all heard their service, and\nall the tables were covered, ready to set thereon the meat, right\nso entered into the hall a full fair gentlewoman on horseback, that\nhad ridden full fast, for her horse was all to-besweat; [and she\nbesought Sir Launcelot that he would come forth with her into the\nforest for to dub a knight.] Right so departed Sir Launcelot with the\ngentlewoman, and rode till they came into a forest, and into a great\nvalley, where he saw an abbey of nuns; and there was a squire ready to\nopen the gates. And so there came in twelve nuns, which brought with\nthem Galahad, the which was passing fair and well made, that unneth\n[_hardly_] men in the world might not find his match; and all those\nladies wept.\n\"Sir,\" said the ladies, \"we bring here this child, the which we have\nnourished, and we pray you for to make him a knight; for of a more\nworthier man's hand may he not receive the order of knighthood.\"\nSir Launcelot beheld that young squire, and saw he was seemly and\ndemure as a dove, with all manner of good features, that he wend of\nhis age never to have seen so fair a man of form.\nThen said Sir Launcelot, \"Cometh this desire of himself?\"\nHe and all they said, \"Yea.\"\n\"Then shall he,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"receive the high order of\nknighthood as to-morrow at the reverence of the high feast.\"\nThat night Sir Launcelot had passing good cheer, and on the morrow\nat the hour of prime, at Galahad's desire, he made him knight; and\nsaid, \"God make him a good man, for beauty faileth him not as any that\nliveth.\"\nSo when the king and all the knights were come from service, the barons\nespied in the sieges of the Round Table, all about written with gold\nletters: \"Here ought to sit\" he, and he \"ought to sit here.\" And thus\nthey went so long until that they came to the Siege Perilous, where\nthey found letters newly written of gold, that said: \"Four hundred\nwinters and fifty-four accomplished after the passion of our Lord Jesu\nChrist ought this siege to be fulfilled.\"\nThen all they said, \"This is a marvellous thing, and an adventurous.\"\n\"In the name of God,\" said Sir Launcelot; and then he accounted the\nterm of the writing, from the birth of our Lord unto that day.\n\"It seemeth me,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"this siege ought to be fulfilled\nthis same day, for this is the feast of Pentecost after the four\nhundred and four and fifty year; and if it would please all parties, I\nwould none of these letters were seen this day, till he be come that\nought to achieve this adventure.\"\nThen made they to ordain a cloth of silk for to cover these letters in\nthe Siege Perilous. Then the king bade haste unto dinner.\n\"Sir,\" said Sir Kay the steward, \"if ye go now unto your meat, ye shall\nbreak your old custom of your court. For ye have not used on this day\nto sit at your meat or that ye have seen some adventure.\"\n\"Ye say sooth,\" said the king, \"but I had so great joy of Sir Launcelot\nand of his cousins, which be come to the court whole and sound, that I\nbethought me not of my old custom.\"\nSo as they stood speaking, in came a squire, and said unto the king,\n\"Sir, I bring unto you marvellous tidings.\"\n\"What be they?\" said the king.\n\"Sir, there is here beneath at the river a great stone, which I saw\nfleet [_float_] above the water, and therein saw I sticking a sword.\"\nThe king said, \"I will see that marvel.\"\nSo all the knights went with him, and when they came unto the river,\nthey found there a stone fleeting, as it were of red marble, and\ntherein stuck a fair and a rich sword, and in the pommel thereof were\nprecious stones, wrought with subtle letters of gold. Then the barons\nread the letters, which said in this wise: \"Never shall man take me\nhence, but only he by whom I ought to hang, and he shall be the best\nknight of the world.\"\nWhen the king had seen these letters, he said unto Sir\nLauncelot, \"Fair sir, this sword ought to be yours, for I am sure that\nye be the best knight of the world.\"\nThen Sir Launcelot answered soberly, \"Certainly, sir, it is not my\nsword. Also, sir, wit ye well I have no hardiness to set my hand to it,\nfor it belongeth not to hang by my side. Also, who assayeth for to take\nthat sword, and faileth of it, he shall receive a wound by that sword\nthat he shall not be whole long after. And I will that ye wit that this\nsame day will the adventures of the Sancgreal (that is called the holy\nvessel) begin.\"\nSo when they were served, and all the sieges fulfilled save only the\nSiege Perilous, anon there befell a marvellous adventure, that all\nthe doors and the windows of the palace shut by themselves, but for\nall that the hall was not greatly darked, and therewith they were all\nabashed both one and other. Then King Arthur spake first, and said,\n\"Fair fellows and lords, we have seen this day marvels, but or night I\nsuppose we shall see greater marvels.\"\nIn the meanwhile came in a good old man and an ancient, clothed all\nin white; and there was no knight that knew from whence he came. And\nwith him he brought a young knight, both on foot, in red arms, without\nsword or shield, save a scabbard hanging by his side; and these words\nhe said, \"Peace be with you, fair lords.\" Then the old man said unto\nKing Arthur, \"Sir, I bring you here a young knight that is of king's\nlineage, and of the kindred of Joseph of Arimathea, whereby the marvels\nof this court and of strange realms shall be fully accomplished.\"\nThe king was right glad of his words, and said unto the good man, \"Sir,\nye be right heartily welcome, and the young knight with you.\"\nThen the old man made the young knight to unarm him; and he was in\na coat of red sendall, and bare a mantle upon his shoulder that was\nfurred with fine ermines, and put that upon him. And the old man said\nunto the young knight, \"Sir, follow after.\"\nAnd anon he led him unto the Siege Perilous, where beside sat Sir\nLauncelot; and the good man lifted up the cloth, and found there\nletters that said thus: \"This is the siege of Galahad the haut [_high_]\nprince.\"\nThen all the knights of the Table Round marvelled them greatly of Sir\nGalahad, that he durst sit there in that Siege Perilous, and was so\ntender of age, and wist not from whence he came, but all only by God,\nand said, This is he by whom the Sancgreal shall be achieved, for there\nsat never none but he, but he were mischieved. Then Sir Launcelot\nbeheld his son, and had great joy of him.\nThen came King Arthur unto Sir Galahad, and said, \"Sir, ye be welcome,\nfor ye shall move many good knights unto the quest of the Sancgreal,\nand ye shall achieve that never knight might bring to an end.\"\nThen the king took him by the hand, and went down from the palace to\nshow Sir Galahad the adventure of the stone.\nThe queen heard thereof, and came after with many ladies, and showed\nthem the stone where it hoved on the water. \"Sir,\" said the king unto\nSir Galahad, \"here is a great marvel as ever I saw, and right good\nknights have assayed and failed.\"\n\"Sir,\" said Galahad, \"that is no marvel, for this adventure is not\ntheirs, but mine, and for the surety of this sword I brought none with\nme; for here by my side hangeth the scabbard.\"\nAnd anon he laid his hand on the sword, and lightly drew it out of the\nstone, and put it in the sheath, and said unto the king, \"Now it goeth\nbetter than it did aforehand.\"\n\"Sir,\" said the king, \"a shield God shall send you.\"\n\"Now have I,\" said Sir Galahad, \"that sword that sometime was the good\nknight's Balin le Savage, and he was a passing good man of his hands.\nAnd with this sword he slew his brother Balan, and that was great pity,\nfor he was a good knight, and either slew other through a dolorous\nstroke that Balan gave unto my grandfather King Pelles, the which is\nnot yet whole, nor not shall be till I heal him.\"\nTherewith the king and all espied where came riding down the river a\nlady on a white palfrey towards them. Then she saluted the king and the\nqueen, and asked if that Sir Launcelot was there? And then he answered\nhimself, \"I am here, fair lady.\"\nThen she said, all with weeping, \"How your great doing is changed sith\nthis day in the morn.\"\n\"Damsel, why say ye so?\" said Launcelot.\n\"I say you sooth,\" said the damsel, \"for ye were this day the best\nknight of the world, but who should say so now should be a liar,\nfor there is now one better than ye. And well it is proved by the\nadventures of the sword whereto ye durst not set your hand, and that\nis in remembrance, that ye shall not ween from henceforth that ye be\nthe best knight of the world.\"\n\"As touching that,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"I know well I was never the\nbest.\"\n\"Yes,\" said the damsel, \"that were ye, and yet are of any sinful man\nof the world; and, sir king, Nacien the hermit sendeth thee word that\nto thee shall befall the greatest worship that ever befell king in\nBritain, and I shall tell you wherefore, for this day the Sancgreal\nappeared in this thy house, and fed thee and all thy fellowship of the\nRound Table.\"\nAnd so the damsel took her leave, and departed the same way that she\ncame.\nThen the king [caused that Queen Guenever should see Sir Galahad] in\nthe visage; and when she beheld him she said, \"Soothly I dare well say\nthat he is Sir Launcelot's son, for never two men resembled more in\nlikeness, therefore it is no marvel though he be of great prowess.\"\nSo a lady that stood by the queen said: \"Madam, for God's sake, ought\nhe of right to be so good a knight?\"\n\"Yea, forsooth,\" said the queen, \"for he is of all parties come of\nthe best knights of the world, and of the highest lineage, for Sir\nLauncelot is come but of the eighth degree from our Lord Jesu Christ,\nand Sir Galahad is of the ninth degree from our Lord Jesu Christ,\ntherefore I dare well say that they be the greatest gentlemen of all\nthe world.\"\nAnd then the king and all the estates went home unto Camelot, and so\nwent to even-song to the great minster; and so after that they went to\nsupper, and every knight sat in their place as they were beforehand.\nThen anon they heard cracking and crying of thunder, that them thought\nthe place should all to-rive [_burst_]; in the midst of the blast\nentered a sunbeam more clear by seven times than ever they saw day,\nand all they were alighted of the grace of the Holy Ghost. Then began\nevery knight to behold other, and either saw other by their seeming\nfairer than ever they saw afore, [and] there was no knight that might\nspeak one word a great while, and so they looked every man on other,\nas they had been dumb. Then there entered into the hall the Holy Grail\ncovered with white samite, but there was none might see it, nor who\nbare it. And there was all the hall full filled with good odors, and\nevery knight had such meats and drinks as he best loved in this world;\nand when the Holy Grail had been borne through the hall, then the holy\nvessel departed suddenly, that they wist not where it became. Then had\nthey all breath to speak. And then the king yielded thankings unto God\nof His good grace that He had sent them.\n\"Now,\" said Sir Gawaine, \"we have been served this day of what meats\nand drinks we thought on, but one thing beguiled us, we might not see\nthe Holy Grail, it was so preciously covered: wherefore I will make\nhere avow, that to-morn, without longer abiding, I shall labor in the\nquest of the Sancgreal, that I shall hold me out a twelvemonth and a\nday, or more if need be, and never shall I return again unto the court\ntill I have seen it more openly than it hath been seen here: and if I\nmay not speed, I shall return again as he that may not be against the\nwill of our Lord Jesu Christ.\"\nWhen they of the Table Round heard Sir Gawaine say so, they arose up\nthe most part, and made such avows as Sir Gawaine had made.\nAnon as King Arthur heard this he was greatly displeased, for he wist\nwell that they might not gainsay their avows.\n\"Alas!\" said King Arthur unto Sir Gawaine, \"ye have nigh slain me with\nthe avow and promise that ye have made. For through you ye have bereft\nme of the fairest fellowship and the truest of knighthood that ever\nwere seen together in any realm of the world. For when they depart from\nhence, I am sure they all shall never meet more in this world, for they\nshall die many in the quest. And so it forethinketh [_repenteth_] me a\nlittle, for I have loved them as well as my life, wherefore it shall\ngrieve me right sore the departing of this fellowship. For I have had\nan old custom to have them in my fellowship.\"\nAnd therewith the tears fell into his eyes, and he said: \"Sir Gawaine,\nSir Gawaine, ye have set me in great sorrow, for I have great doubt\nthat my true fellowship shall never meet more here again.\"\nWhen the queen, ladies, and gentlewomen wist these tidings, they had\nsuch sorrow and heaviness that no tongue might tell it, for those\nknights had holden them in honor and charity, but among all other,\nQueen Guenever made great sorrow. \"I marvel,\" said she, \"my lord will\nsuffer them to depart from him.\" Thus was all the court troubled,\nbecause those knights should depart.\nAfter this the queen came unto Sir Galahad, and asked him of whence he\nwas, and of what country; he told her of whence he was, and son unto\nSir Launcelot she said he was.\nAnd then they went to rest them; and in the honor of the highness of\nSir Galahad he was led into King Arthur's chamber, and there he rested\nhim in his own bed; and as soon as it was daylight the king arose, for\nhe had taken no rest of all that night for sorrow.\nSo anon Sir Launcelot and Sir Gawaine commanded their men to bring\ntheir arms; and when they [were all armed, then the king would know\nhow many they were, and they found by tale [_count_] that they were an\nhundred and fifty, and all knights of the Round Table.]\nAnd so they mounted their horses, and rode through the streets of\nCamelot, and there was weeping of the rich and poor, and the king\nturned away and might not speak for weeping.\nSo within a while they came to a city and a castle that hight [_was\nnamed_] Vagon; there they entered into the castle, and the lord of that\ncastle was an old man that hight Vagon, and he was a good man of his\nliving, and set open the gates, and made them all the good cheer that\nhe might.\nAnd then they departed on the morrow with weeping and mourning cheer,\nand every knight took the way that him best liked.\nNow rideth Sir Galahad yet without shield; and so he rode four days\nwithout any adventure, and at the fourth day after even-song he came\nto a white abbey, and there he was received with great reverence, and\nled to a chamber; and there he was unarmed, and then was he ware of two\nknights of the Round Table, one was King Bagdemagus, and that other was\nSir Uwaine. And when they saw him, they went unto him and made of him\ngreat solace, and so they went to supper.\n\"Sirs,\" said Sir Galahad, \"what adventure brought you hither?\"\n\"Sir,\" said they, \"it is told us that within this place is a shield\nthat no man may bear about his neck but if that he be mischieved or\ndead within three days, or else maimed forever.\"\n\"Ah, sir,\" said King Bagdemagus, \"I shall bear it to-morrow for to\nassay this strange adventure.\"\n\"In the name of God,\" said Sir Galahad.\n\"Sir,\" said King Bagdemagus, \"and I may not achieve the adventure of\nthis shield, ye shall take it upon you, for I am sure ye shall not\nfail.\"\n\"Sir,\" said Sir Galahad, \"I agree right well thereto, for I have no\nshield.\"\nSo on the morrow they arose and heard mass. Then King Bagdemagus asked\nwhere the adventurous shield was; anon a monk led him behind an altar,\nwhere the shield hung as white as any snow, but in the midst was a red\ncross.\n\"Sir,\" said the monk, \"this shield ought not to be hanged about no\nknight's neck, but he be the worthiest knight of the world, and\ntherefore I counsel you knights to be well advised.\"\n\"Well,\" said King Bagdemagus, \"I wot well that I am not the best knight\nof the world, but yet shall I assay to bear it.\"\nAnd so he bare it out of the monastery; and then he said unto Sir\nGalahad, \"If it will please you, I pray you abide here still, till ye\nknow how I shall speed.\"\n\"I shall abide you here,\" said Galahad.\nThen King Bagdemagus took with him a squire, the which should bring\ntidings unto Sir Galahad how he sped. Then when they had ridden a two\nmile, and came in a fair valley afore an hermitage, then they saw a\ngoodly knight come from that part in white armor, horse and all, and\nhe came as fast as his horse might run with his spear in the rest, and\nKing Bagdemagus dressed his spear against him, and brake it upon the\nwhite knight; but the other struck him so hard that he brake the mails,\nand thrust him through the right shoulder, for the shield covered him\nnot as at that time, and so he bare him from his horse, and therewith\nhe alighted and took the white shield from him, saying, \"Knight, thou\nhast done thyself great folly, for this shield ought not to be borne\nbut by him that shall have no peer that liveth.\"\nAnd then he came to King Bagdemagus' squire and said, \"Bear this shield\nunto the good knight Sir Galahad, that thou left in the abbey, and\ngreet him well from me.\"\nAnd the squire went unto Bagdemagus and asked him whether he were sore\nwounded or not?\n\"Yea, forsooth,\" said he, \"I shall escape hard from the death.\"\nThen he fetched his horse, and brought him with great pain unto an\nabbey. Then was he taken down softly, and unarmed, and laid in a bed,\nand there was looked to his wounds. And he lay there long, and escaped\nhard with the life.\n\"Sir Galahad,\" said the squire, \"that knight that wounded Bagdemagus\nsendeth you greeting, and bade that ye should bear this shield,\nwherethrough great adventures should befall.\"\n\"Now blessed be God and fortune,\" said Sir Galahad.\nAnd then he asked his arms, and mounted upon his horse, and hung the\nwhite shield about his neck, and commended them unto God. And Sir\nUwaine said he would bear him fellowship, if it pleased him.\n\"Sir,\" said Sir Galahad, \"that may ye not, for I must go alone, save\nthis squire that shall bear me fellowship.\" And so departed Sir Uwaine.\nThen within a while came Sir Galahad there as the white knight abode\nhim by the hermitage, and every each saluted other courteously.\n\"Sir,\" said Sir Galahad, \"by this shield been fall many marvels.\"\n\"Sir,\" said the knight, \"it befell, after the passion of our Lord\nJesu Christ thirty year, that Joseph of Arimathea, the gentle knight\nthat took down our Lord from the cross, at that time he departed from\nJerusalem with a great part of his kindred with him, and so they\nlabored till they came to a city that hight Sarras. And at that same\nhour that Joseph came unto Sarras, there was a king that hight Evelake,\nthat had great war against the Saracens, and in especial against one\nSaracen, the which was King Evelake's cousin, a rich king and a mighty,\nthe which marched nigh this land, and his name was called Tollome le\nFeintes. So upon a day these two met to do battle. Then Joseph, the\nson of Joseph of Arimathea, went unto King Evelake, and told him that\nhe would be discomfited and slain but if he left his believe of the\nold law and believe upon the new law. And then he showed him the right\nbelieve of the Holy Trinity, the which he agreed with all his heart,\nand there this shield was made for King Evelake, in the name of Him\nthat died upon the cross; and then through his good believe he had the\nbetter of King Tollome. For when King Evelake was in the battle, there\nwas a cloth set afore the shield, and when he was in the greatest peril\nhe let put away the cloth, and then anon his enemies saw a figure of\na man upon the cross, wherethrough they were discomfited. And so it\nbefell that a man of King Evelake's had his hand smitten off, and bare\nhis hand in his other hand, and Joseph called that man unto him, and\nbade him go with good devotion and touch the cross; and as soon as that\nman had touched the cross with his hand it was as whole as ever it was\nbefore. Not long after that, Joseph was laid in his death bed, and when\nKing Evelake saw that, he made great sorrow, and said: 'For thy love I\nhave left my country, and sith [_since_] thou shalt out of this world,\nleave me some token that I may think on thee.' 'That will I do right\ngladly,' said Joseph. 'Now bring me the shield that I took you when ye\nwent into the battle against King Tollome.' Then Joseph bled sore that\nhe might not by no means be stanched, and there upon that same shield\nhe made a cross of his own blood. 'Now ye shall never see this shield\nbut that ye shall think on me, and it shall be always as fresh as it\nis now, and never shall no man bear this shield about his neck but he\nshall repent it, unto the time that Galahad the good knight bear it,\nand the last of my lineage shall have it about his neck, that shall do\nmany marvellous deeds.' 'Now,' said King Evelake, 'where shall I put\nthis shield, that this worthy knight may have it?' 'Ye shall leave it\nthere as Nacien the hermit shall be put after his death. For thither\nshall that good knight come the fifteenth day after that he shall\nreceive the order of knighthood. And so that day that they set is this\ntime that ye have his shield. And in the same abbey lieth Nacien the\nhermit.'\"\nAnd then the white knight vanished away. Anon, as the squire had heard\nthese words, he alighted off his hackney, and kneeled down at Galahad's\nfeet, and prayed him that he might go with him till he had made him\nknight. So Sir Galahad granted him, and turned again unto the abbey\nthere they came from. And there men made great joy of Sir Galahad.\nThen as Sir Galahad heard this, he thanked God, and took his horse,\nand he had not ridden but half a mile, he saw in a valley before him\na strong castle with deep ditches, and there ran beside a fair river,\nthe which hight Sevarne; and there he met with a man of great age, and\neither saluted other, and Sir Galahad asked him what was the castle's\nname.\n\"Fair sir,\" said he, \"it is the Castle of Maidens.\"\n\"That is a cursed castle,\" said Sir Galahad, \"and all they that been\nconversant therein, for all pity is out thereof, and all hardiness and\nmischief is therein.\"\n\"Therefore I counsel you, sir knight,\" said the old man, \"to return\nagain.\"\n\"Sir,\" said Sir Galahad, \"wit ye well I shall not return again.\"\nThen looked Sir Galahad on his armor that nothing failed him, and then\nhe put his shield afore him; and anon there met him seven maidens, that\nsaid unto him, \"Sir knight, ye ride here in a great folly, for ye have\nthe waters for to pass over.\"\n\"Why should I not pass the water?\" said Sir Galahad.\nSo rode he away from them, and met with a squire that said, \"Knight,\nthose knights in the castle defy you, and forbid you ye go no further\ntill that they wit what ye would.\"\n\"Fair sir,\" said Galahad, \"I come for to destroy the wicked custom of\nthis castle.\"\n\"Sir, and ye will abide by that, ye shall have enough to do.\"\n\"Go you now,\" said Galahad, \"and haste my needs.\"\nThen the squire entered into the castle. And anon after there came out\nof the castle seven knights, and all were brethren. And when they saw\nGalahad, they cried, \"Knight, keep thee, for we assure thee nothing but\ndeath.\"\n\"Why,\" said Galahad, \"will ye all have ado with me at once?\"\n\"Yea,\" said they, \"thereto mayest thou trust.\"\nThen Galahad put forth his spear, and smote the foremost to the earth,\nthat near he brake his neck. And therewith all the other smote him on\nhis shield great strokes, so that their spears brake. Then Sir Galahad\ndrew out his sword, and set upon them so hard that it was marvel to see\nit, and so, through great force, he made them to forsake the field; and\nGalahad chased them till they entered into the castle, and so passed\nthrough the castle at another gate. And there met Sir Galahad an old\nman clothed in religious clothing, and said, \"Sir, have here the keys\nof this castle.\"\nThen Sir Galahad opened the gates, and saw so much people in the\nstreets that he might not number them, and all said, \"Sir, ye be\nwelcome, for long have we abiden here our deliverance.\"\nThen came to him a gentlewoman, and said, \"These knights be fled, but\nthey will come again this night, and here to begin again their evil\ncustom.\"\n\"What will ye that I shall do?\" said Galahad.\n\"Sir,\" said the gentlewoman, \"that ye send after all the knights hither\nthat hold their lands of this castle, and make them to swear for to use\nthe customs that were used heretofore of old time.\"\n\"I will well,\" said Galahad.\nAnd there she brought him an horn of ivory, bounden with gold, and\nsaid, \"Sir, blow ye this horn, which will be heard two mile about this\ncastle.\"\nAnd when Sir Galahad had blown the horn, he set him down upon a bed.\nThen came there a priest unto Sir Galahad, and said, \"Sir, it is\npast a seven year that these seven brethren came into this castle,\nand herborowed [_harbored_] with the lord of this castle, which hight\nthe duke Lianour; and he was lord of all this country. And so when\nthey espied the duke's daughter that was a fair woman, then by their\nfalse covin [_conspiracy_] they slew him and his eldest son, and then\nthey took the maiden and the treasure of the castle. And then by great\nforce they held all the knights of this castle against their will\nunder their obeisance, and in great servage and truage, robbing and\npulling [_pillaging_] the poor common people of all that they had. So\nit happened upon a day that the duke's daughter said, 'Ye have done\nto me great wrong to slay mine own father and my brother, and thus\nto hold our lands; not for then,' said she, 'ye shall not hold this\ncastle for many years; for by one knight ye shall be overcome.' Thus\nshe prophesied seven year before. 'Well,' said the seven knights,\n'sithence [_since_] ye say so, there shall never lady nor knight pass\nthis castle, but they shall abide mauger [_spite of_] their heads, or\ndie therefore, till that knight be come by whom we shall leese [_lose_]\nthis castle.' And therefore it is called the maidens' castle, for they\nhave devoured many maidens.\"\n\"Now,\" said Sir Galahad, \"is she here for whom this castle was lost.\"\n\"Nay,\" said the priest, \"she died within three nights after, and\nsithence have they kept her young sister, which endureth great pain,\nwith moe other ladies.\"\nBy this were the knights of the country come. And then he made them do\nhomage and fealty to the duke's daughter, and set them in great ease\nof heart. And in the morn there came one to Galahad, and told him how\nthat Gawaine, Gareth, and Uwaine had slain the seven brethren.\n\"I suppose well,\" said Sir Galahad: and took his armor and his horse,\nand commended them unto God.\nSo when Sir Galahad was departed from the Castle of Maidens, he rode\ntill he came to a waste forest, and there he met with Sir Launcelot and\nSir Percival, but they knew him not, for he was new disguised. Right\nso, Sir Launcelot his father dressed his spear, and brake it upon Sir\nGalahad, and Sir Galahad smote him so again, that he smote down horse\nand man. And then he drew his sword, and dressed him unto Sir Percival,\nand smote him so on the helm that it rove to the coif of steel, and had\nnot the sword swerved Sir Percival had been slain, and with the stroke\nhe fell out of his saddle. This joust was done before the hermitage\nwhere a recluse dwelled. And when she saw Sir Galahad ride, she said,\n\"God be with thee, best knight of the world. Ah, certes,\" said she\nall aloud, that Launcelot and Percival might hear it, \"and yonder two\nknights had known thee as well as I do, they would not have encountered\nwith thee.\"\nWhen Sir Galahad heard her say so he was sore adread to be known:\ntherewith he smote his horse with his spurs, and then rode a great pace\nfroward them. Then perceived they both that he was Galahad, and up they\ngat on their horses, and rode fast after him, but in a while he was out\nof their sight.\n[Then it fell that Sir Percival's horse was slain; and he gat him a\nhackney from a yeoman that he met, and the hackney was slain. Then\nSir Percival cast away his helm and sword, and said, \"Now am I a very\nwretch, cursed, and most unhappy above all other knights.\"]\nSo in this sorrow he abode all that day, till it was night, and then he\nwas faint, and laid him down and slept till it was midnight. And then\nhe awaked, and saw afore him a woman which said unto him, \"Abide me\nhere, and I shall go fetch you an horse.\"\nAnd so she came soon again, and brought an horse with her that was\nblack. When Sir Percival beheld that horse, he marvelled that it was so\ngreat and so well apparelled; and for then he was so hardy, he leaped\nupon him, and took none heed of himself. And so anon as he was upon\nhim he thrust to him with his spurs, and so rode by a forest, and the\nmoon shone clear. And within an hour and less, he bare him four days'\njourney thence, till he came to a rough water the which roared, and his\nhorse would have borne him into it.\nAnd when Sir Percival came nigh the brim, and saw the water so\nboisterous, he doubted to overpass it. And then he made the sign of the\ncross in his forehead. When the fiend felt him so charged, he shook off\nSir Percival, and he went into the water, crying and roaring, making\ngreat sorrow; and it seemed unto him that the water burnt. Then Sir\nPercival perceived it was a fiend, the which would have brought him\nunto his perdition.\nAnd so he prayed all that night, till on the morn that it was day. Then\nhe saw that he was in a wild mountain the which was closed with the sea\nnigh all about, that he might see no land about him which might relieve\nhim, but wild beasts. And then he went into a valley, and there he\nsaw a young serpent bring a young lion by the neck, and so he came by\nSir Percival. With that came a great lion crying and roaring after the\nserpent. And as fast as Sir Percival saw this, he marvelled, and hied\nhim thither, but anon the lion had overtaken the serpent, and began\nbattle with him. And then Sir Percival thought to help the lion, for he\nwas the more natural beast of the two; and therewith he drew his sword,\nand set his shield afore him, and there gave the serpent such a buffet\nthat he had a deadly wound. When the lion saw that, he made no semblant\nto fight with him, but made him all the cheer that a beast might make a\nman. Then Sir Percival perceived that, and cast down his shield, which\nwas broken, and then he did off his helm for to gather wind, for he was\ngreatly enchafed with the serpent. And the lion went alway about him\nfawning as a spaniel. And then he stroked him on the neck and on the\nshoulders. And then he thanked God of the fellowship of that beast. And\nabout noon, the lion took his little whelp, and trussed him, and bare\nhim there he came from. Then was Sir Percival alone.\nThus when Sir Percival had prayed, he saw the lion come towards him,\nand then he couched down at his feet. And so all that night the lion\nand he slept together; and when Sir Percival slept he dreamed a\nmarvellous dream, that there two ladies met with him, and that one sat\nupon a lion, and that other sat upon a serpent, and that one of them\nwas young, and the other was old, and the youngest him thought said,\n\"Sir Percival, my lord saluteth thee, and sendeth thee word that thou\narray thee and make thee ready, for to-morrow thou must fight with the\nstrongest champion of the world.\"\n[Then, after many great deeds, it befell on a certain day that as the\ngood knight Galahad rode, he was met by a damsel on a palfrey, and\nshe led him towards the sea. And so at the seaside they found a ship\nwherein they entered, and Sir Bors and Sir Percival being in that ship\ngreeted them with joy.]\nBy then the ship went from the land of Logris, and by adventure it\narrived up betwixt two rocks passing great and marvellous, but there\nthey might not land, for there was a swallow of the sea, save there was\nanother ship, and upon it they might go without danger.\n\"Go we thither,\" said the gentlewoman, \"and there shall we see\nadventures, for so is our Lord's will.\"\nAnd when they came thither, they found the ship rich enough, but they\nfound neither man nor woman therein. But they found in the end of\nthe ship two fair letters written, which said a dreadful word and a\nmarvellous:--\n\"Thou man which shall enter into this ship, beware thou be in steadfast\nbelief, for I am faith, and therefore beware how thou enterest, for and\nthou fail I shall not help thee.\"\nThen said the gentlewoman, \"Percival, wot ye what I am?\"\n\"Certainly,\" said he, \"not to my witting.\"\n\"Wit ye well,\" said she, \"I am thy sister, that am daughter of King\nPellinore, and therefore wit ye well that ye are the man in the world\nthat I most love; and if ye be not in perfect belief, enter not in no\nmanner of wise, for then should ye perish in the ship, for it is so\nperfect it will suffer no sin in it.\"\nAnd when Sir Percival knew that she was his sister, he was inwardly\nglad, and said, \"Fair sister, I shall enter therein, for if I be a\nmiss-creature or an untrue knight, there shall I perish.\"\nIn the meanwhile Sir Galahad blessed him, and entered therein, and then\nnext the gentlewoman, and then Sir Bors and Sir Percival. And when they\nwere therein, they found it so marvellous fair and rich, that they had\ngreat marvel thereof. And in the midst of the ship was a fair bed, and\nSir Galahad went thereto, and found there a crown of silk, and at the\nfeet was a sword rich and fair, and it was drawn out of the sheath half\na foot and more, and the sword was of divers fashions, and the pommel\nwas of stone, and there was in him all manner of colors that any man\nmight find, and every each of the colors had divers virtues, and the\nscales of the haft were of two ribs of divers beasts. The one beast was\na serpent, which was conversant in Calidone, and is called the serpent\nof the fiend. And the bone of him is of such a virtue, that there is\nno hand that handleth him shall never be weary nor hurt. And the other\nbeast is a fish which is not right great, and haunteth the flood of\nEufrates; and that fish is called Ertanax, and his bones be of such a\nmanner of kind, that who that handleth them shall have so much will\nthat he shall never be weary, and he shall not think on joy nor sorrow\nthat he hath had, but only that thing that he beholdeth before him.\nAnd as for this sword there shall never man begripe it at the handle\nbut one, but he shall pass all other.\n\"In the name of God,\" said Sir Percival, \"I shall essay to handle it.\"\nSo he set his hand to the sword, but he might not begripe it.\n\"By my faith,\" said he, \"now have I failed.\"\nSir Bors set his hand thereto and failed. Then Sir Galahad beheld the\nsword, and saw the letters like blood, that said, \"Let see who shall\nassay to draw me out of my sheath, but if he be more hardier than\nother, and who that draweth me, wit ye well that he shall never fail of\nshame of his body, or to be wounded to the death.\"\n\"By my faith,\" said Galahad, \"I would draw this sword out of the\nsheath, but the offending is so great that I shall not set my hand\nthereto.\"\n\"Now sir,\" said the gentlewoman, \"wit ye well that the drawing of this\nsword is forbidden to all men, save all only unto you. Also this ship\narrived in the realm of Logris [_England_], and that time was deadly\nwar between King Labor, which was father unto the maimed king, and King\nHurlame, which was a Saracen. But then was he newly christened, so that\nmen held him afterwards one of the wittiest men of the world. And so\nupon a day it befell that King Labor and King Hurlame had assembled\ntheir folk upon the sea, where this ship was arrived, and there King\nHurlame was discomfit, and his men slain, and he was afeared to be\ndead, and fled to his ship, and there found this sword, and drew\nit, and came out and found King Labor, the man in the world of all\nChristendom in whom was then the greatest faith. And when King Hurlame\nsaw King Labor, he dressed this sword, and smote him upon the helm\nso hard, that he clave him and his horse to the earth with the first\nstroke of his sword. And it was in the realm of Logris; and so befell\ngreat pestilence and great harm to both realms. For sith increased\ncorn nor grass, nor well nigh no fruit, nor in the water was no fish,\nwherefore men call it the lands of the two marches, the waste land for\nthe dolorous stroke. And when King Hurlame saw that this sword was so\nkerving [_sharp_], he returned again to fetch the scabbard, and so came\ninto this ship, and entered and put the sword into the scabbard; and as\nsoon as he had done so, he fell down dead before the bed. Thus was the\nsword proved, that none that drew it but he were dead or maimed.\"\n\"Sir,\" said she, \"there was a king that hight Pelles the Maimed King.\nAnd while he might ride, he supported much Christendom, and holy\nChurch. So upon a day he hunted in a wood of his which lasted unto the\nsea, and at the last he lost his hounds and his knights, save only one;\nand there he and his knight went till that they came toward Ireland,\nand there he found the ship. And when he saw the letters and understood\nthem, yet he entered, for he was right perfect of his life; but his\nknight had none hardiness to enter, and there found he this sword,\nand drew it out as much as ye may see. So therewith entered a spear,\nwherewith he was smitten through both the thighs, and never sith might\nhe be healed, nor nought shall, tofore we come to him. Thus, said she,\nwas King Pelles, your grandsire, maimed for his hardiness.\"\n\"In the name of God, damsel,\" said Galahad.\nSo they went toward the bed to behold all about it, and above the head\nthere hung two swords. Also there were two spindles which were as white\nas any snow, and other that were as red as blood, and other above green\nas any emerald: of these three colors were the spindles, and of natural\ncolor within, and without any painting.\n\"These spindles,\" said the damsel, \"were when sinful Eve came to\ngather fruit, for which Adam and she were put out of paradise, she\ntook with her the bough on which the apple hung. Then perceived she\nthat the branch was fair and green, and she remembered her the loss\nwhich came from the tree, then she thought to keep the branch as long\nas she might; and because she had no coffer to keep it in, she put it\ninto the ground. So by the will of our Lord the branch grew to a great\ntree within a little while, and was as white as any snow, branches,\nboughs, and leaves, that it was a token a maid planted it. And anon\nthe tree, that was white, became as green as any grass, and all that\ncame of it. And so it befell many days after, under the same tree, Cain\nslew his brother Abel, whereof befell full great marvel; for anon as\nAbel had received the death under the green tree, it lost the green\ncolor and became red, and that was in tokening of the blood; and anon\nall the plants died thereof, but the tree grew and waxed marvellous\nfair, and it was the fairest tree and the most delectable that any\nman might behold: and so died the plants that grew out of it before\nthe time that Abel was slain under it. So long endured the tree till\nthat Solomon, King David's son, reigned and held the land after his\nfather. This Solomon was wise and knew the virtues of stones and of\ntrees, and so he knew the course of the stars, and many other things.\nThis King Solomon had an evil wife, wherethrough he wend that there\nhad never been no good woman; and so he despised them in his books. So\na voice answered him once, 'Solomon, if heaviness come unto a man by\na woman, ne reck thou never; for yet shall there come a woman whereof\nthere shall come greater joy unto man an hundred times more than this\nheaviness giveth sorrow, and that woman shall be born of thy lineage.'\nThen when Solomon heard these words, he held himself but a fool, and\nthe truth he perceived by old books. Also the Holy Ghost showed him the\ncoming of the glorious Virgin Mary. Then asked he of the voice if it\nshould be in the end of his lineage. 'Nay,' said the voice, 'but there\nshall come a man which shall be a [pure man] of your blood, and he\nshall be as good a knight as Duke Josua thy brother-in-law.\n'Now have I certified thee of that thou stoodst in doubt.' Then was\nSolomon glad that there should come any such of his lineage, but ever\nhe marvelled and studied who that should be, and what his name might\nbe. His wife perceived that he studied, and thought that she would\nknow it at some season, and so she waited her time, and asked of him\nthe cause of his studying, and there he told her altogether how the\nvoice told him. 'Well,' said she, 'I shall let make a ship of the best\nwood and most durable that men may find.' So Solomon sent for all\nthe carpenters of the land and the best. And when they had made the\nship, the lady said to Solomon, 'Sir,' said she, 'since it is so that\nthis knight ought to pass all other knights of chivalry which have\nbeen tofore him, and shall come after him, moreover I shall tell you,'\nsaid she, 'ye shall go into our Lord's temple, whereas is King David's\nsword, your father, the which is the marvellousest and sharpest that\never was taken in any knight's hand. Therefore take that, and take off\nthe pommel, and thereto make ye a pommel of precious stones, that it be\nso subtilly made that no man perceive it but that they be all one. And\nafter make there an hilt so marvellously and wonderly that no man may\nknow it; and after make a marvellous sheath; and when you have made all\nthis, I shall let make a girdle thereto, such as shall please you.' All\nthis King Solomon let make as she devised, both the ship and all the\nremnant. And when the ship was ready in the sea for to sail, the lady\nlet make a great bed and marvellous rich, and set her upon the bed's\nhead covered with silk, and laid the sword at the bed's feet; and the\ngirdles were of hemp. And therewith was the king angry. 'Sir, wit ye\nwell,' said she, 'that I have none so high a thing that were worthy to\nsustain so big a sword, and a maid shall bring other knights thereto,\nbut I wot not when it shall be, nor what time.' And there she let make\na covering to the ship, of cloth of silk that shall never rot for no\nmanner of weather. Yet went that lady and made a carpenter to come to\nthat tree which Abel was slain under. 'Now,' said she, 'carve me out\nof this tree as much wood as will make me a spindle.' 'Ah! madam,'\nsaid the carpenter, 'this is the tree the which our first mother\nplanted.' 'Do it,' said she, 'or else I shall destroy thee.' Anon, as\nthe carpenter began to work, there came out drops of blood, and then\nwould he have left, but she would not suffer him. And so he took away\nas much wood as might well make a spindle; and so she made him to take\nas much of the green tree and of the white tree. And when these three\nspindles were shapen, she made them to be fastened on the bed. When\nSolomon saw this he said to his wife, 'Ye have done marvellously, for\nthough all the world were here now, they could not tell wherefore all\nthis was made, but our Lord himself, and thou that hast done it wottest\nnot what it shall betoken.' 'Now let it be,' said she, 'for ye shall\nhear tidings sooner than ye ween.'\nThat night lay King Solomon before the ship with a small fellowship.\nAnd when King Solomon was on sleep, him thought there came from heaven\na great company of angels, and alighted into the ship and took water\nwhich was brought by an angel in a vessel of silver, and besprent\n[_besprinkled_] all the ship; and after he came to the sword, and drew\nletters on the hilt. And after went to the ship's board, and wrote\nthere other letters, which said: 'Thou man that wilt enter within me,\nbeware that thou be full within the faith, for I ne [_not_] am but\nfaith and belief.' When Solomon espied these letters he was abashed, so\nthat he durst not enter, and so drew him aback, and the ship was anon\nshoven in the sea, and he went so fast that he lost sight of him within\na little while. And then a little voice said, 'Solomon, the last\nknight of thy lineage shall rest in this bed.' Then went Solomon and\nawaked his wife and told her of the adventures of the ship.\nNow a great while the three fellows [_Galahad, and his two friends_]\nbeheld the bed and the three spindles. Then they were at certain that\nthey were of natural colors, without painting. Then they lifted up a\ncloth which was above the ground, and there they found a rich purse by\nseeming. And Percival took it, and found therein a writ, and so he read\nit, and devised the manner of the spindles, and of the ship, whence it\ncame, and by whom it was made.\n\"Now,\" said Galahad, \"where shall we find the gentlewoman that shall\nmake new girdles to the sword?\"\n\"Fair sir,\" said Percival's sister, \"dismay you not, for by the leave\nof God I shall let make a girdle to the sword, such one as shall belong\nthereto.\"\nAnd then she opened a box, and took out girdles which were seemly\nwrought with golden threads, and thereupon were set full of precious\nstones, and a rich buckle of gold.\n\"Lo, lords,\" said the gentlewoman, \"here is a girdle that ought to be\nset about the sword; and wit ye well that the greatest part of this\ngirdle was made of my hair, the which I loved full well while I was\na woman of the world; but as soon as I wist that this adventure was\nordained me, I clipped off my hair, and made this girdle in the name of\nGod.\"\n\"Ye are well found,\" said Sir Bors, \"for truly ye have put us out of a\ngreat pain, wherein we should have entered ne had your teaching been.\"\nThen went the gentlewoman and set it upon the girdle of the sword.\n\"Now,\" said the three fellows, \"what is the right name of the sword,\nand what shall we call it?\"\n\"Truly,\" said she, \"the name of the sword is the Sword with the Strange\nGirdles, and the scabbard, Mover of Blood; for no man that hath blood\nin him shall never see the one part of the scabbard which was made of\nthe tree of life.\"\nThen they said unto Sir Galahad, \"In the name of Jesu Christ, we pray\nyou that ye gird you with this sword, which hath been so much desired\nin the realm of Logris.\"\n\"Now let me begin,\" said Sir Galahad, \"to grip this sword for to give\nyou courage; but wot ye well that it belongeth no more to me than it\ndoth to you.\"\nAnd then he gripped about it with his fingers a great deal, and then\nshe girded him about the middle with the sword.\n\"Now reck I not though I die, for now I hold me one of the blessed\nmaidens of the world, which hath made thee the worthiest knight of the\nworld.\"\n\"Fair damsel,\" said Sir Galahad, \"ye have done so much that I shall be\nyour knight all the days of my life.\"\nThen they went from that ship, and went into the other ship; and anon\nthe wind drove them into the sea a great pace, but they had no victual.\nBut it happened that they came on the morrow to a castle which men\ncall Courteloise that was in the marches of Scotland. And when they\nhad passed the port, the gentlewoman said, \"Lords, here be men arriven\nthat, and they wist that ye were of King Arthur's court, ye should be\nassailed anon.\"\n\"Damsel,\" said Galahad, \"he that cast us out of the rock shall deliver\nus from them.\"\n[And it happened after that Sir Percival's sister of her own wish died\nfor the healing of a certain lady, and the lady was healed. Then, as\nshe had desired beforehand, Sir Percival laid her in a barge and]\ncovered it with silk; and the wind arose and drove the barge from land,\nand all knights beheld it till it was out of their sight.\nWhen Sir Launcelot was come to the water of Mortaise, he was in great\nperil, and so he laid him down and slept, and took his adventure that\nGod would send him. So when he was asleep, there came a vision unto\nhim, and said, \"Launcelot, arise up and take thine armor, and enter\ninto the first ship that thou shalt find.\"\nAnd when he had heard these words, he started up, and saw a great\nclearness about him; and then he lifted up his hand and blessed him,\nand so took his armor, and made him ready. And by adventure he came by\na strand, and found a ship the which was without sail or oars; and as\nsoon as he was within the ship, there he felt the most sweetest savor\nthat ever he felt, and he was fulfilled with all things that he thought\non or desired. And so in this joy he lay him down on the ship-board,\nand slept till daylight. And when he awoke, he found there a fair bed,\nand therein lying a gentlewoman dead, the which was Sir Percival's\nsister. And as Sir Launcelot beheld her, he espied in her right hand\na writing, the which he read, wherein he found all the adventures as\nye have heard before, and of what lineage she was come. So with this\ngentlewoman Sir Launcelot was a month and more.\nSo upon a night he went to play him by the water's side, for he was\nsomewhat weary of the ship, and then he listened, and heard an horse\ncome, and one riding upon him. And when he came nigh he seemed a\nknight. And so he let him pass, and went there as the ship was, and\nthere he alighted, and took the saddle and the bridle and put the horse\nfrom him, and went into the ship. And then Launcelot dressed unto him\nand said, \"Ye be welcome.\"\nAnd he answered and saluted him again, and asked him, \"What is your\nname? for much my heart giveth unto you.\"\n\"Truly,\" said he, \"my name is Launcelot du Lake.\"\n\"Sir,\" said he, \"then be ye welcome, for ye were the beginner of me in\nthis world.\"\n\"Ah,\" said he, \"are ye Galahad?\"\n\"Yea forsooth,\" said he.\nAnd so he kneeled down and asked him his blessing, and after took off\nhis helm and kissed him. And there was great joy between them, for\nthere is no tongue can tell the joy that they made either of other,\nand many a friendly word spoken between, as kind [_nature_] would,\nthe which is no need here to be rehearsed. And there every each told\nother of their adventures and marvels that were befallen to them in\nmany journeys, sith that they departed from the court. Anon as Galahad\nsaw the gentlewoman dead in the bed, he knew her well enough, and told\ngreat worship of her, and that she was the best maid living, and it was\ngreat pity of her death. But when Launcelot heard how the marvellous\nsword was gotten, and who made it, and all the marvels rehearsed\nafore, then he prayed Galahad his son that he would show him the sword,\nand so he did. And anon he kissed the pommel, and the hilts, and the\nscabbard.\n\"Truly,\" said Launcelot, \"never erst knew I of so high adventures\ndone, and so marvellous and strange.\" So dwelled Launcelot and Galahad\nwithin that ship half a year, and served God daily and nightly with\nall their power. And often they arrived in isles far from folk, where\nthere repaired none but wild beasts; and there they found many strange\nadventures and perilous, which they brought to an end.\n[Then on a certain day, a knight in white called to Sir Galahad from\nthe shore to leave that ship and fare on his quest, and Sir Galahad\ndeparted from his father Sir Launcelot, and rode off upon the shore.\nBut Sir Launcelot drove a month through the sea, ever praying for news\nof the Sancgreal.]\nSo it befell on a night, at midnight he arrived afore a castle, on the\nback side, which was rich and fair. And there was a postern opened\ntowards the sea, and was open without any keeping, save two lions kept\nthe entry; and the moon shone clear. Anon Sir Launcelot heard a voice\nthat said, \"Launcelot, go out of this ship, and enter into the castle,\nwhere thou shalt see a great part of thy desire.\" Then he ran to his\narms, and so armed him, and so he went to the gate, and saw the lions.\nThen set he hand to his sword, and drew it. Then there came a dwarf\nsuddenly, and smote him on the arm so sore that the sword fell out of\nhis hand. Then took he again his sword, and put it up in his sheath,\nand make a cross in his forehead, and came to the lions, and they made\nsemblant to do him harm. Notwithstanding he passed by them without\nhurt, and entered into the castle to the chief fortress, and there were\nthey all at rest. Then Launcelot entered in so armed, for he found\nno gate nor door but it was open. And at the last he found a chamber\nwhereof the door was shut, and he set his hand thereto to have opened\nit, but he might not.\nThen he enforced him mickle [_much_] to undo the door. Then he\nlistened, and heard a voice which sang so sweetly that it seemed none\nearthly thing. Then Sir Launcelot kneeled down before the chamber,\nfor well wist he that there was the Sancgreal within that chamber.\nThen said he, \"Fair sweet Father Jesu Christ, if ever I did thing that\npleased the Lord, for thy pity have me not in despite for my sins done\naforetime, and that thou show me something of that I seek!\"\nAnd with that he saw the chamber door open, and there came out a great\nclearness, that the house was as bright as all the torches of the world\nhad been there. So came he to the chamber door, and would have entered.\nAnd anon a voice said to him, \"Flee, Launcelot, and enter not, for thou\noughtest not to do it: and if thou enter thou shalt forthink it.\" Then\nhe withdrew him aback right heavy. Then looked he up in the midst of\nthe chamber, and saw a table of silver, and the holy vessel covered\nwith red samite, and many angels about it.\nRight soon he entered into the chamber, and came towards the table\nof silver; and, when he came nigh, he felt a breath, that him thought\nwas entermedled [_mingled_] with fire, which smote him so sore in the\nvisage, that him thought it all to-burnt his visage, and therewith he\nfell to the ground, and had no power to arise. Then felt he many hands\nabout him, which took him up, and bare him out of the chamber without\nany amending of his sowne [_swoon_], and left him there seeming dead\nto all the people. So on the morrow, when it was fair daylight, they\nwithin were arisen, and found Sir Launcelot lying before the chamber\ndoor: all they marvelled how he came in. And so they took him by every\npart of the body, and bare him into a chamber, and laid him in a rich\nbed far from all folk.\n[Thus lay Sir Launcelot twenty-four days and nights, like as it were a\npunishment for the twenty-four years that he had been a sinner. And at\nthe last he recovered himself.]\nSo Sir Launcelot departed, and took his armor, and said that he would\ngo see the realm of Logris, \"which I have not seen in a twelvemonth.\"\nAnd therewith he [took his leave and] rode through many realms. And\nhe turned unto Camelot, where he found King Arthur and the queen. But\nmany of the knights of the Round Table were slain and destroyed, more\nthan half. And so three were come home, Ector, Gawaine, and Lionel, and\nmany other that need not to be rehearsed. And all the court was passing\nglad of Sir Launcelot; and the king asked him many tidings of his son\nGalahad. And there Launcelot told the king of his adventures that had\nbefallen him since he departed. And also he told him of the adventures\nof Galahad, Percival, and Bors, which that he knew by the letter of the\ndead damsel, and as Galahad had told him.\n\"Now, God would,\" said the king, \"that they were all three here.\"\n\"That shall never be,\" said Launcelot, \"for two of them shall ye never\nsee, but one of them shall come again.\"\n[Now Sir Galahad rode many journeys in vain, and afterward, meeting\nwith Sir Bors and Sir Percival, they knew many wonders and adventures;\ntill on a certain day they came down into a ship, and in the midst\nthereof they found a table of silver and the Holy Grail all covered\nwith white samite. And the Holy Grail wrought many miracles, comforting\nthem in prison, feeding them, and healing the sick. And it befell that\nthe Paynim king who had cast them in prison died, and the people by one\naccord chose Sir Galahad to be king, and he reigned there a year. And\non a certain morning Sir Galahad, having risen early, and come unto the\npalace, saw before him the Holy Grail, and a man kneeling, and about\nhim a great fellowship of angels. Then Sir Galahad knew that his hour\nwas come. And he] went to Sir Percival, and kissed him and commended\nhim to God; and he went to Sir Bors, and kissed him and commended him\nto God, and said, \"Fair lord, salute me to my lord Sir Launcelot, my\nfather.\"\nAnd therewith he kneeled down before the table and made his prayers;\nand then suddenly his soul departed, and a great multitude of angels\nbare his soul up to heaven. Also the two fellows saw come from heaven\nan hand, but they saw not the body; and then it came to the [Holy\nGrail] and took it, and the spear, and so bare it to heaven.\nSince was there never man so hardy to say that he had seen the Holy\nGrail.\n[Then after a year and two months, Sir Percival, having lived a holy\nlife in a hermitage, departed away from this world. And having buried\nhim by his sister and Sir Galahad, Sir Bors entered into a ship and\ncame at last to Logris, and rode fast to Camelot where King Arthur was.\nAnd there was great joy made of him, for they weened he had been dead.]\nAnd anon Sir Bors said to Sir Launcelot, \"Galahad, your own son saluted\nyou by me, and after you King Arthur, and all the court, and so did Sir\nPercival: for I buried them with mine own hands in the city of Sarras.\nAlso, Sir Launcelot, Galahad prayeth you to remember of this uncertain\nworld, as ye behight him when ye were together more than half a year.\"\n\"This is true,\" said Launcelot; \"now I trust to God his prayer shall\navail me.\"\nThen Launcelot took Sir Bors in his arms, and said, \"Gentle cousin, ye\nare right welcome to me, and all that ever I may do for you and for\nyours, ye shall find my poor body ready at all times whiles the spirit\nis in it, and that I promise you faithfully, and never to fail. And wit\nye well, gentle cousin Sir Bors, that ye and I will never depart in\nsunder whilst our lives may last.\"\n\"Sir,\" said he, \"I will as ye will.\"\n OF THE FAIR MAID OF ASTOLAT\nSO after the quest of the Sanc Greal was fulfilled, and all knights\nthat were left on live were come again to the Table Round, then was\nthere great joy, and in especial King Arthur and Queen Guenever made\ngreat joy of the remnant that were come home.\nAnd then the queen let make a dinner in London unto the knights of the\nRound Table. All at that dinner she had Sir Gawaine and his brethren,\nthat is to say, Sir Agravaine, Sir Gaheris, Sir Gareth, and Sir\nMordred. Also there was Sir Bors de Ganis, Sir Blamor de Ganis, Sir\nBleoberis de Ganis, Sir Galihud, Sir Galihodin, Sir Ector de Maris, Sir\nLionel, Sir Palamides, Sir Safere his brother, Sir La Cote Mal Taile,\nSir Persant, Sir Ironside, Sir Brandiles, Sir Kay le Seneschal, Sir\nMador de la Porte, Sir Patrice, a knight of Ireland, [Sir] Aliduke, Sir\nAstomore, and Sir Pinel le Savage, the which was cousin to Sir Lamorak\nde Galis, the good knight that Sir Gawaine and his brethren slew by\ntreason. And so these four and twenty knights should dine with the\nqueen, and there was made a great feast of all manner of dainties. But\nSir Gawaine had a custom that he used daily at dinner and at supper,\nthat he loved well all manner of fruit, and in especial apples and\npears. And therefore whosoever dined or feasted Sir Gawaine would\ncommonly purvey for good fruit for him; and so did the queen for to\nplease Sir Gawaine, she let purvey for him of all manner of fruit, for\nSir Gawaine was a passing hot knight of nature. And this Pinel hated\nSir Gawaine because of his kinsman Sir Lamorak de Galis, and therefore\nfor pure envy and hate Sir Pinel enpoisoned certain apples, for to\nenpoison Sir Gawaine. And so this was well unto the end of the meat;\nand so it befell by misfortune a good knight named Patrice, cousin\nunto Sir Mador de la Porte, to take a poisoned apple. And when he had\neaten it he swelled so till he burst, and there Sir Patrice fell down\nsuddenly dead among them. Then every knight leaped from the board\nashamed and enraged for wrath, nigh out of their wits. For they wist\nnot what to say: considering Queen Guenever made the feast and dinner,\nthey all had suspicion unto her.\n\"My lady, the queen,\" said Gawaine, \"wit ye well, madam, that this\ndinner was made for me: for all folks that know my conditions\nunderstand that I love well fruit; and now I see well I had near been\nslain; therefore, madam, I dread lest ye will be shamed.\"\nThen the queen stood still, and was sore abashed, that she wist not\nwhat to say.\n\"This shall not so be ended,\" said Sir Mador de la Porte, \"for here\nhave I lost a full noble knight of my blood, and therefore upon this\nshame and despite I will be revenged to the uttermost.\"\nAnd thereupon Sir Mador appealed Queen Guenever of the death of\nhis cousin Sir Patrice.[18] Then stood they all still, that none of\nthem would speak a word against him, for they had a great suspection\n[_suspicion_] unto Queen Guenever, because she let make the dinner. And\nthe queen was so sore abashed that she could none otherwise do but wept\nso heartily that she fell in a swoon. With this noise and sudden cry\ncame unto them King Arthur, and marvelled greatly what it might be; and\nwhen he wist of their trouble, and the sudden death of that good knight\nSir Patrice, he was a passing heavy man.\n[Footnote 18: We have here the beginning of that series of quarrels\nwhich presently arrays Sir Gawaine and King Arthur (who with many\nprotests allows himself to be guided by Sir Gawaine) on one side,\nagainst Queen Guenever and Sir Launcelot (who has taken the queen's\npart) on the other, and which ends with the great battle in which\nArthur is slain and the Round Table broken up for ever.]\nAnd ever Sir Mador stood still before King Arthur, and ever he appealed\nQueen Guenever of treason; for the custom was such at that time that\nall manner of shameful death was called treason.\n\"Fair lords,\" said King Arthur, \"me repenteth sore of this trouble, but\nthe cause is so we may not have to do in this matter, for I must be\na rightful judge, and that repenteth me that I may not do battle for\nmy wife, for, as I deem, this deed came never of her; and therefore I\nsuppose we shall not all be destitute, but that some good knight shall\nput his body in jeopardy for my queen rather than she should be brent\n[_burnt_] in a wrong quarrel; and therefore, Sir Mador, be not so\nhasty, for it may happen she shall not be all friendless, and therefore\ndesire thou the day of battle, and she shall purvey her of some good\nknight which shall answer you, or else it were to me great shame, and\nunto all my court.\"\n\"My gracious lord,\" said Sir Mador, \"ye must hold me excused, for\nthough ye be our king, in that degree ye are but a knight as we are,\nand ye are sworn unto knighthood as well as we, and therefore I pray\nyou that ye will not be displeased; for there is none of the twenty\nknights that were bidden for to come unto this dinner, but all they\nhave great suspection unto the queen. What say you all, my lords?\" said\nSir Mador.\nThen they answered by and by, and said they could not excuse the queen,\nfor why she made the dinner, and either it must come by her or by her\nservants.\n\"Alas,\" said the queen, \"I made this dinner for a good intent, and\nnever for none evil; so Almighty God help me in my right.\"\n\"My lord the king,\" said Sir Mador, \"I require you, as ye be a\nrighteous king, give me a day that I may have justice.\"\n\"Well,\" said the king, \"I give the day this day fifteen days, that thou\nbe ready armed on horseback in the meadow beside Westminster. And if it\nso fall that there be any knight to encounter with you, there mayest\nthou do the best, and God speed the right. And if it so fall that there\nbe no knight at that day, then must my queen be burnt, and there shall\nshe be ready to have her judgment.\"\n\"I am answered,\" said Sir Mador; and every knight went where it liked\nhim.\nSo when the king and queen were together, the king asked the queen how\nthis case befell?\nThe queen answered, \"So God me help, I wot not how, nor in what manner.\"\n\"Where is Sir Launcelot?\" said King Arthur, \"and he were here, he would\nnot grudge to do battle for you.\"\n\"Sir,\" said the queen, \"I wot not where he is, but his brother and his\nkinsmen deem that he is not within this realm.\"\n[For, within a little while before, it happened on a day that Queen\nGuenever was displeased with Sir Launcelot and forbade him the court,\nand that Sir Launcelot full sadly left the court and departed into his\ncountry and dwelt with the hermit Sir Brasias.]\n\"That me repenteth,\" said King Arthur, \"for and he were here he would\nsoon stint this strife. Then I will counsel you,\" said the king, \"that\nye go unto Sir Bors, and pray him to do that battle for you for Sir\nLauncelot's sake, and upon my life he will not refuse you; for right\nwell I perceive that none of all these twenty knights that were with\nyou in fellowship at your dinner will do battle for you: [which would\nbe] great slander for you in this court.\"\n\"Alas!\" said the queen, \"I cannot do withal; but now I miss Sir\nLauncelot, for, and he were here, he would put me full soon unto my\nheart's ease.\"\n\"Now go your way,\" said the king unto the queen, \"and require Sir Bors\nto do battle for you for Sir Launcelot's sake.\"\nSo the queen departed from the king, and sent for Sir Bors into her\nchamber; and when he was come, she besought him of succor.\n\"Madam,\" said he, \"what would ye that I do? for I may not with my\nworship have to do in this matter, because I was at that same dinner,\nfor dread that any of those knights would have me in suspection; also,\nmadam,\" said Sir Bors, \"now miss ye Sir Launcelot, for he would not\nhave failed you, neither in right nor yet in wrong, as ye have well\nproved when ye have been in danger, and now have ye driven him out\nof this country, by whom ye and we all were daily worshipped.[19]\nTherefore, madam, I greatly marvel me how ye dare for shame require me\nto do any thing for you, in so much as ye have chased him out of your\ncountry by whom we were borne up and honored.\"\n[Footnote 19: \"Worshipped\" _made of worth, honored_.]\n\"Alas! fair knight,\" said the queen, \"I put me wholly in your grace,\nand all that is done amiss I will amend as ye will counsel me.\"\nAnd therewith she kneeled down upon both her knees, and besought Sir\nBors to have mercy upon her, \"or I shall have a shameful death, and\nthereto I never offended.\"\nRight so came King Arthur, and found the queen kneeling afore Sir\nBors. Then Sir Bors pulled her up, and said, \"Madam, ye do to me great\ndishonor.\"\n\"Ah, gentle knight,\" said the king, \"have mercy upon my queen,\ncourteous knight, for I am now in certain she is untruly defamed. And\ntherefore, courteous knight,\" said the king, \"promise her to do battle\nfor her: I require you, for the love of Sir Launcelot.\"\n\"My lord,\" said Sir Bors, \"ye require me the greatest thing that any\nman may require me; and wit ye well, if I grant to do battle for\nthe queen I shall wrath many of my fellowship of the Table Round;\nbut as for that,\" said Bors, \"I will grant my lord, for my lord Sir\nLauncelot's sake, and for your sake, I will at that day be the queen's\nchampion, unless that there come by adventure a better knight than I am\nto do battle for her.\"\n\"Will ye promise me this,\" said the king, \"by your faith?\"\n\"Yea sir,\" said Sir Bors, \"of that will I not fail you, nor her both,\nbut if that there come a better knight than I am, and then shall he\nhave the battle.\"\nThen was the king and the queen passing glad, and so departed, and\nthanked him heartily. So then Sir Bors departed secretly upon a day,\nand rode unto Sir Launcelot, there as he was with the hermit Sir\nBrasias, and told him of all their adventure.\n\"Ah,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"this is come happily as I would have it,\nand therefore I pray you make you ready to do battle, but look that ye\ntarry till ye see me come, as long as ye may. For I am sure Mador is\nan hot knight, when he is enchafed, for the more ye suffer him, the\nhastier will he be to battle.\"\n\"Sir,\" said Sir Bors, \"let me deal with him; doubt ye not ye shall have\nall your will.\"\nThen departed Sir Bors from him, and came to the court again. Then\nwas it noised in all the court that Sir Bors should do battle for the\nqueen: wherefore many knights were displeased with him, that he would\ntake upon him to do battle in the queen's quarrel, for there were but\nfew knights in the court but they deemed the queen was in the wrong,\nand that she had done that treason. So Sir Bors answered thus unto his\nfellows of the Table Round: \"Wit ye well, my fair lords, it were shame\nto us all, and we suffered to see the most noble queen of the world to\nbe shamed openly, considering her lord and our lord is the man of most\nworship in the world, and most christened, and he hath ever worshipped\nus all, in all places.\"\nMany answered him again: \"As for our most noble King Arthur, we love\nhim and honor him as well as ye do; but as for Queen Guenever, we love\nher not, for because she is a destroyer of good knights.\"\n\"Fair lords,\" said Sir Bors, \"me seemeth ye say not as ye should say,\nfor never yet in all my days knew I nor heard say that ever she was\na destroyer of any good knight; but at all times, as far as I ever\ncould know, she was always a maintainer of good knights, and alway she\nhath been large and free of her goods to all good knights, and the\nmost bounteous lady of her gifts and her good grace that ever I saw\nor heard speak of; and therefore it were great shame,\" said Sir Bors,\n\"unto us all to our most noble king's wife, if we suffer her to be\nshamefully slain. And wit ye well,\" said Sir Bors, \"I will not suffer\nit, for I dare say so much, the queen is not guilty of Sir Patrice's\ndeath, for she ought [_owed_] him never none evil will, nor none of the\ntwenty-four knights that were at that dinner; for I dare well say that\nit was for good love she had us to dinner, and not for no mal engine\n[_bad design_], and that I doubt not shall be proved hereafter, for,\nhowsoever the game goeth, there was treason among some of us.\"\nThen some said to Sir Bors, \"We may well believe your words.\"\nAnd so some of them were well pleased, and some were not pleased.\nThe day came on fast until the even that the battle should be. Then the\nqueen sent for Sir Bors, and asked him how he was disposed.\n\"Truly, madam,\" said he, \"I am disposed in likewise as I promised you,\n[and I will not] fail you, unless by adventure there come a better\nknight than I to do battle for you; then, madam, I am discharged of my\npromise.\"\nThen the queen went unto the king, and told him the answer of Sir Bors.\n\"Have ye no doubt,\" said the king, \"of Sir Bors, for I call him now one\nof the best knights of the world, and the most profitable man.\"\nAnd thus it passed on until the morn. And the king and the queen, and\nall manner of knights that were there at that time, drew them unto the\nmeadow beside Westminster, where the battle should be. And so when the\nking was come with the queen, and many knights of the Round Table, then\nthe queen was put there in the constable's ward, and a great fire made\nabout an iron stake, that, and Sir Mador de la Porte had the better,\nshe should be burnt. Such custom was used in those days, that neither\nfor favor, neither for love, nor affinity, there should be none other\nbut righteous judgment, as well upon a king as upon a knight, and as\nwell upon a queen as upon another poor lady. So in this meanwhile\ncame in Sir Mador de la Porte, and took his oath before the king, That\nthe queen did this treason unto his cousin Sir Patrice, and unto his\noath he would prove it with his body, hand for hand, who that would\nsay the contrary. Right so came in Sir Bors, and said, that as for\nQueen Guenever, she is in the right, \"and that will I make good with my\nhands, that she is not culpable of this treason that is put upon her.\"\n\"Then make thee ready,\" said Sir Mador, \"and we shall prove whether\nthou be in the right or I.\"\n\"Sir Mador,\" said Sir Bors, \"wit thou well I know you for a good\nknight: but I trust unto almighty God I shall be able to withstand\nyour malice: but thus much have I promised my lord King Arthur, and\nmy lady the queen, that I shall do battle for her in this case to\nthe uttermost, unless that there come a better knight than I am, and\ndischarge me.\"\n\"Is that all?\" said Sir Mador; \"either come thou off, and do battle\nwith me, or else say nay.\"\n\"Take your horse,\" said Sir Bors, \"and, as I suppose, ye shall not\ntarry long but that ye shall be answered.\"\nThen either departed to their tents, and made them ready to mount upon\nhorseback as they thought best. And anon Sir Mador de la Porte came\ninto the field with his shield on his shoulder, and a spear in his\nhand; and so rode about the place, crying unto King Arthur, \"Bid your\nchampion come forth, and he dare.\"\nThen was Sir Bors ashamed, and took his horse, and came to the lists'\nend. And then was he ware where as came out of a wood, there fast by,\na knight all armed at all points upon a white horse, with a strange\nshield, and of strange arms; and he came riding all that he might run;\nand so he came to Sir Bors, and said, \"Fair knight, I pray you be not\ndispleased, for here must a better knight than ye are have this battle;\ntherefore I pray you to withdraw you, for I would ye knew I have had\nthis day a right great journey, and this battle ought to be mine, and\nso I promised you when I spake with you last, and with all my heart I\nthank you of your good will.\"\nThen Sir Bors rode unto King Arthur, and told him how there was a\nknight come that would have the battle for to fight for the queen.\n\"What knight is he?\" said the king.\n\"I wot not,\" said Sir Bors, \"but such covenant he made with me to be\nhere this day. Now my lord,\" said Sir Bors, \"here am I discharged.\"\nThen the king called to that knight, and asked him if he would fight\nfor the queen. Then he answered to the king, \"Therefore came I hither,\nand therefore, Sir king,\" he said, \"tarry me no longer, for I may not\ntarry. For anon as I have finished this battle I must depart hence, for\nI have ado many matters elsewhere. For wit you well,\" said that knight,\n\"this is dishonor to you all knights of the Round Table, to see and\nknow so noble a lady and so courteous a queen as Queen Guenever is thus\nto be rebuked and shamed amongst you.\"\nThen they all marvelled what knight that might be that so took the\nbattle upon him, for there was not one that knew him, but if it were\nSir Bors. Then said Sir Mador de la Porte unto the king, \"Now let me\nwit with whom I shall have ado withal.\"\nAnd then they rode to the lists' end, and there they couched their\nspears, and ran together with all their mights. And Sir Mador's spear\nbrake all to pieces, but the other's spear held, and bare Sir Mador's\nhorse and all backward to the earth a great fall. But mightily and\nsuddenly he avoided his horse, and put his shield afore him, and then\ndrew his sword, and bade the other knight alight and do battle with\nhim on foot. Then that knight descended from his horse lightly like\na valiant man, and put his shield afore him, and drew his sword, and\nso they came eagerly unto battle, and either gave other many great\nstrokes, tracing and traversing, raising and foining, and hurtling\ntogether with their swords, as it were wild boars. Thus were they\nfighting nigh an hour, for this Sir Mador was a strong knight, and\nmightily proved in many strong battles. But at last this knight smote\nSir Mador grovelling upon the earth, and the knight stepped near him to\nhave pulled Sir Mador flatling upon the ground; and therewith suddenly\nSir Mador arose, and in his rising he smote that knight through the\nthick of the thighs, that the blood ran out fiercely. And when he felt\nhimself so wounded, and saw his blood, he let him arise upon his feet;\nand then he gave him such a buffet upon the helm that he fell to the\nearth flatling, and therewith he strode to him for to have pulled off\nhis helm off his head. And then Sir Mador prayed that knight to save\nhis life, and so he yielded him as overcome, and released the queen of\nhis quarrel.\n[Illustration: _Sir Mador's spear brake all to pieces, but the other's\nspear held_]\n\"I will not grant thee thy life,\" said that knight, \"only that thou\nfreely release the queen forever, and that no mention be made upon Sir\nPatrice's tomb that ever Queen Guenever consented to that treason.\"\n\"All this shall be done,\" said Sir Mador, \"I clearly discharge my\nquarrel forever.\"\nThen the knights parters of the lists [_knights who parted the\ncombatants_] took up Sir Mador and led him to his tent, and the other\nknight went straight to the stair foot whereas King Arthur sat, and by\nthat time was the queen come unto the king, and either kissed other\nlovingly. And when the king saw that knight, he stooped down unto him\nand thanked him, and in likewise did the queen. And then the king\nprayed him to put off his helm and to rest him, and to take a sop of\nwine; and then he put off his helm to drink, and then every knight knew\nthat he was the noble knight Sir Launcelot. As soon as the king wist\nthat, he took the queen by the hand, and went unto Sir Launcelot, and\nsaid, \"Gramercy of your great travel that ye have had this day for me\nand for my queen.\"\n\"My lord,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"wit ye well that I ought of right\never to be in your quarrel, and in my lady the queen's quarrel, to do\nbattle, for ye are the man that gave me the high order of knighthood,\nand that day my lady your queen did me great worship, or else I had\nbeen shamed. For that same day ye made me knight, through my hastiness\nI lost my sword, and my lady your queen found it, and lapped it in her\ntrain, and gave me my sword when I had need thereof, or else had I\nbeen shamed among all knights. And therefore, my lord King Arthur, I\npromised her at that day ever to be her knight in right or in wrong.\"\n\"Gramercy,\" said King Arthur, \"for this journey; and wit you well,\"\nsaid King Arthur, \"I shall acquit you of [_repay you for_] your\ngoodness.\"\nAnd ever the queen beheld Sir Launcelot, and wept so tenderly that she\nsank almost down upon the ground for sorrow, that he had done to her so\ngreat goodness, whereas she had showed him great unkindness. Then the\nknights of his blood drew unto him, and there either of them made great\njoy of other; and so came all the knights of the Round Table that were\nthere at that time, and he welcomed them. And then Sir Mador was had to\nleechcraft [_surgery_]; and Sir Launcelot was healed of his wound. And\nthen was there made great joy and mirth in the court.\nAnd so it befell that the damsel of the lake, which was called Nimue,\nthe which wedded the good knight Sir Pelleas, and so she came to the\ncourt, for ever she did great goodness unto King Arthur and to all his\nknights, through her sorcery and enchantments. And so when she heard\nhow the queen was [endangered] for the death of Sir Patrice, then she\ntold it openly that she was never guilty; and there she disclosed by\nwhom it was done, and named him Sir Pinel, and for what cause he did\nit; there it was openly disclosed, and so the queen was excused, and\nthe knight Sir Pinel fled into his country. Then was it openly known\nthat Sir Pinel empoisoned the apples of the feast, to the intent to\nhave destroyed Sir Gawaine, because Sir Gawaine and his brethren\ndestroyed Sir Lamorak de Galis, whom Sir Pinel was cousin unto.\nAnd then Sir Mador sued daily and long to have the queen's good grace;\nand so, by the means of Sir Launcelot, he caused him to stand in the\nqueen's grace, and all was forgiven. Thus it passed forth until our\nLady Day the Assumption; within fifteen days of that feast King [Arthur\nlet cry a great tournament] at Camelot, that is, Winchester, [where]\nhe and the King of Scotland would joust against all that would come\nagainst them. And when this cry was made, thither came many knights. So\nthere came thither the King of Northgalis, and King Anguish of Ireland,\nand the king with the hundred knights, and Sir Galahalt the haut\nprince, and the King of Northumberland, and many other noble dukes and\nearls of divers countries. So King Arthur made him ready to depart to\nthese jousts, and would have had the queen with him; but at that time\nshe would not, she said, for she was sick and might not ride at that\ntime.\n\"That me repenteth,\" said the king, \"for this seven year ye saw not\nsuch a fellowship together, except at Whitsuntide when Galahad departed\nfrom the court.\"\n\"Truly,\" said the queen to the king, \"ye must hold me excused: I may\nnot be there, and that me repenteth.\"\nAnd so upon the morn early Sir Launcelot heard mass, and brake his\nfast, and so took his leave of the queen, and departed. And then he\nrode so much until he came to Astolat, that is Gilford; and there it\nhapped him in the eventide he came to an old baron's place, that hight\nSir Bernard of Astolat. And as Sir Launcelot entered into his lodging,\nKing Arthur espied him as he did walk in a garden beside the castle,\nhow he took his lodging, and knew him full well.\n\"It is well,\" said King Arthur unto the knights that were with him\nin that garden beside the castle, \"I have now espied one knight that\nwill play his play at the jousts to the which we be gone towards, I\nundertake he will do marvels.\"\n\"Who is that, we pray you tell us,\" said many knights that were there\nat that time.\n\"Ye shall not wit for me,\" said the king, \"at this time.\"\nAnd so the king smiled, and went to his lodging. So when Sir Launcelot\nwas in his lodging, and unarmed him in his chamber, the old baron came\nunto him, making his reverence, and welcomed him in the best manner;\nbut the old knight knew not Sir Launcelot.\n\"Fair sir,\" said Sir Launcelot to his host, \"I would pray you to lend\nme a shield that were not openly known, for mine is well known.\"\n\"Sir,\" said his host, \"ye shall have your desire, for me seemeth ye\nbe one of the likeliest knights of the world, and therefore I shall\nshow you friendship. Sir, wit ye well I have two sons which were but\nlate made knights, and the eldest hight Sir Tirre, and he was hurt the\nsame day that he was made knight, that he may not ride, and his shield\nye shall have, for that is not known, I dare say, but here, and in no\nplace else. And my youngest son hight Sir Lavaine, and if it please you\nhe shall ride with you unto those jousts; and he is of his age strong\nand mighty, for much my heart giveth unto you that ye should be a noble\nknight, therefore I beseech you tell me your name,\" said Sir Bernard.\n\"As for that,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"ye must hold me excused as at this\ntime, and if God give me grace to speed well at the jousts, I shall\ncome again and tell you; but I pray you heartily,\" said Sir Launcelot,\n\"in any wise let me have your son Sir Lavaine with me, and that I may\nhave his brother's shield.\"\n\"Also this shall be done,\" said Sir Bernard.\nThis old baron had a daughter that time that was called the fair maid\nof Astolat, and ever she beheld Sir Launcelot wonderfully; and she cast\nsuch a love unto Sir Launcelot that she could not withdraw her love,\nwherefore she died; and her name was Elaine la Blanche. So thus as she\ncame to and fro, she besought Sir Launcelot to wear upon him at the\njousts a token of hers.\n\"Fair damsel,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"and if I grant you that, ye may say\nI do more for your love than ever I did for lady or damsel.\"\nThen he remembered him that he would ride unto the jousts disguised,\nand for because he had never before that time borne no manner of token\nof no damsel, then he bethought him that he would bear one of hers,\nthat none of his blood thereby might know him. And then he said, \"Fair\ndamsel, I will grant you to wear a token of yours upon my helmet, and\ntherefore what it is show me.\"\n\"Sir,\" said she, \"it is a red sleeve of mine, of scarlet well\nembroidered with great pearls.\"\nAnd so she brought it him. So Sir Launcelot received it, and said,\n\"Never or this time did I so much for no damsel.\"\nAnd then Sir Launcelot betook [_gave_] the fair damsel his shield in\nkeeping, and prayed her to keep it until he came again. And so that\nnight he had merry rest and great cheer; for ever the fair damsel\nElaine was about Sir Launcelot all the while that she might be suffered.\nSo upon a day in the morning, King Arthur and all his knights departed,\nfor the king had tarried there three days to abide his knights. And so\nwhen the king was ridden, Sir Launcelot and Sir Lavaine made them ready\nfor to ride, and either of them had white shields, and the red sleeve\nSir Launcelot let carry with him. And so they took their leave of Sir\nBernard the old baron, and of his daughter the fair maid of Astolat.\nAnd then they rode so long till that they came to Camelot, which now\nis called Winchester. And there was great press of knights, dukes,\nearls, and barons, and many noble knights; but there was Sir Launcelot\nprivily lodged by the means of Sir Lavaine with a rich burgess, that\nno man in that town was ware what they were. And so they sojourned\nthere till our Lady Day the Assumption, as the great feast should be.\nSo then trumpets began to blow unto the field, and King Arthur was\nset on high upon a scaffold to behold who did best. But King Arthur\nwould not suffer Sir Gawaine to go from him, for never had Sir Gawaine\nthe better if Sir Launcelot were in the field. And many times was Sir\nGawaine rebuked when Sir Launcelot came to any jousts disguised. Then\nsome of the kings, as King Anguish of Ireland and the King of Scotland,\nwere at that time turned upon King Arthur's side. And then upon the\nother side was the King of Northgalis, and the king with the hundred\nknights, and the King of Northumberland, and Sir Galahalt the haut\nprince. But these three kings and this one duke were passing weak to\nhold against King Arthur's party; for with him were the noblest knights\nof the world. So then they withdrew them either party from other, and\nevery man made him ready in his best manner to do what he might. Then\nSir Launcelot made him ready, and put the red sleeve upon his head, and\nfastened it fast; and so Sir Launcelot and Sir Lavaine departed out\nof Winchester privily, and rode until [_unto_] a little leaved wood,\nbehind the party that held against King Arthur's party, and there they\nheld them still till the parties smote together. And then came in the\nKing of Scots and the King of Ireland on Arthur's party; and against\nthem came the King of Northumberland; and the king with the hundred\nknights smote down the King of Northumberland, and also the king with\nthe hundred knights smote down King Anguish of Ireland. Then Sir\nPalamides, that was on Arthur's party, encountered with Sir Galahalt,\nand either of them smote down other, and either party holp their lords\non horseback again. So there began a strong assail upon both parties.\nAnd then there came in Sir Brandiles, Sir Sagramor le Desirous, Sir\nDodinas le Savage, Sir Kay le Seneschal, Sir Griflet le Fise de Dieu,\nSir Mordred, Sir Meliot de Logris, Sir Ozanna le Cure Hardy, Sir\nSafere, Sir Epinegris, and Sir Galleron of Galway. All these fifteen\nknights were knights of the Table Round. So these with more others came\nin together, and beat back the King of Northumberland, and the King\nof North Wales. When Sir Launcelot saw this, as he hoved in a little\nleaved wood, then he said unto Sir Lavaine, \"See yonder is a company\nof good knights, and they hold them together as boars that were chafed\nwith dogs.\"\n\"That is truth,\" said Sir Lavaine.\n\"Now,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"and ye will help me a little, ye shall see\nyonder fellowship which chaseth now these men in our side, that they\nshall go as fast backward as they went forward.\"\n\"Sir, spare not,\" said Sir Lavaine, \"for I shall do what I may.\"\nThen Sir Launcelot and Sir Lavaine came in at the thickest of the\npress, and there Sir Launcelot smote down Sir Brandiles, Sir Sagramor,\nSir Dodinas, Sir Kay, Sir Griflet, and all this he did with one spear.\nAnd Sir Lavaine smote down Sir Lucan le Butler, and Sir Bedivere. And\nthen Sir Launcelot gat another spear, and there he smote down Sir\nAgravaine, Sir Gaheris, and Sir Mordred, and Sir Meliot de Logris. And\nSir Lavaine smote down Ozanna le Cure Hardy: and then Sir Launcelot\ndrew his sword, and there he smote on the right hand and on the left\nhand, and by great force he unhorsed Sir Safere, Sir Epinegris, and Sir\nGalleron. And then the knights of the Table Round withdrew them aback,\nafter they had gotten their horses as well as they might.\n\"Oh, mercy,\" said Sir Gawaine, \"what knight is yonder, that doth so\nmarvellous deeds of arms in that field?\"\n\"I wot what he is,\" said King Arthur, \"but as at this time I will not\nname him.\"\n\"Sir,\" said Sir Gawaine, \"I would say it were Sir Launcelot, by his\nriding and his buffets that I see him deal: but ever me seemeth it\nshould be not he, for that he beareth the red sleeve upon his head, for\nI wist him never bear token, at no jousts, of lady nor gentlewoman.\"\n\"Let him be,\" said King Arthur, \"he will be better known and do more or\never he depart.\"\nThen the party that were against King Arthur were well comforted, and\nthen they held them together, that beforehand were sore rebuked. Then\nSir Bors, Sir Ector de Maris, and Sir Lionel, called unto them the\nknights of their blood, as Sir Blamor de Ganis, Sir Bleoberis, Sir\nAliduke, Sir Galihud, Sir Galihodin, Sir Bellangere le Beuse, so these\nnine knights of Sir Launcelot's kin thrust in mightily, for they were\nall noble knights. And they, of great hate and despite that they had\nunto him, thought to rebuke that noble knight Sir Launcelot, and Sir\nLavaine, for they knew them not. And so they came hurtling together,\nand smote down many knights of Northgalis and of Northumberland. And\nwhen Sir Launcelot saw them fare so, he gat a spear in his hand, and\nthere encountered with them all at once; Sir Bors, Sir Ector de Maris,\nand Sir Lionel smote him all at once with their spears.\nAnd with force of themselves they smote Sir Launcelot's horse unto the\nground; and by misfortune Sir Bors smote Sir Launcelot through the\nshield into the side, and the spear brake, and the head abode still\nin the side. When Sir Lavaine saw his master lie upon the ground, he\nran to the King of Scotland and smote him to the ground, and by great\nforce he took his horse and brought him to Sir Launcelot, and mauger\n[_in spite of_] them all he made him to mount upon that horse. And\nthen Sir Launcelot gat him a great spear in his hand, and there he\nsmote Sir Bors both horse and man to the ground; and in the same wise\nhe served Sir Ector and Sir Lionel; and Sir Lavaine smote down Sir\nBlamor de Ganis. And then Sir Launcelot began to draw his sword, for he\nfelt himself so sore hurt, that he wend there to have had his death;\nand then he smote Sir Bleoberis such a buffet upon the helm that he\nfell down to the ground in a swoon; and in the same wise he served Sir\nAliduke and Sir Galihud. And Sir Lavaine smote down Sir Bellangere,\nthat was the son of Sir Alisander Lorphelin. And by that time Sir Bors\nwas horsed; and then he came with Sir Ector and Sir Lionel, and they\nthree smote with their swords upon Sir Launcelot's helmet; and when\nhe felt their buffets, and his wound that was so grievous, then he\nthought to do what he might whiles he might endure; and then he gave\nSir Bors such a buffet that he made him to bow his head passing low;\nand therewithal he razed off his helm, and might have slain him, and so\npulled him down. And in the same manner of wise he served Sir Ector and\nSir Lionel, for he might have slain them. But when he saw their visages\nhis heart might not serve him thereto, but left them there lying. And\nthen after he hurled in among the thickest press of them all, and did\nthere marvellous deeds of arms that ever any man saw or heard speak\nof. And alway the good knight Sir Lavaine was with him; and there Sir\nLauncelot with his sword smote and pulled down moe [_more_] than thirty\nknights, and the most part were of the Round Table. And Sir Lavaine\ndid full well that day, for he smote down ten knights of the Round\nTable.\n\"Ah mercy, Jesu,\" said Sir Gawaine unto King Arthur, \"I marvel what\nknight he is with the red sleeve.\"\n\"Sir,\" said King Arthur, \"he will be known or he depart.\"\nAnd then the king let blow unto lodging, and the prize was given by\nheralds to the knight with the white shield and that bare the red\nsleeve. Then came the king with the hundred knights, the King of\nNorthgalis, and the King of Northumberland, and Sir Galahalt the haut\nprince, and said unto Sir Launcelot, \"Fair knight, God thee bless, for\nmuch have ye done this day for us, therefore we pray you that ye will\ncome with us that ye may receive the honor and the prize, as ye have\nworshipfully deserved it.\"\n\"My fair lords,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"wit ye well, if I have deserved\nthanks, I have sore bought it, for I am like never to escape with my\nlife; therefore I pray you that ye will suffer me to depart where me\nliketh, for I am sore hurt; I had liever [_rather_] to rest me than\nto be lord of all the world.\" And therewith he groaned piteously, and\nrode a great gallop away from them until he came to a wood side, and\nwhen he saw that he was from the field nigh a mile, that he was sure\nhe might not be seen, then said he with a high voice, \"O gentle knight\nSir Lavaine, help me that this truncheon were out of my side, for it\nsticketh so sore that it nigh slayeth me.\"\n\"O mine own lord,\" said Sir Lavaine, \"I would fain do that might\nplease you, but I dread me sore, and I draw out the truncheon, that ye\nshall be in peril of death.\"\n\"I charge you,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"as ye love me draw it out.\"\nAnd therewithal he descended from his horse, and right so did Sir\nLavaine, and forthwith Sir Lavaine drew the truncheon out of his side.\nAnd he gave a great shriek, and a marvellous grisly groan, and his\nblood brast [_burst_] out nigh a pint at once, that at last he sank\ndown, and so swooned pale and deadly.\n\"Alas,\" said Sir Lavaine, \"what shall I do?\"\nAnd then he turned Sir Launcelot into the wind, but so he lay there\nnigh half an hour as he had been dead. And so at the last Sir Launcelot\ncast up his eyes, and said, \"O Lavaine, help me that I were on my\nhorse, for here is fast by within this two mile a gentle hermit, that\nsometime was a full noble knight and a great lord of possessions; and\nfor great goodness he hath taken him to wilful poverty, and forsaken\nmany lands, and his name is Sir Baldwin of Brittany, and he is a\nfull noble surgeon, and a good leech. Now let see, help me up that I\nwere there. For ever my heart giveth me that I shall never die of my\ncousin-german's hands.\"\nAnd then with great pain Sir Lavaine holp him upon his horse; and then\nthey rode a great gallop together, and ever Sir Launcelot bled that it\nran down to the earth. And so by fortune they came to that hermitage,\nwhich was under a wood, and a great cliff on the other side, and a fair\nwater running under it. And then Sir Lavaine beat on the gate with the\nbutt of his spear, and cried fast, \"Let in, for Jesu's sake.\"\nAnd there came a fair child to them, and asked them what they would?\n\"Fair son,\" said Sir Lavaine, \"go and pray thy lord the hermit for\nGod's sake to let in here a knight that is full sore wounded, and this\nday tell thy lord that I saw him do more deeds of arms than ever I\nheard say that any man did.\"\nSo the child went in lightly, and then he brought the hermit, the which\nwas a passing good man. So when Sir Lavaine saw him, he prayed him for\nGod's sake of succor.\n\"What knight is he?\" said the hermit, \"is he of the house of King\nArthur or not?\"\n\"I wot not,\" said Sir Lavaine, \"what is he, nor what is his name, but\nwell I wot I saw him do marvellously this day, as of deeds of arms.\"\n\"On whose party was he?\" said the hermit.\n\"Sir,\" said Sir Lavaine, \"he was this day against King Arthur, and\nthere he won the prize of all the knights of the Round Table.\"\n\"I have seen the day,\" said the hermit, \"I would have loved him the\nworse because he was against my lord King Arthur, for sometime I was\none of the fellowship of the Round Table, but I thank God now I am\notherwise disposed. But where is he? let me see him.\"\nThen Sir Lavaine brought the hermit to him.\nAnd when the hermit beheld him as he sat leaning upon his saddle-bow,\never bleeding piteously, [then] alway the knight hermit thought that\nhe should know him, but he could not bring him to knowledge, because he\nwas so pale for bleeding.\n\"What knight are ye,\" said the hermit, \"and where were ye born??\n\"Fair lord,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"I am a stranger and a knight\nadventurous, that laboreth throughout many realms for to win worship.\"\nThen the hermit advised him better [_looked more closely_], and saw by\na wound on the cheek that he was Sir Launcelot.\n\"Alas!\" said the hermit, \"mine own lord, why hide ye your name from me?\nforsooth I ought to know you of right, for ye are the most noble knight\nof the world, for well I know you for Sir Launcelot.\"\n\"Sir,\" said he, \"sith ye know me, help me, and [_if_] ye may, for\nChrist's sake, for I would be out of this pain at once, either to death\nor to life.\"\n\"Have ye no doubt,\" said the hermit, \"ye shall live and fare right\nwell.\"\nAnd so the hermit called to him two of his servants; and so he and his\nservants bare him into the hermitage, and lightly unarmed him, and laid\nhim in his bed. And then anon the hermit stanched the blood; and then\nhe made him to drink good wine; so by that Sir Launcelot was right well\nrefreshed, and came to himself again. For in those days it was not the\nguise of hermits as it now is in these days, for there were no hermits\nin those days but that they had been men of worship and of prowess, and\nthose hermits held great households, and refreshed people that were in\ndistress.\nNow turn we unto King Arthur, and leave we Sir Launcelot in the\nhermitage.\nSo when the kings were come together on both parties, and the great\nfeast should be holden, King Arthur asked the King of Northgalis and\ntheir fellowship where was that knight that bare the red sleeve: \"Bring\nhim before me, that he may have his laud and honor and the prize, as it\nis right.\"\nThen spake Sir Galahalt the haut prince and the king with the hundred\nknights: \"We suppose that knight is mischieved, and that he is never\nlike to see you, nor none of us all, and that is the greatest pity that\never we wist of any knight.\"\n\"Alas,\" said King Arthur, \"how may this be? is he so hurt? What is his\nname?\"\n\"Truly,\" said they all, \"we know not his name, nor from whence he came,\nnor whither he would.\"\n\"Alas,\" said the king, \"these be to me the worst tidings that came to\nme this seven year: for I would not for all the lands I hold, to know\nand wit it were so that that noble knight were slain.\"\n\"Know ye him?\" said they all.\n\"As for that,\" said King Arthur, \"whether I know him or know him not,\nye shall not know for me what man he is, but Almighty Jesu send me good\ntidings of him.\"\nAnd so said they all.\n\"By my head,\" said Sir Gawaine, \"if it be so, that the good knight be\nso sore hurt, it is great damage and pity to all this land, for he is\none of the noblest knights that ever I saw in a field handle a spear\nor a sword; and if he may be found, I shall find him, for I am sure\nthat he is not far from this town.\"\n\"Bear you well,\" said King Arthur, \"that ye may find him, without that\nhe be in such a plight that he may not bestir himself.\"\n\"Jesu defend,\" said Sir Gawaine, \"but I shall know what he is and if I\nmay find him.\"\nRight so Sir Gawaine took a squire with him, and rode upon two hackneys\nall about Camelot within six or seven mile; but as he went so he came\nagain, and could hear no word of him. Then within two days King Arthur\nand all the fellowship returned to London again; and so as they rode by\nthe way, it happened Sir Gawaine at Astolat to lodge with Sir Bernard,\nwhereas Sir Launcelot was lodged. And so as Sir Gawaine was in his\nchamber for to take his rest, Sir Bernard the old baron came to him,\nand also his fair daughter Elaine, for to cheer him, and to ask him\nwhat tidings he knew, and who did best at the tournament at Winchester.\n\"So God help me,\" said Sir Gawaine, \"there were two knights which bare\ntwo white shields, but the one of them bare a red sleeve upon his head,\nand certainly he was one of the best knights that ever I saw joust in\nfield; for I dare make it good,\" said Sir Gawaine, \"that one knight\nwith the red sleeve smote down forty valiant knights of the Round\nTable, and his fellow did right well and right worshipfully.\"\n\"Now blessed be God,\" said the fair maid of Astolat, \"that the good\nknight sped so well, for he is the man in the world the which I first\nloved, and truly he shall be the last man that ever after I shall love.\"\n\"Now, fair maid,\" said Sir Gawaine, \"is that good knight your love?\"\n\"Certainly,\" said she; \"wit ye well he is my love.\"\n\"Then know ye his name?\" said Sir Gawaine.\n\"Nay, truly,\" said the maid, \"I know not his name, nor from whence he\ncame; but to say that I love him, I promise God and you that I love\nhim.\"\n\"How had ye knowledge of him first?\" said Sir Gawaine.\nThen she told him as ye have heard before, and how her father betook\n[_intrusted_] him her brother to do him service, and how her father\nlent him her brother Sir Tirre's shield, \"and here with me he left his\nown shield.\"\n\"For what cause did he so?\" said Sir Gawaine.\n\"For this cause,\" said the damsel, \"for his shield was too well known\namong many noble knights.\"\n\"Ah, fair damsel,\" said Sir Gawaine, \"please it you let me have a sight\nof that shield.\"\n\"Sir,\" said she, \"it is in my chamber covered with a case, and if it\nwill please you to come in with me ye shall see it.\"\n\"Not so,\" said Sir Bernard unto his daughter; \"let send for it.\"\nSo when the shield was come, Sir Gawaine took off the case, and when he\nbeheld that shield he knew anon that it was Sir Launcelot's shield, and\nhis own arms.\n\"Ah Jesu, mercy!\" said Sir Gawaine, \"now is my heart more heavier than\never it was before.\"\n\"Why?\" said the damsel Elaine.\n\"For I have a great cause,\" said Sir Gawaine; \"is that knight that\noweth that shield your love?\"\n\"Yea, truly,\" said she, \"my love he is, God would that I were his love.\"\n\"So God me speed,\" said Sir Gawaine, \"fair damsel, ye love the most\nhonorable knight of the world, and the man of most worship.\"\n\"So me thought ever,\" said the damsel, \"for never or that time for no\nknight that ever I saw loved I never none erst.\"\n\"God grant,\" said Sir Gawaine, \"that either of you may rejoice other,\nbut that is in a great adventure; but truly,\" said Sir Gawaine unto the\ndamsel, \"ye may say ye have a fair grace, for why I have known that\nnoble knight this fourteen years, and never or that day I or none other\nknight, I dare make it good, saw nor heard that ever he bare token or\nsign of no lady, gentlewoman, nor maid, at no jousts nor tournament;\nand therefore, fair maid,\" said Sir Gawaine, \"ye are much beholden to\ngive him thanks; but I dread me,\" said Sir Gawaine, \"ye shall never\nsee him in this world, and that is great pity as ever was of earthly\nknight.\"\n\"Alas!\" said she, \"how may this be? is he slain?\"\n\"I say not so,\" said Sir Gawaine, \"but wit ye well that he is\ngrievously wounded by all manner of signs, and by men's sight more\nlikelier to be dead than to be alive, and wit ye well he is the noble\nknight Sir Launcelot, for by his shield I know him.\"\n\"Alas!\" said the fair maid Elaine, \"how may it be? what was his hurt?\"\n\"Truly,\" said Sir Gawaine, \"the man in the world that loveth him best\nhurt him so; and I dare say, and that knight that hurt him knew the\nvery certainty that he had hurt Sir Launcelot, it would be the most\nsorrow that ever came to his heart.\"\n\"Now, fair father,\" said then Elaine, \"I require you give me leave to\nride and to seek him, or else I wot well I shall go out of my mind, for\nI shall never stint [_stop_] till that I find him and my brother Sir\nLavaine.\"\n\"Do as it liketh you,\" said her father, \"for me right sore repenteth of\nthe hurt of that noble knight.\"\nSo the king and all came to London, and there Sir Gawaine openly\ndisclosed to all the court that it was Sir Launcelot that jousted best.\nSo as the fair maid Elaine came to Winchester, she sought there all\nabout, and by fortune Sir Lavaine was ridden to play him and to enchafe\nhis horse. And anon, as fair Elaine saw him, she knew him, and then she\ncried aloud unto him; and when he heard her, anon he came unto her. And\nthen she asked her brother, \"How fareth my lord Sir Launcelot?\"\n\"Who told you, sister, that my lord's name was Sir Launcelot?\"\nThen she told him how Sir Gawaine by his shield knew him. So they rode\ntogether till they came unto the hermitage, and anon she alighted; so\nSir Lavaine brought her unto Sir Launcelot. And when she saw him lie so\nsick and pale in his bed, she might not speak, but suddenly she fell\nunto the ground in a swoon, and there she lay a great while. And when\nshe was relieved, she sighed and said, \"My lord Sir Launcelot, alas!\nwhy go ye in this plight?\" and then she swooned again. And then Sir\nLauncelot prayed Sir Lavaine to take her up and to bring her to him.\nAnd when she came to herself, Sir Launcelot kissed her, and said, \"Fair\nmaiden, why fare ye thus? Ye put me to pain; wherefore make ye no more\nsuch cheer for, and ye be come to comfort me, ye be right welcome, and\nof this little hurt that I have, I shall be right hastily whole, by the\ngrace of God. But I marvel,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"who told you my name.\"\nThen the fair maiden told him all how Sir Gawaine was lodged with her\nfather. \"And there by your shield he discovered your name.\"\n\"Alas,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"that me repenteth, that my name is known,\nfor I am sure it will turn unto anger.\"\nSo this maiden, Elaine, never went from Sir Launcelot, but watched him\nday and night and did such attendance to him that there was never woman\ndid more kindlier for man than she did. Then Sir Launcelot prayed Sir\nLavaine to make espies in Winchester for Sir Bors if he came there, and\ntold him by what token he should know him by a wound in his forehead.\n\"For well I am sure,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"that Sir Bors will seek me,\nfor he is the good knight that hurt me.\"\nNow turn we unto Sir Bors de Ganis, that came to Winchester to seek\nafter his cousin Sir Launcelot. And so when he came to Winchester, anon\nthere were men that Sir Lavaine had made to lie in watch for such a\nman, and anon Sir Lavaine had warning thereof. And then Sir Lavaine\ncame to Winchester and found Sir Bors. And so they departed, and came\nunto the hermitage where Sir Launcelot was; and when Sir Bors saw Sir\nLauncelot lie in his bed all pale and discolored, anon Sir Bors lost\nhis countenance, and for kindness and for pity he might not speak, but\nwept full tenderly a great while. And then when he might speak, he said\nunto him thus, \"Alas! that ever such a caitiff knight as I am should\nhave power by unhappiness to hurt the most noblest knight of the world.\nWhere I so shamefully set upon you and overcharged you, and where ye\nmight have slain me, ye saved me, and so did not I: for I, and your\nblood, did to you our uttermost I marvel that my heart or my blood\nwould serve me, wherefore, my lord Sir Launcelot, I ask your mercy.\"\n\"Fair cousin,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"I would with pride have overcome\nyou all, and there in my pride I was near slain, and that was in mine\nown default, for I might have given you warning of my being there.\nTherefore, fair cousin,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"let this speech overpass,\nand all shall be welcome that God sendeth; and let us leave off this\nmatter, and let us speak of some rejoicing; for this that is done may\nnot be undone, and let us find a remedy how soon that I may be whole.\"\nAnd so upon a day they took their horses and took Elaine la Blanche\nwith them; and when they came to Astolat, there they were well lodged\nand had great cheer of Sir Bernard the old baron and of Sir Tirre his\nson. And so on the morrow, when Sir Launcelot should depart, fair\nElaine brought her father with her and her two brethren Sir Tirre and\nSir Lavaine, and thus she said:\n\"My lord Sir Launcelot, now I see that ye will depart; fair and\ncourteous knight, have mercy upon me, and suffer me not to die for your\nlove.\"\n\"What would ye that I did?\" said Sir Launcelot.\n\"I would have you unto my husband,\" said the maid Elaine.\n\"Fair damsel, I thank you,\" said Sir Launcelot; \"but certainly,\" said\nhe, \"I cast me never to be married.\"\n\"Alas!\" said she, \"then must I needs die for your love.\"\n\"Ye shall not,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"for wit ye well, fair damsel, that\nI might have been married and I had would, but I never applied me to be\nmarried; but because, fair damsel, that ye will love me as ye say ye\ndo, I will, for your good love and kindness, show you some goodness,\nand that is this: that wheresoever ye will set your heart upon some\ngood knight that will wed you, I shall give you together a thousand\npound yearly to you and to your heirs; thus much will I give you, fair\nmaid, for your kindness, and alway while I live to be your own knight.\"\n\"Of all this,\" said the damsel, \"I will none, for, but if you will wed\nme, wit you well, Sir Launcelot, my good days are done.\"\n\"Fair damsel,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"of [this] ye must pardon me.\"\nThen she shrieked shrilly, and fell down in a swoon; and then women\nbare her into her chamber, and there she made overmuch sorrow. And then\nSir Launcelot would depart; and there he asked Sir Lavaine what he\nwould do.\n\"What should I do,\" said Sir Lavaine, \"but follow you, but if ye drive\nme from you, or command me to go from you?\"\nThen came Sir Bernard to Sir Launcelot, and said to him, \"I cannot see\nbut that my daughter Elaine will die for your sake.\"\n\"I may not do withal,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"for that me sore repenteth;\nfor I report me to yourself that my proffer is fair, and me repenteth,\"\nsaid Sir Launcelot, \"that she loveth me as she doth: I was never the\ncauser of it, for I report me to your son, I early nor late proffered\nher bounty nor fair behests; and I am right heavy of her distress, for\nshe is a full fair maiden, good, and gentle, and well taught.\"\n\"Father,\" said Sir Lavaine, \"she doth as I do, for since I first saw my\nlord Sir Launcelot I could never depart from him, nor nought I will and\nI may follow him.\"\nThen Sir Launcelot took his leave, and so they departed, and came\nunto Winchester. And when King Arthur wist that Sir Launcelot was\ncome, whole and sound, the king made great joy of him, and so did Sir\nGawaine, and all the knights of the Round Table except Sir Agravaine\nand Sir Mordred.\nNow speak we of the fair maiden of Astolat, that made such sorrow day\nand night, that she never slept, eat, nor drank; and ever she made\nher complaint unto Sir Launcelot. So when she had thus endured a ten\ndays, that she feebled so that she must needs pass out of this world,\nthen she shrived her clean, and received her Creator [_took the Holy\nCommunion_]. Then her ghostly father bade her leave such thoughts.\nThen she said, \"Why should I leave such thoughts? am I not an earthly\nwoman? and all the while the breath is in my body I may complain me,\nfor my belief is I do none offence though I love an earthly man, and I\ntake God to my record I never loved none but Sir Launcelot du Lake, nor\nnever shall. For our sweet Saviour Jesu Christ,\" said the maiden, \"I\ntake thee to record I was never greater offender against thy laws but\nthat I loved this noble knight Sir Launcelot out of all measure, and of\nmyself, good Lord, I might not withstand the fervent love wherefore I\nhave my death.\"\nAnd then she called her father Sir Bernard, and her brother Sir Tirre,\nand heartily she prayed her father that her brother might write a\nletter like as she would indite it. And so her father granted her. And\nwhen the letter was written word by word like as she had devised, then\nshe prayed her father that she might be watched until she were dead,\n\"And while my body is whole, let this letter be put into my right hand,\nand my hand bound fast with the letter until that I be cold, and let me\nbe put in a fair bed with all the richest clothes that I have about me,\nand so let my bed and all my rich clothes be laid with me in a chariot\nto the next place whereas the Thames is, and there let me be put in a\nbarge, and but one man with me, such as ye trust, to steer me thither,\nand that my barge be covered with black samite over and over. Thus,\nfather, I beseech you let me be done.\"\nSo her father granted her faithfully that all this thing should be done\nlike as she had devised. Then her father and her brother made great\ndole, for, when this was done, anon she died. And so when she was dead,\nthe corpse and the bed and all was led the next day unto the Thames,\nand there a man and the corpse and all were put in a barge on the\nThames, and so the man steered the barge to Westminster, and there he\nrowed a great while to and fro or any man espied it.\nSo by fortune King Arthur and Queen Guenever were speaking together at\na window; and so as they looked into the Thames, they espied the black\nbarge, and had marvel what it might mean.\nThen the king called Sir Kay, and showed him it.\n\"Sir,\" said Sir Kay, \"wit ye well that there is some new tidings.\"\n\"Go ye thither,\" said the king unto Sir Kay, \"and take with you Sir\nBrandiles and Sir Agravaine, and bring me ready word what is there.\"\nThen these three knights departed, and came to the barge, and went in;\nand there they found the fairest corpse lying in a rich bed that ever\nthey saw, and a poor man sitting in the end of the barge, and no word\nwould he speak. So these three knights returned unto the king again,\nand told him what they had found.\n\"That fair corpse will I see,\" said King Arthur.\nAnd then the king took the queen by the hand and went thither. Then the\nking made the barge to be holden fast; and then the king and the queen\nwent in, with certain knights with them, and there they saw a fair\ngentlewoman lying in a rich bed, covered unto her middle with many rich\nclothes, and all was of cloth of gold; and she lay as though she had\nsmiled. Then the queen espied the letter in the right hand, and told\nthe king thereof. Then the king took it in his hand, and said, \"Now I\nam sure this letter will tell what she was, and why she is come hither.\"\nThen the king and the queen went out of the barge; and the king\ncommanded certain men to wait upon the barge; and so when the king was\ncome within his chamber, he called many knights about him, and said\nthat he would wit openly what was written within that letter. Then the\nking brake it, and made a clerk to read it; and this was the intent of\nthe letter: \"Most noble knight, Sir Launcelot, now hath death made us\ntwo at debate for your love; I was your lover, that men called the fair\nmaid of Astolat; therefore unto all ladies I make my moan; yet pray for\nmy soul, and bury me at the least, and offer ye my mass-penny. This is\nmy last request. Pray for my soul, Sir Launcelot, as thou art a knight\npeerless.\"\nThis was all the substance in the letter. And when it was read, the\nking, the queen, and all the knights wept for pity of the doleful\ncomplaints. Then was Sir Launcelot sent for. And when he was come, King\nArthur made the letter to be read to him; and when Sir Launcelot heard\nit word by word, he said, \"My lord Arthur, wit ye well I am right heavy\nof the death of this fair damsel. God knoweth I was never causer of her\ndeath by my willing, and that will I report me to her own brother;\nhere he is, Sir Lavaine. I will not say nay, but that she was both fair\nand good, and much I was beholden unto her, but she loved me out of\nmeasure.\"\n\"Ye might have showed her,\" said the queen, \"some bounty and\ngentleness, that might have preserved her life.\"\n\"Madam,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"she would none other way be answered, but\nthat she would be my wife, and of [this] I would not grant her; but I\nproffered her, for her good love that she showed me, a thousand pound\nyearly to her and to her heirs, and to wed any manner knight that she\ncould find best to love in her heart. For, madam,\" said Sir Launcelot,\n\"I love not to be constrained to love; for love must arise of the\nheart, and not by no constraint.\"\n\"That is truth,\" said the king, and many knights: \"love is free in\nhimself, and never will be bounden; for where he is bounden he looseth\nhimself.\"\nThen said the king unto Sir Launcelot, \"It will be your worship that ye\noversee that she be buried worshipfully.\"\n\"Sir,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"that shall be done as I can best devise.\"\nAnd so many knights went thither to behold the fair dead maid. And\non the morrow she was richly buried; and Sir Launcelot offered her\nmass-penny, and all the knights of the Round Table that were there at\nthat time offered with Sir Launcelot. And then when all was done, the\npoor man went again with the barge.\n[Footnote 20: This event--the death of King Arthur--gave name to the\nwhole series of stories with some of the old editors: Caxton, for\nexample, the first printer of Sir Thomas Malory's book, issued it under\nthe title \"La Mort Darthur,\" that is, _la mort_ (French, _the death_)\n_d'Arthur_ (_of Arthur_).]\n[But ever in these days the enemies of Sir Launcelot and of Queen\nGuenever lay in wait to do them harm, in especial Sir Mordred and Sir\nAgravaine. So it befell that the queen was again appealed of treason\nand was condemned to the fire, while Sir Launcelot was away. But when\nSir Launcelot heard thereof, he came suddenly with his kindred and\nattacked them that guarded about the queen whereas she stood at the\nstake about to be burnt.]\nThen was there spurring and plucking up of horses and right so they\ncame to the fire, and who that stood against them there they were\nslain, there might none withstand Sir Launcelot. And in this rashing\nand hurling, as Sir Launcelot thrang [_rushed_] here and there, it\nmishappened him to slay Sir Gaheris and the noble knight Sir Gareth,\nfor they were unarmed and unaware; for Sir Launcelot smote Sir Gareth\nand Sir Gaheris upon the brain-pans, wherethrough they were both slain\nin the field; howbeit in very truth Sir Launcelot saw them not, and\nso were they found dead among the thickest of the press. Then when\nSir Launcelot had thus done, and had put them to flight all they\nthat would withstand him, then he rode straight unto Queen Guenever,\nand made a kirtle and a gown to be cast upon her, and then he made\nher to be set behind him, and prayed her to be of good cheer. Wit you\nwell that the queen was glad when she escaped from death; and then\nshe thanked God and Sir Launcelot. And so he rode his way with the\nqueen unto Joyous Gard, and there he kept her as a noble knight should\ndo, and many great lords and some kings sent Sir Launcelot many good\nknights; and many noble knights drew unto Sir Launcelot. When this was\nknown openly, that King Arthur and Sir Launcelot were at debate, many\nknights were glad of their debate, and many knights were sorry of their\ndebate.\n[Illustration: _He rode his way with the queen unto Joyous Gard_]\n[Then King Arthur made moan out of measure, for he knew that the Round\nTable was foredoomed and that great wars must come of these matters.]\n\"And now I dare say,\" said the king, \"that there was never Christian\nking that held such a fellowship together. Alas! that ever Sir\nLauncelot and I should be at debate. Ah! Agravaine, Agravaine,\" said\nthe king, \"Jesu forgive it thy soul! for thine evil will that thou and\nthy brother Sir Mordred had unto Sir Launcelot hath caused all this\nsorrow.\"\nAnd ever among these complaints King Arthur wept and swooned. Then\nthere came one unto Sir Gawaine, and told him how the queen was led\naway with Sir Launcelot, and nigh twenty-four knights slain.\n\"Truly,\" said the man, \"your two brethren, Sir Gareth and Sir Gaheris,\nbe slain.\"\n\"Who slew [them]?\" said Sir Gawaine.\n\"Sir,\" said the man, \"Sir Launcelot slew them both.\"\n\"Alas!\" said Sir Gawaine, \"now is all my joy gone.\"\nAnd then he fell down in a swoon, and long he lay there as he had\nbeen dead; and then when he arose out of his swoon, he cried out so\nruefully, and said, \"Alas!\" And right so Sir Gawaine ran unto the king,\ncrying and weeping: \"Oh! King Arthur mine uncle, my good brother Sir\nGaheris is slain, and my brother Sir Gareth also, the which were two\nnoble knights.\"\n\"I know not how it was,\" said the king, \"but so it is said, Sir\nLauncelot slew them both in the thickest of the press, and knew them\nnot.\"\n[Then fell Sir Gawaine into bitter hatred against Sir Launcelot and\nnever stinted therein till the day of his death.]\n\"My most gracious lord and my uncle,\" said Sir Gawaine, \"wit you well\nthat now I shall make you a promise, the which I shall hold by my\nknighthood, that from this day I shall never fail Sir Launcelot, until\nthe one of us hath slain the other; and therefore I require you, my\nlord and my king, dress you unto the war, for wit you well I shall be\nrevenged upon Sir Launcelot. For I promise unto God,\" said Sir Gawaine,\n\"for the death of my brother Sir Gareth I shall seek Sir Launcelot\nthroughout seven kings' realms but I shall slay him, or else he shall\nslay me.\"\n\"Ye shall not need to seek him so far,\" said the king, \"for, as I hear\nsay, Sir Launcelot will abide me and you in the Joyous Gard, and much\npeople draweth unto him as I hear say.\"\nThen came King Arthur and Sir Gawaine with an huge host, and laid a\nsiege about Joyous Gard, both at the town and at the castle; and there\nthey made full strong war on both parties. But in no wise Sir Launcelot\nwould not ride out nor go out of the castle of a long time, neither he\nwould suffer none of his good knights to issue out, neither none of the\ntown nor of the castle, until fifteen weeks were past.\nSo it befell on a day in harvest that Sir Launcelot looked over the\nwalls and spake on high to King Arthur and Sir Gawaine: \"My lords both,\nwit ye well it is in vain that ye labor at this siege, for here win ye\nno worship but dishonor.\"\n\"Come forth,\" said King Arthur unto Sir Launcelot, \"and thou darest,\nand I promise thee I shall meet thee in the midst of the field.\"\n\"God defend me,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"that ever I should encounter with\nthe most noble king that made me knight.\"\n\"Fie upon thy fair language,\" said the king, \"for wit you well, and\ntrust it, I am thy mortal foe, and ever will to my death day, for thou\nhast slain my good knights and full noble men of my blood, that I shall\nnever recover again: also thou hast dishonored my queen, and holden her\nmany winters, and like a traitor taken her from me by force.\"\n\"My most noble lord and king,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"ye may say what ye\nwill, for ye wot well with yourself I will not strive, but there as ye\nsay I have slain your good knights, I wot well that I have done so, and\nthat me sore repenteth, but I was enforced to do battle with them, in\nsaving of my life, or else I must have suffered them to have slain me.\nAnd as for my lady Queen Guenever, ofttimes, my lord, ye have consented\nthat she should be burnt and destroyed in your heat, and then it\nfortuned me to do battle for her, and or I departed from her adversary\nthey confessed their untruth, and she full worshipfully excused. And\nat such times, my lord Arthur,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"ye loved me, and\nthanked me when I saved your queen from the fire, and then ye promised\nme for ever to be my good lord, and now me thinketh ye reward me full\nill. For sithence I have done battles for your queen in other quarrels\nthan in mine own, me seemeth now I had more right to do battle for her\nin a right quarrel. And therefore my good and gracious lord,\" said Sir\nLauncelot, \"take your queen unto your good grace, for she is both fair,\ntrue, and good.\"\n\"Fie on thee, false recreant knight,\" said Sir Gawaine, \"I let thee to\nwit that my lord mine uncle King Arthur shall have his queen and thee\nmaugre [_in spite of_] thy visage, and slay you both whereas it shall\nplease him.\"\n\"It may well be,\" said Sir Launcelot; \"but wit ye well, my lord Sir\nGawaine, and me list to come out of this castle, ye should win me and\nthe queen more harder than ever ye won a strong battle.\"\n\"Fie upon thy proud words,\" said Sir Gawaine, \"as for my lady the\nqueen, I will never say of her shame. Ah! thou false recreant knight,\"\nsaid Sir Gawaine, \"what cause hadst thou to slay my good brother Sir\nGareth, that loved thee more than all thy kin? Alas! thou madest him\nknight with thine own hands, why slewest thou him that loved thee so\nwell?\"\n\"For to excuse me,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"it helpeth me not. But, by\nJesu,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"and by the faith that I owe unto the high\norder of knighthood, I should with as good a will have slain my nephew\nSir Bors de Ganis at that time. But alas! that ever I was so unhappy,\"\nsaid Sir Launcelot, \"that I had not seen Sir Gareth and Sir Gaheris.\"\n\"Thou liest, false recreant knight,\" said Sir Gawaine, \"thou slewest\nhim in despite of me, and therefore wit thou well that I shall make war\nunto thee all the while that I may live.\"\n\"That me sore repenteth,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"for well I understand\nthat it helpeth me not to seek for none accordment whiles that ye, Sir\nGawaine, are so mischievously set; and if ye were not, I would not\ndoubt to have the good grace of my lord King Arthur.\"\n[Then Sir Launcelot's kinsmen besought him that he would go out and do\nbattle for the slanders that Sir Gawaine and his knights did put upon\nhim.]\n\"Alas!\" said Sir Launcelot, \"for to ride out of this castle and do\nbattle, I am full loth to do it.\"\nThen Sir Launcelot spake on high unto King Arthur and Sir Gawaine:\n\"My lords, I require you and beseech you, sith I am thus required and\nconjured to ride into the field, that neither you, my lord King Arthur,\nnor you, Sir Gawaine, come not into the field.\"\n\"What shall we do then?\" said Sir Gawaine; \"is not this the king's\nquarrel with thee to fight? and it is my quarrel to fight with thee,\nSir Launcelot, because of the death of my brother Sir Gareth.\"\n\"Then must I needs unto battle,\" said Sir Launcelot.\nAnd always Sir Launcelot charged all his knights in any wise to save\nKing Arthur and Sir Gawaine.\nAnd on the morrow at underne [_nine o'clock_] King Arthur was ready in\nthe field with three great hosts. And then Sir Launcelot's fellowship\ncame out at three gates in full good array, and Sir Lionel came in the\nforemost battle, and Sir Launcelot came in the middle battle, and Sir\nBors came out at the third gate.\n[Then was there spurring and thrusting and many strokes.]\nAnd ever King Arthur was nigh about Sir Launcelot to have slain him,\nand Sir Launcelot suffered him, and would not strike again. So Sir Bors\nencountered with King Arthur, and there with a spear Sir Bors smote him\ndown; and so he alighted and drew his sword, and said to Sir Launcelot,\n\"Shall I make an end of this war?\" and that he meant to have slain King\nArthur.\n\"Not so hardy,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"upon pain of thy head, that thou\ntouch him no more: for I will never see that most noble king, that made\nme knight, neither slain ne shamed.\"\nAnd therewithal Sir Launcelot alighted off his horse, and took up the\nking and horsed him again, and said thus, \"My lord Arthur, for God's\nlove stint this strife.\"\nAnd when King Arthur was again on horseback, he looked upon Sir\nLauncelot, and then the tears burst out of his eyes thinking on the\ngreat courtesy that was in Sir Launcelot more than in any other man.\nAnd therewith the king rode forth his way, and might no longer behold\nhim, and said to himself, \"Alas! that ever this war began.\" And then\neither parties of the battles withdrew them for to rest them, and\nburied the dead bodies, and to the wounded men they laid soft salves;\nand thus they endured that night till on the morrow. And on the morrow,\nby underne, they made them ready to do battle, and then Sir Bors\nled them forward. So on the morrow came Sir Gawaine as grim as any\nbear, with a spear in his hand. And when Sir Bors saw him [they rode\nfuriously together and either gave the other a great wound]. Then Sir\nLauncelot rescued Sir Bors, and sent him into the castle; but neither\nSir Gawaine nor Sir Bors died not of their wounds, for they were both\nholpen.\n\"Alas!\" said Sir Launcelot, \"I have no heart to fight against my lord\nKing Arthur; for always me seemeth I do not as I ought to do.\"\n\"My lord,\" said Sir Palamides, \"though ye spare them all this day, they\nwill never con you thank; and if they may get you at any vantage, ye\nare but dead.\"\nSo then Sir Launcelot understood well that they told him truth, and\nthen he strained himself more. And then within a little while, by\neven-song time, Sir Launcelot and his party better stood, for their\nhorses went in blood past the fetlocks, there was so much people\nslain. And then, for pity, Sir Launcelot withheld his knights, and\nsuffered King Arthur's party for to withdraw them one side. And then\nSir Launcelot's party withdrew them into his castle, and either party\nburied the dead bodies and put salve unto the wounded men. So when Sir\nGawaine was hurt, they on King Arthur's party were not so orgulous\n[_arrogantly eager_] as they were beforehand to do battle. Of this war\nwas noised through all christendom, and at the last it was noised afore\nthe Pope; and he considering the great goodness of King Arthur [let\nsend letters to Sir Launcelot how that he should bring the queen back\nto King Arthur. And so, when King Arthur had carried his host back to\nhis own country, came Sir Launcelot to King Arthur's court and gave him\nagain his queen].\n[And then while Sir Launcelot was at court he strove hard to be\naccorded with Sir Gawaine, for he bore no malice neither to Sir Gawaine\nnor to King Arthur. But Sir Gawaine would not be accorded, and ever let\nKing Arthur from being accorded, that would right gladly have received\nagain his old faithful knight, Sir Launcelot. And ever more bitter grew\nSir Gawaine: till at the last he said to Sir Launcelot:] \"In this land\nthou shalt not abide past fifteen days, such warning I give thee. So\nthe king and we were consented and accorded or thou camest hither; and\nelse,\" said Sir Gawaine, \"wit thou well that thou shouldst not have\ncome hither, but if it were maugre thy head. And if that it were not\nfor the Pope's commandment, I should do battle with my body against thy\nbody, and prove it unto thee that thou hast been false unto mine uncle\nKing Arthur and to me both, and that shall I prove upon thy body when\nthou art departed from hence, wheresoever I find thee.\"\nThen Sir Launcelot sighed, and therewith the tears fell on his cheeks,\nand then he said these words: \"Alas! most noble Christian realm,\nwhom I have loved above all other realms, and in thee have I gotten\na great part of my worship, and now I shall depart in this wise.\nTruly me repenteth that ever I came into this realm, that should be\nthus shamefully banished undeserved and causeless. But fortune is so\nvariable and the wheel so mutable, there is no constant abiding, and\nthat may be proved by many old chronicles of noble Hector, and Troilus,\nand Alisander the mighty conqueror, and many other moe [_more_]; when\nthey were most in their royalty, they alighted lowest. And so fareth\nby me,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"for in this realm I have had worship, and\nby me and mine all the whole Round Table hath been increased, more in\nworship by me and my blood than by any other. And therefore wit you\nwell, Sir Gawaine, I may live as well upon my lands as any knight that\nis here. And if ye, my most renowned king, will come upon my lands with\nyour nephew Sir Gawaine for to war upon me, I must endure you as well\nas I may; but as for you Sir Gawaine, if that ye come there, I pray you\ncharge me not with treason nor felony, for, and ye do, I must answer\nyou.\"\n\"Do thou thy best,\" said Sir Gawaine, \"therefore hie thee fast that\nthou were gone, and wit thou well we shall soon come after, and break\nthe strongest castle that thou hast upon thy head.\"\n\"That shall not need,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"for and I were as orgulous\nset as ye are, wit ye well I should meet with you in midst of the\nfield.\"\n\"Make thou no more language,\" said Sir Gawaine, \"but deliver the queen\nfrom thee, and pike thee lightly out of this court.\"\nAnd then Sir Launcelot said unto Queen Guenever, in hearing of the\nking and them all, \"Madam, now I must depart from you and this noble\nfellowship for ever; and sithen it is so, I beseech you to pray for\nme, and say me well, and if ye be hard bestead by any false tongues,\nlightly, my lady, let send me word, and if any knight's hands may\ndeliver you by battle, I shall deliver you.\"\nAnd therewithal Sir Launcelot kissed the queen, and then he said all\nopenly, \"Now let see what he be in this place, that dare say the queen\nis not true unto my lord Arthur: let see who will speak, and he dare\nspeak.\"\nAnd therewith he brought the queen to the king, and then Sir Launcelot\ntook his leave and departed; and there was neither king, duke ne earl,\nbaron ne knight, lady nor gentlewoman, but all they wept as people out\nof their mind, except Sir Gawaine; and when the noble Sir Launcelot\ntook his horse, to ride out of Carlisle, there was sobbing and weeping\nfor pure dole of his departing; and so he took his way unto Joyous\nGard. And afterwards he called it Dolorous Gard. And thus Sir Launcelot\ndeparted from the court for ever.\nSo leave we Sir Launcelot in his lands, and his noble knights with\nhim, and return we again unto King Arthur and Sir Gawaine, that made a\ngreat host ready, to the number of threescore thousand, and all thing\nwas ready for their shipping to pass over the sea. And so they shipped\nat Cardiff. And there King Arthur made Sir Mordred chief ruler of all\nEngland; and also he put Queen Guenever under his governance. And so\nKing Arthur passed over the sea, and landed upon Sir Launcelot's land,\nand there he burnt and wasted, through the vengeance of Sir Gawaine,\nall that they might overrun.\nThen spake King Bagdemagus unto Sir Launcelot, \"Sir, your courtesy will\nshend [_ruin_] us all, and your courtesy hath caused all this sorrow;\nfor and they thus override our lands, they shall by process of time\nbring us all to nought, whilst we thus hide us in holes.\"\nThen said the good knight Sir Galihud to Sir Launcelot, \"Sir, here be\nknights come of kings' blood, that will not long droop and they were\nwithout the walls; therefore give us leave, as we are knights, to meet\nthem in the field, and we shall slay them, that they shall curse the\ntime that ever they came into this country.\"\nThen spake the seven brethren of North Wales, and they were seven noble\nknights as a man might seek in seven kings' lands, or he might find\nsuch seven knights, then they spake all with one voice, \"Sir Launcelot,\nfor Christ's sake let us ride out with Sir Galihud, for we been never\nwont to cower in castles nor in towns.\"\nThen speake Sir Launcelot, which was master and governor of them all,\n\"My fair lords, howbeit we will as at this time keep our strong walls,\nand I shall send a messenger unto my lord King Arthur, desiring him to\ntake a treaty; for better is peace than always war.\"\nSo Sir Launcelot sent forth a damsel and a dwarf with her, requiring\nKing Arthur to leave his war upon his lands. And so she started upon a\npalfrey, and the dwarf ran by her side.\n[But Sir Gawaine would have no peace nor treaties, and sent vile\nmessages back to Sir Launcelot, and presently led the host to Sir\nLauncelot's castle.]\nSo thus they endured well half a year, and much slaughter of people\nthere was on both parties. Then it befell upon a day that Sir Gawaine\ncame before the gates armed at all pieces upon a great courser, with a\ngreat spear in his hand; and then he cried with a loud voice, \"Where\nart thou now, thou false traitor Sir Launcelot? why dost thou hide\nthyself within holes and walls like a coward? look out now, thou false\ntraitor knight, and here I shall revenge upon thy body the death of my\nthree brethren.\"\nAll this language heard Sir Launcelot, and his kin every deal; and\nthen his knights drew about him, and they said all at once unto Sir\nLauncelot, \"Sir Launcelot, now ye must defend you like a knight, or\nelse ye be shamed for ever; for now ye be called upon treason, it is\ntime for you to stir, for ye have slept over long, and suffered over\nmuch.\"\n\"So God me help,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"I am right heavy of Sir\nGawaine's words, for now he chargeth me with a great charge; and\ntherefore I wot it as well as ye that I must defend me, or else to be a\nrecreant knight.\"\nThen Sir Launcelot commanded to saddle his strongest horse, and bade\nfetch his armor, and bring all unto the gate of the tower. And then Sir\nLauncelot spake on high unto King Arthur, and said, \"My lord and noble\nking which made me knight, wit you well that I am right heavy for your\nsake, that ye thus sue upon me, and always I forbare you; for, and I\nwould have been revengeable, I might have met you in the midst of the\nfield, and there to have made your boldest knights full tame; and now I\nhave forborne you half a year, and have suffered you and Sir Gawaine to\ndo what ye would, and now I may endure it no longer; now must I needs\ndefend myself, in so much as Sir Gawaine hath appealed me of treason,\nthe which is greatly against my will, that ever I should fight against\nany of your blood; but now I may not forsake it, I am driven thereto as\na beast to a bay.\"\nAnd so the covenant was made, there should no man nigh them, nor deal\nwith them, till the one were dead or yielden.\nThen Sir Gawaine and Sir Launcelot departed a great way in sunder, and\nthen they came together with all their horses' might as they might\nrun, and either smote other in midst of their shields, but the knights\nwere so strong, and their spears so big, that their horses might not\nendure their buffets, and so the horses fell to the earth. And then\nthey avoided their horses, and dressed their shields afore them. Then\nthey stood together, and gave many sad strokes on divers places of\ntheir bodies, that the blood brast out on many sides and places. Then\nhad Sir Gawaine such a grace and gift that an holy man had given to\nhim, that every day in the year, from underne till high noon, his might\nincreased those three hours as much as thrice his strength, and that\ncaused Sir Gawaine to win great honor. [And] there were but few knights\nthat time living that knew this advantage that Sir Gawaine had, but\nKing Arthur all only. Thus Sir Launcelot fought with Sir Gawaine, and\nwhen Sir Launcelot felt his might evermore increase, Sir Launcelot\nwondered, and dread him sore to be shamed. For Sir Launcelot wend,\nwhen he felt Sir Gawaine double his strength, that he had been a fiend\nand no earthly man, wherefore Sir Launcelot traced and traversed,\nand covered himself with his shield, and kept his might during three\nhours: and that while Sir Gawaine gave him many sad brunts and many sad\nstrokes, that all the knights that beheld Sir Launcelot marvelled how\nhe might endure him, but full little understood they that travail that\nSir Launcelot had for to endure him. And then when it was past noon,\nSir Gawaine had no more but his own might. Then Sir Launcelot felt him\nso come down; then he stretched him up, and stood near Sir Gawaine, and\nsaid thus, \"My lord Sir Gawaine, now I feel ye have done, now my lord\nSir Gawaine, I must do my part, for many great and grievous strokes I\nhave endured you this day with great pain.\"\nThen Sir Launcelot doubled his strokes, and gave Sir Gawaine such a\nbuffet on the helmet, that he fell down on his side, and Sir Launcelot\nwithdrew him from him.\n\"Why withdrawest thou thee?\" said Sir Gawaine; \"now turn again, false\ntraitor knight, and slay me; for and thou leave me thus, when I am\nwhole I shall do battle with thee again.\"\n\"Sir, I shall endure you by the grace of God,\" said Sir Launcelot; \"but\nwit you well, Sir Gawaine, I will never smite a felled knight.\"\nAnd so Sir Launcelot went into the city, and Sir Gawaine was borne into\none of King Arthur's pavilions; and anon there was leeches brought to\nhim, which searched his wound, and salved it with soft ointments. And\nthen Sir Launcelot said, \"Now have good day, my lord the king, for wit\nye well ye shall win no worship at these walls; and if I would bring\nout my knights, there should many a man die. Therefore, my lord King\nArthur, remember you of old kindness, and howsoever I fare, Jesu be\nyour guide in all places.\"\n\"Alas,\" said the king, \"that ever this unhappy war was begun, for ever\nSir Launcelot forbeareth me in all places, and in likewise my kin, and\nthat is seen well this day by my nephew Sir Gawaine.\"\nThen King Arthur fell sick for sorrow of Sir Gawaine, that he was sore\nhurt, and because of the war betwixt him and Sir Launcelot. So then\nthey on King Arthur's party kept the siege with little war and small\nforce, and they within kept their walls, and defended them when need\nwas. Thus Sir Gawaine lay sick about three weeks in his tents, with\nall manner of leechcraft that might be had; and as soon as Sir Gawaine\nmight go and ride, he armed him at all points, and started upon a\ncourser, and gat a spear in his hand, and so he came riding afore the\nchief gate of Benwick, and there he cried on high, \"Where art thou, Sir\nLauncelot? come forth, thou false traitor knight, and recreant, for I\nam here, Sir Gawaine, will prove this that I say on thee.\"\nAll this language Sir Launcelot heard, and then he said thus, \"Sir\nGawaine, me repenteth of your foul saying, that ye will not cease of\nyour language, for wit ye well, Sir Gawaine, I know your might, and all\nthat ye may do, and well ye wot, Sir Gawaine, ye may not greatly hurt\nme.\"\n\"Come down, traitor knight,\" said he, \"and make it good the contrary\nwith thy hands; for it mishapped me the last battle to be hurt of thy\nhands, therefore wit thou well, that I am come this day to make amends,\nfor I ween this day to lay thee as low as thou laidest me.\"\n\"Defend me,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"that ever I be so far in your danger\nas ye have been in mine, for then my days were done. But Sir Gawaine,\"\nsaid Sir Launcelot, \"ye shall not think that I tarry long; but sithence\nthat ye so unknightly call me of treason, ye shall have both your hands\nfull of me.\"\nAnd then Sir Launcelot armed him at all points, and mounted upon his\nhorse, and gat him a great spear in his hand, and rode out at the\ngate. And both the hosts were assembled of them without and of them\nwithin, and stood in array full manly; and both parties were charged\nfor to hold them still to see and behold the battle of these two noble\nknights. And then they laid their spears in their rests, and they ran\ntogether as thunder. And Sir Gawaine brake his spear upon Sir Launcelot\nin an hundred pieces unto his hand. And Sir Launcelot smote him with a\ngreater might, that Sir Gawaine's horse's feet raised, and so the horse\nand he fell to the earth. Then Sir Gawaine full quickly avoided his\nhorse, and put his shield before him, and eagerly drew his sword, and\nbade Sir Launcelot \"alight, traitor knight! for though this mare's son\nhath failed me, wit thou well that a king's son and a queen's son shall\nnot fail thee.\"\nThen Sir Launcelot avoided his horse, and dressed his shield before\nhim, and drew his sword. And so they stood together and gave many\nsad strokes, that all men on both parties had thereof passing great\nwonder. But when Sir Launcelot felt Sir Gawaine's might so marvellously\nincreased, he then withheld his courage and his wind, and kept himself\nwondrous covert of his might, and under his shield he traced and\ntraversed here and there for to break Sir Gawaine's strokes and his\ncourage. And Sir Gawaine enforced him with all his might and power to\ndestroy Sir Launcelot, for ever as Sir Gawaine's might increased, right\nso increased his wind and his evil will. Thus Sir Gawaine did great\npain unto Sir Launcelot three hours continually, that Sir Launcelot\nhad great pain to defend himself. And after that the three hours were\npassed, then Sir Launcelot felt verily that Sir Gawaine was come to his\nown proper might and strength, and that his great power was done. Then\nSir Launcelot said unto Sir Gawaine, \"Now have I well proved you twice,\nthat ye are a full dangerous knight, and a wonderful man of your might,\nand many wonderful deeds have you done in your days: for by your might\nincreasing you have deceived many a full noble and valiant knight; and\nnow I feel that ye have done your mighty deeds. Now wit you well I must\ndo my deeds.\"\nAnd then Sir Launcelot stood near Sir Gawaine, and then Sir Launcelot\ndoubled his strokes, and Sir Gawaine defended him mightily. But\nnevertheless Sir Launcelot smote such a stroke upon Sir Gawaine's helm,\nand upon the old wound, that Sir Gawaine sank down upon his one side in\na swoon. And anon as he was awake, he waved and foined at Sir Launcelot\nas he lay, and said, \"Traitor knight, wit thou well I am not yet\nslain: come thou near me, and perform this battle unto the uttermost.\"\n\"I will no more do than I have done,\" said Sir Launcelot; \"for when I\nsee you on foot I will do battle upon you all the while I see you stand\non your feet; but for to smite a wounded man that may not stand, God\ndefend me from such a shame.\"\nAnd then he turned him and went his way towards the city, and Sir\nGawaine evermore calling him traitor knight, and said, \"Wit thou well,\nSir Launcelot, when I am whole, I shall do battle with thee again; for\nI shall never leave thee till that one of us be slain.\"\nThus as this siege endured, and as Sir Gawaine lay sick near a month,\nand when he was well recovered and ready within three days to do battle\nagain with Sir Launcelot, right so came tidings unto King Arthur from\nEngland, that made King Arthur and all his host to remove.\nAs Sir Mordred was ruler of all England, he caused letters to be made\nas though they came from beyond the sea, and the letters specified\nthat King Arthur was slain in battle with Sir Launcelot; wherefore Sir\nMordred made a parliament, and called the lords together, and there\nhe made them to choose him king. And so he was crowned at Canterbury,\nand held a feast there fifteen days. And afterwards he drew him to\nWinchester, and there he took Queen Guenever, and said plainly that he\nwould wed her which was his uncle's wife; and so he made ready for the\nfeast, and a day prefixed that they should be wedded. Wherefore Queen\nGuenever was passing heavy; but she durst not discover her heart, but\nspake fair and agreed to Sir Mordred's will. Then she desired of Sir\nMordred for to go to London for to buy all manner thing that belonged\nunto the wedding; and because of her fair speech, Sir Mordred trusted\nher well enough, and gave her leave to go. And when she came to London,\nshe took the Tower of London, and suddenly in all haste possible she\nstuffed it with all manner of victual and well filled it with men, and\nso kept it. Then when Sir Mordred wist how he was beguiled, he was\npassing wroth out of measure. And, a short tale for to make, he went\nand laid a mighty siege about the Tower of London, and made many great\nassaults thereat, and threw many great engines unto them, and shot\ngreat guns. But all might not prevail Sir Mordred, for Queen Guenever\nwould never for fair speech nor for foul trust to come in his hands\nagain. And then came the bishop of Canterbury, the which was a noble\nclerk and an holy man, and thus he said to Sir Mordred: \"Sir, what will\nye do, will ye first displease God, and sithen shame yourself and all\nknighthood? Is not King Arthur your uncle, no further but your mother's\nbrother? Leave this opinion, or else I shall curse you with book, and\nbell, and candle.\"\n\"Do thou thy worst,\" said Sir Mordred, \"wit thou well I shall defy\nthee.\"\n\"Sir,\" said the bishop, \"and wit you well I shall not fear me to do\nthat me ought to do. Also where ye noise where my lord Arthur is slain,\nand that is not so, and therefore ye will make a foul work in this\nland.\"\n\"Peace, thou false priest,\" said Sir Mordred, \"for, and thou chafe me\nany more, I shall make strike off thy head.\"\nSo the bishop departed, and did the curse in the most orgulous\nwise that might be done. And then Sir Mordred sought the bishop of\nCanterbury for to have slain him. Then the bishop fled, and took part\nof his goods with him, and went nigh unto Glastonbury, and there he was\nas priest hermit in a chapel, and lived in poverty and in holy prayers:\nfor well he understood that mischievous war was at hand. Then Sir\nMordred sought on Queen Guenever by letters and by fair means and foul\nmeans, for to have her to come out of the Tower of London, but all this\navailed not, for she answered him shortly, openly and privily, that she\nhad liever slay herself than to be married with him. Then came word to\nSir Mordred that King Arthur had raised the siege from Sir Launcelot,\nand that he was coming homeward with a great host, for to be avenged\nupon Sir Mordred. Wherefore Sir Mordred made to write letters unto all\nthe barony of this land, and much people drew unto him; for then was\nthe common voice among them, that with King Arthur was none other life\nbut war and strife, and with Sir Mordred was great joy and bliss. Thus\nwas King Arthur depraved and evil said of, and many there were that\nKing Arthur had made up of nought, and had given them lands, might not\nsay of him then a good word.\nLo, we all Englishmen see what a mischief here was; for he that was the\nnoblest king and knight of the world, and most loved the fellowship of\nnoble knights and men of worship, and by him they were all upholden,\nnow might not we Englishmen hold us content with him. Lo, this was the\nold custom and usage of this land. And also men say that we of this\nland have not yet lost nor forgotten the custom and usage. Alas! alas!\nthis is a great default of us Englishmen, for there may nothing please\nus no term. And so fared the people at that time. For they were better\npleased with Sir Mordred than they were with King Arthur, and much\npeople drew unto Sir Mordred, and said they would abide with him for\nbetter and for worse. And so Sir Mordred drew with a great host towards\nDover, for there he heard say that King Arthur would arrive. And the\nmost part of all England held with Sir Mordred, the people were so\nnew-fangled.\nAnd so, as Sir Mordred was at Dover with his host, there came King\nArthur with a great navy of ships, galleys, and carracks. And there was\nSir Mordred ready awaiting upon his landing, to let [_hinder_] his own\n[uncle] to land upon the land that he was king over. Then there was\nlaunching of great boats and small, and full of noble men of arms, and\nthere was much slaughter of gentle knights, and many a full bold baron\nwas laid full low on both parties. But King Arthur was so courageous,\nthat there might no manner of knights let him to land, and his knights\nfiercely followed him. And so they landed, maugre Sir Mordred and all\nhis power, and put Sir Mordred aback, that he fled and all his people.\nSo when this battle was done, King Arthur let bury his people that were\ndead, and then was the noble knight Sir Gawaine found in a great boat\nlying more than half dead. When Sir Arthur wist that Sir Gawaine was\nlaid so low, he went unto him, and there the king made sorrow out of\nmeasure, and took Sir Gawaine in his arms, and thrice he there swooned.\nAnd when he awaked he said, \"Alas, Sir Gawaine, my sister's son, here\nnow thou liest, the man in the world that I loved most, and now is my\njoy gone: for now, my nephew Sir Gawaine, I will discover me unto your\nperson; in Sir Launcelot and you I most had my joy, and mine affiance,\nand now have I lost my joy of you both, wherefore all mine earthly joy\nis gone from me.\"\n\"Mine uncle King Arthur,\" said Sir Gawaine, \"wit you well, my death day\nis come, and all is through mine own hastiness and wilfulness, for I\nam smitten upon the old wound the which Sir Launcelot gave me, on the\nwhich I feel well I must die, and had Sir Launcelot been with you as\nhe was, this unhappy war had never begun, and of all this am I causer,\nfor Sir Launcelot and his blood through their prowess held all your\ncankered enemies in subjection and danger: and now,\" said Sir Gawaine,\n\"ye shall miss Sir Launcelot. But, alas, I would not accord with him,\nand therefore,\" said Sir Gawaine, \"I pray you, fair uncle, that I may\nhave paper, pen, and ink, that I may write unto Sir Launcelot a letter\nwith mine own hands.\"\nAnd when paper and ink was brought, Sir Gawaine was set up weakly by\nKing Arthur, for he had been shriven a little before; and he wrote thus\nunto Sir Launcelot: \"Flower of all noble knights that ever I heard of\nor saw in my days; I, Sir Gawaine, King Lot's son of Orkney, sister's\nson unto the noble King Arthur, send unto thee greeting, and let thee\nhave knowledge, that the tenth day of May I was smitten upon the old\nwound which thou gavest me before the city of Benwick, and through the\nsame wound that thou gavest me I am come unto my death day, and I will\nthat all the world wit that I Sir Gawaine, knight of the Round Table,\nsought my death, and not through thy deserving, but it was mine own\nseeking; wherefore I beseech thee, Sir Launcelot, for to return again\nunto this realm and see my tomb, and pray some prayer more or less for\nmy soul. Also, Sir Launcelot, for all the love that ever was between\nus, make no tarrying, but come over the sea in all the haste that thou\nmayest with thy noble knights, and rescue that noble king that made\nthee knight, that is my lord and uncle King Arthur, for he is full\nstraitly bestood [_sore beset_] with a false traitor, which is my half\nbrother Sir Mordred, and he hath let crown himself king, and he would\nhave wedded my lady Queen Guenever, and so had he done, if she had not\nput herself in the Tower of London. And so the tenth day of May last\npast, my lord and uncle King Arthur and we all landed upon them at\nDover, and there we put that false traitor Sir Mordred to flight. And\nthere it misfortuned me for to be stricken upon thy stroke. And at the\ndate of this letter was written but two hours and half before my death,\nwritten with mine own hand, and so subscribed with part of my heart's\nblood. And I require thee, most famous knight of all the world, that\nthou wilt see my tomb.\"\nAnd then Sir Gawaine wept, and King Arthur wept. And the king made Sir\nGawaine to receive his Saviour. And then Sir Gawaine prayed the king\nto send for Sir Launcelot, and to cherish him above all other knights.\nAnd so at the hour of noon, Sir Gawaine yielded up the spirit. And\nthen the king let inter him in a chapel within Dover Castle; and there\nyet all men may see the skull of him, and the same wound is seen that\nSir Launcelot gave him in battle. Then was it told King Arthur that\nSir Mordred had pitched a new field upon Barendoune [_Barham Down_].\nAnd upon the morn the king rode thither to him, and there was a great\nbattle betwixt them, and much people were slain on both parties. But at\nthe last King Arthur's party stood best, and Sir Mordred and his party\nfled into Canterbury.\nAnd then the king let search all the towns for his knights that were\nslain, and interred them; and salved them with soft salves that so\nsore were wounded. Then much people drew unto King Arthur. And then\nthey said that Sir Mordred warred upon King Arthur wrongfully. And\nthen King Arthur drew him with his host down by the sea side, westward\nunto Salisbury, and there was a day assigned between King Arthur and\nSir Mordred, that they should meet upon a down beside Salisbury, and\nnot far from the sea side, and this day was assigned on a Monday after\nTrinity Sunday, whereof King Arthur was passing glad, that he might be\navenged upon Sir Mordred. Then Sir Mordred raised much people about\nLondon, for they of Kent, Southsex [_Sussex_], and Southery [_Surrey_],\nEstsex [_Essex_], and Southfolk [_Suffolk_], and of Northfolk\n[_Norfolk_], held the most party with Sir Mordred, and many a full\nnoble knight drew unto Sir Mordred and to the king; but they that loved\nSir Launcelot drew unto Sir Mordred.\nSo upon Trinity Sunday at night King Arthur dreamed a wonderful dream,\nand that was this, that him seemed he sat in a chair, and the chair was\nfast unto a wheel, and thereupon sat King Arthur in the richest cloth\nof gold that might be made. And the king thought there was under him,\nfar from him, a hideous and a deep black water, and therein was all\nmanner of serpents and worms, and wild beasts foul and horrible; and\nsuddenly the king thought that the wheel turned upside down, and that\nhe fell among the serpents and wild beasts, and every beast took him by\na limb; and then the king cried, as he lay in his bed and slept, \"Help!\"\nAnd then knights, squires, and yeomen awaked the king; and then he\nwas so amazed that he wist not where he was; and then he fell in a\nslumbering again, not sleeping nor thoroughly waking. So King Arthur\nthought that there came Sir Gawaine unto him verily, with a number\nof fair ladies with him; and so when King Arthur saw him, he said,\n\"Welcome, my sister's son, I wend thou hadst been dead, and now I see\nthee alive, much am I beholden unto almighty Jesu; oh, fair nephew and\nmy sister's son, what be these ladies that be come hither with you?\"\n\"Sir,\" said Sir Gawaine, \"all these be the ladies for whom I have\nfought when I was man living: and all these are those that I did battle\nfor in righteous quarrel. And God hath given them that grace at their\ngreat prayer, because I did battle for them, that they should bring\nme hither unto you for to warn you of your death; for and ye fight as\nto-morrow with Sir Mordred, as ye both have assigned, doubt ye not ye\nmust be slain, and the most part of your people on both parties. For\nwithin a month shall come Sir Launcelot, with all his noble knights,\nand rescue you worshipfully, and slay Sir Mordred and all that ever\nwill hold with him.\" Then Sir Gawaine and all the ladies vanished.\nSo then were they condescended that King Arthur and Sir Mordred should\nmeet between both their hosts, and every each of them should bring\nfourteen persons. And they came with this word unto King Arthur, and\nthen said he, \"I am glad that this is done.\" And so he went into the\nfields; and when King Arthur should depart, he warned all his host\nthat, and they saw any sword drawn, \"look that ye come on fiercely, and\nslay that traitor Sir Mordred, for I in no wise trust him.\"\nIn like wise Sir Mordred did warn his host that \"if ye see any manner\nof sword drawn, look that ye come on fiercely, and so slay all that\never standeth before you, for in no wise I will not trust for this\ntreatise, for I know well that my [uncle] will be avenged upon me.\"\nAnd so they met as their appointment was, and were agreed and accorded\nthoroughly, and wine was fet [_fetched_] and they drank. Right so came\nan adder out of a little heath bush, and it stung a knight on the foot;\nand when the knight felt him stung, he looked down and saw the adder,\nand then he drew his sword to slay the adder, and thought of none\nother harm. And when the hosts on both parties saw that sword drawn,\nthey blew trumpets and horns, and shouted grimly. And so both hosts\ndressed them together, and King Arthur took his horse, and said, \"Alas,\nthis unhappy day!\" and so rode he to his party. And so Sir Mordred\ndid in like wise; and never was there seen a more dolefuller battle\nin no Christian land, for there was but rashing and riding, foining\nand striking, and many a grim word was there spoken either to other,\nand many a deadly stroke. And ever they fought still till it was nigh\nnight, and by that time was there an hundred thousand laid dead upon\nthe down. Then was King Arthur wroth out of measure, when he saw his\npeople so slain from him. Then the king looked about him, and then was\nhe ware that of all his host, and of all his good knights, were left\nno more alive but two knights, that was Sir Lucan the Butler and Sir\nBedivere his brother, and they were right sore wounded.\n\"Jesu mercy!\" said King Arthur, \"where are all my noble knights become?\nAlas! that ever I should see this doleful day; for now,\" said King\nArthur, \"I am come unto mine end; but would to God that I wist where\nthat traitor Sir Mordred is, which hath caused all this mischief.\"\nThen was King Arthur ware where Sir Mordred leaned upon his sword among\na great heap of dead men.\n\"Now give me my spear,\" said King Arthur to Sir Lucan, \"for yonder I\nhave espied the traitor which hath wrought all this woe.\"\n\"Sir, let him be,\" said Sir Lucan, \"for he is unhappy; and if ye\npass this unhappy day ye shall be right well revenged upon him. My\ngood lord, remember well your dream that ye had this night, and what\nthe spirit of Sir Gawaine told you this night; yet God of his great\ngoodness hath preserved you hitherto, therefore, for God's sake, my\nlord, leave off by this, for blessed be God ye have won the field; for\nhere we be three on live, and with Sir Mordred is none alive. And if ye\nleave off now, this wicked day of destiny is done.\"\n\"Betide me death, betide me life,\" said the king, \"now I see him yonder\nalone he shall never escape my hands, for at a better vantage shall I\nnever have him.\"\n\"God speed you well,\" said Sir Bedivere.\nThen the king gat his spear in both his hands, and ran towards Sir\nMordred, crying, \"Traitor, now is thy death day come.\"\nAnd when Sir Mordred heard King Arthur, he ran unto him with his sword\ndrawn in his hand. And then King Arthur smote Sir Mordred under the\nshield with a foin of his spear throughout the body more than a fathom.\nAnd when Sir Mordred felt that he had his death's wound, he thrust\nhimself, with the might that he had, up to the bur of King Arthur's\nspear. And right so he smote [the king] with his sword holden in both\nhis hands, on the side of the head, that the sword pierced the helmet\nand the brain-pan. And therewithal Sir Mordred fell stark dead to the\nearth. And the noble Arthur fell in a swoon to the earth, and there he\nswooned ofttimes. And Sir Lucan the Butler and Sir Bedivere ofttimes\nheaved him up, and so weakly they led him betwixt them both to a little\nchapel not far from the sea side. And when the king was there, he\nthought him well eased. Then heard they people cry in the field.\n\"Now go thou, Sir Lucan,\" said the king, \"and do me to wit what\nbetokens that noise in the field.\"\nSo Sir Lucan departed, and he was grievously wounded in many places.\nAnd so as he went, he saw and hearkened by the moonlight, how the\npillers [_pillagers_] and robbers were come into the field to pill and\nto rob many a full noble knight of broaches and beads, of many a good\nring, and of many a rich jewel; and who that were not dead all out\n[_entirely_], there they slew them for their harness and their riches.\nWhen Sir Lucan understood this work, he came to the king as soon as he\nmight, and told him all what he had heard and seen.\n\"Therefore by mine advice,\" said Sir Lucan, \"it is best that we bring\nyou to some town.\"\n\"I would it were so,\" said the king.\n\"But I may not stand. Ah, Sir Launcelot,\" said King Arthur, \"this day\nhave I sore missed thee. Alas, that ever I was against thee, for now\nhave I my death, whereof Sir Gawaine me warned in my dream.\"\nThen Sir Lucan took up the king the one part, and Sir Bedivere the\nother part, and in the lifting, the king swooned, and Sir Lucan fell in\na swoon with the lift, and therewith the noble knight's heart brast.\nAnd when King Arthur came to himself again, he beheld Sir Lucan how he\nlay foaming at the mouth.\n\"Alas,\" said the king, \"this is unto me a full heavy sight to see this\nnoble duke so die for my sake, for he would have holpen me, that had\nmore need of help than I. Alas, he would not complain him, his heart\nwas so set to help me. Now Jesu have mercy upon his soul.\"\nThen Sir Bedivere wept for the death of his brother.\n\"Leave this mourning and weeping,\" said the king, \"for all this will\nnot avail me: for, wit thou well, and I might live myself the death\nof Sir Lucan would grieve me evermore; but my time hieth fast,\" said\nthe king. \"Therefore,\" said King Arthur, \"take thou Excalibur, my good\nsword, and go with it to yonder water side, and when thou comest there,\nI charge thee throw my sword in that water, and come again, and tell me\nwhat thou shalt see there.\"\n\"My lord,\" said Sir Bedivere, \"your command shall be done, and lightly\nbring you word again.\"\nAnd so Sir Bedivere departed; and by the way he beheld that noble sword\nwhere the pommel and the haft were all of precious stones, and then he\nsaid to himself, \"If I throw this rich sword into the water, thereof\nshall never come good, but harm and loss.\"\nAnd then Sir Bedivere hid Excalibur under a tree, and as soon as he\nmight he came again unto King Arthur, and said he had been at the\nwater, and had thrown the sword into the water.\n\"What sawest thou there?\" said the king.\n\"Sir,\" said he, \"I saw nothing but waves and wind.\"\n\"That is untruly said of thee,\" said King Arthur, \"therefore go thou\nlightly and do my command, as thou art to me lief [_beloved_] and dear;\nspare not, but throw it in.\"\nThen Sir Bedivere returned again, and took the sword in his hand; and\nthen him thought it sin and shame to throw away that noble sword. And\nso he hid the sword, and returned again and told to the king that he\nhad been at the water and done his command.\n\"What saw ye there?\" said the king.\n\"Sir,\" said he, \"I saw nothing but the water wap and waves wane.\"[21]\n[Footnote 21: \"Water wap and waves wane,\" _water lap and waves ebb_.]\n\"Ah, traitor untrue!\" said King Arthur, \"now hast thou betrayed me two\ntimes. Who would have wend that thou that hast been unto me so self\n[_loved like myself_] and dear, and thou art named a noble knight, and\nwouldest betray me for the rich sword? But now go again lightly, for\nthy long tarrying putteth me in great jeopardy of my life, for I have\ntaken cold; and but if thou do as I command thee, and if ever I may see\nthee, I shall slay thee with my own hands, for thou wouldst for my rich\nsword see me dead.\"\nThen Sir Bedivere departed, and went to the sword, and lightly took it\nup, and went to the water's side; and there he bound the girdle about\nthe hilts, and then he threw the sword into the water as far as he\nmight; and there came an arm and an hand above the water, and met it\nand caught it, and so shook it thrice and brandished.\nAnd then the hand vanished away with the sword in the water. So Sir\nBedivere came again to the king, and told him what he had seen.\n\"Alas!\" said the king, \"help me from hence, for I dread me I have\ntarried over long.\"\nThen Sir Bedivere took King Arthur upon his back, and so went with him\nto the water's side. And when they were at the water's side, even fast\nby the bank hoved a little barge, with many fair ladies in it, and\namong them all was a queen, and all they had black hoods, and they wept\nand shrieked when they saw King Arthur.\n\"Now put me into the barge,\" said the king; and so he did softly; and\nthere received him three queens with great mourning, and so these three\nqueens [whereof one was King Arthur's sister Morgan le Fay, the other\nwas the queen of Northgalis, and the third was the queen of the waste\nlands] set them down, and in one of their laps King Arthur laid his\nhead. And then that queen said, \"Ah! dear brother, why have ye tarried\nso long from me? Alas! this wound on your head hath taken overmuch\ncold.\"\nAnd so then they rowed from the land, and Sir Bedivere beheld all those\nladies go from him; then Sir Bedivere cried, \"Ah! my lord Arthur, what\nshall become of me now ye go from me, and leave me here alone among\nmine enemies?\"\n\"Comfort thyself,\" said King Arthur, \"and do as well as thou mayest,\nfor in me is no trust for to trust in; for I will into the vale of\nAvalon for to heal me of my grievous wound; and if thou never hear more\nof me, pray for my soul.\"\nBut evermore the queens and the ladies wept and shrieked that it was\npity for to hear them. And as soon as Sir Bedivere had lost the sight\nof the barge, he wept and wailed, and so took the forest; and so he\nwent all the night, and in the morning he was ware between two hills of\na chapel and an hermitage.\nThen was Sir Bedivere glad, and thither he went; and when he came into\nthe chapel, he saw where lay an hermit grovelling upon all four there\nfast by a tomb newly graven. When the hermit saw Sir Bedivere, he knew\nhim well, for he was, but a little before, [the] bishop of Canterbury\nthat Sir Mordred banished away.\n\"Sir,\" said Sir Bedivere, \"what man is there that ye pray so fast for?\"\n\"Fair son,\" said the hermit, \"I wot not verily, but by deeming, but\nthis night, at midnight, here came a great number of ladies, and\nbrought hither a dead corpse, and prayed me to bury him; and here they\noffered an hundred tapers and gave me an hundred besants.\"\n\"Alas,\" said Sir Bedivere, \"that was my lord King Arthur, that here\nlieth buried in this chapel!\"\nThen Sir Bedivere swooned, and when he awoke he prayed the hermit he\nmight abide with him still there, to live with fasting and prayers.\n\"For from hence will I never go,\" said Sir Bedivere, \"by my will, but\nall the days of my life here to pray for my lord Arthur.\"\n\"Ye are welcome to me,\" said the hermit, \"for I know you better than ye\nween that I do. Ye are the bold Bedivere, and the full noble duke Sir\nLucan the Butler was your brother.\"\nThen Sir Bedivere told the hermit all as ye have heard before. So there\nbode Sir Bedivere with the hermit, and there Sir Bedivere put upon\nhim poor clothes, and served the hermit full lowly in fasting and in\nprayers. And when the Queen Guenever understood that King Arthur was\nslain, and all the noble knights, Sir Mordred and all the remnant, then\nthe queen stole away, and five ladies with her, and so she went to\nAlmesbury, and there she let make herself a nun and wore white clothes\nand black. And great penance she took as ever did sinful lady in this\nland; and never creature could make her merry, but lived in fastings,\nprayers, and alms deeds, that all manner of people marvelled how\nvirtuously she was changed. Now leave we Queen Guenever in Almsbury,\nthat was a nun in white clothes and black; and there she was abbess\nand ruler, as reason would. And turn we from her, and speak we of Sir\nLauncelot du Lake.\nAnd when he heard in his country that Sir Mordred was crowned king\nin England, and made war against King Arthur, and would not let him\nto land in his own land; also it was told Sir Launcelot how that Sir\nMordred had laid siege about the Tower of London, because the queen\nwould not wed him; then was Sir Launcelot wondrous wroth.\nThen they made them ready in all the haste that might be, with ships\nand galleys, with Sir Launcelot and his host for to pass into England.\nAnd so he passed over the sea, and arrived at Dover, and there he\nlanded with seven kings, and their number was hideous to behold. Then\nSir Launcelot inquired of the men of Dover where King Arthur was become.\nThen the people told him how that he was slain, with Sir Mordred, and\nan hundred thousand died upon a day, and how Sir Mordred gave King\nArthur there the first battle at his landing, and there was the good\nknight Sir Gawaine slain; and on the morrow Sir Mordred fought with\nKing Arthur upon Barendoune, and there King Arthur put Sir Mordred to\nthe worst.\n\"Alas!\" said Sir Launcelot, \"this is the heaviest tidings that ever\ncame to me. Now fair sirs,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"I beseech you show me\nthe tomb of Sir Gawaine.\"\nAnd then certain people of the town brought him to the castle of Dover,\nand showed him the tomb of Sir Gawaine. Then Sir Launcelot kneeled\ndown, and wept, and prayed full heartily for his soul. And that night\nhe made a dole, and all they that would come had as much flesh and\nfish, wine and ale, as they might eat and drink, and every man and\nwoman had twelve pence, come who would.\nThen on the third day Sir Launcelot called to the kings, dukes, earls,\nand barons, and said thus: \"My fair lords, I thank you all of your\ncoming into this country with me. But we come too late, and that shall\nrepent me while I live. But sithen it is so, I will myself ride and\nseek my lady Queen Guenever, for as I hear say she hath great pain and\nmuch disease, and I heard say that she is fled into the west country,\ntherefore ye all abide me here, and but if I come within fifteen days,\nthen take your ships and your fellowship, and depart into your country.\"\nThen came Sir Bors de Ganis, and said, \"My lord Sir Launcelot, what\nthink ye for to do, now to ride in this realm? wit thou well, ye shall\nfind few friends.\"\n\"Be as be may,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"keep you still here, for I will\nforth on my journey, and no man nor child shall go with me.\"\nSo it was no boot to strive, but he departed and rode westerly, and\nthere he sought a seven or eight days, and at the last he came unto\na nunnery. And then was Queen Guenever ware of Sir Launcelot as she\nwalked in the cloister; and when she saw him there, she swooned three\ntimes, that all the ladies and gentlewomen had work enough for to\nhold the queen up. So when she might speak, she called ladies and\ngentlewomen unto her, and said, \"Ye marvel, fair ladies, why I make\nthis cheer. Truly,\" said she, \"it is for the sight of yonder knight\nwhich yonder standeth; wherefore I pray you all to call him unto me.\"\nAnd when Sir Launcelot was brought unto her, then she said: \"Sir\nLauncelot, I require thee and beseech thee heartily, for all the love\nthat ever was between us two, that thou never look me more in the\nvisage. And furthermore I command thee on God's behalf right straitly,\nthat thou forsake my company, and that unto thy kingdom shortly thou\nreturn again, and keep well thy realm from war and wreck. For as well\nas I have loved thee, Sir Launcelot, now mine heart will not once serve\nme to see thee. Therefore, Sir Launcelot, go thou unto thy realm, and\nthere take thee a wife, and live with her in joy and bliss. And I\nbeseech you heartily, pray for me unto our Lord God, that I may amend\nmy misliving.\"\n\"Now, sweet madam,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"would ye that I should now\nreturn again into my country, and there to wed a lady? Nay, madam, wit\nyou well that shall I never do: but the same destiny that ye have taken\nyou to, I will take me unto, for to please Jesu, and ever for you I\ncast me specially to pray. And if I had found you now so disposed, I\nhad cast me to have had you into mine own realm.\"\n[Then] there was lamentation as they had been stung by spears, and the\nladies bare the queen to her chamber.\nAnd Sir Launcelot took his horse and rode all that day and all that\nnight in a forest, weeping. And at last he was ware of a hermitage and\na chapel between two cliffs, and then he heard a little bell ring to\nmass.\n[And it was here that the bishop and Sir Bedivere had served God\ntogether; and they knew Sir Launcelot, and told him all, and his heart\nwas nearly brast for sorrow. And Sir Launcelot threw abroad his armor,\nand was shriven, and took the habit upon him, and abode at that chapel.\nAnd there came Sir Bors, who had gone forth for to seek Sir Launcelot.\nAnd Sir Bors took the habit upon him. And within half a year there was\nalso come] Sir Galihud, Sir Galihodin, Sir Bleoberis, Sir Villiers, Sir\nClarrus, and Sir Gahalantine. So these seven knights abode there still.\nAnd when they saw that Sir Launcelot had taken him unto such perfection\nthey had not list [_desire_] to depart, but took such an habit as he\nhad, and their horses went where they would.\nThus they endured in great penance six years, and then Sir Launcelot\ntook the habit of priesthood, and twelve months he sung the mass. [And\nhe used] such abstinence that he waxed full lean. And thus upon a night\nthere came a vision to Sir Launcelot, and charged him, in remission of\nhis sins, to haste him unto Almesbury, \"And by then thou come there,\nthou shalt find Queen Guenever dead: and therefore take thy fellows\nwith thee, and purvey them of an horse-bier, and fetch thou the corpse\nof her, and bury her by her husband the noble King Arthur.\" So this\nvision came to Launcelot thrice in one night.\nThen Sir Launcelot rose up or day, and told the hermit.\n\"It were well done,\" said the hermit, \"that ye made you ready, and that\nyou disobey not the vision.\"\nThen Sir Launcelot took his seven fellows with him, and on foot they\nwent from Glastonbury to Almesbury, the which is little more than\nthirty miles. And thither they came within two days, for they were weak\nand feeble to go. And when Sir Launcelot was come to Almesbury, within\nthe nunnery, Queen Guenever died but half an hour before.\nThen Sir Launcelot saw her visage, but he wept not greatly, but sighed;\nand so he did all the observance of the mass himself, both the dirige\n[_dirge_] at night and the mass on the morrow.\n[Illustration: _Then Sir Launcelot saw her visage, but he wept not\ngreatly, but sighed_]\n[And so with many holy rites, Queen Guenever was wrapped thirty-fold\nin cloth of Rheims, and put in a web of lead, and after in a coffin of\nmarble. And when she was put in the earth Sir Launcelot swooned.]\nThen Sir Launcelot never after eat but little meat, nor drank, till\nhe was dead; for then he sickened more and more, and dried and dwined\n[_dwindled_] away; for the bishop nor none of his fellows might not\nmake him to eat, and little he drank; for evermore day and night he\nprayed, but sometime he slumbered a broken sleep, and ever he was\nlying grovelling on the tomb of King Arthur and Queen Guenever. And\nthere was no comfort that the bishop, nor Sir Bors, nor none of his\nfellows could make him, it availed nothing.\nOh, ye mighty and pompous lords, shining in the glory transitory of\nthis unstable life, as in reigning over great realms and mighty great\ncountries, fortified with strong castles and towers, edified with\nmany a rich city; ye also, ye fierce and mighty knights, so valiant\nin adventurous deeds of arms; behold, behold, see how this mighty\nconqueror King Arthur, whom in his human life all the world doubted\n[_praised_], see also the noble Queen Guenever, which sometime sat\nin her chair adorned with gold, pearls, and precious stones, now lie\nfull low in obscure fosse or pit, covered with clods of earth and\nclay; behold also this mighty champion Sir Launcelot, peerless of all\nknighthood, see now how he lieth grovelling upon the cold mould, now\nbeing so feeble and faint that sometime was so terrible. How and in\nwhat manner ought ye to be so desirous of worldly honor so dangerous!\nTherefore me thinketh this present book is right necessary often to\nbe read, for in it shall ye find the most gracious, knightly, and\nvirtuous war of the most noble knights of the world, whereby they gat\npraising continually. Also me seemeth, by the oft reading thereof,\nye shall greatly desire to accustom yourself in following of those\ngracious knightly deeds, that is to say, to dread God, and to love\nrighteousness, faithfully and courageously to serve your sovereign\nprince; and the more that God hath given you the triumphal honor, the\nmeeker ye ought to be, ever fearing the unstableness of this deceitful\nworld. And so I pass over and turn again unto my matter.\nSo within six weeks after Sir Launcelot fell sick, and lay in his bed;\nand then he sent for the bishop that there was hermit, and all his true\nfellows. Then Sir Launcelot said with dreary steeven [_voice_], \"Sir\nbishop, I pray you give to me all my rights that longeth to a Christian\nman.\"\n\"It shall not need you,\" said the hermit and all his fellows, \"it is\nbut heaviness of your blood: ye shall be well amended by the grace of\nGod to-morn.\"\n\"My fair lords,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"wit you well, my careful body\nwill into the earth. I have warning more than now I will say, therefore\ngive me my rights.\"\nSo when he had all that a Christian man ought to have, he prayed the\nbishop that his fellows might bear his body unto Joyous Gard.\n\"Howbeit,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"me repenteth sore, but I made mine avow\nsometime that in Joyous Gard I would be buried, and because of breaking\nof mine avow, I pray you all lead me thither.\"\nThen there was weeping and wringing of hands among all his fellows. So\nat the season of night they went all to their beds, for they lay all in\none chamber. So after midnight against day, the bishop that was hermit,\nas he lay in his bed asleep, he fell on a great laughter; and therewith\nthe fellowship awoke, and came unto the bishop, and asked him what he\nailed.\n\"Ah, Jesu, mercy,\" said the bishop, \"why did you awake me? I was never\nin all my life so merry and well at ease.\"\n\"Why, wherefore?\" said Sir Bors.\n\"Truly,\" said the bishop, \"here was Sir Launcelot with me, with more\nangels than ever I saw men upon one day; and I saw the angels heave up\nSir Launcelot towards heaven; and the gates of heaven opened against\nhim.\"\n\"It is but dretching [_fantasy_] of swevens [_dreams_],\" said Sir Bors;\n\"for I doubt not Sir Launcelot aileth nothing but good.\"\n\"It may well be,\" said the bishop. \"Go to his bed, and then shall ye\nprove the sooth.\"\nSo when Sir Bors and his fellows came to his bed, they found him stark\ndead, and he lay as he had smiled, and the sweetest savor about him\nthat ever they smelled. Then was there weeping and wringing of hands,\nand the greatest dole they made that ever made men. And on the morrow\nthe bishop sung his mass of requiem; and after the bishop and all\nthose nine knights put Sir Launcelot in the same horse-bier that Queen\nGuenever was laid in before that she was buried.\nAnd so the bishop and they all together went with the corpse of Sir\nLauncelot daily till they came unto Joyous Gard, and ever they had an\nhundred torches burning about him.\nAnd so within fifteen days they came to Joyous Gard; and there they\nlaid his corpse in the body of the choir, and sung and read many\npsalters and prayers over him and about him; and ever his visage was\nlaid open and naked, that all folk might behold him, for such was the\ncustom in those days that all men of worship should so lie with open\nvisage till that they were buried. And right thus as they were at their\nservice, there came Sir Ector de Maris, that had sought seven year all\nEngland, Scotland, and Wales, seeking his brother Sir Launcelot.\nAnd when Sir Ector de Maris heard such noise and light in the choir of\nJoyous Gard, he alighted, and put his horse away from him, and came\ninto the choir; and there he saw men sing and weep. And all they knew\nSir Ector, but he knew not them. Then went Sir Bors unto Sir Ector, and\ntold him how there lay his brother Sir Launcelot dead. And then Sir\nEctor threw his shield, sword, and helm from him; and when he beheld\nSir Launcelot's visage he fell down in a swoon. And when he awaked it\nwere hard any tongue to tell the doleful complaints that he made for\nhis brother.\n\"Ah, Sir Launcelot,\" he said, \"thou were head of all Christian knights;\nand now I dare say,\" said Sir Ector, \"that Sir Launcelot, there thou\nliest, thou were never matched of none earthly knight's hands; and thou\nwere the courtliest knight that ever bare shield; and thou were the\ntruest friend to thy lover that ever bestrode horse; and thou were the\ntruest lover, of a sinful man, that ever loved woman; and thou were the\nkindest man that ever struck with sword; and thou were the goodliest\nperson that ever came among press [_crowd_] of knights; and thou were\nthe meekest man and the gentlest that ever ate in hall among ladies;\nand thou were the sternest knight to thy mortal foe that ever put spear\nin the rest.\"\nThen there was weeping and dolor out of measure.\nThus they kept Sir Launcelot's corpse above the ground fifteen days,\nand then they buried it with great devotion. And then at leisure they\nwent all with the bishop of Canterbury to his hermitage, and there\nthey were together more than a month. Then Sir Constantine, that was\nSir Cador's son, of Cornwall, was chosen king of England; and he was a\nfull noble knight, and worshipfully he ruled this realm. And then this\nKing Constantine sent for the bishop of Canterbury, for he heard say\nwhere he was; and so he was restored unto his bishopric, and left that\nhermitage; and Sir Bedivere was there ever still hermit to his life's\nend. Then Sir Bors de Ganis, Sir Ector de Maris, Sir Gahalantine, Sir\nGalihud, Sir Galihodin, Sir Blamor, Sir Bleoberis, Sir Villiers le\nValiant, Sir Clarrus of Claremount, all these knights drew them to\ntheir countries, howbeit King Constantine would have had them with him,\nbut they would not abide in this realm; and there they lived in their\ncountries as holy men.\nHere is the end of the whole book of King Arthur and of his noble\nknights of the Round Table, that when they were whole together there\nwas ever an hundred and forty. Also, here is the end of the death of\nKing Arthur. I pray you all, gentlemen and gentlewomen, that read this\nbook of King Arthur and his knights from the beginning to the ending,\npray for me while I am alive, that God send me good deliverance.\nAnd when I am dead, I pray you all pray for my soul. For this book was\nfinished the ninth year of the reign of King Edward the Fourth, by Sir\nThomas Maleor [_Malory_] knight, as Jesu help me for his great might,\nas he is the servant of Jesu both day and night.", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg - The Boy's King Arthur\n"}, {"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1451, "culture": " English\n", "content": "Produced by Irma Spehar, Sonya Schermann and the Online\nfile was produced from images generously made available\nby The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries)\n[Illustration]\n _Sir Thomas Malory\u2019s Book\n of King Arthur and of his Noble Knights\n _EDITED, WITH AN INTRODUCTION_\n SIR EDWARD STRACHEY, BART.\n Si quando indigenas revocabo in carmina reges,\n Arturumque etiam sub terris bella moventem;\n Aut dicam invictae sociali foedere mensae\n Magnanimos Heroas.\u2014MILTON.\n HORACE HART, PRINTER TO THE UNIVERSITY\n HER FATHER INSCRIBES THIS BOOK\n THE INTRODUCTION TO WHICH\n COULD NOT HAVE BEEN NOW RE-WRITTEN\n IN MAKING THE EAR FAMILIAR WITH WORDS\n WHICH THE EYE CAN NO LONGER READ.\n ADVERTISEMENT TO THE PRESENT EDITION.\nThe Introduction to the first edition of this volume included an\naccount of the Text in the various editions of Sir Thomas Malory\u2019s\n\u2018Morte Darthur,\u2019 and an attempt to estimate the character and worth of\nhis book. The publication of Dr. Sommer\u2019s edition of the Text and\nProlegomena, demands that I should complete my bibliography by an\naccount of this important work; and it enables me, by help of this\nlearned writer\u2019s new information, to confirm, while enlarging, my\nformer criticism. I have, therefore, revised and re-written the two\nfirst sections of the Introduction. The Essay on Chivalry remains, but\nfor a few verbal changes, as it was first printed.\n SUTTON COURT,\n \u00a71. THE AUTHORSHIP AND MATTER OF THE BOOK.\nOrigin of the Book.\u2014Its claim to be called a poem.\u2014Epic in\n plan.\u2014Malory\u2019s use of the old romances.\u2014His History and\n Geography.\u2014Camelot.\u2014Glastonbury.\u2014Almesbury.\u2014Joyous Gard.\u2014The\n Sangreal.\u2014Influence on our language, letters, life.\u2014Morality of\n the Book.\u2014Spenser, Milton, Tennyson.\u2014Malory, Caxton\n \u00a72. THE TEXT AND ITS SEVERAL EDITIONS.\nThe edition of Caxton, 1485.\u2014Those of Wynkyn de Worde, 1498\n and 1529.\u2014Of Copland, 1557.\u2014Of East, without date.\u2014Of\n Stansby, 1634.\u2014Editions of 1816.\u2014Southey\u2019s edition of\n 1817.\u2014Discovery of interpolations in that edition.\u2014Mr.\n Wright\u2019s editions, 1858 and 1866.\u2014Character and object of\n the present edition.\u2014Abridgements.\u2014Extracts.\u2014Dr. Sommer\u2019s\nOrigin of Chivalry.\u2014Contest of Civilization with Barbarism.\u2014The\n Chevalier and the Knight.\u2014His education.\u2014Amadis and\n Oriana.\u2014The Black Prince.\u2014Birth not essential to\n Knighthood.\u2014The Lady.\u2014Queen Philippa.\u2014Decay of\n Chivalry.\u2014Knights of Malta.\u2014Modern Manners\n THE BOOK OF KING ARTHUR\n THE TABLE OR RUBRYSSHE OF THE CONTENTS OF CHAPTERS 3\n THE BOOK OF KING ARTHUR, BOOKS I TO XXI 25\n \u00a71. THE AUTHORSHIP AND MATTER OF THE BOOK.\nWe owe this our English Epic of Le Morte Darthur to Sir Thomas Malory,\nand to William Caxton the first English printer. Caxton\u2019s Preface shows\n(what indeed would have been certain from his appeal to the \u2018Knights of\nEngland\u2019 at the end of \u2018The Order of Chivalry\u2019) that however strongly\nhe, \u2018William Caxton, simple person,\u2019 may have been urged to undertake\nthe work by \u2018divers gentlemen of this realm of England,\u2019 he was not\nless moved by his own love and reverence for \u2018the noble acts of\nchivalry,\u2019 and his deep sense of his duty and responsibility in\nprinting what he believed would be for the instruction and profit of\nhis readers, \u2018of whatever estate or degree.\u2019 But to Sir Thomas Malory\nhe gives all the honour of having provided him with the copy which he\nprinted. And ever since, for more than four hundred years, successive\ngenerations have approved the fitness of Caxton\u2019s choice. For it is\nMalory\u2019s book, and not the older forms of King Arthur\u2019s story which we\nstill read for enjoyment, and for the illustration of which scholars\nedit those earlier books. Only a true poem, the offspring of genius,\ncould have so held, and be still holding its ground, age after age. It\nmay be said that it is chiefly with boys, and with men who have formed\nthe taste by their boyish reading, that the book is so popular. But is\nnot this so with the Iliad too? Men of mature intellect and taste read\nand re-read the Iliad with ever new discoveries, appreciation, and\nenjoyment; but it may be questioned whether there are many, or even\nany, of them who did not begin those studies at school, and learn to\nlove Homer before they knew that he was worthy of their love. And they\nwho have given most of such reading, in youth and in manhood, to\nMalory\u2019s Morte Darthur will be the most able and ready to recognise its\nclaim to the character of an Epic poem.\nMalory wrote in prose, but he had \u2018the vision and the faculty divine\u2019\nof the poet, though \u2018wanting the accomplishment of verse\u2019; and, great\nas that want is, we may apply Milton\u2019s test of \u2018simple, sensuous, and\npassionate,\u2019 and we shall find no right to these names more real than\nis Malory\u2019s. Every incident, the description of every event, is\n\u2018simple,\u2019 that is to say, complete in itself, while making a part of\nthe whole story. The story is \u2018sensuous,\u2019 like that of Homer, and as\nevery true poem must be, it is a living succession of concrete images\nand pictures, not of abstractions or generalized arguments and\nreasonings. These are the characteristics of the book, from its opening\nstory of Igraine, which \u2018befell in the days of Uther Pendragon,\u2019 down\nto the death of the last four remaining knights who \u2018went into the Holy\nLand, there as Jesus Christ was quick and dead,\u2019 and there \u2018did many\nbattles upon the miscreants or Turks, and there they died on a Good\nFriday for God\u2019s sake.\u2019 And for \u2018passion,\u2019 for that emotion which the\npoet first feels in a special manner, and then awakens in his hearers,\nthough they could not have originated it in themselves, with the\nadventures of the Round Table and the San Greal, or the deaths of\nArthur, of Guenever, and of Launcelot, we may compare the wrath of\nAchilles, its cause and its consequences, or the leave-taking of Hector\nand Andromache. It would, indeed, be hard to find anywhere a pathos\ngreater than that of Malory\u2019s description of the death or \u2018passing\u2019 of\nArthur, the penitence of Guenever, and her parting with Launcelot, or\nthe lament of Launcelot over the King and Queen, and of Sir Ector over\nLauncelot himself. The first is too long to quote, but I may say that\nMalory has re-cast the old story, and all the poetry is his own. I give\nthe two last:\u2014\n \u2018Truly, said Sir Launcelot, I trust I do not displease God, for He\n knoweth mine intent, for my sorrow was not, nor is not, for any\n rejoicing of sin, but my sorrow may never have end. For when I\n remember of her beauty, and of her noblesse, that was both with her\n king and with her; so when I saw his corpse and her corpse so lie\n together, truly mine heart would not serve to sustain my careful\n body. Also when I remember me, how by my default, mine orgule, and\n my pride, that they were both laid full low, that were peerless\n that ever was living of christian people, wit you well, said Sir\n Launcelot, this remembered, of their kindness and mine unkindness,\n sank so to my heart, that I might not sustain myself.\u2019\nAnd again:\u2014\n \u2018Ah, Launcelot, he said, thou were head of all christian knights;\n and now I dare say, said Sir Ector, thou Sir Launcelot, there thou\n liest, that thou were never matched of earthly knight\u2019s hand; and\n thou were the courtiest knight that ever bare shield; and thou were\n the truest friend to thy lover that ever bestrode horse; and thou\n were the truest lover of a sinful man that ever loved woman; and\n thou were the kindest man that ever strake with sword; and thou\n were the goodliest person ever came among press of knights; and\n thou was the meekest man and the gentlest that ever ate in hall\n among ladies; and thou were the sternest knight to thy mortal foe\n that ever put spear in the rest[1].\u2019\nThe former passage is all Malory\u2019s own: the beauty of the latter is\nenhanced, if we set by its side the old version which he follows:\u2014\n \u2018Alas, sir [said] Bors, that I was born,\n That ever I should see this indeed,\n The beste knight his life hath lorn,\n That ever in stoure [fight] bestrode a steed,\n Jesu, that crowned was with thorn,\n In heaven his soul foster and feed[2].\u2019\nHumour is akin to passion; and it may not be out of place to notice\nhere Malory\u2019s vein of humour, as shown, for instance, in the way in\nwhich he tells the adventures of La Cote Male Taile, and of Beaumains;\nthe pranks of the braver knights with Dinadan and Dagonet; the story of\nArthur\u2019s wedding feast, when a lady who \u2018cried and made great dole,\u2019\nwas forcibly carried out of the hall by a strange knight, and Arthur\n\u2018was glad, for she made such a noise,\u2019 and was thereupon rebuked by\nMerlin for thinking so lightly of his royal and knightly duties; or\nthat of the usurper Mordred and the Bishop of Canterbury, when after\neach had defied the other, the bishop \u2018did the curse in the most\norgulous wise that might be done,\u2019 and then retired to live \u2018in poverty\nand holy prayers, for well he understood that mischievous war was at\nhand.\u2019\nIn the Drama the action is present, actually unwinding itself and going\non before our eyes. The Epic is the story of the past, a cycle of\nevents completed, while through the one and the other may be traced a\nthread of destiny and providence, leading either to a happy triumph\nover circumstances, or to a tragic doom, which, too, is in the end, a\ntriumph also. Thomas Hughes, the early Elizabethan dramatist, in his\n\u2018Misfortunes of Arthur,\u2019 concentrated and deepened the horror of such a\ntragedy by transferring the guilt of Launcelot to Mordred the son of\nArthur and his unknown sister. He would better have recognised and\nfollowed the finer art of Malory. For though the motive of Malory\u2019s\nepic is less gross and exaggerated than that of Hughes\u2019s drama, the\nthread of guilt and doom which runs from first to last through the\nformer is not less real than in the latter. The crime of Uther\nPendragon, with which the story opens, leads to the concealment of\nArthur\u2019s parentage from himself, and this to his illicit love for her\nwhom he does not know to be his sister, and so to the birth of Mordred.\nThen comes the prophetic doom:\u2014\u2018Ye have done of late a thing that God\nis displeased with you: and your sister shall have a child that shall\ndestroy you and all the knights of your realm.\u2019 Arthur tries in vain to\nprevent the fulfilment of this doom by the only cruel deed of his life:\nand then\u2014after another warning of the woe which his marriage with\nGuinevere will bring on him, through her guilty love for\nLauncelot\u2014these germs of tragic destiny remain hidden through long\nyears of prosperity. Arthur, aided by his fellowship of the Round\nTable, reduces universal anarchy into order: and not only \u2018gets into\nhis hand\u2019 all England, Wales, and Scotland, but by his march to Rome\nmakes himself emperor, and the head of all the kingdoms as well as of\nall the chivalry of Christendom. Still the fame and the honour of the\nking and his knights of the Round Table open continually into new and\nbrighter forms, which seem above the reach of any adverse fate, till\nthe coming of the Sancgreal, into the quest of which all the knights\nenter with that self-reliance which had become them so well in the\nfield of worldly chivalry, but which would be of no avail now. They are\nnow to be tried by other tests than those by which they had been proved\nas \u2018earthly knights and lovers,\u2019 tests which even Launcelot, Ector de\nMaris, Gawaine, and the other chiefest of the fellowship could not\nstand. The quest is achieved by the holy knights alone: two depart from\nthis life to a higher, while Sir Bors, not quite spotless, yet forgiven\nand sanctified, the link between the earthly and the spiritual worlds,\nreturns to aid in restoring the glory of the feasts and tournaments at\nCamelot and Westminster. But the curse is at work: the severance\nbetween good and evil which had been declared through the Sancgreal\ncannot be closed again; and the tragic end comes on, in spite of the\nefforts\u2014touching from their very weakness\u2014of Arthur and Launcelot to\navert the woe, the one by vainly trying to resist temptation, the other\nby refusing to believe evil of his wife and his dearest friend. The\nblack clouds open for a moment as the sun goes down; and we see Arthur\nin the barge which bears him to the Holy Isle; Guenever, the nun of\nAlmesbury, living in fasting, prayers, and almsdeeds; and Launcelot\nwith his fellowship, once knights but now hermit-priests, \u2018doing bodily\nall manner of service.\u2019\nNor are the marks of harmony and unity less plain in the several\ncharacters than in the events of the story. Arthur is a true knight,\nsharing the characteristics of his nobler knights, yet he differs from\nthem all in showing also that he is, and feels himself to be, a king;\nas when\u2014with an imperiousness which reminds us of Froissart\u2019s story of\nEdward III refusing to listen to Sir Walter of Manny\u2019s remonstrances on\nbehalf of the burgesses of Calais\u2014he tells Sir Launcelot that he\n\u2018takes no force whom he grieves,\u2019 or insists on his entering the lists\nagainst a tired knight whom he is not willing to see victorious over\nthe whole field; or as when he sadly regrets that he cannot do battle\nfor his wife, though he believes her innocent, but must be a rightful\njudge according to the laws. There are many others of the Round Table\nwho are \u2018very perfect gentle knights, yet we feel that Launcelot stands\ndistinct among them all in the pre-eminence of his knightliness,\nnotwithstanding his one great sin. Thus, to take one of many instances,\nwho but Launcelot would have borne the taunts and the violence of\nGawaine with his humble patience and ever-renewed efforts for a\nreconciliation, when he was leaving the realm, and when he was besieged\nin Joyous Gard. Modern critics of great name agree in censuring Sir\nThomas Malory for departing from the old authorities who represented\nGawaine as the very counterpart of Launcelot in knightly character: but\nI rather see a proof of Malory\u2019s art in giving us a new Gawaine with a\nstrongly individual character of his own. Gawaine\u2019s regard for his\nmother\u2019s honour, his passion for Ettard, and his affection for his\nbrothers, are fierce impulses driving him to unknightly and unworthy\ndeeds, yet he is far from being represented as a mere savage. If Malory\ndepicts him thirsting to revenge upon Launcelot the unintentional\nkilling of Gaheris and Gareth, he depicts also his long previous\naffection for Launcelot and his opposition to the hostility of his\nother brother, Mordred, against him; his devotion to his uncle Arthur;\nhis hearty repentance towards Launcelot at the last; and his entreaty\nthat he would \u2018see his tomb, and pray some prayer more or less for his\nsoul.\u2019 Nor must we forget that it was by the prayer of those ladies for\nwhom Gawaine had \u2018done battle in a rightwise quarrel,\u2019 that his ghost\nwas permitted to give Arthur a last warning. Distinct again from the\ncharacter of this fierce knight is that of the Saracen Palamides, whose\nunquestionable courage and skill in deeds of chivalry also want\u2014though\nin another way than Gawaine\u2019s\u2014the gentleness, the meekness, and the\ndelicate sense of honour of the Christian knight. Sir Dinadan again,\nwho can give and take hard knocks if need be, though he has no great\nbodily strength, and who is always bantering the good knights who know\nand esteem him with his humorous protests against love and arms, is a\ndistinctly drawn character. So is Merlin, half Christian, half\nmagician, but always with dog-like loyalty to the house of Uther\nPendragon. So is the Bishop of Canterbury, who appears at intervals in\nthe story. So are many others whose names I might recite. The dignity\nof queen Guenever towards her husband and her court is not less marked\nthan her guilty passion for Launcelot, and the unreasoning jealousy it\nexcites in her. The wife-like simplicity of Igraine, the self-surrender\nbeyond all limit, though from different impulses, of the two Elaines,\nthe pertness of the damsel Linet, and the piety and self-sacrifice of\nSir Percivale\u2019s sister, will occur to the reader among the distinctive\ncharacteristics of the different ladies and damsels who live and move,\neach in her own proper form, in the story. Sir Thomas Malory, as we\nknow, found many of these men and women already existing in the old\nromances as he represents them to us; but we may believe that those\nearlier books were to him something of what the pages of Plutarch and\nHolinshed were to Shakespeare.\n MALORY\u2019S USE OF THE OLD ROMANCES.\nIt has been too commonly assumed that, because Caxton says that Sir\nThomas Malory took his work \u2018out of certain books of French and reduced\nit into English,\u2019 he was a mere compiler and translator. But the book\nitself shows that he was its author\u2014its \u2018maker,\u2019 as he would have\ncalled it. Notwithstanding his occasionally inartificial manner of\nconnecting the materials drawn from the old romances, there is an epic\nunity and harmony, \u2018a beginning, a middle, and an end,\u2019 which, if they\nhave come by chance and not of design, have come by that chance which\nonly befalls an Homeric or a Shakespeare-like man. If more instances\nand proofs are needed than have been already given, let us turn to the\nopening chapters of the book. If we compare these with the old romances\nwhich supplied the materials for them, we see at once how Malory has\nconverted prose into poetry, giving life and beauty to the clods of\nearth, and transmuting by his art the legends which he yet faithfully\npreserves. For the long and repulsive narrative of Merlin\u2019s origin[3]\nhe substitutes a slight allusion to it: without disguising what he\nprobably believed to be at least an half historical record of Arthur\u2019s\nbirth, he gives a grace and dignity to the story by the charms of the\nmother\u2019s character, the finer touches of which are wanting in the\noriginal: and so through the whole of this part of the story.\nTwenty-three years ago, I ventured to assert Malory\u2019s claim to epic\ngenius: and now this claim may be farther tested, and as I think,\nestablished, by help of the learned researches of Dr. Sommer. Of these\nI shall state some details, in speaking of the text and its several\neditions, here giving the result so far as it bears on the present\npoint. We may now see how Malory\u2019s \u2018Morte Darthur\u2019 was fused into its\nactual form out of crude materials of ten times its bulk, and that\nwhile he often translated or transcribed the French or English romances\nas they lay before him, on the other hand he not only re-wrote, in\norder to bring into its present shape the whole story, but also varied\nboth the order and the substance of the incidents that so he might give\nthem that epic character, and that beauty in the details, which his\nbook shows throughout. Malory was no doubt a \u2018finder\u2019 as well as a\n\u2018maker,\u2019 but so, I repeat, was Shakespeare, and so was every other\ngreat poet. But the quarry and the building are not the same thing,\nthough the one supplies the rough stones with which the other is raised\nup. We see that there is much that is rude and inartificial in Malory\u2019s\nart. He has built a great, rambling, medi\u00e6val castle, the walls of\nwhich enclose rude and even ruinous work of earlier times, and not a\nGreek Parthenon nor even an Italian palace of the Renaissance. Still,\nit is a grand pile, and tells everywhere of the genius of its builder.\nAnd I ask, as Carlyle once asked me, Who built St. Paul\u2019s? Was it Wren,\nor the hodman who carried up the bricks? But while supporting my\nconclusions as to Malory\u2019s art by the evidence of Dr. Sommer\u2019s facts,\nit is right to add that the conclusions are my own rather than those of\nthis learned critic. His estimate of Malory\u2019s genius in the choice and\ntreatment of his materials falls far short of mine: and I can believe\nthat Malory may have judged rightly, for his own purpose, when he did\nnot take that form of a legend which was in itself the most beautiful.\n MALORY\u2019S HISTORY AND GEOGRAPHY.\nThe most recent critics are disposed to prefer Hume\u2019s and Gibbon\u2019s\nbelief to Milton\u2019s scepticism as to the actual existence of Arthur. But\nupon this question I do not enter. Malory\u2019s historical chapters, as\nthey may be called, seem to be mainly taken from the _Historia\nBrithonum_ of Geoffrey of Monmouth, though much of them is also to be\nfound in the romances[4]. The details of Arthur\u2019s march to Rome are so\naccurate that I think that Malory may have had actual knowledge of the\nroad, which indeed must have been familiar to many men\u2014soldiers,\npriests, and merchants\u2014in the days of Edward IV. But of the rest of\nthe history and the geography of the book before us we can only say\nthat they are something\n \u2018Apart from place, withholding time,\n But flattering the golden prime\u2019\nof the great hero of English romance. We cannot bring within any limits\nof history the events which here succeed each other, when the Lords and\nCommons of England, after the death of King Uther at St. Alban\u2019s,\nassembled at the greatest church of London, guided by the joint policy\nof the magician Merlin and the Christian bishop of Canterbury, and\nelected Arthur to the throne; when Arthur made Carlion, or Camelot, or\nboth, his head-quarters in a war against Cornwall, Wales, and the\nNorth, in which he was victorious by help of the king of France; when\nhe met the demand for tribute by the Roman emperor Lucius with a\ncounter-claim to the empire for himself as the real representative of\nConstantine, held a parliament at York to make the necessary\narrangements, crossed the sea from Sandwich to Barflete in Flanders,\nmet the united forces of the Romans and Saracens in Burgundy, slew the\nemperor in a great battle, together with his allies, the Sowdan of\nSyria, the king of Egypt, and the king of Ethiopia, sent their bodies\nto the Senate and Podest\u00e0 of Rome as the only tribute he would pay, and\nthen followed over the mountains through Lombardy and Tuscany to Rome,\nwhere he was crowned emperor by the Pope, \u2018sojourned there a time,\nestablished all his lands from Rome unto France, and gave lands and\nrealms unto his servants and knights,\u2019 and so returned home to England,\nwhere he seems thenceforth to have devoted himself wholly to his duties\nas the head of Christian knighthood.\nWith the exception just mentioned, the geography is fanciful enough;\nand we need the magic of Merlin, or of some conjuror-poet like him of\nHorace, to set us with the required disregard of time successively in\nCarleon, Carlisle, Winchester, London, St. Alban\u2019s, and Camelot. The\nstory opens within a night\u2019s ride of the castle of Tintagil. Thence we\npass to St. Alban\u2019s, to London, and to Carlion. This last is, no doubt,\nCaerleon-upon-Usk; but it seems through this, as in other romances, to\nbe interchangeable in the author\u2019s mind with Carlisle, or (as written\nin its Anglo-Norman form) Cardoile, which latter in the History of\nMerlin is said to be in Wales, while elsewhere Wales and Cumberland are\nconfounded in like manner. So of Camelot, where Arthur chiefly held his\ncourt, Caxton in his Preface speaks as though it were in Wales,\nprobably meaning Caerleon, where the Roman amphitheatre is still called\nArthur\u2019s Round Table. Malory himself, though at page 49 he seems to\nconnect Camelot with Avelion, or Glastonbury, yet farther on, page 63,\nsays that Camelot is Winchester, where, too, there is a Round Table,\nmentioned by Caxton, and still to be seen,\u2014an oaken board with the\nknights\u2019 names on it. And yet at the time these authorities wrote\nCamelot itself existed in Somersetshire with its proper name, and with\nall the remains of an important town and fortress, and, doubtless, the\ntraditions of Arthur which Leland found there, and which in great part\nat least remain to this day. Leland calls it Camallate or Camalat,\n\u2018sometime a famous town or castle, upon a very torre or hill,\nwonderfully enstrengthened of nature[5].\u2019 Four ditches and as many\nwalls surrounded a central space of about thirty acres where\nfoundations and remains of walls might be seen, and whence Roman\npavements, urns, coins, and other relics have been found up to the\npresent time. I find it called the Castle of Camellek in maps of the\ndates of 1575 and 1610, and in that of the 1727 edition of Camden\u2019s\nMagna Britannica, the text of which says \u2018the inhabitants call it King\nArthur\u2019s Palace.\u2019 But soon after that date a learned antiquarian[6]\nwrites that the name had been superseded by that of Cadbury Castle,\nwhich trilingual appellation may seem to indicate the Roman, British,\nand Saxon possessors by whom it was probably held in succession. The\nneighbouring villages which, according to Leland, bore \u2018the name of\nCamalat with an addition, as Queen-Camel,\u2019 still exist as Queen-Camel,\nor East Camel, and West Camel, and near by runs the river Camel,\ncrossed by Arthur\u2019s Bridge. Arthur\u2019s well still springs from the hill\nside; and if Arthur\u2019s Hunting Causeway in the field below, Arthur\u2019s\nRound Table and Arthur\u2019s Palace within the camp, cannot still, as of\nold, be pointed out to the visitor, the peasant girl will still tell\nhim that within that charmed circle they who look may see through\ngolden gates a king sitting in the midst of his court. Drayton\ndescribes the river Ivel in Somersetshire as\n \u2018The nearest neighbouring flood to Arthur\u2019s ancient seat,\n Which made the Britaines name thro\u2019 all the world so great.\n Like Camelot what place was ever yet renown\u2019d?\n Where, as at Caerleon, oft he kept the Table Round,\n Most famous for the sports at Pentecost so long,\n From whence all knightly deeds and brave atchievements sprong[7].\u2019\nThese old legendary traditions, pleasant to hear or to know of, have\nbeen collected by another Somersetshire antiquarian, the late Rev. J.\nH. Bennett, Rector of South Cadbury[8]. Together with the legends told\nby Leland and others, and those which he himself gathered on the spot,\nMr. Bennett has given a carefully detailed topographical description of\nthe old town and fortress of Camelot, strong by nature and strengthened\nby art, where the Britons made their last stand against the Saxons; and\nhe has shewn how its strategical position was connected, in fact as\nwell as in romance, with the Isle of Avallon, the Monastery of\nGlastonbury, and the Nunnery of Almesbury. He thinks that during the\nhundred years which followed the taking of Sarum by the Saxons A. D.\n551, during which (except in the capture of Bath in 577 A. D.) they\nmade no further progress in the conquest of Somersetshire, Camelot\nbecame the capital of the South British kingdoms, and stemmed the tide\nof war in this direction by its great line of strongholds; and he thus\nsuggests that we may have here the historical circumstances which\nconnected or helped to connect, the legends of the great British hero\nwith Camelot. Leland, who wrote his _Itinerary_ early in Henry VIII\u2019s\nreign, mentions, among other relics found at Camelot, a silver\nhorseshoe, and Mr. Bennett gives us the words of one of the Cadbury\npeasants who told him \u2018folks do say that on the night of the full moon\nKing Arthur and his men ride round the hill, and their horses are shod\nwith silver, and a silver shoe has been found in the track where they\ndo ride, and when they have ridden round the hill they stop to water\ntheir horses at the wishing well.\u2019 But more than three hundred years\nbefore Leland wrote, this still living legend had been recorded by\nGervase of Tilbury, who, in his _Otia Imperialia_ (date about 1212)\nsays that in the woods of Britain the foresters, as the common people\ncall the keepers of the woods and wild game, tell that on alternate\ndays, about noon, or at midnight when the moon is full and shining,\nthey often see an array of hunters with dogs and sound of horns, who,\nin answer to the enquirers, say that they are of the household and\nfellowship of Arthur. And, what is still more curious, Gervase, in the\nsame place, gives a legend of Arthur, of Mount Etna, which singularly\ncorresponds with that just mentioned as still living among the mounds\nof ancient Camelot. He tells that the horse of the Bishop of Catania\nhad run away from his groom, and when the groom was following him up\nthe precipitous side of the mountain, he came upon an open place where\nwas the Great Arthur, resting upon a couch. Arthur ordered the horse to\nbe brought back and restored to the bishop, sent him presents, and\nrelated how he had lain there, all those years, suffering from wounds\nhe had received in the battle with his nephew Mordred, and Childeric\nthe leader of the Saxons[9]. The British story of Arthur and the\nKnights of the Round Table had spread through Italy by the side of the\nFrench romances of Roland and Charlemagne[10] but this curious transfer\nof an incident from Camelot in Somersetshire, to Mount Etna in Sicily\nseems as if it must have been due to some Norman troubadour who had\nactually passed from one land to the other, and given the proper local\ncolouring to the story in its new home as the bee carries fertility\nfrom one garden to another. Scotland, too, among the stories by which\nshe claimed her part in Arthur and his knights, had a tale how \u2018Arthour\nKnycht he raid on nycht with gylten spur and candel lycht[11].\u2019\nLegend tells that Glastonbury\u2014founded by Joseph of Arimathea, and his\nburial-place, though his body was vainly sought in Edward III\u2019s\nreign\u2014possesses the coffin of Arthur. It is said that Henry II found\nthe bodies of Arthur and Guenever there, and that Guenever had yellow\nhair. Their skulls were afterwards taken for relics by Edward\nLongshanks and Eleanor.\nAlmesbury, where Guenever died a nun, is a town in Wiltshire, seven and\na half miles from Salisbury, where may still be seen the ruins of its\ncelebrated abbey. The name was originally Ambrosebury, then Ambresbury,\nand lastly Amesbury, as it is now spelt.\nThe ruins of the castle of Tintagil, too, may still be seen in Cornwall.\nJoyous Gard, Launcelot\u2019s favourite castle, is sometimes identified with\nBerwick. Malory tells us that \u2018some men say it was Anwick, and some men\nsay it was Bamborow.\u2019 Bamborow, or Bamborough, is in Northumberland,\nsixteen miles southeast of Berwick. The castle, founded in the middle\nof the sixth century, which is the supposed time of Arthur\u2019s reign,\nstands on a high rock projecting into the North Sea. It now contains a\ngranary, hospital, and other endowments made for the poor in 1715 by\nLord Crewe, bishop of Durham. Did he think of his predecessor\nLauncelot, and his doles of \u2018flesh, fish, wine and ale, and twelve\npence to any man and woman, come who would?\u2019\nThe names of some other places in this book are given in the Glossary.\nLet us turn to the Sangreal, or Holy Grail, the Quest of which forms so\nimportant a part of Malory\u2019s book. The word \u2018Grail\u2019 means a dish, a\ndrinking vessel, or a tureen, in the Romance language, and is probably\nderived from the Low Latin \u2018gradalis\u2019 or \u2018grasalis\u2019; and this from the\nGreek \u2018crater\u2019: and the old writers describe it sometimes as a shallow\nvessel for holding food, and sometimes as a cup[12]. The legend of the\nGrail is traced back to Pagan times, where it appears as a miraculously\nfood-producing vessel, of which we perhaps see a survival in the coming\nof the Sangreal to Launcelot and King Pelles, and at the feast of\nPentecost which led to the Quest:\u2014\n\u2018Then there entered into the hall the holy Grail covered with white\nsamite, but there was none might see it, nor who bare it. And there was\nall the hall full filled with good odours, and every knight had such\nmeats and drinks as he best loved in this world: and when the holy\nGrail had been borne through the hall, then the holy vessel departed\nsuddenly, that they wist not where it became.\u2019\nBut in the Christian form into which the legend passed, the Grail\nbecame either the dish which held the paschal lamb at the Last Supper,\nthe vessel in which Joseph of Arimathea had received the Saviour\u2019s\nblood, or the sacramental cup itself. Mr. Alfred Nutt has treated the\nwhole subject with exhaustive learning in his \u2018Studies of the Legend of\nthe Holy Grail,\u2019 and his article \u2018Grail, the Holy\u2019 in Chambers\u2019\nEncyclopaedia. But when I say that one only of the many stories of\nwhich Mr. Nutt gives an account is a poem of 60,000 verses, I shall not\nbe expected to attempt any summary of his book. I shall content myself\nwith the more popular account of the Sangreal, in its immediate\nrelation to Malory\u2019s Morte Darthur. According to the romances of Le S.\nGraal, Lancelot du Lac, Perceforest, and Morte Arthur, the Sangreal, or\nHoly Graal, was the dish which held the paschal lamb of the Last\nSupper. Joseph of Arimathea having gone into the house where the Supper\nhad been eaten, took away the dish, and in it received the blood from\nthe wounds of Jesus; and this dish, \u2018with part of the blood of our\nLord,\u2019 he brought with him into England, and with it converted many\nheathens; and it was kept in a tower expressly built for it at\nCorbenicy. The romance of Merlin says that \u2018this vessel was brought to\nthis said knight [Joseph of Arimathea] by our Lord Jesu Christ while he\nwas in prison xl. winter, him to comfort,\u2019 but does not mention its\nearlier history.\nWhen Caxton replied to the \u2018noble and divers gentlemen of this realm of\nEngland\u2019 who urged him to print the history of Arthur, that many\npersons held the opinion that there was no such Arthur, \u2018one in\nspecial\u2019 insisted that this was mere blindness, since Arthur\u2019s\nsepulchre was to be seen at Glastonbury, Gawaine\u2019s skull at Dover, the\nRound Table at Winchester, as well as many other relics. And if this\nnoble gentleman had only known it, he might have added that the Holy\nGrail itself was to be seen in the Cathedral Church of Genoa. There it\nis still shewn. It is an hexagonal dish, about seventeen inches across,\nand was long supposed to be a single emerald, which stone it resembles\nin colour and brilliancy. It is called \u2018Sagro Catino,\u2019 with a tradition\nwhich makes it to be the Holy Grail we have just described, and with\nthe addition that it was brought to Solomon by the Queen of Sheba. It\nwas taken, on the capture of Caesarea, by the Genoese under Guglielmo\nEmbriaco in 1101 A. D. Like the other plunder of Italian cities it was\ntaken to Paris by Napoleon I, and restored after the peace of 1815, but\nwas broken in pieces on the road from careless packing. It is now kept\ntogether by a wire frame: and when I saw it in the Cathedral treasury a\nfew years since I was gravely told that it was broken in its return\nfrom the Paris \u2018Exposition\u2019 of Napoleon III[13].\n INFLUENCE OF THE BOOK ON ENGLISH LETTERS AND LIFE.\nThe influence of Sir Thomas Malory\u2019s book upon English literature, and\nso upon English life, upon our thoughts, morals, and manners, has been\ngreat and important. I have spoken of its claims to be considered an\nEpic poem; but it is not the less true, that it is our first great work\nof English prose, the first in which the writing of prose was shown to\nbe one of the fine arts for England. Malory\u2019s style is often\ninartificial: he is not always able to master the huge masses of his\nmaterials, and fails to fuse and mould them into a perfect whole. But\nwe must confess the like of Milton, whose grand periods of magnificent\nEnglish are often followed by others which are confused and cumbrous in\nform, if not in thought. It has taken many workmen, through many\ngenerations, to make our prose writing what it is: but there is an\ninfant beauty in Malory\u2019s style which is full of promise of the perfect\nmanly form that is to be. The passages which I have already quoted are\ninstances of this inartificial beauty of style. The thoughts and images\nspontaneously utter themselves in words without any attempt at\nrhetorical balance and arrangement. Thus in the lament of Sir Ector\nover Sir Launcelot, Malory does not ask himself whether there is a\nlogical connection between courtesy and bearing a shield, or between\ntrue friendship and bestriding a horse, as a modern writer would have\ndone, and so brought those sentences into a more finished though more\nmonotonous correspondence with the rest. The flow of feeling is true,\ndirect, and simple, and that is enough. Dr. Sommer, in his notes on the\nlanguage of \u2018Le Morte Darthur,\u2019 points to the indications, in grammar,\nspelling, and other usages of words, of its transitional place between\nthe language of Chaucer and that of Shakespeare; while Southey says\nthat it was composed in the best possible time for making it what it\nis: and Mr. J. A. Symonds (whom I am permitted to name) says:\u2014\u2018The\nMorte Darthur was written at a lucky moment in our literary history,\nwhen the old Saxon fountain of speech was yet undefiled, and when\nprinting had not introduced stereotyped forms or enforced the laws of a\ntoo scrupulous grammar; at the same time the language is truly\nEnglish\u2014rich in French and Latin words, as well as Saxon, and not so\narchaic as to be grotesque or repulsive[14].\nAnd if in these things Malory was happy in the opportuneness of the\ntimes in which he wrote, not less was he so in that he lived in a day\nin which (as we see from Caxton\u2019s Preface) men could still believe in\nthe marvellous adventures of knight-errantry. A hundred years later,\nthe spirit of chivalry had so departed from the old forms that Spenser\ncould only use them as materials for allegory, while Cervantes, himself\nfull of the old spirit, could only treat the belief in knight-errantry\nas the fantasy of a crazed though generous mind. But Malory was still\nable to embody the ideals of chivalry in actual and serious personages,\nand so to influence the national character and manners of his\ncountrymen in the best way. His book is a possession for all times. The\nold stock is still putting out new leaves and fruits for ourselves.\n THE MORALITY OF THE BOOK.\nIn morals as well as in language (though more obscurely, since the\nsubject of morals is so much more complicated than that of philology),\nwe may find signs of a transition from the times of Chaucer to those of\nShakespeare, and of progress no less than transition. The suppression\nof the Lollards\u2014hated alike by the Church and the feudal lords, the\nWar of the Roses, and the licentiousness of the court and courtiers,\nmust, in the days of Edward IV, in which Malory wrote, have cut the\nmoral and social life of the country down to its roots. Yet even in\nMalory\u2019s book there are signs of the new moral life which was coming,\nand which in the days of the Reformation reached a power and expansion\nnever before known. It would be absurd to pretend that Malory had\ngreatly advanced in morality from the position of Chaucer and his age\ntowards that of the Elizabethan period. Roger Ascham, indeed, while\nadmitting that \u2018ten Morte Arthurs do not the tenth part so much harm as\none of these books made in Italy and translated in England,\u2019 protests\nagainst the demoralising effect of the literature of which he takes\nthis book as the example, \u2018the whole pleasure of which,\u2019 he says,\n\u2018standeth in two special points\u2014in open manslaughter and bold bawdray.\nIn which book those be counted the noblest knights that do kill most\nmen without any quarrel, and commit foulest adulteries by subtlest\nshifts[15].\u2019 I remember Dante\u2019s story of the sin and doom of Paolo and\nFrancesca\u2014\n \u2018Galeotto fu il libro, e chi lo scrisse\u2019\u2014\nand recognise a real though only half truth in Ascham\u2019s strictures. But\nhe greatly over-states the evil, while he altogether omits to recognise\nthe good in the book. Caxton\u2019s estimate of the moral purport of the\nwhole book, gives not merely the other side, but both sides of the\ncase. Much more than half the \u2018open manslaughter\u2019 is done in putting\ndown cruel oppressors and bringing back kingdoms from anarchy to law\nand good government; and the occasions call forth all the knightly\nvirtues of gentleness, forbearance, and self-sacrifice, as well as\nthose of courage and hardihood. And though it is far from possible to\ndeny the weight of Ascham\u2019s other charge, yet we must not, in forming\nour estimate of the book, forget the silent yet implied judgment which\nis passed upon lawless love by its tragic end, nor the ideal presented\nin the lives of the maiden knights, Sir Galahad and Sir Percivale. For\nthe purpose of a due estimate of Malory\u2019s \u2018Morte Darthur,\u2019 we may\nfairly take Caxton\u2019s Preface as an integral part of the book. The\nPreface gives the tone, the motive, to the whole book. The morality of\n\u2018Morte Darthur\u2019 is low in one essential thing, and this alike in what\nit says and in what it omits: and Lord Tennyson shows us how it should\nbe raised. The ideal of marriage, in its relation and its contrast with\nall other forms of love and chastity, is brought out in every form,\nrising at last to tragic grandeur, in the _Idylls of the King_. It is\nnot in celibacy, though spiritual and holy as that of Galahad or\nPercivale, but in marriage, as the highest and purest realisation of\nthe ideal of human conditions and relations, that we are to rise above\nthe temptations of a love like that of Launcelot or even of Elaine; and\nMalory\u2019s book does not set this ideal of life before us with any power\nor clearness. In no age or country has the excellence of marriage, as\nthe highest condition of man\u2019s life, been wholly unknown: but Luther\nand the Reformation brought it first into the full light of day, when\nhe, a monk, married a nun, and thus in the name of God, declared that\nthe vows of marriage were more sacred and more binding than those of\nthe convent, and that the one might be lawfully set aside by the other.\nAnd we know how this ideal of love in marriage is worked out by\nShakespeare. With Shakespeare it is marriage which explains, justifies,\nforgives, glorifies, and blesses every prosperous and happy condition\nof life, and gives an abiding peace as well as dignity to the closing\nscenes of his deepest tragedies. Marriage not only sheds its radiance\nupon the loves of Ferdinand and Miranda, and of Rosalind and Orlando,\nbut on all around them: marriage justifies the boldness of Helena as\nthe love of Elaine, touching as its self-surrender is, cannot do: it\nsecures forgiveness to the weak and foolish Leontes, and even to the\nworthless Angelo; it is to the husband of Desdemona that we find\nourselves constrained to accord the pardon and the sympathy which she\nherself had given him. And no one will know Hamlet as he is, nor fully\nunderstand his tragic destiny, unless he sees what it might have been,\nas his mother saw it, when she exclaims:\u2014\n \u2018Sweets to the sweet, farewell!\n I hoped thou shouldst have been my Hamlet\u2019s wife;\n I thought thy bridal bed to have deck\u2019d, sweet maid,\n And not have strew\u2019d thy grave.\u2019\nBut this is Shakespeare\u2019s Ophelia, not the preposterous misconception\nof Tieck and Goethe, who should have been warned by Polonius not \u2018to\ncast beyond themselves in their opinions.\u2019\nIf Morte Arthur does not deserve the unqualified denunciation of the\nlearned Ascham, it cannot be denied that it exhibits a picture of a\nsociety far lower than our own in morals, and depicts it with far less\nrepugnance to its evil elements, on the part either of the author or\nhis personages, than any good man would now feel. Still\u2014with the\nexception of stories like those of the birth of Arthur and Galahad,\nwhich show not only another state of manners from our own, but also a\nreally different standard of morals from any which we should now hold\nup\u2014the writer does for the most part endeavour, though often in but an\nimperfect and confused manner, to distinguish between vice and virtue,\nand honestly to reprobate the former; and thus shows that his object is\nto recognize and support the nobler elements of the social state in\nwhich he lived, and to carry them towards new triumphs over the evil.\nAnd even where, as in the story of Tristram, there is palliation rather\nthan reprobation of what Sir Walter Scott justly calls \u2018the extreme\ningratitude and profligacy of the hero,\u2019 still the fact that such\npalliation, by representing King Mark as the most worthless of men, was\nthought necessary in the later, though not in the earlier, romance on\nthe same subject, shows an upward progress in morals; while a real\neffort to distinguish virtue from vice is to be seen in the story of\nLauncelot, with his sincere though weak struggles against temptation,\nand his final penitence under the punishment of the woes which his\nguilt has brought on all dear to him as well as to himself. Or if we\nlook at the picture which Chaucer\u2019s works give us of the co-existence\nin one mind\u2014and that one of the noblest of its age\u2014of the most\nvirtuous Christian refinement and the most brutish animal coarseness,\nand then see how in the pages of Malory, inferior as we must hold him\nto be to Chaucer, the brutish vice has dwindled to half its former\nsize, and is far more clearly seen to be vice, while the virtue, if not\nmore elevated in itself, is more avowedly triumphant over the evil, we\nfind the same upward progress. And I cannot doubt that it was helped on\nby this book, and that notwithstanding Ascham\u2019s condemnation of Morte\nArthur, Caxton was right in believing that he was serving God and his\ncountrymen by printing it; and that he justly estimated its probable\neffect when he says, \u2018Herein may be seen noble chivalry, courtesy,\nhumanity, friendliness, hardiness, love, friendship, cowardice, murder,\nhate, virtue, sin. Do after the good, and leave the evil, and it shall\nbring you to good fame and renomm\u00e9e.... All is written for our\ndoctrine, and for to beware that we fall not to vice nor sin, but to\nexercise and follow virtue, by which we may come and attain to good\nfame and renomm\u00e9 in this life, and after this short and transitory life\nto come unto everlasting bliss in heaven; the which He grant us that\nreigneth in heaven, the blessed Trinity. Amen.\u2019\n SPENSER, MILTON, TENNYSON.\nIt can hardly be doubted that Spenser, while drawing largely from\nGeoffrey of Monmouth, was acquainted with Malory\u2019s story of Arthur, if\nnot with the earlier romances also. We might have known this with\ncertainty, if Spenser had completed his great design which he sketched\nin his letter to Sir Walter Raleigh, prefixed to the first three books\nof the _Faerie Queene_, and after labouring \u2018to pourtrait in Arthur\nbefore he was king, the image of a brave knight, perfected in the\ntwelve Morall Vertues,\u2019 he might have been \u2018perhaps encouraged to frame\nthe other part of Politick Vertues in his person, after that he came to\nbe King.\u2019 He farther identifies his hero as the son of the Lady\nIgraine, and the infant charge of Merlin, and his description of the\nRedcross Knight and his claim to the adventure of Una, must forcibly\nrecall Malory\u2019s story of Beaumains and the lady Linet, notwithstanding\nthe differences between the two. Beyond this, there is the evidence of\ngeneral literary probability. Spenser\u2019s ideals of knighthood and\nknight-errantry are so much in harmony with those of Malory, while they\nrise into a far higher moral life, that it does not seem unreasonable\nto suppose a relation between the two, and to believe that we owe to\nMalory the transmission from the earlier romances of all that was worth\npreserving in these to the generation which could give birth to the\n_Faerie Queene_.\nAnd while Spenser strove to carry forward the national life of his\ncountrymen by presenting the noblest ideals of chivalry under the old\nforms of romance, Shakespeare was embodying them in the new forms\ndestined thenceforth to take the place of the old, and showing us in a\nFerdinand, a Prince Henry, or a Hamlet, the ideals of the _Gentleman_,\nwhile the Sydneys and the Raleighs were presenting the counterpart in\nactual life. Ben Jonson, too, though he makes fun of \u2018the whole sum of\nErrant Knighthood\u2019 in his _Execration upon Vulcan_, elsewhere describes\nthe old training of pages and squires in chivalry, as \u2018the noblest way\nof breeding up our youth in all the blazon of a gentleman.\u2019\nOf Milton\u2019s debt to Malory there is no less probability. He no doubt\nknew the other legends of Arthur, but Malory\u2019s book must surely have\nhad some part in taking that hold on his imagination, and exercising\nthat influence in the formation of his character and life, of which he\nhimself tells us. In his poem addressed to Giovanni Battista Manso,\nMarquis of Villa, the friend of Tasso, and of himself when he visited\nNaples, he says:\u2014\n \u2018O mihi si mea sors talem concedat amicum;\n Phoebaeos decorasse viros qui tam bene n\u00f4rit,\n Si quando indigenas revocabo in carmina reges,\n Arturumque etiam sub terris bella moventem;\n Aut dicam invictae sociali foedere mensae\n Magnanimos Heroas, et (O modo spiritus adsit)\n Frangam Saxonicas Britonem sub Marte phalanges.\u2019\u2014_Mansus_ 78[16].\nThe like hope and purpose of writing an Epic poem of British story is\nto be found in the _Epitaphium Damonis_. And in his defence of his life\nin the \u2018Apology for Smectymnuus,\u2019 he says:\u2014\n\u2018Next, (for hear me out now, readers), that I may tell ye whither my\nyounger feet wandered; I betook me among those lofty fables and\nromances, which recount in solemn cantos the deeds of knighthood\nfounded by our victorious kings, and from thence had in renown over all\nchristendom. There I read it in the oath of every knight, that he\nshould defend to the expence of his best blood, or of his life, if it\nso befel him, the honour and chastity of virgin or matron; from whence\neven then I learned what a noble virtue chastity sure must be, to the\ndefence of which so many worthies, by such a dear adventure of\nthemselves, had sworn; and if I found in the story afterward, any of\nthem, by word or deed breaking that oath, I judged it the same fault of\nthe poet, as that which is attributed to Homer, to have written\nindecent things of the gods; only this my mind gave me, that every free\nand gentle spirit, without that oath, ought to be born a knight, nor\nneeded to expect the gilt spur, or the laying of a sword upon his\nshoulder to stir him up both by his counsel and his arms, to secure and\nprotect the weakness of any attempted chastity. So that even these\nbooks, which to many others have been the fuel of wantonness and loose\nliving; I cannot think how, unless by divine indulgence, proved to me\nso many incitements, as you have heard, to the love and steadfast\nobservation of virtue.\u2019\nIn a word, not the fears of Ascham but the hopes of Caxton were now\nfulfilled in Milton\u2019s study of the old romances.\nAnd though it were idle and mistaken to wish that the poet had finally\nchosen the Death of Arthur rather than Paradise Lost, the lovers of the\nstory of the Round Table may be forgiven if they wish it were possible\nto call up him who left untold that story as it would have been seen in\nthe light of his genius.\nSuch a transformation has, indeed, been effected for us by Lord\nTennyson in his _Idylls of the King_. He who has been familiar with the\nold Morte Arthur from his boyhood, must consent to let the poet\ntransport him into a quite new region of the imagination, and must in a\nmanner and for the time forget the old before he can read the _Idylls\nof the King_ without a somewhat sad feeling that these are not the old\nknights whom he has always known. I have already likened Malory\u2019s work\nto a medi\u00e6val castle, and, if I may be allowed to vary my parable a\nlittle, I would say this: There are some of us who in their childhood\nlived in, or can at least remember, some old house, with its tower and\nturret stairs, its hall with the screen, and the minstrel\u2019s gallery,\nand the armour where it was hung up by him who last wore it: the\npanelled chambers, the lady\u2019s bower, and the chapel, and all the quaint\nrambling passages and steps which lead from one to another of these.\nAnd when in after years he comes to this same house, and finds that it\nhas all been remodelled, enlarged, furnished and beautified to meet the\nneeds and the tastes of modern life, he feels that this is not the very\nhome of his childhood, and that a glory has departed from the scenes he\nonce knew: and yet, if the changes have been made with true judgment,\nand only with a rightful recognition of the claim that the modern life\nshould have full scope for itself while preserving all that was\npossible of the old, though not letting itself be sacrificed or even\ncramped and limited, for its sake: if he is thus reasonable, he will\nacknowledge that it was well that the old order should yield place to\nthe new, or at least make room for it at its side. And such are the\nthoughts and sentiments with which the lover of the old Morte Arthur\nwill, if he be also a student of the growth of our national character\nand life, read the new _Idylls of the King_.\nOf Sir Thomas Malory himself we know nothing more than can be inferred\nby probable conjecture from his book. His name occurs in it three\ntimes, and with the three variations of Malorye, Malory, and Maleore.\nThese variations are not singular, for the spelling of proper as well\nas of common names was very much at the fancy of the writer; and we\nknow that Shakespeare, Marvell, and Pym, wrote their own names in\nvarious forms. Sir Thomas Malory tells us that his book was ended in\nthe ninth year of the reign of Edward IV, or 1470 A.D.; and at that\ntime there was an old and important Yorkshire family of the name at\nHutton Coniers and High Studley, near Ripon; for Leland, early in the\nnext century, speaks of the ancestors of Malory[17], and in 1427 and\n1472 the death or burial of two persons of the same name is recorded at\nRipon[18]. Andrew Mallorie of Middlesex _armiger_ is among the\ncontributors to the funds for defence against the Spanish Armada\n(1588)[19]. At the beginning of the seventeenth century we find Sir\nJohn Mallory of Studley, and son of Sir William Mallory, M.P. for\nThirsk and Ripon, and a subscriber to the second Virginia Charter[20]:\nin 1622 Burton speaks of the pedigree, arms, and lands of Sir Thomas\nMalory in Kirby-Malory, Winwick, Newbould, and Swinford in\nLeicestershire[21]; and about the same time two scholars of the name\nwere elected to Winchester College[22]; and reasonable conjecture may\nconnect our author with these Malorys, although no links of actual\npedigree have been found.\nThe _Biographia Britannica_ (article \u2018Caxton\u2019) says:\u2014\n\u2018If this Sir Thomas Malory was a Welshman, as Leland and others after\nhim assert, he was probably a Welsh Priest; as appears not only by the\nlegendary vein which runs through all the stories he has thus extracted\nand wove together, but by his conclusion of the work itself, in these\nwords: \u201cPray for me, whyle I am on lyve, that God sende me good\ndelyveraunce; and when I am deed, I praye you all, praye for my soule;\nfor this booke was ended the 9th yeer of the reygne of Kyng Edward the\nFourth, by Syr Thomas Maleore, Knyght, as Jesu helpe him for his grete\nmyght, as he is the _servaunte_ of Jesu, bothe day and nyght.\u201d\u2019\nBut no references are given as to where this supposed assertion by\n\u2018Leland and others\u2019 is to be found; in fact, it is not to be found in\nany of Leland\u2019s writings. And the origin of the statement remained an\nunexplained puzzle, until Dr. Sommer has now apparently discovered the\nkey to it in a passage which he quotes from Bale\u2019s _Illustrium Maioris\nBritanni\u00e6 Scriptorum_, &c., first edition, folio 208. In this passage,\nBale, after praising Thomas Mailorius and his history of King Arthur,\ngoes on to say, \u2018_Est Mailoria in finibus Cambri\u00e6 regio_,\u2019 on the\nauthority of Leland[23]. I have not myself verified these references,\nbut I infer from what Dr. Sommer tells us, that Bale, perhaps writing\nfrom an imperfect recollection, supposed that he had the authority of\nLeland for a connection between Mailorius, and the Welsh place of the\nlike name: and then the writer of the _Biographia Britannica_, still\nmore inaccurately, converted the possible suggestion of Bale into the\ndirect statement that Leland had asserted Malory to be a Welshman,\nwhile Bale himself is referred to as \u2018the others.\u2019 Nor is there any\nreason to suppose from Malory\u2019s own book that he was a Welshman. Though\nCaxton tells us that there were books in Welsh about Arthur and his\nKnights, Malory never quotes any but the French and English books. He\nshows no acquaintance with Welsh legends or traditions, unless it be\nwith those in Geoffrey of Monmouth, who wrote in Latin, nor of any\nlocal knowledge of Welsh places. Then as to the fanciful and\ninconsequent conjecture that he was a priest, he himself tells us that\nhe was a knight, and thus implies that he was not a priest, while the\nwords that \u2018he is the servant of Jesu by day and by night,\u2019 which\nsuggested the notion that he was a priest, are evidently put into that\nform in order to give a rhythmical ending to the book. Nor did the\npriest\u2019s usual title of \u2018Sir\u2019 make him a knight. What we may say of Sir\nThomas Malory is that he was probably of an old English family: that he\nwas a knight both in rank and in temper and spirit, and a lover alike\nof the gentle and the soldierly virtues of knighthood. He was a man of\ngenius, and a devout Christian: he wrote for gentlewomen as well as\ngentlemen, believing that they would read his book \u2018from the beginning\nto the ending,\u2019 and that it would call forth in them a sympathy which\nwould properly express itself in prayers for the pious writer.\nOf William Caxton we know more. A native of Kent, he became an\napprentice, freeman, and livery man of the London Guild of Mercers, and\nwas for many years resident in the English factory at Bruges, which was\nunder their chief authority, though it represented and controlled all\nEnglish trading interests in the Low Countries. Such factories were the\nusual, and indeed essential means of carrying on trade with foreign\nnations in the Middle Ages. Thus charters were granted by Henry IV and\nhis successors to \u2018Merchant Adventurers\u2019 trading in Flanders, which, in\ngiving them a corporate character, enabled them to treat with the\nauthorities of the country more effectually than would have been\npossible to private individuals, and also to exercise needful control\nover, and give protection to, their own countrymen in the place. Though\nthese Merchant Adventurers included many of the City Guilds, the\nmajority were Mercers, and the factory at Bruges, while called \u2018the\nEnglish Nation,\u2019 and its house \u2018the English House,\u2019 was practically\nunder the management of the London Mercers\u2019 Guild. Mr. Blades has given\nan engraving from _Flandria Illustrata_ of the \u2018Domus Anglorum\u2019 at\nBruges as it was in Caxton\u2019s time; and he thus describes the mode of\nlife of its inhabitants:\u2014\n \u2018A great similarity prevailed in the internal management of all\n foreign guilds, arising from the fact that foreigners were regarded\n by the natives with jealousy and suspicion. The laws which governed\n the Esterlings in London, who lived in a strongly-built enclosure,\n called the Steel Yard, the site of which is now occupied by the\n City station of the South Eastern Railway Company, were much the\n same as those under which the English Nation lived in Bruges and\n other cities. The foreign merchant had, in Caxton\u2019s time, to brave\n a large amount of popular dislike, and to put up with great\n restraints on his liberty. Not only did he trade under harassing\n restrictions, but he resigned all hopes of domestic ties and family\n life. As in a monastery, each member had his own dormitory, whilst\n at meal-times there was a common table. Marriage was out of the\n question, and concubinage was followed by expulsion. Every member\n was bound to sleep in the house, and to be in-doors by a fixed time\n in the evening, and for the sake of good order no woman of any\n description was allowed within the walls[24].\u2019\nTo this house of the English in Bruges Caxton went to live in the year\n1441, being then probably about twenty years of age. In 1462 he was\nacting as \u2018Governor of the English Nation in the Low Countries,\u2019 and\ncertainly in full possession of that office and title two or three\nyears later. And in 1465 he was appointed by Edward IV one of two\nenvoys with the title of Ambassadors, to negociate a renewal of the\nexisting treaty of trade with the Duke of Burgundy. We do not know at\nwhat time he began to combine his literary studies or his acquaintance\nwith the new art of printing with the prosecution of his official\nduties: but he tells us that in 1471, at the request of Margaret,\nsister of Edward IV and wife of the Duke of Burgundy, he completed his\ntranslation of the _Recuyell of the Histories of Troye_ which he had\nbegun, but laid aside unfinished some time before. And then, in order\nto meet the desire of many friends to have copies of this translation,\nhe printed such copies for their use.\nHe was now in the service of Margaret, and married; and about the year\n1476, after thirty-five years\u2019 residence abroad, he returned to\nEngland, there to introduce the Printing Press, and to make himself\nfamous to all ages by so doing. Caxton was not only a printer, but a\ntranslator, an editor, and the publisher of the books which he printed\nin unfailing succession, during the remaining fifteen years of his\nlife. He was the first of that honourable order of publishers who from\nhis day to our own still share with authors the gratitude of men for\nthat inestimable boon, the Printed Book. There are still publishers\namong us who, like Caxton, are themselves authors and editors of no\nunimportant ability: and not only to them, but also to those who aspire\nonly to be the publishers of other men\u2019s books, do we owe\u2014what even\nthe art of printing could have done little towards giving us\u2014that\nbroad spreading[25] of knowledge which has become to us like the common\nlight of day in which we live and move, only half conscious of its\nblessings. Mr. Blades justly defends Caxton against Gibbon\u2019s censure of\nhim because he did not print the ancient classics. He did far better.\nHe printed and published translations from those classics for men who\ncould not read the originals; and it was surely no loss, but the\ngreatest gain, to Englishmen that he enabled them to read Chaucer\u2019s\n_Canterbury Tales_ and the _Polychronicon of English History_ (which\nlatter he carried down to his own time) rather than if he had printed\nVirgil and Livy in the original Latin. He laid the foundations of\npopular English literature in the best possible way. He taught his\ncountrymen to read, by giving them a large and judiciously selected\nsuccession, year by year, of books which they could and would read. He\ngave them books of piety and devotion, poetry and history, of chivalry\nand romance, of morals and manners, including his own translations of\nCicero\u2019s _Old Age and Friendship_; of proverbs, fables, and classical\nlegends; of statutes of the realm; and the _Game of Chess_, an allegory\nof civil government. We cannot read down the list of ninety-nine books,\nincluding several second and third editions, which Caxton printed,\nwithout wonder and respect for the genius and the judgment of the man\nwhose choice of subjects was so wide, so high-minded, moral, religious,\nand generous, and at the same time so popular. He was indeed, in all\nsenses, the first of English publishers. He died in 1491, occupied (as\nhis chief workman and successor, Wynkyn de Worde, tells us) on the last\nday of his life in finishing his translation of the _Lives of the\nFathers_ from the French. Mr. Blades conjectures, with apparent\nprobability, that his wife was the Mawde Caxton whose burial is\nrecorded in the parish books of St. Margaret\u2019s in 1489, and he adds:\u2014\n\u2018If so, it will explain, in a most interesting manner, the reason why\nhe in that year suspended printing the _Fayts of Arms_ until he had\nfinished a new undertaking, _The Arte and Crafte to Die Well_.\u2019\nThe operation of the silent but never-failing laws which govern the\ngrowth and progress of our national life, seems to be sustained and\ndirected in certain epochs of our history by great men who have yet\nthemselves been made what they are by those very laws. Among such laws\nare the ideals of chivalry in its twofold aspect of self-sacrifice and\nof self-assertion. And not least among the men who have given to the\nspirit of chivalry its special English forms in which the sense of duty\nand zeal in the redress of wrongs are characteristic, stand Sir Thomas\nMalory and William Caxton.\n \u00a72. THE TEXT, AND ITS SEVERAL EDITIONS.\nThe first edition of Le Morte Darthur was printed by Caxton at\nWestminster in 1485, as he tells us in the colophon. Two copies only\nare known: they are folio, black letter, with wide margin, and among\nthe finest specimens of Caxton\u2019s printing. One belongs to Mrs. Abby E.\nPope, of Brooklyn, United States, by whom it was bought for \u00a31950 at\nthe sale of the Osterley library in 1885[26]; and the other to Earl\nSpencer. The Osterley copy, which is perfect, has the autograph\n\u2018Oxford\u2019 on the first leaf; it was sold with the Harleian Library to\nOsborne the bookseller, and apparently bought of him for \u00a35 5_s._ by\nBryan Fairfax, who sold his library to Mr. Child, maternal ancestor of\nthe Earl of Jersey[27]. The Althorp copy, which was bought at Mr.\nLloyd\u2019s sale in 1816 for \u00a3320, had eleven leaves deficient; but these\nwere supplied by Mr. Whittaker in fac-simile from the Osterley copy\nwith remarkable skill[28], though on collation with the original I have\nfound many mistakes. This edition, like all Caxton\u2019s books but one, has\nno title-page; the Prohem or Preface begins at the top of the first\npage[29].\nThe two next editions of Morte Arthur were printed by Wynkyn de Worde,\nthe chief workman and successor of Caxton, in 1498 and 1529. Only one\ncopy of each is known. That of 1498 is in the Althorp Library: it wants\nsome pages, but contains the Preface, which is a reprint of that of\nCaxton, though it here follows instead of preceding the Table of\nContents. This edition, which has numerous woodcuts, is not an exact\nreprint of Caxton\u2019s; there are differences of spelling and occasionally\nof a word; and the passage in the last chapter but one, beginning \u2018Oh\nye mighty and pompous lords,\u2019 and ending with \u2018turn again to my\nmatter,\u2019 which is not in Caxton\u2019s edition, appears here, as in all\nlater editions[30]. The edition of 1529 is in the British Museum, and\nwants the Title, Preface, and part of the Table of Contents.\nIn 1557 the book was reprinted by William Copland, with the title of\n\u2018The story of the most noble and worthy kynge Arthur, the whiche was\none of the worthyes chrysten, and also of his noble and valia\u016bte\nknyghtes of the rounde Table. Newly imprynted and corrected mccccclvij.\n\u00b6 Imprynted at London by Wyllyam Copland.\u2019 And on the title-page, above\nthe last line, is a woodcut of St. George and the Dragon, of which that\non the title-page of Southey\u2019s edition is a bad copy. A copy of this\nedition is in the British Museum, with a note that this is the only one\nwith a title which the annotator has seen.\nA folio and a quarto edition were published by Thomas East, without\ndate, but probably about 1585, the former of which is in the British\nMuseum.\nThe next, and last black-letter, edition is that of William Stansby, in\n1634, which has been reprinted by Mr. Wright, and which contains the\nwoodcut of the Round Table with Arthur in the middle and his knights\naround, a copy of which is familiar to many of us in one of the small\neditions of 1816. From the fact of an omission in this edition which\nexactly corresponds with a complete leaf in East\u2019s folio, Mr. Wright\nconcludes that the one was printed from the other. Each succeeding\nedition departs more than the previous one from the original of Caxton;\nbut if we compare this of 1634 with Caxton\u2019s, we find the variations\nalmost infinite. Besides remodelling the preface, dividing the book\ninto three parts, and modernising the spelling and many of the words,\nthere are a number of more or less considerable variations and\nadditions, of which Mr. Wright has given some of the more important in\nhis notes, but which I estimate at above twenty thousand in the whole;\nand which have probably arisen in the minor instances from the printer\nreading a sentence and then printing it from recollection, without\nfarther reference to his \u2018copy,\u2019 but in the others from a desire to\nimprove the original simplicity by what the editor calls \u2018a more\neloquent and ornated style and phrase.\u2019\nNo new edition seems to have been published till 1816, when two\nindependent editions appeared, one in two, and the other in three 24mo\nvolumes. Both are modernised for popular use, and are probably the\nvolumes through which most of my own generation made their first\nacquaintance with King Arthur and his knights; but neither has any\nmerit as to its editing.\nIn 1817 Messrs. Longmans and Co. published an edition in two volumes\nquarto, with an introduction and notes by Southey, who says,\u2019The\npresent edition is a reprint with scrupulous exactness from the first\nedition by Caxton, in Earl Spencer\u2019s library[31].\u2019 As it appears from a\nnote[32] that he had nothing to do with the superintendence of the\npress, which was undertaken by Mr. Upcott, he was probably unaware that\neleven leaves were, as I have mentioned above, then wanting in the copy\nfrom which this reprint was made. These had not then been restored in\nfac-simile; for Earl Spencer\u2019s copy contains a note, signed by Messrs.\nLongmans and dated 1816, which gives a list of the pages then wanting;\nand, in fact, the substitutes for them which actually appear in\nSouthey\u2019s edition differ widely from the restored, or the original,\ntext. Thus in chapter xii. of the last book, besides the interpolation\nof the long passage \u2018O ye myghty and pompous lordes,\u2019 &c., which is not\nin Caxton, there are in the first eleven lines thirty-five variations\nof spelling and punctuation, besides the introduction of the words \u2018but\ncontinually mourned un\u2014\u2019 and \u2018needfully as nature required,\u2019 which are\nnot in Caxton, and the change of Caxton\u2019s \u2018on the tombe of kyng Arthur\n& quene Guenever\u2019 into \u2018on kynge Arthur\u2019s & quene Gwenever\u2019s tombe.\u2019\nAnd thus throughout the pages in question\u2014seventeen in number[33]\u2014the\nspelling constantly, and words and even sentences occasionally, differ\nfrom the real text of Caxton[34].\nWhen at page 113 of volume i. the editor introduces the words \u2018certayne\ncause\u2019 to complete the sense, he is careful to call attention, in a\nfoot-note, to the fact that these words are not in the original, but\ntaken from the \u2018second edition,\u2019 by which I presume he means that of\n1498. But when he subsequently supplies seventeen pages which were also\nnot in his original, he gives no hint of the fact; and his reticence\nwas so successful that for fifty years the interpolations passed as\ngenuine among learned critics, who quoted from them passages wholly\nspurious as Caxton\u2019s genuine text. It was only in 1867 that, in\ncollating Earl Spencer\u2019s copy with the edition of Southey, I discovered\nthat these passages\u2014to which my attention was directed by Messrs.\nLongman\u2019s note above mentioned\u2014did not correspond with Caxton\u2019s text,\nas represented by Whittaker\u2019s restorations: and on afterwards collating\nthem with the Osterley text itself I found the like result. It remained\nto trace them to their real sources. This was not so easy as might be\nsupposed, for though it was evident that Mr. Upcott must have had\nrecourse to one or other of the existing editions, the interpolated\npassages in fact agree exactly with none of them. But a careful\ncollation of the last four chapters of the book (which include more\nthan half the interpolations, and may be taken as a fair specimen of\nthe whole) with the old texts, leaves no doubt that, with the exception\nof the first thirty-six lines of chapter x, they were taken, like the\ntwo words mentioned above, from the first edition of Wynkyn de Worde,\nbut with the spelling occasionally altered, and here and there a small\nword put in, left out, or changed. These alterations throw an ingenious\ndisguise over the whole; but if we penetrate through this we find that\nin these four chapters there are only thirteen words differing from\nthose in Wynkyn de Worde\u2019s first edition, and these unimportant; while\nin his second edition, and in those of Copland and East, the variations\nfrom Mr. Upcott\u2019s text of the same chapters are respectively\nfifty-seven, fifty-six, and fifty in number, and many of them important\nin kind: and if we go to the edition of 1634 we find the differences\nstill greater, except as to those thirty-six lines, which are supplied\nfrom this edition, as they were wanting in the other copy. But the\ncolophon, or concluding paragraph of the book, Mr. Upcott could not\ntake from any of the editions which followed that of Caxton; for though\nWynkyn de Worde might, and in fact did, supply at least one or two of\nthe first words, the latter part of his colophon relates to his own\nedition, and departs widely from that of Caxton, while those in the\nlater editions are still more unlike; and yet Mr. Upcott\u2019s colophon is\na tolerable, though not an exact, representation of that of Caxton. But\nhis other materials can be ascertained beyond a doubt. They are, the\ncolophon as given by Ames, and repeated by Dibdin in a modernised and\notherwise inexact form[35], and that which first appeared in the\nCatalogue of the Harleian Library[36], and was thence copied in the\narticle on Caxton in the _Biographia Britannica_, and also in Herbert\u2019s\nAdditions to Ames. The colophons of Ames and of the Harleian Catalogue\nhave important variations from each other and from that of Caxton; and\nas Mr. Upcott adopts some portions of each which are not found either\nin the other, or in Caxton, we see the manner in which the paragraph in\nquestion was compounded. Each stone of the ingeniously fitted mosaic\nmay be referred to the place from which it was taken. We cannot indeed\nchoose positively between Ames and Dibdin, or among the Harleian\nCatalogue, the Biographia, and Herbert; but as the two paragraphs which\nare required in addition to that of Wynkyn de Worde are both found in\nHerbert\u2019s Ames, it seems most probable that Mr. Upcott had recourse to\nthat work, though another combination would have served the purpose\nequally well. That the interpolated passages are not taken from the\nOsterley Caxton itself, even in the roughest and most careless manner,\nis quite evident[37].\nIn 1858 and 1866 Mr. Wright published successive editions reprinted\nfrom that of 1634. His learned introduction and notes are of\nconsiderable interest; but nothing can justify the reprinting the most\ncorrupt of all the old editions when the first and best was within\nreach, though perhaps at greater cost.\nIn 1868 was published the first edition of the present volume, with the\npurpose of giving the original text in a form available for ordinary\nreaders, and especially for boys, from whom the chief demand for this\nbook will always come. It is a reprint of the original Caxton with the\nspelling modernised, and those few words which are unintelligibly\nobsolete replaced by others which, though not necessarily unknown to\nCaxton, are still in use, yet with all old forms retained which do not\ninterfere with this requirement of being readable. For when, as indeed\nis oftenest the case, the context makes even an obsolete phrase\nprobably, if not precisely, known, I have left it in the text, and\ngiven its meaning in the Glossary, in which I have chiefly followed\nRoquefort, Halliwell, and Wright. In the Glossary I have also added a\nfew geographical notes for those readers who may care for them. And for\nthe like reason\u2014of making the book readable\u2014such phrases or passages\nas are not in accordance with modern manners have been also omitted or\nreplaced by others which either actually occur or might have occurred\nin Caxton\u2019s text elsewhere. I say manners, not morals, because I do not\nprofess to have remedied the moral defects of the book which I have\nalready spoken of. Lord Tennyson has shown us how we may deal best with\nthis matter, in so far as Sir Thomas Malory has himself failed to treat\nit rightly; and I do not believe that when we have excluded what is\noffensive to modern manners there will be found anything practically\ninjurious to the morals of English boys, for whom I have chiefly\nundertaken this work, while there is much of moral worth which I know\nnot where they can learn so well as from the ideals of magnanimity,\ncourage, courtesy, reverence for women, gentleness, self-sacrifice,\nchastity, and other manly virtues, exhibited in these pages.\nThe omissions, not many, nor in any sense constituting an abridgment of\nthe original, were thought desirable to fit the book for popular\nreading. And if any one blames the other departures from the exact form\nof that original, I would ask him to judge from the specimens of the\nold type and spelling which I have given at the end of each book, and\nof the volume, whether a literal and verbal reproduction of the whole\nwould not be simply unreadable except by students of old English[38].\nAnd if some departure from the original was necessary, it was\nreasonable to carry it so far as, though no farther than, my purpose\nrequired. And, subject to these conditions, the present volume is in\nfact a more accurate reproduction of Caxton\u2019s text than any other\nexcept those of Southey and Dr. Sommer. I have, indeed, made use of\nSouthey\u2019s text for this edition, having satisfied myself by occasional\ncollation with the Althorp and Osterley Caxtons that it is a\nsufficiently accurate reprint excepting as to the passages above\nmentioned; and these have been taken by me from the original in the way\nI have said.\nIn 1862, 1868, 1871, 1880, abridgments of Malory\u2019s book were edited by\nJ. T. King, E. Conybeare, B. M. Ranking, and S. Lanier, respectively.\nAnd in 1886 Mr. Ernest Rhys edited a reprint of fourteen of the\ntwenty-one books, from the version of Mr. Wright, with further\nmodernisations and an introduction.\nIn 1889, 1890, and 1891, Dr. H. Oskar Sommer edited, and Mr. Nutt\npublished, in three volumes, what will henceforth be the best, if not\nquite the best possible, edition of Caxton\u2019s original text, for the\nscholar and the student. It would be hard to over-rate the industry,\nthe learning, and the munificent public spirit of these worthy\nrepresentatives of Sir Thomas Malory and William Caxton. The first\nvolume gives the text of the Althorp copy, page for page, line for\nline, word for word, and letter for letter, with no change but that of\nRoman for black letter type. It is, indeed, too scrupulously exact, for\nit reproduces the mistakes in Whittaker\u2019s fac-simile pages which now\nform part of the Althorp copy, only correcting these by collations with\nthe Osterley original, given in the second volume. Whittaker has no\nmore authority than any other mere copyist; and the direct correction\nof his mistakes would have made Dr. Sommer\u2019s reprint a perfect\nrepresentation of the original while making a reprint of the collations\nunnecessary. Besides these collations, and others of the second edition\nof Wynkyn de Worde with the text of Caxton, Dr. Sommer\u2019s second volume\ncontains a complete bibliography of the original text and all its after\nindeed dictionary, of words, whether obsolete or still in use; and an\nEssay on the language of the book.\nIn the third volume, after a graceful essay by Mr. Andrew Lang on the\nliterary merits of Malory, Dr. Sommer gives us a series\u2014an original\nand very important series\u2014of \u2018Studies on the Sources\u2019; and he prints\nfrom MSS. in the British Museum the only two of those \u2018sources\u2019 which\nhad not been so made accessible already, either by ancient or modern\neditors. Into this hitherto chaotic mass of medi\u00e6val romances, French\nand English, prose or verse, Dr. Sommer has now first brought light and\norder. With an almost inconceivable amount of thoughtful and learned\nlabour, he has collated the various manuscripts with the printed\neditions and with Malory\u2019s book, in a detail which, great as it is,\nrepresents, as he tells us, a still more minute investigation of which\nhe only gives the main results. With the exception of the story of\nBeaumains, which is an enlarged narration of that of La Cote Male\nTaile, and subject to the changes made by Malory\u2019s own genius, all the\nadventures and incidents of Malory\u2019s Morte Darthur are now shown to be\nfound in one or more of these \u2018sources,\u2019 often translated literally\nfrom French, or transferred word for word from the English, yet still\noftener so compressed and fused into a new shape that the finished work\nis but a tenth of the bulk of the original matter. Dr. Sommer arranges\nthese sources into the four groups of the Merlin, the Lancelot, the\nTristan, and the Prophecies of Merlin, and shows the relations of each\ngroup to the corresponding portions of Malory. He thinks, with M.\nGaston Paris, that Malory had a now lost form of the \u2018Lancelot,\u2019\ncomparable to the \u2018Suite de Merlin\u2019 discovered only fifteen years\nsince; and indeed believes that he has found some pages of this missing\n\u2018Lancelot\u2019 imbedded in a \u2018Tristan\u2019 MS. in the British Museum. But the\nwork of this learned critic must be studied in itself, not in a\nsummary. Of the light which these investigations throw upon the genius\nof Malory, and on the character of his art, I have already spoken.\nThere is no title-page, as I have already mentioned, to the Caxton,\nthat which is given by several bibliographers being only an extract,\nnot very critically selected, from Caxton\u2019s preface. But it is stated\nin Caxton\u2019s colophon that the book was \u2018entytled le morte Darthur,\u2019 and\nhe explains that it was so \u2018entitled\u2019 notwithstanding it treated of\nArthur\u2019s birth, life, and acts as well as death, and also of the\nadventures of his knights of the Round Table. And the concluding words\nof Malory, \u2018Here is the end of the death of Arthur,\u2019 taken with their\ncontext, point to the same title. It was indeed before Malory\u2019s time,\nand has been ever since, the traditional title of this story. We have\nMort Artus and Morte Arthure in the earlier times; Ascham, in Henry\nVIII\u2019s reign, calls this book La Morte d\u2019Arthure; Tyrwhitt, Mort\nd\u2019Arthur; and Walter Scott and Southey, Morte Arthur, which last\nprobably many of us are familiar with as the old name which we heard\nfrom our own fathers.\nSt. Augustine replied to the enquiry, What is time? by saying, \u2018I know\nwhen you do not ask me:\u2019 and a like answer suggests itself to us if we\ntry to find an adequate reply to the question, What is Chivalry? For\nchivalry is one of those words, like love, duty, patriotism, loyalty,\nwhich make us feel their meaning, and the reality of what they mean,\nthough their ideal and comprehensive character hinders us from readily\nputting it into the forms of a definition. When the alchemist in the\nEastern tale compounds, with all the resources of his art, the\nuniversal solvent before the expectant eyes of his pupil, the pupil,\nseeing the mysterious fluid lie quietly in the crucible, exclaims, with\nnot unreasonable doubt, \u2018O Sage, be not deceived: how can that which\ndissolves all things be itself contained in a ladle?\u2019 And how shall\nchivalry, sparkling and flashing everywhere as it runs through that\ngreat complicated tissue of human life which we call modern\ncivilisation,\u2014how shall chivalry, the humaniser of society, be brought\nwithin the limits of a definition?\nChivalry, indeed, exists for us in spirit rather than in outward and\nvisible form. It no longer comes to us with the outward symbols of\nwar-horse, and armour, and noble birth, and strength of arm, and\nhigh-flown protestations of love and gallantry; yet we never fail to\nknow and feel its presence, silent and unobtrusive as it now is: we\nrecognise the lady and the gentleman not less surely now than they did\nin old times; and we acknowledge their rights and their power over us\nnow no less than then. And if the spirit of chivalry does live among us\nstill, we may read its past history by its present light, and say in\nSpenser\u2019s words,\u2014\n \u2018By infusion sweete\n Of thine own spirit which doth in me survive,\n I follow still the footing of thy feete,\n That with thy meaning so I may the rather meete.\u2019\nLet us then look back to those times when chivalry had an outward,\nvisible form, and was embodied in its own proper institutions, with\norders, and statutes, and courts of its own jurisdiction, and rituals,\nand customs, like those of other great social institutions and members\nof the body politic.\nThe deluge of the Teutonic nations which broke up the old Roman\ncivilisation threatened for some centuries to overwhelm Europe with\nmere barbarism. We know now that the germs of a far higher and better\ncivilisation were everywhere ready to burst into life as soon as the\nfury of that deluge had spent itself; but for a long period the evil\nseemed mightier than the good. From time to time the clear head, the\nnoble heart and conscience, and the strong arm of an Alfred, a\nCharlemagne, or an Otho, might bring a temporary calm and order into\nthe storm; but when the personal influences of such great men were\nwithdrawn, society relapsed again and again into ever new anarchy, and\nwar\u2014at once the effect and the cause of anarchy\u2014savage, cruel war\nbecame the business of all men throughout Europe. The selfish, the\nrapacious, and the unscrupulous fought for power, and plunder, and love\nof fighting; and while violence could only be resisted by violence, and\neach man had to defend himself, his family, and his possessions as best\nhe could, with no effectual aid from law and government, there was a\nconstant tendency to increasing barbarism and brutish, or worse than\nbrutish, instead of human, existence.\nBut man differs from the brutes in this, that while he can fall lower\nthan they, he can also rise higher, and that even the passions and the\nimpulses which he has in common with them may be subdued, and refined,\nand modified, till they become the servants and instruments of his\nhuman life, and the means by which all that is properly spiritual in\nhis being may be reflected and symbolised upon this earth in outward,\nvisible form. The nobler races of men\u2014the historical races, as they\nhave been called\u2014constantly show this aptitude for contending with\nthese downward tendencies of our nature, and for advancing, through the\nconquest of them, to new and higher life.\nAnd so it was in the Middle Ages. The Church was, no doubt, the great\nciviliser of the nations: still, whatever aid the State derived from\nthe Church, it then, no less than now, had a position and processes of\nits own, by which it did its own work of civilisation too. And its\nfirst great work for controlling the universal anarchy of which I have\nspoken was the extension and firm establishment of that\nhalf-patriarchal, half-military organisation which we call the Feudal\nSystem. Every man who was not rich and powerful enough to be a lord\nbecame\u2014willingly or unwillingly\u2014a vassal; and all men, from the king\ndownwards, were bound to each other for reciprocal service and\nprotection\u2014a service and protection partly military, but partly\npatriarchal, since they were rendered not by men strangers to each\nother except for what Mr. Carlyle calls \u2018the nexus of cash payment,\u2019\nbut united by ties of family, and neighbourhood, and clanship, and by\nthe interests and sympathies that grow out of these. But the protector\nof his own vassals easily became the invader of the rights and ravager\nof the possessions of his neighbour and his vassals; and so the old\nevils of anarchy and violence grew afresh out of the remedy which had\nbeen devised to meet them. The \u2018monarchies sank into impotence; petty,\nlawless tyrants trampled all social order under foot,\u2019 says a learned\nhistorian of this period, \u2018and all attempts after scientific\ninstruction and artistic pleasures were as effectually crushed by this\nstate of general insecurity as the external well-being and material\nlife of the people. This was a dark and stormy period for Europe,\nmerciless, arbitrary, and violent. It is a sign of the prevailing\nfeeling of misery and hopelessness that, when the first thousand years\nof our \u00e6ra were drawing to their close, the people in every country in\nEurope looked with certainty for the destruction of the world. Some\nsquandered their wealth in riotous living, others bestowed it for the\ngood of their souls on churches and convents; weeping multitudes lay\nday and night around the altars; some looked forward with dread, but\nmost with secret hope, towards the burning of the earth and the falling\nin of heaven. Their actual condition was so miserable that the idea of\ndestruction was relief, spite of all its horrors[39].\u2019\nThe palliatives with which men tried to meet the evils of the times\nindicate the greatness of the evils, but also the moral feeling which\nwas the promise of better things. Such was the so-called \u2018Peace of the\nKing,\u2019 by which private wars were not to be entered on till forty days\nafter the committal of the alleged crime which was to be avenged; and\nthe \u2018Truce of God,\u2019 by which all these acts of private hostility were\nsuspended from Thursday to Monday in each week. And at the Council of\nCleremont, held by Urban II in November, 1095, a severe censure was\npronounced against the licence of private war; the Truce of God was\nconfirmed; women and priests were placed under the safeguard of the\nChurch; and a protection of three years was extended to husbandmen and\nmerchants, the defenceless victims of military rapine. We are reminded\nof the law of Moses, which provided Cities of Refuge for the man who\naccidentally and without malice killed his neighbour, but who could not\nlook for protection from the vengeance of the family of the slain man\nexcept within those special safeguards. In each case there is the same\nunreasoning rage of the half-civilised man brought face to face with\nthe demands of religion and civil law: and each is obliged to yield\nsomething to the other till the better cause has had time to prepare\nand strengthen itself for a more complete triumph.\nChivalry, then, was the offspring of the same spirit which dictated the\nPeace of the King, the Truce of God, and the decrees of the Council of\nCleremont. Chivalry has another name\u2014Knighthood\u2014and the two are\nwanted to express all that we mean by either[40]. The chevalier was the\nsoldier who rode the war-horse: he whose birth entitled him, and whose\nwealth gave him the means, to ride at the head of his vassals and\nretainers to the war: all ideas of lordship, and mastery, and outward\ndignity and power, are here embodied before us. But this \u2018chevalier,\u2019\nthis \u2018ritter,\u2019 or rider of the war-horse, was also to be a \u2018knecht,\u2019 or\nservant: \u2018He that will be chief among you, let him be your servant.\u2019\nThe knight was to obey, no less than to command; he was to exert his\nstrength and power, not for selfish ends, but in the service of others;\nand especially in the service of the poor, the weak, and the oppressed,\nwho could not help or defend themselves. It was, indeed, no new\ndiscovery in the world, that such are the duties of him who possesses\npower, and above all the power of the sword; and they who have tried to\ntrace the origin of chivalry to some particular place and time have had\nto go to the Germans of Tacitus, to the Crusaders, to the Saracens, to\nthe Romans, the Greeks, the Trojans, the Hebrews, only to come to the\nconclusion that chivalry belongs in its spirit to man as man; though\nthe form in which that spirit was clothed in Europe in the Middle Ages\nhas an individuality of which some of the sources may be ascertained,\nand though from that time forward its power has been established, and\nextended, in a manner, and with a greatness unknown to the ancients.\nIn those days society was essentially military. In this our own time\nthe main offices, interests, and occupations of the great body politic\nare non-military, and the army is but a small portion of the nation,\nspecially trained for a minor, though indispensable, function therein.\nPeace, for its own sake, and for the sake of the objects which can only\nbe obtained by the arts and with the opportunities of peace, is the end\nand aim of every civilised nation now; and war is only an occasional\nmeans to secure that end. But in the Middle Ages war was, or seemed to\nbe, the chief end of life to the greater part of every nation, and\nespecially to all who possessed rank, and wealth, and power, and were\nin fact the leaders of the nation. And therefore chivalry, the spirit\nwhich was to humanise those warriors, needed to be warlike too, and\nthus to sympathise with those to whom it addressed itself.\nMuch, too, of its special form it no doubt owed to that wonderful race\nof heroes, the Normans. The romantic love of adventure; the religious\nand the martial enthusiasm; the desire to revenge injuries, and to win\nwealth and power; the delight in arms and horses, in the luxury of\ndress, and in the exercises of hunting and hawking; the eloquence and\nsagacity in council; the patience with which when need was they could\nendure the inclemency of every climate, and the toil and abstinence of\na military life; and the gentleness, the affability and the gallantry,\nwhich were the characteristics of the Norman race; these must have been\nmore or less impressed on men\u2019s minds wherever the Norman sway or\ninfluence extended, from England to Sicily, and must have reproduced\nsomething of themselves in the social habits and manners of the times.\nWhen we read the description of William of the Iron Arm, the first\nNorman count of Apulia, so strong, so brave, so affable, so generous,\nand so sage above other men\u2014a lion in battle, a lamb in society, and\nan angel in council\u2014we are reminded of the heroes of chivalry in the\ndays of its greatest refinement, the Black Prince, Sir John Chandos,\nand Sir Walter of Manny, as they still live in the pages of Froissart;\nor their counterparts in romance, King Arthur, Sir Launcelot, Amadis of\nGaul, or Palmerin of England.\nThe Normans, the latest of the Northern races who descended, full of\nwild life, from their mountains and forests, upon the comparatively\ncivilised plains of Europe, may have brought a newer and fresher\nfeeling for those old manners and customs which Tacitus describes as\ncharacterising the Germans of his time, and which are with so much\nprobability connected with the chivalry of the Middle Ages. In ancient\nGermany, and in Scandinavia, it was the custom for each youth, when he\nwas of an age to bear arms, to be presented with a sword, a shield, and\na lance, by his father, or some near relation, in an assembly of the\nchiefs of the nation; and from that time he became a member of the\ncommonwealth, and ranked as a citizen. He then entered the train of\nsome chief, of whom he and his brother youths became the followers and\ncompanions, forming one brotherhood, though not without ranks and\ndegrees, while a generous spirit of equality ran through all.\nIn ancient Germany, too, women were held in a peculiar reverence,\nbeyond what was known in the other\u2014and otherwise more\ncivilized\u2014nations of antiquity; and the presence of women in the hour\nof battle with their husbands, brothers, and fathers, was regarded by\nthose warriors as an incentive to courage, and a pledge of victory,\nwhich (as they boasted) their Roman foes were unable to appeal to for\nthemselves. And this old Teutonic reverence for women conspired with\nthe new Christian reverence for the Virgin Mary as the type and\nrepresentative at once of her sex and of the Church, to supply the\npurer and nobler elements of the gallantry which forms so large a part,\nnot only of the romance, but of the actual history, of chivalry.\nBut Christianity exercised not only an indirect, but also a direct and\navowed action upon the forms of chivalry, as they attained to their\nfull proportions. Knighthood was certainly a feature and distinction of\nsociety before the days of Charlemagne, who in permitting the governor\nof Friesland to make knights by girding them with a sword, and giving\nthem a blow, adds \u2018as is the custom.\u2019 But no ritual of the Church as\nyet consecrated that custom. Charlemagne girt the sword on his son\nLouis the Good without religious ceremonies; and a century later the\nSaxon king of England, Edward the Elder, clothed Athelstan in a\nsoldier\u2019s dress of scarlet, and girded him with a girdle ornamented\nwith precious stones and a sword with sheath of gold, but without\nreligious rites. But in the next century, in the reign of Edward the\nConfessor, we read that Hereward, a noble Anglo-Saxon youth, was\nknighted by the Abbot of Peterborough, with confession, absolution, and\nprayer that he might be a true knight. And this the historian describes\nas the custom of the English, as indeed it was, or soon became, that of\nall Europe; the Normans resisting the innovation longest, but at last\nadopting it with their wonted ardour. The candidate for knighthood\nconfessed his sins on the eve of his consecration (for such it now\nwas), and passed the night in prayer and fasting in the church: the\ngodfathers, the bath, the white garment, and the tonsure (sometimes\nlimited indeed to a single lock) were the symbols of the new and holy\nstate of life to which he was now called: next morning he heard mass,\noffered his sword on the altar, where it was blessed by the priest; and\nhe was created a knight\u2014either by the priest of highest rank present,\nor by some knight, who, in virtue of his knighthood, was qualified to\nconfer the sacred office he had himself received\u2014in the name of God,\nof St. George, and of Saint Michael the Archangel. He swore, and\nreceived the holy communion in confirmation of his oath, to fulfil the\nduties of his profession; to speak the truth; to maintain the right; to\nprotect women, the poor, and the distressed; to practise courtesy; to\npursue the infidels; to despise the allurements of ease and safety, and\nto maintain his honour in every perilous adventure. And the Council of\nCleremont, of which I have already spoken\u2014as if in order to give the\nsanction of the Church in a still more formal and comprehensive manner\nto the whole system of chivalry\u2014decreed that every person of noble\nbirth, on attaining the age of twelve years, should take a solemn oath\nbefore the bishop of his diocese to defend to the uttermost the\noppressed, the widow, and the orphans; that women of noble birth, both\nmarried and single, should enjoy his especial care; and that nothing\nshould be wanting in him to render travelling safe, and to destroy\ntyranny.\nThus, as has been justly observed, all the humanities of chivalry were\nsanctioned by legal and ecclesiastical power: it was intended that they\nshould be spread over the whole face of Christendom, in order to check\nthe barbarism and ferocity of the times. While the form of chivalry was\nmartial, its objects became to a great extent religious and social:\nfrom a mere military array chivalry obtained the name of the Order, the\nHoly Order, and a character of seriousness and solemnity was given to\nit; and it was accounted an honourable office above all offices,\norders, and acts of the world, except the order of priesthood.\nThe education for knighthood usually began at a still earlier age than\nthat mentioned in the Canons of Cleremont. The castles of the princes\nand nobles were the schools of those days, at least for the youth of\ntheir own class. Every feudal lord had his court, to which he drew the\nsons and daughters of the poorer gentry of his domains; and if he were\na knight distinguished for his merits, his castle was also frequented\nby the children of men of equal rank and reputation with himself: for\nthe prudent and careful father would often have some brother in arms\nwhom he thought better fitted than himself to educate his children in\nthe accomplishments and duties of his station. So, long after, Ben\nJonson, looking back on those old times, and picturing them in their\nideal aspect, says, that then\n \u2018Goodness gave the greatness,\n And greatness worship: every house became\n An academy of honour.\u2019\nAnd that this method of education\n Of institution from our ancestors,\n Hath been deriv\u2019d down to us, and receiv\u2019d\n In a succession, for the noblest way\n Of breeding up our youth in letters, arms,\n Fair mien, discourses, civil exercises,\n And all the blazon of a gentleman.\n Where can he learn to vault, to ride, to fence,\n To move his body gracefuller, to speak\n His language purer, or to tune his mind\n Or manners more to the harmony of nature,\n Than in these nurseries of nobility?\u2019\nThe boy of gentle birth, when he thus began his education, was called\nby the names of Childe, or Damoiseau, or Valet, said to be a\ncontraction of Vassalet or little Vassal, and also Page, though this\nlast name was originally appropriated to the youths of inferior rank.\nHe usually entered the castle which was to be his school about the age\nof seven or eight. He was to learn modesty, obedience, and address in\narms and horsemanship, and was duly exercised in the use of his\nweapons, beginning with such as were suited to his strength. He was\ninstructed how to guide a horse with grace and dexterity, how to use\nthe bow and the sword, and how to manage the lance,\u2014an art which was\ntaught him by making him ride against a wooden figure, which, if not\nstruck in true knightly fashion, was so contrived as to turn round and\ngive the awkward cavalier a blow with its wooden sword. He attended his\nlord in the chase, and learnt all its arts; he attended him also in\nmany offices which we should now call menial, but which were then held\nto be the proper symbols of modesty and obedience for the youth of\nhighest birth and rank. Thus the Black Prince was held to show the\nhighest respect to the French king, his prisoner, by personal\nattendance on him. In the words of Froissart: \u2018The same day of the\nbattle, at night, the prince made a supper in his lodging to the French\nking, and to the most part of the great lords that were prisoners ...\nand always the prince served before the king as humbly as he could, and\nwould not sit at the king\u2019s board for any desire that the king could\nmake; but he said he was not sufficient to sit at the table with so\ngreat a prince as the king was.\u2019\nAnd not the least important of the youth\u2019s duties were those towards\nthe ladies of the house in which he lived. He was to wait on them\nrather as attending a sort of superior beings to whom adoration and\nobsequious service were due, than as ministering to the convenience of\nhuman creatures like himself. The most modest demeanour, the most\nprofound respect, were to be observed in the presence of these fair\nidols. And as not only the youths, but the maidens\u2014the damoiselles no\nless than the damoiseaux\u2014were sent to the courts of the barons and\ntheir ladies for education, it would often happen that this veneration\nin which the boy was so early trained towards the ladies of maturer\nyears, would find an object in some young maiden whose more suitable\nage might lead him, as he grew up, from mere boyish regard to that\npassionate and abiding devotion which was the duty of every true knight\nto his lady, and by the strength of which he held that all his power\nfor good was to be maintained. Here is a description of the beginning\nof the loves of Amadis and Oriana, which is as charming as it is\nsimple; and which, though we find it in the pages of a romance, we\ncannot doubt is a picture of actual life and manners. \u2018Oriana,\u2019 says\nthe old book, \u2018was about ten years old, the fairest creature that ever\nwas seen; wherefore she was called the one \u201cwithout a peer\u201d.... The\nchild of the sea (that is, Amadis) was now twelve years old, but in\nstature and size he seemed fifteen, and he served the queen; but, now\nthat Oriana was there, the queen gave her the child of the sea, that he\nshould serve her, and Oriana said that \u201cit pleased her;\u201d and that word\nwhich she said, the child kept in his heart, so that he never lost it\nfrom his memory, and in all his life he was never weary of serving her,\nand his heart was surrendered to her; and this love lasted as long as\nthey lasted, for as well as he loved her did she also love him. But the\nchild of the sea, who knew nothing of her love, thought himself\npresumptuous to have placed his thoughts on her, and dared not speak to\nher; and she, who loved him in her heart, was careful not to speak more\nwith him than with another: but their eyes delighted to reveal to the\nheart what was the thing on earth that they loved best. And now the\ntime came that he thought he could take arms if he were knighted; and\nthis he greatly desired, thinking that he would do such things that, if\nhe lived, his mistress should esteem him.\u2019\nSuch was the beginning of the loves of Amadis and Oriana, so famous in\nromance, and so generally held by knights and ladies to be a model for\nthemselves. Constancy, such as that of Amadis, was a virtue of the true\nlover which those times of long inevitable separations and absences\ndemanded in forms hardly known in our days; and in proportion was it\ninsisted upon, and held in honour. So Spenser says:\n \u2018Young knight whatever, that dost arms profess,\n And through long labours huntest after fame,\n Beware of fraud, beware of fickleness,\n In choice and change of thy dear loved dame;\n Lest thou of her believe too lightly blame,\n And rash misweening do thy heart remove;\n For unto knight there is no greater shame,\n Than lightness and inconstancy in love.\u2019\nThe peerless Amadis passed with more than ordinary rapidity to the rank\nof knighthood. The youth more usually remained an esquire\u2014the next\nstep to that of page\u2014till he was twenty. He attended the knight to\nwhose person he was attached, dressed and undressed him, trained his\nhorses, kept his arms bright and burnished, and did the honours of the\nhousehold to the strangers who visited it; so that Spenser takes the\nsquire as the type of such courtesy. Here is Chaucer\u2019s description of\nthe squire:\n \u2018With him there was his son, a young\u00e9 squire,\n A lover and a lusty bachelor,\n With lock\u00e9s curl\u2019d as they were laid in press;\n Of twenty years of age he was, I guess.\n Of his stat\u00fare he was of even length,\n And wonderly deliver, and great of strength;\n And he had been some time in chevachie (military expeditions),\n In Flanders, in Artois, and Picardie,\n And borne him well, as of so little space,\n In hope to standen in his lady\u2019s grace.\n Embroider\u2019d was he, as it were a mead\n All full of fresh\u00e9 flowers, white and red;\n Singing he was, or fluting, all the day;\n He was as fresh as is the month of May;\n Short was his gown, with sleev\u00e9s long and wide:\n Well could he sit on horse, and fair\u00e9 ride;\n He could\u00e9 song\u00e9s make, and well indite,\n Just, and eke dance, and well pourtray and write:\n So hot he lov\u00e9d, that by nightertale\n He slept no more than doth the nightingale.\n Courteous he was; slowly and serviceable;\n And carv\u2019d before his father at the table.\u2019\nI have already spoken of the religious rites with which the esquire was\nadmitted into the order of knighthood, and of the solemn and noble\nengagements into which he then entered. He had next to \u2018win his spurs,\u2019\nas it was called; a phrase happily illustrated in the story of Edward\nIII and the Black Prince, which Froissart thus relates:\u2014\n \u2018This battle between Broy and Cressy, this Saturday, was right\n cruel and fell, and many a feat of arms done that day came not to\n my knowledge.... In the morning, the day of the battle, certain\n Frenchmen and Almagnes perforce opened the archers of the prince\u2019s\n battle (_division_ as we should now say), and came and fought with\n the men of arms, hand to hand. Then the second battle of the\n Englishmen came to succour the prince\u2019s battle, the which was time,\n for they had as then much ado. And they with the prince sent a\n messenger to the king, who was on a little windmill hill: then the\n knight said to the king, \u201cSir, the earl of Warwick, and the earl of\n Oxford, Sir Reynold Cobham, and other, such as lie about the prince\n your son, are fiercely fought withal, and are sore handled,\n wherefore they desire you that you and your battle will come and\n aid them, for if the Frenchmen increase, as they doubt they will,\n your son and they shall have much ado.\u201d Then the king said, \u201cIs my\n son dead, or hurt, or on the earth felled?\u201d \u201cNo, sir,\u201d quoth the\n knight, \u201cbut he is hardly matched, wherefore he hath need of your\n aid.\u201d \u201cWell,\u201d said the king, \u201creturn to him, and to them that sent\n you hither, and say to them, that they send no more to me for any\n adventure that falleth, as long as my son is alive: and also say to\n them, that they suffer him this day to win his spurs; for, if God\n be pleased, I will this day\u2019s work be his, and the honour thereof,\n and to them that be about him.\u201d Then the knight returned again to\n them, and showed the king\u2019s words, the which greatly encouraged\n them, and repented in that they had sent to the king as they did.\u2019\n Brave knights, to be \u2018greatly encouraged\u2019 by such stern though\n manly words. We are reminded of the not less brave and knightly\n demeanour of Sir Colin Halket and his men at Waterloo, when the\n Duke of Wellington rode up and asked how they were, and the general\n replied that two-thirds of the brigade were down, and the remainder\n so exhausted that the relief of fresh troops, for however short a\n time, was most desirable. But when the duke said that no relief was\n possible, that all depended on _them_, the answer which the officer\n made for himself and his men was, \u2018Enough, my lord, we stand here\n till the last man falls.\u2019\nThenceforth the knight\u2019s career depended, he would not have said on\nhimself, but on God and his lady: and if we may judge by the ordinary\nlanguage of the romances, his lady was often the object of actual\nadoration, little differing from that he would have addressed to the\nsaints in the hour of danger or of triumph. Philosophic divines teach\nus that although the worship of the saints may become in practice a\ngross and degrading superstition, it has in it an element of true, and\nin itself ennobling, faith in ideals of humanity more or less perfectly\nrevealed in human form: and so while we smile at the fictions of\nextravagant fancy in which the medi\u00e6val knight was wont to clothe his\nlove, and his professions of love, for his mistress, we cannot\nreasonably doubt that in the main, and for that time of youthful\nimaginations rather than of sober reasonings, the knight was right.\nWhen I think of what society was, and what it would still be, without\nthe humanizing influences of womanhood and ladyhood, and what it is by\nmeans of these, I say that the tree may be judged by its fruits, and\nthat it is from a right noble stock, rightly and wisely cultivated in\nthe main, in those old days, that we are still gathering such noble\nfruits. Much evil there was along with the good; and, what is worse,\nmuch confusion between good and evil. I need not tell the reader of\nchivalry romances, or of Lord Tennyson\u2019s reproductions of some of their\nincidents in modern form of thought as well as language, how painfully\nthis confusion defaces many of the fairest characters and most\ninteresting tales of chivalry, while the historical records of the\ntimes in which those romances were written and read show that the\nactual state of morals and manners exhibited the like confusions of\ngood and evil, in the ideals as well as in the conduct of life. But, as\nI have already observed, we see, at least in the romance before us, the\ngood contending with, and mastering the evil, and this not least in the\nend of the story of the guilty loves of Guenever and Launcelot, the\nknight whose fame in romance perhaps surpasses that of Amadis, though\neven medi\u00e6val morality was obliged to censure the constancy of\nLauncelot\u2019s love, while it might unhesitatingly extol that of Amadis.\nLord Tennyson has, I may assume, made every one familiar with the\nretirement of queen Guenever to the nunnery of Almesbury, and with the\ndeath of Arthur; and I venture for the completion of this sketch to\nshow, though from the present volume, how the old story which the poet\nchiefly follows relates the death and draws the character of Launcelot.\nLauncelot, when he heard of those events, went to Almesbury, and after\ntaking leave of the queen, resolved to follow her example; and became a\nhermit and penitent, taking up his abode in a forest where was an\nhermitage and a chapel that stood between two cliffs; and there he\nserved God day and night with prayers and fastings. Thus he, and other\nknights who followed his example, \u2018endured great penance six years, and\nthen Sir Launcelot took the habit of priesthood, and a twelvemonth he\nsang mass.\u2019 At the end of that time a vision directed him to take the\nbody of queen Guenever, now dead at Almesbury, and bury her with king\nArthur at Glastonbury. Then the story goes on:\u2014\u2018And when she was put\nin the earth Sir Launcelot swooned and lay long still, while the hermit\ncame out and awaked him, and said, Ye be to blame, for ye displease God\nwith such manner of sorrow making. Truly, said Sir Launcelot, I trust I\ndo not displease God, for He knoweth mine intent, for my sorrow was\nnot, nor is not, for any rejoicing of sin, but my sorrow may never have\nend. For when I remember of her beauty, and of her noblesse, that was\nboth with her king and with her; so when I saw his corpse and her\ncorpse so lie together, truly mine heart would not serve to sustain my\ncareful body. Also when I remember me how by my default, and mine\norgule, and my pride, that they were both laid full low, that were\npeerless that ever was living of christian people, wit ye well, said\nSir Launcelot, this remembered, of their kindness and mine unkindness,\nsank so to my heart, that all my natural strength failed me, so that I\nmight not sustain myself.\u2019 The story goes on to say that there he\nwasted away, praying night and day at the tomb of the king and queen.\nHe died, and was taken to his own castle of Joyous Gard to be buried.\n\u2018And right thus as they were at their service there came Sir Ector de\nMaris, that had seven year sought all England, Scotland, and Wales,\nseeking his brother Sir Launcelot. And when Sir Ector heard such noise\nand light in the quire of Joyous Gard he alight, and put his horse from\nhim, and came into the quire, and there he saw men sing and weep. And\nall they knew Sir Ector, but he knew not them. Then went Sir Bors unto\nSir Ector, and told him how there lay his brother Sir Launcelot dead.\nAnd then Sir Ector threw his shield, sword, and helm from him; and when\nhe beheld Sir Launcelot\u2019s visage he fell down in a swoon; and when he\nawaked it were hard for any tongue to tell the doleful complaints that\nhe made for his brother. Ah, Launcelot, he said, thou were head of all\nChristian knights! And now, I dare say, said Sir Ector, thou Sir\nLauncelot, there thou liest, that thou were never matched of earthly\nknight\u2019s hands; and thou were the courtiest knight that ever bare\nshield; and thou were the truest friend to thy lover that ever bestrode\nhorse; and thou were the truest lover, of a sinful man, that ever loved\nwoman; and thou were the kindest man that ever strake with sword; and\nthou were the goodliest person ever came among press of knights; and\nthou was the meekest man and the gentlest that ever ate in hall among\nladies; and thou were the sternest knight to thy mortal foe that ever\nput spear in the rest.\u2019\nLet me compare with this Chaucer\u2019s description of the knight of his\ntimes:\u2014\n \u2018A knight there was, and that a worthy[41] man,\n That from the tim\u00e9 that he first began\n To riden out, he loved chivalry,\n Truth and hon\u00f3ur, freedom and courtesy.\n Full worthy was he in his lord\u00e9s war,\n And thereto had he ridden, no man farre,\n As well in Christendom as in Heatheness,\n And ever honoured for his worthiness.\n At Alisandre he was when it was won:\n Full oftentime he had the board begun\n Aboven all\u00e9 nati\u00f3ns in Prusse[42]:\n In Lethowe had he reys\u00e9d[43], and in Russe,\n No Christian man so oft, of his degree:\n In Gernade at the siege eke had he be\n Of Algesir, and ridden in Belmarie:\n At Ley\u00e9s was he, and at Satalie,\n When they were won; and in the Great\u00e9 Sea\n At many a noble army had he be.\n At mortal battles had he been fifteen,\n And foughten for our faith at Tramissene\n In list\u00e9s thri\u00e9s, and aye slain his foe.\n This ilk\u00e9 worthy knight had been also\n Sometim\u00e9 with the lord of Palathie\n Against another heathen in Turkey;\n And evermore he had a sovereign prise[44],\n And though that he was worthy he was wise,\n And of his port as meek as is a maid.\n He never yet no villainy ne said\n In all his life unto no manner wight:\n He was a very perfect gentle knight.\u2019\nIn an age when all men, not of the clergy, were divided between the two\nclasses of freemen or gentlemen, and serfs or villains, and the\nvillains were in habits and in human culture little better than the\ndomestic animals of which they shared the labours, the knight almost\ninevitably belonged to the class of free, or gentle, birth. Still, in\ntheory always, and to a great extent in practice, it was not his birth,\nbut his personal merit, which qualified him for knighthood. The\npersonal merit would oftener exist, and still oftener come to light,\nwhere it had the advantages and aids of education and general social\nculture. But if it was recognised in the villain, or man of no rights\nof birth, he might be, and often was, knighted, and was thereby\nimmediately enfranchised, and accounted a gentleman, in law no less\nthan in name. Thus Froissart tells us of Sir Robert Sale, the governor\nof Norwich, that \u2018he was no gentleman born, but he had the grace to be\nreputed sage and valiant in arms, and for his valiantness King Edward\nmade him knight.\u2019 He was governor during the popular insurrection of\nwhich Wat Tyler and Jack Straw were the London leaders; and he was\ninvited to put himself at the head of one of the risings by men who\nurged upon him\u2014\u2018Sir Robert, ye are a knight and a man greatly beloved\nin this country, and renowned a valiant man; and though ye be thus, yet\nwe know you well: ye be no gentleman born, but son to a villain, such\nas we be: therefore come you with us, and be our master, and we shall\nmake you so great a lord that one quarter of England shall be under\nyour obeisance.\u2019 He refused, and they killed him. The same king also\nknighted the man-at-arms, son of a tanner, who was afterwards famous as\nSir John Hawkwood. And the courtly as well as knightly Chaucer, who\nmust more or less have reflected the feeling of the royal and noble\npersonages among whom he lived, goes farther, and asserts that not only\ndoes virtue make the gentleman, but also baseness of mind the villain\nor churl:\u2014\n \u2018But understand in thine intent,\n That this is not mine intendement,\n To clepen no wight in no age\n Only gentle for his lineage;\n But whoso that is virtuous,\n And in his port nought outrageous,\n Though he be not gentle born,\n Thou may\u2019st well see this in soth,\n That he is gentle because he doth\n As longeth to a gentleman;\n Of them none other deem I can:\n For certainly, withouten drede,\n A churl is deemed by his deed,\n Of high or low, as you may see,\n Or of what kindred that he be.\u2019\nAkin to this recognition of gentleness of mind and manners, as that\nwhich made a gentleman, was the sense of brotherhood among knights and\ngentlemen, which led them to trust in each other\u2019s honour, even when\nthey were fighting under the banners of hostile kings. The chronicles\nare full of the instances of such consideration of the English and\nFrench knights for each other in the wars between the two nations; and\nit is not without probability that to these and suchlike manifestations\nof the spirit of chivalry have been traced the courtesy and humanity\nwhich characterise modern warfare in a degree unknown to the ancients.\nMuch indeed of barbarism and cruelty there was in the usages of war in\nthe best times of chivalry, even of the knights among themselves, and\nstill more when they came, with passions infuriated by resistance, upon\nthe people of lower rank than themselves. Edward III of England, and\nthe knights whom he gathered round him, are held alike by contemporary\nhistorians and romance writers, and by those of modern times, to have\nbest exhibited the characteristics of chivalry in its day of greatest\nrefinement as well as splendour; yet no one can read the chronicles of\neven the admiring Froissart without seeing how much savage passion and\ncruelty was often mingled with their better dispositions: though we do\nsee also that the cruelty was not because, but in spite of their\nchivalry. Froissart laments bitterly the iniquity of the massacre by\nthe Black Prince of the people of Limoges, men, women, and children,\nmore than three thousand. And when Edward III, before him, intended, as\nwould seem, to have treated the town of Calais in like manner, not only\ndid the French knights who had offered to surrender declare that they\nwould \u2018endure as much pain as knights ever did, rather than the poorest\nlad in the town should have any more evil than the greatest of us\nall\u2019\u2014showing that they made no selfish distinction between the noble\nand the villain\u2014but the English knights, headed by Sir Walter of\nManny, that flower of knighthood, protested to the utmost against their\nking\u2019s purpose. And when he had yielded so far to their urgency as to\nsay that he would be content with the lives of the six chief burgesses,\nSir Walter of Manny again remonstrated, saying, \u2018Ah, noble king, for\nGod\u2019s sake refrain your courage: ye have the name of sovereign\nnoblesse: therefore now do not a thing that should blemish your renown,\nnor to give cause to some to speak of you villainy [to charge you with\nconduct unworthy of a knight and gentleman]; every man will say it is a\ngreat cruelty to put to death such honest persons, who by their own\nwills put themselves into your grace to save their company. Then the\nking wryed away from him, and commanded to send for the hangman, and\nsaid, \u201cThey of Calais had caused many of my men to be slain, wherefore\nthese shall die in likewise.\u201d\u2019\nIt needed a stronger influence than that of Sir Walter of Manny to save\ntheir lives: and this brings me to speak of the LADY of the medi\u00e6val\ntimes; the LADY, who was the counterpart of the KNIGHT, and without\nwhom he could never have existed. Here, indeed, I meet a difficulty\nwhich reminds me of what Coleridge says of the female characters of\nShakspeare, that their truth to nature, and therefore their beauty,\nconsists in the absence of strongly marked features. It is impossible\nto read the poems, romances, or chronicles of the medi\u00e6val times,\nwithout feeling all through how important a part the lady plays\neverywhere; and yet it is far from easy to draw her from her retirement\nand bring distinctly before ourselves what she did, and get a picture\nof her as definite as we can do of the knight. Still I must try to\ntrace the outlines of such a picture of one lady:\u2014Philippa, queen of\nEdward III, whom Froissart calls \u2018the most gentle queen, most liberal,\nand most courteous that ever was queen in her days;\u2019 and who was the\nvery type and representative of the lady, in the highest and best\nsense, in an age in which the ladies\u2014such as the princess Blanche, the\ngood queen Ann, the countess of Salisbury, Jane de Montfort, and the\nwife of Charles de Blois\u2014were renowned for their gentle or their\nheroic characters.\nWhen Isabel, queen of Edward II, visited Hainault with her son,\nafterwards Edward III, we are told that William, earl of Hainault, \u2018had\nfour fair daughters, Margaret, Philippa, Jane, and Isabel: among whom\nthe young Edward set most his love and company on Philippa; and also\nthe young lady in all honour was more conversant with him than any of\nher sisters.\u2019 Queen Isabel had come to ask for aid against her enemies,\nand Froissart gives an account of the discussion between the earl and\nhis council, who objected on prudential grounds to interfering with the\nquarrels of the English, and the earl\u2019s brother, Sir John Hainault, who\nmaintained that \u2018all knights ought to aid to their powers all ladies\nand damsels chased out of their own countries, being without counsel or\ncomfort.\u2019 The earl finally yielded, saying, \u2018My fair brother, God\nforbid that your good purpose should be broken or let. Therefore, in\nthe name of God, I give you leave; and kissed him, straining him by the\nhand in sign of great love.\u2019 The whole passage is too long to quote,\nbut thus much gives a lively picture of the temper of the home and\ncourt in which the young Philippa was brought up.\nHer marriage with Edward, then only fifteen years old, was agreed on,\nand sanctioned by the Pope. I am sorry to say that the chronicler gives\nno account of the lady\u2019s bridal outfit[45], except in the general\nterms, that \u2018there was devised and purveyed for their apparel, and for\nall things honourable that belonged to such a lady, who should be queen\nof England.\u2019 They were married, and she arrived in England and was\ncrowned, \u2018with great justs, tourneys, dancing, carolling, and great\nfeasts, the which endured the space of three weeks.\u2019 And then \u2018this\nyoung queen Philippa abode still in England, with small company of any\npersons of her own country, saving one who was named Walter of Manny,\nwho was her carver, and after did so many great prowesses in divers\nplaces, that it were hard to make mention of them.\u2019 If we couple this\nstatement, that she retained hardly any of her own people, with that\nwhich Froissart makes in reviewing her whole life, that \u2018she loved\nalways her own nation where she was born,\u2019 we have pleasing thoughts\nsuggested of the cheerful acceptance of new duties in a foreign land by\nthe young wife; while, if I had space to describe in detail the noble\nlife of Sir Walter of Manny, the reader would agree with me that his\nhabitual presence in the English court must have done much to make both\nEdward and the Black Prince, as well as the rest of the princes and\nnobles, what they were, as knights and gentlemen.\nThe next glimpse we get of the queen is when she appears, accompanied\nwith three hundred ladies and damsels \u2018of noble lineage, and apparelled\naccordingly, at the yearly feast at Windsor, in honour of the order and\nbrotherhood of the Knights of the Blue Garter, there established on St.\nGeorge\u2019s day.\u2019 Again, when the king of Scots had advanced to Newcastle,\nwhile king Edward lay before Calais, we see the queen arriving to meet\nthe English army, and going from division to division, \u2018desiring them\nto do their devoir\u2019\u2014duty was then, as now, the English soldier\u2019s\nword\u2014\u2018to defend the honour of her lord the king of England, and, in\nthe name of God, every man to be of good heart and courage; promising\nthem that to her power she would remember them as well or better as\nthough her lord the king were there personally. Then the queen departed\nfrom them, recommending them to God and St. George.\u2019 She does not seem,\nlike some of the ladies of that generation, to have considered the\nfield to be her place while the battle was going on; but after it was\nwon she returned, and with her council made all necessary arrangements\nand plans. Shortly after she joined her husband while he lay before\nCalais, \u2018bringing many ladies and damsels with her, as well to\naccompany her, as to see their husbands, fathers, brethren, and other\nfriends that lay at siege there before Calais, and had done a long\ntime.\u2019 And I think we may attribute it as well to the general\nhumanising influence of all those ladies, as to the personal persuasion\nof Philippa, that Calais did not suffer the same horrors of war as did\nLimoges at the hands of the Black Prince. To what I have already quoted\nfrom Froissart as to this story, I must now add what he tells us of\nPhilippa, after Edward had refused to hear Sir Walter of Manny. \u2018Then\nthe queen kneeled down, and sore weeping, said, \u201cAh, gentle sir, sith I\npassed the sea in great peril, I have desired nothing of you; therefore\nnow I humbly require you, in the honour of the Son of the Virgin Mary,\nand for the love of me, that ye will take mercy of these six\nburgesses.\u201d The king beheld the queen, and stood still in a study a\nspace, and then said, \u201cAh dame, I would ye had been as now in some\nother place; ye make such request to me that I cannot deny you;\nwherefore I give them to you, to do your pleasure with them.\u201d\u2019\nAnd lastly, as a counterpart to the picture I have already given of the\ndeath of the knight of romance, here is the account of the death of her\nwho was the lady of the brightest day of historical chivalry:\u2014\n\u2018In the mean season there fell in England a heavy case and a common:\nhowbeit it was right piteous for the king, his children, and all his\nrealm; for the good queen of England\u2014that so many good deeds had done\nin her time, and so many knights succoured, and ladies and damosels\ncomforted, and had so largely departed of her goods to her people, and\nnaturally loved always the nation of Haynault, the country where she\nwas born\u2014she fell sick in the castle of Windsor, the which sickness\ncontinued on her so long, that there was no remedy but death; and the\ngood lady, when she knew that there was no remedy but death, she\ndesired to speak with the king her husband, and when he was before her,\nshe put out of her bed her right hand, and took the king by his right\nhand, who was right sorrowful at his heart. Then she said, \u201cSir, we\nhave in peace, joy, and great prosperity, used all our time together:\nsir, now I pray you at our departing, that ye will grant me three\ndesires.\u201d The king, right sorrowfully weeping, said, \u201cMadam, desire\nwhat ye will, I grant it.\u201d The three requests of the dying woman\nwere\u2014that the king should pay all that she owed to any man; that he\nshould fulfil all the promises she had made to the churches where she\nhad \u201chad her devotion,\u201d and that \u201cit might please him to take none\nother sepulture, whensoever it should please God to call him out of\nthis transitory life, but beside her in Westminster.\u201d The king, all\nweeping, said, \u201cMadam, I grant all your desire.\u201d Then the good lady and\nqueen made on her the sign of the cross, and commended the king her\nhusband to God, and her youngest son Thomas, who was there beside her;\nand anon after she yielded up the spirit, which I believe surely the\nholy angels received with great joy up to heaven; for in all her life\nshe did neither in thought nor deed thing to lose her soul, as far as\nany creature could know. Thus the good queen of England died in the\nyear of our Lord 1369, in the vigil of our Lady, in the midst of\nAugust.\u2019\nWe have all pictured to ourselves, again and again, how the lady sat in\nher bower with her embroidery and her missal or romance, and saw from\nher lattice window her knight going from the castle with lance and\npennon, hoping to meet his foe: how the minstrel recited in the castle\nhall the feats of arms of this or that hero in some distant\nbattle-field; and how the matron or the maiden heard those feats, and\nthought with silent joy that it was her lord, her husband, or her\nlover, whose deeds were thus winning the praises of the troubadour, and\nthe applause of the listening knights and squires. We have all seen in\nimagination the tournament, with the pomp and splendour of its mimic\ncontests: contests which surpassed the Olympic and Corinthian games of\nclassic antiquity, not only in their gorgeous show, but still more in\nthe presence of the ladies, noble in birth, and fame, and beauty; whose\nscarf, or glove, the combatants wore as the token of that favour which\nwas their highest incentive to distinguish themselves; and from whose\nhands the conqueror received the prize of skill and bravery: while the\nhonourably vanquished might be sure that he would have the hardly less\nwelcome lot of being cared for by the same ladies, who never shrank\nfrom this their acknowledged and well-fulfilled duty of tending the\nwounded knight.\nPerhaps too we have listened in fancy to the proceedings of the\nso-called Courts of Parliaments of Love, in which the ladies were wont\nto hear questions of gallantry gravely argued on both sides by poets\npleading in verse, and then to give their judgments according to the\nlogical and metaphysical rules which the schoolmen applied to\ntheological enquiries. But I can now but remind my reader that such\nthings were; and must hasten forward, leaving ungathered flowers that\nwould make many a wreath and nosegay.\nThe golden age of chivalry was the period from about the middle of the\neleventh to the end of the fourteenth century. We may say with Gibbon,\nthat the Crusades were at once a cause and an effect of chivalry. In\nthe Crusades the spirit of knighthood, with all its characteristic\nfeatures, actuated vast bodies of men of every rank and nation, and\nfound a foe believed by all Christendom to be to it what the individual\nrobber and plunderer was to the knight errant who went forth in his own\ncountry to defend or rescue the widow and orphan and their possessions,\nor the traveller along the road which passed the castle of some\npowerful though unworthy baron. The chivalry at home was kept alive,\nand raised to its highest energy, both in man and woman, by the\nchivalry in the Holy Land. It is in this period that the chief\ninstitutions of chivalry took their rise, or reached their full form;\nwhile their ruder features were gradually softened with the increasing\nrefinement of the times, till they presented that aspect with which we\nfind them in the days of Edward III and the Black Prince, as drawn by\nFroissart or Chaucer, or in the romances which were then written or\nremodelled out of older materials, and which show that even in the\nestimation of other nations the English court then afforded the pattern\nof knighthood for Christendom.\nThenceforward the outward forms of chivalry began to decay; very\ngradually indeed, and not without apparent resuscitations from time to\ntime. But no real revival was possible; for the immortal spirit was\nseeking new habitations for itself, more fitted to the new world which\nwas succeeding to that of the Middle Ages. And perhaps Cervantes, by\nhelping to tear up with his merciless satire the last remnants of an\nhonest faith in the old forms of chivalry, did as real, though we\ncannot say as genial, a service to the cause of chivalry itself, as\nSpenser did in endeavouring to preserve its spirit by transferring it\nto the region of allegory. The last expiring token of the old spirit in\nthe old forms which I have found, is in the records of the Knights of\nMalta\u2014the Knights Hospitallers of St. John of Jerusalem\u2014when the news\nof the great earthquake in Sicily, in 1783, arrived at Malta. Then\nthose poor feeble-minded sybarites remembered for a moment their\nmanhood and their knighthood, and their vows as Hospitallers; they\nmanned their galleys, and, with food and clothing and medicines, and\nthe consolations of their faith, were speedily seen, in their\nhalf-military, half-priestly garb\u2014the armour covered by the black robe\nwith the white cross\u2014at the bedsides of the wounded and the dying, as\nthey lay amid the still tottering ruins of their devastated houses. In\na very few years, in that same generation, the Order had passed away\nfor ever; but it is pleasant to him who stands in the palace of the\nGrand Masters among the trophies of their former greatness, or treads\nthe aisles of the cathedral of St. John, where every step is upon the\nemblazoned gravestone of a knight, to think of this, and not of any\nless worthy deed, as their last act.\n \u2018The knight\u2019s bones are dust,\n And his good sword rust:\n His soul is with the saints, I trust:\u2019\u2014\nbut he has left to us an imperishable and a rich inheritance, won for\nus by him. To him we owe our MANNERS\u2014all that world of existence\nimplied in the names LADY and GENTLEMAN. Through the Middle Ages it was\n\u2018Our Lady,\u2019 the Virgin mother who embodied and represented to all men\nand women, from the prince to the peasant, their ideals of womanhood\nand ladyhood. In modern times St. Paul has been held to be the model of\na gentleman; in whose acts and writings are found all the principles,\nmaxims, and spirit of a character entirely chivalrous, in the amplest\nsense of the term: while one of our old dramatists has ventured, in\nwords of touching tenderness and reverence, to point to a yet higher\nrealisation of that ideal;\u2014\n That e\u2019er wore earth about him, was a sufferer,\n A soft, meek, patient, humble, tranquil spirit;\n The first true gentleman that ever breathed.\u2019\nAnd it was the transference of these Christian ethics, into the\npractice of common daily, worldly life, in rude, half-barbarous times,\nwhich we owe to the knights and ladies of the Middle Ages; a\ntransference effected slowly, and with much mixture of evil with the\ngood: nor is the work nearly completed yet; but the worth of it can\nhardly be overrated.\nThis is not indeed all, but there is much truth in the old motto,\n\u2018Manners makyth man.\u2019 Manners, like laws, create a region and\natmosphere of virtue within which all good more easily lives and grows,\nand evil finds it harder to maintain itself. How large a portion of the\nsmall, spontaneous kindnesses of hourly life, in which, after all, so\nmuch of our happiness consists, are not only unknown, but impossible,\nwhere habitual, unaffected politeness is wanting.\nBut manners are good, not only as affording a fairer field for the\nexercise of the higher virtues, but good in themselves. They are a real\npart of the beauty and grace of our human life. Courtesy, and\nself-possession, and deference and respect for others; modesty and\ngentleness towards all men, and recognition in all of the true gold of\nhumanity, whether it bear the guinea stamp or no; love of truth and\nhonour; and not only readiness, but eagerness to help the weak, and\ndefend their cause against the strong; and all these irradiated and\nglorified, as often as may be, by that sentiment which\n \u2018\u2014\u2014gives to every power a double power,\n Above their functions and their offices;\u2019\u2014\nthese are the things which make the lady and the gentleman.\nAnd if it should seem as though the chivalry of our own times is\nreduced to something less noble than that of old, when men risked life,\nand things dearer than life, in defending the weak and attacking the\noppressor in his strongholds\u2014when the hardness of the actual fight\nagainst evil-doers was not exaggerated in the romances which pictured\nthe knights contending with dragons and enchanters and giants\u2014we must\nremember that our nineteenth century world is yet far from cleared of\nthe monstrous powers of evil, which still oppress and devour the weak;\nand that a battle, not really less resolute, nor, if need be, less\ndesperate, than those of old, is still carried on by those who, under\nthe modest guise of common life, are fighting in the true spirit of\nchivalry\u2014uniting the most adventurous enthusiasm with the most patient\nendurance, and both with the gentlest service of the poor, the weak,\nand the oppressed; and, what is most worthy of admiration, the service\nof the morally poor, and weak, and oppressed, who, but for such\ndeliverers, must remain in a house of bondage darker than can be built\nor barred by earthly hands.\nBut whether we are content with the chivalry of manners, or aspire to a\nplace in the brotherhood of the chivalry of action, our principles, our\nmaxims, and our examples have come down to us as an inheritance from\nthe past:\u2014an inheritance common to all who care to claim it; and won\nfor us by the old knights, fighting in the name of God and of their\nladies[46].\n KNIGHTS OF THE ROUND TABLE.\n PREFACE OF WILLIAM CAXTON.\nAfter that I had accomplished and finished divers histories, as well of\ncontemplation as of other historial and worldly acts of great\nconquerors and princes, and also certain books of ensamples and\ndoctrine, many noble and divers gentlemen of this realm of England came\nand demanded me many and ofttimes, wherefore that I have not do made\nand imprint the noble history of the Saint Greal, and of the most\nrenowned Christian king, first and chief of the three best Christian,\nand worthy, king Arthur, which ought most to be remembered amongst us\nEnglishmen tofore all other Christian kings; for it is notoriously\nknown through the universal world, that there be nine worthy and the\nbest that ever were, that is to wit, three Paynims, three Jews, and\nthree Christian men. As for the Paynims, they were tofore the\nIncarnation of Christ, which were named, the first Hector of Troy, of\nwhom the history is comen both in ballad and in prose, the second\nAlexander the Great, and the third Julius C\u00e6sar, Emperor of Rome, of\nwhom the histories be well known and had. And as for the three Jews,\nwhich also were tofore the incarnation of our Lord, of whom the first\nwas duke Joshua which brought the children of Israel into the land of\nbehest, the second David king of Jerusalem, and the third Judas\nMachabeus. Of these three the Bible rehearseth all their noble\nhistories and acts. And since the said incarnation have been three\nnoble Christian men, stalled and admitted through the universal world\ninto the number of the nine best and worthy. Of whom was first the\nnoble Arthur, whose noble acts I purpose to write in this present book\nhere following. The second was Charlemain, or Charles the Great, of\nwhom the history is had in many places, both in French and in English.\nAnd the third and last was Godfrey of Boloine, of whose acts and life I\nmade a book unto the excellent prince and king of noble memory, king\nEdward the Fourth. The said noble gentlemen instantly required me to\nimprint the history of the said noble king and conqueror king Arthur,\nand of his knights, with the history of the Saint Greal, and of the\ndeath and ending of the said Arthur; affirming that I ought rather to\nimprint his acts and noble feats, than of Godfrey of Boloine, or any of\nthe other eight, considering that he was a man born within this realm,\nand king and emperor of the same: and that there be in French divers\nand many noble volumes of his acts, and also of his knights. To whom I\nanswered that divers men hold opinion that there was no such Arthur,\nand that all such books as been made of him, be but feigned and fables,\nbecause that some chronicles make of him no mention, nor remember him\nnothing, nor of his knights. Whereto they answered, and one in special\nsaid, that in him that should say or think that there was never such a\nking called Arthur, might well be aretted great folly and blindness.\nFor he said that there were many evidences of the contrary. First ye\nmay see his sepulchre in the monastery of Glastingbury. And also in\nPolicronicon, in the fifth book the sixth chapter, and in the seventh\nbook the twenty-third chapter, where his body was buried, and after\nfound, and translated into the said monastery. Ye shall see also in the\nhistory of Bochas in his book _De Casu Principum_ part of his noble\nacts, and also of his fall. Also Galfridus in his British book\nrecounteth his life: and in divers places of England many remembrances\nbe yet of him, and shall remain perpetually, and also of his knights.\nFirst in the abbey of Westminster, at St. Edward\u2019s shrine, remaineth\nthe print of his seal in red wax closed in beryl, in which is written,\n_Patricius Arthurus Britannie, Gallie, Germanie, Dacie, Imperator_.\nItem in the castle of Dover ye may see Gawaine\u2019s scull, and Cradok\u2019s\nmantle: at Winchester the Round Table: in other places Launcelot\u2019s\nsword and many other things. Then all these things considered, there\ncan no man reasonably gainsay but that there was a king of this land\nnamed Arthur. For in all places, Christian and heathen, he is reputed\nand taken for one of the nine worthy, and the first of the three\nChristian men. And also, he is more spoken of beyond the sea, more\nbooks made of his noble acts, than there be in England, as well in\nDutch, Italian, Spanish, and Greekish, as in French. And yet of record\nremain in witness of him in Wales, in the town of Camelot, the great\nstones and the marvellous works of iron lying under the ground, and\nroyal vaults, which divers now living have seen. Wherefore it is a\nmarvel why he is no more renowned in his own country, save only it\naccordeth to the Word of God, which saith that no man is accepted for a\nprophet in his own country. Then all these things aforesaid alleged, I\ncould not well deny but that there was such a noble king named Arthur,\nand reputed one of the nine worthy, and first and chief of the\nChristian men. And many noble volumes be made of him and of his noble\nknights in French, which I have seen and read beyond the sea, which be\nnot had in our maternal tongue. But in Welsh be many and also in\nFrench, and some in English but no where nigh all. Wherefore, such as\nhave late been drawn out briefly into English I have after the simple\nconning that God hath sent to me, under the favour and correction of\nall noble lords and gentlemen, enprised to imprint a book of the noble\nhistories of the said king Arthur, and of certain of his knights, after\na copy unto me delivered, which copy Sir Thomas Malorye did take out of\ncertain books of French, and reduced it into English. And I, according\nto my copy, have down set it in print, to the intent that noble men may\nsee and learn the noble acts of chivalry, the gentle and virtuous deeds\nthat some knights used in those days, by which they came to honour, and\nhow they that were vicious were punished and oft put to shame and\nrebuke; humbly beseeching all noble lords and ladies, with all other\nestates of what estate or degree they been of, that shall see and read\nin this said book and work, that they take the good and honest acts in\ntheir remembrance, and to follow the same. Wherein they shall find many\njoyous and pleasant histories, and noble and renowned acts of humanity,\ngentleness, and chivalry. For herein may be seen noble chivalry,\ncourtesy, humanity, friendliness, hardiness, love, friendship,\ncowardice, murder, hate, virtue, and sin. Do after the good and leave\nthe evil, and it shall bring you to good fame and renommee. And for to\npass the time this book shall be pleasant to read in, but for to give\nfaith and belief that all is true that is contained herein, ye be at\nyour liberty: but all is written for our doctrine, and for to beware\nthat we fall not to vice nor sin, but to exercise and follow virtue, by\nthe which we may come and attain to good fame and renown in this life,\nand after this short and transitory life to come unto everlasting bliss\nin heaven; the which He grant us that reigneth in heaven, the blessed\nTrinity. Amen.\nThen to proceed forth in this said book, the which I direct unto all\nnoble princes, lords and ladies, gentlemen or gentlewomen, that desire\nto read or hear read of the noble and joyous history of the great\nconqueror and excellent king, King Arthur, sometime king of this noble\nrealm, then called Britain; I, William Caxton, simple person, present\nthis book following, which I have enprised to imprint: and treateth of\nthe noble acts, feats of arms of chivalry, prowess, hardiness,\nhumanity, love, courtesy, and very gentleness, with many wonderful\nhistories and adventures. And for to understand briefly the content of\nthis volume, I have divided it into XXI Books, and every book\nchaptered, as hereafter shall by God\u2019s grace follow. The First Book\nshall treat how Uther Pendragon gat the noble conqueror king Arthur,\nand containeth xxviii chapters. The Second Book treateth of Balin the\nnoble knight, and containeth xix chapters. The Third Book treateth of\nthe marriage of king Arthur to queen Guenever, with other matters, and\ncontaineth xv chapters. The Fourth Book, how Merlin was assotted, and\nof war made to king Arthur, and containeth xxix chapters. The Fifth\nBook treateth of the conquest of Lucius the emperor, and containeth xii\nchapters. The Sixth Book treateth of Sir Launcelot and Sir Lionel, and\nmarvellous adventures, and containeth xviii chapters. The Seventh Book\ntreateth of a noble knight called Sir Gareth, and named by Sir Kay\nBeaumains, and containeth xxxvi chapters. The Eighth Book treateth of\nthe birth of Sir Tristram the noble knight, and of his acts, and\ncontaineth xli chapters. The Ninth Book treateth of a knight named by\nSir Kay Le Cote male taille, and also of Sir Tristram, and containeth\nxliv chapters. The Tenth Book treateth of Sir Tristram, and other\nmarvellous adventures, and containeth lxxxviii chapters. The Eleventh\nBook treateth of Sir Launcelot and Sir Galahad, and containeth xiv\nchapters. The Twelfth Book treateth of Sir Launcelot and his madness,\nand containeth xiv chapters. The Thirteenth Book treateth how Galahad\ncame first to king Arthur\u2019s court, and the quest how the Sangreal was\nbegun, and containeth xx chapters. The Fourteenth Book treateth of the\nquest of the Sangreal, and containeth x chapters. The Fifteenth Book\ntreateth of Sir Launcelot, and containeth vi chapters. The Sixteenth\nBook treateth of Sir Bors and Sir Lionel his brother, and containeth\nxvii chapters. The Seventeenth Book treateth of the Sangreal, and\ncontaineth xxiii chapters. The Eighteenth Book treateth of Sir\nLauncelot and the queen, and containeth xxv chapters. The Nineteenth\nBook treateth of queen Guenever and Launcelot, and containeth xiii\nchapters. The Twentieth Book treateth of the piteous death of Arthur,\nand containeth xxii chapters. The Twenty-first Book treateth of his\nlast departing, and how Sir Launcelot came to revenge his death, and\ncontaineth xiii chapters. The sum is twenty-one books, which contain\nthe sum of five hundred and seven chapters, as more plainly shall\nfollow hereafter.\n The Table or Rubrysshe\n Shortly of the First Book of King Arthur.\nFirst how Uther Pendragon sent for the duke of Cornwall and Igraine his\n wife, and of their departing suddenly again. Chap. i.\nHow Uther Pendragon made war on the duke of Cornwall, and how by the\n means of Merlin he made the duchess his queen. Chap. ii.\nOf the birth of king Arthur, and of his nouriture, and of the death of\n king Uther Pendragon; and how Arthur was chosen king; and of wonders\n and marvels of a sword that was taken out of a stone by the said\n Arthur. Chap. iii.\nHow king Arthur pulled out the sword divers times. Chap. iv.\nHow king Arthur was crowned and how he made officers. Chap. v.\nHow king Arthur held in Wales, at a Pentecost, a great feast, and what\n kings and lords came to his feast. Chap. vi.\nOf the first war that king Arthur had, and how he won the field. Chap.\n vii.\nHow Merlin counselled king Arthur to send for king Ban and king Bors,\n and of their counsel taken for the war. Chap. viii.\nOf a great tourney made by king Arthur and the two kings Ban and Bors,\n and how they went over the sea. Chap. ix.\nHow eleven kings gathered a great host against king Arthur. Chap. x.\nOf a dream of the king with the hundred knights. Chap. xi.\nHow the eleven kings with their host fought against Arthur and his\n host, and many great feats of the war. Chap. xii.\nYet of the same battle. Chap. xiii.\nYet more of the same battle. Chap. xiv.\nYet more of the said battle, and how it was ended by Merlin. Chap. xv.\nHow king Arthur, king Ban, and king Bors rescued king Leodegrance, and\n other incidents. Chap. xvi.\nHow king Arthur rode to Carlion, and of his dream, and how he saw the\n questing beast. Chap. xvii.\nHow king Pellinore took Arthur\u2019s horse and followed the questing beast,\n and how Merlin met with Arthur. Chap. xviii.\nHow Ulfius appeached queen Igraine, Arthur\u2019s mother, of treason; and\n how a knight came and desired to have the death of his master\n revenged. Chap. xix.\nHow Griflet was made knight and justed with a knight. Chap. xx.\nHow twelve knights came from Rome and asked truage for this land of\n Arthur, and how Arthur fought with a knight. Chap. xxi.\nHow Merlin saved Arthur\u2019s life, and threw an enchantment upon king\n Pellinore, and made him to sleep. Chap. xxii.\nHow Arthur by the mean of Merlin got Excalibur his sword of the Lady of\n the Lake. Chap. xxiii.\nHow tidings came to Arthur that king Ryons had overcome eleven kings,\n and how he desired Arthur\u2019s beard to trim his mantle. Chap. xxiv.\nHow all the children were sent for that were born on May-day, and how\n Mordred was saved. Chap. xxv.\nOf a damsel which came girded with a sword, for to find a man of such\n virtue to draw it out of the scabbard. Chap. i.\nHow Balin, arrayed like a poor knight, pulled out the sword, which\n afterward was cause of his death. Chap. ii.\nHow the Lady of the Lake demanded the knight\u2019s head that had won the\n sword, or the maiden\u2019s head. Chap. iii.\nHow Merlin told the adventure of this damsel. Chap. iv.\nHow Balin was pursued by Sir Lanceor, knight of Ireland, and how he\n justed and slew him. Chap. v.\nHow a damsel which was love to Lanceor, slew herself for love, and how\n Balin met with his brother Balan. Chap. vi.\nHow a dwarf reproved Balin for the death of Lanceor, and how king Mark\n of Cornwall found them, and made a tomb over them. Chap. vii.\nHow Merlin prophesied that two the best knights of the world should\n fight there, which were Sir Launcelot and Sir Tristram. Chap. viii.\nHow Balin and his brother, by the counsel of Merlin, took king Ryons\n and brought him to king Arthur. Chap. ix.\nHow king Arthur had a battle against Nero and king Lot of Orkney; and\n how king Lot was deceived by Merlin, and how twelve kings were slain.\n Chap. x.\nOf the interment of twelve kings, and of the prophecy of Merlin how\n Balin should give the dolorous stroke. Chap. xi.\nHow a sorrowful knight came tofore Arthur, and how Balin fetched him,\n and how that knight was slain by a knight invisible. Chap. xii.\nHow Balin and the damsel met with a knight which was in like wise\n slain, and how the damsel bled for the custom of a castle. Chap. xiii.\nHow Balin met with that knight named Garlon at a feast, and there he\n slew him to have his blood to heal therewith the son of his host.\n Chap. xiv.\nHow Balin fought with king Pellam, and how his sword brake, and how he\n gat a spear, wherewith he smote the dolorous stroke. Chap. xv.\nHow Balin was delivered by Merlin, and saved a knight that would have\n slain himself for love. Chap. xvi.\nHow that knight slew his love, and a knight with her; and after how he\n slew himself with his own sword, and how Balin rode toward a castle\n where he lost his life. Chap. xvii.\nHow Balin met with his brother Balan, and how each of them slew other\n unknown, till they were wounded to death. Chap. xviii.\nHow Merlin buried them both in one tomb, and of Balin\u2019s sword. Chap.\n xix.\n Here follow the Chapters of the Third Book.\nHow king Arthur took a wife, and wedded Guenever daughter to\n Leodegrance, king of the land of Cameliard, with whom he had the\n Round Table. Chap. i.\nHow the knights of the Round Table were ordained and their sieges\n blessed by the bishop of Canterbury. Chap. ii.\nHow a poor man riding upon a lean mare desired of king Arthur to make\n his son knight. Chap. iii.\nHow Sir Tor was known for son of king Pellinore, and how Gawaine was\n made knight. Chap. iv.\nHow at the feast of the wedding of king Arthur to Guenever, a white\n hart came into the hall, and thirty couple hounds, and how a brachet\n pinched the hart, which was taken away. Chap. v.\nHow Sir Gawaine rode for to fetch again the hart, and how two brethren\n fought each against other for the hart. Chap. vi.\nHow the hart was chased into a castle, and there slain; and how Gawaine\n slew a lady. Chap. vii.\nHow four knights fought against Sir Gawaine and Gaheris, and how they\n were overcome and their lives saved at the request of four ladies.\n Chap. viii.\nHow Sir Tor rode after the knight with the brachet, and of his\n adventure by the way. Chap. ix.\nHow Sir Tor found the brachet with a lady, and how a knight assailed\n him for the said brachet. Chap. x.\nHow Sir Tor overcame the knight, and how he lost his head at the\n request of a lady. Chap. xi.\nHow king Pellinore rode after the lady and the knight that led her\n away, and how a lady desired help of him, and how he fought with two\n knights for that lady, of whom he slew that one at the first stroke.\n Chap. xii.\nHow king Pellinore gat the lady, and brought her to Camelot to the\n court of king Arthur. Chap. xiii.\nHow on the way he heard two knights as he lay by night in a valley, and\n of other adventures. Chap. xiv.\nHow when he was come to Camelot he was sworn upon a book to tell the\n truth of his quest. Chap. xv.\n Here follow the Chapters of the Fourth Book.\nHow Merlin was assotted, and doted on one of the ladies of the lake,\n and how he was shut in a rock under a stone, and there died. Chap. i.\nHow five kings came into this land to war against king Arthur, and what\n counsel Arthur had against them. Chap. ii.\nHow king Arthur had ado with them, and overthrew them, and slew the\n five kings, and made the remnant to flee. Chap. iii.\nHow the battle was finished or he came, and how the king founded an\n abbey where the battle was. Chap. iv.\nHow Sir Tor was made knight of the Round Table, and how Bagdemagus was\n displeased. Chap. v.\nHow king Arthur, king Uriens, and Sir Accolon of Gaul chased an hart,\n and of their marvellous adventure. Chap. vi.\nHow Arthur took upon him to fight, to be delivered out of prison, and\n also for to deliver twenty knights that were in prison. Chap. vii.\nHow Accolon found himself by a well, and he took upon him to do battle\n against Arthur. Chap. viii.\nOf the battle between king Arthur and Accolon. Chap. ix.\nHow king Arthur\u2019s sword that he fought with brake, and how he recovered\n of Accolon his own sword Excalibur, and overcame his enemy. Chap. x.\nHow Accolon confessed the treason of Morgan le fay, king Arthur\u2019s\n sister, and how she would have done slay him. Chap. xi.\nHow Arthur accorded the two brethren, and delivered the twenty knights,\n and how Sir Accolon died. Chap. xii.\nHow Morgan would have slain Sir Uriens her husband, and how Sir Ewain\n her son saved him. Chap. xiii.\nHow queen Morgan le fay made great sorrow for the death of Accolon, and\n how she stole away the scabbard from Arthur. Chap. xiv.\nHow Morgan le fay saved a knight that should have been drowned, and how\n king Arthur returned home again. Chap. xv.\nHow the damsel of the lake saved king Arthur from a mantle which should\n have burnt him. Chap. xvi.\nHow Sir Gawaine and Sir Ewain met with twelve fair damsels, and how\n they complained on Sir Marhaus. Chap. xvii.\nHow Sir Marhaus justed with Sir Gawaine and Sir Ewain, and overthrew\n them both. Chap. xviii.\nHow Sir Marhaus, Sir Gawaine, and Sir Ewain met three damsels, and each\n of them took one. Chap. xix.\nHow a knight and a dwarf strove for a lady. Chap. xx.\nHow king Pelleas suffered himself to be taken prisoner because he would\n have a sight of his lady, and how Sir Gawaine promised him for to get\n to him the love of his lady. Chap. xxi.\nHow Sir Gawaine came to the lady Ettard, and how Sir Pelleas found them\n sleeping. Chap. xxii.\nHow Sir Pelleas loved no more Ettard, by the mean of the damsel of the\n lake, whom he loved ever after. Chap. xxiii.\nHow Sir Marhaus rode with the damsel, and how he came to the duke of\n the South Marches. Chap. xxiv.\nHow Sir Marhaus fought with the duke and his six sons, and made them to\n yield them. Chap. xxv.\nHow Sir Ewain rode with the damsel of sixty year of age, and how he gat\n the prize at tourneying. Chap. xxvi.\nHow Sir Ewain fought with two knights, and overcame them. Chap. xxvii.\nHow at the year\u2019s end all three knights with their three damsels met at\n the fountain. Chap. xxviii.\n Of the Fifth Book the Chapters follow.\nHow twelve aged ambassadors of Rome came to king Arthur to demand\n truage for Britain. Chap. i.\nHow the kings and lords promised to king Arthur aid and help against\n the Romans. Chap. ii.\nHow king Arthur held a parliament at York, and how he ordained how the\n realm should be governed in his absence. Chap. iii.\nHow king Arthur being shipped, and lying in his cabin, had a marvellous\n dream, and of the exposition thereof. Chap. iv.\nHow a man of the country told to him of a marvellous giant, and how he\n fought and conquered him. Chap. v.\nHow king Arthur sent Sir Gawaine and other to Lucius, and how they were\n assailed and escaped with worship. Chap. vi.\nHow Lucius sent certain spies in a bushment, for to have taken his\n knights, being prisoners, and how they were letted. Chap. vii.\nHow a senator told to Lucius of their discomfiture, and also of the\n great battle between Arthur and Lucius. Chap. viii.\nHow Arthur, after he had achieved the battle against the Romans,\n entered into Almaine, and so into Italy. Chap. ix.\nOf a battle done by Gawaine against a Saracen, which after was yielden\n and became Christian. Chap. x.\nHow the Saracens came out of a wood for to rescue their beasts, and of\n a great battle. Chap. xi.\nHow Sir Gawaine returned to king Arthur with his prisoners, and how the\n king won a city, and how he was crowned emperor. Chap. xii.\n Here follow the Chapters of the Sixth Book.\nHow Sir Launcelot and Sir Lionel departed from the court for to seek\n adventures, and how Sir Lionel left him sleeping, and was taken.\n Chap. i.\nHow Sir Ector followed for to seek Sir Launcelot, and how he was taken\n by Sir Turquine. Chap. ii.\nHow four queens found Launcelot sleeping, and how by enchantment he was\n taken and led into a castle. Chap. iii.\nHow Sir Launcelot was delivered by the mean of a damsel. Chap. iv.\nHow a knight found Sir Launcelot, and how Sir Launcelot fought with the\n knight. Chap. v.\nHow Sir Launcelot was received of king Bagdemagus\u2019s daughter, and he\n made his complaint to her father. Chap. vi.\nHow Sir Launcelot behaved him in a tournament, and how he met with Sir\n Turquine leading Sir Gaheris. Chap. vii.\nHow Sir Launcelot and Sir Turquine fought together. Chap. viii.\nHow Sir Turquine was slain, and how Sir Launcelot bad Sir Gaheris\n deliver all the prisoners. Chap. ix.\nHow Sir Launcelot rode with the damsel and slew a knight that\n distressed all ladies, and also a villain that kept a bridge. Chap. x.\nHow Sir Launcelot slew two giants, and made a castle free. Chap. xi.\nHow Sir Launcelot rode disguised in Sir Kay\u2019s harness, and how he smote\n down a knight. Chap. xii.\nHow Sir Launcelot jousted against four knights of the Round Table, and\n overthrew them. Chap. xiii.\nHow Sir Launcelot followed a brachet into a castle, where he found a\n dead knight, and how he after was required of a damsel to heal her\n brother. Chap. xiv.\nHow Sir Launcelot came into the Chapel Perilous, and gat there of a\n dead corpse a piece of the cloth and a sword. Chap. xv.\nHow Sir Launcelot, at the request of a lady, recovered a falcon, by\n which he was deceived. Chap. xvi.\nHow Sir Launcelot overtook a knight which chased his wife to have slain\n her, and how he said to him. Chap. xvii.\nHow Sir Launcelot came to king Arthur\u2019s court, and how there were\n recounted all his noble feats and acts. Chap. xviii.\n Here follow the Chapters of the Seventh Book.\nHow Beaumains came to king Arthur\u2019s court, and demanded three petitions\n of king Arthur. Chap. i.\nHow Sir Launcelot and Sir Gawaine were wroth because Sir Kay mocked\n Beaumains, and of a damsel which desired a knight for to fight for a\n lady. Chap. ii.\nHow Beaumains desired the battle, and how it was granted to him, and\n how he desired to be made knight of Sir Launcelot. Chap. iii.\nHow Beaumains departed, and how he gat of Sir Kay a spear and a shield,\n and how he justed and fought with Sir Launcelot. Chap. iv.\nHow Beaumains told to Sir Launcelot his name, and how he was dubbed\n knight of Sir Launcelot, and after overtook the damsel. Chap. v.\nHow Sir Beaumains fought and slew two knights at a passage. Chap. vi.\nHow Beaumains fought with the knight of the black lands, and fought\n with him till he fell down and died. Chap. vii.\nHow the brother of the knight that was slain met with Beaumains, and\n fought with Beaumains till he was yielden. Chap. viii.\nHow the damsel ever rebuked Beaumains, and would not suffer him to sit\n at her table, but called him kitchen boy. Chap. ix.\nHow the third brother, called the red knight, jousted and fought\n against Beaumains, and how Beaumains overcame him. Chap. x.\nHow Sir Beaumains suffered great rebukes of the damsel, and he suffered\n it patiently. Chap. xi.\nHow Sir Beaumains fought with Sir Persant of inde, and made him to be\n yielden. Chap. xii.\nOf the goodly communication between Sir Persant and Beaumains, and how\n he told him that his name was Sir Gareth. Chap. xiii.\nHow the lady that was besieged had word from her sister how she had\n brought a knight to fight for her, and what battles he had achieved.\n Chap. xiv.\nHow the damsel and Beaumains came to the siege, and came to a sycamore\n tree, and there Beaumains blew an horn, and then the knight of the\n red lands came to fight with him. Chap. xv.\nHow the two knights met together, and of their talking, and how they\n began their battle. Chap. xvi.\nHow after long fighting Beaumains overcame the knight and would have\n slain him, but at the request of the lords he saved his life, and\n made him to yield him to the lady. Chap. xvii.\nHow the knight yielded him, and how Beaumains made him to go unto king\n Arthur\u2019s court, and to cry Sir Launcelot mercy. Chap. xviii.\nHow Beaumains came to the lady, and when he came to the castle the\n gates were closed against him, and of the words that the lady said to\n him. Chap. xix.\nHow Sir Beaumains rode after to rescue his dwarf, and came into the\n castle where he was. Chap. xx.\nHow Sir Gareth, otherwise called Beaumains, came to the presence of his\n lady, and how they took acquaintance, and of their love. Chap. xxi.\nHow at night came an armed knight, and fought with Sir Gareth, and he,\n sore hurt in the thigh, smote off the knight\u2019s head. Chap. xxii.\nHow the said knight came again the next night, and was beheaded again.\n And how at the feast of Pentecost all the knights that Sir Gareth had\n overcome came and yielded them to king Arthur. Chap. xxiii.\nHow king Arthur pardoned them, and demanded of them where Sir Gareth\n was. Chap. xxiv.\nHow the queen of Orkney came to this feast of Pentecost, and Sir\n Gawaine and his brethren came to ask her blessing. Chap. xxv.\nHow king Arthur sent for the lady Liones, and how she let cry a tourney\n at her castle, where as came many knights. Chap. xxvi.\nHow king Arthur went to the tournament with his knights, and how the\n lady received him worshipfully, and how the knights encountered.\n Chap. xxvii.\nHow the knights bare them in battle. Chap. xxviii.\nYet of the said tournament. Chap. xxix.\nHow Sir Gareth was espied by the heralds, and how he escaped out of the\n field. Chap. xxx.\nHow Sir Gareth came to a castle where he was well lodged, and how he\n justed with a knight and slew him. Chap. xxxi.\nHow Sir Gareth fought with a knight that held within his castle thirty\n ladies, and how he slew him. Chap. xxxii.\nHow Sir Gawaine and Sir Gareth fought each against other, and how they\n knew each other by the damsel Linet. Chap. xxxiii.\nHow Sir Gareth acknowledged that they loved each other to king Arthur,\n and of the appointment of their wedding. Chap. xxxiv.\nOf the great royalty, and what officers were made at the feast of the\n wedding, and of the justs at the feast. Chap. xxxv.\n Here follow the Chapters of the Eighth Book.\nHow Sir Tristram de Liones was born, and how his mother died at his\n birth, wherefore she named him Tristram. Chap. i.\nHow the step-mother of Sir Tristram had ordained poison for to have\n poisoned Sir Tristram. Chap. ii.\nHow Sir Tristram was sent into France, and had one to govern him named\n Gouvernail, and how he learned to harp, hawk, and hunt. Chap. iii.\nHow Sir Marhaus came out of Ireland for to ask truage of Cornwall, or\n else he would fight therefore. Chap. iv.\nHow Tristram enterprized the battle to fight for the truage of\n Cornwall, and how he was made knight. Chap. v.\nHow Sir Tristram arrived into the island for to furnish the battle with\n Sir Marhaus. Chap. vi.\nHow Sir Tristram fought against Sir Marhaus, and achieved his battle,\n and how Sir Marhaus fled to his ship. Chap. vii.\nHow Sir Marhaus, after that he was arrived in Ireland, died of the\n stroke that Tristram had given to him, and how Tristram was hurt.\n Chap. viii.\nHow Sir Tristram was put to the keeping of La Beale Isoud, for to be\n healed of his wound. Chap. ix.\nHow Sir Tristram won the degree at a tournament in Ireland, and there\n made Palamides to bear no harness in a year. Chap. x.\nHow the queen espied that Sir Tristram had slain her brother, Sir\n Marhaus, by his sword, and in what jeopardy he was. Chap. xi.\nHow Sir Tristram departed from the king and La Beale Isoud out of\n Ireland for to come into Cornwall. Chap. xii.\nHow Sir Tristram and king Mark hurt each other for the love of a\n knight\u2019s wife. Chap. xiii.\nHow Sir Tristram came to the lady, and how her husband fought with Sir\n Tristram. Chap. xiv.\nHow Sir Bleoberis demanded the fairest lady in king Mark\u2019s court, whom\n he took away, and how he was fought with. Chap. xv.\nHow Sir Tristram fought with two knights of the Round Table. Chap. xvi.\nHow Sir Tristram fought with Sir Bleoberis for a lady, and how the lady\n was put to choice to whom she would go. Chap. xvii.\nHow the lady forsook Sir Tristram and abode with Sir Bleoberis, and how\n she desired to go to her husband. Chap. xviii.\nHow king Mark sent Sir Tristram for La Beale Isoud toward Ireland, and\n how by fortune he arrived into England. Chap. xix.\nHow king Anguish of Ireland was summoned to come to king Arthur\u2019s court\n for treason. Chap. xx.\nHow Sir Tristram rescued a child from a knight, and how Gouvernail told\n him of king Anguish. Chap. xxi.\nHow Sir Tristram fought for Sir Anguish and overcame his adversary, and\n how his adversary would never yield him. Chap. xxii.\nHow Sir Blamor desired Tristram to slay him, and how Sir Tristram\n spared him, and how they took appointment. Chap. xxiii.\nHow Sir Tristram demanded La Beale Isoud for king Mark, and how Sir\n Tristram and Isoud drank the love drink. Chap. xxiv.\nHow Sir Tristram and Isoud were in prison, and how he fought for her\n beauty, and smote off another lady\u2019s head. Chap. xxv.\nHow Sir Tristram fought with Sir Breunor, and at the last smote off his\n head. Chap. xxvi.\nHow Sir Galahad fought with Sir Tristram, and how Sir Tristram yielded\n him and promised to fellowship with Launcelot. Chap. xxvii.\nHow Sir Launcelot met with Sir Carados bearing away Sir Gawaine, and of\n the rescue of Sir Gawaine. Chap. xxviii.\nOf the wedding of king Mark to La Beale Isoud, and of Bragwaine her\n maid, and of Palamides. Chap. xxix.\nHow Palamides demanded queen Isoud, and how Lambegus rode after to\n rescue her, and of the escape of Isoud. Chap. xxx.\nHow Sir Tristram rode after Palamides, and how he found him and fought\n with him, and by the mean of Isoud the battle ceased. Chap. xxxi.\nHow Sir Tristram brought queen Isoud home, and of the debate of king\n Mark and Sir Tristram. Chap. xxxii.\nHow Sir Lamorak justed with thirty knights, and Sir Tristram at the\n request of king Mark smote his horse down. Chap. xxxiii.\nHow Sir Lamorak sent an horn to king Mark in despite of Sir Tristram,\n and how Sir Tristram was driven into a chapel. Chap. xxxiv.\nHow Sir Tristram was holpen by his men, and of queen Isoud, which was\n put in a lazarcote, and how Tristram was hurt. Chap. xxxv.\nHow Sir Tristram served in war the king Howell of Britain and slew his\n adversary in the field. Chap. xxxvi.\nHow Sir Suppinabiles told Sir Tristram how he was defamed in the court\n of king Arthur, and of Sir Lamorak. Chap. xxxvii.\nHow Sir Tristram and his wife arrived in Wales, and how he met there\n with Sir Lamorak. Chap. xxxviii.\nHow Sir Tristram fought with Sir Nabon and overcame him, and made Sir\n Lamorak lord of the isle. Chap. xxxix.\nHow Sir Lamorak departed from Sir Tristram, and how he met with Sir\n Frol, and after with Sir Launcelot. Chap. xl.\nHow Sir Lamorak slew Sir Frol, and of the courteous fighting with Sir\n Belliance his brother. Chap. xli.\n Here follow the Chapters of the Ninth Book.\nHow a young man came into the court of king Arthur, and how Sir Kay\n called him in scorn La Cote Male Taile. Chap. i.\nHow a damsel came unto the court and desired a knight to take on him an\n inquest, which La Cote Male Taile emprized. Chap. ii.\nHow La Cote Male Taile overthrew Sir Dagonet the king\u2019s fool, and of\n the rebuke that he had of the damsel. Chap. iii.\nHow La Cote Male Taile fought against an hundred knights, and how he\n escaped by the mean of a lady. Chap. iv.\nHow Sir Launcelot came to the court and heard of La Cote Male Taile,\n and how he followed after him, and how La Cote Male Taile was\n prisoner. Chap. v.\nHow Sir Launcelot fought with six knights, and after with Sir Brian,\n and how he delivered the prisoners. Chap. vi.\nHow Sir Launcelot met with the damsel named Maledisant, and named her\n the damsel Bienpensant. Chap. vii.\nHow La Cote Male Taile was taken prisoner, and after rescued by Sir\n Launcelot, and how Sir Launcelot overcame four brethren. Chap. viii.\nHow Sir Launcelot made La Cote Male Taile lord of the castle of\n Pendragon, and after was made knight of the Round Table. Chap. ix.\nHow La Beale Isoud sent letters unto Sir Tristram by her maid\n Bragwaine, and of divers adventures of Sir Tristram. Chap. x.\nHow Sir Tristram met with Sir Lamorak de Galis, and how they fought,\n and after accorded never to fight together. Chap. xi.\nHow Sir Palamides followed the questing beast, and how he smote down\n both Sir Tristram and Sir Lamorak with one spear. Chap. xii.\nHow Sir Lamorak met with Sir Meliagance, and fought together for the\n beauty of queen Guenever. Chap. xiii.\nHow Sir Meliagance told for what cause they fought, and how Sir Lamorak\n justed with king Arthur. Chap. xiv.\nHow Sir Kay met with Sir Tristram, and after of the shame spoken of the\n knights of Cornwall, and how they justed. Chap. xv.\nHow king Arthur was brought into the Forest Perilous, and how Sir\n Tristram saved his life. Chap. xvi.\nHow Sir Tristram came to La Beale Isoud, and how Kehydius began to love\n La Beale Isoud, and of a letter that Tristram found. Chap. xvii.\nHow Sir Tristram departed from Tintagil, and how he sorrowed, and was\n so long in a forest till he was out of his mind. Chap. xviii.\nHow Sir Tristram soused Dagonet in a well, and how Palamides sent a\n damsel to seek Tristram, and how Palamides met with king Mark. Chap.\n xix.\nHow it was noised how Sir Tristram was dead, and how La Beale Isoud\n would have slain herself. Chap. xx.\nHow king Mark found Sir Tristram naked, and made him to be borne home\n to Tintagil, and how he was there known by a brachet. Chap. xxi.\nHow king Mark, by the advice of his council, banished Sir Tristram out\n of Cornwall the term of ten year. Chap. xxii.\nHow a damsel sought help to help Sir Launcelot against thirty knights,\n and how Sir Tristram fought with them. Chap. xxiii.\nHow Sir Tristram and Sir Dinadan came to a lodging where they must just\n with two knights. Chap. xxiv.\nHow Sir Tristram justed with Sir Kay and Sir Sagramor le Desirous, and\n how Sir Gawaine turned Sir Tristram from Morgan le Fay. Chap. xxv.\nHow Sir Tristram and Sir Gawaine rode to have fought against the thirty\n knights, but they durst not come out. Chap. xxvi.\nHow damsel Bragwaine found Tristram sleeping by a well, and how she\n delivered letters to him from Beale Isoud. Chap. xxvii.\nHow Sir Tristram had a fall of Sir Palamides, and how Launcelot\n overthrew two knights. Chap. xxviii.\nHow Sir Launcelot justed with Palamides and overthrew him, and after he\n was assailed with twelve knights. Chap. xxix.\nHow Sir Tristram behaved him the first day of the tournament, and there\n he had the prize. Chap. xxx.\nHow Sir Tristram returned against king Arthur\u2019s party, because he saw\n Sir Palamides on that party. Chap. xxxi.\nHow Sir Tristram found Palamides by a well, and brought him with him to\n his lodging. Chap. xxxii.\nHow Sir Tristram smote down Sir Palamides, and how he justed with king\n Arthur, and other feats. Chap. xxxiii.\nHow Sir Launcelot hurt Sir Tristram, and how after Sir Tristram smote\n down Sir Palamides. Chap. xxxiv.\nHow the prize of the third day was given to Sir Launcelot, and Sir\n Launcelot gave it unto Sir Tristram. Chap. xxxv.\nHow Sir Palamides came to the castle where Sir Tristram was, and of the\n quest that Sir Launcelot and ten knights made for Sir Tristram. Chap.\n xxxvi.\nHow Sir Tristram, Sir Palamides, and Sir Dinadan were taken and put in\n prison. Chap. xxxvii.\nHow king Mark was sorry for the good renown of Sir Tristram: some of\n Arthur\u2019s knights justed with knights of Cornwall. Chap. xxxviii.\nOf the treason of king Mark, and how Sir Gaheris smote him down, and\n Andred his cousin. Chap. xxxix.\nHow after that Sir Tristram, Sir Palamides, and Sir Dinadan had been\n long in prison they were delivered. Chap. xl.\nHow Sir Dinadan rescued a lady from Sir Breuse Saunce Pite, and how Sir\n Tristram received a shield of Morgan le Fay. Chap. xli.\nHow Sir Tristram took with him the shield, and also how he slew the\n paramour of Morgan le Fay. Chap. xlii.\nHow Morgan le Fay buried her paramour, and how Sir Tristram praised Sir\n Launcelot and his kin. Chap. xliii.\nHow Sir Tristram at a tournament bare the shield that Morgan le Fay had\n delivered him. Chap. xliv.\n Here follow the Chapters of the Tenth Book.\nHow Sir Tristram justed and smote down king Arthur, because he told him\n not the cause why he bare that shield. Chap. i.\nHow Sir Tristram saved Sir Palamides\u2019 life, and how they promised to\n fight together within a fortnight. Chap. ii.\nHow Sir Tristram sought a strong knight that had smitten him down, and\n many other knights of the Round Table. Chap. iii.\nHow Sir Tristram smote down Sir Sagramor le Desirous, and Sir Dodinas\n le Savage. Chap. iv.\nHow Sir Tristram met at the perron with Sir Launcelot, and how they\n fought together unknown. Chap. v.\nHow Sir Launcelot brought Sir Tristram to the court, and of the great\n joy that the king and other made for the coming of Sir Tristram.\n Chap. vi.\nHow for despite of Sir Tristram king Mark came with two knights into\n England, and how he slew one of the knights. Chap. vii.\nHow king Mark came to a fountain where he found Sir Lamorak complaining\n for the love of king Lot\u2019s wife. Chap. viii.\nHow king Mark, Sir Lamorak, and Sir Dinadan came to a castle, and how\n king Mark was known there. Chap. ix.\nHow Sir Berluse met with king Mark, and how Sir Dinadan took his part.\n Chap. x.\nHow king Mark mocked Sir Dinadan, and how they met with six knights of\n the Round Table. Chap. xi.\nHow the six knights sent Sir Dagonet to just with king Mark, and how\n king Mark refused him. Chap. xii.\nHow Sir Palamides by adventure met king Mark flying, and how he\n overthrew Dagonet and other knights. Chap. xiii.\nHow king Mark and Sir Dinadan heard Sir Palamides making great sorrow\n and mourning for La Beale Isoud. Chap. xiv.\nHow king Mark had slain Sir Amant wrongfully tofore king Arthur, and\n Sir Launcelot fetched king Mark to king Arthur. Chap. xv.\nHow Sir Dinadan told Sir Palamides of the battle between Sir Launcelot\n and Sir Tristram. Chap. xvi.\nHow Sir Lamorak justed with divers knights of the castle, wherein was\n Morgan le Fay. Chap. xvii.\nHow Sir Palamides would have justed for Sir Lamorak with the knights of\n the castle. Chap. xviii.\nHow Sir Lamorak justed with Sir Palamides and hurt him grievously.\n Chap. xix.\nHow it was told Sir Launcelot that Dagonet chased king Mark, and how a\n knight overthrew him and six knights. Chap. xx.\nHow king Arthur let do cry a justs, and how Sir Lamorak came in and\n overthrew Sir Gawaine and many other. Chap. xxi.\nHow king Arthur made king Mark to be accorded with Sir Tristram, and\n how they departed toward Cornwall. Chap. xxii.\nHow Sir Percivale was made knight of king Arthur, and how a dumb maid\n spake, and brought him to the Round Table. Chap. xxiii.\nHow Sir Lamorak visited king Lot\u2019s wife, and how Sir Gaheris slew her\n which was his own mother. Chap. xxiv.\nHow Sir Agravaine and Sir Mordred met with a knight fleeing, and how\n they both were overthrown, and of Sir Dinadan. Chap. xxv.\nHow king Arthur, the queen, and Launcelot received letters out of\n Cornwall, and of the answer again. Chap. xxvi.\nHow Sir Launcelot was wroth with the letter that he received from king\n Mark, and of Dinadan, which made a lay of king Mark. Chap. xxvii.\nHow Sir Tristram was hurt, and of a war made to king Mark; and of Sir\n Tristram, how he promised to rescue him. Chap. xxviii.\nHow Sir Tristram overcame the battle, and how Elias desired a man to\n fight body for body. Chap. xxix.\nHow Sir Elias and Sir Tristram fought together for the truage, and how\n Sir Tristram slew Elias in the field. Chap. xxx.\nHow at a great feast that king Mark made, an harper came and sang the\n lay that Dinadan had made. Chap. xxxi.\nHow king Mark slew by treason his brother Boudwin, for good service\n that he had done to him. Chap. xxxii.\nHow Anglides, Boudwin\u2019s wife, escaped with her young son, Alisander le\n Orphelin, and came to the castle of Arundel. Chap. xxxiii.\nHow Anglides gave the bloody doublet to Alisander her son the same day\n that he was made knight, and the charge withal. Chap. xxxiv.\nHow it was told to king Mark of Alisander, and how he would have slain\n Sir Sadok for saving of his life. Chap. xxxv.\nHow Sir Alisander wan the prize at a tournament, and of Morgan le Fay;\n and how he fought with Sir Malgrin and slew him. Chap. xxxvi.\nHow queen Morgan le Fay had Alisander in her castle, and how she healed\n his wounds. Chap. xxxvii.\nHow Alisander was delivered from the queen Morgan le Fay by the means\n of a damsel. Chap. xxxviii.\nHow Alisander met with Alice la Beale Pilgrim, and how he justed with\n two knights; and after of him and of Sir Mordred. Chap. xxxix.\nHow Sir Galahalt did do cry a justs in Surluse, and queen Guenever\u2019s\n knights should just against all that would come. Chap. xl.\nHow Sir Launcelot fought in the tournament, and how Sir Palamides did\n arms there for a damsel. Chap. xli.\nHow Sir Galahalt and Palamides fought together, and of Sir Dinadan and\n Sir Galahalt. Chap. xlii.\nHow Sir Archad appealed Sir Palamides of treason, and how Sir Palamides\n slew him. Chap. xliii.\nOf the third day, and how Sir Palamides justed with Sir Lamorak, and\n other things. Chap. xliv.\nOf the fourth day, and of many great feats of arms. Chap. xlv.\nOf the fifth day, and how Sir Lamorak behaved him. Chap. xlvi.\nHow Sir Palamides fought with Corsabrin for a lady, and how Palamides\n slew Corsabrin. Chap. xlvii.\nOf the sixth day, and what then was done. Chap. xlviii.\nOf the seventh battle, and how Sir Launcelot, being disguised like a\n maid, smote down Sir Dinadan. Chap. xlix.\nHow by treason Sir Tristram was brought to a tournament for to have\n been slain, and how he was put in prison. Chap. l.\nHow king Mark let do counterfeit letters from the Pope, and how Sir\n Percivale delivered Sir Tristram out of prison. Chap. li.\nHow Sir Tristram and La Beale Isoud came into England, and how Sir\n Launcelot brought them to Joyous Gard. Chap. lii.\nHow by the counsel of La Beale Isoud Sir Tristram rode armed, and how\n he met with Sir Palamides. Chap. liii.\nOf Sir Palamides, and how he met with Sir Bleoberis and with Sir Ector,\n and of Sir Percivale. Chap. liv.\nHow Sir Tristram met with Sir Dinadan, and of their devices, and what\n he said to Sir Gawaine\u2019s brethren. Chap. lv.\nHow Sir Tristram smote down Sir Agravaine and Sir Gaheris, and how Sir\n Dinadan was sent for by La Beale Isoud. Chap. lvi.\nHow Sir Dinadan met with Sir Tristram, and with justing with Sir\n Palamides Sir Dinadan knew him. Chap. lvii.\nHow they approached the castle Lonazep, and of other devices of the\n death of Sir Lamorak. Chap. lviii.\nHow they came to Humber bank, and how they found a ship there, wherein\n lay the body of king Hermance. Chap. lix.\nHow Sir Tristram with his fellowship came and were with an host which\n after fought with Sir Tristram; and other matters. Chap. lx.\nHow Palamides went for to fight with two brethren for the death of king\n Hermance. Chap. lxi.\nThe copy of the letter written for to revenge the king\u2019s death, and how\n Sir Palamides fought for to have the battle. Chap. lxii.\nOf the preparation of Sir Palamides and the two brethren that should\n fight with him. Chap. lxiii.\nOf the battle between Sir Palamides and the two brethren, and how the\n two brethren were slain. Chap. lxiv.\nHow Sir Tristram and Sir Palamides met Breuse Saunce Pite, and how Sir\n Tristram and La Beale Isoud went unto Lonazep. Chap. lxv.\nHow Sir Palamides justed with Sir Galihodin and after with Sir Gawaine,\n and smote them down. Chap. lxvi.\nHow Sir Tristram and his fellowship came unto the tournament of\n Lonazep; and of divers justs and matters. Chap. lxvii.\nHow Sir Tristram and his fellowship justed, and of the noble feats that\n they did in that tourneying. Chap. lxviii.\nHow Sir Tristram was unhorsed and smitten down by Sir Launcelot, and\n after that Sir Tristram smote down king Arthur. Chap. lxix.\nHow Sir Tristram changed his harness and it was all red, and how he\n demeaned him, and how Sir Palamides slew Launcelot\u2019s horse. Chap. lxx.\nHow Sir Launcelot said to Sir Palamides, and how the prize of that day\n was given unto Sir Palamides. Chap. lxxi.\nHow Sir Dinadan provoked Sir Tristram to do well. Chap. lxxii.\nHow king Arthur and Sir Launcelot came to see La Beale Isoud, and how\n Palamides smote down king Arthur. Chap. lxxiii.\nHow the second day Palamides forsook Sir Tristram, and went to the\n contrary part against him. Chap. lxxiv.\nHow Sir Tristram departed out of the field, and awaked Sir Dinadan, and\n changed his array into black. Chap. lxxv.\nHow Sir Palamides changed his shield and his armour for to hurt Sir\n Tristram, and how Sir Launcelot did to Sir Tristram. Chap. lxxvi.\nHow Sir Tristram departed with La Beale Isoud, and how Sir Palamides\n followed and excused him. Chap. lxxvii.\nHow king Arthur and Sir Launcelot came into their pavilions as they sat\n at supper, and of Palamides. Chap. lxxviii.\nHow Sir Tristram and Sir Palamides did the next day, and how king\n Arthur was unhorsed. Chap. lxxix.\nHow Sir Tristram turned to king Arthur\u2019s side, and how Sir Palamides\n would not. Chap. lxxx.\nHow Sir Bleoberis and Sir Ector reported to queen Guenever of the\n beauty of La Beale Isoud. Chap. lxxxi.\nHow Palamides complained by a well, and how Epinogris came and found\n him, and of their both sorrows. Chap. lxxxii.\nHow Sir Palamides brought to Sir Epinogris his lady, and how Sir\n Palamides and Sir Safire were assailed. Chap. lxxxiii.\nHow Sir Palamides and Sir Safire conducted Sir Epinogris to his castle,\n and of other adventures. Chap. lxxxiv.\nHow Sir Tristram made him ready to rescue Sir Palamides, but Sir\n Launcelot rescued him or he came. Chap. lxxxv.\nHow Sir Tristram and Sir Launcelot, with Palamides, came to Joyous\n Gard, and of Palamides and Sir Tristram. Chap. lxxxvi.\nHow there was a day set between Sir Tristram and Sir Palamides for to\n fight, and how Sir Tristram was hurt. Chap. lxxxvii.\nHow Sir Palamides kept his day to have foughten but Sir Tristram might\n not come, and other things. Chap. lxxxviii.\n Here follow the Chapters of the Eleventh Book.\nHow Sir Launcelot rode on his adventure, and how he helped a dolorous\n lady from her pain, and how that he fought with a dragon. Chap. i.\nHow Sir Launcelot came to Pelles, and of the Sangreal, and how he begat\n Galahad on Elaine, king Pelles\u2019 daughter. Chap. ii.\nHow Sir Launcelot was displeased when he knew that he had been\n deceived, and how Galahad was born. Chap. iii.\nHow Sir Bors came to dame Elaine and saw Galahad, and how he was fed\n with the Sangreal. Chap. iv.\nHow Sir Bors made Sir Pedivere to yield him, and of marvellous\n adventures that he had, and how he achieved them. Chap. v.\nHow Sir Bors departed; and how Sir Launcelot was rebuked of the queen\n Guenever, and of his excuse. Chap. vi.\nHow dame Elaine, Galahad\u2019s mother, came in great estate to Camelot, and\n how Sir Launcelot behaved him there. Chap. vii.\nHow dame Brisen by enchantment brought Sir Launcelot to Elaine, and how\n queen Guenever rebuked him. Chap. viii.\nHow dame Elaine was commanded by queen Guenever to avoid the court, and\n how Sir Launcelot became mad. Chap. ix.\nWhat sorrow queen Guenever made for Sir Launcelot, and how he was\n sought by knights of his kin. Chap. x.\nHow a servant of Sir Aglovale\u2019s was slain, and what vengeance Sir\n Aglovale and Sir Percivale did therefore. Chap. xi.\nHow Sir Percivale departed secretly from his brother, and how he loosed\n a knight bound with a chain; and of other things. Chap. xii.\nHow Sir Percivale met with Sir Ector, and how they fought long, and\n each had almost slain other. Chap. xiii.\nHow by miracle they were both made whole by the coming of the holy\n vessel of Sangreal. Chap. xiv.\n Here follow the Chapters of the Twelfth Book.\nHow Sir Launcelot in his madness took a sword and fought with a knight,\n and after lept into a bed. Chap. i.\nHow Sir Launcelot was carried in an horse-litter, and how Sir Launcelot\n rescued Sir Bliaunt his host. Chap. ii.\nHow Sir Launcelot fought against a boar and slew him, and how he was\n hurt and brought to an hermitage. Chap. iii.\nHow Sir Launcelot was known by dame Elaine, and was borne into a\n chamber, and after healed by the Sangreal. Chap. iv.\nHow Sir Launcelot, after that he was whole and had his mind, he was\n ashamed, and how that Elaine desired a castle for him. Chap. v.\nHow Sir Launcelot came into the Joyous Isle, and there he named himself\n le Chevalier Mal Fet. Chap. vi.\nOf a great tourneying in the Joyous Isle, and how Sir Percivale and Sir\n Ector came thither and Sir Percivale fought with him. Chap. vii.\nHow each of them knew other, and of their courtesy; and how his brother\n Ector came unto him, and of their joy. Chap. viii.\nHow Sir Bors and Sir Lionel came to king Brandegore, and how Sir Bors\n took his son Heline le Blank, and of Sir Launcelot. Chap. ix.\nHow Sir Launcelot, with Sir Percivale and Sir Ector, came to the court,\n and of the great joy of him. Chap. x.\nHow La Beale Isoud counselled Sir Tristram to go unto the court to the\n great feast of Pentecost. Chap. xi.\nHow Sir Tristram departed unarmed and met with Sir Palamides, and how\n they smote each other, and how Palamides forbare him. Chap. xii.\nHow Sir Tristram gat him harness of a knight which was hurt, and how he\n overthrew Sir Palamides. Chap. xiii.\nHow Sir Tristram and Sir Palamides fought long together, and after\n accorded; and how Sir Tristram made him to be christened. Chap. xiv.\n Here follow the Chapters of the Thirteenth Book.\nHow at the Vigil of the feast of Pentecost entered into the hall before\n king Arthur a damsel, and desired Sir Launcelot for to come and dub a\n knight, and how he went with her. Chap. i.\nHow the letters were found written in the Siege Perilous, and of the\n marvellous adventure of the sword in a stone. Chap. ii.\nHow Sir Gawaine assayed to draw out the sword, and how an old man\n brought in Galahad. Chap. iii.\nHow the old man brought Galahad to the Siege Perilous, and set him\n therein, and how all the knights marvelled. Chap. iv.\nHow king Arthur shewed the stone hoving on the water to Galahad, and\n how he drew out the sword. Chap. v.\nHow king Arthur had all the knights together for to just in the meadow\n beside Winchester or they departed. Chap. vi.\nHow the queen desired to see Galahad; and after all the knights were\n replenished with the holy Sangreal, and how all they avowed the\n enquest of the same. Chap. vii.\nHow great sorrow was made of the king and ladies for the departing of\n the knights, and how they departed. Chap. viii.\nHow Galahad gat him a shield, and how they sped that presumed to take\n down the said shield. Chap. ix.\nHow Galahad departed with the shield, and how king Evelake had received\n this shield of Joseph of Aramathye. Chap. x.\nHow Joseph made a cross on the white shield with his blood, and how\n Galahad was by a monk brought to a tomb. Chap. xi.\nOf the marvel that Sir Galahad saw and heard in the tomb, and how he\n made Melias knight. Chap. xii.\nOf the adventure that Melias had, and how Galahad revenged him, and how\n Melias was carried into an abbey. Chap. xiii.\nHow Galahad departed, and how he was commanded to go to the castle of\n maidens to destroy the wicked custom. Chap. xiv.\nHow Sir Galahad fought with the knights of the castle, and destroyed\n the wicked custom. Chap. xv.\nHow Sir Gawaine came to the abbey for to follow Galahad, and how he was\n shriven to a hermit. Chap. xvi.\nHow Sir Galahad met with Sir Launcelot and with Sir Percivale, and\n smote them down, and departed from them. Chap. xvii.\nHow Sir Launcelot, half sleeping and half waking, saw a sick man borne\n in a litter, and how he was healed with the Sangreal. Chap. xviii.\nHow a voice spake to Sir Launcelot, and how he found his horse and his\n helm borne away, and after went afoot. Chap. xix.\nHow Sir Launcelot was shriven, and what sorrow he made; and of good\n ensamples which were shewed to him. Chap. xx.\n Here follow the Chapters of the Fourteenth Book.\nHow Sir Percivale came to a recluse and asked counsel, and how she told\n him that she was his aunt. Chap. i.\nHow Merlin likened the Round Table to the world, and how the knights\n that should achieve the Sangreal should be known. Chap. ii.\nHow Sir Percivale came into a monastery where he found king Evelake,\n which was an old man. Chap. iii.\nHow Sir Percivale saw many men of arms bearing a dead knight, and how\n he fought against them. Chap. iv.\nHow a yeoman desired him to get again an horse, and how Sir Percivale\u2019s\n hackney was slain, and how he gat an horse. Chap. v.\nOf the great danger that Sir Percivale was in by his horse, and how he\n saw a serpent and a lion fight. Chap. vi.\nOf the vision that Sir Percivale saw, and how his vision was expounded,\n and of his lion. Chap. vii.\nHow Sir Percivale saw a ship coming to him-ward, and how the lady of\n the ship told him of her disheritance. Chap. viii.\nHow Sir Percivale promised her help, and how he required her of love,\n and how he was saved from the fiend. Chap. ix.\nHow Sir Percivale for penance rove himself through the thigh; and how\n she was known for the devil. Chap. x.\n Here followeth the Fifteenth Book, which is of Sir Launcelot.\nHow Sir Launcelot came into a chapel, where he found dead, in a white\n shirt, a man of religion of an hundred winter old. Chap. i.\nOf a dead man, how men would have hewen him, and it would not be; and\n how Sir Launcelot took the hair of the dead man. Chap. ii.\nOf a vision that Sir Launcelot had, and how he told it to an hermit,\n and desired counsel of him. Chap. iii.\nHow the hermit expounded to Sir Launcelot his vision, and told him that\n Sir Galahad was his son. Chap. iv.\nHow Sir Launcelot justed with many knights, and he was taken. Chap. v.\nHow Sir Launcelot told his vision unto a woman, and how she expounded\n it to him. Chap. vi.\n Here follow the Chapters of the Sixteenth Book.\nHow Sir Gawaine was nigh weary of the quest of Sangreal, and of his\n marvellous dream. Chap. i.\nOf the vision of Sir Ector, and how he justed with Sir Uwaine les\n Avoutres, his sworn brother. Chap. ii.\nHow Sir Gawaine and Sir Ector came to an hermitage to be confessed, and\n how they told to the hermit their visions. Chap. iii.\nHow the hermit expounded their vision. Chap. iv.\nOf the good counsel that the hermit gave to them. Chap. v.\nHow Sir Bors met with an hermit, and how he was confessed to him, and\n of his penance enjoined to him. Chap. vi.\nHow Sir Bors was lodged with a lady, and how he took on him for to\n fight against a champion for her land. Chap. vii.\nOf a vision which Sir Bors had that night, and how he fought and\n overcame his adversary. Chap. viii.\nHow the lady was restored to her lands by the battle of Sir Bors, and\n of his departing, and how he met Sir Lionel taken and beaten with\n thorns, and also of a maid which should have been dishonoured. Chap.\n ix.\nHow Sir Bors left to rescue his brother, and rescued the damsel; and\n how it was told him that Lionel was dead. Chap. x.\nHow Sir Bors told his dream to a priest which he had dreamed, and of\n the counsel that the priest gave to him. Chap. xi.\nHow the devil in a woman\u2019s likeness would have tempted Sir Bors, and\n how by God\u2019s grace he escaped. Chap. xii.\nOf the holy communication of an abbot to Sir Bors, and how the abbot\n counselled him. Chap. xiii.\nHow Sir Bors met with his brother Sir Lionel, and how Sir Lionel would\n have slain Sir Bors. Chap. xiv.\nHow Sir Colgrevance fought against Sir Lionel for to save Sir Bors, and\n how the hermit was slain. Chap. xv.\nHow Sir Lionel slew Sir Colgrevance, and how after he would have slain\n Sir Bors. Chap. xvi.\nHow there came a voice which charged Sir Bors to touch not him, and of\n a cloud that came between them. Chap. xvii.\n Here follow the Chapters of the Seventeenth Book.\nHow Sir Galahad fought at a tournament, and how he was known of Sir\n Gawaine and Sir Ector de Maris. Chap. i.\nHow Sir Galahad rode with a damsel, and came to the ship whereas Sir\n Bors and Sir Percivale were in. Chap. ii.\nHow Sir Galahad entered into the ship, and of a fair bed therein, with\n other marvellous things, and of a sword. Chap. iii.\nOf the marvels of the sword and of the scabbard. Chap. iv.\nHow king Pelles was smitten through both thighs because he drew the\n sword, and other marvellous histories. Chap. v.\nHow Solomon took David\u2019s sword by the counsel of his wife, and of other\n matters marvellous. Chap. vi.\nA wonderful tale of king Solomon and his wife. Chap. vii.\nHow Galahad and his fellows came to a castle, and how they were fought\n withal, and how they slew their adversaries, and other matters. Chap.\n viii.\nHow the three knights, with Percivale\u2019s sister, came into the waste\n forest, and of an hart and four lions and other things. Chap. ix.\nHow they were desired of a strange custom, the which they would not\n obey; and how they fought and slew many knights. Chap. x.\nHow Sir Percivale\u2019s sister bled a dish full of blood for to heal a\n lady; wherefore she died; and how that the body was put in a ship.\n Chap. xi.\nHow Galahad and Percivale found in a castle many tombs of maidens that\n had bled to death. Chap. xii.\nHow Sir Launcelot entered into the ship where Sir Percivale\u2019s sister\n lay dead; and how he met with Sir Galahad his son. Chap. xiii.\nHow a knight brought unto Sir Galahad an horse, and had him come from\n his father Sir Launcelot. Chap. xiv.\nHow Sir Launcelot was tofore the door of the chamber wherein the holy\n Sangreal was. Chap. xv.\nHow Sir Launcelot had lain fourteen days and as many night as a dead\n man, and other divers matters. Chap. xvi.\nHow Sir Launcelot returned towards Logris, and of other adventures\n which he saw in the way. Chap. xvii.\nHow Galahad came to king Mordrains, and of other matters and\n adventures. Chap. xviii.\nHow Sir Percivale and Sir Bors met with Sir Galahad, and how they came\n to the castle of Carbonek, and other matters. Chap. xix.\nHow Galahad and his fellows were fed of the holy Sangreal, and how our\n Lord appeared to them, and other things. Chap. xx.\nHow Galahad anointed with the blood of the spear the maimed king, and\n of other adventures. Chap. xxi.\nHow they were fed with the Sangreal while they were in prison, and how\n Galahad was made king. Chap. xxii.\nOf the sorrow that Percivale and Bors made when Galahad was dead; and\n of Percivale how he died, and other matters. Chap. xxiii.\n Here follow the Chapters of the Eighteenth Book.\nOf the joy of king Arthur and the queen had of the achievement of the\n Sangreal; and how Launcelot fell to his old love again. Chap. i.\nHow the queen commanded Sir Launcelot to avoid the court, and of the\n sorrow that Launcelot made. Chap. ii.\nHow at a dinner that the queen made there was a knight poisoned, which\n Sir Mador laid on the queen. Chap. iii.\nHow Sir Mador appeached the queen of treason, and there was no knight\n would fight for her at the first time. Chap. iv.\nHow the queen required Sir Bors to fight for her, and how he granted\n upon condition; and how he warned Sir Launcelot thereof. Chap. v.\nHow at the day Sir Bors made him ready for to fight for the queen; and\n when he should fight how another discharged him. Chap. vi.\nHow Sir Launcelot fought against Sir Mador for the queen, and how he\n overcame Sir Mador and discharged the queen. Chap. vii.\nHow the truth was known by the maiden of the lake, and of divers other\n matters. Chap. viii.\nHow Sir Launcelot rode to Astolat, and received a sleeve to bear upon\n his helm at the request of a maid. Chap. ix.\nHow the tourney began at Winchester, and what knights were at the\n justs, and other things. Chap. x.\nHow Sir Launcelot and Sir Lavaine entered in the field against them of\n king Arthur\u2019s court, and how Launcelot was hurt. Chap. xi.\nHow Sir Launcelot and Sir Lavaine departed out of the field, and in\n what jeopardy Launcelot was. Chap. xii.\nHow Launcelot was brought to an hermit for to be healed of his wound,\n and of other matters. Chap. xiii.\nHow Sir Gawaine was lodged with the lord of Astolat, and there had\n knowledge that it was Sir Launcelot that bare the red sleeve. Chap.\n xiv.\nOf the sorrow that Sir Bors had for the hurt of Launcelot; and of the\n anger that the queen had because Launcelot bore the sleeve. Chap. xv.\nHow Sir Bors sought Launcelot and found him in the hermitage, and of\n the lamentation between them. Chap. xvi.\nHow Sir Launcelot armed him to assay if he might bear arms, and how his\n wound burst out again. Chap. xvii.\nHow Sir Bors returned and told tidings of Sir Launcelot, and of the\n tourney, and to whom the prize was given. Chap. xviii.\nOf the great lamentation of the fair maid of Astolat when Launcelot\n should depart, and how she died for his love. Chap. xix.\nHow the corpse of the maid of Astolat arrived tofore king Arthur, and\n of the burying, and how Sir Launcelot offered the mass-penny. Chap.\n xx.\nOf great justs done all a Christmas, and of a great justs and tourney\n ordained by king Arthur, and of Sir Launcelot. Chap. xxi.\nHow Launcelot after that he was hurt of a gentlewoman came to an\n hermit, and of other matters. Chap. xxii.\nHow Sir Launcelot behaved him at the justs, and other men also. Chap.\n xxiii.\nHow king Arthur marvelled much of the justing in the field, and how he\n rode and found Sir Launcelot. Chap. xxiv.\nHow true love is likened to summer. Chap. xxv.\n Here follow the Chapters of the Nineteenth Book.\nHow queen Guenever rode on Maying with certain knights of the Round\n Table and clad all in green. Chap. i.\nHow Sir Meliagraunce took the queen and all her knights, which were\n sore hurt in fighting. Chap. ii.\nHow Sir Launcelot had word how the queen was taken, and how Sir\n Meliagraunce laid a bushment for Launcelot. Chap. iii.\nHow Sir Launcelot\u2019s horse was slain, and how Sir Launcelot rode in a\n cart for to rescue the queen. Chap. iv.\nHow Sir Meliagraunce required forgiveness of the queen, and how she\n appeased Sir Launcelot, and other matters. Chap. v.\nHow Sir Launcelot came in the night to the queen, and how Sir\n Meliagraunce appeached the queen of treason. Chap. vi.\nHow Sir Launcelot answered for the queen, and waged battle against Sir\n Meliagraunce. And how Sir Launcelot was taken in a trap. Chap. vii.\nHow Sir Launcelot was delivered out of prison by a lady, and took a\n white courser, and came for to keep his day. Chap. viii.\nHow Sir Launcelot came the same time that Sir Meliagraunce abode him in\n the field, and dressed him to battle. Chap. ix.\nHow Sir Urre came into Arthur\u2019s court for to be healed of his wounds,\n and how king Arthur would begin to handle him. Chap. x.\nHow king Arthur handled Sir Urre, and after him many other knights of\n the Round Table. Chap. xi.\nHow Sir Launcelot was commanded by Arthur to handle his wounds, and\n anon he was all whole, and how they thanked God. Chap. xii.\nHow there was a party made of an hundred knights against an hundred\n knights, and of other matters. Chap. xiii.\nHere followeth the Book of the Piteous History which is of the Morte or\n Death of king Arthur, and the Chapters of the Twentieth Book.\nHow Sir Agravaine and Sir Mordred were busy upon Sir Gawaine for to\n disclose the love between Sir Launcelot and queen Guenever. Chap. i.\nHow Sir Agravaine disclosed their love to king Arthur, and how king\n Arthur gave them licence to take him. Chap. ii.\nHow Sir Launcelot was espied in the queen\u2019s chamber, and how Sir\n Agravaine and Sir Mordred came with twelve knights to slay him. Chap.\n iii.\nHow Sir Launcelot slew Sir Colgrevance, and armed him in his harness,\n and after slew Sir Agravaine and twelve of his fellows. Chap. iv.\nHow Sir Launcelot came to Sir Bors and told him how he had sped, and in\n what adventure he had been, and how he escaped. Chap. v.\nOf the counsel and advice which was taken by Sir Launcelot and by his\n friends for to save the queen. Chap. vi.\nHow Sir Mordred rode hastily to the king to tell him of the affray and\n death of Sir Agravaine and the other knights. Chap. vii.\nHow Sir Launcelot and his kinsmen rescued the queen from the fire, and\n how he slew many knights. Chap. viii.\nOf the sorrow and lamentation of king Arthur for the death of his\n nephews and other good knights, and also for the queen his wife.\n Chap. ix.\nHow king Arthur at the request of Sir Gawaine concluded to make war\n against Sir Launcelot, and laid siege to his castle called Joyous\n Gard. Chap. x.\nOf the communication between king Arthur and Sir Launcelot, and how\n king Arthur reproved him. Chap. xi.\nHow the cousins and kinsmen of Sir Launcelot excited him to go out to\n battle, and how they made them ready. Chap. xii.\nHow Sir Gawaine justed and smote down Sir Lionel, and how Sir Launcelot\n horsed king Arthur. Chap. xiii.\nHow the pope sent down his bulls to make peace, and how Sir Launcelot\n brought the queen to king Arthur. Chap. xiv.\nOf the deliverance of the queen to the king by Sir Launcelot, and what\n language Sir Gawaine had to Sir Launcelot. Chap. xv.\nOf the communication between Sir Gawaine and Sir Launcelot, with much\n other language. Chap. xvi.\nHow Sir Launcelot departed from the king and from Joyous Gard over\n seaward, and what knights went with him. Chap. xvii.\nHow Sir Launcelot passed over the sea, and how he made great lords of\n the knights that went with him. Chap. xviii.\nHow king Arthur and Sir Gawaine made a great host ready to go over sea\n to make war on Sir Launcelot. Chap. xix.\nWhat message Sir Gawaine sent to Sir Launcelot, and king Arthur laid\n siege to Benwick, and other matters. Chap. xx.\nHow Sir Gawaine and Sir Launcelot did battle together, and how Sir\n Gawaine was overthrown and hurt. Chap. xxi.\nOf the sorrow that king Arthur made for the war, and of another battle\n where also Sir Gawaine had the worse. Chap. xxii.\n Here follow the Chapters of the Twenty-first Book.\nHow Sir Mordred presumed and took on him to be king of England, and\n would have married the queen, his uncle\u2019s wife. Chap. i.\nHow after that king Arthur had tidings he returned and came to Dover,\n where Sir Mordred met him to let his landing, and of the death of Sir\n Gawaine. Chap. ii.\nHow after Sir Gawaine\u2019s ghost appeared to king Arthur, and warned him\n that he should not fight that day. Chap. iii.\nHow by misadventure of an adder the battle began, where Mordred was\n slain, and Arthur hurt to the death. Chap. iv.\nHow king Arthur commanded to cast his sword Excalibur into the water,\n and how he was delivered to ladies in a barge. Chap. v.\nHow Sir Bedivere found him on the morrow dead in an hermitage, and how\n he abode there with the hermit. Chap. vi.\nOf the opinion of some men of the death of king Arthur; and how queen\n Guenever made her a nun in Almesbury. Chap. vii.\nHow when Sir Launcelot heard of the death of king Arthur, and of Sir\n Gawaine, and other matters, he came into England. Chap. viii.\nHow Sir Launcelot departed to seek the queen Guenever, and how he found\n at Almesbury. Chap. ix.\nHow Sir Launcelot came to the hermitage where the archbishop of\n Canterbury was, and how he took the habit on him. Chap. x.\nHow Sir Launcelot went with his seven fellows to Almesbury, and found\n there queen Guenever dead, whom they brought to Glastonbury. Chap. xi.\nHow Sir Launcelot began to sicken, and after died, whose body was borne\n to Joyous Gard for to be buried. Chap. xii.\nHow Sir Ector found Sir Launcelot his brother dead. And how Constantine\n reigned next after Arthur, and of the end of this Book. Chap. xiii.\n KNIGHTS OF THE ROUND TABLE.\n The First Book of King Arthur.\n_First how Uther Pendragon sent for the duke of Cornwall and Igraine\n his wife, and of their departing suddenly again._\nIt befell in the days of Uther Pendragon, when he was king of all\nEngland, and so reigned, that there was a mighty duke in Cornwall that\nheld war against him long time. And the duke was named the duke of\nTintagil. And so by means king Uther sent for this duke, charging him\nto bring his wife with him, for she was called a fair lady, and a\npassing wise, and her name was called Igraine. So when the duke and his\nwife were come unto the king, by the means of great lords they were\naccorded both: the king liked and loved this lady well, and he made\nthem great cheer out of measure, and desired to have had her love. But\nshe was a passing good woman, and would not assent unto the king. And\nthen she told the duke her husband, and said, I suppose that we were\nsent for that I should be dishonoured, wherefore, husband, I counsel\nyou that we depart from hence suddenly, that we may ride all night to\nour own castle. And in like wise as she said so they departed, that\nneither the king nor none of his council were ware of their departing.\nAll so soon as king Uther knew of their departing so suddenly, he was\nwonderly wroth. Then he called to him his privy council, and told them\nof the sudden departing of the duke and his wife. Then they advised the\nking to send for the duke and his wife by a great charge: and if he\nwill not come at your summons, then may ye do your best; then have ye\ncause to make mighty war upon him. So that was done, and the messengers\nhad their answers, and that was this, shortly, that neither he nor his\nwife would not come at him. Then was the king wonderly wroth. And then\nthe king sent him plain word again, and bade him be ready and stuff him\nand garnish him, for within forty days he would fetch him out of the\nbiggest castle that he hath. When the duke had this warning, anon he\nwent and furnished and garnished two strong castles of his, of the\nwhich the one hight Tintagil and the other castle hight Terrabil. So\nhis wife, dame Igraine, he put in the castle of Tintagil, and himself\nhe put in the castle of Terrabil, the which had many issues and\nposterns out. Then in all haste came Uther with a great host, and laid\na siege about the castle of Terrabil. And there he pight many\npavilions, and there was great war made on both parties, and much\npeople slain. Then for pure anger and for great love of fair Igraine\nthe king Uther fell sick. So came to the king Uther Sir Ulfius, a noble\nknight, and asked the king why he was sick. I shall tell thee, said the\nking; I am sick for anger and for love of fair Igraine, that I may not\nbe whole. Well, my lord, said Sir Ulfius, I shall seek Merlin, and he\nshall do you remedy that your heart shall be pleased. So Ulfius\ndeparted, and by adventure he met Merlin in a beggar\u2019s array, and there\nMerlin asked Ulfius whom he sought? and he said he had little ado to\ntell him. Well, said Merlin, I know whom thou seekest, for thou seekest\nMerlin; therefore seek no further, for I am he, and if king Uther will\nwell reward me, and be sworn unto me to fulfil my desire, that shall be\nhis honour and profit more than mine, for I shall cause him to have all\nhis desire. All this will I undertake, said Ulfius, that there shall be\nnothing reasonable but thou shalt have thy desire. Well, said Merlin,\nhe shall have his intent and desire. And therefore, said Merlin, ride\non your way, for I will not be long behind.\n_How Uther Pendragon made war on the duke of Cornwall, and how by the\n means of Merlin he made the duchess his queen._\nThen Ulfius was glad, and rode on more than a pace till that he came to\nUther Pendragon, and told him he had met with Merlin. Where is he? said\nthe king. Sir, said Ulfius, he will not dwell long. Therewithal Ulfius\nwas ware where Merlin stood at the porch of the pavilion\u2019s door. And\nthen Merlin was bound to come to the king. When king Uther saw him he\nsaid he was welcome. Sir, said Merlin, I know all your heart every\ndeal; so ye will be sworn unto me, as ye be a true king anointed, to\nfulfil my desire, ye shall have your desire. Then the king was sworn\nupon the four Evangelists. Sir, said Merlin, this is my desire: after\nye shall win Igraine ye shall have a child by her, and when that is\nborn that it shall be delivered to me for to nourish there as I will\nhave it; for it shall be your worship and the child\u2019s avail, as mickle\nas the child is worth. I will well, said the king, as thou wilt have\nit. Now make you ready, said Merlin: this night shall you see Igraine\nin the castle of Tintagil, and ye shall be like the duke her husband,\nUlfius shall be like Sir Brastias, a knight of the duke\u2019s, and I will\nbe like a knight that hight Sir Jordanus, a knight of the duke\u2019s. But\nwait ye make not many questions with her nor with her men, but say you\nare diseased, and so hie you to bed, and rise not on the morn till I\ncome to you, for the castle of Tintagil is but ten mile hence. So this\nwas done as they had devised. But the duke of Tintagil espied how the\nking rode from the siege of Terrabil, and therefore that night he\nissued out of the castle at a postern, for to have distressed the\nking\u2019s host. And so, through his own issue, the duke himself was slain\nor ever the king came at the castle of Tintagil. So after the death of\nthe duke king Uther came to the castle, more than three hours after his\ndeath; and there he found Igraine. And or day came Merlin came to the\nking and bade him make him ready, and so he kissed the lady Igraine and\ndeparted in all haste. But when the lady heard tell of the duke her\nhusband, and by all record he was dead or ever king Uther came to her,\nthen she marvelled who that might be that came to her in likeness of\nher lord; so she mourned privily and held her peace. Then all the\nbarons by one assent prayed the king of accord between the lady Igraine\nand him. The king gave them leave, for fain would he have been accorded\nwith her. So the king put all the trust in Ulfius to entreat between\nthem; so, by the entreat, at the last the king and she met together.\nNow will we do well, said Ulfius: our king is a lusty knight and\nwifeless, and my lady Igraine is a passing fair lady; it were great joy\nunto us all and it might please the king to make her his queen. Unto\nthat they were all well accorded, and moved it to the king: and anon,\nlike a lusty knight, he assented thereto with good will, and so in all\nhaste they were married in a morning with great mirth and joy.\nAnd king Lot of Lothian and of Orkney then wedded Margawse that was\nGawaine\u2019s mother: and king Nentres of the land of Garlot wedded Elaine.\nAll this was done at the request of king Uther. And the third sister,\nMorgan le Fay, was put to school in a nunnery: and there she learned so\nmuch that she was a great clerk of nigromancy. And after she was wedded\nto king Uriens of the land of Gore, that was Sir Ewaine\u2019s le\nBlanchemains father.\n_Of the birth of king Arthur, and of his nouriture; and of the death of\n king Uther Pendragon; and how Arthur was chosen king; and of wonders\n and marvels of a sword that was taken out of a stone by the said\n Arthur._\nThen the time came that the queen Igraine should bear a child. So it\nfell within half a year, as king Uther was with his queen, he asked\nher, by the faith she owed unto him, whose was the child that should be\nborn: then was she sore abashed to give answer. Dismay you not, said\nthe king, but tell me the truth, and I shall love you the better, by\nthe faith of my body. Sir, said she, I shall tell you the truth. The\nsame night that my lord was dead, the hour of his death, as his knights\nrecord, there came into my castle of Tintagil a man like my lord in\nspeech and countenance, and two knights with him in likeness of his two\nknights Brastias and Jordans, and so I welcomed him as I ought to\nwelcome my lord: and thus, as I shall answer unto God, this child was\nbegotten. That is truth, said the king, as you say, for it was I myself\nthat came in the likeness, and therefore dismay you not, for I am\nfather to the child. And there he told her all the cause how it was by\nMerlin\u2019s counsel. Then the Queen made great joy when she knew who was\nthe father of her child. Soon came Merlin unto the king and said, Sir,\nye must purvey you for the nourishing of your child. As thou wilt, said\nthe king, be it. Well, said Merlin, I know a lord of yours in this\nland, that is a passing true man and a faithful, and he shall have the\nnourishing of your child, and his name is Sir Ector, and he is a lord\nof fair livelihood in many parts in England and Wales. And this lord,\nSir Ector, let him be sent for, for to come and speak with you, and\ndesire him yourself, as he loveth you, that he will put his own child\nto nourishing to another woman, and that his wife nourish yours. And\nwhen the child is born let it be delivered unto me at yonder privy\npostern unchristened. So like as Merlin devised it was done. And when\nSir Ector was come he made affiance to the king for to nourish the\nchild like as the king desired; and there the king granted Sir Ector\ngreat rewards. Then when the lady was delivered, the king commanded two\nknights and two ladies to take the child bound in a cloth of gold, and\nthat ye deliver him to what poor man ye meet at the postern gate of the\ncastle. So the child was delivered unto Merlin, and so he bare it forth\nunto Sir Ector, and made an holy man to christen him, and named him\nArthur: and so Sir Ector\u2019s wife nourished him with her own breast.\nThen within two years king Uther fell sick of a great malady. And in\nthe meanwhile his enemies usurped upon him, and did a great battle upon\nhis men, and slew many of his people. Sir, said Merlin, ye may not lie\nso as ye do, for ye must to the field, though ye ride on an\nhorse-litter; for ye shall never have the better of your enemies but if\nyour person be there, and then shall ye have the victory. So it was\ndone as Merlin had devised, and they carried the king forth in a\nhorse-litter with a great host towards his enemies. And at St. Albans\nthere met with the king a great host of the North. And that day Sir\nUlfius and Sir Brastias did great deeds of arms, and king Uther\u2019s men\novercame the Northern battle, and slew many people, and put the remnant\nto flight. And then the king returned unto London, and made great joy\nof his victory. And then he fell passing sore sick, so that three days\nand three nights he was speechless; wherefore all the barons made great\nsorrow, and asked Merlin what counsel were best. There is none other\nremedy, said Merlin, but God will have his will. But look ye all barons\nbe before king Uther to-morn, and God and I shall make him to speak. So\non the morn all the barons with Merlin came tofore the king: then\nMerlin said aloud unto king Uther, Sir, shall your son Arthur be king\nafter your days, of this realm, with all the appurtenance? Then Uther\nPendragon turned him and said in hearing of them all, I give him God\u2019s\nblessing and mine, and bid him pray for my soul, and righteously and\nworshipfully that he claim the crown upon forfeiture of my blessing.\nAnd therewith he yielded up the ghost. And then was he interred as\nlonged to a king. Wherefore the queen, fair Igraine, made great sorrow\nand all the barons. Then stood the realm in great jeopardy long while,\nfor every lord that was mighty of men made him strong, and many wend to\nhave been king. Then Merlin went to the archbishop of Canterbury, and\ncounselled him for to send for all the lords of the realm, and all the\ngentlemen of arms, that they should to London come by Christmas upon\npain of cursing: and for this cause\u2014that Jesus, that was born on that\nnight, that he would of his great mercy shew some miracle, as he was\ncome to be king of mankind, for to shew some miracle who should be\nrightwise king of this realm. So the archbishop by the advice of Merlin\nsent for all the lords and gentlemen of arms, that they should come by\nChristmas even unto London. And many of them made them clean of their\nlife, that their prayer might be the more acceptable unto God. So in\nthe greatest church of London (whether it were Paul\u2019s or not, the\nFrench book maketh no mention) all the estates were long or day in the\nchurch for to pray. And when matins and the first mass was done, there\nwas seen in the churchyard against the high altar a great stone four\nsquare, like unto a marble stone, and in the midst thereof was like an\nanvil of steel a foot on high, and therein stack a fair sword naked by\nthe point, and letters there were written in gold about the sword that\nsaid thus: Whoso pulleth out this sword of this stone and anvil is\nrightwise king born of all England. Then the people marvelled, and told\nit to the archbishop. I command, said the archbishop, that ye keep you\nwithin your church, and pray unto God still; that no man touch the\nsword till the high mass be all done. So when all masses were done all\nthe lords went to behold the stone and the sword. And when they saw the\nscripture, some assayed\u2014such as would have been king. But none might\nstir the sword nor move it. He is not here, said the archbishop, that\nshall achieve the sword, but doubt not God will make him known. But\nthis is my counsel, said the archbishop, that we let purvey ten\nknights, men of good fame, and they to keep this sword. So it was\nordained, and then there was made a cry, that every man should assay\nthat would, for to win the sword. And upon New Year\u2019s Day the barons\nlet make a justs and a tournament, that all knights that would just or\ntourney there might play: and all this was ordained for to keep the\nlords together and the commons, for the archbishop trusted that God\nwould make him known that should win the sword. So upon New Year\u2019s Day\nwhen the service was done the barons rode to the field, some to just,\nand some to tourney; and so it happed that Sir Ector, that had great\nlivelihood about London, rode unto the justs, and with him rode Sir Kay\nhis son and young Arthur that was his nourished brother, and Sir Kay\nwas made knight at Allhallowmas afore. So as they rode to the\njusts-ward Sir Kay had lost his sword, for he had left it at his\nfather\u2019s lodging, and so he prayed young Arthur to ride for his sword.\nI will well, said Arthur, and rode fast after the sword; and when he\ncame home the lady and all were out to see the justing. Then was Arthur\nwroth, and said to himself, I will ride to the churchyard and take the\nsword with me that sticketh in the stone, for my brother Sir Kay shall\nnot be without a sword this day. So when he came to the churchyard Sir\nArthur alighted, and tied his horse to the stile, and so he went to the\ntent, and found no knights there, for they were at the justing; and so\nhe handled the sword by the handles, and lightly and fiercely pulled it\nout of the stone, and took his horse and rode his way till he came to\nhis brother Sir Kay, and delivered him the sword. And as soon as Sir\nKay saw the sword he wist well it was the sword of the stone, and so he\nrode to his father Sir Ector, and said: Sir, lo here is the sword of\nthe stone; wherefore I must be king of this land. When Sir Ector beheld\nthe sword he returned again and came to the church, and there they\nalighted all three and went into the church, and anon he made Sir Kay\nto swear upon a book how he came to that sword. Sir, said Sir Kay, by\nmy brother Arthur, for he brought it to me. How gat ye this sword? said\nSir Ector to Arthur. Sir, I will tell you: when I came home for my\nbrother\u2019s sword, I found nobody at home to deliver me his sword, and so\nI thought my brother Sir Kay should not be swordless, and so I came\nhither eagerly and pulled it out of the stone without any pain. Found\nye any knights about this sword? said Sir Ector. Nay, said Arthur. Now,\nsaid Sir Ector to Arthur, I understand ye must be king of this land.\nWherefore I, said Arthur, and for what cause? Sir, said Ector, for God\nwill have it so: for there should never man have drawn out this sword\nbut he that shall be rightwise king of this land. Now let me see\nwhether ye can put the sword there as it was, and pull it out again.\nThat is no mastery, said Arthur: and so he put it into the stone.\nTherewith Sir Ector assayed to pull out the sword and failed.\n_How king Arthur pulled out the sword divers times._\nNow assay, said Sir Ector to Sir Kay. And anon he pulled at the sword\nwith all his might, but it would not be. Now shall ye assay, said Sir\nEctor to Arthur. I will well, said Arthur, and pulled it out easily.\nAnd therewithal Sir Ector kneeled down to the earth, and Sir Kay. Alas,\nsaid Arthur, mine own dear father and brother, why kneel ye to me. Nay,\nnay, my lord Arthur, it is not so: I was never your father nor of your\nblood, but I wote well ye are of an higher blood than I wend ye were.\nAnd then Sir Ector told him all, how he was betaken him for to nourish\nhim, and by whose commandment, and by Merlin\u2019s deliverance. Then Arthur\nmade great dole when he understood that Sir Ector was not his father.\nSir, said Ector unto Arthur, will ye be my good and gracious lord when\nye are king? Else were I to blame, said Arthur, for ye are the man in\nthe world that I am most beholding to, and my good lady and mother your\nwife, that as well as her own hath fostered me and kept. And if ever it\nbe God\u2019s will that I be king, as ye say, ye shall desire of me what I\nmay do, and I shall not fail you: God forbid I should fail you. Sir,\nsaid Sir Ector, I will ask no more of you but that you will make my\nson, your foster-brother Sir Kay, seneschal of all your lands. That\nshall be done, said Arthur, and more by the faith of my body, that\nnever man shall have that office but he while he and I live.\nTherewithal they went unto the archbishop, and told him how the sword\nwas achieved, and by whom. And on Twelfth Day all the barons came\nthither, and to assay to take the sword who that would assay. But there\nafore them all there might none take it out but Arthur, wherefore there\nwere many lords wroth, and said it was great shame unto them all and\nthe realm, to be over governed with a boy of no high blood born. And so\nthey fell out at that time that it was put off till Candlemas, and then\nall the barons should meet there again. But always the ten knights were\nordained to watch the sword day and night, and so they set a pavilion\nover the stone and the sword, and five always watched. So at Candlemas\nmany more great lords came thither for to have won the sword, but there\nmight none prevail. And right as Arthur did at Christmas he did at\nCandlemas, and pulled out the sword easily, whereof the barons were\nsore aggrieved, and put it off in delay till the high feast of Easter.\nAnd as Arthur sped afore, so did he at Easter: yet there were some of\nthe great lords had indignation that Arthur should be their king, and\nput it off in a delay till the feast of Pentecost. Then the archbishop\nof Canterbury by Merlin\u2019s providence let purvey then of the best\nknights that they might get, and such knights as king Uther Pendragon\nloved best and most trusted in his days, and such knights were put\nabout Arthur, as Sir Baudwin of Britain, Sir Kay, Sir Ulfius, Sir\nBrastias. All these, with many other, were always about Arthur, day and\nnight, till the feast of Pentecost.\n_How King Arthur was crowned, and how he made officers._\nAnd at the feast of Pentecost all manner of men assayed to pull at the\nsword that would assay, but none might prevail but Arthur; and he\npulled it out afore all the lords and commons that were there,\nwherefore all the commons cried at once, We will have Arthur unto our\nking; we will put him no more in delay, for we all see that it is God\u2019s\nwill that he shall be our king, and who that holdeth against it we will\nslay him. And therewithal they kneeled down all at once, both rich and\npoor, and cried Arthur mercy, because they had delayed him so long. And\nArthur forgave them, and took the sword between both his hands, and\noffered it upon the altar where the archbishop was, and so was he made\nknight of the best man that was there. And so anon was the coronation\nmade, and there was he sworn unto his lords and the commons for to be a\ntrue king, to stand with true justice from thenceforth the days of this\nlife. Also then he made all lords that held of the crown to come in,\nand to do service as they ought to do. And many complaints were made\nunto Sir Arthur of great wrongs that were done since the death of king\nUther, of many lands that were bereaved lords, knights, ladies, and\ngentlemen. Wherefore king Arthur made the lands to be given again unto\nthem that owned them. When this was done that the king had stablished\nall the countries about London, then he let make Sir Kay seneschal of\nEngland; and Sir Baudwin of Britain was made constable; and Sir Ulfius\nwas made chamberlain; and Sir Brastias was made warden to wait upon the\nnorth from Trent forwards, for it was that time for the most part the\nking\u2019s enemies. But within few years after, Arthur won all the north,\nScotland, and all that were under their obeisance. Also Wales, a part\nof it held against Arthur, but he overcame them all as he did the\nremnant through the noble prowess of himself and his knights of the\nRound Table.\n_How king Arthur held in Wales at a Pentecost a great feast, and what\n kings and lords came to his feast._\nThen the king removed into Wales, and let cry a great feast, that it\nshould be holden at Pentecost, after the incoronation of him at the\ncity of Carlion. Unto the feast came king Lot of Lothian and of Orkney\nwith five hundred knights with him. Also there came to the feast king\nUriens of Gore with four hundred knights with him. Also there came to\nthat feast king Nentres of Garloth with seven hundred knights with him.\nAlso there came to the feast the king of Scotland with six hundred\nknights with him, and he was but a young man. Also there came to the\nfeast a king that was called the king with the hundred knights, but he\nand his men was passing well beseen at all points. Also there came the\nking of Carados with five hundred knights. And king Arthur was glad of\ntheir coming, for he wend that all the kings and knights had come for\ngreat love, and for to have done him worship at his feast, wherefore\nthe king made great joy, and sent the kings and knights great presents.\nBut the kings would none receive, but rebuked the messengers\nshamefully, and said they had no joy to receive no gifts of a beardless\nboy that was come of low blood, and sent him word they would have none\nof his gifts, but that they were come to give him gifts with hard\nswords betwixt the neck and the shoulders: and therefore they came\nthither, so they told to the messengers plainly, for it was great shame\nto all them to see such a boy to have a rule of so noble a realm as\nthis land was. With this answer the messengers departed, and told to\nking Arthur this answer. Wherefore, by the advice of his barons, he\ntook him to a strong tower with five hundred good men with him: and all\nthe kings aforesaid in a manner laid a siege tofore him, but king\nArthur was well victualled. And within fifteen days there came Merlin\namong them into the city of Carlion. Then all the kings were passing\nglad of Merlin, and asked him, For what cause is that boy Arthur made\nyour king? Sirs, said Merlin, I shall tell you the cause. For he is\nking Uther Pendragon\u2019s son, born in wedlock of Igraine, the duke\u2019s wife\nof Tintagil. After the death of the duke thirteen days king Uther\nPendragon wedded fair Igraine. And who saith nay, he shall be king, and\novercome all his enemies; and, or he die, he shall be long king of all\nEngland, and have under his obeisance Wales, Ireland, and Scotland, and\nmore realms than I will now rehearse. Some of the kings had marvel of\nMerlin\u2019s words, and deemed well that it should be as he said: and some\nof them laughed him to scorn, as king Lot: and more other called him a\nwitch. But then were they accorded with Merlin that king Arthur should\ncome out and speak with the kings, and to come safe and go safe, such\nassurance was there made. So Merlin went unto king Arthur and told him\nhow he had done, and bade him fear not, but come out boldly and speak\nwith them, and spare them not, but answer them as their king and\nchieftain, for ye shall overcome them all whether they will or nill.\n_Of the first war that king Arthur had, and how he won the field._\nThen king Arthur came out of his tower, and had under his gown a\njesseraunt of double mail, and there went with him the archbishop of\nCanterbury, and Sir Baudwin of Britain, and Sir Kay, and Sir Brastias:\nthese were the men of most worship that were with him. And when they\nwere met there was no meekness, but stout words on both sides: but\nalways king Arthur answered them, and said that he would make them to\nbow and he lived. Wherefore they departed with wrath, and king Arthur\nbade keep them well, and they bade the king keep him well. So the king\nreturned him to the tower again, and armed him and all his knights.\nWhat will ye do? said Merlin to the kings: ye were better for to stint,\nfor ye shall not here prevail though ye were ten so many. Be we well\nadvised to be afraid of a dream-reader? said king Lot. With that Merlin\nvanished away, and came to king Arthur, and bade him set on them\nfiercely; and in the meanwhile there were three hundred good men of the\nbest that were with the kings that went straight unto king Arthur, and\nthat comforted him greatly. Sir, said Merlin to Arthur, fight not with\nthe sword that ye had by miracle, till that ye see ye go unto the\nworse, then draw it out and do your best. So forthwithal king Arthur\nset upon them in their lodging. And Sir Baudwin, Sir Kay, and Sir\nBrastias slew on the right hand and on the left hand that it was\nmarvellous: and always king Arthur on horseback laid on with a sword,\nand did marvellous deeds of arms, that many of the kings had great joy\nof his deeds and hardiness. Then king Lot brake out on the back side,\nand the king with the hundred knights, and king Carados, and set on\nArthur fiercely behind him. With that Sir Arthur turned with his\nknights and smote behind and before, and ever Sir Arthur was in the\nforemost press till his horse was slain underneath him. And therewith\nking Lot smote down king Arthur. With that his four knights received\nhim, and set him on horseback. Then he drew his sword Excalibur, but it\nwas so bright in his enemies\u2019 eyes, that it gave light like thirty\ntorches. And therewith he put them on back, and slew much people. And\nthen the commons of Carlion arose with clubs and staves, and slew many\nknights; but all the kings held them together with their knights that\nwere left alive, and so fled and departed. And Merlin came unto Arthur,\nand counselled him to follow them no farther.\n_How Merlin counselled king Arthur to send for king Ban and king Bors,\n and of their counsel taken for the war._\nSo after the feast and tourney king Arthur drew him unto London, and so\nby the counsel of Merlin the king let call his barons to council. For\nMerlin had told the king that the six kings that made war upon him\nwould in all haste be awroke on him and on his lands. Wherefore the\nking asked counsel at them all. They could no counsel give, but said\nthey were big enough. Ye say well, said Arthur; I thank you for your\ngood courage; but will ye all that love me speak with Merlin: ye know\nwell that he hath done much for me, and he knoweth many things, and\nwhen he is afore you I would that ye prayed him heartily of his best\nadvice. All the barons said they would pray him and desire him. So\nMerlin was sent for, and fair desired of all the barons to give them\nbest counsel. I shall say you, said Merlin, I warn you all, your\nenemies are passing strong for you, and they are good men of arms as be\non live, and by this time they have gotten to them four kings more, and\na mighty duke; and unless that our king have more chivalry with him\nthan he may make within the bounds of his own realm, and he fight with\nthem in battle he shall be overcome and slain. What were best to do in\nthis cause? said all the barons. I shall tell you, said Merlin, mine\nadvice: There are two brethren beyond the sea, and they be kings both,\nand marvellous good men of their hands; and that one hight king Ban of\nBenwick, and that other hight king Bors of Gaul, that is France. And on\nthese two kings warreth a mighty man of men, the king Claudas, and\nstriveth with them for a castle; and great war is betwixt them: but\nthis Claudas is so mighty of goods, whereof he getteth good knights,\nthat he putteth these two kings the most part to the worse. Wherefore\nthis is my counsel, that our king and sovereign lord send unto the\nkings Ban and Bors by two trusty knights with letters well devised,\nthat if they will come and see king Arthur and his court, and so help\nhim in his wars, that he will be sworn unto them to help them in their\nwars against king Claudas. Now what say ye unto this counsel? said\nMerlin. This is well counselled, said the king and all the barons.\nRight so in all haste there were ordained to go two knights on the\nmessage unto the two kings. So were there made letters in the pleasant\nwise according unto king Arthur\u2019s desire. Ulfius and Brastias were made\nthe messengers, and rode forth well horsed and well armed, and as the\nguise was that time, and so passed the sea and rode toward the city of\nBenwick. And there besides were eight knights who espied them, and at a\nstraight passage they met with Ulfius and Brastias, and would have\ntaken them prisoners. So they prayed them that they might pass, for\nthey were messengers unto king Ban and Bors sent from king Arthur.\nTherefore, said the eight knights, ye shall die, or be prisoners, for\nwe be knights of king Claudas. And therewith two of them dressed their\nspears, and Ulfius and Brastias dressed their spears, and ran together\nwith great might, and Claudas\u2019s knights brake their spears, and theirs\nto-held, and bare the two knights out of their saddles to the earth,\nand so left them lying, and rode their ways. And the other six knights\nrode afore to a passage to meet with them again, and so Ulfius and\nBrastias smote other two down, and so passed on their ways. And at the\nfourth passage there met two for two, and both were laid to the earth:\nso there was none of the eight knights but he was sore hurt or bruised.\nAnd when they came to Benwick it fortuned there were both kings Ban and\nBors. And when it was told the kings that there were come messengers,\nthere were sent to them two knights of worship, the one hight Lionses,\nlord of the country of Payarne, and Sir Phariance a worshipful knight.\nAnon they asked from whence they came, and they said from king Arthur\nking of England: so they took them in their arms, and made great joy\neach of other. But anon as the two kings wist they were messengers of\nArthur\u2019s, there was made no tarrying, but forthwith they spake with the\nknights and welcomed them in the faithfullest wise, and said they were\nmost welcome unto them before all the kings living. And therewith they\nkissed the letters and delivered them; and when Ban and Bors understood\nthe letters, then were they more welcome than they were before. And\nafter the haste of the letters they gave them this answer, that they\nwould fulfil the desire of king Arthur\u2019s writing, and let Ulfius and\nBrastias tarry there as long as they would, they should have such cheer\nas might be made them in those marches. Then Ulfius and Brastias told\nthe king of the adventure at their passages of the eight knights. Ha,\nha, said Ban and Bors, they were my good friends. I would I had wist of\nthem, they should not have escaped so. So Ulfius and Brastias had good\ncheer and great gifts as much as they might bear away, and had their\nanswer by mouth and by writing, that those two kings would come unto\nArthur in all the haste that they might.\nSo the two knights rode on afore, and passed the sea, and came to their\nlord and told him how they had sped, whereof king Arthur was passing\nglad. At what time suppose ye the two kings will be here? Sir, said\nthey, afore Allhallowmas. Then the king let purvey for a great feast,\nand let cry a great justs. And by Allhallowmas the two kings were come\nover the sea with three hundred knights well arrayed both for the peace\nand for the war. And king Arthur met with them ten mile out of London,\nand there was great joy as could be thought or made. And on\nAllhallowmas at the great feast sat in the hall the three kings, and\nSir Kay the seneschal served in the hall, and Sir Lucas the butler,\nthat was duke Corneus\u2019s son, and Sir Griflet that was the son of\nCardol, these three knights had the rule of all the service that served\nthe kings. And anon as they had washed and risen, all knights that\nwould just made them ready. By then they were ready on horseback there\nwere seven hundred knights. And Arthur, Ban, and Bors, with the\narchbishop of Canterbury, and Sir Ector, Kay\u2019s father, they were in a\nplace covered with cloth of gold, like an hall, with ladies and\ngentlewomen, for to behold who did best, and thereon to give judgment.\n_Of a great tourney made by king Arthur and the two kings Ban and Bors,\n and how they went over the Sea._\nAnd king Arthur and the two kings let part the seven hundred knights in\ntwo parties. And there were three hundred knights of the realm of\nBenwick and of Gaul turned on the other side. Then they dressed their\nshields, and began to couch their spears many good knights. So Griflet\nwas the first that met with a knight, one Ladinas, and they met so\neagerly that all men had wonder; and they so fought that their shields\nfell to pieces, and horse and man fell to the earth, and both the\nFrench knight and the English knight lay so long, that all men wend\nthey had been dead. When Lucas the butler saw Griflet so lie, he horsed\nhim again anon, and they two did marvellous deeds of arms with many\nbachelors. Also Sir Kay came out of an embushment with five knights\nwith him, and they six smote other six down. But Sir Kay did that day\nmarvellous deeds of arms, that there was none did so well as he that\nday. Then there came Ladinas and Grastian, two knights of France, and\ndid passing well, that all men praised them. Then came there Sir\nPlacidas, a good knight, and met with Sir Kay and smote him down, horse\nand man, wherefore Sir Griflet was wroth, and met with Sir Placidas so\nhard that horse and man fell to the earth. But when the five knights\nwist that Sir Kay had a fall they were wroth out of wit, and therewith\neach of them five bare down a knight. When king Arthur and the two\nkings saw them begin to wax wroth on both parts, they leapt on small\nhackneys, and let cry that all men should depart unto their lodging.\nAnd so they went home and unarmed them, and so to even-song and supper.\nAnd after the three kings went into a garden, and gave the prize unto\nSir Kay, and to Lucas the butler, and unto Sir Griflet. And then they\nwent unto council, and with them Gwenbaus, the brother unto Sir Ban and\nBors, a wise clerk, and thither went Ulfius, and Brastias, and Merlin.\nAnd after they had been in council they went unto bed. And on the morn\nthey heard mass, and to dinner, and so to their council, and made many\narguments what were best to do. At the last they were concluded, that\nMerlin should go with a token of king Ban, (and that was a ring,) unto\nhis men and king Bors\u2019s: and Gracian and Placidas should go again and\nkeep their castles and their countries, as king Ban of Benwick and king\nBors of Gaul had ordained them; and so they passed the sea and came to\nBenwick. And when the people saw king Ban\u2019s ring, and Gracian and\nPlacidas, they were glad, and asked how the kings fared, and made great\njoy of their welfare and according. And according unto the sovereign\nlords\u2019 desire, the men of war made them ready in all haste possible, so\nthat they were fifteen thousand on horse and foot, and they had great\nplenty of victual with them by Merlin\u2019s provision. But Gracian and\nPlacidas were left to furnish and garnish the castles for dread of king\nClaudas. Right so Merlin passed the sea, well victualled both by water\nand by land. And when he came to the sea he sent home the footmen\nagain, and took no more with him but ten thousand men on horseback, the\nmost part men of arms, and so shipped and passed the sea into England,\nand landed at Dover: and through the wit of Merlin he led the host\nnorthward, the priviest way that could be thought, unto the forest of\nBedegraine, and there in a valley he lodged them secretly.\nThen rode Merlin unto king Arthur and the two kings and told them how\nhe had sped, whereof they had great marvel, that man on earth might\nspeed so soon, and go and come. So Merlin told them ten thousand were\nin the forest of Bedegraine, well armed at all points. Then was there\nno more to say, but to horseback went all the host as Arthur had afore\npurveyed. So with twenty thousand he passed by night and day. But there\nwas made such an ordinance afore by Merlin, that there should no man of\nwar ride nor go in no country on this side Trent water, but if he had a\ntoken from king Arthur, where through the king\u2019s enemies durst not\nride, as they did tofore, to espy.\n_How eleven kings gathered a great host against king Arthur._\nAnd so within a little space the three kings came unto the castle of\nBedegraine, and found there a passing fair fellowship and well beseen,\nwhereof they had great joy, and victual they wanted none.\nThis was the cause of the northern host: that they were reared for the\ndespite and rebuke that the six kings had at Carlion. And those six\nkings by their means gat unto them five other kings, and thus they\nbegan to gather their people, and how they sware that for weal nor woe\nthey should not leave each other till they had destroyed Arthur. And\nthen they made an oath. The first that began the oath was the duke of\nCambenet, that he would bring with him five thousand men of arms, the\nwhich were ready on horseback. Then sware king Brandegoris of\nStranggore that he would bring five thousand men of arms on horseback.\nThen sware king Clariance of Northumberland that he would bring three\nthousand men of arms. Then sware the king of the hundred knights, that\nwas a passing good man and a young, that he would bring four thousand\nmen on horseback. Then there swore king Lot, a passing good knight and\nSir Gawaine\u2019s father, that he would bring five thousand men of arms on\nhorseback. Also there swore king Urience, that was Sir Uwaine\u2019s father,\nof the land of Gore, and he would bring six thousand men of arms on\nhorseback. Also there swore king Idres of Cornwall, that he would bring\nfive thousand men of arms on horseback. Also there swore king Cradelmas\nto bring five thousand men of arms on horseback. Also there swore king\nAgwisance of Ireland, to bring five thousand men of arms on horseback.\nAlso there swore king Nentres to bring five thousand men of arms on\nhorseback. Also there swore king Carados to bring five thousand men of\narms on horseback. So their whole host was of clean men of arms on\nhorseback fifty thousand; and afoot ten thousand of good mens\u2019 bodies.\nThen were they soon ready and mounted upon horse, and sent forth their\nfore-riders: for these eleven kings in their way laid siege unto the\ncastle of Bedegraine; and so they departed and drew toward Arthur, and\nleft few to abide at the siege, for the castle of Bedegraine was holden\nof king Arthur, and the men that were therein were Arthur\u2019s.\n_Of a dream of the king with the hundred knights._\nSo by Merlin\u2019s advice there were sent fore-riders to skim the country,\nand they met with the fore-riders of the north, and made them to tell\nwhich way the host came, and then they told it to Arthur, and by king\nBan and Bors\u2019s counsel they let burn and destroy all the country afore\nthem where they should ride.\nThe king with the hundred knights dreamed a wonder dream two nights\nafore the battle, that there blew a great wind, and blew down their\ncastles and their towns, and after that came a water and bare it all\naway. All that heard of the dream said it was a token of great battle.\nThen, by counsel of Merlin, when they wist which way the eleven kings\nwould ride and lodge that night, at midnight they set upon them, as\nthey were in their pavilions. But the scout-watch by their host cried,\nLords! at arms! for here be your enemies at your hand!\n_How the eleven kings with their host fought against Arthur and his\n host, and many great feats of the war._\nThen king Arthur and king Ban and king Bors, with their good and trusty\nknights, set on them so fiercely that they made them overthrow their\npavilions on their heads; but the eleven kings by manly prowess of arms\ntook a fair field. But there was slain that morrow tide ten thousand\ngood men\u2019s bodies. And so they had afore them a strong passage, yet\nwere they fifty thousand of hardy men. Then it drew toward day. Now\nshall ye do by mine advice, said Merlin unto the three kings: I would\nthat king Ban and king Bors with their fellowship of ten thousand men\nwere put in a wood here beside in an embushment, and keep them privy,\nand that they be laid or the light of the day come, and that they stir\nnor till ye and your knights have fought with them long: and when it is\ndaylight dress your battle even afore them and the passage, that they\nmay see all your host, for then they will be the more hardy when they\nsee you but about twenty thousand, and be the gladder to suffer you and\nyour host to come over the passage. All the three kings and the whole\nbarons said that Merlin said passingly well, and it was done anon as\nMerlin had devised. So on the morn, when either host saw other, the\nhost of the north was well comforted. Then to Ulfius and Brastias were\ndelivered three thousand men of arms, and they set on them fiercely in\nthe passage, and slew on the right hand and on the left hand, that it\nwas wonder to tell. When that the eleven knights saw that there was so\nfew a fellowship did such deeds of arms, they were ashamed, and set on\nthem again fiercely, and there was Sir Ulfius\u2019s horse slain under him,\nbut he did marvellously well on foot. But the duke Eustace of Cambenet,\nand king Clariance of Northumberland, were alway grievous on Sir\nUlfius. When Brastias saw his fellow fared so withal, he smote the duke\nwith a spear, that horse and man fell down. That saw king Clariance,\nand returned to Brastias, and either smote other so that horse and man\nwent to the earth, and so they lay long astonied, and their horses\u2019\nknees brast to the hard bone. Then came Sir Kay the seneschal with six\nfellows with him, and did passing well. With that came the eleven\nkings, and there was Griflet put to the earth, horse and man, and Lucas\nthe butler, horse and man, by king Brandegoris and king Idres and king\nAgwisance. Then waxed the meddle passing hard on both parties. When Sir\nKay saw Griflet on foot he rode on king Nentres and smote him down, and\nled his horse to Sir Griflet and horsed him again. Also Sir Kay with\nthe same spear smote down king Lot, and hurt him passing sore. That saw\nthe king with the hundred knights, and ran unto Sir Kay and smote him\ndown and took his horse, and gave him to king Lot, whereof he said\ngramercy. When Sir Griflet saw Sir Kay and Lucas the butler on foot, he\ntook a sharp spear great and square and rode to Pinel, a good man of\narms, and smote horse and man down, and then he took his horse and gave\nhim unto Sir Kay. When king Lot saw king Nentres on foot he ran unto\nMelot de la Roche and smote him down horse and man, and gave king\nNentres the horse and horsed him again. Also the king of the hundred\nknights saw king Idres on foot; then he ran unto Gwimiart de Bloi, and\nsmote him down horse and man, and gave king Idres the horse and horsed\nhim again; and king Lot smote down Clariance de la Forest Savage, and\ngave the horse unto duke Eustace. And so when they had horsed the kings\nagain they drew them all eleven kings together, and said they would be\nrevenged of the damage they had taken that day. The meanwhile came in\nSir Ector with an eager countenance, and found Ulfius and Brastias on\nfoot in great peril of death, that were foul bruised under the horse\nfeet. Then king Arthur as a lion ran unto king Cradelment of North\nWales, and smote him through the left side, that the horse and the king\nfell down; and then he took the horse by the rein and led him unto\nUlfius, and said, Have this horse, mine old friend, for great need hast\nthou of horse. Gramercy, said Ulfius. Then Sir Arthur did so\nmarvellously in arms that all men had wonder. When the king with the\nhundred knights saw king Cradelment on foot he ran unto Sir Ector, that\nwas well horsed, Sir Kay\u2019s father, and smote horse and man down, and\ngave the horse unto the king and horsed him again. And when king Arthur\nsaw the king ride on Sir Ector\u2019s horse he was wroth, and with his sword\nhe smote the king on the helm, that a quarter of the helm and shield\nfell down, and the sword carved down unto the horse\u2019s neck, and so the\nking and the horse fell down to the ground. Then Sir Kay came to Sir\nMorganore, seneschal with the king of the hundred knights, and smote\nhim down horse and man, and led the horse unto his father Sir Ector:\nthen Sir Ector ran unto a knight, hight Lardans, and smote horse and\nman down, and led the horse unto Sir Brastias that great need had of an\nhorse, and was greatly bruised. When Brastias beheld Lucas the butler,\nthat lay like a dead man under the horse feet, and ever Sir Griflet did\nmarvellously for to rescue him, and there were always fourteen knights\non Sir Lucas, then Brastias smote one of them on the helm that it went\nto the teeth, and he rode to another and smote him that the arm flew\ninto the field. Then he went to the third, and smote him on the\nshoulder that shoulder and arm flew in the field. And when Griflet saw\nrescues he smote a knight on the temples, that head and helm went to\nthe earth, and Griflet took the horse of that knight and led him unto\nSir Lucas, and bad him mount upon the horse and revenge his hurts. For\nBrastias had slain a knight tofore, and horsed Griflet.\n_Yet of the same battle._\nThen Lucas saw king Agwisance, that late had slain Moris de la Roche,\nand Lucas ran to him with a short spear that was great, that he gave\nhim such a fall that the horse fell down to the earth. Also Lucas found\nthere on foot Bloias de la Flandres and Sir Gwinas, two hardy knights,\nand in that woodness that Lucas was in he slew two bachelors, and\nhorsed them again. Then waxed the battle passing hard on both parties,\nbut Arthur was glad that his knights were horsed again, and then they\nfought together that the noise and sound rang by the water and the\nwood. Wherefore king Ban and king Bors made them ready and dressed\ntheir shields and harness, and they were so courageous that many\nknights shook and trembled for eagerness. All this while Lucas, and\nGwinas, and Briant, and Bellias of Flanders, held strong meddle against\nsix kings, that was king Lot, king Nentres, king Brandegoris, king\nIdres, king Uriens, and king Agwisance. So with the help of Sir Kay and\nof Sir Griflet they held these six kings hard, that unneth they had any\npower to defend them. But when Sir Arthur saw the battle would not be\nended by no manner he fared wood as a lion, and steered his horse here\nand there, on the right hand and on the left hand, that he stinted not\ntill he had slain twenty knights. Also he wounded king Lot sore on the\nshoulder, and made him to leave that ground, for Sir Kay and Griflet\ndid with king Arthur there great deeds of arms. Then Ulfius, Brastias,\nand Sir Ector, encountered against the duke Eustace, and king\nCradelment, and king Cradelmas, and king Clariance of Northumberland,\nand king Carados, and against the king with the hundred knights. So\nthese knights encountered with these kings that they made them to avoid\nthe ground. Then king Lot made great dole for his damages and his\nfellows, and said unto the eleven kings. But if ye will do as I devise\nwe shall be slain and destroyed: let me have the king with the hundred\nknights, and king Agwisance, and king Idres, and the duke of Cambenet,\nand we five kings will have fifteen thousand men of arms with us, and\nwe will go apart while ye six kings hold the meddle with twelve\nthousand, and when we see that ye have foughten with them long then\nwill we come on fiercely, and else shall we never match them, said king\nLot, but by this mean. So they departed as they here devised, and six\nkings made their party strong against Arthur, and made great war long.\nIn the meanwhile brake the embushment of king Ban and Bors, and Lionses\nand Phariance had the advant guard, and they two knights met with king\nIdres and his fellowship, and there began a great meddle of breaking of\nspears and smiting of swords with slaying of men and horses, and king\nIdres was near at discomfiture.\nThat saw Agwisance the king, and put Lionses and Phariance in point of\ndeath: for the duke of Cambenet came on withal with a great fellowship,\nso these two knights were in great danger of their lives that they were\nfain to return, but always they rescued themselves and their fellowship\nmarvellously. When king Bors saw those knights put aback it grieved him\nsore; then he came on so fast that his fellowship seemed as black as\nInde. When king Lot had espied king Bors he knew him well; then he\nsaid, O defend us from death and horrible maims, for I see well we be\nin great peril of death; for I see yonder a king, one of the most\nworshipfulest men, and one of the best knights of the world, is\ninclined unto his fellowship. What is he? said the king with the\nhundred knights. It is, said king Lot, king Bors of Gaul; I marvel how\nthey came into this country without witting of us all. It was by\nMerlin\u2019s advice, said the knight. As for him, said king Carados, I will\nencounter with king Bors, if ye will rescue me when need is. Go on,\nsaid they all, we will do all that we may. Then king Carados and his\nhost rode on a soft pace till that they came as nigh king Bors as a bow\ndraught: then either battle let their horses run as fast as they might.\nAnd Bleoberis that was god-son unto king Bors he bare his chief\nstandard, that was a passing good knight. Now shall we see, said king\nBors, how these northern Britons can bear their arms. And king Bors\nencountered with a knight, and smote him throughout with a spear that\nhe fell dead unto the earth, and after drew his sword and did\nmarvellous deeds of arms, that all parties had great wonder thereof;\nand his knights failed not but did their part, and king Carados was\nsmitten to the earth. With that came the king with the hundred knights\nand rescued king Carados mightily by force of arms, for he was a\npassing good knight of a king, and but a young man.\n_Yet more of the same battle._\nBy then came into field king Ban as fierce as a lion, with bands of\ngreen and thereupon gold. Ha, ha, said king Lot, we must be\ndiscomfited, for yonder I see the most valiant knight of the world, and\nthe man of the most renown: for such two brethren as is king Ban and\nking Bors are not living, wherefore we must needs void or die; and but\nif we avoid manly and wisely there is but death. When king Ban came\ninto the battle, he came in so fiercely that the strokes resounded\nagain from the wood and the water; wherefore king Lot wept for pity and\ndole that he saw so many good knights take their end. But through the\ngreat force of king Ban they made both the northern battles that were\nparted to hurtle together for great dread, and the three kings with\ntheir knights slew on ever, that it was pity to behold that multitude\nof the people that fled. But king Lot and the king of the hundred\nknights and king Morganore gathered the people together passing\nknightly, and did great prowess of arms, and held the battle all that\nday like hard. When the king of the hundred knights beheld the great\ndamage that king Ban did, he thrust unto him with his horse, and smote\nhim on high upon the helm a great stroke, and astonied him sore. Then\nking Ban was wroth with him, and followed on him fiercely: the other\nsaw that, and cast up his shield and spurred his horse forward, but the\nstroke of king Ban fell down and carved a cantel of the shield, and the\nsword slid down by the hauberk behind his back, and cut through the\ntrapping of steel, and the horse even in two pieces, that the sword\nfelt the earth. Then the king of the hundred knights voided the horse\nlightly, and with his sword he broched the horse of king Ban through\nand through. With that king Ban voided lightly from the dead horse, and\nthen king Ban smote at the other so eagerly and smote him on the helm,\nthat he fell to the earth. Also in that ire he felled king Morganore,\nand there was great slaughter of good knights and much people. By then\ncame into the press king Arthur, and found king Ban standing among dead\nmen and dead horses, fighting on foot as a wood lion, that there came\nnone nigh him as far as he might reach with his sword but that he\ncaught a grievous buffet; whereof king Arthur had great pity. And\nArthur was so bloody that by his shield there might no man know him,\nfor all was blood and brains on his sword. And as Arthur looked by him\nhe saw a knight that was passing well horsed, and therewith Sir Arthur\nran to him and smote him on the helm that his sword went unto his\nteeth, and the knight sank down to the earth dead, and anon Arthur took\nthe horse by the rein and led him unto king Ban, and said, Fair brother\nhave this horse, for ye have great need thereof, and me repenteth sore\nof your great damage. It shall be soon revenged, said king Ban, for I\ntrust mine use is not such but some of them may sore repent this. I\nwill well, said Arthur, for I see your deeds full actual; nevertheless,\nI might not come at you at that time. But when king Ban was mounted on\nhorseback, then there began new battle the which was sore and hard, and\npassing great slaughter. And so through great force king Arthur, and\nking Ban, and king Bors made their knights a little to withdraw them.\nBut always the eleven kings with their chivalry never turned back, and\nso withdrew them to a little wood, and so over a little river, and\nthere they rested them, for on the night they might have no rest in the\nfield. And then the eleven kings and knights put them on a heap all\ntogether, as men adread and out of all comfort. But there was no man\nmight pass them, they held them so hard together, both behind and\nbefore, that king Arthur had marvel of their deeds of arms, and was\npassing wroth. Ah, Sir Arthur, said king Ban and king Bors, blame them\nnot, for they do as good men ought to do. For by my faith, said king\nBan, they are the best fighting men and knights of most prowess that\never I saw or heard speak of, and those eleven kings are men of great\nworship, and if they were belonging unto you there were no king under\nthe heaven had such eleven knights, and of such worship. I may not love\nthem, said Arthur, they would destroy me. That wot we well, said king\nBan and king Bors, for they are your mortal enemies, and that hath been\nproved aforehand, and this day they have done their part, and that is\ngreat pity of their wilfulness.\nThen all the eleven kings drew them together, and then said king Lot:\nLords, ye must other ways than ye do, or else the great loss is behind:\nye may see what people we have lost, and what good men we lose, because\nwe wait always upon these footmen, and ever in saving of one of the\nfootmen we lose ten horsemen for him; therefore this is mine advice,\nlet us put our footmen from us, for it is near night, for the noble\nArthur will not tarry on the footmen, for they may save themselves, the\nwood is near hand. And when we horsemen be together, look every each of\nyou kings let make such ordinance that none break upon pain of death.\nAnd who that seeth any man dress him to flee, lightly that he be slain,\nfor it is better that we slay a coward than through a coward all we to\nbe slain. How say ye? said king Lot, answer me, all ye kings. It is\nwell said, quoth king Nentres; so said the king of the hundred knights;\nthe same said the king Carados, and king Uriens; so did king Idres, and\nking Brandegoris; and so did king Cradelmas, and the duke of Cambenet;\nthe same said king Clariance, and king Agwisance;\u2014and sware they would\nnever fail other, neither for life nor for death. And whoso that fled,\nbut did as they did, should be slain. Then they amended their harness,\nand righted their shields, and took new spears and set them on their\nthighs, and stood still as it had been a plump of wood.\n_Yet more of the said battle, and how it was ended by Merlin._\nWhen Sir Arthur and King Ban and Bors beheld them and all their\nknights, they praised them much for their noble cheer of chivalry, for\nthe hardiest fighters that ever they heard or saw. With that there\ndressed them a forty noble knights, and said unto the three kings they\nwould break their battle: these were their names: Lionses, Phariance,\nUlfius, Brastias, Ector, Kay, Lucas the butler, Griflet la Fise de\nDieu, Mariet de la Roche, Guynas de Bloy, Briant de la Forest Savage,\nBellaus, Morians of the Castle of Maidens, Flannedrius of the Castle of\nLadies, Annecians that was king Bors\u2019s godson, a noble knight, Ladinas\nde la Rouse, Emerause, Caulas, and Graciens le Castlein, one Bloise de\nla Case, and Sir Colgrevaunce de Gorre. All these knights rode on afore\nwith spears on their thighs, and spurred their horses mightily as the\nhorses might run. And the eleven kings with part of their knights\nrushed with their horses as fast as they might with their spears, and\nthere they did on both parties marvellous deeds of arms. So came into\nthe thick of the press Arthur, Ban, and Bors, and slew down right on\nboth hands, that their horses went in blood up to the fetlocks. But\never the eleven kings and their host were ever in the visage of Arthur.\nWherefore Ban and Bors had great marvel, considering the great\nslaughter that there was, but at the last they were driven aback over a\nlittle river. With that came Merlin on a great black horse, and said\nunto Arthur: Thou hast never done: hast thou not done enough? of\nthree-score thousand this day hast thou left on live but fifteen\nthousand, and it is time to say Ho! For God is wroth with thee that\nthou wilt never have done, for yonder eleven kings at this time will\nnot be overthrown, but and thou tarry on them any longer thy fortune\nwill turn and they shall increase. And therefore withdraw you unto your\nlodging, and rest you as soon as ye may, and reward your good knights\nwith gold and with silver, for they have well deserved it; there may no\nriches be too dear for them, for of so few men as ye have there were\nnever men did more of prowess than they have done to day, for ye have\nmatched this day with the best fighters of the world. That is truth,\nsaid king Ban and Bors. Also said Merlin, withdraw you where ye list,\nfor this three year I dare undertake they shall not dare you; and by\nthen ye shall hear new tidings. And then Merlin said unto Arthur: These\neleven kings have more on hand than they are ware of, for the Saracens\nare landed in their countries, more than forty thousand that burn and\nslay, and have laid siege at the castle Wandesborow, and made great\ndestruction; therefore dread you not this three year. Also Sir, all the\ngoods that be gotten at this battle let it be searched: and when ye\nhave it in your hands let it be given freely unto these two kings, Ban\nand Bors, that they may reward their knights withal; and that shall\ncause strangers to be of better will to do you service at need. Also ye\nbe able to reward your own knights of your own goods whensoever it\nliketh you. It is well said, quoth Arthur, and as thou hast devised so\nshall it be done. When it was delivered to Ban and Bors, they gave the\ngoods as freely to their knights as it was given them.\nThen Merlin took his leave of Arthur and of the two kings, for to go\nand see his master Bleise that dwelt in Northumberland, and so he\ndeparted and came to his master, that was passing glad of his coming.\nAnd there he told how Arthur and the two kings had sped at the great\nbattle, and how it was ended, and told the names of every king and\nknight of worship that was there. And so Bleise wrote the battle, word\nby word, as Merlin told him, how it began, and by whom, and in likewise\nhow it was ended, and who had the worse. All the battles that were done\nin Arthur\u2019s days Merlin did his master Bleise do write. Also, he did do\nwrite all the battles that every worthy knight did of Arthur\u2019s court.\nAfter this Merlin departed from his master and came to king Arthur,\nthat was in the castle of Bedegraine, that was one of the castles that\nstood in the forest of Sherwood. And Merlin was so disguised that king\nArthur knew him not, for he was all befurred in black sheepskins, and a\ngreat pair of boots, and a bow and arrows, in a russet gown, and\nbrought wild geese in his hand, and it was on the morn after Candlemas\nDay, but king Arthur knew him not. Sir, said Merlin unto the king, will\nye give me a gift? Wherefore said king Arthur should I give thee a\ngift, churl? Sir, said Merlin, ye were better to give me a gift that is\nnot in your hand, than to lose great riches; for here, in the same\nplace where the great battle was, is great treasure hid in the earth.\nWho told thee so, churl? said Arthur. Merlin told me so, said he. Then\nUlfius and Brastias knew him well enough, and smiled. Sir, said these\ntwo knights, it is Merlin that so speaketh unto you. Then king Arthur\nwas greatly abashed, and had marvel of Merlin, and so had king Ban and\nking Bors, and so they had great disport at him.\nSo, in the mean while, there came a damsel which was an earl\u2019s\ndaughter, and his name was Sanam, and her name was Lionors, a passing\nfair damsel, and so she came thither for to do homage, as other lords\ndid after the great battle. And king Arthur set his love greatly upon\nher, and so did she upon him, and she bare a child and his name was\nBorre, that was after a good knight, and of the Table Round. Then there\ncame word that the king Rience of North Wales made great war upon king\nLeodegrance of Cameliard, for the which thing Arthur was wroth, for he\nloved him well and hated king Rience, for he was always against him. So\nby ordinance of the three kings that was sent home to Benwick, all they\nwould depart for dread of king Claudas; Phariance, and Antemes, and\nGratian, and Lionses of Payarne, with the leaders of those that should\nkeep the kings\u2019 lands.\n_How king Arthur, king Ban, and king Bors rescued king Leodegrance, and\n other incidents._\nAnd then king Arthur and king Ban and king Bors departed with their\nfellowship, a twenty thousand, and came within six days into the\ncountry of Cameliard, and there rescued king Leodegrance and slew there\nmuch people of king Rience unto the number of ten thousand men, and put\nhim to flight. And then had these three kings great cheer of king\nLeodegrance that thanked them of their great goodness, that they would\nrevenge him of his enemies. And there had Arthur the first sight of\nGuenever, the king\u2019s daughter of Cameliard, and ever after he loved\nher. After they were wedded, as it telleth in the book. So, briefly to\nmake an end, they took their leave to go into their own countries, for\nking Claudas did great destruction on their lands. Then said Arthur, I\nwill go with you. Nay, said the kings, ye shall not at this time, for\nye have much to do yet in these lands, therefore we will depart, and\nwith the great goods that we have gotten in these lands by your gifts,\nwe shall wage good knights, and withstand the king Claudas\u2019s malice,\nfor, by the grace of God, and we have need we will send to you for your\nsuccour; and if ye have need, send for us, and we will not tarry, by\nthe faith of our bodies. It shall not, said Merlin, need that these two\nkings come again in the way of war: but I know well king Arthur may not\nbe long from you, for within a year or two ye shall have great need,\nand then shall he revenge you on your enemies, as ye have done on his.\nFor these eleven kings shall die all in a day, by the great might and\nprowess of arms of two valiant knights (as it telleth after) their\nnames being Balin le Savage, and Balan his brother, which be marvellous\ngood knights as be any living.\nNow turn we to the eleven kings, that returned unto a city that hight\nSorhaute, the which city was within king Uriens, and there they\nrefreshed them as well as they might, and made leeches search their\nwounds, and sorrowed greatly for the death of their people. With that\nthere came a messager and told how there was come into their lands\npeople that were lawless as well as Saracens a forty thousand, and have\nburnt and slain all the people that they may come by without mercy and\nhave laid siege on the castle of Wandesborow. Alas! said the eleven\nkings, here is sorrow on sorrow, and if we had not warred against\nArthur as we had done, he would soon revenge us: as for king\nLeodegrance, he loveth king Arthur better than us, and as for king\nRience he hath enough to do with king Leodegrance, for he hath laid\nsiege unto him. So they consented together to keep all the marches of\nCornwall, of Wales, and of the North. So first they put king Idres in\nthe city of Nauntes in Britain with four thousand men of arms, to watch\nboth the water and the land. Also they put in the city of Windesan king\nNentres of Garlot with four thousand knights, to watch both on water\nand on land. Also they had of other men of war more than eight\nthousand, for to fortify all the fortresses in the marches of Cornwall.\nAlso they put more knights in all the marches of Wales and Scotland\nwith many good men of arms. And so they kept them together the space of\nthree years, and ever allied them with mighty kings, and dukes, and\nlords. And to them fell king Rience of North Wales, the which was a\nmighty man of men, and Nero that was a mighty man of men. And all this\nwhile they furnished them and garnished them of good men of arms and\nvictual, and of all manner of habiliment that pretendeth to the war, to\navenge them for the battle of Bedegraine, as it telleth in the book of\nadventures following.\n_How king Arthur rode to Carlion, and of his dream, and how he saw the\n questing beast._\nThen after the departing of king Ban and of king Bors king Arthur rode\nunto Carlion. And thither came to him Lot\u2019s wife of Orkney, in manner\nof a messenger, but she was sent thither to espy the court of king\nArthur; and she came richly beseen with her four sons, Gawaine,\nGaheris, Agravaine, and Gareth, with many other knights and ladies, and\nshe was a passing fair lady, wherefore the king cast great love unto\nher, and so was Mordred born, and she was his sister, on the mother\nside Igraine. So there she rested her a month, and at the last\ndeparted. Then the king dreamed a marvellous dream whereof he was sore\nadread. But all this time king Arthur knew not that king Lot\u2019s wife was\nhis sister. Thus was the dream of Arthur. Him thought that there was\ncome into this land griffons and serpents, and him thought they burnt\nand slew all the people in the land, and then him thought he fought\nwith them, and they did him passing great harm and wounded him full\nsore, but at the last he slew them. When the king awaked he was passing\nheavy of his dream, and so to put it out of thoughts he made him ready\nwith many knights to ride on hunting. As soon as he was in the forest\nthe king saw a great hart afore him. This hart will I chase, said king\nArthur, and so he spurred the horse and rode after long, and so by fine\nforce oft he was like to have smitten the hart, till the king had\nchased the hart so long that his horse had lost his breath, and fell\ndown dead. Then a yeoman fetched the king another horse. So the king\nsaw the hart embushed and his horse dead; he sat him down by a\nfountain, and there he fell in great thoughts; and as he sat so him\nthought he heard a noise of hounds, to the sum of thirty. And with that\nthe king saw coming toward him the strangest beast that ever he saw or\nheard of; so the beast went to the well and drank, and the noise was in\nthe beast\u2019s belly like unto the questing of thirty couple hounds; but\nall the while the beast drank there was no noise in the beast\u2019s belly,\nand therewith the beast departed with a great noise, whereof the king\nhad great marvel. And so he was in great thought, and therewith he fell\non sleep. Right so there came a knight afoot unto Arthur, and said,\nKnight, full of thought and sleepy, tell me if thou sawest a strange\nbeast pass this way. Such one saw I, said king Arthur, that is past two\nmiles: what would you with the beast? said Arthur. Sir, I have followed\nthat beast long time, and have killed my horse; so would I had another\nto follow my quest. Right so came one with the king\u2019s horse, and when\nthe knight saw the horse he prayed the king to give him the horse, For\nI have followed this quest this twelvemonth, and either I shall achieve\nhim or bleed of the best blood of my body. Pellinore that time king\nfollowed the questing beast, and after his death Sir Palomides followed\nit.\n_How king Pellinore took Arthur\u2019s horse and followed the questing\n beast, and how Merlin met with Arthur._\nSir knight, said the king, leave that quest and suffer me to have it,\nand I will follow it another twelve month. Ah fool, said the knight\nunto Arthur, it is in vain thy desire, for it shall never be achieved\nbut by me, or my next kin. Therewith he stert unto the king\u2019s horse,\nand mounted into the saddle, and said, Gramercy, this horse is mine\nown. Well, said the king, thou mayest take my horse by force, but and I\nmight prove thee whether thou wert better on horseback or I. Well, said\nthe knight, seek me here when thou wilt, and here nigh this well thou\nshalt find me; and so passed on his way. Then the king sat in a study,\nand bad his men fetch his horse as fast as ever they might. Right so\ncame by him Merlin like a child of fourteen year of age, and saluted\nthe king, and asked him why he was so pensive? I may well be pensive,\nsaid the king, for I have seen the marvellest sight that ever I saw.\nThat know I well, said Merlin, as well as thyself, and of all thy\nthoughts; but thou art but a fool to take thought, for it will not\namend thee. Also I know what thou art, and who was thy father, and of\nwhom thou wert born; king Uther Pendragon was thy father, and had thee\nof Igraine. That is false, said king Arthur; how shouldest thou know\nit? for thou art not so old of years to know my father. Yes, said\nMerlin, I know it better than ye or any man living. I will not believe\nthee, said Arthur, and was wroth with the child. So departed Merlin;\nand came again in the likeness of an old man of fourscore years of age,\nwhereof the king was right glad, for he seemed to be right wise.\nThen said the old man, Why are ye so sad? I may well be heavy, said\nArthur, for many things. Also here was a child, and told me many things\nthat me seemeth he should not know, for he was not of age to know my\nfather. Yes, said the old man, the child told you truth, and more would\nhe have told you and ye would have suffered him. But ye have done a\nthing late that God is displeased with you, and your sister shall have\na child that shall destroy you and all the knights of your realm. What\nare ye, said Arthur, that tell me these tidings? I am Merlin, and I was\nhe in the child\u2019s likeness. Ah, said king Arthur, ye are a marvellous\nman, but I marvel much of thy words that I must die in battle. Marvel\nnot, said Merlin, for it is God\u2019s will your body to be punished for\nyour foul deeds. But I may well be sorry, said Merlin, for I shall die\na shameful death, to be put in the earth quick, and ye shall die a\nworshipful death. And as they talked this, came one with the king\u2019s\nhorse, and so the king mounted on his horse and Merlin on another, and\nso rode unto Carlion. And anon the king asked Ector and Ulfius how he\nwas born. And they told him that Uther Pendragon was his father, and\nqueen Igraine his mother: then he said to Merlin, I will that my mother\nbe sent for, that I may speak with her, and if she say so herself, then\nwill I believe it. In all haste the queen was sent for, and she came\nand brought with her Morgan le Fay her daughter, that was as fair a\nlady as any might be. And the king welcomed Igraine in the best manner.\n_How Ulfius appeached queen Igraine, Arthur\u2019s mother, of treason: and\n how a knight came and desired to have the death of his master\n revenged._\nRight so came Ulfius and said openly, that the king and all might hear\nthat were feasted that day, Ye are the falsest lady of the world, and\nthe most traitress unto the king\u2019s person. Beware, said Arthur, what\nthou sayest; thou speakest a great word. I am well ware, said Sir\nUlfius, what I speak, and here is my glove to prove it upon any man\nthat will say the contrary, that this queen Igraine is causer of your\ngreat damage, and of your great war. For, and she would have uttered it\nin the life of king Uther Pendragon of the birth of you, ye had never\nhad half the mortal wars that ye have had: for the most part of your\nbarons of your realm knew never whose son ye were, nor of whom ye were\nborn. And she that bear you should have made it known openly in\nexcusing of her worship and yours, and in likewise to all the realm;\nwherefore I prove her false to God and to you and to all your realm,\nand who will say the contrary I will prove it upon his body.\nThen spake Igraine and said, I am a woman, and I may not fight, but\nrather than I should be dishonoured there would some good man take my\nquarrel. More she said, Merlin knoweth well, and ye Sir Ulfius, how\nking Uther came to me in the castle of Tintagel, in the likeness of my\nlord that was dead three hours tofore. And after my lord was dead king\nUther wedded me, and by his commandment when the child was born it was\ndelivered unto Merlin, and nourished by him, and so I saw the child\nnever after, nor wot not what is his name, for I knew him never yet.\nAnd there Ulfius said to the queen, Merlin is more to blame than ye.\nWell I wot, said the queen, that I bare a child by my lord king Uther,\nbut I wot not where he is become. Then Merlin took the king by the\nhand, saying, This is your mother. And therewith Sir Ector bare witness\nhow he nourished him by Uther\u2019s commandment. And, therewith king Arthur\ntook his mother queen Igraine in his arms and kissed her and either\nwept upon other. And then the king let make a feast that lasted eight\ndays. Then on a day there came into the court a squire on horseback,\nleading a knight before him wounded to the death, and told him how\nthere was a knight in the forest had reared up a pavilion by a well,\nand hath slain my master, a good knight, his name was Miles; wherefore\nI beseech you that my master may be buried, and that some knight may\nrevenge my master\u2019s death. Then the noise was great of that knight\u2019s\ndeath in the court, and every man said his advice: then came Griflet\nthat was but a squire, and he was but young, of the age of king Arthur;\nso he besought the king for all his service that he had done him to\ngive him the order of knighthood.\n_How Griflet was made knight, and justed with a knight._\nThou art full young and tender of age, said Arthur, for to take so high\nan order on thee. Sir, said Griflet, I beseech you make me knight. Sir,\nsaid Merlin, it were great pity to lose Griflet, for he will be a\npassing good man when he is of age, abiding with you the term of his\nlife. And if he adventure his body with yonder knight at the fountain\nit is in great peril if ever he come again, for he is one of the best\nknights of the world, and the strongest man of arms. Well, said king\nArthur. So at the desire of Griflet the king made him knight. Now, said\nArthur unto Sir Griflet, since I have made you knight, thou must give\nme a gift. What ye will, said Griflet. Thou shalt promise me by the\nfaith of thy body, when thou hast justed with the knight at the\nfountain, whether it fall ye be on foot or on horseback, that right so\nye shall come again unto me without making any more debate. I will\npromise you, said Griflet, as you desire. Then took Griflet his horse\nin great haste, and dressed his shield, and took a spear in his hand,\nand so he rode a great wallop till he came to the fountain, and thereby\nhe saw a rich pavilion, and thereby under a cloth stood a fair horse\nwell saddled and bridled, and on a tree a shield of divers colours, and\na great spear. Then Griflet smote on the shield with the butt of his\nspear that the shield fell down to the ground. With that the knight\ncame out of the pavilion and said, Fair knight, why smote ye down my\nshield? For I will just with you, said Griflet. It is better ye do not,\nsaid the knight, for ye are but young, and late made knight, and your\nmight is nothing to mine. As for that, said Griflet, I will just with\nyou. That is me loth, said the knight, but since I must needs I will\ndress me thereto: of whence be ye? said the knight. Sir, I am of\nArthur\u2019s court. So the two knights ran together, that Griflet\u2019s spear\nall to-shivered, and therewithal he smote Griflet through the shield\nand the left side, and brake the spear, that the truncheon stack in his\nbody, that horse and knight fell down.\n_How twelve knights came from Rome and asked truage for this land of\n Arthur, and how Arthur fought with a knight._\nWhen the knight saw him lie so on the ground he alighted, and was\npassing heavy, for he wend he had slain him, and then he unlaced his\nhelm and gat him wind, and so with the truncheon he set him on his\nhorse and gat him wind, and so betook him to God, and said he had a\nmighty heart, and if he might live he would prove a passing good\nknight. And so Sir Griflet rode to the court, where great dole was made\nfor him. But through good leeches he was healed and saved.\nRight so came into the court twelve knights, and were aged men, and\nthey came from the emperor of Rome, and they asked of Arthur truage for\nthis realm, other else the emperor would destroy him and his land.\nWell, said king Arthur, ye are messagers, therefore may ye say what ye\nwill, other else ye should die therefore. But this is mine answer; I\nowe the emperor no truage, nor none will I hold him; but on a fair\nfield I shall give him my truage, that shall be with a sharp spear or\nelse with a sharp sword, and that shall not be long, by my father\u2019s\nsoul, Uther Pendragon. And therewith the messagers departed passingly\nwroth, and king Arthur as wroth, for in evil time came they then, for\nthe king was passingly wroth for the hurt of Sir Griflet. And so he\ncommanded a privyman of his chamber, that or it be day his best horse\nand armour, with all that belongeth unto his person, be without the\ncity or to-morrow day. Right so, or to-morrow day, he met with his man\nand his horse, and so mounted up, and dressed his shield, and took his\nspear, and bade his chamberlain tarry there till he came again.\nAnd so Arthur rode a soft pace till it was day, and then was he aware\nof three churls chasing Merlin, and would have slain him. Then the king\nrode unto them and bade them, Flee churls! Then were they afeard when\nthey saw a knight, and fled. O Merlin, said Arthur, here haddest thou\nbeen slain for all thy crafts, had I not been. Nay, said Merlin, not\nso, for I could save myself an I would, and thou art more near thy\ndeath than I am, for thou goest to the death-ward, and God be not thy\nfriend. So as they went thus talking they came to the fountain, and the\nrich pavilion there by it. Then king Arthur was ware where sat a knight\narmed in a chair. Sir knight, said Arthur, for what cause abidest thou\nhere, that there may no knight ride this way but if he just with thee,\nsaid the king: I rede thee leave that custom, said Arthur. This custom,\nsaid the knight, have I used and will use maugre who saith nay; and who\nis grieved with my custom let him amend it that will. I will amend it,\nsaid Arthur. I shall defend thee, said the knight. Anon he took his\nhorse, and dressed his shield, and took a spear, and they met so hard\neither in other\u2019s shields that they all to-shivered their spears.\nTherewith Arthur anon pulled out his sword. Nay, not so, said the\nknight, it is fairer that we twain run more together with sharp spears.\nI will well, said Arthur, and I had any more spears. I have enow, said\nthe knight. So there came a squire, and brought two good spears, and\nArthur chose one and he another, so they spurred their horses, and came\ntogether with all their mights, that either brake their spears to their\nhands. Then Arthur set hand on his sword. Nay, said the knight, ye\nshall do better; ye are a passing good juster as ever I met withal, and\nonce for the love of the high order of knighthood let us just once\nagain. I assent me, said Arthur. Anon there were brought two great\nspears, and every knight gat a spear, and therewith they ran together\nthat Arthur\u2019s spear all to-shivered. But the other knight hit him so\nhard in midst of the shield that horse and man fell to the earth, and\ntherewith Arthur was eager, and pulled out his sword, and said, I will\nassay thee, Sir knight, on foot, for I have lost the honour on\nhorseback. I will be on horseback, said the knight. Then was Arthur\nwroth, and dressed his shield towards him with his sword drawn. When\nthe knight saw that, he alight, for him thought no worship to have a\nknight at such avail, he to be on horseback, and he on foot, and so he\nalight and dressed his shield unto Arthur. And there began a strong\nbattle with many great strokes, and so hewed with their swords that the\ncantels flew in the fields, and much blood they bled both, that all the\nplace there as they fought was over-bled with blood, and thus they\nfought long, and rested them, and then they went to the battle again,\nand so hurtled together like two rams that either fell to the earth. So\nat the last they smote together, that both their swords met even\ntogether. But the sword of the knight smote king Arthur\u2019s sword in two\npieces, wherefore he was heavy. Then said the knight unto Arthur, Thou\nart in my danger whether me list to save thee or slay thee, and but\nthou yield thee as overcome and recreant thou shalt die. As for death,\nsaid king Arthur, welcome be it when it cometh; but to yield me unto\nthee as recreant I had lever die than to be so shamed. And therewithal\nthe king leapt unto Pellinore, and took him by the middle, and threw\nhim down, and rased off his helmet. When the knight felt that he was\nadread, for he was a passing big man of might, and anon he brought\nArthur under him, and rased off his helm, and would have smitten off\nhis head.\n_How Merlin saved Arthur\u2019s life, and threw an enchantment upon king\n Pellinore, and made him to sleep._\nTherewithal came Merlin, and said, Knight, hold thy hand, for and thou\nslay that knight thou puttest this realm in the greatest damage that\never was realm: for this knight is a man of more worship than thou\nwotest of. Why, who is he? said the knight. It is king Arthur. Then\nwould he have slain him for dread of his wrath, and heaved up his\nsword, and therewith Merlin cast an enchantment to the knight, that he\nfell to the earth in a great sleep. Then Merlin took up king Arthur,\nand rode forth on the knight\u2019s horse. Alas, said Arthur, what hast thou\ndone, Merlin? hast thou slain this good knight by thy crafts? There\nlived not so worshipful a knight as he was; I had lever than the stint\nof my land a year that he were onlive. Care ye not, said Merlin, for he\nis wholer than ye, for he is but on sleep, and will awake within three\nhours. I told you, said Merlin, what a knight he was; here had ye be\nslain had I not been. Also there liveth not a bigger knight than he is\none, and he shall hereafter do you right good service, and his name is\nPellinore, and he shall have two sons that shall be passing good men;\nsave one, they shall have no fellow of prowess and of good living; and\ntheir names shall be Percivale of Wales and Lamerake of Wales: and he\nshall tell you the name of your sister\u2019s son that shall be the\ndestruction of all this realm.\n_How Arthur by the mean of Merlin gat Excalibur his sword of the Lady\n of the lake._\nRight so the king and he departed, and went until an hermit that was a\ngood man and a great leach. So the hermit searched all his wounds and\ngave him good salves; so the king was there three days, and then were\nhis wounds well amended that he might ride and go, and so departed. And\nas they rode, Arthur said, I have no sword. No force, said Merlin,\nhereby is a sword that shall be yours and I may. So they rode till they\ncame to a lake, the which was a fair water and broad, and in the midst\nof the lake Arthur was ware of an arm clothed in white samite, that\nheld a fair sword in that hand. Lo, said Merlin, yonder is that sword\nthat I spake of. With that they saw a damsel going upon the lake: What\ndamsel is that? said Arthur. That is the Lady of the lake, said Merlin;\nand within that lake is a rock, and therein is as fair a place as any\non earth, and richly beseen, and this damsel will come to you anon, and\nthen speak ye fair to her that she will give you that sword. Anon\nwithal came the damsel unto Arthur and saluted him, and he her again.\nDamsel, said Arthur, what sword is that, that yonder the arm holdeth\nabove the water? I would it were mine, for I have no sword. Sir Arthur\nking, said the damsel, that sword is mine, and if ye will give me a\ngift when I ask it you, ye shall have it. By my faith, said Arthur, I\nwill give you what gift ye will ask. Well, said the damsel, go ye into\nyonder barge and row yourself to the sword, and take it and the\nscabbard with you, and I will ask my gift when I see my time. So Sir\nArthur and Merlin alight, and tied their horses to two trees, and so\nthey went into the ship, and when they came to the sword that the hand\nheld, Sir Arthur took it up by the handles, and took it with him. And\nthe arm and the hand went under the water; and so they came unto the\nland and rode forth. And then Sir Arthur saw a rich pavilion: What\nsignifieth yonder pavilion? It is the knight\u2019s pavilion, said Merlin,\nthat ye fought with last, Sir Pellinore, but he is out, he is not\nthere; he hath ado with a knight of yours, that hight Egglame, and they\nhave fought together, but at the last Egglame fled, and else he had\nbeen dead, and he hath chased him even to Carlion, and we shall meet\nwith him anon in the high way. That is well said, said Arthur, now have\nI a sword, now will I wage battle with him and be avenged on him. Sir,\nye shall not so, said Merlin, for the knight is weary of fighting and\nchasing, so that ye shall have no worship to have ado with him; also he\nwill not lightly be matched of one knight living; and therefore it is\nmy counsel, let him pass, for he shall do you good service in short\ntime, and his sons after his days. Also ye shall see that day in short\nspace, ye shall be right glad to give him your sister to wed. When I\nsee him, I will do as ye advise me, said Arthur. Then Sir Arthur looked\non the sword, and liked it passing well. Whether liketh you better,\nsaid Merlin, the sword or the scabbard? Me liketh better the sword,\nsaid Arthur. Ye are more unwise, said Merlin, for the scabbard is worth\nten of the sword, for while ye have the scabbard upon you ye shall\nnever lose no blood, be ye never so sore wounded, therefore keep well\nthe scabbard always with you. So they rode unto Carlion, and by the way\nthey met with Sir Pellinore; but Merlin had done such a craft that\nPellinore saw not Arthur, and he passed by without any words. I marvel,\nsaid Arthur, that the knight would not speak. Sir, said Merlin, he saw\nyou not, for and he had seen you ye had not lightly departed. So they\ncame unto Carlion, whereof his knights were passing glad. And when they\nheard of his adventures they marvelled that he would jeopard his person\nso alone. But all men of worship said it was merry to be under such a\nchieftain that would put his person in adventure as other poor knights\ndid.\n_How tidings came to Arthur that king Ryons had overcome eleven kings,\n and how he desired Arthur\u2019s beard to trim his mantle._\nThis meanwhile came a messager from king Ryons of North Wales, and king\nhe was of all Ireland, and of many Isles. And this was his message,\ngreeting well king Arthur in this manner wise, saying that king Ryons\nhad discomfited and overcome eleven kings, and every each of them did\nhim homage, and that was this\u2014they gave him their beards clean flayed\noff, as much as there was; wherefore the messager came for king\nArthur\u2019s beard. For king Ryons had trimmed a mantle with kings\u2019 beards,\nand there lacked one place of the mantle, wherefore he sent for his\nbeard, or else he would enter into his lands, and burn and slay, and\nnever leave till he have the head and the beard. Well, said Arthur,\nthou hast said thy message, the which is the most villainous and\nlewdest message that ever man heard sent unto a king: also thou mayest\nsee my beard is full young yet to make a trimming of it. But tell thou\nthy king this: I owe him none homage, nor none of mine elders; but or\nit be long he shall do me homage on both his knees, or else he shall\nlose his head, by the faith of my body, for this is the most\nshamefulest message that ever I heard speak of. I see well thy king met\nnever yet with worshipful man, but tell him I will have his head\nwithout he do me homage. Then the messager departed. Now is there any\nhere, said Arthur, that knoweth king Ryons? Then answered a knight that\nhight Naram, Sir, I know the king well; he is a passing good man of his\nbody as few be living, and a passing proud man; and, Sir, doubt ye not\nhe will make war on you with a mighty puissance. Well, said Arthur, I\nshall ordain for him in short time.\n_How all the children were sent for that were born on May-day, and how\n Mordred was saved._\nThen king Arthur let send for all the children born on May-day of lords\nand ladies, for Merlin told king Arthur that he that should destroy him\nshould be born on May-day, wherefore he sent for them all upon pain of\ndeath. And so there were found many lords\u2019 sons, and all were sent unto\nthe king, and so was Mordred sent by king Lot\u2019s wife, and all were put\nin a ship to the sea, and some were four weeks old, and some less. And\nso by fortune the ship drove unto a castle, and was all to-riven, and\ndestroyed the most part, save that Mordred was cast up, and a good man\nfound him, and nourished him till he was fourteen year old, and then he\nbrought him to the court, as it rehearseth afterward toward the end of\nthe Death of Arthur. So many lords and barons of this realm were\ndispleased, for their children were so lost, and many put the blame on\nMerlin more than on Arthur; so what for dread and for love they held\ntheir peace. But when the messager came to king Ryons then was he wood\nout of measure, and purveyed him for a great host, as it rehearseth\nafter in the book of Balin le Savage that followeth next after, how by\nadventure Balin gat the sword.\n Explicit liber primus. Incipit liber secundus.\n_Of a damsel which came girt with a sword for to find a man of such\n virtue to draw it out of the scabbard._\nAfter the death of Uther Pendragon reigned Arthur his son, the which\nhad great war in his days for to get all England into his hand. For\nthere were many kings within the realm of England, and in Wales,\nScotland, and Cornwall. So it befel on a time when king Arthur was at\nLondon, there came a knight and told the king tidings how that the king\nRyons of North Wales had reared a great number of people, and were\nentered into the land, and burnt and slew the king\u2019s true liege people.\nIf this be true, said Arthur, it were great shame unto mine estate but\nthat he were mightily withstood. It is truth, said the knight, for I\nsaw the host myself. Well, said the king, let make a cry, that all the\nlords, knights, and gentlemen of arms, should draw unto a castle,\ncalled Camelot in those days, and there the king would let make a\ncouncil general, and a great justs.\nSo when the king was come thither with all his baronage, and lodged as\nthey seemed best, there was come a damsel the which was sent on message\nfrom the great lady Lile of Avelion. And when she came before king\nArthur, she told from whom she came, and how she was sent on message\nunto him for these causes. Then she let her mantle fall that was richly\nfurred; and then was she girt with a noble sword, whereof the king had\nmarvel, and said, Damsel, for what cause are ye girt with that sword?\nit beseemeth you not. Now shall I tell you, said the damsel: this sword\nthat I am girt withal doth me great sorrow and cumberance, for I may\nnot be delivered of this sword but by a knight, but he must be a\npassing good man of his hands and of his deeds, and without villainy or\ntreachery, and without treason. And if I may find such a knight that\nhath all these virtues, he may draw out this sword out of the sheath.\nFor I have been at king Ryons\u2019; it was told me there were passing good\nknights, and he and all his knights have assayed it, and none can\nspeed. This is a great marvel, said Arthur; if this be sooth, I will\nmyself assay to draw out the sword, not presuming upon myself that I am\nthe best knight, but that I will begin to draw at your sword in giving\nexample to all the barons, that they shall assay every one after other\nwhen I have assayed it. Then Arthur took the sword by the sheath and by\nthe girdle, and pulled at it eagerly, but the sword would not out. Sir,\nsaid the damsel, ye need not to pull half so hard, for he that shall\npull it out, shall do it with little might. Ye say well, said Arthur:\nnow assay ye, all my barons, but beware ye be not defiled with shame,\ntreachery, nor guile. Then it will not avail, said the damsel, for he\nmust be a clean knight without villainy, and of a gentle stock of\nfather side and mother side. Most of all the barons of the Round Table\nthat were there at that time assayed all by row, but there might none\nspeed; wherefore the damsel made great sorrow out of measure, and said,\nAlas! I wend in this court had been the best knights, without treachery\nor treason. By my faith, saith Arthur, here are good knights as I deem\nany been in the world, but their grace is not to help you, wherefore I\nam displeased.\n_How Balin, arrayed like a poor knight, pulled out the sword, which\n afterward was cause of his death._\nThen fell it so that time there was a poor knight with king Arthur,\nthat had been prisoner with him half a year and more, for slaying of a\nknight the which was cousin unto king Arthur. The name of this knight\nwas called Balin, and by good means of the barons he was delivered out\nof prison, for he was a good man named of his body, and he was born in\nNorthumberland. And so he went privily into the court, and saw this\nadventure, whereof it raised his heart, and he would assay it as other\nknights did, but for he was poor and poorly arrayed he put him not far\nin press; but in his heart he was fully assured to do as well, if his\ngrace happed him, as any knight that there was. And as the damsel took\nher leave of Arthur and of all the barons, so departing, this knight\nBalin called unto her and said, Damsel, I pray you of your courtesy\nsuffer me as well to assay as these lords; though that I be so poorly\nclothed, in mine heart me seemeth I am fully assured as some of these\nother, and me seemeth in my heart to speed right well. The damsel\nbeheld the poor knight, and saw he was a likely man, but for of his\npoor arrayment she thought he should be of no worship without villainy\nor treachery. And then she said unto the knight, Sir, it needeth not to\nput me to more pain or labour, for it seemeth not you to speed there as\nother have failed. Ah, fair damsel, said Balin, worthiness and good\nqualities and good deeds are not all only in arrayment, but manhood and\nworship is hid within man\u2019s person, and many a worshipful knight is not\nknown unto all people, and therefore worship and hardiness is not in\narrayment. Ye say sooth, said the damsel, therefore ye shall assay to\ndo what ye may. Then Balin took the sword by the girdle and sheath and\ndrew it out easily, and when he looked on the sword it pleased him\nmuch. Then had the king and all the barons great marvel that Balin had\ndone that adventure, and many knights had great despite of Balin.\nCertes, said the damsel, this is a passing good knight, and the best\nthat ever I found, and most of worship without treason, treachery, or\nvillainy, and many marvels shall he do. Now, gentle and courteous\nknight, give me the sword again. Nay, said Balin, for this sword will I\nkeep, but it be taken from me by force. Well, said the damsel, ye are\nnot wise to keep the sword from me, for ye shall slay with the sword\nthe best friend that ye have, and the man that ye most love in the\nworld, and the sword shall be your destruction. I shall take the\nadventure, said Balin, that God will ordain me, but the sword ye shall\nnot have at this time, by the faith of my body. Ye shall repent it\nwithin short time, said the damsel, for I would have the sword more for\nyour avail than for mine, for I am passing heavy for your sake; for ye\nwill not believe that sword shall be your destruction, and that is\ngreat pity. With that the damsel departed, making great sorrow.\nAnon after Balin sent for his horse and his armour, and so would depart\nfrom the court, and took his leave of king Arthur. Nay, said the king,\nI suppose ye will not depart so lightly from this fellowship. I suppose\nthat ye are displeased that I have shewed you unkindness; blame me the\nless, for I was misinformed against you, but I wend you had not been\nsuch a knight as ye are of worship and prowess, and if ye will abide in\nthis court among my fellowship, I shall so advance you as ye shall be\npleased. God thank your highness, said Balin, for your bounty and\nhighness may no man praise half to the value; but at this time I must\nneeds depart, beseeching you alway of your good grace. Truly, said the\nking, I am right wroth for your departing: I pray you, fair knight,\nthat ye tarry not long, and ye shall be right welcome to me and to my\nbarons, and I shall amend all amiss that I have done against you. God\nthank your great lordship, said Balin, and therewith made him ready to\ndepart. Then the most part of the knights of the Round Table said that\nBalin did not this adventure all only by might, but by witchcraft.\n_How the Lady of the lake demanded the knight\u2019s head that had won the\n sword, or the maiden\u2019s head._\nThe meanwhile that this knight was making him ready to depart, there\ncame into the court a lady that hight the Lady of the lake. And she\ncame on horseback, richly beseen, and saluted king Arthur; and there\nasked him a gift that he promised her when she gave him the sword. That\nis sooth, said Arthur, a gift I promised you, but I have forgotten the\nname of my sword that ye gave me. The name of it, said the lady, is\nExcalibur, that is as much to say as Cut-steel. Ye say well, said the\nking, ask what ye will and ye shall have it, and it lie in my power to\ngive it. Well, said the lady, I ask the head of the knight that hath\nwon the sword, or else the damsel\u2019s head that brought it; I take no\nforce though I have both their heads, for he slew my brother, a good\nknight and a true, and that gentlewoman was causer of my father\u2019s\ndeath. Truly, said king Arthur, I may not grant neither of their heads\nwith my worship, therefore ask what ye will else, and I shall fulfil\nyour desire. I will ask none other thing, said the lady. When Balin was\nready to depart he saw the Lady of the lake that by her means had slain\nBalin\u2019s mother, and he had sought her three years, and when it was told\nhim that she asked his head of king Arthur he went to her straight and\nsaid, Evil be you found, ye would have my head and therefore ye shall\nlose yours. And with his sword lightly he smote off her head before\nking Arthur. Alas! for shame, said Arthur, why have you done so? ye\nhave shamed me and all my court, for this was a lady that I was\nbeholden to, and hither she came under my safe conduct; I shall never\nforgive you that trespass. Sir, said Balin, me forthinketh of your\ndispleasure, for this same lady was the untruest lady living, and by\nenchantment and sorcery she hath been the destroyer of many good\nknights, and she was causer that my mother was burnt through her\nfalsehood and treachery. What cause so ever ye had, said Arthur, ye\nshould have forborne her in my presence; therefore, think not the\ncontrary, ye shall repent it, for such another despite had I never in\nmy court: therefore withdraw you out of my court in all haste that ye\nmay. Then Balin took up the head of the lady, and bare it with him to\nhis hostry, and there he met with his squire, that was sorry he had\ndispleased king Arthur, and so they rode forth out of the town. Now,\nsaid Balin, we must part; take thou this head and bear it to my\nfriends, and tell them how I have sped, and tell my friends in\nNorthumberland that my most foe is dead. Also tell them how I am out of\nprison, and also what adventure befel me at the getting of this sword.\nAlas, said the squire, ye are greatly to blame for to displease king\nArthur. As for that, said Balin, I will hie me in all the haste that I\nmay, to meet with king Ryons and destroy him, or else to die therefore;\nand if it may hap me to win him, then will king Arthur be my good and\ngracious lord. Where shall I meet with you? said the squire. In king\nArthur\u2019s court, said Balin. So his squire and he departed at that time.\nThen king Arthur and all the court made great dole, and had shame of\nthe death of the Lady of the lake. Then the king buried her richly.\n_How Merlin told the adventure of this damsel._\nAt that time there was a knight the which was the king\u2019s son of\nIreland, and his name was Lanceor, the which was an orgulous knight,\nand counted himself one of the best of the court, and he had great\ndespite at Balin for the achieving of the sword, that any should be\naccounted more hardy, or of more prowess; and he asked king Arthur if\nhe would give him leave to ride after Balin, and to revenge the despite\nthat he had done. Do your best, said Arthur, I am right wroth with\nBalin, I would he were quit of the despite that he hath done to me and\nto my court. Then this Lanceor went to his hostry to make him ready. In\nthe meanwhile came Merlin unto the court of king Arthur, and there was\ntold him the adventure of the sword, and the death of the Lady of the\nlake. Now shall I say you, said Merlin, this same damsel that here\nstandeth, that brought the sword unto your court, I shall tell you the\ncause of her coming,\u2014she was the falsest damsel that liveth. Say not\nso, said they. She hath a brother, a passing good knight of prowess and\na full true man, and this damsel loved another knight that held her to\nparamour, and this good knight her brother met with the knight that\nheld her to paramour, and slew him by force of his hands. When this\nfalse damsel understood this she went to the lady Lile of Avelion, and\nbesought her of help, to be avenged on her own brother. And so this\nlady Lile of Avelion took her this sword, that she brought with her,\nand told there should no man pull it out of the sheath but if he be one\nof the best knights of this realm, and he should be hardy and full of\nprowess, and with that sword he should slay her brother. This was the\ncause that the damsel came into this court. I know it as well as ye.\nWould she had not come into this court, but she came never in\nfellowship of worship to do good, but alway great harm. And that knight\nthat hath achieved the sword shall be destroyed by that sword, for the\nwhich will be great damage, for there liveth not a knight of more\nprowess than he is, and he shall do unto you, my lord Arthur, great\nhonour and kindness, and it is great pity he shall not endure but a\nwhile, for of his strength and hardiness I know not his match living.\n_How Balin was pursued by Sir Lanceor, knight of Ireland, and how he\n justed and slew him._\nSo the knight of Ireland armed him at all points, and dressed his\nshield on his shoulder, and mounted upon horseback, and took his spear\nin his hand, and rode after a great pace as much as his horse might go,\nand within a little space on a mountain he had a sight of Balin, and\nwith a loud voice he cried, Abide knight, for ye shall abide whether ye\nwill or nill, and the shield that is tofore you shall not help. When\nBalin heard the noise he turned his horse fiercely, and said, Fair\nknight what will ye with me, will ye just with me? Yea, said the Irish\nknight, therefore come I after you. Peradventure, said Balin, it had\nbeen better to have holden you at home, for many a man weneth to put\nhis enemy to a rebuke, and oft it falleth to himself. Of what court be\nye sent from? said Balin. I am come from the court of king Arthur, said\nthe knight of Ireland, that come hither for to revenge the despite ye\ndid this day to king Arthur and to his court. Well, said Balin, I see\nwell I must have ado with you, that me forthinketh for to grieve king\nArthur, or any of his court; and your quarrel is full simple, said\nBalin, unto me, for the lady that is dead did me great damage, and else\nwould I have been loth as any knight that liveth for to slay a lady.\nMake you ready, said the knight Lanceor, and dress you unto me, for\nthat one shall abide in the field. Then they took their spears, and\ncame together as much as their horses might drive, and the Irish knight\nsmote Balin on the shield, that all went shivers of his spear, and\nBalin hit him through the shield, and the hauberk perished, and so\npierced through his body and the horse croup, and anon turned his horse\nfiercely and drew out his sword, and wist not that he had slain him,\nand then he saw him lie as a dead corpse.\n_How a damsel, which was love to Lanceor, slew herself for love; and\n how Balin met with his brother Balan._\nThen he looked by him, and was ware of a damsel that came riding full\nfast as the horse might ride, on a fair palfrey. And when she espied\nthat Lanceor was slain she made sorrow out of measure, and said, O\nBalin, two bodies thou hast slain and one heart, and two hearts in one\nbody, and two souls thou hast lost. And therewith she took the sword\nfrom her love that lay dead, and fell to the ground in a swoon. And\nwhen she arose she made great dole out of measure, the which sorrow\ngrieved Balin passingly sore, and he went unto her for to have taken\nthe sword out of her hand, but she held it so fast he might not take it\nout of her hand unless he should have hurt her, and suddenly she set\nthe pommel to the ground, and rove herself through the body. When Balin\nespied her deeds, he was passing heavy in his heart, and ashamed that\nso fair a damsel had destroyed herself for the love of his death. Alas,\nsaid Balin, me repenteth sore the death of this knight for the love of\nthis damsel, for there was much true love betwixt them both. And for\nsorrow he might no longer hold him, but turned his horse and looked\ntowards a great forest, and there he was ware, by the arms, of his\nbrother Balan. And when they were met they put off their helms and\nkissed together, and wept for joy and pity. Then Balan said, I little\nwend to have met with you at this sudden adventure; I am right glad of\nyour deliverance out of your dolorous prisonment, for a man told me in\nthe castle of Four Stones that ye were delivered, and that man had seen\nyou in the court of king Arthur, and therefore I came hither into this\ncountry, for here I supposed to find you. Anon the knight Balin told\nhis brother of his adventure of the sword, and of the death of the Lady\nof the lake, and how king Arthur was displeased with him: Wherefore he\nsent this knight after me that lieth here dead; and the death of this\ndamsel grieveth me sore. So doth it me, said Balan, but ye must take\nthe adventure that God will ordain you. Truly, said Balin, I am right\nheavy that my lord Arthur is displeased with me, for he is the most\nworshipful knight that reigneth now on earth, and his love I will get\nor else I will put my life in adventure; for the king Ryons lieth at a\nsiege at the castle Terrabil, and thither will we draw in all haste, to\nprove our worship and prowess upon him. I will well, said Balan, that\nwe do, and we will help each other as brethren ought to do.\n_How a dwarf reproved Balin for the death of Lanceor, and how king Mark\n of Cornwall found them, and made a tomb over them._\nNow go we hence, said Balin, and well be we met. The meanwhile as they\ntalked there came a dwarf from the city of Camelot on horseback, as\nmuch as he might, and found the dead bodies, wherefore he made great\ndole, and pulled out his hair for sorrow, and said, Which of you\nknights have done this deed? Whereby askest thou it, said Balan. For I\nwould wit it, said the dwarf. It was I, said Balin, that slew this\nknight in my defence, for hither came he to chase me, and either I must\nslay him or he me; and this damsel slew herself for his love, which\nrepenteth me, and for her sake I shall owe all women the better love.\nAlas, said the dwarf, thou hast done great damage unto thyself, for\nthis knight that is here dead was one of the most valiantest men that\nlived, and trust well, Balin, the kin of this knight will chase you\nthrough the world till they have slain you. As for that, said Balin, I\nfear not greatly, but I am right heavy that I have displeased my lord\nking Arthur for the death of this knight. So as they talked together\nthere came a king of Cornwall riding, the which hight king Mark. And\nwhen he saw these two bodies dead, and understood how they were dead by\nthe two knights above said, then made the king great sorrow for the\ntrue love that was betwixt them, and said, I will not depart till I\nhave on this earth made a tomb. And there he pight his pavilions, and\nsought through all the country to find a tomb, and in a church they\nfound one was fair and rich, and then the king let put them both in the\nearth, and put the tomb upon them, and wrote the names of them both on\nthe tomb:\u2014How here lieth Lanceor the king\u2019s son of Ireland that at his\nown request was slain by the hands of Balin, and how his lady Colombe\nslew herself with her love\u2019s sword for dole and sorrow.\n_How Merlin prophesied that two the best knights of the world should\n fight there, which were Sir Lancelot and Sir Tristram._\nThe meanwhile as this was adoing, in came Merlin to king Mark, and\nseeing all his doing said, Here shall be in this same place the\ngreatest battle betwixt two knights that was or ever shall be, and the\ntruest lovers, and yet none of them shall slay other. And there Merlin\nwrote their names upon the tomb with letters of gold that should fight\nin that place, whose names were Launcelot de Lake, and Tristram. Thou\nart a marvellous man, said king Mark unto Merlin, that speakest of such\nmarvels, thou art a rude man and an unlikely to tell of such deeds;\nwhat is thy name? said king Mark. At this time, said Merlin, I will not\ntell, but at that time when Sir Tristram is taken with his sovereign\nlady, then ye shall hear and know my name, and at that time ye shall\nhear tidings that shall not please you. Then said Merlin to Balin, Thou\nhast done thyself great hurt, because thou savedst not this lady that\nslew herself, that might have saved her and thou wouldest. By the faith\nof my body, said Balin, I might not save her, for she slew herself\nsuddenly. Me repenteth, said Merlin, because of the death of that lady\nthou shalt strike a stroke the most dolorous that ever man struck,\nexcept the stroke of our Lord, for thou shalt hurt the truest knight\nand the man of most worship that now liveth, and through that stroke\nthree kingdoms shall be in great poverty, misery, and wretchedness,\ntwelve year, and the knight shall not be whole of that wound many\nyears. Then Merlin took his leave of Balin. And Balin said, If I wist\nit were sooth that ye say, I should do such a perilous deed as that I\nwould slay myself to make thee a liar. Therewith Merlin vanished away\nsuddenly. And then Balin and his brother took their leave of king Mark.\nFirst, said the king, tell me your name. Sir, said Balan, ye may see he\nbeareth two swords, thereby ye may call him the knight with the two\nswords. And so departed king Mark unto Camelot to king Arthur, and\nBalin took the way to king Ryons: and as they rode together they met\nwith Merlin disguised, but they knew him not. Whither ride you? said\nMerlin. We have little to do, said the two knights, to tell thee: But\nwhat is thy name? said Balin. At this time, said Merlin, I will not\ntell it thee. It is evil seen, said the two knights, that thou art a\ntrue man that thou wilt not tell thy name. As for that, said Merlin, be\nit as it be may, I can tell you wherefore ye ride this way, for to meet\nking Ryons, but it will not avail you without ye have my counsel. Ah,\nsaid Balin, ye are Merlin: we will be ruled by your counsel. Come on,\nsaid Merlin, ye shall have great worship, and look that ye do knightly,\nfor ye shall have great need. As for that, said Balin, dread you not,\nwe will do what we may.\n_How Balin and his brother by the counsel of Merlin took king Ryons,\n and brought him to king Arthur._\nThen Merlin lodged them in a wood among leaves beside the highway, and\ntook off the bridles of their horses and put them to grass, and laid\nthem down to rest them till it was nigh midnight. Then Merlin bad them\nrise and make them ready, for the king was nigh them, that was stolen\naway from his host with a threescore horses of his best knights, and\ntwenty of them rode tofore, to warn the lady De Vance that the king was\ncoming. Which is the king? said Balin. Abide, said Merlin, here in a\nstraight way ye shall meet with him; and therewith he shewed Balin and\nhis brother where he rode. Anon Balin and his brother met with the\nking, and smote him down, and wounded him fiercely, and laid him to the\nground, and there they slew on the right hand and the left hand, and\nslew more than forty of his men; and the remnant fled. Then went they\nagain to king Ryons, and would have slain him had he not yielded him\nunto their grace. Then said he thus: Knights full of prowess, slay me\nnot, for by my life ye may win, and by my death ye shall win nothing.\nThen said these two knights, Ye say sooth and truth; and so laid him on\nan horse-litter. With that Merlin was vanished, and came to king\nArthur, aforehand, and told him how his most enemy was taken and\ndiscomfited. By whom? said king Arthur. By two knights, said Merlin,\nthat would please your lordship, and to-morrow ye shall know what\nknights they are. Anon after came the knight with the two swords, and\nBalan his brother, and brought with them king Ryons of North Wales, and\nthere delivered him to the porters, and charged them with him; and so\nthey two returned again in the dawning of the day. King Arthur came\nthen to king Ryons and said, Sir king ye are welcome: by what adventure\ncome ye hither? Sir, said king Ryons, I came hither by an hard\nadventure. Who won you? said king Arthur. Sir, said the king, the\nknight with the two swords and his brother, which are two marvellous\nknights of prowess. I know them not, said Arthur, but much I am\nbeholden to them. Ah, said Merlin, I shall tell you, it is Balin that\nachieved the sword, and his brother Balan, a good knight, there liveth\nnot a better of prowess, and of worthiness; and it shall be the\ngreatest dole of him that ever I knew of knight, for he shall not long\nendure. Alas, said king Arthur, that is great pity, for I am much\nbeholden unto him, and I have ill deserved it unto him for his\nkindness. Nay, said Merlin, he shall do much more for you, and that\nshall ye know in haste. But, Sir, are ye purveyed? said Merlin; for\nto-morn the host of Nero, king Ryons\u2019s brother, will set on you or noon\nwith a great host, and therefore make you ready, for I will depart from\nyou.\n_How king Arthur had a battle against Nero and king Lot of Orkney, and\n how king Lot was deceived by Merlin, and how twelve kings were slain._\nThen king Arthur made ready his host in ten battles, and Nero was ready\nin the field afore the castle Terrabil with a great host, for he had\nten battles, with many more people than Arthur had. Then Nero had the\nvaward with the most party of his people: and Merlin came to king Lot\nof the Isle of Orkney, and held him with a tale of prophecy till Nero\nand his people were destroyed. And there Sir Kay the seneschal did\npassingly well, that the days of his life the worship went never from\nhim. And Sir Hervis de Revel did marvellous deeds with king Arthur, and\nking Arthur slew that day twenty knights and maimed forty. At that time\ncame in the knight with the two swords, and his brother Balan, but they\ntwo did so marvellously that the king and all the knights marvelled of\nthem, and all they that beheld them said they were sent from heaven as\nangels, or devils from hell: and king Arthur said himself they were the\nbest knights that ever he saw, for they gave such strokes that all men\nhad wonder of them. In the meanwhile came one to king Lot, and told him\nwhile he tarried there Nero was destroyed and slain with all his\npeople. Alas, said king Lot, I am ashamed, for by my default there is\nmany a worshipful man slain, for and we had been together there had\nbeen none host under the heaven that had been able for to have matched\nwith us: this deceiver with his prophecy hath mocked me. All that did\nMerlin, for he knew well that if king Lot had been with his body there\nat the first battle, king Arthur had been slain and all his people\ndestroyed. And well Merlin knew that one of the kings should be dead\nthat day; and loth was Merlin that any of them both should be slain,\nbut of the twain he had lever king Lot had been slain than king Arthur.\nNow what is best to do? said king Lot of Orkney, whether is me better\nto treat with king Arthur or to fight, for the greater part of our\npeople are slain and destroyed. Sir, said a knight, set on Arthur, for\nthey are weary and for-foughten, and we be fresh. As for me, said king\nLot, I would that every knight would do his part as I would do mine.\nAnd then they advanced banners and smote together, and all to-shivered\ntheir spears; and Arthur\u2019s knights, with the help of the knight with\nthe two swords and his brother Balan, put king Lot and his host to the\nworse. But alway king Lot held him in the foremost front, and did\nmarvellous deeds of arms, for all his host was borne up by his hands,\nfor he abode all knights. Alas, he might not endure, the which was\ngreat pity, that so worthy a knight as he was should be overmatched,\nthat of late time afore had been a knight of king Arthur\u2019s, and wedded\nthe sister of king Arthur, and for the wrong king Arthur did him\ntherefore king Lot held against Arthur. So there was a knight that was\ncalled the knight with the strange beast, and at that time his right\nname was called Pellinore, the which was a good man of prowess, and he\nsmote a mighty stroke at king Lot as he fought with all his enemies,\nand he failed of his stroke, and he smote the horse\u2019s neck, that he\nfell to the ground with king Lot; and therewith anon Sir Pellinore\nsmote him a great stroke through the helm and head unto the brows. And\nthen all the host of Orkney fled for the death of king Lot; and there\nwere slain many mothers\u2019 sons. But king Pellinore bare the blame of the\ndeath of king Lot, wherefore Sir Gawaine revenged the death of his\nfather the tenth year after he was made knight, and slew king Pellinore\nwith his own hands. Also there were slain at that battle twelve kings\non the side of king Lot with Nero, and all were buried in the church of\nSaint Stephen\u2019s, in Camelot; and the remnant of knights and of other\nwere buried in a great rock.\n_Of the interment of twelve kings, and of the prophecy of Merlin, and\n how Balin should give the dolorous stroke._\nSo at the interment came king Lot\u2019s wife Morgause, with her four sons,\nGawaine, Agravaine, Gaheris, and Gareth. Also there came thither king\nUriens, Sir Ewaine\u2019s father, and Morgan le Fay his wife, that was king\nArthur\u2019s sister. All these came to the interment. But of all these\ntwelve kings king Arthur let make the tomb of king Lot passing richly,\nand made his tomb by his own; and then king Arthur let make twelve\nimages of laton and copper, and over-gilt it with gold, in the sign of\ntwelve kings, and each one of them held a taper of wax that burnt day\nand night: and king Arthur was made in sign of a figure standing above\nthem with a sword drawn in his hand: and all the twelve figures had\ncountenance like unto men that were overcome. All this made Merlin by\nhis subtil craft; and there he told the king, When I am dead these\ntapers shall burn no longer; and soon after the adventures of the\nSangreal shall come among you and be achieved. Also he told Arthur how\nBalin the worshipful knight shall give the dolorous stroke, whereof\nshall fall great vengeance. O where is Balin, and Balan, and Pellinore?\nsaid king Arthur. As for Pellinore, said Merlin, he will meet with you\nsoon: and as for Balin, he will not be long from you: but the other\nbrother will depart; ye shall see him no more. By my faith, said\nArthur, they are two marvellous knights, and namely Balin passeth of\nprowess of any knight that ever I found, for much beholden am I unto\nhim; would that he would abide with me. Sir, said Merlin, look ye keep\nwell the scabbard of Excalibur, for ye shall lose no blood while ye\nhave the scabbard upon you, though ye have as many wounds upon you as\nye may have. So after, for great trust Arthur betook the scabbard to\nMorgan le Fay his sister, and she loved another knight better than her\nhusband king Uriens or king Arthur, and she would have had Arthur her\nbrother slain, and therefore she let make another scabbard like it by\nenchantment, and gave the scabbard of Excalibur to her love. And the\nknight\u2019s name was called Accolon, that after had near slain king\nArthur. After this Merlin told unto king Arthur of the prophecy that\nthere should be a great battle beside Salisbury, and that Mordred his\nsister\u2019s son should be against him. Also he told him that Basdemegus\nwas his cousin, and germain unto king Uriens.\n_How a sorrowful knight came tofore king Arthur, and how Balin fetched\n him, and how that knight was slain by a knight invisible._\nWithin a day or two king Arthur was somewhat sick, and he let pitch his\npavilion in a meadow, and there he laid him down on a pallet to sleep,\nbut he might have no rest. Right so he heard a great noise of an horse,\nand therewith the king looked out at the porch of the pavilion, and saw\na knight coming even by him making great dole. Abide, fair sir, said\nArthur, and tell me wherefore thou makest this sorrow? Ye may little\namend me, said the knight, and so passed forth to the castle of Meliot.\nAnon after there came Balin, and when he saw king Arthur he alight off\nhis horse, and came to the king on foot, and saluted him. By my head,\nsaid Arthur, ye be welcome. Sir, right now came riding this way a\nknight making great mourn, for what cause I cannot tell, wherefore I\nwould desire of you of your courtesy and of your gentleness to fetch\nagain that knight either by force or else by his good-will. I will do\nmore for your lordship than that, said Balin: and so he rode more than\na pace, and found the knight with a damsel in a forest, and said, Sir\nknight, ye must come with me unto king Arthur, for to tell him of your\nsorrow. That will I not, said the knight, for it will scathe me\ngreatly, and do you none avail. Sir, said Balin, I pray you make you\nready, for ye must go with me, or else I must fight with you and bring\nyou by force, and that were me loth to do. Will ye be my warrant, said\nthe knight, and I go with you? Yea, said Balin, or else I will die\ntherefore. And so he made him ready to go with Balin, and left the\ndamsel still. And as they were even afore king Arthur\u2019s pavilion there\ncame one invisible, and smote this knight that went with Balin\nthroughout the body with a spear. Alas, said the knight, I am slain\nunder your conduct, with a knight called Garlon: therefore take my\nhorse, that is better than your\u2019s, and ride to the damsel, and follow\nthe quest that I was in as she will lead you, and revenge my death when\nye may. That shall I do, said Balin, and that I make a vow unto\nknighthood. And so he departed from this knight with great sorrow. So\nking Arthur let bury this knight richly, and made a mention on his tomb\nhow there was slain Herlews le Berbeus, and by whom the treachery was\ndone,\u2014the knight Garlon. But ever the damsel bare the truncheon of the\nspear with her that Sir Herlews was slain withal.\n_How Balin and the damsel met with a knight which was in likewise\n slain, and how the damsel bled for the custom of a castle._\nSo Balin and the damsel rode into a forest, and there met with a knight\nthat had been on hunting, and that knight asked Balin for what cause he\nmade so great sorrow. Me list not to tell you, said Balin. Now, said\nthe knight, and I were armed as ye be I would fight with you. That\nshould little need, said Balin; I am not afeard to tell you; and told\nhim all the cause, how it was. Ah, said the knight, is this all: here I\nensure you by the faith of my body never to depart from you while my\nlife lasteth. And so they went to the hostry and armed them, and so\nrode forth with Balin. And as they came by an hermitage even by a\nchurchyard, there came the knight Garlon invisible, and smote this\nknight, Perin de Mountbeliard, through the body with a spear. Alas,\nsaid the knight, I am slain by this traitor knight that rideth\ninvisible. Alas, said Balin, it is not the first despite that he hath\ndone me. And there the hermit and Balin buried the knight under a rich\nstone, and a tomb royal. And on the morn they found letters of gold\nwritten, how Sir Gawaine shall revenge his father\u2019s death, king Lot, on\nthe king Pellinore. Anon after this Balin and the damsel rode till they\ncame to a castle, and there Balin alighted, and he and the damsel wend\nto go into the castle. And anon as Balin came within the castle gate\nthe portcullis fell down at his back, and there fell many men about the\ndamsel, and would have slain her. When Balin saw that, he was sore\ngrieved, for he might not help the damsel. And then he went up into the\ntower, and lept over the walls into the ditch, and hurt him not; and\nanon he pulled out his sword, and would have foughten with them. And\nthey all said nay, they would not fight with him, for they did nothing\nbut the old custom of the castle, and told him how their lady was sick,\nand had lain many years, and she might not be whole, but if she had a\ndish of silver full of blood of a maid and a king\u2019s daughter; and\ntherefore the custom of this castle is that there shall no damsel pass\nthis way, but that she shall bleed of her blood in a silver dish full.\nWell, said Balin, she shall bleed as much as she may bleed, but I will\nnot lose the life of her while my life lasteth. And so Balin made her\nto bleed by her good-will, but her blood helped not the lady. And so he\nand she rested there all night, and had there right good cheer, and on\nthe morn they passed on their ways. And as it telleth after in the\nSangreal, that Sir Percivale\u2019s sister helped that lady with her blood,\nwhereof she died.\n_How Balin met with that knight named Garlon at a feast, and there he\n slew him, to have his blood to heal therewith the son of his host._\nThen they rode three or four days and never met with adventure, and by\nhap they were lodged with a gentleman that was a rich man and well at\nease. And as they sat at their supper, Balin heard one complain\ngrievously by him in a chair. What is this noise? said Balin. Forsooth,\nsaid his host, I will tell you. I was but late at a justing, and there\nI justed with a knight that is brother unto king Pellam, and twice\nsmote I him down; and then he promised to quit me on my best friend,\nand so he wounded my son, that cannot be whole till I have of that\nknight\u2019s blood, and he rideth alway invisible, but I know not his name.\nAh, said Balin, I know that knight, his name is Garlon, he hath slain\ntwo knights of mine in the same manner, therefore I had rather meet\nwith that knight than all the gold in this realm, for the despite he\nhath done me. Well, said his host, I shall tell you, king Pellam of\nListeneise hath made cry in all this country a great feast that shall\nbe within these twenty days, and no knight may come there but if he\nbring his wife with him, or his love; and that knight, your enemy and\nmine, ye shall see that day. Then I promise you, said Balin, part of\nhis blood to heal your son withal. We will be forward to-morrow, said\nhis host. So on the morn they rode all three toward Pellam, and they\nhad fifteen days\u2019 journey or they came thither; and that same day began\nthe great feast. And so they alight and stabled their horses, and went\ninto the castle; but Balin\u2019s host might not be let in because he had no\nlady. Then Balin was well received, and brought unto a chamber and\nunarmed him, and they brought him robes to his pleasure, and would have\nhad Balin leave his sword behind him. Nay, said Balin, that do I not,\nfor it is the custom of my country a knight alway to keep his weapon\nwith him, and that custom will I keep, or else I will depart as I came.\nThen they gave him leave to wear his sword, and so he went unto the\ncastle, and was set among knights of worship, and his lady afore him.\nSoon Balin asked a knight, Is there not a knight in this court whose\nname is Garlon? Yonder he goeth, said a knight, he with the black face;\nhe is the marvellest knight that is now living, for he destroyeth many\ngood knights, for he goeth invisible. Ah, well, said Balin, is that he?\nThen Balin advised him long:\u2014If I slay him here I shall not escape,\nand if I leave him now peradventure I shall never meet with him again\nat such a good time, and much harm he will do and he live. Therewith\nthis Garlon espied that this Balin beheld him, and then he came and\nsmote Balin on the face with the back of his hand, and said, Knight,\nwhy beholdest thou me so? for shame, therefore, eat thy meat, and do\nthat thou came for. Thou sayest sooth, said Balin, this is not the\nfirst despite that thou hast done me, and therefore I will do that I\ncame for; and rose up fiercely, and clave his head to the shoulders.\nGive me the truncheon, said Balin to his lady, wherewith he slew your\nknight. Anon she gave it him, for alway she bare the truncheon with\nher; and therewith Balin smote him through the body, and said openly,\nWith that truncheon thou hast slain a good knight, and now it sticketh\nin thy body. And then Balin called to him his host, saying, Now may ye\nfetch blood enough to heal your son withal.\n_How Balin fought with king Pellam, and how his sword brake, and how he\n gat a spear wherewith he smote the dolorous stroke._\nAnon all the knights arose from the table for to set on Balin. And king\nPellam himself arose up fiercely, and said, Knight, hast thou slain my\nbrother? thou shalt die therefore or thou depart. Well, said Balin, do\nit yourself. Yes, said king Pellam, there shall no man have ado with\nthee but myself, for the love of my brother. Then king Pellam caught in\nhis hand a grim weapon and smote eagerly at Balin, but Balin put the\nsword betwixt his head and the stroke, and therewith his sword burst in\nsunder. And when Balin was weaponless he ran into a chamber for to seek\nsome weapon, and so from chamber to chamber, and no weapon he could\nfind, and alway king Pellam after him. And at the last he entered into\na chamber that was marvellously well dight and richly, and a bed\narrayed with cloth of gold, the richest that might be thought, and one\nlying therein, and thereby stood a table of clean gold, with four\npillars of silver that bare up the table, and upon the table stood a\nmarvellous spear, strangely wrought. And when Balin saw that spear he\ngat it in his hand, and turned him to king Pellam, and smote him\npassingly sore with that spear, that king Pellam fell down in a swoon,\nand therewith the castle roof and walls brake and fell to the earth,\nand Balin fell down so that he might not stir foot nor hand. And so the\nmost part of the castle that was fallen down through that dolorous\nstroke lay upon Pellam and Balin three days.\n_How Balin was delivered by Merlin, and saved a knight that would have\n slain himself for love._\nThen Merlin came thither and took up Balin, and gat him a good horse,\nfor his was dead, and bade him ride out of that country. I would have\nmy damsel, said Balin. Lo, said Merlin, where she lieth dead. And king\nPellam lay so many years sore wounded, and might never be whole, till\nGalahad, the haut prince, healed him in the quest of the Sangreal; for\nin that place was part of the blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, that\nJoseph of Arimathea brought into this land, and there himself lay in\nthat rich bed. And that was the same spear that Longius smote our Lord\nto the heart; and king Pellam was nigh of Joseph\u2019s kin, and that was\nthe most worshipful man that lived in those days, and great pity it was\nof his hurt, for that stroke turned to great dole, trouble, and grief.\nThen departed Balin from Merlin, and said, In this world we meet never\nno more. So he rode forth through the fair countries and cities, and\nfound the people dead, slain on every side. And all that were alive\ncried, O Balin, thou hast caused great damage in these countries; for\nthe dolorous stroke thou gavest unto king Pellam three countries are\ndestroyed, and doubt not but the vengeance will fall on thee at the\nlast. When Balin was past those countries he was passing glad. So he\nrode eight days or he met with adventure. And at the last he came into\na fair forest in a valley, and was ware of a tower, and there beside he\nsaw a great horse of war tied to a tree, and there beside sat a fair\nknight on the ground and made great mourning; and he was a likely man\nand a well made. Balin said, God save you, why be ye so heavy? tell me,\nand I will amend it and I may to my power. Sir knight, said he again,\nthou doest me great grief, for I was in merry thoughts, and now thou\nputtest me to more pain. Balin went a little from him, and looked on\nhis horse; then heard Balin him say thus: Ah, fair lady, why have ye\nbroken my promise, for thou promisedst me to meet me here by noon, and\nI may curse thee that ever ye gave me this sword, for with this sword I\nslay myself,\u2014and pulled it out; and therewith Balin start unto him,\nand took him by the hand. Let go my hand, said the knight, or else I\nshall slay thee. That shall not need, said Balin, for I shall promise\nyou my help to get you your lady, and ye will tell me where she is.\nWhat is your name? said the knight. My name is Balin le Savage. Ah,\nsir, I know you well enough; ye are the knight with the two swords, and\nthe man of most prowess of your hands living. What is your name? said\nBalin. My name is Garnish of the Mount, a poor man\u2019s son, but by my\nprowess and hardiness a duke hath made me knight, and gave me lands;\nhis name is duke Hermel, and his daughter is she that I love, and she\nme as I deemed. How far is she hence? said Balin. But six mile, said\nthe knight. Now ride we hence, said these two knights. So they rode\nmore than a pace till they came to a fair castle, well walled and\nditched. I will into the castle, said Balin, and look if she be there.\nSo he went in, and searched from chamber to chamber, and found her bed,\nbut she was not there; then Balin looked into a fair little garden, and\nunder a laurel tree he saw her lie upon a quilt of green samite, and a\nknight with her, and under their heads grass and herbs. When Balin saw\nher with the foulest knight that ever he saw, and she a fair lady, then\nBalin went through all the chambers again, and told the knight how he\nfound her, as she had slept fast, and so brought him in the place where\nshe lay fast sleeping.\n_How that knight slew his love and a knight with her, and after how he\n slew himself with his own sword, and how Balin rode toward a castle\n where he lost his life._\nAnd when Garnish beheld her so lying, for pure sorrow his mouth and\nnose burst out on bleeding, and with his sword he smote off both their\nheads, and then he made sorrow out of measure and said, Oh Balin, much\nsorrow hast thou brought unto me, for hadst thou not shewn me that\nsight I should have passed my sorrow. Forsooth, said Balin, I did it to\nthis intent that it should better thy courage, and that ye might see\nand know her falsehood, and to cause you to leave love of such a lady:\ntruly I did none other but as I would ye did to me. Alas! said Garnish,\nnow is my sorrow double that I may not endure: now have I slain that I\nmost loved in all my life. And therewith suddenly he rove himself on\nhis own sword unto the hilts. When Balin saw that, he dressed him\nthenceward, lest folks would say he had slain them, and so he rode\nforth, and within three days he came by a cross, and thereon were\nletters of gold written that said, It is not for any knight alone to\nride toward this castle. Then saw he an old hoar gentleman coming\ntoward him that said, Balin le Savage, thou passest thy bounds to come\nthis way, therefore turn again and it will avail thee. And he vanished\naway anon; and so he heard an horn blow as it had been the death of a\nbeast. That blast, said Balin, is blown for me, for I am the prize, yet\nam I not dead. Anon withal he saw an hundred ladies and many knights,\nthat welcomed him with fair semblance, and made him passing good cheer\nunto his sight, and led him into the castle, and there was dancing and\nminstrelsy, and all manner of joy. Then the chief lady of the castle\nsaid, Knight with the two swords, ye must have ado with a knight hereby\nthat keepeth an island, for there may no man pass this way but he must\njust or he pass. That is an unhappy custom, said Balin, that a knight\nmay not pass this way but if he just. Ye shall not have ado but with\none knight, said the lady. Well, said Balin, since I shall, thereto am\nI ready, but travelling men are oft weary, and their horses also; but\nthough my horse be weary my heart is not weary. I would be fain there\nmy death should be. Sir, said a knight to Balin, me thinketh your\nshield is not good, I will lend you a bigger: therefore I pray you: and\nso he took the shield that was unknown and left his own, and so rode\nunto the island, and put him and his horse in a great boat, and when he\ncame on the other side he met with a damsel, and she said, O knight\nBalin, why have ye left your own shield? alas! ye have put your self in\ngreat danger, for by your shield ye should have been known: it is great\npity of you as ever was of knight, for of thy prowess and hardiness\nthou hast no fellow living. Me repenteth, said Balin, that ever I came\nwithin this country, but I may not turn now again for shame, and what\nadventure shall fall to me, be it life or death, I will take the\nadventure that shall come to me. And then he looked on his armour, and\nunderstood he was well armed, and therewith blessed him, and mounted\nupon his horse.\n_How Balin met with his brother Balan, and how each of them slew other\n unknown, till they were wounded to death._\nThen afore him he saw come riding out of a castle a knight, and his\nhorse trapped all red, and himself in the same colour. When this knight\nin the red beheld Balin, him thought it should be his brother Balin\nbecause of his two swords, but because he knew not his shield, he\ndeemed it was not he. And so they aventred their spears, and came\nmarvellously fast together, and they smote each other in the shields,\nbut their spears and their course were so big that it bare down horse\nand man, that they lay both in a swoon. But Balin was bruised sore with\nthe fall of his horse, for he was weary of travel. And Balan was the\nfirst that rose on foot and drew his sword, and went toward Balin, and\nhe arose and went against him, but Balan smote Balin first, and he put\nup his shield, and smote him through the shield and cleft his helm.\nThen Balin smote him again with that unhappy sword, and well nigh had\nfelled his brother Balan, and so they fought there together till their\nbreaths failed. Then Balin looked up to the castle, and saw the towers\nstand full of ladies. So they went to battle again, and wounded each\nother dolefully, and then they breathed oft-times, and so went unto\nbattle, that all the place there as they fought was blood red. And at\nthat time there was none of them both but they had either smitten other\nseven great wounds, so that the least of them might have been the death\nof the mightiest giant in this world. Then they went to battle again so\nmarvellously that doubt it was to hear of that battle for the great\nbloodshedding, and their hauberks unnailed, that naked they were on\nevery side. At the last Balan, the younger brother, withdrew him a\nlittle and laid him down. Then said Balin le Savage, What knight art\nthou? for or now I found never no knight that matched me. My name is,\nsaid he, Balan, brother to the good knight Balin. Alas! said Balin,\nthat ever I should see this day. And therewith he fell backward in a\nswoon. Then Balan went on all four feet and hands, and put off the helm\nof his brother, and might not know him by the visage it was so full\nhewen and bled; but when he awoke he said, O Balan, my brother, thou\nhast slain me and I thee, wherefore all the wide world shall speak of\nus both. Alas! said Balan, that ever I saw this day, that through\nmishap I might not know you, for I espied well your two swords, but\nbecause ye had another shield I deemed you had been another knight.\nAlas! said Balin, all that made an unhappy knight in the castle, for he\ncaused me to leave mine own shield to our both\u2019s destruction, and if I\nmight live I would destroy that castle for ill customs. That were well\ndone, said Balan, for I had never grace to depart from them since that\nI came hither, for here it happed me to slay a knight that kept this\nisland, and since might I never depart, and no more should ye brother,\nand ye might have slain me as ye have, and escaped yourself with the\nlife. Right so came the lady of the tower with four knights and six\nladies and six yeomen unto them, and there she heard how they made\ntheir moan either to other, and said, We came both out of one womb, and\nso shall we lye both in one pit. So Balan prayed the lady of her\ngentleness, for his true service that she would bury them both in that\nsame place there the battle was done. And she granted them with weeping\nit should be done richly in the best manner. Now will ye send for a\npriest, that we may receive our sacrament and receive the blessed body\nof our Lord Jesus Christ. Yea, said the lady, it shall be done. And so\nshe sent for a priest and gave them their rites. Now, said Balin, when\nwe are buried in one tomb, and the mention made over us how two\nbrethren slew each other, there will never good knight nor good man see\nour tomb but they will pray for our souls. And so all the ladies and\ngentlewomen wept for pity. Then, anon Balan died, but Balin died not\ntill the midnight after, and so were they buried both, and the lady let\nmake a mention of Balan how he was there slain by his brother\u2019s hands,\nbut she knew not Balin\u2019s name.\n_How Merlin buried them both in one tomb, and of Balin\u2019s sword._\nIn the morn came Merlin and let write Balin\u2019s name upon the tomb, with\nletters of gold, That here lieth Balin le Savage, that was the knight\nwith the two swords, and he that smote the dolorous stroke. Also Merlin\nlet make there a bed, that there should never man lye therein but he\nwent out of his wit, yet Launcelot de Lake fordid that bed through his\nnobleness. And anon after Balin was dead, Merlin took his sword and\ntook off the pommel, and set on another pommel. So Merlin bad a knight\nthat stood afore him to handle that sword, and he assayed, and he might\nnot handle it. Then Merlin laughed. Why laugh ye? said the knight. This\nis the cause, said Merlin: there shall never man handle this sword but\nthe best knight of the world, and that shall be Sir Launcelot, or else\nGalahad his son, and Launcelot with this sword shall slay the man that\nin the world he loved best, that shall be Sir Gawaine. All this he let\nwrite in the pommel of the sword. Then Merlin let make a bridge of iron\nand of steel into that island, and it was but half a foot broad, and\nthere shall never man pass that bridge, nor have hardiness to go over,\nbut if he were a passing good man and a good knight without treachery\nor villainy. Also the scabbard of Balin\u2019s sword Merlin left it on this\nside the island that Galahad should find it. Also Merlin let make by\nhis subtilty that Balin\u2019s sword was put in a marble stone standing\nupright as great as a millstone, and the stone hoved always above the\nwater, and did many years, and so by adventure it swam down the stream\nto the city of Camelot, that is in English Winchester. And that same\nday Galahad the haut prince came with king Arthur, and so Galahad\nbrought with him the scabbard, and achieved the sword that was there in\nthe marble stone hoving upon the water. And on Whitsunday he achieved\nthe sword, as it is rehearsed in the book of the Sangreal. Soon after\nthis was done Merlin came to king Arthur and told him of the dolorous\nstroke that Balin gave to king Pellam, and how Balin and Balan fought\ntogether the most marvellous battle that ever was heard of, and how\nthey were buried both in one tomb. Alas! said king Arthur, this is the\ngreatest pity that ever I heard tell of two knights, for in the world I\nknow not such two knights. Thus endeth the tale of Balin and Balan, two\nbrethren born in Northumberland, good knights.\n_How king Arthur took a wife, and wedded Guenever daughter to\n Leodegrance, king of the land of Cameliard, with whom he had the\n Round Table._\nIn the beginning of Arthur, after he was chosen king by adventure and\nby grace,\u2014for the most part of the barons knew not that he was Uther\nPendragon\u2019s son, but as Merlin made it openly known,\u2014many kings and\nlords made great war against him for that cause; but well Arthur\novercame them all; for the most part of the days of his life he was\nruled much by the counsel of Merlin. So it fell on a time king Arthur\nsaid unto Merlin, My barons will let me have no rest, but needs I must\ntake a wife, and I will none take but by thy counsel and by thine\nadvice. It is well done, said Merlin, that ye take a wife, for a man of\nyour bounty and nobleness should not be without a wife. Now is there\nany that ye love more than another? Yea, said king Arthur, I love\nGuenever, the daughter of king Leodegrance, of the land of Cameliard,\nwhich Leodegrance holdeth in his house the Table Round, that ye told he\nhad of my father, Uther. And this damsel is the most valiant and\nfairest lady that I know living, or yet that ever I could find. Sir,\nsaid Merlin, as of her beauty and fairness she is one of the fairest on\nlive. But and ye loved her not so well as ye do, I could find you a\ndamsel of beauty and of goodness that should like you and please you,\nand your heart were not set; but there as a man\u2019s heart is set, he will\nbe loth to return. That is truth, said king Arthur. But Merlin warned\nthe king covertly that Guenever was not wholesome for him to take to\nwife, for he warned him that Launcelot should love her, and she him\nagain; and so he turned his tale to the adventures of the Sangreal.\nThen Merlin desired of the king to have men with him that should\nenquire of Guenever, and so the king granted him. And Merlin went forth\nto king Leodegrance of Cameliard, and told him of the desire of the\nking that he would have unto his wife Guenever his daughter. That is to\nme, said king Leodegrance, the best tidings that ever I heard, that so\nworthy a king of prowess and noblesse will wed my daughter. And as for\nmy lands I will give him wist I it might please him, but he hath lands\nenough, him needeth none, but I shall send him a gift shall please him\nmuch more, for I shall give him the Table Round, the which Uther\nPendragon gave me, and when it is full complete there is an hundred\nknights and fifty. And as for an hundred good knights I have myself,\nbut I lack fifty, for so many have been slain in my days. And so king\nLeodegrance delivered his daughter Guenever unto Merlin, and the Table\nRound, with the hundred knights, and so they rode freshly, with great\nroyalty, what by water and what by land, till that they came nigh unto\nLondon.\n_How the knights of the Round Table were ordained, and their sieges\n blessed by the bishop of Canterbury._\nWhen king Arthur heard of the coming of Guenever and the hundred\nknights with the Table Round, then king Arthur made great joy for their\ncoming, and that rich present, and said openly, This fair lady is\npassing welcome unto me, for I have loved her long, and therefore there\nis nothing so lief to me. And these knights with the Round Table please\nme more than right great riches. And in all haste the king let ordain\nfor the marriage and the coronation in the most honourablest wise that\ncould be devised. Now Merlin, said king Arthur, go thou and espy me in\nall this land fifty knights which be of most prowess and worship.\nWithin short time Merlin had found such knights that should fulfil\ntwenty and eight knights, but no more he could find. Then the bishop of\nCanterbury was fetched, and he blessed the sieges with great royalty\nand devotion, and there set the eight and twenty knights in their\nsieges. And when this was done Merlin said, Fair sirs, ye must all\narise and come to king Arthur for to do him homage; he will have the\nbetter will to maintain you. And so they arose and did their homage.\nAnd when they were gone Merlin found in every siege letters of gold\nthat told the knights\u2019 names that had sitten therein. But two sieges\nwere void. And so anon came young Gawaine, and asked the king a gift.\nAsk, said the king, and I shall grant it you. Sir, I ask that ye will\nmake me knight that same day ye shall wed fair Guenever. I will do it\nwith a good will, said king Arthur, and do unto you all the worship\nthat I may, for I must by reason you are my nephew, my sister\u2019s son.\n_How a poor man riding upon a lean mare desired king Arthur to make his\n son knight._\nForthwithal there came a poor man into the court, and brought with him\na fair young man of eighteen year of age, riding upon a lean mare. And\nthe poor man asked all men that he met, Where shall I find king Arthur?\nYonder he is, said the knights, wilt thou anything with him? Yea, said\nthe poor man, therefore I came hither. Anon as he came before the king,\nhe saluted him and said: O king Arthur, the flower of all knights and\nkings, I beseech Jesu save thee: Sir, it was told me that at this time\nof your marriage ye would give any man the gift that he would ask out,\nexcept that were unreasonable. That is truth, said the king, such cries\nI let make, and that will I hold, so it impair not my realm nor mine\nestate. Ye say well and graciously, said the poor man: Sir, I ask\nnothing else but that ye will make my son here a knight. It is a great\nthing that thou askest of me: what is thy name? said the king to the\npoor man. Sir, my name is Aries the cowherd. Whether cometh this of\nthee or of thy son? said the king. Nay Sir, said Aries, this desire\ncometh of my son and not of me. For I shall tell you I have thirteen\nsons, and all they will fall to what labour I put them to, and will be\nright glad to do labour, but this child will do no labour for me, for\nanything that my wife or I may do, but always he will be shooting or\ncasting darts, and glad for to see battles, and to behold knights; and\nalways day and night he desireth of me to be made a knight. What is thy\nname? said the king unto the young man. Sir, my name is Tor. The king\nbeheld him fast, and saw he was passingly well visaged and passingly\nwell made of his years. Well, said king Arthur to Aries the cowherd,\nfetch all thy sons afore me that I may see them. And so the poor man\ndid, and all were shapen much like the poor man: but Tor was not like\nnone of them all in shape nor in countenance, for he was much more than\nany of them. Now, said king Arthur unto the cowherd, where is the sword\nthat he shall be made knight withal? It is here, said Tor. Take it out\nof the sheath, said the king, and require me to make you a knight. Then\nTor alight off his mare, and pulled out his sword, kneeling, and\nrequiring the king that he would make him knight, and that he might be\na knight of the Table Round. As for a knight I will make you; and\ntherewith smote him in the neck with the sword, saying, Be ye a good\nknight, and so I pray to God so ye may be, and if ye be of prowess and\nof worthiness ye shall be a knight of the Table Round. Now Merlin, said\nArthur, say whether this Tor shall be a good knight or no. Yea, sir, he\nought to be a good knight, for he is come of as good a man as any is on\nlive, and of king\u2019s blood. How so, sir? said the king. I shall tell\nyou, said Merlin: this poor man, Aries the cowherd, is not his father,\nhe is nothing like to him, for king Pellinore is his father. I suppose\nnay, said the cowherd. Fetch thy wife afore me, said Merlin, and she\nshall not say nay. Anon, the wife was fetched, which was a fair\nhouse-wife, and there she answered Merlin full womanly. And there she\ntold the king and Merlin that when she was a maid, and went to milk\nkine, There met with me a stern knight, and half by force he held me,\nand after that time was born my son Tor, and he took away from me my\ngreyhound that I had that time with me, and said that he would keep the\ngreyhound for my love. Ah, said the cowherd, I wend not this, but I may\nbelieve it well, for he had never no taches of me. Sir, said Tor to\nMerlin, dishonour not my mother. Sir, said Merlin, it is more for your\nworship than hurt, for your father is a good man and a king, and he may\nright well advance you and your mother, for ye were begotten or ever\nshe was wedded. That is truth, said the wife. It is the less grief to\nme, said the cowherd.\n_How Sir Tor was known for son of king Pellinore, and how Gawaine was\n made knight._\nSo on the morn king Pellinore came to the court of king Arthur, which\nhad great joy of him, and told him of Tor, how he was his son, and how\nhe had made him knight at the request of the cowherd. When king\nPellinore beheld Tor he pleased him much. So the king made Gawaine\nknight, but Tor was the first he made at the feast. What is the cause,\nsaid king Arthur, that there be two places void in the sieges? Sir,\nsaid Merlin, there shall no man sit in those places but they that shall\nbe of most worship. But in the Siege Perilous there shall no man sit\ntherein but one, and if there be any so hardy to do it he shall be\ndestroyed, and he that shall sit there shall have no fellow. And\ntherewith Merlin took king Pellinore by the hand, and in the one hand\nnext the two sieges and the Siege Perilous he said, in open audience,\nThis is your place, and best ye are worthy to sit therein of any that\nis here. Thereat sat Sir Gawaine in great envy, and told Gaheris his\nbrother, Yonder knight is put to great worship, the which grieveth me\nsore, for he slew our father king Lot, therefore I will slay him, said\nGawaine, with a sword that was sent me that is passing trenchant. Ye\nshall not so, said Gaheris, at this time; for at this time I am but a\nsquire, and when I am made knight I will be avenged on him; and\ntherefore brother it is best ye suffer till another time, that we may\nhave him out of the court, for and we did so we should trouble this\nhigh feast. I will well, said Gawaine, as ye will.\n_How at the feast of the wedding of king Arthur to Guenever, a white\n hart came into the hall, and thirty couple hounds, and how a brachet\n pinched the hart, which was taken away._\nThen was the high feast made ready, and the king was wedded at Camelot\nunto Dame Guenever in the church of Saint Stephen\u2019s, with great\nsolemnity. And as every man was set after his degree, Merlin went to\nall the knights of the Round Table, and bad them sit still, that none\nof them remove. For ye shall see a strange and a marvellous adventure.\nRight so as they sat there came running in a white hart into the hall,\nand a white brachet next him, and thirty couple of black running hounds\ncame after with a great cry, and the hart went about the Table Round.\nAs he went by other boards, the white brachet bit him by the haunch and\npulled out a piece, where through the hart lept a great leap and\noverthrew a knight that sat at the board side, and therewith the knight\narose and took up the brachet, and so went forth out of the hall, and\ntook his horse and rode his way with the brachet. Right so anon came in\na lady on a white palfrey, and cried aloud to king Arthur, Sir, suffer\nme not to have this despite, for the brachet was mine that the knight\nled away. I may not do therewith, said the king. With this there came a\nknight riding all armed on a great horse, and took the lady away with\nhim with force, and ever she cried and made great dole. When she was\ngone the king was glad, for she made such a noise. Nay, said Merlin, ye\nmay not leave these adventures so lightly, for these adventures must be\nbrought again or else it would be disworship to you and to your feast.\nI will, said the king, that all be done by your advice. Then, said\nMerlin, let call Sir Gawaine, for he must bring again the white hart.\nAlso, sir, ye must let call Sir Tor, for he must bring again the\nbrachet and the knight, or else slay him. Also let call king Pellinore,\nfor he must bring again the lady and the knight, or else slay him. And\nthese three knights shall do marvellous adventures or they come again.\nThen were they called all three as it rehearseth afore, and every each\nof them took his charge, and armed them surely. But Sir Gawaine had the\nfirst request, and therefore we will begin at him.\n_How Sir Gawaine rode for to fetch again the hart, and how two brethren\n fought each against other for the hart._\nSir Gawaine rode more than a pace, and Gaheris his brother rode with\nhim instead of a squire, to do him service. So as they rode they saw\ntwo knights fight on horseback passing sore, so Sir Gawaine and his\nbrother rode betwixt them, and asked them for what cause they fought\nso. The one knight answered and said: We fight for a simple matter, for\nwe two be two brethren, born and begotten of one man and of one woman.\nAlas! said Sir Gawaine, why do ye so? Sir, said the elder, there came a\nwhite hart this way this day, and many hounds chased him, and a white\nbrachet was alway next him, and we understood it was adventure made for\nthe high feast of king Arthur, and therefore I would have gone after to\nhave won me worship; and here my younger brother said he would go after\nthe hart, for he was a better knight than I; and for this cause we fell\nat debate, and so we thought to prove which of us both was better\nknight. This is a simple cause, said Sir Gawaine; strange men ye should\ndebate withal, and not brother with brother; therefore but if ye will\ndo by my counsel I will have ado with you\u2014that is, ye shall yield you\nunto me, and that ye go unto king Arthur and yield you unto his grace.\nSir knight, said the two brethren, we are for-foughten, and much blood\nhave we lost through our wilfulness, and therefore we would be loth to\nhave ado with you. Then do as I will have you, said Sir Gawaine. We\nwill agree to fulfil your will; but by whom shall we say that we be\nthither sent? Ye may say, by the knight that followeth the quest of the\nhart that was white. Now what is your name? said Sir Gawaine. Sorlouse\nof the Forest, said the elder. And my name is, said the younger, Brian\nof the Forest. And so they departed and went to the king\u2019s court, and\nSir Gawaine on his quest. And as Gawaine followed the hart by the cry\nof the hounds, even afore him there was a great river, and the hart\nswam over; and as Sir Gawaine would follow after there stood a knight\nover the other side, and said, Sir knight, come not over after this\nhart, but if thou wilt just with me. I will not fail as for that, said\nSir Gawaine, to follow the quest that I am in, and so made his horse to\nswim over the water, and anon they gat their spears and ran together\nfull hard, but Sir Gawaine smote him off his horse, and then he turned\nhis horse and bad him yield him. Nay, said the knight, not so, though\nthou have the better of me on horseback: I pray thee, valiant knight,\nalight afoot, and match we together with swords. What is your name?\nsaid Sir Gawaine. Allardin of the Isles, said the other. Then either\ndressed their shields and smote together, but Sir Gawaine smote him so\nhard through the helm that it went to the brains, and the knight fell\ndown dead. Ah! said Gaheris, that was a mighty stroke of a young knight.\n_How the hart was chased into a castle, and there slain, and how\n Gawaine slew a lady._\nThen Gawaine and Gaheris rode more than a pace after the white hart,\nand let slip at the hart three couple of greyhounds, and so they chased\nthe hart into a castle, and in the chief place of the castle they slew\nthe hart: Sir Gawaine and Gaheris followed after. Right so there came a\nknight out of a chamber with a sword drawn in his hand and slew two of\nthe greyhounds, even in the sight of Sir Gawaine, and the remnant he\nchased them with his sword out of the castle. And when he came again,\nhe said, O my white hart, me repenteth that thou art dead, for my\nsovereign lady gave thee to me, and evil have I kept thee, and thy\ndeath shall be dear bought and I live. And anon he went into his\nchamber and armed him, and came out fiercely, and there met he with Sir\nGawaine. Why have ye slain my hounds, said Sir Gawaine, for they did\nbut their kind, and lever I had ye had wroken your anger upon me than\nupon a dumb beast. Thou sayst truth, said the knight, I have avenged me\non thy hounds, and so I will on thee or thou go. Then Sir Gawaine\nalight afoot, and dressed his shield, and they stroke together\nmightily, and clave their shields, and stoned their helms, and brake\ntheir hauberks that the blood ran down to their feet. At the last Sir\nGawaine smote the knight so hard that he fell to the earth; and then he\ncried mercy and yielded him, and besought him as he was a knight and\ngentleman to save his life. Thou shalt die, said Sir Gawaine, for\nslaying of my hounds. I will make amends, said the knight, unto my\npower. Sir Gawaine would no mercy have, but unlaced his helm to have\nstriken off his head; right so came his lady out of a chamber and fell\nover him, and so he smote off her head by misadventure. Alas! said\nGaheris, that is foul and shamefully done; that shame shall never from\nyou. Also, ye should give mercy unto them that ask mercy; for a knight\nwithout mercy is without worship. Sir Gawaine was so astonied at the\ndeath of this fair lady that he wist not what he did, and said unto the\nknight, Arise, I will give thee mercy. Nay, nay, said the knight, I\ncare for no mercy now, for thou hast slain my love and my lady that I\nloved best of all earthly things. Me repenteth it, said Sir Gawaine,\nfor I thought to strike unto thee. But now thou shalt go unto king\nArthur, and tell him of thine adventures, and how thou art overcome by\nthe knight that went in the quest of the white hart. I take no force,\nsaid the knight, whether I live or die. But so for dread of death he\nswore to go unto king Arthur: and he made him to bear one greyhound\nbefore him on his horse, and another behind him. What is your name,\nsaid Sir Gawaine, or we part? My name is, said the knight, Ablamor of\nthe Marsh. So he departed toward Camelot.\n_How four knights fought against Sir Gawaine and Gaheris, and how they\n were overcome, and their lives saved at the request of four ladies._\nAnd Sir Gawaine went into the castle, and made him ready to lie there\nall night, and would have unarmed him. What will ye do? said Gaheris,\nwill ye unarm you in this country? ye may think ye have many enemies\nhere. They had not sooner said that word but there came four knights\nwell armed, and assailed Sir Gawaine hard, and said unto him, Thou new\nmade knight, thou hast shamed thy knighthood, for a knight without\nmercy is dishonoured. Also thou hast slain a fair lady to thy great\nshame to the world\u2019s end, and doubt thou not thou shalt have great need\nof mercy or thou depart from us. And therewith one of them smote Sir\nGawaine a great stroke, that nigh he fell to the earth, and Gaheris\nsmote him again sore, and so they were on the one side and on the\nother, that Sir Gawaine and Gaheris were in jeopardy of their lives;\nand one with a bow, an archer, smote Sir Gawaine through the arm that\nit grieved him wonderly sore. And as they should have been slain, there\ncame four ladies and besought the knights of grace for Sir Gawaine. And\ngoodly at the request of the ladies they gave Sir Gawaine and Gaheris\ntheir lives, and made them to yield them as prisoners. Then Gawaine and\nGaheris made great dole. Alas! said Sir Gawaine, mine arm grieveth me\nsore, I am like to be maimed; and so made his complaint piteously.\nEarly on the morrow there came to Sir Gawaine one of the four ladies\nthat had heard all his complaint, and said, Sir knight, what cheer? Not\ngood, said he. It is your own default, said the lady, for ye have done\na passing foul deed in the slaying of the lady, the which will be great\nvillainly unto you. But be ye not of king Arthur\u2019s kin? said the lady.\nYes, truly, said Sir Gawaine. What is your name? said the lady, ye must\ntell it me or ye pass. My name is Gawaine, the king Lot of Orkney\u2019s\nson, and my mother is king Arthur\u2019s sister. Ah, then are ye nephew unto\nking Arthur, said the lady, and I shall so speak for you that ye shall\nhave conduct to go to king Arthur for his love. And so she departed and\ntold the four knights how their prisoner was king Arthur\u2019s nephew, and\nhis name is Sir Gawaine, king Lot\u2019s son of Orkney. And they gave him\nthe hart\u2019s head, because it was in his quest. Then anon they delivered\nSir Gawaine under this promise, that he should bare the dead lady with\nhim in this manner: the head of her was hanged about his neck, and the\nwhole body of her lay before him on his horse mane. Right so rode he\nforth unto Camelot. And anon as he was come, Merlin desired of king\nArthur that Sir Gawaine should be sworn to tell of all his adventures,\nand how he slew the lady, and how he would give no mercy unto the\nknight, where through the lady was slain. Then the king and the queen\nwere greatly displeased with Sir Gawaine for the slaying of the lady.\nAnd there by ordinance of the queen there was set a quest of ladies on\nSir Gawaine, and they judged him for ever while he lived to be with all\nladies, and to fight for their quarrels; and that ever he should be\ncourteous, and never to refuse mercy to him that asketh mercy. Thus was\nGawaine sworn upon the four Evangelists that he should never be against\nlady nor gentlewoman, but if he fought for a lady and his adversary\nfought for another. And thus endeth the adventure of Sir Gawaine, that\nhe did at the marriage of king Arthur. Amen.\n_How Sir Tor rode after the knight with the brachet, and of his\n adventure by the way._\nWhen Sir Tor was ready he mounted upon his horse\u2019s back, and rode after\nthe knight with the brachet. So as he rode he met with a dwarf suddenly\nthat smote his horse on the head with a staff, that he went backward\nhis spear\u2019s length. Why dost thou so? said Sir Tor. For thou shalt not\npass this way, but if thou just with yonder knights of the pavilions.\nThen was Sir Tor ware where two pavilions were, and great spears stood\nout, and two shields hung on trees by the pavilions. I may not tarry,\nsaid Sir Tor, for I am in a quest that I must needs follow. Thou shalt\nnot pass, said the dwarf; and therewithal he blew his horn. Then there\ncame one armed on horseback, and dressed his shield, and came fast\ntoward Tor, and he dressed him against him, and so ran together that\nSir Tor bare him from his horse. And anon the knight yielded him to his\nmercy: But, sir, I have a fellow in yonder pavilion that will have ado\nwith you anon. He shall be welcome, said Sir Tor. Then was he ware of\nanother knight coming with great force, and each of them dressed to\nother that marvel it was to see: but the knight smote Sir Tor a great\nstroke in the midst of the shield that his spear all to-shivered, and\nSir Tor smote him through the shield so low that it went through the\nside of the knight, but the stroke slew him not. And therewith Sir Tor\nalight and smote him on the helm a great stroke, and therewith the\nknight yielded him, and besought him of mercy. I will well, said Sir\nTor; but thou and thy fellow must go unto king Arthur, and yield you\nprisoners unto him. By whom shall we say are we thither sent? Ye shall\nsay by the knight that went in the quest of the knight that went with\nthe brachet. Now what be your two names? said Sir Tor. My name is, said\nthe one, Sir Felot of Langduk. And my name is, said the other, Sir\nPetipase of Winchelsea. Now go ye forth, said Sir Tor, and God speed\nyou and me. Then came the dwarf and said unto Sir Tor: I pray you give\nme a gift. I will well, said Sir Tor: ask. I ask no more, said the\ndwarf, but that ye will suffer me to do you service, for I will serve\nno more recreant knights. Take an horse, said Sir Tor, and ride on with\nme. I wot ye ride after the knight with the white brachet, and I shall\nbring you where he is, said the dwarf. And so they rode throughout a\nforest, and at the last they were ware of two pavilions even by a\npriory, with two shields, and the one shield was renewed with white,\nand the other shield was red.\n_How Sir Tor found the brachet with a lady, and how a knight assailed\n him for the said brachet._\nTherewith Sir Tor alighted and gave the dwarf his glaive, and so came\nto the white pavilion, and saw three damsels lie in it on one pallet\nsleeping. And so he went to the other pavilion, and there he found a\nlady lying sleeping therein. But there was the white brachet, that\nbayed at her fast, and therewith the lady awoke and went out of the\npavilion, and all her damsels. But anon as Sir Tor espied the white\nbrachet he took her by force, and took her to the dwarf. What, will ye\nso, said the lady, take my brachet from me? Yea, said Sir Tor, this\nbrachet have I sought from king Arthur\u2019s court hither. Well, said the\nlady, knight, ye shall not go far with her but that ye shall be met,\nand grieved. I shall abide what adventure that cometh, by the grace of\nGod, and so mounted upon his horse and passed on his way toward\nCamelot; but it was so near night he might not pass but little farther.\nKnow ye any lodging? said Tor. I know none, said the dwarf, but here\nbeside is an hermitage, and there ye must take lodging as ye find. And\nwithin awhile they came to the hermitage and took lodging; and was\nthere grass, oats, and bread, for their horses; soon it was sped, and\nfull hard was their supper; but there they rested them all the night\ntill on the morn, and heard a mass devoutly, and took their leave of\nthe hermit, and Sir Tor prayed the hermit to pray for him. He said he\nwould, and betook him to God: and so he mounted on horseback, and rode\ntowards Camelot a long while. With that they heard a knight call loud\nthat came after them, and he said, Knight, abide and yield my brachet\nthat thou tookest from my lady. Sir Tor returned again and beheld him\nhow he was a seemly knight and well horsed, and well armed at all\npoints; then Sir Tor dressed his shield, and took his spear in his\nhands, and the other came fiercely upon him and smote both horse and\nman to the earth. Anon they arose lightly and drew their swords as\neagerly as lions, and put their shields afore them, and smote through\nthe shields, and the cantels fell off of both parts. Also they hewed\ntheir helms, that the hot blood ran out, and the thick mails of their\nhauberks they carved and rove in sunder, that the hot blood ran to the\nearth, and both they had many wounds and were passing weary. But Sir\nTor espied that the other knight fainted, and then he sued fast upon\nhim, and doubled his strokes, and made him go to the earth on the one\nside. Then Sir Tor bad him yield him. That will I not, said Abelleus,\nwhile my life lasteth and the soul is within my body, unless that thou\nwilt give me the brachet. That will I not do, said Sir Tor, for it was\nmy quest to bring again thy brachet, thee, or both.\n_How Sir Tor overcame the knight, and how he lost his head at the\n request of a lady._\nWith that came a damsel riding on a palfrey as fast as she might drive\nand cried with a loud voice unto Sir Tor. What will ye with me? said\nSir Tor. I beseech thee, said the damsel, for king Arthur\u2019s love, give\nme a gift; I require thee, gentle knight, as thou art a gentleman. Now,\nsaid Sir Tor, ask a gift, and I will give it you. Gramercy, said the\ndamsel. Now, I ask the head of the false knight Abelleus, for he is the\nmost outrageous knight that liveth, and the greatest murderer. I am\nloth, said Sir Tor, of that gift I have given you; let him make amends\nin that he hath trespassed unto you. Now, said the damsel, he may not,\nfor he slew mine own brother afore mine own eyes, that was a better\nknight than he, and he had had grace; and I kneeled half an hour afore\nhim in the mire for to save my brother\u2019s life, that had done him no\ndamage, but fought with him by adventure of arms, and so for all that I\ncould do he struck off his head; wherefore, I require thee, as thou art\na true knight, to give me my gift, or else I shall shame thee in all\nthe court of king Arthur; for he is the falsest knight living, and a\ngreat destroyer of good knights. Then when Abelleus heard this, he was\nmore afeard, and yielded him and asked mercy. I may not now, said Sir\nTor, but if I should be found false of my promise, for while I would\nhave taken you to mercy ye would none ask, but if ye had the brachet\nagain that was my quest. And therewith he took off his helm, and he\narose and fled, and Sir Tor after him, and smote off his head quite.\nNow, sir, said the damsel, it is near night; I pray you come and lodge\nwith me here at my place, it is here fast by. I will well, said Sir\nTor; for his horse and he had fared evil since they departed from\nCamelot, and so he rode with her, and had passing good cheer with her;\nand she had a passing fair old knight to her husband that made him\npassing good cheer, and well eased both his horse and him. And on the\nmorn he heard his mass, and brake his fast, and took his leave of the\nknight and of the lady, that besought him to tell them his name. Truly,\nhe said, my name is Sir Tor, that late was made knight, and this was\nthe first quest of arms that ever I did, to bring again that this\nknight Abelleus took away from king Arthur\u2019s court. O fair knight, said\nthe lady and her husband, and ye come here in our marches, come and see\nour poor lodging, and it shall be always at your commandment. So Sir\nTor departed, and came to Camelot on the third day by noon. And the\nking and the queen and all the court was passing fain of his coming,\nand made great joy that he was come again; for he went from the court\nwith little succour, but as king Pellinore his father gave him an old\ncourser, and king Arthur gave him armour and a sword, and else had he\nnone other succour, but rode so forth himself alone. And then the king\nand the queen by Merlin\u2019s advice made him to swear to tell of his\nadventures, and so he told and made proofs of his deeds as it is afore\nrehearsed, wherefore the king and the queen made great joy. Nay, nay,\nsaid Merlin, these be but jests to that he shall do; he shall prove a\nnoble knight of prowess, as good as any is living, and gentle and\ncourteous, and of good parts, and passing true of his promise, and\nnever shall outrage. Where through Merlin\u2019s words king Arthur gave him\nan earldom of lands that fell unto him. And here endeth the quest of\nSir Tor, king Pellinore\u2019s son.\n_How king Pellinore rode after the lady and the knight that led her\n away, and how a lady desired help of him, and how he fought with two\n knights for that lady, of whom he slew the one at the first stroke._\nThen king Pellinore armed him and mounted upon his horse, and rode more\nthan a pace after the lady that the knight led away. And as he rode in\na forest, he saw in a valley a damsel sit by a well, and a wounded\nknight in her arms, and Pellinore saluted her. And when she was ware of\nhim, she cried over loud, Help me knight, for Christ\u2019s sake, king\nPellinore! And he would not tarry he was so eager in his quest, and\never she cried an hundred times after help. When she saw he would not\nabide, she prayed unto God to send him as much need of help as she had,\nand that he might feel it or he died. So as the book telleth, the\nknight died that there was wounded, wherefore the lady for pure sorrow\nslew herself with his sword. As king Pellinore rode in that valley he\nmet with a poor man, a labourer: Sawest thou not, said Pellinore, a\nknight riding and leading away a lady? Yea, said the poor man, I saw\nthat knight, and the lady that made great dole. And yonder beneath in a\nvalley there shall ye see two pavilions, and one of the knights of the\npavilions challenged that lady of that knight, and said she was his\ncousin near, wherefore he should lead her no farther. And so they waged\nbattle in that quarrel; the one said he would have her by force, and\nthe other said he would have the rule of her because he was her\nkinsman, and would lead her to her kin. For this quarrel I left them\nfighting, and if ye will ride a pace ye shall find them fighting, and\nthe lady was beleft with the two squires in the pavilions. I thank\nthee, said king Pellinore. Then he rode a wallop till that he had a\nsight of the two pavilions, and the two knights fighting. Anon he rode\nunto the pavilions, and saw the lady that was his quest, and said, Fair\nlady, ye must go with me unto the court of king Arthur. Sir knight,\nsaid the two squires that were with her, yonder are two knights that\nfight for this lady, go thither and depart them, and be agreed with\nthem, and then ye may have her at your pleasure. Ye say well, said king\nPellinore. And anon he rode betwixt them, and departed them, and asked\nthem the cause why that they fought. Sir knight, said the one, I shall\ntell you. This lady is my kinswoman nigh, mine aunt\u2019s daughter, and\nwhen I heard her complain that she was with him maugre her head, I\nwaged battle to fight with him. Sir knight, said the other, whose name\nwas Hontzlake of Wentland, and this lady I gat by my prowess of arms\nthis day at Arthur\u2019s court. That is untruly said, said king Pellinore,\nfor ye came in suddenly there as we were at the high feast, and took\naway this lady or any man might him ready, and therefore it was my\nquest for to bring her again and you both, or else the one of us to\nabide in the field; therefore the lady shall go with me, or I will die\nfor it, for I have promised it king Arthur. And therefore fight ye no\nmore, for none of you shall have no part of her at this time, and if ye\nlist to fight for her, fight with me, and I will defend her. Well, said\nthe knights, make you ready, and we shall assail you with all our\npower. And as king Pellinore would have put his horse from them, Sir\nHontzlake rove his horse through with a sword, and said: Now art thou\non foot as well we are. When king Pellinore espied that his horse was\nslain, lightly he leapt from his horse and pulled out his sword, and\nput his shield afore him, and said: Knight, keep well thy head, for\nthou shalt have a buffet for the slaying of my horse. So king Pellinore\ngave him such a stroke upon the helm that he clave the head down to the\nchin, that he fell to the earth dead.\n_How king Pellinore gat the lady and brought her to Camelot to the\n court of king Arthur._\nAnd then he turned him to the other knight that was sore wounded. But\nwhen he saw the other\u2019s buffet he would not fight, but kneeled down and\nsaid, Take my cousin, the lady, with you at your request, and I require\nyou, as ye be a true knight, put her to no shame nor villainy. What,\nsaid king Pellinore, will ye not fight for her? No, sir, said the\nknight. I will not fight with such a knight of prowess as ye be. Well,\nsaid Pellinore, ye say well, I promise you she shall have no villainy\nby me, as I am true knight; but now me lacketh an horse, said\nPellinore, but I will have Hontzlake\u2019s horse. Ye shall not need, said\nthe knight, for I shall give you such a horse as shall please you, so\nthat ye will lodge with me, for it is near night. I will well, said\nking Pellinore, abide with you all night. And there he had with him\nright good cheer, and fared of the best with passing good wine, and had\nmerry rest that night. And on the morrow he heard a mass, and dined:\nand then was brought him a fair bay courser, and king Pellinore\u2019s\nsaddle set upon him. Now, what shall I call you? said the knight,\ninasmuch as ye have my cousin at your desire of your quest. Sir, I\nshall tell you; my name is king Pellinore, of the Isles, and knight of\nthe Table Round. Now I am glad, said the knight, that such a noble man\nshall have the rule of my cousin. What is now your name? said\nPellinore, I pray you tell me. Sir, my name is Sir Meliot of Logurs,\nand this lady my cousin, hight Nimue, and the knight that was in the\nother pavilion is my sworn brother, a passing good knight, and his name\nis Brian of the Isles, and he is full loth to do wrong, and full loth\nto fight with any man, but if he be sore sought on, so that for shame\nhe may not leave it. It is marvel, said Pellinore, that he will not\nhave ado with me. Sir, he will not have ado with no man but if it be at\nhis request. Bring him to the court, said Pellinore, one of these days.\nSir, we will come together. And ye shall be welcome, said king\nPellinore, to the court of king Arthur, and greatly allowed for your\ncoming. And so he departed with the lady, and brought her to Camelot.\nSo as they rode in a valley it was full of stones, and there the lady\u2019s\nhorse stumbled and threw her down, wherewith her arm was sore bruised,\nand near she swooned for pain. Alas! sir, said the lady, mine arm is\nout of joint, where through I must needs rest me. Ye shall well, said\nking Pellinore. And so he alighted under a fair tree where was fair\ngrass, and he put his horse thereto, and so laid him under the tree and\nslept till it was nigh night. And when he awoke he would have ridden.\nSir, said the lady, it is so dark that ye may as well ride backward as\nforward. So they abode still and made there their lodging. Then Sir\nPellinore put off his armour; then a little afore midnight they heard\nthe trotting of an horse. Be ye still, said king Pellinore, for we\nshall hear of some adventure.\n_How on the way king Pellinore heard two knights, as he lay by night in\n a valley, and of other adventures._\nAnd therewith he armed him. So right even afore him there met two\nknights, the one came from Camelot and the other from the north, and\neither saluted other. What tidings at Camelot? said the one. By my\nhead, said the other, there have I been, and espied the court of king\nArthur, and there is such a fellowship they may never be broken, and\nwell nigh all the world holdeth with Arthur, for there is the flower of\nchivalry. Now for this cause I am riding into the north to tell our\nchieftains of the fellowship that is withholden with king Arthur. As\nfor that, said the other knight, I have brought a remedy with me, that\nis the greatest poison that ever ye heard speak of, and to Camelot will\nI with it, for we have a friend right nigh king Arthur, and well\ncherished, that shall poison king Arthur, for so he hath promised our\nchieftains, and received great gifts for to do it. Beware, said the\nother knight, of Merlin, for he knoweth all things by the devil\u2019s\ncraft. Therefore will I not let it, said the knight. And so they\ndeparted in sunder. Anon after Pellinore made him ready, and his lady,\nand rode toward Camelot. And as they came by the well there as the\nwounded knight was and the lady, there he found the knight, and the\nlady eaten with lions or wild beasts all save the head, wherefore he\nmade great sorrow, and wept passing sore, and said: Alas, her life\nmight I have saved, but I was so fierce in my quest therefore I would\nnot abide. Wherefore make ye such dole, said the lady. I wot not, said\nPellinore, but my heart mourneth sore for the death of her, for she was\na passing fair lady and a young. Now will ye do by mine advice, said\nthe lady, take this knight and let him be buried in an hermitage, and\nthen take the lady\u2019s head and bear it with you unto Arthur. So king\nPellinore took this dead knight on his shoulders and brought him to the\nhermitage, and charged the hermit with the corpse, that service should\nbe done for the soul; and take his harness for your pain. It shall be\ndone, said the hermit, as I will answer unto God.\n_How when king Pellinore was come to Camelot he was sworn upon a book\n to tell truth of his quest._\nAnd therewith they departed and came there as the head of the lady lay\nwith a fair yellow hair, that grieved king Pellinore passingly sore\nwhen he looked on it, for much he cast his heart on the visage. And so\nby noon they came to Camelot. And the king and the queen were passing\nfain of his coming to the court. And there he was made to swear upon\nthe four Evangelists to tell the truth of his quest from the one to the\nother. Ah, Sir Pellinore, said queen Guenever, ye were greatly to blame\nthat ye saved not this lady\u2019s life. Madam, said Pellinore, ye were\ngreatly to blame and ye would not save your own life and ye might; but\nsaving your pleasure, I was so furious in my quest that I would not\nabide, and that repenteth me, and shall the days of my life. Truly,\nsaid Merlin, ye ought sore to repent it, for the lady was your own\ndaughter, and that knight that was dead was her love, and should have\nwedded her, and he was a right good knight of a young man, and would\nhave proved a good man, and to this court was he coming, and his name\nwas Sir Miles of the lands, and a knight came behind him and slew him\nwith a spear, and his name is Loraine le Savage, a false knight and a\ncoward; and she for great sorrow and dole slew herself with his sword,\nand her name was Eleine. And because ye would not abide and help her,\nye shall see your best friend fail you when ye be in the greatest\ndistress that ever ye were or shall be. And that penance God hath\nordained you for that deed, that he that ye shall most trust to of any\nman alive, he shall leave you there as ye shall be slain. Me\nforthinketh, said king Pellinore, that this shall betide, but God may\nwell fordo destiny.\nThus when the quest was done of the white hart, the which followed Sir\nGawaine; and the quest of the brachet followed of Sir Tor, Pellinore\u2019s\nson; and the quest of the lady that the knight took away, the which\nking Pellinore at that time followed; then the king stablished all his\nknights, and them that were of lands not rich he gave them lands, and\ncharged them never to do outrage, nor murder, and always to flee\ntreason. Also, by no mean to be cruel, but to give mercy unto him that\nasketh mercy, upon pain of forfeiture of their worship and lordship of\nking Arthur for evermore; and alway to do ladies, damsels, and\ngentlewomen succour upon pain of death. Also, that no man take no\nbattles in a wrongful quarrel for no law, nor for world\u2019s goods. Unto\nthis were all the knights sworn of the Table Round, both old and young.\nAnd every year were they sworn at the high feast of Pentecost.\n Explicit the weddynge of kynge Arthur.\n Sequitur quartus liber.\n_How Merlin was assotted and doted on one of the ladies of the lake,\n and how he was shut in a rock under a stone, and there died._\nSo after these quests of Sir Gawaine, Sir Tor, and king Pellinore, it\nfell so that Merlin fell in a dotage on the damsel that king Pellinore\nbrought to court, and she was one of the damsels of the lake, that\nhight Nimue. But Merlin would let her have no rest, but always he would\nbe with her. And ever she made Merlin good cheer till she had learned\nof him all manner thing that she desired; and he was assotted upon her\nthat he might not be from her. So on a time he told king Arthur that he\nshould not dure long, but for all his crafts he should be put in the\nearth quick, and so he told the king many things that should befall,\nbut always he warned the king to keep well his sword and the scabbard,\nfor he told him how the sword and the scabbard should be stolen by a\nwoman from him that he most trusted. Also he told king Arthur that he\nshould miss him:\u2014Yet had ye lever than all your lands to have me\nagain. Ah, said the king, since ye know of your adventure, purvey for\nit, and put away by your crafts that misadventure. Nay, said Merlin, it\nwill not be. So he departed from the king. And within awhile the damsel\nof the lake departed, and Merlin went with her evermore wheresoever she\nwent. And oft times Merlin would have had her privily away by his\nsubtle crafts: then she made him to swear that he should never do none\nenchantment upon her if he would have his will. And so he sware: so she\nand Merlin went over the sea unto the land of Benwick, where as king\nBan was king that had great war against king Claudas, and there Merlin\nspake with king Ban\u2019s wife, a fair lady and a good, and her name was\nElaine, and there he saw young Launcelot. There the queen made great\nsorrow for the mortal war that king Claudas made on her lord and on her\nlands. Take none heaviness, said Merlin, for this same child within\nthis twenty year shall revenge you on king Claudas, that all\nchristendom shall speak of it: and this same child shall be the man of\nmost worship of the world, and his first name is Galahad, that know I\nwell, said Merlin, and since ye have confirmed him, Launcelot. That is\ntruth, said the queen, his first name was Galahad. O, Merlin, said the\nqueen, shall I live to see my son such a man of prowess? Yea, lady, on\nmy peril ye shall see it, and live many winters after. And so, soon\nafter the lady and Merlin departed; and by the way Merlin shewed her\nmany wonders, and came into Cornwall. And always Merlin lay about the\nlady to have her love, and she was ever passing weary of him, and fain\nwould have been delivered of him, for she was afeard of him because he\nwas a devil\u2019s son, and she could not put him away by no means.\nAnd so on a time it happed that Merlin shewed to her in a rock whereas\nwas a great wonder, and wrought by enchantment, that went under a great\nstone. So by her subtle working, she made Merlin to go under that stone\nto let her wit of the marvels there, but she wrought so there for him\nthat he came never out for all the craft that he could do. And so she\ndeparted and left Merlin.\n_How five kings came into this land to war against king Arthur, and\n what counsel Arthur had against them._\nAnd as king Arthur rode to Camelot, and held there a great feast with\nmirth and joy, so soon after he returned unto Cardoile, and there came\nunto Arthur new tidings that the king of Denmark, and the king of\nIreland that was his brother, and the king of the Vale, and the king of\nSoleise, and the king of the Isle of Longtainse, all these five kings\nwith a great host were entered into the land of king Arthur, and burnt\nand slew clean afore them both cities and castles, that it was pity to\nhear. Alas, said Arthur, yet had I never rest one month since I was\ncrowned king of this land. Now shall I never rest till I meet with\nthose kings in a fair field, that I make mine avow; for my true liege\npeople shall not be destroyed in my default, go with me who will, and\nabide who that will. Then the king let write unto king Pellinore, and\nprayed him in all haste to make him ready with such people as he might\nlightliest rear, and hie him after in all haste. All the barons were\nprivily wroth that the king would depart so suddenly: but the king by\nno mean would abide, but made writing unto them that were not there,\nand had them hie after him, such as were not at that time in the court.\nThen the king came to queen Guenever, and said, Lady, make you ready,\nfor ye shall go with me, for I may not long miss you, ye shall cause me\nto be the more hardy, what adventure so befall me: I will not wit my\nlady to be in no jeopardy. Sir, said she, I am at your commandment, and\nshall be ready what time so ye be ready. So on the morn the king and\nthe queen departed with such fellowship as they had, and came into the\nnorth into a forest beside Humber, and there lodged them. When the word\nand tiding came to the five kings above said, that king Arthur was\nbeside Humber in a forest, there was a knight, brother unto one of the\nfive kings, that gave them this counsel: Ye know well that Sir Arthur\nhath the flower of chivalry of the world with him, as it is proved by\nthe great battle he did with the eleven kings; and therefore hie unto\nhim night and day till that we be nigh him, for the longer he tarrieth\nthe bigger he is, and we ever the weaker; and he is so courageous of\nhimself, that he is come to the field with little people, and therefore\nlet us set upon him or day, and we shall slay down of his knights there\nshall none escape.\n_How king Arthur had ado with them and overthrew them, and slew the\n five kings, and made the remnant to flee._\nUnto this counsel these five kings assented, and so they passed forth\nwith their host through North Wales, and came upon Arthur by night, and\nset upon his host as the king and his knights were in their pavilions.\nKing Arthur was unarmed, and had laid him to rest with his queen\nGuenever. Sir, said Sir Kay, it is not good we be unarmed: we shall\nhave no need, said Sir Gawaine and Sir Griflet, that lay in a little\npavilion by the king. With that they heard a great noise, and many\ncried treason, treason! Alas, said king Arthur, we are betrayed! Unto\narms, fellows! then he cried. So they were armed anon at all points.\nThen came there a wounded knight unto the king, and said, Sir, save\nyourself and my lady the queen, for our host is destroyed, and much\npeople of ours slain. So anon the king and the queen and the three\nknights took their horses, and rode toward Humber to pass over it, and\nthe water was so rough that they were afeard to pass over. Now may ye\nchoose, said king Arthur, whether ye will abide and take the adventure\non this side, for and ye be taken they will slay you. It were me lever,\nsaid the queen, to die in the water than to fall in your enemies\u2019\nhands, and there be slain. And as they stood so talking, Sir Kay saw\nthe five kings coming on horseback by themselves alone, with their\nspears in their hands even toward them. Lo, said Sir Kay, yonder be the\nfive kings, let us go to them and match them. That were folly, said Sir\nGawaine, for we are but four and they be five. That is truth, said Sir\nGriflet. No force, said Sir Kay, I will undertake for two of them, and\nthen may ye three undertake for the other three. And therewithal Sir\nKay let his horse run as fast as he might, and struck one of them\nthrough the shield and the body a fathom, that the king fell to the\nearth stark dead. That saw Sir Gawaine and ran unto another king so\nhard that he smote him through the body. And therewithal king Arthur\nran to another, and smote him through the body with a spear, that he\nfell to the earth dead. Then Sir Griflet ran unto the fourth king, and\ngave him such a fall that his neck brake. Anon Sir Kay ran unto the\nfifth king, and smote him so hard on the helm that the stroke clave the\nhelm and the head to the earth. That was well stricken, said king\nArthur, and worshipfully hast thou holden thy promise, therefore I\nshall honour thee while that I live. And therewithal they set the queen\nin a barge into Humber, but always queen Guenever praised Sir Kay for\nhis deeds, and said, What lady that ye love, and she love you not\nagain, she were greatly to blame; and among ladies, said the queen, I\nshall bear your noble fame, for ye spake a great word, and fulfilled it\nworshipfully. And therewith the queen departed. Then the king and the\nthree knights rode into the forest, for there they supposed to hear of\nthem that were escaped; and there king Arthur found the most part of\nhis people, and told them all how the five kings were dead.\u2014And\ntherefore let us hold us together till it be day, and when their host\nhave espied that their chieftains be slain, they will make such dole\nthat they shall no more help themselves. And right so as the king said,\nso it was; for when they found the five kings dead, they made such dole\nthat they fell from their horses. Therewithal came king Arthur but with\na few people, and slew on the left hand and on the right hand, that\nwell nigh there escaped no man, but all were slain to the number of\nthirty thousand. And when the battle was all ended, the king kneeled\ndown and thanked God meekly. And then he sent for the queen, and soon\nshe was come, and she made great joy of the overcoming of that battle.\n_How the battle was finished or king Pellinore came, and how king\n Arthur founded an abbey where the battle was._\nTherewithal came one to king Arthur, and told him that king Pellinore\nwas within three mile with a great host; and he said, Go unto him, and\nlet him understand how we have sped. So within awhile king Pellinore\ncame with a great host, and saluted the people and the king: and there\nwas great joy made on every side. Then the king let search how much\npeople of his party there was slain: and there were found but little\npast two hundred men slain, and eight knights of the Table Round in\ntheir pavilions. Then the king let rear and devise in the same place\nthere as the battle was done a fair abbey, and endowed it with great\nlivelihood, and let call it the Abbey of La Beale Adventure. But when\nsome of them came into their countries whereof the five kings were\nkings, and told them how they were slain, there was made great dole.\nAnd when all king Arthur\u2019s enemies, as the king of North Wales, and the\nkings of the North, wist of the battle they were passing heavy. And so\nthe king returned to Camelot in haste. And when he was come to Camelot\nhe called king Pellinore unto him, and said, Ye understand well, that\nwe have lost eight knights of the best of the Table Round, and by your\nadvice we will choose eight again of the best we may find in this\ncourt. Sir, said Pellinore, I shall counsel you after my conceit the\nbest; there are in your court full noble knights both of old and young,\nand therefore by mine advice ye shall choose half of the old and half\nof the young. Which be the old? said king Arthur. Sir, said king\nPellinore, me seemeth that king Uriens that hath wedded your sister\nMorgan le Fay, and the king of the Lake, and Sir Hervise de Revel, a\nnoble knight, and Sir Galagars the fourth. This is well devised, said\nking Arthur, and right so shall it be. Now, which are the four young\nknights? said Arthur. Sir, said Pellinore, the first is Sir Gawaine\nyour nephew, that is as good a knight of his time as any is in this\nland; and the second, as me seemeth, is Sir Griflet le Fise de Dieu,\nthat is a good knight, and full desirous in arms, and who may see him\nlive he shall prove a good knight; and the third as me seemeth is well\nto be one of the knights of the Round Table, Sir Kay the seneschal, for\nmany times he hath done full worshipfully, and now at your last battle\nhe did full honourably for to undertake to slay two kings. By my head,\nsaid king Arthur, he is best worthy to be a knight of the Round Table\nof any that ye have rehearsed, and he had done no more prowess in his\nlife days.\n_How Sir Tor was made knight of the Round Table, and how Bagdemagus was\n displeased._\nNow, said king Pellinore, I shall put to you two knights, and ye shall\nchoose which is most worthy, that is Sir Bagdemagus, and Sir Tor, my\nson. But because Sir Tor is my son I may not praise him, but else, and\nhe were not my son, I durst say that of his age there is not in this\nland a better knight then he is, nor of better conditions, and loth to\ndo any wrong, and loth to take any wrong. By my head, said Arthur, he\nis a passing good knight, as any ye spake of this day, that wot I well,\nsaid the king, for I have seen him proved, but he saith little, and he\ndoth much more, for I know none in all this court, and he were as well\nborn on his mother\u2019s side as he is on your side, that is like him of\nprowess and of might; and therefore I will have him at this time, and\nleave Sir Bagdemagus till another time. So when they were so chosen by\nthe assent of all the barons, so were there found in their sieges every\nknight\u2019s names that here are rehearsed. And so were they set in their\nsieges, whereof Sir Bagdemagus was wonderly wroth, that Sir Tor was\nadvanced afore him, and therefore suddenly he departed from the court,\nand took his squire with him, and rode long in a forest till they came\nto a cross, and there alight and said his prayers devoutly. The\nmeanwhile his squire found written upon the cross, that Bagdemagus\nshould never return unto the court again till he had won a knight\u2019s\nbody of the Round Table, body for body. Lo, sir, said his squire, here\nI find writing of you, therefore I counsel you return again to the\ncourt. That shall I never, said Bagdemagus, till men speak of me great\nworship, and that I be worthy to be a knight of the Round Table. And so\nhe rode forth. And there by the way he found a branch of an holy herb\nthat was the sign of the Sangreal, and no knight found such tokens but\nhe were a good liver. So as Sir Bagdemagus rode to see many adventures,\nit happed him to come to the rock there as the lady of the lake had put\nMerlin under a stone, and there he heard him make great dole; whereof\nSir Bagdemagus would have holpen him, and went unto the great stone,\nand it was so heavy that an hundred men might not lift it up. When\nMerlin wist he was there, he bad leave his labour, for all was in vain,\nfor he might never be holpen but by her that put him there. And so Sir\nBagdemagus departed, and did many adventures, and proved after a full\ngood knight, and came again to the court, and was made knight of the\nRound Table. So on the morn there fell new tidings and other adventures.\n_How king Arthur, king Uriens, and Sir Accolon of Gaul chased an hart,\n and of their marvellous adventures._\nThen it befel that Arthur and many of his knights rode on hunting into\na great forest, and it happed king Arthur, king Uriens, and Sir Accolon\nof Gaul followed a great hart, for they three were well horsed, and so\nthey chased so fast that within awhile they three were then ten mile\nfrom their fellowship. And at the last they chased so sore that they\nslew their horses underneath them. Then were they all three on foot,\nand ever they saw the hart afore them passing weary and enbushed. What\nwill ye do? said king Arthur, we are hard bested. Let us go on foot,\nsaid king Uriens, till we may meet with some lodging. Then were they\nware of the hart that lay on a great water bank, and a brachet biting\non his throat, and more other hounds came after. Then king Arthur blew\nthe prise and dight the hart. Then the king looked about the world, and\nsaw afore him in a great water a little ship, all apparelled with silk\ndown to the water, and the ship came right unto them, and landed on the\nsands. Then Arthur went to the bank and looked in, and saw none earthly\ncreature therein. Sirs, said the king, come thence, and let us see what\nis in this ship. So they went in all three, and found it richly\nbehanged with cloth of silk. By then it was dark night, and there\nsuddenly were about them an hundred torches set upon all the sides of\nthe ship boards, and it gave great light; and therewithal there came\nout twelve fair damsels and saluted king Arthur on their knees, and\ncalled him by his name, and said he was right welcome, and such cheer\nas they had he should have of the best. The king thanked them fair.\nTherewithal they led the king and his two fellows into a fair chamber,\nand there was a cloth laid richly beseen of all that longed unto a\ntable, and there were they served of all wines and meats that they\ncould think; of that the king had great marvel, for he fared never\nbetter in his life as for one supper. And so when they had supped at\ntheir leisure, king Arthur was led into a chamber, a richer beseen\nchamber saw he never none; and so was king Uriens served, and led into\nsuch another chamber; and Sir Accolon was led into the third chamber,\npassing richly and well beseen: and so were they laid in their beds\neasily. And anon they fell on sleep, and slept marvellously sore all\nthat night. And on the morrow king Uriens was in Camelot with his wife,\nMorgan le Fay. And when he awoke he had great marvel how he came there,\nfor on the even afore he was two days\u2019 journey from Camelot. And when\nking Arthur awoke he found himself in a dark prison, hearing about him\nmany complaints of woful knights.\n_How Arthur took upon him to fight to be delivered out of prison, and\n also for to deliver twenty knights that were in prison._\nWhat are ye that so complain? said king Arthur. We be here twenty\nknights prisoners, said they, and some of us have lain here seven year,\nand some more and some less. For what cause? said Arthur. We shall tell\nyou, said the knights; This lord of this castle his name is Sir Damas,\nand he is the falsest knight that liveth, and full of treason, and a\nvery coward as any liveth, and he hath a younger brother, a good knight\nof prowess, his name is Sir Ontzlake, and this traitor Damas, the elder\nbrother, will give him no part of his livelihood but as Sir Ontzlake\nkeepeth through prowess of his hands, and so he keepeth from him a full\nfair manor and a rich, and therein Sir Ontzlake dwelleth worshipfully\nand is well beloved of all people. And this Sir Damas our master is as\nevil beloved, for he is without mercy, and he is a coward, and great\nwar hath been betwixt them both, but Ontzlake hath ever the better, and\never he proffereth Sir Damas to fight for the livelihood, body for\nbody; but if he will not do it to find a knight to fight for him. Unto\nthat Sir Damas hath granted to find a knight, but he is so evil beloved\nand hated, that there is never a knight will fight for him. And when\nDamas saw this, that there was never a knight would fight for him, he\nhath daily lain await with many knights with him and taken all the\nknights in this country to see and espy their adventures: he hath taken\nthem by force and brought them to his prison. And so he took us\nseverally as we rode on our adventures, and many good knights have died\nin this prison for hunger, to the number of eighteen knights: and if\nany of us all that here is or hath been, would have fought with his\nbrother Ontzlake he would have delivered us, but for because this Damas\nis so false and so full of treason, we would never fight for him to die\nfor it. And we be so lean with hunger that hardly we may stand on our\nfeet. God deliver you for his mercy, said Arthur. Anon therewithal\nthere came a damsel unto Arthur, and asked him, What cheer? I cannot\nsay, said he. Sir, said she, and ye will fight for my lord, ye shall be\ndelivered out of prison, and else ye escape never with life. Now, said\nArthur, that is hard, yet had I lever to fight with a knight than to\ndie in prison: with this, said Arthur, that I may be delivered and all\nthese prisoners I will do the battle. Yes, said the damsel. I am ready,\nsaid Arthur, and I had horse and armour. Ye shall lack none, said the\ndamsel. Me seemeth, damsel, that I should have seen you in the court of\nArthur. Nay, said the damsel, I came never there, I am the lord\u2019s\ndaughter of this castle. Yet was she false, for she was one of the\ndamsels of Morgan le Fay. Anon she went unto Sir Damas, and told him\nhow he would do battle for him, and so he sent for Arthur. And when he\ncame he was well coloured, and well made of his limbs, that all knights\nthat saw him said it were pity that such a knight should die in prison.\nSo Sir Damas and he were agreed that he should fight for him upon this\ncovenant, that all other knights should be delivered; and unto that was\nSir Damas sworn unto Arthur, and also to do the battle to the\nuttermost. And with that all the twenty knights were brought out of the\ndark prison into the hall and delivered. And so they all abode to see\nthe battle.\n_How Accolon found himself by a well, and he took upon him to do battle\n against Arthur._\nNow turn we unto Accolon of Gaul, that when he awoke he found himself\nby a deep well side, within half a foot, in great peril of death. And\nthere came out of that fountain a pipe of silver, and out of that pipe\nran water all on high in a stone of marble. When Sir Accolon saw this\nhe blessed him and said: Jesu save my lord king Arthur, and king\nUriens, for these damsels in this ship have betrayed us. They were\ndevils and no women, and if I may escape this misadventure, I shall\ndestroy all where I may find these false damsels that use enchantments.\nRight with that there came a dwarf with a great mouth and a flat nose,\nand saluted Sir Accolon, and said how he came from queen Morgan le Fay;\nand she greeteth you well, and biddeth you be of strong heart, for ye\nshall fight to morn with a knight at the hour of prime, and therefore\nshe hath sent you here Excalibur Arthur\u2019s sword, and the scabbard, and\nshe biddeth you as ye love her, that ye do the battle to the uttermost\nwithout any mercy, like as ye had promised her when ye spake together\nin private: and what damsel that bringeth her the knight\u2019s head that ye\nshall fight withal, she will make her a queen. Now I understand you\nwell, said Accolon: I shall hold that I have promised her, now I have\nthe sword: when saw ye my lady queen Morgan le Fay? Right late, said\nthe dwarf. Then Accolon took him in his arms, and said, Recommend me\nunto my lady queen, and tell her all shall be done that I have promised\nher, and else I will die for it. Now I suppose, said Accolon, she hath\nmade all these crafts and enchantments for this battle. Ye may well\nbelieve it, said the dwarf. Right so there came a knight and a lady\nwith six squires, and saluted Sir Accolon and prayed him for to arise,\nand come and rest him at his manor. And so Accolon mounted upon a void\nhorse, and went with the knight unto a fair manor by a priory, and\nthere he had passing good cheer. Then Sir Damas sent unto his brother\nSir Ontzlake, and bade make him ready by to morn at the hour of prime,\nand to be in the field to fight with a good knight, for he had found a\ngood knight that was ready to do battle at all points. When this word\ncame unto Sir Ontzlake he was passing heavy, for he was wounded a\nlittle tofore through both his thighs with a spear, and made great\ndole: but as he was wounded he would have taken the battle on hand. So\nit happed at that time, by the means of Morgan le Fay, Accolon was with\nSir Ontzlake lodged; and when he heard of that battle, and how Ontzlake\nwas wounded, he said he would fight for him, because Morgan le Fay had\nsent him Excalibur and the sheath for to fight with the knight on the\nmorn; this was the cause Sir Accolon took the battle on hand. Then Sir\nOntzlake was passing glad, and thanked Sir Accolon with all his heart\nthat he would do so much for him. And therewithal Sir Ontzlake sent\nword unto his brother Sir Damas that he had a knight that for him\nshould be ready in the field by the hour of prime. So on the morn Sir\nArthur was armed and well horsed, and asked Sir Damas, When shall we to\nthe field? Sir, said Sir Damas, ye shall hear mass; and so Arthur heard\na mass. And when mass was done there came a squire on a great horse,\nand asked Sir Damas if his knight were ready, for our knight is ready\nin the field. Then Sir Arthur mounted upon horseback, and there were\nall the knights and commons of that country; and so by all advices\nthere were chosen twelve good men of the country for to wait upon the\ntwo knights. And right as Arthur was upon horseback there came a damsel\nfrom Morgan le Fay, and brought unto Sir Arthur a sword like unto\nExcalibur, and the scabbard, and said unto Arthur, Morgan le Fay\nsendeth you here your sword for great love. And he thanked her, and\nwend it had been so, but she was false, for the sword and the scabbard\nwas counterfeit, and brittle, and false.\n_Of the battle between king Arthur and Accolon._\nAnd then they dressed them on both parts of the field, and let their\nhorses run so fast that either smote other in the midst of the shield\nwith their spears\u2019 head, that both horse and man went to the earth; and\nthen they started up both, and pulled out their swords. The mean while\nthat they were thus at the battle, came the damsel of the lake into the\nfield, that put Merlin under the stone, and she came thither for love\nof king Arthur, for she knew how Morgan le Fay had so ordained that\nking Arthur should have been slain that day, and therefore she came to\nsave his life. And so they went eagerly to the battle, and gave many\ngreat strokes. But alway king Arthur\u2019s sword bit not like Accolon\u2019s\nsword, but for the most part every stroke that Accolon gave wounded he\nsore Arthur, that it was marvel he stood; and alway his blood fell from\nhim fast. When Arthur beheld the ground so sore be-bled he was\ndismayed, and then he deemed treason, that his sword was changed; for\nhis sword bit not steel as it was wont to do, therefore he dread him\nsore to be dead, for ever him seemed that the sword in Accolon\u2019s hand\nwas Excalibur, for at every stroke that Sir Accolon struck he drew\nblood on Arthur. Now knight, said Accolon unto Arthur, keep thee well\nfrom me: but Arthur answered not again, and gave him such a buffet on\nthe helm that he made him to stoop, nigh falling down to the earth.\nThen Sir Accolon withdrew him a little, and came on with Excalibur on\nhigh, and smote Sir Arthur such a buffet that he fell nigh to the\nearth. Then were they wroth both, and gave each other many sore\nstrokes, but always Sir Arthur lost so much blood that it was marvel he\nstood on his feet, but he was so full of knighthood that knightly he\nendured the pain. And Sir Accolon lost not a deal of blood, therefore\nhe waxed passing light, and Sir Arthur was passing feeble, and wend\nverily to have died; but for all that he made countenance as though he\nmight endure, and held Accolon as short as he might. But Accolon was so\nbold because of Excalibur that he waxed passing hardy. But all men that\nbeheld him said they never saw knight fight so well as Arthur did,\nconsidering the blood that he bled. So was all the people sorry for\nhim, but the two brethren would not accord; then always they fought\ntogether as fierce knights, and Sir Arthur withdrew him a little for to\nrest him, and Sir Accolon called him to battle, and said, It is no time\nfor me to suffer thee to rest. And therewith he came fiercely upon\nArthur, and Sir Arthur was wroth for the blood that he had lost, and\nsmote Accolon on high upon the helm so mightily that he made him nigh\nto fall to the earth; and therewith Arthur\u2019s sword brast at the cross,\nand fell in the grass among the blood, and the pommel and the sure\nhandles he held in his hands. When Sir Arthur saw that, he was in great\nfear to die, but always he held up his shield, and lost no ground, nor\nbated no cheer.\n_How king Arthur\u2019s sword that he fought with brake, and how he\n recovered of Accolon his own sword Excalibur, and overcame his enemy._\nThen Sir Accolon began with words of treason, and said, Knight, thou\nart overcome, and mayest not endure, and also thou art weaponless, and\nthou hast lost much of thy blood, and I am full loth to slay thee,\ntherefore yield thee to me as recreant. Nay, said Sir Arthur, I may not\nso, for I have promised to do the battle to the uttermost by the faith\nof my body while me lasteth the life, and therefore I had lever to die\nwith honour than to live with shame; and if it were possible for me to\ndie an hundred times I had lever to die so oft than yield me to thee;\nfor though I lack weapon I shall lack no worship, and if thou slay me\nweaponless that shall be thy shame. Well, said Accolon, as for the\nshame I will not spare: now keep thee from me, for thou art but a dead\nman. And therewith Accolon gave him such a stroke that he fell nigh to\nthe earth, and would have had Arthur to have cried him mercy. But Sir\nArthur pressed unto Accolon with his shield, and gave him with the\npommel in his hand such a buffet that he went three strides aback. When\nthe damsel of the lake beheld Arthur, how full of prowess his body was,\nand the false treason that was wrought for him to have had him slain,\nshe had great pity that so good a knight and such a man of worship\nshould be destroyed. And at the next stroke Sir Accolon struck him such\na stroke, that by the damsel\u2019s enchantment the sword Excalibur fell out\nof Accolon\u2019s hand to the earth; and therewithal Sir Arthur lightly\nleapt to it, and got it in his hand, and forthwithal he knew that it\nwas his sword Excalibur, and said, Thou hast been from me all too long,\nand much damage hast thou done me. And therewith he espied the scabbard\nhanging by his side, and suddenly he start to him, and pulled the\nscabbard from him, and anon threw it from him as far as he might throw\nit. O knight, said Arthur, this day hast thou done me great damage with\nthis sword; now are ye come unto your death, for I shall not warrant\nyou but ye shall as well be rewarded with this sword or ever we depart,\nas thou hast rewarded me, for much pain have ye made me to endure, and\nmuch blood have I lost. And therewith Sir Arthur rushed on him with all\nhis might and pulled him to the earth, and then rushed off his helm,\nand gave him such a buffet on the head that the blood came out at his\nears, his nose, and his mouth. Now will I slay thee, said Arthur. Slay\nme ye may well, said Accolon, and it please you, for ye are the best\nknight that ever I found, and I see well that God is with you: but for\nI promised to do this battle to the uttermost, said Accolon, and never\nto be recreant while I lived, therefore shall I never yield me with my\nmouth, but God do with my body what he will. Then Sir Arthur remembered\nhim, and thought he should have seen this knight. Now tell me, said\nArthur, or I will slay thee, of what country art thou, and of what\ncourt? Sir knight, said Sir Accolon, I am of the court of king Arthur,\nand my name is Accolon of Gaul. Then was Arthur more dismayed than he\nwas beforehand; for then he remembered him of his sister Morgan le Fay,\nand of the enchantment of the ship. O Sir knight, said he, I pray you\ntell me who gave you this sword, and by whom ye had it.\n_How Accolon confessed the treason of Morgan le Fay, king Arthur\u2019s\n sister, and how she would have done slay him._\nThen Sir Accolon bethought him, and said, Woe worth this sword, for by\nit have I gotten my death. It may well be, said the king. Now Sir, said\nSir Accolon, I will tell you: This sword hath been in my keeping the\nmost part of this twelvemonth, and Morgan le Fay, king Uriens\u2019 wife,\nsent it me yesterday by a dwarf, to this intent that I should slay king\nArthur her brother. For ye shall understand king Arthur is the man in\nthe world that she most hateth, because he is most of worship and of\nprowess of any of her blood. Also, she loveth me out of measure as\nparamour, and I her again. And if she might bring about to slay Arthur\nby her crafts, she would slay her husband king Uriens lightly, and then\nhad she me devised to be king in this land, and so to reign, and she to\nbe my queen; but that is now done, said Sir Accolon, for I am sure of\nmy death. Well, said king Arthur, I feel by you ye would have been king\nin this land. It had been great damage for to have destroyed your lord,\nsaid Arthur. It is truth, said Sir Accolon, but now I have told you\ntruth, wherefore I pray you tell me of whence ye are, and of what\ncourt? O Accolon, said king Arthur, now I let thee wit that I am king\nArthur to whom thou hast done great damage. When Accolon heard that he\ncried aloud, Fair sweet lord, have mercy on me, for I knew you not. O\nSir Accolon, said king Arthur, mercy shalt thou have, because I feel by\nthy words at this time thou knewest not my person. But I understand\nwell by thy words that thou hast agreed to the death of my person, and\ntherefore thou art a traitor; but I blame thee the less, for my sister\nMorgan le Fay by her false crafts made thee to agree and consent to her\nfalse lusts, but I shall be sore avenged upon her and I live, that all\nChristendom shall speak of it. God knoweth I have honoured her and\nworshipped her more than all my kin, and more have I trusted her than\nmine own wife, and all my kin after. Then Sir Arthur called the keepers\nof the field, and said, Sirs, come hither, for here are we two knights\nthat have fought unto a great damage unto us both, and like each one of\nus to have slain other, if it had happed so; and had any of us known\nother, here had been no battle, nor stroke stricken. Then all aloud\ncried Sir Accolon unto all the knights and men that were then there\ngathered together, and said to them in this manner: O lords, this noble\nknight that I have fought withal, the which me sore repenteth, is the\nmost man of prowess, of manhood, and of worship in the world, for it is\nhimself king Arthur, our alther liege lord, and with mishap and with\nmisadventure have I done this battle with the king and lord that I am\nholden withal.\n_How Arthur accorded the two brethren, and delivered the twenty\n knights, and how Sir Accolon died._\nThen all the people fell down on their knees, and cried king Arthur\nmercy. Mercy shall ye have, said Arthur: here may ye see what\nadventures befall oft time of errant knights, how that I have fought\nwith a knight of mine own unto my great damage and his both. But sirs,\nbecause I am sore hurt, and he both, and I had great need of a little\nrest, ye shall understand the opinion betwixt you two brethren: As to\nthee, Sir Damas, for whom I have been champion, and won the field of\nthis knight, yet will I judge because ye Sir Damas are called an\norgulous knight, and full of villainy, and not worth of prowess of your\ndeeds, therefore I will that ye give unto your brother all the whole\nmanor with the appurtenance, under this form, that Sir Ontzlake hold\nthe manor of you, and yearly to give you a palfrey to ride upon, for\nthat will become you better to ride on than upon a courser. Also I\ncharge thee, Sir Damas, upon pain of death, that thou never distress no\nknights errant that ride on their adventure. And also that thou restore\nthese twenty knights that thou hast long kept prisoners of all their\nharness that they be content for, and if any of them come to my court\nand complain of thee, by my head thou shalt die therefore. Also, Sir\nOntzlake, as to you, because ye are named a good knight, and full of\nprowess, and true and gentle in all your deeds, this shall be your\ncharge: I will give you that in all goodly haste ye come unto me and my\ncourt, and ye shall be a knight of mine, and if your deeds be\nthereafter I shall so prefer you, by the grace of God, that ye shall in\nshort time be in ease for to live as worshipfully as your brother Sir\nDamas.\u2014God thank your largeness of your goodness and of your bounty,\nand I shall be from henceforth at all times at your commandment: for,\nSir, said Sir Ontzlake, I was hurt but late with an adventurous knight\nthrough both my thighs, which grieved me sore, and else had I done this\nbattle with you. Would, said Arthur, it had been so, for then had not I\nbeen hurt as I am. I shall tell you the cause why: for I had not been\nhurt as I am had not it been mine own sword that was stolen from me by\ntreason; and this battle was ordained aforehand to have slain me, and\nso it was brought to the purpose by false treason, and by false\nenchantment. Alas, said Sir Ontzlake, that is great pity, that ever so\nnoble a man as ye are of your deeds and prowess, that any man or woman\nmight find in their hearts to work any treason against you. I shall\nreward them, said Arthur, in short time by the grace of God. Now tell\nme, said Arthur, how far am I from Camelot? Sir, ye are two days\u2019\njourney therefrom. I would fain be at some place of worship, said Sir\nArthur, that I might rest me. Sir, said Sir Ontzlake, hereby is a rich\nabbey of your elders\u2019 foundation, of Nuns, but three mile hence. So the\nking took his leave of all the people, and mounted upon horseback, and\nSir Accolon with him. And when they were come to the abbey, he let\nfetch leeches and search his wounds and Accolon\u2019s both, but Sir Accolon\ndied within four days, for he had bled so much blood that he might not\nlive, but king Arthur was well recovered. So when Accolon was dead he\nlet send him on an horse-bier with six knights unto Camelot, and said,\nBear him to my sister Morgan le Fay, and say that I send her him to a\npresent, and tell her that I have my sword Excalibur, and the scabbard.\nSo they departed with the body.\n_How Morgan would have slain Sir Uriens her husband, and how Sir Uwaine\n her son saved him._\nThe mean while Morgan le Fay had wend king Arthur had been dead. So on\na day she espied king Uriens lay in his bed sleeping, then she called\nunto her a maiden of her counsel, and said: Go fetch me my lord\u2019s\nsword, for I saw never better time to slay him than now. O Madam, said\nthe damsel, and ye slay my lord, ye can never escape. Care not you,\nsaid Morgan le Fay, for now I see my time in the which it is best to do\nit, and therefore hie thee fast, and fetch me the sword. Then the\ndamsel departed, and found Sir Uwaine sleeping upon a bed in another\nchamber, so she went unto Sir Uwaine, and awaked him, and bad him,\nArise, and wait on my lady your mother, for she will slay the king your\nfather sleeping in his bed, for I go to fetch his sword. Well, said Sir\nUwaine, go on your way, and let me deal. Anon the damsel brought Morgan\nthe sword with quaking hands, and she lightly took the sword, and\npulled it out, and went boldly unto the bed-side, and awaited how and\nwhere she might slay him best. And as she lift up the sword to smite,\nSir Uwaine lept unto his mother, and caught her by the hand, and said,\nAh, fiend, what wilt thou do? And thou wert not my mother, with this\nsword I should smite off thy head. Ah, said Sir Uwaine, men say that\nMerlin was begotten of a devil, but I may say an earthly devil bare me.\nOh fair son Uwaine, have mercy upon me; I was tempted with a devil,\nwherefore I cry thee mercy; I will never more do so; and save my\nworship and discover me not. On this covenant, said Sir Uwaine, I will\nforgive it you, so ye will never be about to do such deeds. Nay, son,\nsaid she, and that I make you assurance.\n_How queen Morgan le Fay made great sorrow for the death of Accolon,\n and how she stole away the scabbard from Arthur._\nThen came tidings unto Morgan le Fay that Accolon was dead, and his\nbody brought unto the church, and how king Arthur had his sword again.\nBut when queen Morgan wist that Accolon was dead she was so sorrowful\nthat near her heart to burst. But because she would not it were known,\noutward she kept her countenance, and made no semblance of sorrow. But\nwell she wist, and she abode till her brother Arthur came thither,\nthere should no gold go for her life.\nThen she went unto queen Guenever, and asked her leave to ride into the\ncountry. Ye may abide, said queen Guenever, till your brother the king\ncome home. I may not, said Morgan le Fay, for I have such hasty tidings\nthat I may not tarry. Well, said Guenever, ye may depart when ye will.\nSo early on the morn, or it was day, she took her horse and rode all\nthat day, and most part of the night, and on the morn by noon she came\nto the same abbey of nuns, whereas lay king Arthur, and she, knowing he\nwas there, asked where he was: and they answered how he had laid him in\nhis bed to sleep, for he had had but little rest these three nights.\nWell, said she, I charge you that none of you awake him till I do. And\nthen she alight off her horse, and thought for to steal away Excalibur\nhis sword, and so she went straight unto his chamber, and no man durst\ndisobey her commandment, and there she found Arthur asleep in his bed,\nand Excalibur in his right hand naked. When she saw that, she was\npassing heavy that she might not come by the sword without she had\nawaked him, and then she wist well she had been dead. Then she took the\nscabbard, and went her way on horseback. When the king awoke and missed\nhis scabbard, he was wroth, and he asked who had been there, and they\nsaid his sister queen Morgan had been there, and had put the scabbard\nunder her mantle, and was gone. Alas, said Arthur, falsely have ye\nwatched me. Sir, said they all, we durst not disobey your sister\u2019s\ncommandment. Ah, said the king, let fetch the best horse that may be\nfound, and bid Sir Ontzlake arm him in all haste, and take another good\nhorse and ride with me. So anon the king and Ontzlake were well armed,\nand rode after this lady; and so they came by a cross, and found a\ncowherd, and they asked the poor man if there came any lady late riding\nthat way. Sir, said this poor man, right late came a lady riding with a\nforty horses, and to yonder forest she rode. Then they spurred their\nhorses and followed fast, and within awhile Arthur had a sight of\nMorgan le Fay; then he chased as fast as he might. When she espied him\nfollowing her, she rode a greater pace through the forest till she came\nto a plain. And when she saw she might not escape, she rode unto a lake\nthereby, and said, Whatsoever becometh of me, my brother shall not have\nthis scabbard. And then she let throw the scabbard in the deepest of\nthe water, so it sank, for it was heavy of gold and precious stones.\nThen she rode into a valley where many great stones were, and when she\nsaw that she must be overtaken, she shaped herself, horse and man, by\nenchantment, unto a great marble stone. Anon withal came Sir Arthur and\nSir Ontzlake, whereas the king might not know his sister and her men,\nand one knight from another. Ah, said the king, here may ye see the\nvengeance of God, and now am I sorry that this misadventure is\nbefallen. And then he looked for the scabbard, but it would not be\nfound. So he returned to the abbey there he came from. So when Arthur\nwas gone she turned all into the likeness as she and they were before,\nand said, Sirs, now may we go where we will.\n_How Morgan le Fay saved a knight that should have been drowned, and\n how king Arthur returned home again._\nThen said Morgan, Saw ye Arthur my brother? Yea, said her knights,\nright well, and that ye should have found and we might have stirred\nfrom one stead, for by his warlike countenance he would have caused us\nto have fled. I believe you, said Morgan. Anon after as she rode she\nmet a knight leading another knight on his horse before him, bound hand\nand foot blindfold, to have drowned him in a fountain. When she saw\nthis knight so bound, she asked him. What will ye do with that knight?\nLady, said he, I will drown him. For what cause? she asked. For I found\nhim with my wife, and she shall have the same death anon. That were\npity, said Morgan le Fay: now what say ye, knight, is it truth that he\nsaith of you? she said to the knight that should be drowned. Nay truly,\nmadam, he saith not right of me. Of whence be ye? said Morgan le Fay,\nand of what country? I am of the court of king Arthur, and my name is\nManassen, cousin unto Accolon of Gaul. Ye say well, said she, and for\nthe love of him ye shall be delivered, and ye shall have your adversary\nin the same case ye be in. So Manassen was loosed and the other knight\nbound. And anon Manassen unarmed him, and armed himself in his harness,\nand so mounted on horseback, and the knight afore him, and so threw him\ninto the fountain and drowned him. And then he rode unto Morgan again,\nand asked her if she would anything unto king Arthur. Tell him that I\nrescued thee not for the love of him but for the love of Accolon, and\ntell him I fear him not while I can make me and them that be with me in\nlikeness of stones; and let him wit I can do much more when I see my\ntime. And so she departed into the country of Gore, and there was she\nrichly received, and made her castles and towns passing strong, for\nalways she drad much king Arthur. When the king had well rested him at\nthe abbey he rode unto Camelot, and found his queen and his barons\nright glad of his coming. And when they heard of his strange adventures\nas is afore rehearsed, they all had marvel of the falsehood of Morgan\nle Fay: many knights wished her burnt. Then came Manassen to the court\nand told the king of his adventure. Well, said the king, she is a kind\nsister, I shall so be avenged on her and I live, that all christendom\nshall speak of it. So on the morn there came a damsel from Morgan to\nthe king, and she brought with her the richest mantle that ever was\nseen in that court, for it was set as full of precious stones as one\nmight stand by another, and there were the richest stones that ever the\nking saw. And the damsel said, Your sister sendeth you this mantle, and\ndesireth that ye should take this gift of her, and in what thing she\nhath offended you she will amend it at your own pleasure. When the king\nbeheld this mantle it pleased him much, but he said but little.\n_How the damsel of the lake saved king Arthur from a mantle which\n should have burnt him._\nWith that came the damsel of the lake unto the king, and said, Sir, I\nmust speak with you in private. Say on, said the king, what ye will.\nSir, said the damsel, put not on you this mantle till ye have seen\nmore, and in no wise let it not come on you, nor on no knight of yours,\ntill ye command the bringer thereof to put it upon her. Well, said king\nArthur, it shall be done as ye counsel me. And then he said unto the\ndamsel that came from his sister, Damsel, this mantle that ye have\nbrought me I will see it upon you. Sir, said she, it will not beseem me\nto wear a king\u2019s garment. By my head, said Arthur, ye shall wear it or\nit come on my back, or any man\u2019s that here is. And so the king made it\nto be put upon her, and forthwithal she fell down dead, and never more\nspake word after, and burnt to coals. Then was the king wonderly wroth,\nmore than he was toforehand, and said unto king Uriens, My sister your\nwife is alway about to betray me, and well I wot either ye, or my\nnephew your son, is of counsel with her to have me destroyed; but as\nfor you, said the king to king Uriens, I deem not greatly that ye be of\nher counsel, for Accolon confessed to me by his own mouth, that she\nwould have destroyed you as well as me, therefore I hold you excused;\nbut as for your son Sir Uwaine, I hold him suspected, therefore I\ncharge you put him out of my court. So Sir Uwaine was discharged. And\nwhen Sir Gawaine wist that, he made him ready to go with him, and said:\nWho so banisheth my cousin german shall banish me. So they two departed\nand rode into a great forest. And so they came to an abbey of monks,\nand there were well lodged. But when the king wist that Sir Gawaine was\ndeparted from the court there was made great sorrow among all the\nestates. Now, said Gaheris, Gawaine\u2019s brother, we have lost two good\nknights for the love of one. So on the morn they heard their masses in\nthe abbey, and so they rode forth till they came to a great forest;\nthen was Sir Gawaine ware in a valley by a turret, of twelve fair\ndamsels, and two knights armed on great horses, and the damsels went to\nand fro by a tree. And then was Sir Gawaine ware how there hung a white\nshield on that tree, and ever as the damsels came by it they spit upon\nit, and some threw mire upon the shield.\n_How Sir Gawaine and Sir Uwaine met with twelve fair damsels, and how\n they complained on Sir Marhaus._\nThen Sir Gawaine and Sir Uwaine went and saluted them, and asked why\nthey did that despite to the shield. Sirs, said the damsels, we shall\ntell you. There is a knight in this country that owneth this white\nshield, and he is a passing good man of his hands, but he hateth all\nladies and gentlewomen, and therefore we do all this despite to the\nshield. I shall say you, said Sir Gawaine, it beseemeth evil a good\nknight to despise all ladies and gentlewomen, and peradventure though\nhe hate you he hath some cause, and peradventure he loveth in some\nother places ladies and gentlewomen, and to be loved again, and he be\nsuch a man of prowess as ye speak of. Now what is his name? Sir, said\nthey, his name is Marhaus, the king\u2019s son of Ireland. I know him well,\nsaid Sir Uwaine, he is a passing good knight as any is on live, for I\nsaw him once proved at a justs where many knights were gathered, and\nthat time there might no man withstand him. Ah! said Sir Gawaine,\ndamsels, methinketh ye are to blame, for it is to suppose he that hung\nthat shield there he will not be long therefrom, and then may those\nknights match him on horseback, and that is more your worship than\nthus; for I will abide no longer to see a knight\u2019s shield dishonoured.\nAnd therewith Sir Uwaine and Gawaine departed a little from them, and\nthen were they ware where Sir Marhaus came riding on a great horse\nstraight towards them. And when the twelve damsels saw Sir Marhaus they\nfled into the turret as they were wild, so that some of them fell by\nthe way. Then the one of the knights of the tower dressed his shield,\nand said on high, Sir Marhaus, defend thee. And so they ran together\nthat the knight brake his spear on Marhaus, and Sir Marhaus smote him\nso hard that he brake his neck and the horse\u2019s back. That saw the other\nknight of the turret, and dressed him toward Marhaus, and they met so\neagerly together that the knight of the turret was soon smitten down,\nhorse and man, stark dead.\n_How Sir Marhaus justed with Sir Gawaine and Sir Uwaine, and overthrew\n them both._\nAnd then Sir Marhaus rode unto his shield, and saw how it was defouled,\nand said, Of this despite I am a part avenged, but for her love that\ngave me this white shield I shall wear thee, and hang mine where thou\nwast: and so he hanged it about his neck. Then he rode straight unto\nSir Gawaine and to Sir Uwaine, and asked them what they did there. They\nanswered him that they came from king Arthur\u2019s court for to see\nadventures. Well, said Marhaus, here am I ready, an adventurous knight\nthat will fulfil any adventure that ye will desire. And so departed\nfrom them to fetch his range. Let him go, said Sir Uwaine unto Sir\nGawaine, for he is a passing good knight as any is living: I would not\nby my will that any of us were matched with him. Nay, said Sir Gawaine,\nnot so; it were shame to us were he not assayed, were he never so good\na knight. Well, said Sir Uwaine, I will assay him afore you, for I am\nmore weaker than ye, and if he smite me down then may ye revenge me. So\nthese two knights came together with great random, that Sir Uwaine\nsmote Sir Marhaus that his spear brast in pieces on the shield, and Sir\nMarhaus smote him so sore that horse and man he bare to the earth, and\nhurt Sir Uwaine on the left side. Then Sir Marhaus turned his horse and\nrode toward Gawaine with his spear. And when Sir Gawaine saw that, he\ndressed his shield, and they aventred their spears, and they came\ntogether with all the might of their horses, that either knight smote\nother so hard in the midst of their shields, but Sir Gawaine\u2019s spear\nbrake, but Sir Marhaus\u2019s spear held; and therewith Sir Gawaine and his\nhorse rushed down to the earth. And lightly Sir Gawaine rose upon his\nfeet, and pulled out his sword, and dressed him toward Sir Marhaus on\nfoot. And Sir Marhaus saw that, and pulled out his sword, and began to\ncome to Sir Gawaine on horseback. Sir knight, said Sir Gawaine, alight\non foot, or else I will slay thy horse. Gramercy, said Sir Marhaus, of\nyour gentleness, ye teach me courtesy, for it is not for one knight to\nbe on foot and the other on horseback. And therewith Sir Marhaus set\nhis spear against a tree and alighted, and tied his horse to a tree,\nand dressed his shield, and either came unto other eagerly, and smote\ntogether with their swords that their shields flew in cantels, and they\nbruised their helms and their hauberks, and wounded either other. But\nSir Gawaine, fro it passed nine of the clock waxed ever stronger and\nstronger, till it came to the hour of noon, and thrice his might was\nincreased. All this espied Sir Marhaus, and had great wonder how his\nmight increased, and so they wounded other passing sore. And then when\nit was past noon, and when it drew toward even-song, Sir Gawaine\u2019s\nstrength feebled and waxed passing faint, that unnethes he might dure\nany longer, and Sir Marhaus was then bigger and bigger. Sir knight,\nsaid Sir Marhaus, I have well felt that ye are a passing good knight,\nand a marvellous man of might as ever I felt any, while it lasteth, and\nour quarrels are not great, and therefore it were pity to do you hurt,\nfor I feel ye are passing feeble. Ah, said Sir Gawaine, gentle knight,\nye say the word that I should say. And therewith they took off their\nhelms and either kissed other, and there they swore together either to\nlove other as brethren. And Sir Marhaus prayed Sir Gawaine to lodge\nwith him that night. And so they took their horses and rode toward Sir\nMarhaus\u2019s house. And as they rode by the way, Sir knight, said Sir\nGawaine, I have marvel that so valiant a man as ye be love no ladies\nnor damsels. Sir, said Sir Marhaus, they name me wrongfully those that\ngive me that name, but well I wot it be the damsels of the turret that\nso name me, and other such as they be. Now shall I tell you for what\ncause I hate them. For they be sorceresses and enchanters many of them,\nand be a knight never so good of his body and full of prowess as man\nmay be, they will make him a stark coward to have the better of him,\nand this is the principal cause that I hate them; and to all good\nladies and gentlewomen I owe my service as a knight ought to do. As the\nbook rehearseth in French, there were many knights that overmatched Sir\nGawaine, for all the thrice-might that he had: Sir Launcelot de Lake,\nSir Tristram, Sir Bors de Ganis, Sir Percivale, Sir Pelleas, and Sir\nMarhaus, these six knights had the better of Sir Gawaine. Then within a\nlittle while they came to Sir Marhaus\u2019s place, which was in a little\npriory, and there they alight, and ladies and damsels unarmed them and\nhastily looked to their hurts, for they were all three hurt. And so\nthey had all three good lodging with Sir Marhaus, and good cheer: for\nwhen he wist that they were king Arthur\u2019s sister\u2019s sons, he made them\nall the cheer that lay in his power. And so they sojourned there a\nseven nights, and were well eased of their wounds, and at the last\ndeparted. Now, said Sir Marhaus, we will not part so lightly, for I\nwill bring you through the forest: and rode day by day well a seven\ndays or they found any adventure. At the last they came into a great\nforest, that was named the country and forest of Arroy, and the country\nof strange adventures. In this country, said Sir Marhaus, came never\nknight since it was christened, but he found strange adventures. And so\nthey rode and came into a deep valley full of stones, and thereby they\nsaw a fair stream of water; above thereby was the head of the stream, a\nfair fountain, and three damsels sitting thereby. And then they rode to\nthem, and either saluted other, and the eldest had a garland of gold\nabout her head, and she was threescore winter of age or more, and her\nhair was white under the garland. The second damsel was of thirty\nwinter of age, with a circlet of gold about her head. The third damsel\nwas but fifteen year of age, and a garland of flowers about her head.\nWhen these knights had so beheld them, they asked them the cause why\nthey sat at that fountain. We be here, said the damsels, for this\ncause, if we may see any errant knights, to teach them unto strange\nadventures, and ye be three knights that seek adventures, and we be\nthree damsels, and therefore each one of you must choose one of us. And\nwhen ye have done so we will lead you unto three high ways, and there\neach of you shall choose a way, and his damsel with him. And this day\ntwelvemonth ye must meet here again, and God send you your lives, and\nthereto ye must plight your troth. This is well said, said Sir Marhaus.\n_How Sir Marhaus, Sir Gawaine, and Sir Uwaine met three damsels, and\n each of them took one._\nNow shall every each of us choose a damsel. I shall tell you, said Sir\nUwaine: I am the youngest and most weakest of you both, therefore I\nwill have the eldest damsel, for she hath seen much and can help me\nbest when I have need, for I have most need of help of you both. Now,\nsaid Sir Marhaus, I will have the damsel of thirty winter age, for she\nfallest best to me. Well, said Sir Gawaine, I thank you, for ye have\nleft me the youngest and the fairest, and she is most liefest to me.\nThen every damsel took her knight by the reins of his bridle, and\nbrought them to the three ways, and there was their oath made to meet\nat the fountain that day twelvemonth and they were living, and so they\nkissed and departed, and every each knight set his lady behind him. And\nSir Uwaine took the way that lay west, and Sir Marhaus took the way\nthat lay south, and Sir Gawaine took the way that lay north.\nNow will we begin at Sir Gawaine that held that way till he came unto a\nfair manor, where dwelled an old knight and a good householder, and\nthere Sir Gawaine asked the knight if he knew any adventures in that\ncountry. I shall shew you some to-morn, said the old knight, and that\nmarvellous. So on the morn they rode into the forest of adventures till\nthey came to a lawn, and thereby they found a cross, and as they stood\nand hoved there came by them the fairest knight and the seemliest man\nthat ever they saw, making the greatest dole that ever man made. And\nthen he was ware of Sir Gawaine, and saluted him, and prayed God to\nsend him much worship. As to that, said Sir Gawaine, Gramercy! Also, I\npray to God that he send you honour and worship. Ah, said the knight, I\nmay lay that aside, for sorrow and shame cometh to me after worship.\n_How a knight and a dwarf strove for a lady._\nAnd therewith he passed unto the one side of the lawn. And on the other\nside Sir Gawaine saw ten knights that hoved still, and made them ready\nwith their shields and spears against that one knight that came by Sir\nGawaine. Then this one knight aventred a great spear, and one of the\nten knights encountered with him, but this woful knight smote him so\nhard that he fell over his horse tail. So this same dolorous knight\nserved them all, that at the least way he smote down horse and man, and\nall he did with one spear. And so when they were all ten on foot they\nwent to that one knight, and he stood stone still, and suffered them to\npull him down off his horse, and bound him hand and foot, and tied him\nunder the horse belly, and so led him with them. Oh, said Sir Gawaine,\nthis is a doleful sight, to see the yonder knight so to be entreated,\nand it seemeth by the knight that he suffereth them to bind him so, for\nhe maketh no resistance. No, said his host, that is truth, for and he\nwould they all were too weak so to do him. Sir, said the damsel unto\nSir Gawaine, me seemeth it were your worship to help that dolorous\nknight, for me thinketh he is one of the best knights that ever I saw.\nI would do for him, said Sir Gawaine, but it seemeth that he will have\nno help. Then said the damsel, me seemeth ye have no lust to help him.\nThus as they talked they saw a knight on that other side of the lawn,\nall armed save the head. And on the other side there came a dwarf on\nhorseback all armed save the head, with a great mouth and a short nose.\nAnd when the dwarf came nigh he said, Where is the lady should meet us\nhere? and therewithal she came forth out of the wood. And then they\nbegan to strive for the lady; for the knight said he would have her,\nand the dwarf said he would have her. Will we do well? said the dwarf;\nyonder is a knight at the cross, let us put it both upon him, and as he\ndeemeth so shall it be. I will well, said the knight; and so they went\nall three unto Sir Gawaine, and told him wherefore they strove. Well\nsirs, said he, will ye put the matter into my hand? Yea, they said\nboth. Now, damsel, said Sir Gawaine, ye shall stand betwixt them both,\nand whether ye list better to go to, he shall have you. And when she\nwas set between them both she left the knight and went to the dwarf.\nAnd the dwarf took her and went his way singing, and the knight went\nhis way with great mourning. Then came there two knights all armed, and\ncried on high, Sir Gawaine, knight of king Arthur, make thee ready in\nall haste and just with me. So they ran together that either fell down.\nAnd then on foot they drew their swords and did full actually. In the\nmeanwhile the other knight went to the damsel and asked her why she\nabode with that knight, and if ye would abide with me, I will be your\nfaithful knight. And with you will I be, said the damsel, for with Sir\nGawaine I may not find in mine heart to be with him: for now here was\none knight discomfited ten knights, and at the last he was cowardly led\naway; and therefore let us two go our way whilst they fight. And Sir\nGawaine fought with that other knight long, but at the last they\naccorded both. And then the knight prayed Sir Gawaine to lodge with him\nthat night. So as Sir Gawaine went with this knight he asked him, What\nknight is he in this country that smote down the ten knights? For when\nhe had done so manfully, he suffered them to bind him hand and foot,\nand so led him away. Ah! said the knight, that is the best knight I\ntrow in the world, and the most man of prowess, and he hath been served\nso as he was even more than ten times, and his name hight Sir Pelleas,\nand he loveth a great lady in this country, and her name is Ettard. And\nso when he loved her there was cried in this country a great justs\nthree days: and all the knights of this country were there and\ngentlewomen; and who that proved him the best knight should have a\npassing good sword and a circlet of gold, and the circlet the knight\nshould give it to the fairest lady that was at the justs. And this\nknight, Sir Pelleas, was the best knight that was there, and there were\nfive hundred knights, but there was never man that ever Sir Pelleas met\nwithal, but he struck him down, or else from his horse. And every day\nof three days he struck down twenty knights, therefore they gave him\nthe prize. And forthwithal he went there as the lady Ettard was, and\ngave her the circlet, and said openly she was the fairest lady that\nthere was, and that would he prove upon any knight that would say nay.\n_How king Pelleas suffered himself to be taken prisoner because he\n would have a sight of his lady, and how Sir Gawaine promised him for\n to get to him the love of his lady._\nAnd so he chose her for his sovereign lady, and never to love other but\nher. But she was so proud that she had scorn of him, and said she would\nnever love him, though he would die for her. Wherefore all ladies and\ngentlewomen had scorn of her that she was so proud, for there were\nfairer than she, and there was none that was there but and Sir Pelleas\nwould have proffered them love, they would have loved him for his noble\nprowess. And so this knight promised the lady Ettard to follow her into\nthis country, and never to leave her till she loved him. And thus he is\nhere the most part nigh her, and lodged by a priory, and every week she\nsendeth knights to fight with him. And when he hath put them to the\nworse, then will he suffer them wilfully to take him prisoner, because\nhe would have a sight of this lady. And alway she doth him great\ndespite, for sometimes she maketh her knights to tie him to his horse\ntail, and some to bind him under the horse belly. Thus in the most\nshamefullest wise that she can think he is brought to her. And all she\ndoth it for to cause him to leave this country, and to leave his\nloving. But all this cannot make him to leave, for and he would have\nfought on foot he might have had the better of the ten knights as well\non foot as on horseback. Alas! said Sir Gawaine, it is great pity of\nhim, and after this night I will seek him to-morrow in this forest, to\ndo him all the help that I can. So on the morn Sir Gawaine took his\nleave of his host Sir Carados, and rode into the forest. And at the\nlast he met with Sir Pelleas making great moan out of measure, so each\nof them saluted other, and asked him why he made such sorrow. And as it\nis above rehearsed, Sir Pelleas told Sir Gawaine: But alway I suffer\nher knights to fare so with me as ye saw yesterday, in trust at the\nlast to win her love, for she knoweth well all her knights should not\nlightly win me and me list to fight with them to the uttermost.\nWherefore I loved her not so sore I had lever die an hundred times, and\nI might die so oft, rather than I would suffer that despite; but I\ntrust she will have pity upon me at the last, for love causeth many a\ngood knight to suffer to have his intent, but, alas! I am unfortunate.\nAnd therewith he made so great dole and sorrow that unnethe he might\nhold him on horseback. Now, said Sir Gawaine, leave your mourning, and\nI shall promise you by the faith of my body, to do all that lieth in my\npower to get you the love of your lady, and thereto I will plight you\nmy troth. Ah, said Sir Pelleas, of what court are ye? tell me, I pray\nyou, my good friend. And then Sir Gawaine said, I am of the court of\nking Arthur, and his sister\u2019s son, and king Lot of Orkney was my\nfather, and my name is Sir Gawaine. And then he said, My name is Sir\nPelleas, born in the Isles, and of many isles I am lord, and never have\nI loved lady nor damsel till now in an unhappy time; and Sir knight,\nsince ye are so nigh cousin unto king Arthur, and a king\u2019s son,\ntherefore betray me not but help me, for I may never come by her but by\nsome good knight, for she is in a strong castle here fast by within\nthis four mile, and over all this country she is lady of. And so I may\nnever come to her presence but as I suffer her knights to take me, and\nbut if I did so that I might have a sight of her, I had been dead long\nor this time, and yet fair word had I never of her, but when I am\nbrought tofore her she rebuketh me in the foulest manner. And then they\ntake my horse and harness, and put me out of the gates, and she will\nnot suffer me to eat nor drink, and always I offer me to be her\nprisoner, but that she will not suffer me, for I would desire no more\nwhat pains soever I had, so that I might have a sight of her daily.\nWell, said Sir Gawaine, all this shall I amend, and ye will do as I\nshall devise. I will have your horse and your armour, and so will I\nride to her castle, and tell her that I have slain you, and so shall I\ncome within her to cause her to cherish me, and then shall I do my true\npart that ye shall not fail to have the love of her.\n_How Sir Gawaine came to the lady Ettard, and how Sir Pelleas found\n them sleeping._\nAnd therewith Sir Gawaine plight his troth unto Sir Pelleas to be true\nand faithful unto him. So each one plight their troth to other, and so\nthey changed horses and harness, and Sir Gawaine departed and came to\nthe castle whereas stood the pavilions of this lady without the gate.\nAnd as soon as Ettard had espied Sir Gawaine she fled in toward the\ncastle. Sir Gawaine spake on high, and bad her abide, for he was not\nSir Pelleas: I am another knight that hath slain Sir Pelleas. Do off\nyour helm, said the lady Ettard, that I may see your visage. And so\nwhen she saw that it was not Sir Pelleas she made him alight, and led\nhim unto her castle, and asked him faithfully whether he had slain Sir\nPelleas. And he said her yea, and told her his name was Sir Gawaine of\nthe court of king Arthur, and his sister\u2019s son. Truly, said she, that\nis great pity, for he was a passing good knight of his body, but of all\nmen on live I hated him most, for I could never be quit of him. And for\nye have slain him I shall be your lady, and to do anything that may\nplease you. So she made Sir Gawaine good cheer. Then Sir Gawaine said\nthat he loved a lady, and by no mean she would love him. She is to\nblame, said Ettard, and she will not love you, for ye that be so well\nborn a man, and such a man of prowess, there is no lady in the world\ntoo good for you. Will ye, said Sir Gawaine, promise me to do all that\nye may, by the faith of your body, to get me the love of my lady? Yea,\nsir, said she, and that I promise you by the faith of my body. Now,\nsaid Sir Gawaine, it is yourself that I love so well, therefore I pray\nyou hold your promise. I may not choose, said the lady Ettard, but if I\nshould be forsworn. And so she granted him to fulfil all his desire.\nSo it was then in the month of May that she and Sir Gawaine went out of\nthe castle and supped in a pavilion, and in another pavilion she laid\nher damsels, and in the third pavilion she laid part of her knights,\nfor then she had no dread of Sir Pelleas. And there Sir Gawaine abode\nwith her in that pavilion two days and two nights. And on the third day\nin the morning early Sir Pelleas armed him, for he had never slept\nsince Sir Gawaine departed from him. For Sir Gawaine had promised him,\nby the faith of his body, to come to him unto his pavilion by that\npriory within the space of a day and a night. Then Sir Pelleas mounted\nupon horseback, and came to the pavilions that stood without the\ncastle, and found in the first pavilion three knights in three beds,\nand three squires lying at their feet. Then went he to the second\npavilion and found four gentlewomen lying in four beds. And then he\nwent to the third pavilion and found Sir Gawaine with his lady Ettard,\nand when he saw that his heart well nigh burst for sorrow, and said:\nAlas! that ever a knight should be found so false. And then he took his\nhorse, and might not abide no longer for pure sorrow. And when he had\nridden nigh half a mile, he turned again and thought to slay them both:\nand when he saw them both sleeping fast, unnethe he might hold him on\nhorseback for sorrow, and said thus to himself, Though this knight be\nnever so false I will never slay him sleeping; for I will never destroy\nthe high order of knighthood. And therewith he departed again. And or\nhe had ridden half a mile he returned again, and thought then to slay\nthem both, making the greatest sorrow that ever man made. And when he\ncame to the pavilions he tied his horse to a tree, and pulled out his\nsword naked in his hand, and went to them there as they lay, and yet he\nthought it were shame to slay them sleeping, and laid the naked sword\noverthwart both their throats, and so took his horse and rode his way.\nAnd when Sir Pelleas came to his pavilions he told his knights and his\nsquires how he had sped, and said thus to them: For your true and good\nservice ye have done me I shall give you all my goods, for I will go\nunto my bed, and never arise until I am dead. And when that I am dead I\ncharge you that ye take the heart out of my body and bear it her\nbetwixt two silver dishes, and tell her how I saw her with the false\nknight Sir Gawaine. Right so Sir Pelleas unarmed himself and went unto\nhis bed, making marvellous dole and sorrow.\nThen Sir Gawaine and Ettard awoke out of their sleep, and found the\nnaked sword overthwart their throats. Then she knew well it was Sir\nPelleas\u2019 sword. Alas! said she to Sir Gawaine, ye have betrayed me and\nSir Pelleas both, for ye told me ye had slain him, and now I know well\nit is not so, he is on live. And if Sir Pelleas had been as uncourteous\nto you as ye have been to him, ye had been a dead knight: but ye have\ndeceived me and betrayed me falsely, that all ladies and damsels may\nbeware by you and me. And therewith Sir Gawaine made him ready and went\ninto the forest. So it happed then that the damsel of the lake Nimue\nmet with a knight of Sir Pelleas, that went on his foot in the forest\nmaking great dole, and she asked him the cause. And so the woful knight\ntold her how that his master and lord was betrayed through a knight and\na lady, and how he will never arise out of his bed till he be dead.\nBring me to him, said she, anon, and I will warrant his life, he shall\nnot die for love, and she that hath caused him so to love she shall be\nin as evil plight as he is or it be long, for it is no joy of such a\nproud lady that will have no mercy of such a valiant knight. Anon that\nknight brought her unto him. And when she saw him lie in his bed, she\nthought she saw never so likely a knight: and therewith she threw an\nenchantment upon him, and he fell on sleep. And therewhile she rode\nunto the lady Ettard, and charged no man to awake him till she came\nagain. So within two hours she brought the lady Ettard thither, and\nboth ladies found him on sleep. Lo, said the damsel of the lake, ye\nought to be ashamed for to murder such a knight. And therewith she\nthrew such an enchantment upon her that she loved him sore, that well\nnigh she was out of her mind. Alas! said the lady Ettard, how is it\nbefallen unto me that I love now him that I have most hated of any men\nalive. That is the righteous judgment of God, said the damsel. And then\nanon Sir Pelleas awaked, and looked upon Ettard. And when he saw her he\nknew her, and then he hated her more than any woman alive, and said:\nAway traitress, come never in my sight. And when she heard him say so,\nshe wept and made great sorrow out of measure.\n_How Sir Pelleas loved no more Ettard by means of the damsel of the\n lake, whom he loved ever after._\nSir knight Pelleas, said the damsel of the lake, take your horse and\ncome forth with me out of this country, and ye shall love a lady that\nshall love you. I will well, said Sir Pelleas, for this lady Ettard\nhath done me great despite and shame. And there he told her the\nbeginning and ending, and how he had purposed never to have arisen till\nthat he had been dead,\u2014and now I hate her as much as ever I loved her.\nThank me, said the damsel of the lake. Anon Sir Pelleas armed him, and\ntook his horse, and commanded his men to bring after his pavilions and\nhis stuff where the damsel of the lake would assign. So the lady Ettard\ndied for sorrow, and the damsel of the lake rejoiced Sir Pelleas, and\nloved together during their life days.\n_How Sir Marhaus rode with the damsel, and how he came to the duke of\n the South Marches._\nNow turn we unto Sir Marhaus that rode with the damsel of thirty winter\nof age southward. And so they came into a deep forest, and by fortune\nthey were nighted, and rode long in a deep way, and at the last they\ncame into a courtelage, and there they asked harbour. But the man of\nthe courtelage would not lodge them for no treaty that they could\ntreat. But thus much the good man said: And ye will take the adventure\nof your lodging, I shall bring you there ye shall be lodged. What\nadventure is that that I shall have for my lodging? said Sir Marhaus.\nYe shall wit when ye come there, said the good man. Sir, what adventure\nso it be bring me thither, I pray thee, said Sir Marhaus, for I am\nweary, my damsel and my horse. So the good man went and opened the\ngate, and within an hour he brought him unto a fair castle. And then\nthe poor man called the porter, and anon he was let into the castle,\nand so told the lord how he brought him a knight errant and a damsel\nthat would be lodged with him. Let him in, said the lord, it may happen\nhe shall repent that they took their lodging here. So Sir Marhaus was\nlet in with torch light, and there was a goodly sight of young men that\nwelcomed him. And then his horse was led into the stable, and he and\nthe damsel were brought into the hall, and there stood a mighty duke,\nand many goodly men about him. Then this lord asked him what he hight,\nand from whence he came, and with whom he dwelt. Sir, said he, I am a\nknight of king Arthur\u2019s, and knight of the Table Round, and my name is\nSir Marhaus, and born I am in Ireland. And then said the duke to him,\nThat me sore repenteth: the cause is this: for I love not thy lord, nor\nnone of thy fellows of the Table Round, and therefore ease thyself this\nnight as well as thou mayest, for as to-morn I and my six sons shall\nmatch with you. Is there no remedy but that I must have ado with you\nand your six sons at once? said Sir Marhaus. No, said the duke, for\nthis cause I made mine avow, for Sir Gawaine slew my seven sons in a\nrecounter, therefore I made mine avow that there should never knight of\nking Arthur\u2019s court lodge with me, or come there as I might have ado\nwith him, but that I would have a revenging of my sons\u2019 death. What is\nyour name? said Sir Marhaus; I require you tell me, and it please you.\nWit ye well that I am the duke of South Marches. Ah, said Sir Marhaus,\nI have heard say that ye have been a long time a great foe unto my lord\nArthur and to his knights. That shall ye feel to-morn, said the duke.\nShall I have ado with you? said Sir Marhaus. Yea, said the duke,\nthereof shalt thou not choose, and therefore take you to your chamber,\nand ye shall have all that to you belongeth. So Sir Marhaus departed,\nand was led to a chamber, and his damsel was led unto her chamber. And\non the morn the duke sent unto Sir Marhaus, and bad make him ready. And\nso Sir Marhaus arose and armed him, and then there was a mass sung\nafore him, and he brake his fast, and so mounted on horseback in the\ncourt of the castle, there they should do the battle. So there was the\nduke already on horseback, clean armed, and his six sons by him, and\nevery each had a spear in his hand, and so they encountered, where as\nthe duke and his two sons brake their spears upon him, but Sir Marhaus\nheld up his spear and touched none of them.\n_How Sir Marhaus fought with the duke and his six sons, and made them\n to yield them._\nThen came the four sons by couples, and two of them brake their spears,\nand so did the other two. And all this while Sir Marhaus touched them\nnot. Then Sir Marhaus ran to the duke, and smote him with his spear\nthat horse and man fell to the earth. And so he served his sons. And\nthen Sir Marhaus alight down, and bad the duke yield him or else he\nwould slay him. And then some of his sons recovered, and would have set\nupon Sir Marhaus. Then Sir Marhaus said to the duke, Cease thy sons, or\nelse I will do the uttermost to you all. When the duke saw he might not\nescape the death, he cried to his sons, and charged them to yield them\nto Sir Marhaus. And they kneeled all down and put the pommels of their\nswords to the knight, and so he received them. And then they holp up\ntheir father, and so by their common assent promised unto Sir Marhaus\nnever to be foes unto king Arthur, and thereupon at Whitsuntide after,\nto come he and his sons, and put them in the king\u2019s grace. Then Sir\nMarhaus departed, and within two days his damsel brought him where as\nwas a great tournament that the lady de Vawse had cried. And who that\ndid best should have a rich circlet of gold worth a thousand besaunts.\nAnd there Sir Marhaus did so nobly that he was renowned, and had some\ntime down forty knights, and so the circlet of gold was rewarded him.\nThen he departed from thence with great worship. And so within seven\nnights the damsel brought him to an earl\u2019s place, his name was the earl\nFergus, that after was Sir Tristram\u2019s knight. And this earl was but a\nyoung man, and late come into his lands, and there was a giant fast by\nhim that hight Taulurd, and he had another brother in Cornwall that\nhight Taulas, that Sir Tristram slew when he was out of his mind. So\nthis earl made his complaint unto Sir Marhaus, that there was a giant\nby him that destroyed all his lands, and how he durst nowhere ride nor\ngo for him. Sir, said the knight, whether useth he to fight on\nhorseback or on foot? Nay, said the earl, there may no horse bear him.\nWell, said Sir Marhaus, then will I fight with him on foot. So on the\nmorn Sir Marhaus prayed the earl that one of his men might bring him\nwhereas the giant was, and so he was, for he saw him sit under a tree\nof holly, and many clubs of iron and gisarms about him. So this knight\ndressed him to the giant, putting his shield afore him, and the giant\ntook an iron club in his hand, and at the first stroke he clave Sir\nMarhaus\u2019s shield in two pieces. And there he was in great peril, for\nthe giant was a wily fighter, but at the last Sir Marhaus smote off his\nright arm above the elbow. Then the giant fled, and the knight after\nhim, and so he drove him into a water, but the giant was so high that\nhe might not wade after him. And then Sir Marhaus made the earl\nFergus\u2019s man to fetch him stones, and with those stones the knight gave\nthe giant many sore knocks, till at the last he made him fall down into\nthe water, and so was he there dead. Then Sir Marhaus went unto the\ngiant\u2019s castle, and there he delivered twenty-four ladies and twelve\nknights out of the giant\u2019s prison, and there he had great riches\nwithout number, so that the days of his life he was never poor man.\nThen he returned to the earl Fergus, the which thanked him greatly and\nwould have given him half his lands, but he would none take. So Sir\nMarhaus dwelled with the earl nigh half a year, for he was sore bruised\nwith the giant, and at the last he took his leave. And as he rode by\nthe way, he met with Sir Gawaine and Sir Uwaine, and so by adventure he\nmet with four knights of king Arthur\u2019s court, the first was Sir\nSagramore le Desirous, Sir Osanna, Sir Dodinas le Savage, and Sir Felot\nof Listinoise; and there Sir Marhaus with one spear smote down these\nfour knights, and hurt them sore. So he departed to meet at his day\nafore set.\n_How Sir Uwaine rode with the damsel of threescore years of age, and\n how he got the prize at tourneying._\nNow turn we unto Sir Uwaine, that rode westward with his damsel of\nthreescore winter of age, and she brought him there as was a tournament\nnigh the march of Wales. And at that tournament Sir Uwaine smote down\nthirty knights, therefore was given him the prize, and that was a\ngerfalcon and a white steed trapped with cloth of gold. So then Sir\nUwaine did many strange adventures by the means of the old damsel, and\nso she brought him unto a lady that was called the lady of the Rock,\nthe which was much courteous. So there were in the country two knights\nthat were brethren, and they were called two perilous knights, the one\nhight Sir Edward of the Red Castle, and the other hight Sir Hue of the\nRed Castle. And these two brethren had disherited the lady of the Rock\nof a barony of lands by their extortion. And as this knight was lodged\nwith this lady, she made her complaint to him of these two knights.\nMadam, said Sir Uwaine, they are to blame, for they do against the high\norder of knighthood and the oath that they made; and if it like you I\nwill speak with them, because I am a knight of king Arthur\u2019s, and I\nwill entreat them with fairness; and if they will not, I shall do\nbattle with them, and in the defence of your right. Gramercy! said the\nlady, and there as I may not acquit you, God shall. So on the morn the\ntwo knights were sent for, that they should come hither to speak with\nthe lady of the Rock. And wit ye well they failed not, for they came\nwith an hundred horse. But when this lady saw them in this manner so\nbig, she would not suffer Sir Uwaine to go out to them upon no surety\nnor for no fair language, but she made him speak with them over a\ntower. But finally these two brethren would not be entreated, and\nanswered that they would keep that they had. Well, said Sir Uwaine,\nthen will I fight with one of you, and prove that ye do this lady\nwrong. That will we not, said they, for and we do battle we two will\nfight with one knight at once, and therefore if ye will fight so we\nwill be ready at what hour ye will assign. And if ye win us in battle\nthe lady shall have her lands again. Ye say well, said Sir Uwaine,\ntherefore make you ready, so that ye be here tomorn in the defence of\nthe lady\u2019s right.\n_How Sir Uwaine fought with two knights, and overcame them._\nSo was there agreement made on both parties, that no treason should be\nwrought on neither party. So then the knights departed and made them\nready. And that night Sir Uwaine had great cheer. And on the morn he\narose early and heard mass, and brake his fast, and so he rode unto the\nplain without the gates, where hoved the two brethren abiding him. So\nthey rode together passing sore, that Sir Edward and Sir Hue brake\ntheir spears upon Sir Uwaine. And Sir Uwaine smote Sir Edward that he\nfell over his horse, and yet his spear brast not. And then he spurred\nhis horse and came upon Sir Hue, and overthrew him; but they soon\nrecovered and dressed their shields and drew their swords, and bad Sir\nUwaine alight and do his battle to the uttermost. Then Sir Uwaine\navoided his horse suddenly, and put his shield afore him and drew his\nsword, and so they dressed together, and either gave other such\nstrokes, and there these two brethren wounded Sir Uwaine passing\ngrievously, that the lady of the Rock wend he should have died. And\nthus they fought together five hours as men enraged out of reason. And\nat the last Sir Uwaine smote Sir Edward upon the helm such a stroke\nthat his sword carved unto his collarbone, and then Sir Hue abated his\ncourage. But Sir Uwaine pressed fast to have slain him. That saw Sir\nHue: he kneeled down and yielded him to Sir Uwaine. And he of his\ngentleness received his sword, and took him by the hand and went into\nthe castle together. Then the lady of the Rock was passing glad, and\nthe other brother made great sorrow for his brother\u2019s death. Then the\nlady was restored of all her lands, and Sir Hue was commanded to be at\nthe court of king Arthur at the next feast of Pentecost. So Sir Uwaine\ndwelt with the lady nigh half a year, for it was long or he might be\nwhole of his great hurts. And so when it drew nigh the term-day that\nSir Gawaine, Sir Marhaus, and Sir Uwaine should meet at the cross way,\nthen every knight drew him thither to hold his promise that they had\nmade. And Sir Marhaus and Sir Uwaine brought their damsels with them,\nbut Sir Gawaine had lost his damsel, as it is afore rehearsed.\n_How at the year\u2019s end all three knights with their three damsels met\n at the fountain._\nRight so at the twelvemonth\u2019s end they met all three knights at the\nfountain, and their damsels. But the damsel that Sir Gawaine had could\nsay but little worship of him. So they departed from the damsels and\nrode through a great forest, and there they met with a messager that\ncame from king Arthur, that had sought them well nigh a twelvemonth\nthroughout all England, Wales, and Scotland, and charged if ever he\nmight find Sir Gawaine and Sir Uwaine, to bring them to the court\nagain. And then were they all glad. And so prayed they Sir Marhaus to\nride with them to the king\u2019s court. And so within twelve days they came\nto Camelot; and the king was passing glad of their coming, and so was\nall the court. Then the king made them to swear upon a book to tell him\nall their adventures that had befallen them that twelvemonth, and so\nthey did. And there was Sir Marhaus well known; for there were knights\nthat he had matched aforetime, and he was named one of the best knights\nliving. Against the feast of Pentecost came the damsel of the lake, and\nbrought with her Sir Pelleas. And at that high feast there was great\njusting of knights, and of all the knights that were at that justs Sir\nPelleas had the prize, and Sir Marhaus was named the next; but Sir\nPelleas was so strong that there might but few knights sit him a buffet\nwith a spear. And at that next feast Sir Pelleas and Sir Marhaus were\nmade knights of the Table Round, for there were two sieges void, for\ntwo knights were slain that twelvemonth; and great joy had king Arthur\nof Sir Pelleas and of Sir Marhaus. But Pelleas loved never after Sir\nGawaine, but as he spared him for the love of king Arthur. But ofttimes\nat justs and tournaments Sir Pelleas quit Sir Gawaine, for so it\nrehearseth in the book of French. So Sir Tristram many days after\nfought with Sir Marhaus in an island, and there they did a great\nbattle, but at the last Sir Tristram slew him. So Sir Tristram was\nwounded that hardly he might recover, and lay at a nunnery half a year.\nAnd Sir Pelleas was a worshipful knight, and was one of the four that\nachieved the Sangreal. And the damsel of the lake made by her means\nthat never he had ado with Sir Launcelot de Lake, for where Sir\nLauncelot was at any justs or any tournament she would not suffer him\nto be there that day, but if it were on the side of Sir Launcelot.\n Explicit liber quartus. Incipit liber quintus.\n_How twelve aged ambassadors of Rome came to king Arthur to demand\n truage for Britain._\nWhen king Arthur had after long war rested, and held a royal feast and\nTable Round with his allies of kings, princes, and noble knights all of\nthe Round Table, there came into his hall, he sitting in his throne\nroyal, twelve ancient men, bearing each of them a branch of olive in\ntoken that they came as ambassadors and messagers from the emperor\nLucius, which was called at that time Dictator or Procuror of the\nPublic Weal of Rome. Which said messagers, after their entering and\ncoming into the presence of king Arthur, did to him their obeisance in\nmaking to him reverence, and said to him in this wise: The high and\nmighty emperor Lucius sendeth to the king of Britain greeting,\ncommanding thee to acknowledge him for thy lord, and to send him the\ntruage due of this realm unto the empire, which thy father and other\ntofore thy predecessors have paid as is of record, and thou as rebel\nnot knowing him as thy sovereign, withholdest and retainest contrary to\nthe statutes and decrees made by the noble and worthy Julius Cesar,\nconqueror of this realm, and first emperor of Rome. And if thou refuse\nhis demand and commandment, know thou for certain that he shall make\nstrong war against thee, thy realms and lands, and shall chastise thee\nand thy subjects, that it shall be ensample perpetual unto all kings\nand princes for to deny their truage unto that noble empire which\ndomineth upon the universal world. Then when they had shewed the effect\nof their message, the king commanded them to withdraw them, and said he\nshould take advice of council, and give to them an answer. Then some of\nthe young knights hearing this their message would have run on them to\nhave slain them, saying that it was a rebuke unto all the knights there\nbeing present to suffer them to say so to the king. And anon the king\ncommanded that none of them upon pain of death to missay them, nor do\nthem any harm, and commanded a knight to bring them to their lodging,\nand see that they have all that is necessary and requisite for them\nwith the best cheer, and that no dainty be spared, for the Romans be\ngreat lords, and though their message please me not, nor my court, yet\nI must remember mine honour. After this the king let call all his lords\nand knights of the Round Table to council upon this matter, and desired\nthem to say their advice. Then Sir Cador of Cornwall spake first, and\nsaid, Sir, this message liketh me well, for we have many days rested us\nand have been idle, and now I hope ye shall make sharp war on the\nRomans, where I doubt not we shall get honour. I believe well, said\nArthur, that this matter pleaseth thee well, but these answers may not\nbe answered, for the demand grieveth me sore; for truly I will never\npay no truage to Rome, wherefore I pray you to counsel me. I have\nunderstood that Belinus and Brenius, kings of Britain, have had the\nempire in their hands many days, and also Constantine the son of queen\nHeleine, which is an open evidence that we owe no tribute to Rome, but\nof right we that be descended of them have right to claim the title of\nthe empire.\n_How the kings and lords promised to king Arthur aid and help against\n the Romans._\nThen answered king Anguish of Scotland, Sir, ye ought of right to be\nabove all other kings, for unto you is none like nor pareil in all\nChristendom, of knighthood ne of dignity, and I counsel you never to\nobey the Romans, for when they reigned on us they distressed our\nelders, and put this land to great extortions and tallages, wherefore I\nmake here mine avow to avenge me on them; and for to strengthen your\nquarrel I shall furnish twenty thousand good men of war, and wage them\non my costs, which shall await on you with myself, when it shall please\nyou. And the king of Little Britain granted him to the same thirty\nthousand; wherefore king Arthur thanked them. And then every man agreed\nto make war, and to aid after their power; that is to wit, the lord of\nWest Wales promised to bring thirty thousand men, and Sir Uwaine, Sir\nIder his son, with their cousins, promised to bring thirty thousand.\nThen Sir Launcelot with all other promised in likewise every man a\ngreat multitude. And when king Arthur understood their courages and\ngood wills he thanked them heartily, and after let call the ambassadors\nto hear their answer. And in presence of all his lords and knights he\nsaid to them in this wise: I will that ye return unto your lord and\nProcuror of the Common Weal for the Romans, and say to him, Of his\ndemand and commandment I set nothing, and that I know of no truage, ne\ntribute, that I owe to him, ne to none earthly prince, Christian ne\nheathen; but I pretend to have and occupy the sovereignty of the\nempire, wherein I am entitled by the right of my predecessors, sometime\nkings of this land; and say to him that I am deliberated, and fully\nconcluded, to go with mine army with strength and power unto Rome by\nthe grace of God to take possession in the empire, and subdue them that\nbe rebel. Wherefore I command him, and all them of Rome, that\nincontinent they make to me their homage, and to acknowledge me for\ntheir emperor and governor, upon pain that shall ensue. And then he\ncommanded his treasurer to give them great and large gifts, and to pay\nall their expenses, and assigned Sir Cador to convey them out of the\nland. And so they took their leave and departed, and took their\nshipping at Sandwich, and passed forth by Flanders, Almain, the\nmountains, and all Italy, until they came unto Lucius. And after the\nreverence made, they made relation of their answer, like as ye tofore\nhave heard. When the emperor Lucius had well understood their credence,\nhe was sore moved as he had been all enraged, and said: I had supposed\nthat Arthur would have obeyed to my commandment, and have served you\nhimself, as him well beseemed or any other king to do. O sir, said one\nof the senators, let be such vain words, for we let you wit that I and\nmy fellows were full sore afeard to behold his countenance; I fear me\nye have made a rod for yourself, for he intendeth to be lord of this\nempire, which sore is to be doubted if he come, for he is all another\nman than ye ween, and holdeth the most noble court of the world; all\nother kings ne princes may not compare unto his noble maintenance. On\nnew year\u2019s day we saw him in his estate, which was the royalest that\never we saw, for he was served at his table with nine kings and the\nnoblest fellowship of other princes, lords, and knights, that be in the\nworld, and every knight approved and like a lord, and holdeth Table\nRound: and in his person the most manly man that liveth, and is like to\nconquer all the world, for unto his courage it is too little: wherefore\nI advise you to keep well your marches and straits in the mountains;\nfor certainly he is a lord to be doubted. Well, said Lucius, before\nEaster I suppose to pass the mountains and so forth into France, and\nthere bereave him his lands with Genoese and other mighty warriors of\nTuscany and Lombardy. And I shall send for them all that be subjects\nand allied to the empire of Rome to come to mine aid. And forthwith\nsent old wise knights unto these countries following: first, to Ambage\nand Arrage, to Alisandrie, to Inde, to Hermonie where as the river of\nEuphrates runneth into Asia, to Affrike, and Europe the large, to\nErtaine and Elamie, to Arabie, Egypt, and to Damaske, to Damiete and\nCayer, to Capadoce, to Tarce, Turkey, Pounce, and Pampoille, to Surrie,\nand Galacie. And all these were subject to Rome, and many more, as\nGreece, Cyprus, Macedone, Calabre, Cateland, Portingale, with many\nthousands of Spaniards. Thus all these kings, dukes, and admirals\nassembled about Rome with sixteen kings at once, with great multitude\nof people. When the emperor understood their coming, he made ready his\nRomans and all the people between him and Flanders. Also he had gotten\nwith him fifty giants which had been born of fiends; and they were\nordained to guard his person, and to break the front of the battle of\nking Arthur.\nAnd thus he departed from Rome, and came down the mountains for to\ndestroy the lands that king Arthur had conquered, and came to Cologne,\nand besieged a castle thereby, and won it soon, and stuffed it with two\nhundred Saracens or infidels, and after destroyed many fair countries\nwhich Arthur had won of king Claudas. And thus Lucius came with all his\nhost which were spread out threescore mile in breadth, and commanded\nthem to meet with him in Burgoyne, for he purposed to destroy the realm\nof Little Britain.\n_How king Arthur held a parliament at York, and how he ordained how the\n realm should be governed in his absence._\nNow leave we of Lucius the emperor, and speak we of king Arthur, that\ncommanded all them of his retinue to be ready at the utas of Hilary for\nto hold a parliament at York. And at that parliament was concluded to\narrest all the navy of the land, and to be ready within fifteen days at\nSandwich; and there he shewed to his army how he purposed to conquer\nthe empire which he ought to have of right. And there he ordained two\ngovernors of this realm, that is to say, Sir Bawdwin of Britain, for to\ncounsel to the best, and Sir Constantine, son to Sir Cador of Cornwall,\nwhich after the death of Arthur was king of this realm. And in the\npresence of all his lords he resigned the rule of the realm and\nGuenever his queen unto them, wherefore Sir Launcelot was wroth, for he\nleft Sir Tristram with king Mark for the love of Beale Isould. Then the\nqueen Guenever made great sorrow for the departing of her lord and\nother, and swooned in such wise that the ladies bare her into her\nchamber. Thus the king with his great army departed, leaving the queen\nand realm in the governance of Sir Bawdwin and Constantine. And when he\nwas on his horse he said with an high voice, If I die in this journey,\nI will that Sir Constantine be mine heir and king crowned of this realm\nas next of my blood. And after departed and entered into the sea at\nSandwich with all his army, with a great multitude of ships, galleys,\ncogges, and dromons, sailing on the sea.\n_How king Arthur being shipped and lying in his cabin had a marvellous\n dream, and of the exposition thereof._\nAnd as the king lay in his cabin in the ship, he fell in a slumbering,\nand dreamed a marvellous dream: him seemed that a dreadful dragon did\ndrown much of his people, and he came flying out of the west, and his\nhead was enamelled with azure, and his shoulders shone as gold, his\nbelly like mails of a marvellous hue, his tail full of tatters, his\nfeet full of fine sable, and his claws like fine gold; and an hideous\nflame of fire flew out of his mouth, like as the land and water had\nflamed all of fire. After him seemed there came out of the orient a\ngrimly boar all black in a cloud, and his paws as big as a post; he was\nrugged looking roughly, he was the foulest beast that ever man saw, he\nroared and romed so hideously that it were marvel to hear. Then the\ndreadful dragon advanced him, and came in the wind like a falcon,\ngiving great strokes on the boar, and the boar hit him again with his\ngrisly tusks that his breast was all bloody, and that the hot blood\nmade all the sea red of his blood. Then the dragon flew away all on an\nheight, and came down with such a swough, and smote the boar on the\nridge, which was ten foot large from the head to the tail, and smote\nthe boar all to powder, both flesh and bones, that it flittered all\nabroad on the sea. And therewith the king awoke anon and was sore\nabashed of this dream; and sent anon for a wise philosopher, commanding\nto tell him the signification of his dream. Sir, said the philosopher,\nthe dragon that thou dreamedst of betokeneth thine own person that\nsailest here, and the colour of his wings be thy realms that thou hast\nwon, and his tail which is all to-tattered signifieth the noble knights\nof the Round Table. And the boar that the dragon slew coming from the\nclouds, betokeneth some tyrant that tormenteth the people, or else thou\nart like to fight with some giant thyself, being horrible and\nabominable, whose peer ye saw never in your days; wherefore of this\ndreadful dream doubt thee nothing, but as a conqueror come forth\nthyself. Then after this soon they had sight of land, and sailed till\nthey arrived at Barflete in Flanders, and when they were there he found\nmany of his great lords ready as they had been commanded to await upon\nhim.\n_How a man of the country told to him of a marvellous giant, and how he\n fought and conquered him._\nThen came to him an husbandman of the country, and told him how there\nwas in the country of Constantine, beside Britany, a great tyrant which\nhad slain, murdered, and devoured much people of the country, and had\nbeen sustained seven year with the children of the commons of that\nland, insomuch, that all the children be all slain and destroyed, and\nnow late he hath taken the duchess of Britany as she rode with her\ntrain, and hath led her to his lodging which is in a mountain, for to\nkeep her to her life\u2019s end; and many people followed her, more than\nfive hundred, but all they might not rescue her, but they left her\nshrieking and crying lamentably, wherefore I suppose that he hath slain\nher. She was wife unto thy cousin Sir Howell, whom we call full nigh of\nthy blood. Now as thou art a rightful king have pity on this lady, and\nrevenge us all as thou art a noble conqueror. Alas! said king Arthur,\nthis is a great mischief, I had lever than the best realm that I have\nthat I had been a furlong way tofore him, for to have rescued that\nlady. Now fellow, said king Arthur, canst thou bring me there as this\ngiant haunteth? Yea, Sir, said the good man, lo yonder where as thou\nseest those two great fires, there thou shalt find him, and more\ntreasure than I suppose is in all France. When the king had understood\nthis piteous case he returned into his tent.\nThen he called unto him Sir Kay and Sir Bedivere, and commanded them\nsecretly to make ready horse and harness for himself and them twain,\nfor after even-song he would ride on pilgrimage with them two only unto\nSaint Michael\u2019s mount. And then anon he made him ready and armed him at\nall points, and took his horse and his shield. And so they three\ndeparted thence, and rode forth as fast as ever they might till that\nthey came unto the foot of that mount. And there they alighted, and the\nking commanded them to tarry there, for he would himself go up into\nthat mount. And so he ascended up into that hill till he came to a\ngreat fire, and there he found a careful widow wringing her hands and\nmaking great sorrow, sitting by a grave new made. And then king Arthur\nsaluted her, and demanded of her wherefore she made such lamentation:\nto whom she answered and said, Sir knight, speak soft, for yonder is a\ndevil: if he hear thee speak he will come and destroy thee; I hold thee\nunhappy; what dost thou here in this mountain? for if ye were such\nfifty as ye be, ye were not able to make resistance against this devil:\nhere lieth a duchess dead, the which was the fairest of all the world,\nwife to Sir Howell duke of Britany; he hath murdered her. Dame, said\nthe king, I come from the noble conqueror king Arthur, for to treat\nwith that tyrant for his liege people. Fie upon such treaties, said the\nwidow, he setteth not by the king, nor by no man else. But and if thou\nhave brought Arthur\u2019s wife, dame Guenever, he shall be gladder than\nthou hadst given to him half France. Beware, approach him not too nigh,\nfor he hath vanquished fifteen kings, and hath made him a coat full of\nprecious stones, embroidered with their beards, which they sent him to\nhave his love for salvation of their people at this last Christmas. And\nif thou wilt, speak with him at yonder great fire at supper. Well, said\nArthur, I will accomplish my message for all your fearful words; and\nwent forth by the crest of that hill, and saw where he sat at supper\ngnawing on a limb of a man, baking his broad limbs by the fire, and\nthree fair damsels turning three spits, whereon were broached twelve\nyoung children late born, like young birds. When king Arthur beheld\nthat piteous sight he had great compassion on them so that his heart\nbled for sorrow, and hailed him saying in this wise: He that all the\nworld wieldeth, give thee short life and shameful death, and the devil\nhave thy soul! Why hast thou murdered these young innocent children,\nand murdered this duchess? Therefore arise and dress thee, thou\nglutton; for this day shalt thou die of my hand. Then the glutton anon\nstart up and took a great club in his hand, and smote at the king that\nhis coronal fell to the earth. And the king hit him again that he\ncarved his belly that his entrails fell down to the ground. Then the\ngiant threw away his club, and caught the king in his arms that he\ncrushed his ribs. Then the three maidens kneeled down and called to\nChrist for help and comfort of Arthur. And then Arthur weltered and\nwrung that he was other while under and another time above. And so\nweltering and wallowing they rolled down the hill till they came to the\nsea mark, and ever as they so weltered Arthur smote him with his\ndagger, and it fortuned they came to the place here as the two knights\nwere and kept Arthur\u2019s horse. Then when they saw the king fast in the\ngiant\u2019s arms they came and loosed him. And then the king commanded Sir\nKay to smite off the giant\u2019s head, and to set it upon a truncheon of a\nspear and bear it to Sir Howell, and tell him that his enemy was slain,\nand after let this head be bound to a barbican that all the people may\nsee and behold it; and go ye two up to the mountain and fetch me my\nshield, my sword, and the club of iron. And as for the treasure take ye\nit, for ye shall find there goods out of number. So I have the kirtle\nand the club I desire no more. This was the fiercest giant that ever I\nmet with, save one in the mount of Arabe which I overcame, but this was\ngreater and fiercer. Then the knights fetched the club and the kirtle,\nand some of the treasure they took to themselves, and returned again to\nthe host. And anon this was known through all the country, wherefore\nthe people came and thanked the king. And he said again, Give the\nthanks to God, and part the goods among you. And after that, king\nArthur said and commanded his cousin Howell that he should ordain for a\nchurch to be builded on the same hill, in the worship of Saint Michael.\nAnd on the morn the king removed with his great battle and came into\nChampayne, and in a valley, and there they pight their tents. And the\nking being set at his dinner, there came in two messagers, of whom the\none was marshal of France, and said to the king that the emperor was\nentered into France and had destroyed a great part, and was in\nBurgoyne, and had destroyed and made great slaughter of people, and\nburnt towns and boroughs; wherefore, if thou come not hastily, they\nmust yield up their bodies and goods.\n_How king Arthur sent Sir Gawaine and others to Lucius, and how they\n were assailed and escaped with worship._\nThen the king did do call Sir Gawaine, Sir Bors, Sir Lionel, and Sir\nBedivere, and commanded them to go straight to Sir Lucius, and say ye\nto him that hastily he remove out of my land. And if he will not, bid\nhim make him ready to battle, and not distress the poor people. Then\nanon these noble knights dressed them to horseback. And when they came\nto the green wood, they saw many pavilions set in a meadow, of silk of\ndivers colours, beside a river, and the emperor\u2019s pavilion was in the\nmiddle with an eagle displayed above. To the which tent our knights\nrode toward, and ordained Sir Gawaine and Sir Bors to do the message,\nand left in a bushment Sir Lionel and Sir Bedivere. And then Sir\nGawaine and Sir Bors did their message, and commanded Lucius in\nArthur\u2019s name to avoid his land, or shortly to address him to battle.\nTo whom Lucius answered and said: Ye shall return to your lord and say\nye to him, that I shall subdue him and all his lands. Then Sir Gawaine\nwas wroth, and said, I had lever than all France fight against thee.\nAnd so had I, said Sir Bors, lever than all Britany or Burgoyne. Then a\nknight named Sir Gainus, high cousin to the emperor, said, Lo, how\nthese Britons be full of pride and boast, and they brag as though they\nbare up all the world. Then Sir Gawaine was sore grieved with these\nwords, and pulled out his sword and smote off his head. And therewith\nturned their horses and rode over waters and through woods till they\ncame to their bushment where as Sir Lionel and Sir Bedivere were\nhoving. The Romans followed fast after on horseback and on foot over a\nchampaign unto a wood; then Sir Bors turned his horse and saw a knight\ncome fast on, whom he smote through the body with a spear, that he fell\ndead down to the earth. Then came Caliburn, one of the strongest of\nPavie, and smote down many of Arthur\u2019s knights. And when Sir Bors saw\nhim do so much harm, he addressed toward him, and smote him through the\nbreast, that he fell down dead to the earth. Then Sir Feldenak thought\nto revenge the death of Gainus upon Sir Gawaine, but Sir Gawaine was\nware thereof, and smote him on the head, which stroke stinted not till\nit came to his breast. And then he returned and came to his fellows in\nthe bushment. And there was a recounter, for the bushment brake on the\nRomans, and slew and hewed down the Romans, and forced the Romans to\nflee and return; whom the noble knights chased unto their tents. Then\nthe Romans gathered more people, and also footmen came on, and there\nwas a new battle, and so much people that Sir Bors and Sir Berel were\ntaken. But when Sir Gawaine saw that, he took with him Sir Idrus the\ngood knight, and said he would never see king Arthur but if he rescued\nthem, and pulled out Galatine his good sword, and followed them that\nled those two knights away, and he smote him that led Sir Bors, and\ntook Sir Bors from him, and delivered him unto his fellows. And Sir\nIdrus in like wise rescued Sir Berel. Then began the battle to be\ngreat, that our knights were in great jeopardy, wherefore Sir Gawaine\nsent to king Arthur for succour, and that he hie him, for I am sore\nwounded, and that our prisoners may pay good out of number. And the\nmessager came to the king, and told him his message. And anon the king\ndid do assemble his army, but anon or he departed the prisoners were\ncome, and Sir Gawaine and his fellows gat the field and put the Romans\nto flight, and after returned and came with their fellowship in such\nwise that no man of worship was lost of them, save that Sir Gawaine was\nsore hurt. Then the king did do ransack his wounds, and comforted him.\nAnd thus was the beginning of the first day\u2019s fighting of the Britons\nand Romans. And there were slain of the Romans more than ten thousand,\nand great joy and mirth was made that night in the host of king Arthur.\nAnd on the morn he sent all the prisoners into Paris, under the guard\nof Sir Launcelot, with many knights, and of Sir Cador.\n_How Lucius sent certain spies in a bushment for to have taken his\n knights being prisoners, and how they were letted._\nNow turn we to the emperor of Rome which espied that these prisoners\nshould be sent to Paris, and anon he sent to lie in a bushment certain\nknights and princes with sixty thousand men for to rescue his knights\nand lords that were prisoners. And so on the morn as Sir Launcelot and\nSir Cador, chieftains and governors of all them that conveyed the\nprisoners, as they should pass through a wood, Sir Launcelot sent\ncertain knights to espy if any were in the woods to let them. And when\nthe said knights came into the wood, anon they espied and saw the great\nenbushment, and returned and told Sir Launcelot that there lay in await\nfor them threescore thousand Romans. And then Sir Launcelot with such\nknights as he had, and men of war to the number of ten thousand, put\nthem in array, and met with them, and fought with them manly, and slew\nand cut to pieces many of the Romans, and slew many knights and\nadmirals of the party of the Romans and Saracens: there was slain the\nking of Lyly and three great lords, Alakuke, Herawd, and Heringdale.\nBut Sir Launcelot fought so nobly that no man might endure a stroke of\nhis hand, but where he came he shewed his prowess and might, for he\nslew down right on every side. And the Romans and Saracens fled from\nhim as the sheep from the wolf or from the lion, and put them all that\nabode alive to flight. And so long they fought that tidings came to\nking Arthur, and anon he made him ready and came to the battle, and saw\nhis knights how they had vanquished the battle: he embraced them knight\nby knight in his arms, and said: Ye be worthy to bear all your honour\nand worship, there was never king save myself that had so noble\nknights. Sir, said Cador, there was none of us failed other, but of the\nprowess and manhood of Sir Launcelot were more than wonder to tell, and\nalso of his cousins which did this day many noble feats of war. And\nalso Sir Cador told who of his knights were slain, as Sir Berel and\nother Sir Moris and Sir Maurel, two good knights. Then the king wept,\nand dried his eyes with a kerchief, and said, Your courage had near\nhand destroyed you, for though ye had returned again ye had lost no\nworship; for I call it folly, knights to abide when they be\nover-matched. Nay, said Sir Launcelot and the other, for once shamed\nmay never be recovered.\n_How a senator told to Lucius of their discomfiture, and also of the\n great battle between Arthur and Lucius._\nNow leave we king Arthur and his noble knights which had won the field,\nand had brought their prisoners to Paris, and speak we of a senator\nwhich escaped from the battle, and came to Lucius the emperor, and said\nto him, Sir emperor, I advise thee to withdraw thee: what doest thou\nhere? thou shalt win nothing in these marches but great strokes out of\nall measure. For this day one of Arthur\u2019s knights was worth in the\nbattle an hundred of ours. Fie on thee, said Lucius, thou speakest\ncowardly, for thy words grieve me more than all the loss that I had\nthis day. And anon he sent forth a king, which hight Sir Leomie, with a\ngreat army, and bad him hie him fast tofore, and he would follow\nhastily after. King Arthur was warned privily, and sent his people to\nSessoyne, and took up the towns and castles from the Romans. Then the\nking commanded Sir Cador to take the rereward, and to take with him\ncertain knights of the Round Table,\u2014and Sir Launcelot, Sir Bors, Sir\nKay, Sir Marrok, with Sir Marhaus, shall await on our person. Thus king\nArthur distributed his host in divers parts, to the end that his\nenemies should not escape. When the emperor was entered into the vale\nof Sessoyne, he might see where king Arthur was embattled and his\nbanner displayed: and he was beset round about with his enemies, that\nneeds he must fight or yield him, for he might not flee, but said\nopenly unto the Romans, Sirs, I admonish you that this day ye fight and\nacquit you as men, and remember how Rome domineth, and is chief and\nhead over all the earth and universal world, and suffer not these\nBritons this day to abide against us. And therewith he did command his\ntrumpets blow the bloody sounds, in such wise that the ground trembled\nand shook. Then the battles approached, and shove and shouted on both\nsides, and great strokes were smitten on both sides, many men\noverthrown, hurt, and slain; and great valiances, prowesses, and feats\nof war were that day shewed, which were over long to recount the noble\nfeats of every man, for they should contain a whole volume. But in\nespecial king Arthur rode in the battle, exhorting his knights to do\nwell, and himself did as nobly with his hands as was possible a man to\ndo; he drew out Excalibur his sword, and awaited ever where as the\nRomans were thickest and most grieved his people; and anon he addressed\nhim on that part, and hewed and slew down right, and rescued his\npeople, and he slew a great giant named Galapas, which was a man of an\nhuge quantity and height, he shorted him and smote off both his legs by\nthe knees, saying, Now art thou better of a size to deal with than thou\nwere; and after smote off his head. There Sir Gawaine fought nobly, and\nslew three admirals in that battle. And so did all the knights of the\nRound Table. Thus the battle between king Arthur and Lucius the emperor\nendured long. Lucius had on his side many Saracens which were slain.\nAnd thus the battle was great, and oftsides that one party was at a\nvantage, and anon at a disadvantage, which endured so long till at the\nlast king Arthur espied where Lucius the emperor fought and did wonder\nwith his own hands. And anon he rode to him, and either smote other\nfiercely: and at the last Lucius smote Arthur thwart the visage, and\ngave him a large wound. And when king Arthur felt himself hurt anon he\nsmote him again with Excalibur, that it cleft his head from the summit\nof his head, and stinted not till it came to his breast. And then the\nemperor fell down dead, and there ended his life. And when it was known\nthat the emperor was slain, anon all the Romans with all their host put\nthem to flight; and king Arthur with all his knights followed the\nchase, and slew down right all them that they might attain. And thus\nwas the victory given to king Arthur, and the triumph. And there were\nslain on the part of Lucius more than an hundred thousand. And after,\nking Arthur did do ransack the dead bodies, and did do bury them that\nwere slain of his retinue, every man according to the state and degree\nthat he was of. And them that were hurt he let the surgeons do search\ntheir hurts and wounds, and commanded to spare no salves nor medicines\ntill they were whole.\nThen the king rode straight to the place where the emperor Lucius lay\ndead, and with him he found slain the Sowdan of Surrey, the king of\nEgypt and the king of Ethiope, which were two noble kings, with\nseventeen other kings of divers regions, and also sixty senators of\nRome, all noble men, whom the noble king Arthur did do balm and gum\nwith many good gums aromatic, and after did do cere them in sixty fold\nof cered cloth of Sendal, and laid them in chests of lead, because they\nshould not chafe nor savour; and upon all these bodies their shields\nwith their arms and banners were set, to the end they should be known\nof what country they were. And after, he found three senators that were\nonlive, to whom he said, For to save your lives I will that ye take\nthese dead bodies, and carry them with you unto great Rome, and present\nthem to the Potestate on my behalf, shewing him my letters, and tell\nthem that I in my person shall hastily be at Rome. And I suppose the\nRomans shall be ware how they shall demand any tribute of me. And I\ncommand you to say when ye shall come to Rome to the Potestate, and all\nthe Council and Senate, that I send to them these dead bodies for the\ntribute that they have demanded. And if they be not content with these,\nI shall pay more at my coming, for other tribute owe I none, nor none\nother will I pay. And me thinketh this sufficeth for Britain, Ireland,\nand all Almaine, with Germany. And furthermore I charge you to say to\nthem that I command them upon pain of their heads never to demand\ntribute ne tax of me ne of my lands.\nThen with this charge and commandment the three senators aforesaid\ndeparted with all the said dead bodies lying, the body of Lucius in a\ncar covered with the arms of the empire all alone, and after alway two\nbodies of kings in a chariot, and then the bodies of the senators after\nthem, and so went toward Rome, and shewed their legation and message to\nthe Potestate and Senate, recounting the battle done in France, and how\nthe field was lost, and much people and innumerable slain. Wherefore\nthey advised them in no wise to move no more war against that noble\nconqueror, Arthur;\u2014for his might and prowess is most to be doubted,\nseeing the noble kings, and great multitude of knights of the Round\nTable, to whom none earthly prince may compare.\n_How Arthur, after he had achieved the battle against the Romans,\n entered into Almaine, and so into Italy._\nNow turn we unto king Arthur and his noble knights, which, after the\ngreat battle achieved against the Romans, entered into Loraine,\nBrabant, and Flanders, and thence returned into high Almaine, and so\nover the mountains into Lombardy, and after into Tuscany, wherein was a\ncity which in no wise would yield themselves nor obey, wherefore king\nArthur besieged it, and lay long about it, and gave many assaults to\nthe city. And they within defended them valiantly. Then, on a time, the\nking called Sir Florence, a knight, and said to him they lacked\nvictual, and not far from hence be great forests and great woods,\nwherein be many of mine enemies with much cattle: I will that thou make\nthee ready, and go thither in foraging, and take with thee Sir Gawaine\nmy nephew, Sir Wisshard, Sir Clegis, Sir Cleremond, and the captain of\nCardiff, with other, and bring with you all the beasts that ye there\ncan get. And anon these knights made them ready, and rode over holts\nand hills, through forests and woods, till they came into a fair meadow\nfull of fair flowers and grass. And there they rested them and their\nhorses all that night. And in the springing of the day in the next morn\nSir Gawaine took his horse and stole away from his fellows to seek some\nadventures. And anon he was ware of a man armed, walking his horse\neasily by a wood\u2019s side, and his shield laced to his shoulder, sitting\non a strong courser, without any man saving a page bearing a mighty\nspear. The knight bare in his shield three griffons of gold in sable\ncarbuncle the chief of silver. When Sir Gawaine espied this gay knight\nhe fewtred his spear, and rode straight to him, and demanded him from\nwhence that he was. That other answered and said he was of Tuscany, and\ndemanded of Sir Gawaine, What profferest thou proud knight so boldly?\nHere gettest thou no prey: thou mayest prove what thou wilt, for thou\nshalt be my prisoner or thou depart. Then said Gawaine, Thou vauntest\nthee greatly, and speakest proud words; I counsel thee for all thy\nboast that thou make thee ready, and take thy gear to thee, tofore\ngreater grief fall to thee.\n_Of a battle done by Gawaine against a Saracen, which after was yielden\n and became Christian._\nThen they took their spears, and ran each at other with all the might\nthey had, and smote each other through their shields into their\nshoulders, wherefore anon they pulled out their swords, and smote great\nstrokes, that the fire sprang out of their helms. Then Sir Gawaine was\nall abashed, and with Galatine, his good sword, he smote through shield\nand thick hauberk made of thick mails, and all to-rushed and brake the\nprecious stones, and made him a large wound, that men might see both\nliver and lung. Then groaned that knight, and addressed him to Sir\nGawaine, and with an awk stroke gave him a great wound, and cut a vein,\nwhich grieved Sir Gawaine sore, and he bled sore. Then the knight said\nto Sir Gawaine, Bind thy wound or thy bleeding change, for thou\nbe-bleedest all thy horse and thy fair arms; for all the barbers of\nBritain can not stanch thy blood; for whosoever is hurt with this\nblade, he shall never be stanched of bleeding. Then answered Gawaine,\nIt grieveth me but little; thy great words shall not fear me nor lessen\nmy courage, but thou shalt suffer teen and sorrow or we depart: but\ntell me in haste who may stanch my bleeding? That may I do, said the\nknight, if I will, and so I will if thou wilt succour and aid me, that\nI may be christened and believe on God, and thereof I require thee of\nthy manhood, and it shall be great merit for thy soul. I grant, said\nGawaine, so God help me, to accomplish all thy desire: but first tell\nme what thou soughtest here thus alone, and of what land and liegiance\nthou art. Sir, he said, my name is Priamus, and a great prince is my\nfather, and he hath been rebel unto Rome, and over ridden many of their\nlands. My father is lineally descended of Alexander and of Hector by\nright line. And duke Joshua and Maccab\u00e6us were of our lineage. I am\nright inheritor of Alexandria and Africa, and all the out isles, yet\nwill I believe on thy Lord that thou believest on; and for thy labour I\nshall give thee treasure enough. I was so elate and haughty in my\nheart, that I thought no man my peer, nor to me semblable. I was sent\ninto this war with sevenscore knights, and now I have encountered with\nthee which hast given to me of fighting my fill; wherefore sir knight I\npray thee to tell me what thou art? I am no knight, said Gawaine, I\nhave been brought up in the guardrobe with the noble king Arthur many\nyears, for to take heed to his armour and his other array, and to point\nhis paltocks that belong to himself. At Yule last he made me yeoman,\nand gave to me horse and harness and an hundred pound in money: and if\nfortune be my friend I doubt not but to be well advanced and holpen by\nmy liege lord. Ah, said Priamus, if his knaves be so keen and fierce,\nhis knights be passing good. Now, for the king\u2019s love of heaven,\nwhether thou be a knave or a knight, tell thou me thy name. By heaven,\nsaid Sir Gawaine, now will I say thee sooth: my name is Sir Gawaine,\nand known I am in his court and in his chamber, and one of the knights\nof the Round Table: he dubbed me a duke with his own hand. Therefore\ngrudge not if this grace is to me fortuned; it is the goodness of God\nthat lent to me my strength. Now am I better pleased, said Priamus,\nthan if thou hadst given me all the province, and Paris the rich. I had\nlever to have been torn with wild horses, than any varlet had won such\npraise, or any page or pricker should have had prize on me. But now,\nsir knight, I warn thee that hereby is a duke of Loraine with all his\narmy, and the noblest men of Dolphine, and lords of Lombardy, with the\ngarrison of Godard, and Saracens of Southland, that numbered sixty\nthousand of good men of arms; wherefore, but if we hie us hence, it\nwill harm us both, for we be sore hurt, never like to recover. But take\nheed to my page that he no horn blow, for if he do, there be hoving\nhere fast by an hundred good knights, awaiting on my person, and if\nthey take thee there shall no ransom of gold ne silver acquit thee.\nThen Sir Gawaine rode over a water for to save him, and the knight\nfollowed him, and so rode forth till they came to his fellows which\nwere in the meadow, where they had been all the night. Anon as Sir\nWisshard was ware of Sir Gawaine and saw that he was hurt, he ran to\nhim sorrowfully weeping, and demanded of him who had so hurt him. And\nGawaine told how he had fought with that man, and each of them had hurt\nother, and how he had salves to heal them; but I can tell you other\ntidings, that soon we shall have ado with many enemies. Then Sir\nPriamus and Sir Gawaine alighted, and let their horses graze in the\nmeadow, and unarmed them, and then the blood ran freshly from their\nwounds. And Priamus took from his page a phial full of the four waters\nthat came out of Paradise, and with certain balm anointed their wounds,\nand washed them with that water, and within an hour after they were\nboth as whole as ever they were. And then with a trumpet were they all\nassembled to council, and there Priamus told unto them what lords and\nknights had sworn to rescue him, and that without fail they should be\nassailed with many thousands, wherefore he counselled them to withdraw\nthem. Then Sir Gawaine said, it were great shame to them to avoid\nwithout any strokes; wherefore I advise to take our arms, and to make\nus ready to meet with these Saracens and misbelieving men, and with the\nhelp of God we shall overthrow them, and have a fair day on them. And\nSir Florence shall abide still in this field to keep the post as a\nnoble knight, and we shall not forsake yonder fellows. Now, said\nPriamus, cease your words, for I warn you ye shall find in yonder woods\nmany perilous knights: they will put forth beasts to call you on: they\nbe out of number, and ye are not past seven hundred, which be over few\nto fight with so many. Nevertheless, said Sir Gawaine, we shall once\nencounter them and see what they can do, and the best shall have the\nvictory.\n_How the Saracens came out of a wood for to rescue their beasts, and of\n a great battle._\nThen Sir Florence called to him Sir Floridas with an hundred knights,\nand drove forth the herd of beasts. Then followed him seven hundred men\nof arms, and Sir Ferant of Spain on a fair steed came springing out of\nthe woods, and came to Sir Florence, and asked him why he fled. Then\nSir Florence took his spear, and rode against him, and smote him in the\nforehead and brake his neck bone. Then all the other were moved, and\nthought to avenge the death of Sir Ferant, and smote in among them, and\nthere was great fight, and many slain and laid down to ground, and Sir\nFlorence with his hundred knights always kept the post, and fought\nmanly. Then when Priamus the good knight perceived the great fight, he\nwent to Sir Gawaine and bad him that he should go and succour his\nfellowship, which were sore bested with their enemies. Sir, grieve you\nnot, said Sir Gawaine, for their honour shall be theirs: I shall not\nonce move my horse to themward but if I see more than there be, for\nthey be strong enough to match them. And with that he saw an earl\ncalled Sir Ethelwold and the duke of Dutchmen come leaping out of a\nwood, with many thousands, and Priamus\u2019s knights, and came straight\nunto the battle. Then Sir Gawaine comforted his knights, and bad them\nnot be abashed, for all shall be ours. Then they began to gallop, and\nmet with their enemies: there were men slain and overthrown on every\nside. Then thrust in among them the knights of the Table Round, and\nsmote down to the earth all them that withstood them, insomuch that\nthey made them to recoil and flee. Truly, said Sir Gawaine, this\ngladdeth my heart, for now be they less in number by twenty thousand.\nThen entered into the battle Jubance a giant, and fought and slew\ndownright, and distressed many of our knights, among whom was slain Sir\nGherard, a knight of Wales. Then our knights took heart to them, and\nslew many Saracens. And then came in Sir Priamus with his pennon, and\nrode with the knights of the Round Table, and fought so manfully that\nmany of their enemies lost their lives. And there Sir Priamus slew the\nMarquis of Moises land. And Sir Gawaine with his fellows so quit them\nthat they had the field, but in that fight was Sir Chestelaine, a child\nand ward of Sir Gawaine, slain, wherefore was much sorrow made, and his\ndeath was soon avenged. Thus was the battle ended, and many lords of\nLombardy and Saracens left dead in the field.\nThen Sir Florence and Sir Gawaine harboured surely their people, and\ntook great plenty of cattle, of gold and silver and great treasure and\nriches, and returned unto king Arthur, which lay still at the siege.\nAnd when they came to the king they presented their prisoners, and\nrecounted their adventures, and how they had vanquished their enemies.\n_How Sir Gawaine returned to king Arthur with his prisoners, and how\n the king won a city, and how he was crowned emperor._\nNow thanked be God, said the noble king Arthur. But what manner man is\nhe that standeth by himself? he seemeth no prisoner. Sir, said Gawaine,\nthis is a good man of arms; he hath matched me, but he is yielden unto\nGod and to me for to become Christian: had not he been we should never\nhave returned, wherefore I pray you that he may be baptized, for their\nliveth not a nobler man nor better knight of his hands. Then the king\nlet him anon be christened, and did do call him his first name Priamus,\nand made him a duke and knight of the Table Round. And then anon the\nking let do cry assault to the city, and there was rearing of ladders,\nbreaking of walls, and the ditch filled, that men with little pain\nmight enter into the city. Then came out a duchess, and Clarisin the\ncountess, with many ladies and damsels, and kneeling before king Arthur\nrequired him for the love of God to receive the city and not to take it\nby assault, for then should many guiltless be slain. Then the king\navailed his visor with a meek and noble countenance, and said, Madam,\nthere shall none of my subjects misdo you nor your maidens, nor to none\nthat to you belong, but the duke shall abide my judgment. Then anon the\nking commanded to leave the assault; and anon the duke\u2019s eldest son\nbrought out the keys, and kneeling, delivered them to the king, and\nbesought him of grace: and the king seized the town by assent of his\nlords, and took the duke and sent him to Dover, there for to abide\nprisoner the term of his life, and assigned certain rents for the dower\nof the duchess and for her children. Then he made lords to rule those\nlands, and laws, as a lord ought to do in his own country. And after he\ntook his journey toward Rome, and sent Sir Floris and Sir Floridas\ntofore with five hundred men of arms, and they came to the city of\nUrbine, and laid there a bushment as them seemed most best for them,\nand rode tofore the town, where anon issued out much people and\nskirmished with the fore riders. Then brake out the bushment, and won\nthe bridge, and after the town, and set upon the walls the king\u2019s\nbanner. Then came the king upon a hill, and saw the city and his banner\non the walls, by the which he knew that the city was won. And anon he\nsent and commanded that none of his liege men should misuse no lady,\nwife, nor maid: and when he came into the city he passed to the castle,\nand comforted them that were in sorrow, and ordained there a captain, a\nknight of his own country. And when they of Milan heard that the same\ncity was won, they sent to king Arthur great sums of money, and\nbesought him as their lord to have pity on them, promising to be his\nsubjects for ever, and yield to him homage and fealty for the lands of\nPleasance and Pavia, Petersaint, and the port of Tremble, and to give\nhim yearly a million of gold all his lifetime. Then he rideth into\nTuscany, and winneth towns and castles, and wasted all in his way that\nto him will not obey, and so to Spolute and Viterbe: and from thence he\nrode into the vale of Vicecount among the vines. And from thence he\nsent to the senators to wit whether they would know him for their lord.\nBut soon after on a Saturday came unto king Arthur all the senators\nthat were left on live, and the noblest cardinals that then dwelled in\nRome, and prayed him of peace, and proffered him full large, and\nbesought him as governor to give licence for six weeks, for to assemble\ntogether all the Romans, and then to crown him emperor with crism, as\nit belongeth to so high a state. I assent, said the king, like as ye\nhave devised, and at Christmas there to be crowned, and to hold my\nRound Table with my knights as me liketh. And then the senators made\nthings ready for his enthronization. And at the day appointed, as the\nromance telleth, he came into Rome, and was crowned emperor by the\nPope\u2019s hand with all the royalty that could be made, and sojourned\nthere a time, and established all his lands from Rome unto France, and\ngave lands and realms unto his servants and knights, to every each\nafter his desert, in such wise that none complained, rich nor poor. And\nhe gave to Sir Priamus the duchy of Loraine; and he thanked him, and\nsaid that he would serve him the days of his life: and after made dukes\nand earls, and made every man rich. Then after this all his knights and\nlords and all the great men of estate assembled them afore him, and\nsaid: Blessed be God, your war is finished, and your conquest achieved,\ninsomuch that we know none so great nor mighty that dare make war\nagainst you: wherefore we beseech you to return homeward and give us\nlicence to go home to our wives, from whom we have been long, and to\nrest us, for your journey is finished with honour and worship. Then\nsaid the king, Ye say truth, and for to tempt God it is no wisdom, and\ntherefore make you ready and return we into England. Then was there\ntrussing of harness and baggage, and great carriage. And after licence\ngiven, he returned and commanded that no man in pain of death should\nrob nor take victual, nor other thing by the way, but that he should\npay therefore. And thus he came over the sea, and landed at Sandwich,\nagainst whom queen Guenever his wife came and met him: and he was nobly\nreceived of all his commons in every city and burgh, and great gifts\npresented to him at his home coming, to welcome him with.\nThus endeth the fyfthe booke of the conqueste that kynge Arthur hadde\n ageynste Lucius the Emperoure of Rome, and here foloweth the syxth\n book, which is of syr Launcelot du lake.\n_How Sir Launcelot and Sir Lionel departed from the court for to seek\n adventures, and how Sir Lionel left him sleeping, and was taken._\nSoon after that king Arthur was come from Rome into England, then all\nthe knights of the Table Round resorted unto the king, and made many\njusts and tournaments; and some there were that were but knights which\nincreased so in arms and worship that they passed all their fellows in\nprowess and noble deeds, and that was well proved on many. But in\nespecial it was proved on Sir Launcelot du Lake; for in all tournaments\nand justs and deeds of arms, both for life and death, he passed all\nother knights, and at no time he was never overcome but if it were by\ntreason or enchantment. So Sir Launcelot increased so marvellously in\nworship and honour; therefore he is the first knight that the French\nbook maketh mention of after king Arthur came from Rome. Wherefore\nqueen Guenever had him in great favour above all other knights, and in\ncertain he loved the queen again above all other ladies and damsels all\nhis life, and for her he did many deeds of arms, and saved her from the\nfire through his noble chivalry. Thus Sir Launcelot rested him long\nwith play and game. And then he thought himself to prove himself in\nstrange adventures: then he bad his nephew Sir Lionel for to make him\nready, for we two will seek adventures. So they mounted on their\nhorses, armed at all rights, and rode into a deep forest, and so into a\ndeep plain. And then the weather was hot about noon, and Sir Launcelot\nhad great lust to sleep. Then Sir Lionel espied a great apple tree that\nstood by an hedge, and said, Brother, yonder is a fair shadow, there\nmay we rest us and our horses. It is well said, fair brother, said Sir\nLauncelot, for this seven year I was not so sleepy as I am now. And so\nthey there alighted, and tied their horses unto sundry trees, and so\nSir Launcelot laid him down under an apple tree, and his helm he laid\nunder his head. And Sir Lionel waked while he slept. So Sir Launcelot\nwas asleep passing fast. And in the meanwhile there came three knights\nriding, as fast fleeing as ever they might ride. And there followed\nthem three but one knight. And when Sir Lionel saw him, him thought he\nsaw never so great a knight nor so well faring a man, neither so well\napparelled unto all rights. So within a while this strong knight had\novertaken one of these knights, and there he smote him to the cold\nearth that he lay still. And then he rode unto the second knight, and\nsmote him so that man and horse fell down. And then straight to the\nthird knight he rode, and he smote him behind his horse tail a spear\u2019s\nlength. And then he alight down, and reined his horse on the bridle,\nand bound all the three knights fast with the reins of their own\nbridles. When Sir Lionel saw him do thus, he thought to assay him, and\nmade him ready, and stilly and privily he took his horse, and thought\nnot for to awake Sir Launcelot. And when he was mounted upon his horse\nhe overtook this strong knight and bad him turn: and the other smote\nSir Lionel so hard that horse and man he bare to the earth, and so he\nalight down and bound him fast, and threw him overthwart his own horse,\nand so he served them all four, and rode with them away to his own\ncastle. And when he came there, he made unarm them, and beat them with\nthorns all naked, and after put them in a deep prison where there were\nmany more knights that made great dolour.\n_How Sir Ector followed for to seek Sir Launcelot, and how he was taken\n by Sir Turquine._\nWhen Sir Ector de Maris wist that Sir Launcelot was past out of the\ncourt to seek adventures he was wroth with himself, and made him ready\nto seek Sir Launcelot, and as he had ridden long in a great forest, he\nmet with a man that was like a forester. Fair fellow, said Sir Ector,\nknowest thou in this country any adventures that be here nigh hand?\nSir, said the forester, this country know I well, and hereby within\nthis mile is a strong manor, and well dyked, and by that manor, on the\nleft hand, there is a fair ford for horses to drink of, and over that\nford there groweth a fair tree, and thereon hangeth many fair shields\nthat wielded sometime good knights: and at the hole of the tree hangeth\na bason of copper and laton, and strike upon that bason with the butt\nof thy spear thrice, and soon after thou shalt hear new tidings, and\nelse hast thou the fairest grace that many a year had ever knight that\npassed through this forest. Gramercy, said Sir Ector, and departed and\ncame to the tree, and saw many fair shields, and among them he saw his\nbrother\u2019s shield, Sir Lionel, and many more that he knew that were his\nfellows of the Round Table, the which grieved his heart, and he\npromised to revenge his brother. Then anon Sir Ector beat on the bason\nas he were wood, and then he gave his horse drink at the ford: and\nthere came a knight behind him and bad him come out of the water and\nmake him ready; and Sir Ector anon turned him shortly, and in fewter\ncast his spear, and smote the other knight a great buffet that his\nhorse turned twice about. This was well done, said the strong knight,\nand knightly thou hast stricken me: and therewith he rushed his horse\non Sir Ector and caught him under his right arm, and bare him clean out\nof the saddle, and rode with him away into his own hall, and threw him\ndown in the midst of the floor. The name of this knight was Sir\nTurquine. Then he said unto Sir Ector, For thou hast done this day more\nunto me than any knight did these twelve years, now will I grant thee\nthy life, so thou wilt be sworn to be my prisoner all thy life days.\nNay, said Sir Ector, that will I never promise thee, but that I will do\nmine advantage. That me repenteth, said Sir Turquine. And then he made\nto unarm him, and beat him with thorns all naked, and after put him\ndown in a deep dungeon, where he knew many of his fellows. But when Sir\nEctor saw Sir Lionel, then made he great sorrow. Alas, brother, said\nSir Ector, where is my brother Sir Launcelot? Fair brother, I left him\non sleep when that I from him went, under an apple tree, and what is\nbecome of him I cannot tell you. Alas, said the knights, but Sir\nLauncelot help us we may never be delivered, for we know now no knight\nthat is able to match our master Turquine.\n_How four queens found Sir Launcelot sleeping, and how by enchantment\n he was taken and led into a castle._\nNow leave we these knights prisoners, and speak we of Sir Launcelot du\nLake that lieth under the apple tree sleeping. Even about the noon\nthere came by him four queens of great estate; and, for the heat of the\nsun should not annoy them, there rode four knights about them and bare\na cloth of green silk on four spears, betwixt them and the sun, and the\nqueens rode on four white mules.\nThus as they rode they heard by them a great horse grimly neigh, and\nthen were they ware of a sleeping knight that lay all armed under an\napple tree; anon as these queens looked on his face they knew that it\nwas Sir Launcelot. Then they began for to strive for that knight; every\none said she would have him to her love. We shall not strive, said\nMorgan le Fay, that was king Arthur\u2019s sister; I shall put an\nenchantment upon him that he shall not awake in six hours, and then I\nwill lead him away unto my castle, and when he is surely within my hold\nI shall take the enchantment from him, and then let him choose which of\nus he will have for his love. So this enchantment was cast upon Sir\nLauncelot, and then they laid him upon his shield, and bare him so on\nhorseback betwixt two knights, and brought him unto the castle Chariot,\nand there they laid him in a chamber cold, and at night they sent unto\nhim a fair damsel with his supper ready dight. By that the enchantment\nwas past, and when she came she saluted him, and asked him what cheer?\nI cannot say, fair damsel, said Sir Launcelot, for I wot not how I came\ninto this castle but it be by an enchantment. Sir, said she, ye must\nmake good cheer, and if ye be such a knight as is said ye be, I shall\ntell you more tomorn by prime of the day. Gramercy, fair damsel, said\nSir Launcelot, of your good will I require you. And so she departed.\nAnd there he lay all that night without comfort of any body.\nAnd on the morn early came these four queens, passingly well beseen,\nall they bidding him good morn, and he them again. Sir knight, the four\nqueens said, thou must understand thou art our prisoner, and we here\nknow thee well, that thou art Sir Launcelot du Lake, king Ban\u2019s son.\nAnd truly we understand your worthiness that thou art the noblest\nknight living; and, as we know well, there can no lady have thy love\nbut one, and that is queen Guenever, and now thou shalt lose her for\never, and she thee, and therefore thee behoveth now to choose one of us\nfour. I am the queen Morgan le Fay, queen of the land of Gore, and here\nis the queen of Northgalis, and the queen of Eastland, and the queen of\nthe Out Isles; now choose ye one of us which thou wilt have to thy love\nfor thou mayst not choose or else in this prison to die. This is an\nhard case, said Sir Launcelot, that either I must die or else choose\none of you, yet had I lever to die in this prison with worship, than to\nhave one of you to my love maugre my head. And therefore ye be\nanswered, for I will have none of you, for ye be false enchantresses.\nAnd as for my lady dame Guenever, were I at my liberty as I was, I\nwould prove it on you or upon yours, that she is the truest lady unto\nher lord living. Well, said the queens, is this your answer, that you\nwill refuse us? Yea, on my life, said Sir Launcelot, refused ye be of\nme. So they departed and left him there alone that made great sorrow.\n_How Sir Launcelot was delivered by the mean of a damsel._\nRight so at the noon came the damsel unto him with his dinner, and\nasked him what cheer? Truly, fair damsel, said Sir Launcelot, in my\nlife days never so ill. Sir, she said, that me repenteth, but and ye\nwill be ruled by me I shall help you out of this distress, and ye shall\nhave no shame nor villainy, so that ye hold me a promise. Fair damsel I\nwill grant you, and sore I am of these queens sorceresses afeard, for\nthey have destroyed many a good knight. Sir, said she, that is sooth,\nand for the renown and bounty they hear of you they would have your\nlove, and, sir, they say your name is Sir Launcelot du Lake, the flower\nof knights, and they be passing wroth with you that ye have refused\nthem. But sir, and ye would promise me for to help my father on Tuesday\nnext coming, that hath made a tournament betwixt him and the king of\nNorthgalis, (for the last Tuesday past my father lost the field through\nthree knights of king Arthur\u2019s court,) and if ye will be there upon\nTuesday next coming and help my father, tomorn ere prime, by the grace\nof God, I shall deliver you clean. Fair maiden, said Sir Launcelot,\ntell me what is your father\u2019s name, and then shall I give you an\nanswer. Sir knight, she said, my father is king Bagdemagus, that was\nfoul rebuked at the last tournament. I know your father well, said Sir\nLauncelot, for a noble king, and a good knight, and by the faith of my\nbody, ye shall have my body ready to do your father and you service at\nthat day. Sir, she said, gramercy, and to-morn await ye be ready\nbetimes, and I shall be she that shall deliver you, and take you your\narmour and your horse, shield and spear: and hereby, within this ten\nmile, is an abbey of white monks, there I pray you that ye me abide,\nand thither shall I bring my father unto you. All this shall be done,\nsaid Sir Launcelot, as I am true knight. And so she departed, and came\non the morn early, and found him ready. Then she brought him out of\ntwelve locks, and brought him unto his armour, and when he was armed\nclean, she brought him until his own horse, and lightly he saddled him,\nand took a great spear in his hand, and so rode forth, and said, Fair\ndamsel I shall not fail you by the grace of God. And so he rode into a\ngreat forest all that day, and never could find no high way, and so the\nnight fell on him, and then was he ware in a valley of a pavilion of\nred sendal. By my faith, said Sir Launcelot, in that pavilion will I\nlodge all this night. And so there he alight down, and tied his horse\nto the pavilion, and there he unarmed him, and there he found a bed,\nand laid him therein and he fell on sleep heavily.\n_How a knight found Sir Launcelot lying in his bed, and how Sir\n Launcelot fought with the knight._\nThen within an hour there came the knight to whom belonged the\npavilion, and so he laid him down beside Sir Launcelot. And when Sir\nLauncelot felt him, he started out of the bed lightly, and the other\nknight after him, and either of them gat their swords in their hands,\nand out at the pavilion door went the knight of the pavilion, and Sir\nLauncelot followed him, and there, by a little slake, Sir Launcelot\nwounded him sore nigh unto the death. And then he yielded him unto Sir\nLauncelot, and so he granted him, so that he would tell him why he came\ninto the bed. Sir, said the knight, the pavilion is mine own, and there\nthis night would I have slept, and now I am likely to die of this\nwound. That me repenteth, said Sir Launcelot, of your hurt; but I was\nadread of treason, for I was late beguiled; and therefore come on your\nway into your pavilion, and take your rest, and as I suppose I shall\nstanch your blood. So they went both into the pavilion, and anon Sir\nLauncelot stanched his blood.\nTherewithal came the knight\u2019s lady, which was a passing fair lady. And\nwhen she espied that her lord Belleus was so sore wounded, she cried\nout on Sir Launcelot, and made great dole out of measure. Peace my lady\nand my love, said Belleus, for this knight is a good man, and a knight\nadventurous; and there he told her all the cause how he was wounded;\nand when that I yielded me unto him, he left me goodly and hath\nstanched my blood. Sir, said the lady, I require thee tell me what\nknight ye be, and what is your name? Fair lady, said he, my name is Sir\nLauncelot du Lake. So me thought ever by your speech, said the lady,\nfor I have seen you oft or this, and I know you better than ye ween.\nBut now and ye would promise me of your courtesy, for the harms that ye\nhave done to me and to my lord Belleus, that when he cometh unto\nArthur\u2019s court for to cause him to be made knight of the Round Table,\nfor he is a passing good man of arms, and a mighty lord of lands of\nmany out isles. Fair lady, said Sir Launcelot, let him come unto the\ncourt the next high feast, and look that ye come with him, and I shall\ndo my power, and ye prove you doughty of your hands, that ye shall have\nyour desire. So thus within awhile as they thus talked, the night\npassed, and the day shone, and then Sir Launcelot armed him, and took\nhis horse, and they taught him to the abbey, and thither he rode within\nthe space of two hours.\n_How Sir Launcelot was received of king Bagdemagus\u2019s daughter, and he\n made his complaint to her father._\nAnd soon as Sir Launcelot came within the abbey yard the daughter of\nking Bagdemagus heard a great horse go on the pavement. And she then\narose and went unto a window, and there she saw Sir Launcelot, and anon\nshe made men fast to take his horse from him and let lead him into a\nstable, and himself was led into a fair chamber, and unarmed him, and\nthe lady sent him a long gown, and anon she came herself. And then she\nmade Launcelot passing good cheer, and she said he was the knight in\nthe world was most welcome to her. Then in all haste she sent for her\nfather Bagdemagus that was within twelve mile of that abbey, and afore\neven he came with a fair fellowship of knights with him. And when the\nking was alight off his horse he went straight unto Sir Launcelot\u2019s\nchamber, and there he found his daughter, and then the king embraced\nSir Launcelot in his arms, and either made other good cheer. Anon Sir\nLauncelot made his complaint unto the king how he was betrayed, and how\nhis brother Sir Lionel was departed from him he wist not where, and how\nhis daughter had delivered him out of prison,\u2014therefore while I live I\nshall do her service and all her kindred. Then am I sure of your help,\nsaid the king, on Tuesday next coming. Yea, sir, said Sir Launcelot, I\nshall not fail you, for so I have promised my lady your daughter. But\nsir, what knights been they of my lord Arthur\u2019s, that were with the\nking of Northgalis? And the king said it was Sir Mador de la Porte, and\nSir Mordred, and Sir Gahalatine, that all for-fared my knights, for\nagainst them three I nor my knights might bear no strength. Sir, said\nSir Launcelot, as I hear say that the tournament shall be within this\nthree mile of this abbey, ye shall send unto me three knights of yours\nsuch as ye trust, and look that the three knights have all white\nshields, and I also, and no painture on the shields, and we four will\ncome out of a little wood in the midst of both parties, and we shall\nfall in the front of our enemies and grieve them that we may; and thus\nshall I not be known what knight I am. So they took their rest that\nnight, and this was on the Sunday. And so the king departed, and sent\nunto Sir Launcelot three knights, with the four white shields.\nAnd on the Tuesday they lodged them in a little leaved wood beside\nthere the tournament should be. And there were scaffolds and holes that\nlords and ladies might behold and to give the prize. Then came into the\nfield the king of Northgalis with eightscore helms. And then the three\nknights of Arthur stood by themselves. Then came into the field king\nBagdemagus with fourscore of helms. And then they fewtred their spears,\nand came together with a great dash, and there were slain of knights,\nat the first recounter, twelve of king Bagdemagus\u2019s party, and six of\nthe king of Northgalis\u2019 party, and king Bagdemagus\u2019s party was far set\naback.\n_How Sir Launcelot behaved him in a tournament, and how he met with Sir\n Turquine leading away Sir Gaheris._\nWith that came Sir Launcelot du Lake, and he thrust in with his spear\nin the thickest of the press, and there he smote down with one spear\nfive knights, and of four of them he brake their backs. And in that\nthrong he smote down the king of Northgalis, and brake his thigh in\nthat fall. All this doing of Sir Launcelot saw the three knights of\nArthur. Yonder is a shrewd guest, said Sir Mador de la Porte, therefore\nhave here once at him. So they encountered, and Sir Launcelot bare him\ndown horse and man, so that his shoulder went out of joint. Now\nbefalleth it to me to just, said Mordred, for Sir Mador hath a sore\nfall. Sir Launcelot was ware of him, and gat a great spear in his hand,\nand met him, and Sir Mordred brake a spear upon him, and Sir Launcelot\ngave him such a buffet that the bow of his saddle brake, and so he flew\nover his horse tail, that his helm went into the earth a foot and more,\nthat nigh his neck was broken, and there he lay long in a swoon. Then\ncame in Sir Gahalatine with a spear, and Launcelot against him, with\nall their strength that they might drive, that both their spears\nto-brast even to their hands, and then they flung out with their\nswords, and gave many a grim stroke. Then was Sir Launcelot wroth out\nof measure, and then he smote Sir Gahalatine on the helm, that his nose\nburst out on blood, and ears and mouth both, and therewith his head\nhung low. And therewith his horse ran away with him, and he fell down\nto the earth.\nAnon therewithal Sir Launcelot gat a great spear in his hand, and, or\never that great spear brake, he bare down to the earth sixteen knights,\nsome horse and man, and some the man and not the horse, and there was\nnone but that he hit surely he bare none arms that day. And then he gat\nanother great spear, and smote down twelve knights, and the most part\nof them never throve after. And then the knights of the king of\nNorthgalis would just no more, and there the prize was given unto king\nBagdemagus. So either party departed unto his own place, and Sir\nLauncelot rode forth with king Bagdemagus unto his castle, and there he\nhad passing good cheer both with the king and with his daughter, and\nthey proffered him great gifts. And on the morn he took his leave, and\ntold king Bagdemagus that he would go and seek his brother Sir Lionel,\nthat went from him when that he slept. So he took his horse, and\nbetaught them all to God. And there he said unto the king\u2019s daughter.\nIf ye have need any time of my service, I pray you let me have\nknowledge, and I shall not fail you, as I am true knight.\nAnd so Sir Launcelot departed, and by adventure he came into the same\nforest where he was taken sleeping. And in the midst of an highway he\nmet a damsel riding on a white palfrey, and there either saluted other.\nFair damsel, said Sir Launcelot, know ye in this country any\nadventures? Sir knight, said that damsel, here are adventures near\nhand, and thou durst prove them. Why should I not prove adventures?\nsaid Sir Launcelot; for that cause came I hither. Well, said she, thou\nseemest well to be a good knight, and if thou dare meet with a good\nknight, I shall bring thee where is the best knight and the mightiest\nthat ever thou found, so thou wilt tell me what is thy name, and what\nknight thou art. Damsel, as for to tell thee my name, I take no great\nforce: truly, my name is Sir Launcelot du Lake. Sir, thou beseemest\nwell, here be adventures by that fall for thee, for hereby dwelleth a\nknight that will not be overmatched for no man that I know, unless ye\novermatch him, and his name is Sir Turquine. And, as I understand, he\nhath in his prison of Arthur\u2019s court good knights threescore and four\nthat he hath won with his own hands. But when ye have done that day\u2019s\nwork ye shall promise me as ye are a true knight for to go with me, and\nto help me and other damsels that are distressed daily with a false\nknight. All your intent, damsel, and desire I will fulfil, so ye will\nbring me unto this knight. Now, fair knight, come on your way. And so\nshe brought him unto the ford, and unto the tree where hung the basin.\nSo Sir Launcelot let his horse drink, and then he beat on the basin\nwith the butt of his spear so hard with all his might till the bottom\nfell out, and long he did so, but he saw nothing. Then he rode endlong\nthe gates of that manor nigh half an hour. And then was he ware of a\ngreat knight that drove an horse afore him, and overthwart the horse\nthere lay an armed knight bound. And ever as they came near and near,\nSir Launcelot thought he should know him; then Sir Launcelot was ware\nthat it was Sir Gaheris, Gawaine\u2019s brother, a knight of the Table\nRound. Now fair damsel, said Sir Launcelot, I see yonder cometh a\nknight fast bound that is a fellow of mine, and brother he is unto Sir\nGawaine. And at the first beginning I promise you, by the leave of God,\nto rescue that knight; and unless his master sit better in the saddle I\nshall deliver all the prisoners that he hath out of danger, for I am\nsure that he hath two brethren of mine prisoners with him. By that time\nthat either had seen other they gripped their spears unto them. Now\nfair knight, said Sir Launcelot, put that wounded knight off the horse,\nand let him rest awhile, and let us two prove our strengths. For as it\nis informed me, thou doest and hast done great despite and shame unto\nknights of the Round Table, and therefore now defend thee. And thou be\nof the Table Round, said Turquine, I defy thee and all thy fellowship.\nThat is over much said, said Sir Launcelot.\n_How Sir Launcelot and Sir Turquine fought together._\nAnd then they put their spears in the rests, and came together with\ntheir horses as fast as they might run, and either smote other in the\nmidst of their shields, that both their horses\u2019 backs brast under them,\nand the knights were both astonied, and as soon as they might avoid\ntheir horses they took their shields afore them, and drew out their\nswords, and came together eagerly, and either gave other many strong\nstrokes, for there might neither shields nor harness hold their\nstrokes. And so within awhile they had both grimly wounds, and bled\npassing grievously. Thus they fared two hours or more, trasing and\nrasing either other where they might hit any bare place. Then at the\nlast they were breathless both, and stood leaning on their swords. Now\nfellow, said Sir Turquine, hold thy hand awhile, and tell me what I\nshall ask thee. Say on. Then Turquine said, Thou art the biggest man\nthat ever I met withal, and the best breathed, and like one knight that\nI hate above all other knights; so be it that thou be not he I will\nlightly accord with thee, and for thy love I will deliver all the\nprisoners that I have, that is threescore and four, so thou wilt tell\nme thy name. And thou and I we will be fellows together, and never to\nfail the while that I live. It is well said, said Sir Launcelot, but\nsithen it is so that I may have thy friendship, what knight is he that\nthou so hatest above all other? Faithfully, said Sir Turquine, his name\nis Sir Launcelot du Lake, for he slew my brother Sir Carados at the\ndolorous tower, that was one of the best knights on live; and therefore\nhim I except of knights, for may I once meet with him the one of us\nshall make an end of other, I make mine avow. And for Sir Launcelot\u2019s\nsake I have slain an hundred good knights, and as many I have maimed\nall utterly that they might never after help themselves, and many have\ndied in prison, and yet I have threescore and four, and all shall be\ndelivered, so thou wilt tell me thy name, so it be that thou be not Sir\nLauncelot.\nNow see I well, said Sir Launcelot, that such a man I might be that I\nmight have peace; and such a man I might be that there should be war\nmortal betwixt us: and now sir knight, at thy request I will that thou\nwit and know that I am Launcelot du Lake, king Ban\u2019s son of Benwick,\nand very knight of the Table Round. And now I defy thee, do thy best.\nAh, said Turquine, Launcelot, thou art unto me most welcome that ever\nwas knight, for we shall never part till the one of us be dead. Then\nthey hurtled together as two wild bulls, rashing and lashing with their\nshields and swords that sometimes they fell both over their noses. Thus\nthey fought still two hours and more, and never would have rest, and\nSir Turquine gave Sir Launcelot many wounds that all the ground there\nas they fought was all bespeckled with blood.\n_How Sir Turquine was slain, and how Sir Launcelot bade Sir Gaheris\n deliver all the prisoners._\nThen at the last Sir Turquine waxed faint, and gave somewhat aback, and\nbare his shield low for weariness. That espied Sir Launcelot and lept\nupon him fiercely and got him by the beaver of his helmet, and plucked\nhim down on his knees, and anon he rased off his helm, and smote his\nneck in sunder. And when Sir Launcelot had done this he went unto the\ndamsel and said, Damsel, I am ready to go with you where ye will have\nme, but I have no horse. Fair sir, said she, take this wounded knight\u2019s\nhorse, and send him into this manor, and command him to deliver all the\nprisoners. So Sir Launcelot went unto Gaheris, and prayed him not to be\naggrieved for to lend him his horse. Nay, fair lord, said Sir Gaheris,\nI will that ye take my horse at your own commandment, for ye have both\nsaved me and my horse, and this day I say ye are the best knight in the\nworld, for ye have slain this day in my sight the mightiest man and the\nbest knight, except you, that ever I saw; and sir, said Sir Gaheris, I\npray you tell me your name? Sir, my name is Sir Launcelot du Lake, that\nought to help you of right for king Arthur\u2019s sake, and in especial for\nmy lord Sir Gawaine\u2019s sake, your own dear brother; and when that ye\ncome within yonder manor I am sure ye shall find there many knights of\nthe Round Table, for I have seen many of their shields that I know on\nyonder tree. There is Kay\u2019s shield, and Sir Brandel\u2019s shield, and Sir\nMarhaus\u2019 shield, and Sir Galind\u2019s shield, and Sir Brian Listonoise\u2019s\nshield, and Sir Aliduke\u2019s shield, with many more that I am not now\nadvised of, and also my two brethren\u2019s shields, Sir Ector de Maris and\nSir Lionel: wherefore I pray you greet them all from me, and say that I\nbid them take there such stuff as they find, and that in any wise my\nbrethren go unto the court and abide me there till that I come, for by\nthe feast of Pentecost I cast me to be there, for at this time I must\nride with this damsel for to save my promise. And so he departed from\nGaheris, and Sir Gaheris went into the manor, and there he found a\nyeoman porter keeping there many keys. Anon withal Sir Gaheris threw\nthe porter unto the ground, and took the keys from him, and hastily he\nopened the prison door, and there he let out all the prisoners, and\nevery man loosed other of their bonds. And when they saw Sir Gaheris,\nall they thanked him, for they wend that he was wounded. Not so, said\nGaheris, it was Launcelot that slew him worshipfully with his own\nhands, I saw it with mine own eyes. And he greeteth you all well, and\nprayeth you to haste you to the court, and as unto Sir Lionel and Ector\nde Maris, he prayeth you to abide him at the court. That shall we not\ndo, said his brethren, we will find him and we may live. So shall I,\nsaid Sir Kay, find him or I come at the court, as I am true knight.\nThen all those knights sought the house where as the armour was, and\nthen they armed them, and every knight found his own horse, and all\nthat belonged unto him. And when ever this was done, there came a\nforester with four horses laden with fat venison. Anon Sir Kay said,\nHere is good meat for us for one meal, for we had not many a day no\ngood repast. And so that venison was roasted, baked, and sodden, and so\nafter supper some abode there all that night, but Sir Lionel and Ector\nde Maris and Sir Kay rode after Sir Launcelot to find him if they might.\n_How Sir Launcelot rode with the damsel and slew a knight that\n distressed all ladies, and also a villain that kept a bridge._\nNow turn we unto Sir Launcelot that rode with the damsel in a fair high\nway. Sir, said the damsel, here by this way haunteth a knight that\ndistresseth all ladies and gentlewomen, and at the least he robbeth\nthem or ill-useth them. What, said Sir Launcelot, is he a thief and a\nknight, and a ravisher of women? He doth shame unto the order of\nknighthood and contrary to his oath, it is pity that he liveth. But\nfair damsel ye shall ride on afore yourself, and I will keep myself in\ncovert, and if that he trouble you or distress you, I shall be your\nrescue, and learn him to be ruled as a knight. So the maid rode on by\nthe way a soft ambling pace. And within awhile came out that knight on\nhorseback out of the wood, and his page with him, and there he put the\ndamsel from her horse, and then she cried. With that came Launcelot as\nfast as he might, till he came to that knight, saying, Oh thou false\nknight and traitor unto knighthood, who did learn thee to distress\nladies and gentlewomen? When the knight saw Sir Launcelot thus rebuking\nhim, he answered not, but drew his sword and rode unto Sir Launcelot.\nAnd Sir Launcelot threw his spear from him, and drew out his sword, and\nstrake him such a buffet on the helmet that he clave his head and neck\nunto the throat. Now hast thou thy payment that long thou hast\ndeserved. That is truth, said the damsel, for like as Turquine watched\nto destroy knights, so did this knight attend to destroy and distress\nladies, damsels, and gentlewomen, and his name was Sir Peris de Forest\nSavage. Now damsel, said Sir Launcelot, will ye any more service of me?\nNay sir, she said, at this time; but Almighty Jesu preserve you\nwheresoever ye ride or go, for the courtiest knight thou art and\nmeekest unto all ladies and gentlewomen that now liveth. But one thing,\nsir knight, me thinketh ye lack, ye that are a knight wifeless, that ye\nwill not love some maiden or gentlewoman, for I could never hear say\nthat ever ye loved any of no manner degree, and that is great pity; but\nit is noised that ye love queen Guenever, and that she hath ordained by\nenchantment that ye shall never love none other but her, nor none other\ndamsel nor lady shall rejoice you; wherefore many in this land, of high\nestate and low, make great sorrow. Fair damsel, said Sir Launcelot, I\nmay not warn people to speak of me what it pleaseth them: but for to be\na wedded man I think it not, for then I must couch with her, and leave\narms and tournaments, battles and adventures. And as for to say for to\ntake my pleasance with paramours, that will I refuse in principal for\ndread of God. For knights that be adulterous, or wanton, shall not be\nhappy nor fortunate unto the wars, for either they shall be overcome\nwith a simpler knight than they be themselves, or else they shall by\nmishap and their cursedness slay better men than they be themselves;\nand who that so useth shall be unhappy, and all thing is unhappy that\nis about them. And so Sir Launcelot and she departed.\nAnd then he rode in a deep forest two days and more, and had strait\nlodging. So on the third day he rode over a long bridge, and there\nstart upon him suddenly a passing foul churl, and he smote his horse on\nthe nose that he turned about, and asked him why he rode over that\nbridge without his licence. Why should I not ride this way? said Sir\nLauncelot, I may not ride beside. Thou shalt not choose, said the\nchurl, and lashed at him with a great club shod with iron. Then Sir\nLauncelot drew his sword, and put the stroke aback, and clave his head\nunto the breast. At the end of the bridge was a fair village, and all\nthe people men and women cried on Sir Launcelot, and said, A worse deed\ndiddest thou never for thyself, for thou hast slain the chief porter of\nour castle. Sir Launcelot let them say what they would, and straight he\nwent into the castle; and when he came into the castle he alight, and\ntied his horse to a ring on the wall; and there he saw a fair green\ncourt, and thither he dressed himself, for there him thought was a fair\nplace to fight in. So he looked about, and saw much people in doors and\nwindows, that said, Fair knight thou art unhappy.\n_How Sir Launcelot slew two giants, and made a castle free._\nAnon withal came there upon him two great giants, well armed all save\nthe heads, with two horrible clubs in their hands. Sir Launcelot put\nhis shield afore him, and put the stroke away of the one giant, and\nwith his sword he clave his head asunder. When his fellow saw that, he\nran away as he were wood, for fear of the horrible strokes, and Sir\nLauncelot after him with all his might, and smote him on the shoulder,\nand clave him to the middle. Then Sir Launcelot went into the hall, and\nthere came afore him threescore ladies and damsels, and all kneeled\nunto him, and thanked God and him of their deliverance. For, sir, said\nthey, the most part of us have been here this seven year their\nprisoners, and we have worked all manner of silk works for our meat,\nand we are all great gentlewomen born, and blessed be the time, knight,\nthat ever thou wert born; for thou hast done the most worship that ever\ndid knight in the world, that will we bear record, and we all pray you\nto tell us your name, that we may tell our friends who delivered us out\nof prison. Fair damsels, he said, my name is Sir Launcelot du Lake. Ah,\nsir, said they all, well mayest thou be he, for else save yourself, as\nwe deemed, there might never knight have the better of these two\ngiants, for many fair knights have assayed it, and here have ended, and\nmany times have we wished after you, and these two giants dread never\nknight but you. Now may ye say, said Sir Launcelot, unto your friends,\nhow and who hath delivered you, and greet them all from me, and if that\nI come in any of your marches, shew me such cheer as ye have cause; and\nwhat treasure that there is in this castle I give it you for a reward\nfor your grievance: and the lord that is the owner of this castle I\nwould that he received it as is right. Fair sir, said they, the name of\nthis castle is Tintagil, and a duke owned it some time that had wedded\nfair Igraine, and after wedded her Uther Pendragon and gat on her\nArthur. Well, said Sir Launcelot, I understand to whom this castle\nbelongeth. And so he departed from them and betaught them unto God. And\nthen he mounted upon his horse, and rode into many strange and wild\ncountries and through many waters and valleys, and evil was he lodged.\nAnd at the last by fortune him happened against a night to come to a\nfair courtelage, and therein he found an old gentlewoman that lodged\nhim with a good will, and there he had good cheer for him and his\nhorse. And when time was, his host brought him into a fair garret over\nthe gate to his bed. There Sir Launcelot unarmed him, and set his\nharness by him, and went to bed, and anon he fell on sleep. So soon\nafter there came one on horseback, and knocked at the gate in great\nhaste. And when Sir Launcelot heard this he arose up, and looked out at\nthe window, and saw by the moon-light three knights came riding after\nthat one man, and all three lashed on him at once with swords, and that\none knight turned on them knightly again and defended him. Truly, said\nSir Launcelot, yonder one knight shall I help, for it were shame for me\nto see three knights on one, and if he be slain I am partner of his\ndeath. And therewith he took his harness and went out at a window by a\nsheet down to the four knights, and then Sir Launcelot said on high,\nTurn you knights unto me, and leave your fighting with that knight. And\nthen they all three left Sir Kay, and turned unto Sir Launcelot, and\nthere began great battle, for they alight all three, and strake many\ngreat strokes at Sir Launcelot, and assailed him on every side. Then\nSir Kay dressed him for to have holpen Sir Launcelot. Nay, sir, said\nhe, I will none of your help, therefore as ye will have my help let me\nalone with them. Sir Kay for the pleasure of the knight suffered him\nfor to do his will, and so stood aside. And then anon within six\nstrokes Sir Launcelot had stricken them to the earth.\nAnd then they all three cried, Sir knight, we yield us unto you as man\nof might matchless. As to that, said Sir Launcelot, I will not take\nyour yielding unto me, but so that ye yield you unto Sir Kay the\nseneschal, on that covenant I will save your lives and else not. Fair\nknight, said they, that were we loth to do; for as for Sir Kay we\nchased him hither, and had overcome him had not ye been; therefore to\nyield us unto him it were no reason. Well, as to that, said Sir\nLauncelot, advise you well, for ye may choose whether ye will die or\nlive, for and ye be yielden it shall be unto Sir Kay. Fair knight, then\nthey said, in saving our lives we will do as thou commandest us. Then\nshall ye, said Sir Launcelot, on Whitsunday next coming go unto the\ncourt of king Arthur, and there shall ye yield you unto queen Guenever,\nand put you all three in her grace and mercy, and say that Sir Kay sent\nyou thither to be her prisoners. Sir, they said, it shall done by the\nfaith of our bodies, and we be living. And there they swore, every\nknight upon his sword. And so Sir Launcelot suffered them so to depart.\nAnd then Sir Launcelot knocked at the gate with the pommel of his\nsword, and with that came his host, and in they entered, Sir Kay and\nhe. Sir, said his host, I wend ye had been in your bed. So I was, said\nSir Launcelot, but I arose and lept out at my window for to help an old\nfellow of mine. And so when they came nigh the light Sir Kay knew well\nthat it was Sir Launcelot, and therewith he kneeled down and thanked\nhim of all his kindness that he hath holpen him twice from the death.\nSir, he said, I have done nothing but that I ought to do, and ye are\nwelcome, and here shall ye repose you and take your rest. So when Sir\nKay was unarmed he asked after meat, so there was meat fetched him, and\nhe ate strongly. And when he had supped they went to their beds, and\nwere lodged together in one bed. On the morn Sir Launcelot arose early,\nand left Sir Kay sleeping: and Sir Launcelot took Sir Kay\u2019s armour and\nhis shield and armed him: and so he went to the stable and took his\nhorse, and took his leave of his host, and so he departed. Then soon\nafter arose Sir Kay and missed Sir Launcelot: and then he espied that\nhe had his armour and his horse. Now by my faith I know well that he\nwill grieve some of the court of king Arthur: for on him knights will\nbe bold, and deem that it is I, and that will beguile them: and because\nof his armour and shield I am sure I shall ride in peace. And then soon\nafter departed Sir Kay, and thanked his host.\n_How Sir Launcelot rode disguised in Sir Kay\u2019s harness, and how he\n smote down a knight._\nNow turn we unto Sir Launcelot that had ridden long in a great forest,\nand at the last he came into a low country full of fair rivers and\nmeadows. And afore him he saw a long bridge, and three pavilions stood\nthereon of silk and sandal of divers hue. And without the pavilions\nhung three white shields on truncheons of spears, and great long spears\nstood upright by the pavilions, and at every pavilion\u2019s door stood\nthree fresh squires, and so Sir Launcelot passed by them, and spake no\nword. When he was past the three knights said that it was the proud\nKay, he weeneth no knight so good as he, and the contrary is ofttime\nproved. By my faith, said one of the knights, his name was Sir Gaunter,\nI will ride after him and assay him for all his pride, and ye may\nbehold how that I speed. So this knight, Sir Gaunter, armed him, and\nhung his shield upon his shoulder and mounted upon a great horse, and\ngat his spear in his hand, and galloped after Sir Launcelot. And when\nhe came nigh him, he cried, Abide thou proud knight Sir Kay, for thou\nshalt not pass quit. So Sir Launcelot turned him, and either fewtred\ntheir spears, and came together with all their mights, and Sir\nGaunter\u2019s spear brake, but Sir Launcelot smote him down, horse and man.\nAnd when Sir Gaunter was at the earth his brethren said each one to\nother, Yonder knight is not Sir Kay, for he is bigger than he. I dare\nlay my head, said Sir Gilmere, yonder knight hath slain Sir Kay and\nhath taken his horse and harness. Whether it be so or no, said Sir\nRaynold the third brother, let us now go mount upon our horses and\nrescue our brother Sir Gaunter upon pain of death. We all shall have\nwork enough to match that knight, for ever me seemeth by his person it\nis Sir Launcelot, or Sir Tristam, or Sir Pelleas the good knight. Then\nanon they took their horses and overtook Sir Launcelot, and Sir Gilmere\nput forth his spear and ran to Sir Launcelot and Sir Launcelot smote\nhim down that he lay in a swoon. Sir knight, said Sir Raynold, thou art\na strong man, and, as I suppose, thou hast slain my two brethren, for\nthe which riseth my heart sore against thee; and if I might with my\nworship I would not have ado with thee, but needs I must take part as\nthey do; and therefore knight, he said, keep thyself. And so they\nhurtled together with all their mights, and all to-shivered both their\nspears. And then they drew their swords and lashed together eagerly.\nAnon therewith arose Sir Gaunter, and came unto his brother Sir\nGilmere, and bad him arise and help we our brother Sir Raynold, that\nyonder marvellously matcheth yonder good knight. Therewithal they lept\non their horses, and hurtled unto Sir Launcelot. And when he saw them\ncome, he smote a sore stroke unto Sir Raynold, that he fell off his\nhorse to the ground, and then he struck to the other two brethren, and\nat two strokes he strake them down to the earth. With that Sir Raynold\nbegan to start up with his head all bloody, and came straight unto Sir\nLauncelot. Now let be, said Sir Launcelot, I was not far from thee when\nthou wert made knight, Sir Raynold, and also I know thou art a good\nknight, and loth I were to slay thee. Gramercy, said Sir Raynold, as\nfor your goodness; and I dare say as for me and my brethren, we will\nnot be loth to yield us unto you, with that we knew your name; for well\nwe know ye are not Sir Kay. As for that be it as it may, for ye shall\nyield you unto dame Guenever, and look that ye be with her on\nWhitsunday, and yield you unto her as prisoners, and say that Sir Kay\nsent you unto her. Then they swore it should be done. And so passed\nforth Sir Launcelot, and each one of the brethren helped each other as\nwell as they might.\n_How Sir Launcelot justed against four knights of the Round Table, and\n overthrew them._\nSo Sir Launcelot rode into a deep forest, and there by in a slade he\nsaw four knights hoving under an oak, and they were of Arthur\u2019s court;\none was Sagramour le Desirous, and Sir Ector de Maris, and Sir Gawaine,\nand Sir Uwaine. Anon as these four knights had espied Sir Launcelot\nthey wend by his arms it had been Sir Kay. Now by my faith, said Sir\nSagramour, I will prove Sir Kay\u2019s might, and gat his spear in his hand,\nand came toward Sir Launcelot. Therewith Sir Launcelot was ware, and\nknew him well, and fewtred his spear against him, and smote Sir\nSagramour so sore that horse and man fell both to the earth. Lo, my\nfellows, said Sir Ector, yonder ye may see what a buffet he hath; that\nknight is much bigger than ever was Sir Kay. Now shall ye see what I\nmay do to him. So Sir Ector gat his spear in his hand and galloped\ntoward Sir Launcelot, and Sir Launcelot smote him through the shield\nand shoulder that horse and man went to the earth, and ever his spear\nheld. By my faith, said Sir Uwaine, yonder is a strong knight, and I am\nsure he hath slain Sir Kay; and I see by his great strength it will be\nhard to match him. And therewithal Sir Uwaine gat his spear in his hand\nand rode toward Sir Launcelot, and Sir Launcelot knew him well, and so\nhe met him on the plain and gave him such a buffet that he was\nastonied, that long he wist not where he was. Now see I well, said Sir\nGawaine, I must encounter with that knight. Then he dressed his shield\nand gat a good spear in his hand, and Sir Launcelot knew him well, and\nthen they let run their horses with all their mights, and either knight\nsmote other in midst of the shield. But Sir Gawaine\u2019s spear to-brast,\nand Sir Launcelot charged so sore upon him that his horse reversed up\nso down. And much sorrow had Sir Gawaine to avoid his horse, and so Sir\nLauncelot passed on a pace, and smiled, and said, God give him joy that\nthis spear made, for there came never a better in my hand. Then the\nfour knights went each one to other, and comforted each other. What say\nye by this gest? said Sir Gawaine, that one spear hath felled us four.\nWe command him unto the devil, they said all, for he is a man of great\nmight. Ye may well say it, said Sir Gawaine, that he is a man of might,\nfor I dare lay my head it is Sir Launcelot, I know it by his riding.\nLet him go, said Sir Gawaine, for when we come to the court then shall\nwe wit. And then had they much sorrow to get their horses again.\n_How Sir Launcelot followed a brachet into a castle where he found a\n dead knight, and how he after was required of a damsel to heal her\n brother._\nNow leave we there and speak of Sir Launcelot that rode a great while\nin a deep forest, where he saw a black brachet, seeking in manner as it\nhad been in the track of an hurt deer, and therewith he rode after the\nbrachet, and he saw lie on the ground a large track of blood. And then\nSir Launcelot rode after. And ever the brachet looked behind her, and\nso she went through a great marsh, and ever Sir Launcelot followed. And\nthen was he ware of an old manor, and thither ran the brachet, and so\nover the bridge. So Sir Launcelot rode over that bridge that was old\nand feeble; and when he came in midst of a great hall, there he saw lie\na dead knight that was a seemly man, and that brachet licked his\nwounds. And therewithal came out a lady weeping and wringing her hands,\nand she said, Oh knight, too much sorrow hast thou brought me. Why say\nye so? said Sir Launcelot, I did never this knight no harm, for hither\nby track of blood this brachet brought me; and therefore fair lady be\nnot displeased with me, for I am full sore aggrieved of your grievance.\nTruly sir, she said, I trow it be not ye that have slain my husband,\nfor he that did that deed is sore wounded, and he is never likely to\nrecover, that shall I ensure him. What was your husband\u2019s name? said\nSir Launcelot. Sir, said she, his name was called Sir Gilbert, one of\nthe best knights of the world, and he that hath slain him I know not\nhis name. Now God send you better comfort, said Sir Launcelot. And so\nhe departed and went into the forest again, and there he met with a\ndamsel, the which knew him well, and she said aloud, Well be ye found,\nmy lord; and now I require thee on thy knighthood help my brother that\nis sore wounded, and never stinteth bleeding, for this day fought he\nwith Sir Gilbert and slew him in plain battle, and there was my brother\nsore wounded, and there is a lady a sorceress that dwelleth in a castle\nhere beside, and this day she told me my brother\u2019s wounds should never\nbe whole till I could find a knight that would go into the chapel\nperilous, and there he should find a sword and a bloody cloth that the\nwounded knight was lapped in, and a piece of that cloth and sword\nshould heal my brother\u2019s wounds, so that his wounds were searched with\nthe sword and the cloth. This is a marvellous thing, said Sir\nLauncelot, but what is your brother\u2019s name? Sir, said she, his name is\nSir Meliot de Logres. That me repenteth, said Sir Launcelot, for he is\na fellow of the Table Round, and to his help I will do my power. Then,\nsir, said she, follow even this high way, and it will bring you unto\nthe chapel perilous, and here I shall abide till God send you here\nagain, and but you speed I know no knight living that may achieve that\nadventure.\n_How Sir Launcelot came into the chapel perilous, and gat there of a\n dead corpse a piece of the cloth and a sword._\nRight so Sir Launcelot departed, and when he came unto the chapel\nperilous he alight down, and tied his horse to a little gate. And as\nsoon as he was within the churchyard he saw on the front of the chapel\nmany fair rich shields turned up so down, and many of the shields Sir\nLauncelot had seen knights bear beforehand. With that he saw by him\nstand there a thirty great knights, more by a yard than any man that\never he had seen, and all those grinned and gnashed at Sir Launcelot.\nAnd when he saw their countenance he dread him sore, and so put his\nshield afore him, and took his sword in his hand ready unto battle; and\nthey were all armed in black harness, ready with their shields and\ntheir swords drawn. And when Sir Launcelot would have gone throughout\nthem, they scattered on every side of him, and gave him the way, and\ntherewith he waxed all bold and entered into the chapel, and then he\nsaw no light but a dim lamp burning, and then was he ware of a corpse\ncovered with a cloth of silk. Then Sir Launcelot stooped down and cut a\npiece away of that cloth, and then it fared under him as the earth had\nquaked a little; there withal he feared. And then he saw a fair sword\nlie by the dead knight, and that he gat in his hand and hied him out of\nthe chapel. Anon as ever he was in the chapel-yard all the knights\nspake to him with a grimly voice, and said, Knight, Sir Launcelot, lay\nthat sword from thee, or else thou shalt die. Whether I live or die,\nsaid Sir Launcelot, will no great word get it again, therefore fight\nfor it and ye list. Then right so he passed throughout them, and beyond\nthe chapel-yard there met him a fair damsel, and said, Sir Launcelot,\nleave that sword behind thee, or thou wilt die for it. I leave it not,\nsaid Sir Launcelot, for no entreaties. No, said she, and thou didst\nleave that sword queen Guenever should ye never see. Then were I a fool\nand I would leave this sword, said Sir Launcelot. Now gentle knight,\nsaid the damsel, I require thee to kiss me but once. Nay, said Sir\nLauncelot, that God me forbid. Well sir, said she, and thou haddest\nkissed me thy life days had been done, but now alas, she said, I have\nlost all my labour, for I ordained this chapel for thy sake, and for\nSir Gawaine. And once I had Sir Gawaine within my power, and at that\ntime he fought with that knight that lieth there dead in yonder chapel,\nSir Gilbert, and at that time he smote off the left hand of Sir\nGilbert. And Sir Launcelot now I tell thee, I have loved thee this\nseven year, but there may no woman have thy love but queen Guenever.\nBut since I may not rejoice thee to have thy body alive, I had kept no\nmore joy in this world but to have thy body dead. Then would I have\nbalmed it and preserved it, and so have kept it my life days, and daily\nI should have kissed thee in despite of queen Guenever. Ye say well,\nsaid Sir Launcelot, God preserve me from your subtil crafts. And\ntherewithal he took his horse and so departed from her. And as the book\nsaith, when Sir Launcelot was departed she took such sorrow that she\ndied within a fourteen night, and her name was Hellawes the sorceress,\nlady of the castle Nigramous. Anon Sir Launcelot met with the damsel,\nSir Meliot\u2019s sister. And when she saw him she clapped her hands and\nwept for joy, and then they rode unto a castle thereby, where Sir\nMeliot lay. And anon as Sir Launcelot saw him he knew him, but he was\npale as the earth for bleeding. When Sir Meliot saw Sir Launcelot, he\nkneeled upon his knees and cried on high: O lord Sir Launcelot help me!\nAnon Sir Launcelot leapt unto him, and touched his wounds with Sir\nGilbert\u2019s sword, and then he wiped his wounds with a part of the bloody\ncloth that Sir Gilbert was wrapped in, and anon a wholer man in his\nlife was he never. And then there was great joy between them, and they\nmade Sir Launcelot all the cheer that they might, and so on the morn\nSir Launcelot took his leave, and bad Sir Meliot hie him to the court\nof my lord Arthur, for it draweth nigh to the feast of Pentecost, and\nthere, by the grace of God, ye shall find me. And therewith they\ndeparted.\n_How Sir Launcelot at the request of a lady recovered a falcon, by\n which he was deceived._\nAnd so Sir Launcelot rode through many strange countries, over marshes\nand valleys, till by fortune he came to a fair castle, and as he passed\nbeyond the castle him thought he heard two bells ring. And then was he\nware of a falcon came flying over his head toward an high elm, and long\nlines about her feet, and as she flew unto the elm to take her perch,\nthe lines overcast about a bough. And when she would have taken her\nflight she hung by the legs fast, and Sir Launcelot saw how she hung,\nand beheld the fair falcon perigot, and he was sorry for her. The\nmeanwhile came a lady out of the castle, and cried on high, O\nLauncelot, Launcelot, as thou art flower of all knights help me to get\nmy hawk, for and my hawk be lost my lord will destroy me; for I kept\nthe hawk and she slipt from me, and if my lord my husband wit it, he is\nso hasty that he will slay me. What is your lord\u2019s name? said Sir\nLauncelot. Sir, she said, his name is Sir Phelot, a knight that longeth\nunto the king of Northgalis. Well, fair lady, since that ye know my\nname, and require me of knighthood to help you, I will do what I may to\nget your hawk, and yet truly I am an ill climber, and the tree is\npassing high, and few boughs to help me withal. And therewith Sir\nLauncelot alight, and tied his horse to the same tree, and prayed the\nlady to unarm him. And so when he was unarmed, he put off all his\nclothes unto his shirt and breeches, and with might and force he\nclimbed up to the falcon, and tied the lines to a great rotten branch,\nand threw the hawk down and it withal. Anon the lady gat the hawk in\nher hand, and therewithal came out Sir Phelot out of the groves\nsuddenly, that was her husband, all armed, and with his naked sword in\nhis hand, and said, O knight, Launcelot, now have I found thee as I\nwould: and stood at the bole of the tree to slay him. Ah lady, said Sir\nLauncelot, why have ye betrayed me? She hath done, said Sir Phelot, but\nas I commanded her, and therefore there is none other boot but thine\nhour is come that thou must die. That were shame unto thee, said Sir\nLauncelot, thou an armed knight to slay a naked man by treason. Thou\ngettest none other grace, said Sir Phelot, and therefore help thyself\nand thou canst. Truly, said Sir Launcelot, that shall be thy shame, but\nsince thou wilt do none other, take mine harness with thee, and hang my\nsword upon a bough that I may get it, and then do thy best to slay me\nand thou canst. Nay, nay, said Sir Phelot, for I know thee better than\nthou weenest, therefore thou gettest no weapon and I may keep you\ntherefro. Alas, said Sir Launcelot, that ever knight should die\nweaponless. And therewith he awaited above him and under him, and over\nhis head he saw a rounspik, a big bough leafless, and therewith he\nbrake it off by the body; and then he came lower, and awaited how his\nown horse stood, and suddenly he lept on the farther side of the horse\nfrom the knight. And then Sir Phelot lashed at him eagerly, weening to\nhave slain him; but Sir Launcelot put away the stroke with the\nrounspik, and therewith he smote him on the one side of the head, that\nhe fell down in a swoon to the ground. So then Sir Launcelot took his\nsword out of his hand, and struck his neck from the body. Then cried\nthe lady, Alas, why hast thou slain my husband? I am not causer, said\nSir Launcelot, for with falsehood ye would have had slain me with\ntreason, and now it is fallen on you both. And then she swooned as\nthough she would die. And therewithal Sir Launcelot gat all his armour\nas well as he might, and put it upon him, for dread of more resort, for\nhe dread that the knight\u2019s castle was so nigh. And so soon as he might\nhe took his horse and departed, and thanked God that he had escaped\nthat adventure.\n_How Sir Launcelot overtook a knight which chased his wife to have\n slain her, and how he said to him._\nSo Sir Launcelot rode many wild ways, throughout marshes and many wild\nways. And as he rode in a valley he saw a knight chasing a lady with a\nnaked sword to have slain her. And by fortune, as this knight should\nhave slain this lady, she cried on Sir Launcelot and prayed him to\nrescue her. When Sir Launcelot saw that mischief he took his horse and\nrode between them, saying, Knight, fie for shame, why wilt thou slay\nthis lady? thou dost shame unto thee and all knights. What hast thou to\ndo betwixt me and my wife? said the knight; I will slay her, maugre thy\nhead. That shall ye not, said Sir Launcelot, for rather we two will\nhave ado together. Sir Launcelot, said the knight, thou doest not thy\npart, for this lady hath betrayed me. It is not so, said the lady,\ntruly he saith wrong on me, and because I love and cherish my cousin\ngerman, he is jealous betwixt him and me, and as I shall answer to God,\nthere was never sin betwixt us. But, sir, said the lady, as thou art\ncalled the worshipfullest knight of the world, I require thee of true\nknighthood keep me and save me, for whatsoever ye say he will slay me,\nfor he is without mercy. Have ye no doubt, said Launcelot, it shall not\nlie in his power. Sir, said the knight, in your sight I will be ruled\nas ye will have me. And so Sir Launcelot rode on the one side and she\non the other: he had not ridden but a while but the knight bad Sir\nLauncelot turn him and look behind him and said, Sir, yonder come men\nof arms after us riding. And so Sir Launcelot turned him, and thought\nno treason. And therewith was the knight and the lady on one side, and\nsuddenly he swapped off his lady\u2019s head. And when Sir Launcelot had\nespied him what he had done, he said, and called him, Traitor thou hast\nshamed me for ever. And suddenly Sir Launcelot alight off his horse,\nand pulled out his sword to slay him. And therewithal he fell flat to\nthe earth, and gripped Sir Launcelot by the thighs, and cried mercy.\nFie on thee said Sir Launcelot, thou shameful knight, thou mayest have\nno mercy, and therefore arise and fight with me. Nay, said the knight,\nI will never arise till ye grant me mercy. Now will I proffer thee\nfair, said Launcelot: I will unarm me unto my shirt, and will have\nnothing upon me but my shirt, and my sword in my hand, and if thou\ncanst slay me quit be thou for ever. Nay, sir, said Pedivere, that will\nI never. Well, said Sir Launcelot, take this lady and the head, and\nbear it upon thee, and here shalt thou swear upon my sword to bear it\nalway upon thy back, and never to rest till thou come to queen\nGuenever. Sir, said he, that will I do, by the faith of my body. Now,\nsaid Launcelot, tell me what is your name. Sir, my name is Pedivere. In\na shameful hour wert thou born, said Launcelot. So Pedivere departed\nwith the dead lady and the head, and found the queen with king Arthur\nat Winchester, and there he told all the truth. Sir knight, said the\nqueen, this is an horrible deed and a shameful, and a great rebuke unto\nSir Launcelot: but notwithstanding his worship is not known in divers\ncountries. But this shall I give you in penance: make ye as good skift\nas ye can, ye shall bear this lady with you on horseback unto the Pope\nof Rome, and of him receive your penance for your foul deeds, and ye\nshall never rest one night there as ye do another, and if ye go to any\nbed the dead body shall lie with you. This oath there he made, and so\ndeparted, and as it telleth in the French book, when he came to Rome\nthe Pope bad him go again to queen Guenever, and in Rome was his lady\nburied by the Pope\u2019s commandment. And after this Sir Pedivere fell to\ngreat goodness, and was an holy man and an hermit.\n_How Sir Launcelot came to king Arthur\u2019s court, and how there were\n recounted all his noble feats and acts._\nNow turn we unto Sir Launcelot du Lake, that came home two days afore\nthe feast of Pentecost. And the king and all the court were passing\nfain of his coming. And when Sir Gawaine, Sir Uwaine, Sir Sagramour,\nSir Ector de Maris, saw Sir Launcelot in Kay\u2019s armour, then they wist\nwell it was he that smote them down all with one spear. Then there was\nlaughing and smiling among them. And ever now and now came all the\nknights home that Sir Turquine had prisoners, and they all honoured and\nworshipped Sir Launcelot. When Sir Gaheris heard them speak, he said, I\nsaw all the battle from the beginning to the ending, and there he told\nking Arthur all how it was, and how Sir Turquine was the strongest\nknight that ever he saw except Sir Launcelot: there were many knights\nbear him record, nigh threescore. Then Sir Kay told the king how Sir\nLauncelot had rescued him when he should have been slain, and how he\nmade the knights yield them to me, and not to him. And there they were,\nall three, and bare record. And by my faith, said Sir Kay, because Sir\nLauncelot took my harness and left me his I rode in good peace, and no\nman would have ado with me. Anon therewithal came the three knights\nthat fought with Sir Launcelot at the long bridge, and there they\nyielded them unto Sir Kay, and Sir Kay forsook them and said he fought\nnever with them: But I shall ease your hearts, said Sir Kay, yonder is\nSir Launcelot that overcame you. When they wist that, they were glad.\nAnd then Sir Meliot de Logres came home, and told king Arthur how Sir\nLauncelot had saved him from the death. And all his deeds were known,\nhow four queens, sorceresses, had him in prison, and how he was\ndelivered by king Bagdemagus\u2019s daughter. Also there were told all the\ngreat deeds of arms that Sir Launcelot did betwixt the two kings, that\nis to say, the king of Northgalis and king Bagdemagus. All the truth\nSir Gahalantine did tell, and Sir Mador de la Porte, and Sir Mordred,\nfor they were at that same tournament. Then came in the lady that knew\nSir Launcelot when that he wounded Sir Belleus at the pavilion. And\nthere, at the request of Sir Launcelot, Sir Belleus was made knight of\nthe Round Table.\nAnd so at that time Sir Launcelot had the greatest name of any knight\nof the world, and most he was honoured of high and low.\nExplicit the noble tale of syr Launcelot du lake, whiche is the vi.\n book. Here foloweth the tale of syr Gareth of Orkeney, that was\n called Beaumayns by syr kay, and is the seventh book.\n_How Beaumains came to king Arthur\u2019s court and demanded three petitions\n of king Arthur._\nWhen Arthur held his Round Table most fully, it fortuned that he\ncommanded that the high feast of Pentecost should be holden at a city\nand a castle, the which in those days was called Kink-Kenadon, upon the\nsands that marched nigh Wales. So ever the king had a custom that at\nthe feast of Pentecost, in especial afore other feasts in the year, he\nwould not go that day to meat until he had heard or seen of a great\nmarvel. And for that custom all manner of strange adventures came\nbefore Arthur as at that feast before all other feasts. And so Sir\nGawaine, a little tofore noon of the day of Pentecost, espied at a\nwindow three men upon horseback, and a dwarf on foot. And so the three\nmen alight and the dwarf kept their horses, and one of the three men\nwas higher than the other twain by a foot and a half. Then Sir Gawaine\nwent unto the king and said, Sir, go to your meat, for here at the hand\ncome strange adventures. So Arthur went unto his meat with many other\nkings. And there were all the knights of the Round Table, save those\nthat were prisoners or slain at a recounter. Then at the high feast\nevermore they should be fulfilled the whole number of an hundred and\nfifty, for then was the Round Table fully complished. Right so came\ninto the hall two men well beseen and richly, and upon their shoulders\nthere leaned the goodliest young man and the fairest that ever they all\nsaw, and he was large and long and broad in the shoulders, and well\nvisaged, and the fairest and the largest handed that ever man saw, but\nhe fared as though he might not go nor bear himself, but if he leaned\nupon their shoulders. Anon as Arthur saw him there was made peace and\nroom, and right so they went with him unto the high dais, without\nsaying of any words. Then this much young man pulled him aback, and\neasily stretched up straight, saying, King Arthur, God you bless, and\nall your fair fellowship, and in especial the fellowship of the Table\nRound. And for this cause I am come hither, to pray you and require you\nto give me three gifts, and they shall not be unreasonably asked, but\nthat ye may worshipfully and honourably grant them me, and to you no\ngreat hurt nor loss. And the first done and gift I will ask now, and\nthe other two gifts I will ask this day twelvemonth wheresoever ye hold\nyour high feast. Now ask, said Arthur, and ye shall have your asking.\nNow sir, this is my petition for this feast, that ye will give me meat\nand drink sufficiently for this twelvemonth, and at that day I will ask\nmine other two gifts. My fair son, said Arthur, ask better, I counsel\nthee, for this is but a simple asking, for my heart giveth me to thee\ngreatly that thou art come of men of worship, and greatly my conceit\nfaileth me but thou shalt prove a man of right great worship. Sir, said\nhe, thereof be as it may, I have asked that I will ask. Well, said the\nking, ye shall have meat and drink enough, I never defended that none,\nneither my friend nor my foe. But what is thy name I would wit? I\ncannot tell you, said he. That is marvel, said the king, that thou\nknowest not thy name, and thou art the goodliest young man that ever I\nsaw. Then the king betook him to Sir Kay, the steward, and charged him\nthat he should give him of all manner of meats and drinks of the best,\nand also that he had all manner of finding as though he were a lord\u2019s\nson. That shall little need, said Sir Kay, to do such cost upon him;\nfor I dare undertake he is a villain born, and never will make man, for\nand he had come of gentlemen he would have asked of you horse and\narmour, but such as he is, so he asketh. And since he hath no name, I\nshall give him a name that shall be Beaumains, that is Fair-hands, and\ninto the kitchen I shall bring him, and there he shall have fat browis\nevery day, that he shall be as fat by the twelvemonth\u2019s end as a pork\nhog. Right so the two men departed, and beleft him to Sir Kay, that\nscorned him and mocked him.\n_How Sir Launcelot and Sir Gawaine were wroth because Sir Kay mocked\n Beaumains, and of a damsel which desired a knight for to fight for a\n lady._\nThereat was Sir Gawaine wroth, and in especial Sir Launcelot bad Sir\nKay leave his mocking, for I dare lay my head he shall prove a man of\ngreat worship. Let be, said Sir Kay, it may not be, by no reason, for\nas he is so hath he asked. Beware, said Sir Launcelot, so ye gave the\ngood knight Brewnor, Sir Dinadan\u2019s brother, a name, and ye called him\nLa Cote Male Taile, and that turned you to anger afterward. As for\nthat, said Sir Kay, this shall never prove none such; for Sir Brewnor\ndesired ever worship, and this desireth bread and drink, and broth;\nupon pain of my life he was fostered up in some abbey, and, howsoever\nit was, they failed meat and drink, and so hither he is come for his\nsustenance. And so Sir Kay bad get him a place and sit down to meat, so\nBeaumains went to the hall door, and set him down among boys and lads,\nand there he eat sadly. And then Sir Launcelot after meat bad him come\nto his chamber, and there he should have meat and drink enough. And so\ndid Sir Gawaine: but he refused them all; he would do none other but as\nSir Kay commanded him, for no proffer. But as touching Sir Gawaine, he\nhad reason to proffer him lodging, meat, and drink, for that proffer\ncame of his blood, for he was nearer kin to him than he wist. But that\nas Sir Launcelot did was of his great gentleness and courtesy. So thus\nhe was put into the kitchen, and lay nightly as the boys of the kitchen\ndid. And so he endured all that twelvemonth, and never displeased man\nnor child, but always he was meek and mild. But ever when that he saw\nany justing of knights, that would he see and he might. And ever Sir\nLauncelot would give him gold to spend, and clothes, and so did Sir\nGawaine. And where were any masteries done thereat would he be, and\nthere might none cast bar nor stone to him by two yards. Then would Sir\nKay say, How liketh you my boy of the kitchen? So it passed on till the\nfeast of Whitsuntide. And at that time the king held it at Carlion in\nthe most royalest wise that might be, like as he did yearly.\nBut the king would no meat eat upon the Whitsunday until he heard some\nadventures. Then came there a squire to the king and said, Sir, ye may\ngo to your meat, for here cometh a damsel with some strange adventures.\nThen was the king glad, and set him down. Right so there came a damsel\ninto the hall, and saluted the king, and prayed him of succour. For\nwhom, said the king, what is the adventure? Sir, she said, I have a\nlady of great worship and renown, and she is besieged with a tyrant, so\nthat she may not out of her castle. And because here are called the\nnoblest knights of the world, I come to you to pray you of succour.\nWhat highteth your lady, and where dwelleth she? and who is he, and\nwhat is his name, that hath besieged her? Sir king, she said, as for my\nlady\u2019s name that shall not ye know for me as at this time, but I let\nyou wit she is a lady of great worship, and of great lands. And as for\nthe tyrant that besiegeth her and destroyeth her lands, he is called\nthe red knight of the red lawns. I know him not, said the king. Sir,\nsaid Sir Gawaine, I know him well, for he is one of the perilousest\nknights of the world: men say that he hath seven men\u2019s strength, and\nfrom him I escaped once full hard with my life. Fair damsel, said the\nking, there be knights here would do their power to rescue your lady,\nbut because ye will not tell her name, nor where she dwelleth,\ntherefore none of my knights that be here now shall go with you by my\nwill. Then must I speak further, said the damsel.\n_How Beaumains desired the battle, and how it was granted to him, and\n how he desired to be made knight of Sir Launcelot._\nWith these words came before the king Beaumains, while the damsel was\nthere, and thus he said: Sir king, God thank you, I have been these\ntwelvemonth in your kitchen, and have had my full sustenance, and now I\nwill ask my two gifts that be behind. Ask upon my peril, said the king.\nSir, this shall be my two gifts. First, that ye will grant me to have\nthis adventure of the damsel, for it belongeth unto me. Thou shalt have\nit, said the king, I grant it thee. Then, sir, this is the other gift,\nthat ye shall bid Launcelot du Lake make me knight, for of him I will\nbe made knight, and else of none. And when I am past, I pray you let\nhim ride after me, and make me knight when I require him. All this\nshall be done, said the king. Fie on thee, said the damsel, shall I\nhave none but one that is your kitchen page. Then was she wroth, and\ntook her horse and departed.\nAnd with that there came one to Beaumains, and told him that his horse\nand armour was come for him, and there was the dwarf come with all\nthing that him needed in the richest manner. Thereat all the court had\nmuch marvel from whence came all that gear. So when he was armed there\nwas none but few so goodly a man as he was. And right so he came into\nthe hall and took his leave of king Arthur and Sir Gawaine and Sir\nLauncelot, and prayed that he would hie after him. And so departed and\nrode after the damsel.\n_How Beaumains departed, and how he gat of Sir Kay a spear and a\n shield, and how he justed and fought with Sir Launcelot._\nBut there went many after to behold how well he was horsed and trapped\nin cloth of gold, but he had neither shield nor spear. Then Sir Kay\nsaid all openly in the hall, I will ride after my boy in the kitchen,\nto wit whether he will know me for his better. Said Sir Launcelot and\nSir Gawaine, Yet abide at home. So Sir Kay made him ready and took his\nhorse and his spear and rode after him. And right as Beaumains overtook\nthe damsel, right so came Sir Kay, and said, Beaumains, what sir know\nye not me? Then he turned his horse and knew it was Sir Kay, that had\ndone him all the despite as ye have heard afore. Yea, said Beaumains, I\nknow you for an ungentle knight of the court, and therefore beware of\nme. Therewith Sir Kay put his spear in the rest, and ran straight upon\nhim, and Beaumains came as fast upon him with his sword in his hand;\nand so he put away his spear with his sword, and with a foin thrust him\nthrough the side, that Sir Kay fell down as he had been dead, and he\nalight down and took Sir Kay\u2019s shield and his spear, and start upon his\nown horse and rode his way. All that saw Sir Launcelot, and so did the\ndamsel. And then he bad his dwarf start upon Sir Kay\u2019s horse, and so he\ndid. By that Sir Launcelot was come. Then he proffered Sir Launcelot to\njust, and either made them ready, and came together so fiercely that\neither bare down other to the earth, and sore were they bruised. Then\nSir Launcelot arose and helped him from his horse. And then Beaumains\nthrew his shield from him, and proffered to fight with Sir Launcelot on\nfoot, and so they rushed together like boars, tracing, racing, and\nfoining, to the mountenance of an hour, and Sir Launcelot felt him so\nbig that he marvelled of his strength, for he fought more like a giant\nthan a knight, and that his fighting was durable and passing perilous.\nFor Sir Launcelot had so much ado with him that he dread himself to be\nshamed, and said, Beaumains, fight not so sore, your quarrel and mine\nis not so great but we may leave off. Truly, that is truth, said\nBeaumains, but it doth me good to feel your might, and yet, my lord, I\nshewed not the utterance.\n_How Beaumains told to Sir Launcelot his name, and how he was dubbed\n knight of Sir Launcelot, and after overtook the damsel._\nWell, said Sir Launcelot, for I promise you by the faith of my body I\nhad as much to do as I might to save myself from you unshamed, and\ntherefore have ye no doubt of none earthly knight. Hope ye so that I\nmay any while stand a proved knight? said Beaumains. Yea, said\nLauncelot, do ye as ye have done, and I shall be your warrant. Then, I\npray you, said Beaumains, give me the order of knighthood. Then must ye\ntell me your name, said Launcelot, and of what kin ye be born. Sir, so\nthat ye will not discover me I shall, said Beaumains. Nay, said Sir\nLauncelot, and that I promise you by the faith of my body, until it be\nopenly known. Then, Sir, he said, my name is Gareth, and brother unto\nSir Gawaine, of father and mother. Ah! Sir, said Launcelot, I am more\ngladder of you than I was, for ever me thought ye should be of great\nblood, and that ye came not to the court neither for meat nor for\ndrink. And then Sir Launcelot gave him the order of knighthood. And\nthen Sir Gareth prayed him for to depart, and let him go. So Sir\nLauncelot departed from him and came to Sir Kay, and made him to be\nborne home upon his shield, and so he was healed hard with the life,\nand all men scorned Sir Kay, and in especial Sir Gawaine and Sir\nLauncelot said it was not his part to rebuke no young man, for full\nlittle knew he of what birth he is come, and for what cause he came to\nthis court. And so we leave off Sir Kay and turn we unto Beaumains.\nWhen he had overtaken the damsel anon she said, What doest thou here?\nthou stinkest all of the kitchen, thy clothes be foul of the grease and\ntallow that thou gainedst in king Arthur\u2019s kitchen; weenest thou, said\nshe, that I allow thee for yonder knight that thou killedst? Nay truly,\nfor thou slewest him unhappily and cowardly, therefore turn again foul\nkitchen page. I know thee well, for Sir Kay named thee Beaumains; what\nart thou but a lubber and a turner of spits, and a ladle washer?\nDamsel, said Beaumains, say to me what ye will, I will not go from you\nwhatsoever ye say, for I have undertaken to king Arthur for to achieve\nyour adventure, and so shall I finish it to the end, or I shall die\ntherefore. Fie on thee, kitchen knave, wilt thou finish mine adventure?\nthou shalt anon be met withall, that thou wouldest not for all the\nbroth that ever thou suppedst once look him in the face. I shall assay,\nsaid Beaumains. So thus as they rode in the wood, there came a man\nflying all that ever he might. Whither wilt thou? said Beaumains. O\nlord, he said, help me, for hereby in a slade are six thieves, that\nhave taken my lord and bound him, so I am afeard lest they will slay\nhim. Bring me thither, said Sir Beaumains. And so they rode together\nuntil they came there as was the knight bound, and then he rode unto\nthem and struck one unto the death, and then another, and at the third\nstroke he slew the third thief: and then the other three fled. And he\nrode after them, and he overtook them, and then those three thieves\nturned again and assailed Beaumains hard, but at the last he slew them,\nand returned and unbound the knight. And the knight thanked him, and\nprayed him to ride with him to his castle there a little beside, and he\nshould worshipfully reward him for his good deeds. Sir, said Beaumains,\nI will no reward have, I was this day made knight of noble Sir\nLauncelot, and therefore I will no reward have, but God reward me. And\nalso I must follow this damsel. And when he came nigh her, she bad him\nride from her, for thou smellest all of the kitchen; weenest thou that\nI have joy of thee? for all this deed thou hast done, is but mishapped\nthee; but thou shalt see a sight that shall make thee turn again, and\nthat lightly. Then the same knight which was rescued of the thieves\nrode after that damsel, and prayed her to lodge with him all that\nnight. And because it was near night the damsel rode with him to his\ncastle, and there they had great cheer. And at supper the knight set\nSir Beaumains afore the damsel. Fie, fie, said she, sir knight, ye are\nuncourteous to set a kitchen page afore me, him beseemeth better to\nstick a swine than to sit afore a damsel of high parentage. Then the\nknight was ashamed at her words, and took him up and set him at a side\nboard, and set himself afore him. And so all that night they had good\ncheer and merry rest.\n_How Sir Beaumains fought and slew two knights at a passage._\nAnd on the morn the damsel and he took their leave and thanked the\nknight, and so departed, and rode on their way until they came to a\ngreat forest. And there was a great river and but one passage, and\nthere were ready two knights on the further side, to let them the\npassage. What sayest thou, said the damsel, wilt thou match yonder\nknights, or turn again? Nay, said Sir Beaumains, I will not turn again\nand they were six more. And therewithal he rushed into the water, and\nin the midst of the water either brake their spears upon other to their\nhands, and then they drew their swords and smote eagerly at other. And\nat the last Sir Beaumains smote the other upon the helm that his head\nstonied, and therewithal he fell down in the water, and there was he\ndrowned. And then he spurred his horse upon the land, where the other\nknight fell upon him and brake his spear, and so they drew their swords\nand fought long together. At the last Sir Beaumains clave his helm and\nhis head down to the shoulders: and so he rode unto the damsel, and\nbade her ride forth on her way. Alas, she said, that ever a kitchen\npage should have that fortune to destroy such two doughty knights; thou\nweenest thou hast done doughtily; that is not so, for the first knight\nhis horse stumbled, and there he was drowned in the water, and never it\nwas by thy force nor by thy might. And the last knight by mishap thou\ncamest behind him and mishappily thou slewest him. Damsel, said\nBeaumains, ye may say what ye will, but with whomsoever I have ado\nwithall I trust to God to serve him or he depart, and therefore I reck\nnot what ye say, so that I may win your lady. Fie, fie, foul kitchen\nknave, thou shalt see knights that shall abate thy boast. Fair damsel,\ngive me goodly language, and then my care is past, for what knights\nsoever they be I care not, nor I doubt them not. Also, said she, I say\nit for thine avail, yet mayest thou turn again with thy worship, for\nand thou follow me thou art but slain, for I see all that ever thou\ndost is but by misadventure, and not by prowess of thy hands. Well,\ndamsel, ye may say what ye will, but wheresoever ye go I will follow\nyou. So this Beaumains rode with that lady till even-song time, and\never she chid him, and would not rest. And then they came to a black\nlawn, and there was a black hawthorn, and thereon hung a black banner,\nand on the other side there hung a black shield, and by it stood a\nblack spear great and long, and a great black horse covered with silk,\nand a black stone fast by.\n_How Sir Beaumains fought with the knight of the black lawns, and\n fought with him till he fell down and died._\nThere sat a knight all armed in black harness, and his name was the\nknight of the black lawn. Then the damsel, when she saw that knight,\nshe bade him flee down the valley, for his horse was not saddled.\nGramercy, said Beaumains, for always ye would have me a coward. With\nthat the black knight, when she came nigh him, spake and said, Damsel,\nhave ye brought this knight of king Arthur to be your champion? Nay,\nfair knight, said she, this is but a kitchen knave, that was fed in\nking Arthur\u2019s kitchen for alms. Why cometh he, said the knight, in such\narray? it is shame that he beareth you company. Sir, I cannot be\ndelivered of him, said she, for with me he rideth maugre mine head;\nwould that ye should put him from me, or else to slay him and ye may,\nfor he is an unhappy knave, and unhappily he hath done this day;\nthrough mishap I saw him slay two knights at the passage of the water,\nand other deeds he did before right marvellous, and through\nunhappiness. That marvelleth me, said the black knight, that any man\nthat is of worship will have ado with him. They know him not, said the\ndamsel, and because he rideth with me they think he is some man of\nworship born. That may be, said the black knight, how be it as ye say\nthat he be no man of worship, he is a full likely person, and full like\nto be a strong man; but thus much shall I grant you, said the black\nknight, I shall put him down upon one foot, and his horse and his\nharness he shall leave with me, for it were shame to me to do him any\nmore harm. When Sir Beaumains heard him say thus, he said, Sir knight,\nthou art full liberal of my horse and my harness. I let thee wit it\ncost thee nought, and whether it liketh thee or not this lawn will I\npass, maugre thine head, and horse nor harness gettest thou none of me,\nbut if thou win them with thy hands; and therefore let see what thou\ncanst do. Sayest thou that, said the black knight, now yield thy lady\nfrom thee, for it beseemeth never a kitchen page to ride with such a\nlady. Thou liest, said Beaumains, I am a gentleman born, and of more\nhigh lineage than thou, and that will I prove on thy body. Then in\ngreat wrath they departed with their horses, and came together as it\nhad been the thunder; and the black knight\u2019s spear brake, and Beaumains\nthrust him through both his sides, and therewith his spear brake, and\nthe truncheon left still in his side. But nevertheless the black knight\ndrew his sword and smote many eager strokes and of great might, and\nhurt Beaumains full sore. But at the last the black knight within an\nhour and a half he fell down off his horse in a swoon, and there he\ndied. And then Beaumains saw him so well horsed and armed, then he\nalight down, and armed him in his armour, and so took his horse, and\nrode after the damsel. When she saw him come nigh, she said, Away,\nkitchen knave, out of the wind, for the smell of thy foul clothes\ngrieveth me. Alas, she said, that ever such a knave as thou art should\nby mishap slay so good a knight as thou hast done, but all this is\nthine unhappiness. But hereby is one shall pay thee all thy payment,\nand therefore yet I counsel thee, flee. It may happen me, said\nBeaumains, to be beaten or slain, but I warn you, fair damsel, I will\nnot flee away nor leave your company for all that ye can say, for ever\nye say that they will kill me or beat me, but how soever it happeneth I\nescape, and they lie on the ground. And therefore it were as good for\nyou to hold you still, thus all day rebuking me, for away will I not\ntill I see the uttermost of this journey, or else I will be slain or\ntruly beaten; therefore ride on your way, for follow you I will\nwhatsoever happen.\n_How the brother of the knight that was slain met with Beaumains, and\n fought with Beaumains till he was yielden._\nThus as they rode together, they saw a knight come driving by them all\nin green, both his horse and his harness; and when he came nigh the\ndamsel he asked her, Is that my brother the black knight that ye have\nbrought with you? Nay, nay, said she, this unhappy kitchen knave hath\nslain your brother through unhappiness. Alas, said the green knight,\nthat is great pity that so noble a knight as he was should so unhappily\nbe slain, and namely of a knave\u2019s hand, as ye say that he is. Ah!\ntraitor, said the green knight, thou shalt die for slaying of my\nbrother, he was a full noble knight, and his name was Sir Percard. I\ndefy thee, said Beaumains, for I let thee wit I slew him knightly, and\nnot shamefully. Therewithall the green knight rode unto an horn that\nwas green, and it hung upon a thorn, and there he blew three deadly\nnotes, and there came two damsels and armed him lightly. And then took\nhe a great horse, and a green shield and a green spear. And then they\nran together with all their mights, and brake their spears unto their\nhands. And then they drew their swords, and gave many sad strokes, and\neither of them wounded other full ill. And at the last at an overthwart\nBeaumains\u2019 horse struck the green knight\u2019s horse upon the side, he fell\nto the earth. And then the green knight avoided his horse lightly, and\ndressed him upon foot. That saw Beaumains, and therewithal he alight,\nand they rushed together like two mighty champions a long while, and\nsore they bled both. With that came the damsel and said, My lord the\ngreen knight, why for shame stand ye so long fighting with the kitchen\nknave? Alas, it is shame that ever ye were made knight, to see such a\nlad match such a knight, as the weed overgrew the corn. Therewith the\ngreen knight was ashamed, and therewithal he gave a great stroke of\nmight, and clave his shield through. When Beaumains saw his shield\ncloven asunder he was a little ashamed of that stroke, and of her\nlanguage; and then he gave him such a buffet upon the helm that he fell\non his knees: and so suddenly Beaumains pulled him upon the ground\ngroveling. And then the green knight cried him mercy, and yielded him\nunto Sir Beaumains, and prayed him to slay him not. All is in vain,\nsaid Beaumains, for thou shalt die, but if this damsel that came with\nme pray me to save thy life. And therewithal he unlaced his helm, like\nas he would slay him. Fie upon thee, false kitchen page, I will never\npray thee to save his life, for I never will be so much in thy danger.\nThen shall he die, said Beaumains. Not so hardy thou foul knave, said\nthe damsel, that thou slay him. Alas, said the green knight, suffer me\nnot to die, for a fair word may save me. Fair knight, said the green\nknight, save my life, and I will forgive thee the death of my brother,\nand for ever to become thy man, and thirty knights that hold of me for\never shall do you service. In the devil\u2019s name, said the damsel, that\nsuch a foul kitchen knave should have thee and thirty knights\u2019 service.\nSir knight, said Beaumains, all this availeth thee not, but if my\ndamsel speak with me for thy life. And therewithal he made a semblant\nto slay him. Let be, said the damsel, thou foul knave, slay him not,\nfor and thou do thou shalt repent it. Damsel, said Beaumains, your\ncharge is to me a pleasure, and at your commandment his life shall be\nsaved, and else not. Then he said, Sir knight with the green arms, I\nrelease thee quit at this damsel\u2019s request, for I will not make her\nwroth; I will fulfill all that she chargeth me. And then the green\nknight kneeled down, and did him homage with his sword. Then said the\ndamsel, Me repenteth, green knight, of your damage, and of your\nbrother\u2019s death the black knight, for of your help I had great need,\nfor I dread me sore to pass this forest. Nay, dread you not, said the\ngreen knight, for ye shall lodge with me this night, and to morn I\nshall help you through this forest. So they took their horses and rode\nto his manor, which was fast there beside.\n_How the damsel ever rebuked Sir Beaumains, and would not suffer him to\n sit at her table, but called him kitchen boy._\nAnd ever she rebuked Beaumains, and would not suffer him to sit at her\ntable, but as the green knight took him and sat him at a side table.\nMarvel me thinketh, said the green knight to the damsel, why ye rebuke\nthis noble knight as ye do, for I warn you, damsel, he is a full noble\nknight, and I know no knight is able to match him, therefore ye do\ngreat wrong to rebuke him, for he shall do you right good service, for\nwhatsoever he maketh himself ye shall prove at the end that he is come\nof a noble blood, and of king\u2019s lineage. Fie, fie, said the damsel, it\nis shame for you to say of him such worship. Truly, said the green\nknight, it were shame for me to say of him any disworship, for he hath\nproved himself a better knight than I am, yet have I met with many\nknights in my days, and never or this time have I found no knight his\nmatch. And so that night they went unto rest, and all that night the\ngreen knight commanded thirty knights privily to watch Beaumains, for\nto keep him from all treason. And so on the morn they all arose, and\nheard their mass and brake their fast, and then they took their horses\nand rode on their way, and the green knight conveyed them through the\nforest, and there the green knight said, My lord Beaumains, I and these\nthirty knights shall be alway at your summons, both early and late, at\nyour calling, and where that ever ye will send us. It is well said,\nsaid Beaumains; when that I call upon you ye must yield you unto king\nArthur and all your knights. If that ye so command us, we shall be\nready at all times, said the green knight. Fie, fie upon thee, said the\ndamsel, that any good knights should be obedient unto a kitchen knave.\nSo then departed the green knight and the damsel. And then she said\nunto Beaumains, Why followest thou me thou kitchen boy, cast away thy\nshield and thy spear and flee away, yet I counsel thee betimes or thou\nshalt say right soon, Alas! For were thou as wight as ever was Wade, or\nLauncelot, Tristram, or the good knight Sir Lamorake, thou shalt not\npass a pass here, that is called the pass perilous. Damsel, said\nBeaumains, who is afeard let him flee, for it were shame to turn again\nsince I have ridden so long with you. Well, said the damsel, ye shall\nsoon, whether ye will or not.\n_How the third brother, called the red knight, justed and fought\n against Beaumains, and how Beaumains overcame him._\nSo within a while they saw a tower as white as any snow, well matchcold\nall about, and double diked. And over the tower-gate there hung a fifty\nshields of divers colours; and under that tower there was a fair\nmeadow. And therein were many knights and squires to behold scaffolds\nand pavilions, for there upon the morn should be a great tournament;\nand the lord of the tower was in his castle, and looked out at a\nwindow, and saw a damsel, a dwarf, and a knight armed at all points. By\nmy faith, said the lord, with that knight will I just, for I see that\nhe is a knight errant. And so he armed him, and horsed him hastily. And\nwhen he was on horseback with his shield and his spear, it was all red,\nboth his horse and his harness, and all that to him belonged. And when\nthat he came nigh him he wend it had been his brother the black knight.\nAnd then he cried aloud, Brother what do ye in these marches? Nay, nay,\nsaid the damsel, it is not he; this is but a kitchen knave, that was\nbrought up for alms in king Arthur\u2019s court. Nevertheless, said the red\nknight, I will speak with him or he depart. Ah, said the damsel, this\nknave hath killed thy brother, and Sir Kay named him Beaumains, and\nthis horse and harness was thy brother\u2019s the black knight. Also I saw\nthy brother the green knight overcome of his hands. Now may ye be\nrevenged upon him, for I may never be quit of him.\nWith this either knight departed in sunder, and they came together with\nall their might, and either of their horses fell to the earth, and they\navoided their horses, and put their shields afore them, and drew their\nswords, and either gave other sad strokes, now here, now there, racing,\ntracing, foining, and hurling like two boars, the space of two hours.\nAnd then she cried on high to the red knight, Alas, thou noble red\nknight, think what worship hath followed thee, let never a kitchen\nknave endure thee so long as he doth. Then the red knight waxed wroth,\nand doubled his strokes, and hurt Beaumains wonderly sore, that the\nblood ran down to the ground, that it was wonder to see that strong\nbattle. Yet at the last Sir Beaumains strake him to the earth, and as\nhe would have slain the red knight he cried mercy, saying, Noble knight\nslay me not, and I shall yield me to thee with fifty knights with me\nthat be at my commandment. And I forgive thee all the despite that thou\nhast done to me, and the death of my brother the black knight. All this\navaileth not, said Sir Beaumains, but if my damsel pray me to save thy\nlife. And therewith he made semblant to strike off his head. Let be,\nthou Beaumains, slay him not, for he is a noble knight, and not so\nhardy upon thine head but thou save him. Then Beaumains bad the red\nknight stand up, and thank the damsel now of thy life. Then the red\nknight prayed him to see his castle, and to be there all night. So the\ndamsel then granted him, and there they had merry cheer. But always the\ndamsel spake many foul words unto Beaumains, whereof the red knight had\ngreat marvel, and all that night the red knight made threescore knights\nto watch Beaumains, that he should have no shame nor villainy. And upon\nthe morn they heard mass, and dined, and the red knight came before\nBeaumains with his threescore knights, and there he proffered him his\nhomage and fealty at all times, he and his knights to do him service. I\nthank you, said Beaumains, but this ye shall grant me when I call upon\nyou, to come afore my lord king Arthur and yield you unto him to be his\nknights. Sir, said the red knight, I will be ready and my fellowship at\nyour summons. So Sir Beaumains departed and the damsel, and ever she\nrode chiding him in the foullest manner.\n_How Sir Beaumains suffered great rebukes of the damsel, and he\n suffered it patiently._\nDamsel, said Beaumains, ye are uncourteous so to rebuke me as ye do,\nfor me seemeth I have done you good service, and ever ye threaten me I\nshall be beaten with knights that we meet, but ever for all your boast\nthey lie in the dust or in the mire, and therefore I pray you rebuke me\nno more: and when ye see me beaten or yielden as recreant, then may ye\nbid me go from you shamefully, but first I let you wit I will not\ndepart from you, for I were worse than a fool and I would depart from\nyou all the while that I win worship. Well, said she, right soon there\nshall meet a knight shall pay thee all thy wages, for he is the most\nman of worship of the world, except king Arthur. I will well, said\nBeaumains; the more he is of worship the more shall be my worship to\nhave ado with him. Then anon they were ware where was before them a\ncity rich and fair. And betwixt them and the city a mile and a half,\nthere was a fair meadow that seemed new mown, and therein were many\npavilions fair to behold. Lo, said the damsel, yonder is a lord that\nowneth yonder city, and his custom is when the weather is fair to lie\nin this meadow to just and tourney; and ever there be about him five\nhundred knights and gentlemen of arms, and there be all manner of games\nthat any gentleman can devise. That goodly lord, said Beaumains, would\nI fain see. Thou shalt see him time enough, said the damsel. And so as\nshe rode near she espied the pavilion where he was. Lo, said she, seest\nthou yonder pavilion, that is all of the colour of Inde, and all manner\nof thing that there is about, men and women, and horses trapped,\nshields and spears, all of the colour of Inde, and his name is Sir\nPersant of Inde, the most lordliest knight that ever thou lookedest on.\nIt may well be, said Beaumains, but be he never so stout a knight, in\nthis field I shall abide till that I see him under his shield. Ah fool,\nsaid she, thou were better flee betimes. Why, said Beaumains, and he be\nsuch a knight as ye make him, he will not set upon me with all his men,\nor with his five hundred knights. For and there come no more but one at\nonce, I shall him not fail whilst my life lasteth. Fie, fie, said the\ndamsel, that ever such a dirty knave should blow such a boast. Damsel,\nhe said, ye are to blame so to rebuke me, for I had lever do five\nbattles than so to be rebuked; let him come, and then let him do his\nworst. Sir, she said, I marvel what thou art, and of what kin thou art\ncome: boldly thou speakest, and boldly thou hast done, that have I\nseen: therefore I pray thee save thyself and thou mayest, for thy horse\nand thou have had great travail, and I dread we dwell over long from\nthe siege, for it is but hence seven mile, and all perilous passages we\nare past, save all only this passage, and here I dread me sore lest ye\nshall catch some hurt, therefore I would ye were hence, that ye were\nnot bruised nor hurt with this strong knight. But I let you wit this\nSir Persant of Inde is nothing of might nor strength unto the knight\nthat laid the siege about my lady. As for that, said Sir Beaumains, be\nit as it may; for since I am come so nigh this knight I will prove his\nmight or I depart from him, and else I shall be shamed and I now\nwithdraw me from him. And therefore, damsel, have ye no doubt by the\ngrace of God I shall so deal with this knight, that within two hours\nafter noon I shall deliver him, and then shall we come to the siege by\nday light. Oh mercy, marvel have I, said the damsel, what manner a man\nye be, for it may never be otherwise but that ye be come of a noble\nblood, for so foul and shamefully did never woman rule a knight as I\nhave done you, and ever courteously ye have suffered me, and that came\nnever but of a gentle blood.\nDamsel, said Beaumains, a knight may little do that may not suffer a\ndamsel; for whatsoever ye said unto me I took none heed to your words,\nfor the more ye said the more ye angered me, and my wrath I wreaked\nupon them that I had ado withal. And therefore all the missaying that\nye missayed me furthered me in my battle, and caused me to think to\nshew and prove myself at the end what I was; for peradventure though I\nhad meat in king Arthur\u2019s kitchen, yet I might have had meat enough in\nother places; but all that I did it for to prove and to assay my\nfriends, and that shall be known another day, and whether that I be a\ngentleman born or none, I let you wit, fair damsel, I have done you\ngentleman\u2019s service, and peradventure better service yet will I do or I\ndepart from you. Alas, she said, fair Beaumains, forgive me all that I\nhave missaid or done against thee. With all my heart, said he, I\nforgive it you, for ye did nothing but as ye should do, for all your\nevil words pleased me; and damsel, said Beaumains, since it liketh you\nto say thus fair to me, wit ye well it gladdeth mine heart greatly, and\nnow me seemeth there is no knight living but I am able enough for him.\n_How Sir Beaumains fought with Sir Persant of Inde, and made him to be\n yielden._\nWith this Sir Persant of Inde had espied them as they hoved in the\nfield, and knightly he sent to them whether he came in war or in peace.\nSay to thy lord, said Beaumains, I take no force, but whether as him\nlist himself. So the messenger went again unto Sir Persant, and told\nhim all his answer. Well, then will I have ado with him to the\nutterance. And so he purveyed him and rode against him. And Beaumains\nsaw him and made him ready, and there they met with all that ever their\nhorses might run, and brake their spears either in three pieces, and\ntheir horses rushed so together that both their horses fell dead to the\nearth, and lightly they avoided their horses, and put their shields\nafore them, and drew their swords, and gave many great strokes, that\nsometime they hurtled together that they fell groveling on the ground.\nThus they fought two hours and more, that their shields and their\nhauberks were all forhewn, and in many places they were wounded. So at\nthe last Sir Beaumains smote him through the side of the body, and then\nhe drew him back here and there, and knightly maintained his battle\nlong time. And at the last, though him loth were, Beaumains smote Sir\nPersant above upon the helm that he fell groveling to the earth, and\nthen he lept upon him overthwart, and unlaced his helm to have slain\nhim. Then Sir Persant yielded him and asked him mercy. With that came\nthe damsel, and prayed to save his life. I will well, for it were pity\nthat this noble knight should die. Gramercy, said Persant, gentle\nknight and damsel; for certainly now I wot well it was ye that slew my\nbrother the black knight, at the black thorn; he was a full noble\nknight, his name was Sir Percard. Also, I am sure that ye are he that\nwon mine other brother the green knight, his name was Sir Pertolepe.\nAlso, ye won my brother the red knight Sir Perimones. And now since ye\nhave won these, this shall I do for to please you; ye shall have homage\nand fealty of me, and an hundred knights, to be always at your\ncommandment, to go and ride where ye will command us. And so they went\nunto Sir Persant\u2019s pavilion, and drank the wine and eat spices. And\nafterward Sir Persant made him to rest upon a bed until supper time,\nand after supper to bed again. And so we leave him there till on the\nmorn.\n_Of the goodly communication between Sir Persant and Beaumains, and how\n he told him that his name was Sir Gareth._\nAnd so on the morn the damsel and Sir Beaumains heard mass and brake\ntheir fast, and so took their leave. Fair damsel, said Persant,\nwhitherward are ye away leading this knight? Sir, she said, this knight\nis going to the siege that besiegeth my sister in the castle dangerous.\nAh, ah, said Persant, that is the knight of the red lawn, the which is\nthe most perilous knight that I know now living, and a man that is\nwithout mercy, and men say that he hath seven men\u2019s strength. God save\nyou, said he to Beaumains, from that knight, for he doth great wrong to\nthat lady, and that is great pity, for she is one of the fairest ladies\nof the world, and me seemeth that your damsel is her sister. Is not\nyour name Linet? said he. Yea, sir, said she, and my lady my sister\u2019s\nname is dame Liones. Now shall I tell you, said Sir Persant, this red\nknight of the red lawn hath lain long at the siege, well nigh this two\nyears, and many times he might have had her and he had would, but he\nprolongeth the time to this intent for to have Sir Launcelot du Lake to\ndo battle with him, or Sir Tristram, or Sir Lamorak de Galis, or Sir\nGawaine: and this is his tarrying so long at the siege. Now, my lord\nSir Persant of Inde, said the damsel Linet, I require you that ye will\nmake this gentleman knight, or ever he fight with the red knight. I\nwill with all my heart, said Sir Persant, and it please him to take the\norder of knighthood of so simple a man as I am. Sir, said Beaumains, I\nthank you for your good will, for I am better sped, for certainly the\nnoble knight Sir Launcelot made me knight. Ah, said Persant, of a more\nrenowned knight might ye not be made knight. For of all knights he may\nbe called chief of knighthood: and so all the world saith that betwixt\nthree knights is parted clearly knighthood that is Launcelot du Lake,\nSir Tristram de Liones, and Sir Lamorak de Galis: these bear now the\nrenown. There be many other knights, as Sir Palamides the Saracen, and\nSir Sasere his brother; also Sir Bleoberis, and Sir Blamore de Ganis\nhis brother; also Sir Bors de Ganis, and Sir Ector de Maris, and Sir\nPercivale de Galis; these and many more be noble knights, but there be\nnone that pass the three above said; therefore God speed you well, said\nSir Persant, for and ye may match the red knight ye shall be called the\nfourth of the world. Sir, said Beaumains, I would fain be of good fame\nand of knighthood. And I let you wit I came of good men, for I dare say\nmy father was a noble man, and so that ye will keep it in close, and\nthis damsel, I will tell you of what kin I am. We will not discover\nyou, said they both, till ye command us, by the faith we owe unto God.\nTruly then, said he, my name is Gareth of Orkney, and king Lot was my\nfather, and my mother is king Arthur\u2019s sister; her name is dame\nMorgawse, and Sir Gawaine is my brother, and Sir Agravaine, and Sir\nGaheris, and I am the youngest of them all. And yet wot not king Arthur\nnor Sir Gawaine what I am.\n_How the lady that was besieged had word from her sister how she had\n brought a knight to fight for her, and what battles he had achieved._\nSo the book saith that the lady that was besieged had word of her\nsister\u2019s coming by the dwarf, and a knight with her, and how he had\npassed all the perilous passages. What manner a man is he? said the\nlady. He is a noble knight, truly, madam, said the dwarf, and but a\nyoung man, but he is as likely a man as ever ye saw any. What is he,\nsaid the lady, and of what kin is he come, and of whom was he made\nknight? Madam, said the dwarf, he is the king\u2019s son of Orkney, but his\nname I will not tell you as at this time; but wit ye well, of Sir\nLauncelot was he made knight, for of none other would he be made\nknight, and Sir Kay named him Beaumains. How escaped he, said the lady,\nfrom the brethren of Persant? Madam, he said, as a noble knight should.\nFirst, he slew two brethren at a passage of a water. Ah! said she, they\nwere good knights, but they were murderers, the one hight Gherard de\nBreusse, and that other knight hight Sir Arnold de Breusse. Then,\nmadam, he recountered with the black knight, and slew him in plain\nbattle, and so he took his horse and his armour and fought with the\ngreen knight, and wan him in plain battle, and in likewise he served\nthe red knight, and after in the same wise he served the blue knight,\nand wan him in plain battle. Then, said the lady, he hath overcome Sir\nPersant of Inde, one of the noblest knights of the world. And the dwarf\nsaid, He hath won all the four brethren, and slain the black knight.\nAnd yet he did more tofore: he overthrew Sir Kay, and left him nigh\ndead upon the ground; also he did a great battle with Sir Launcelot,\nand there they departed on even hands: and then Sir Launcelot made him\nknight. Dwarf, said the lady, I am glad of these tidings, therefore go\nthou in an hermitage of mine here by, and there shalt thou bear with\nthee of my wine in two flaggons of silver, they are of two gallons, and\nalso two cast of bread, with fat venison baked, and dainty fowls; and a\ncup of gold here I deliver thee, that is rich and precious, and bear\nall this to mine hermitage, and put it in the hermit\u2019s hands. And then\ngo thou unto my sister and greet her well, and command me unto that\ngentle knight, and pray him to eat and to drink, and make him strong;\nand say ye him I thank him of his courtesy and goodness, that he would\ntake upon him such labour for me that never did him bounty nor\ncourtesy. Also pray him that he be of good heart and good courage, for\nhe shall meet with a full noble knight, but he is neither of bounty,\ncourtesy, nor gentleness, for he attendeth unto no thing but to murder,\nand that is the cause I cannot praise him nor love him. So this dwarf\ndeparted and came to Sir Persant, where he found the damsel Linet and\nSir Beaumains, and there he told them all as ye have heard, and then\nthey took their leave; but Sir Persant took an ambling hackney and\nconveyed them on their ways and then beleft them to God. And so within\na little while they came to that hermitage, and there they drank the\nwine, and eat the venison and the fowls baken.\nAnd so when they had repasted them well, the dwarf returned again with\nhis vessel unto the castle again, and there met with him the red knight\nof the red lawns, and asked him from whence that he came, and where he\nhad been. Sir, said the dwarf, I have been with my lady\u2019s sister of\nthis castle, and she hath been at king Arthur\u2019s court, and brought a\nknight with her. Then I account her travail but lost. For though she\nhad brought with her Sir Launcelot, Sir Tristram, Sir Lamorak, or Sir\nGawaine, I would think myself good enough for them all. It may well be,\nsaid the dwarf, but this knight hath passed all the perilous passages,\nand hath slain the black knight, and other two more, and won the green\nknight, the red knight, and the blue knight. Then is he one of these\nfour that I have afore rehearsed. He is none of those, said the dwarf,\nbut he is a king\u2019s son. What is his name? said the red knight of the\nred lawn. That will I not tell you, said the dwarf, but Sir Kay upon\nscorn named him Beaumains. I care not, said the knight, what knight\nsoever he be, for I shall soon deliver him; and if I ever match him he\nshall have a shameful death, as many other have had. That were pity,\nsaid the dwarf, and it is marvel that ye make such shameful war upon\nnoble knights.\n_How the damsel and Beaumains came to the siege, and came to a sycamore\n tree, and there Beaumains blew a horn, and then the knight of the red\n lawns came to fight with him._\nNow leave we the knight and the dwarf, and speak we of Beaumains, that\nall night lay in the hermitage, and upon the morn he and the damsel\nLinet heard their mass, and brake their fast. And then they took their\nhorses and rode throughout a fair forest, and then they came to a\nplain, and saw where were many pavilions and tents, and a fair castle,\nand there was much smoke and great noise. And when they came near the\nsiege Sir Beaumains espied upon great trees, as he rode, how there hung\nfull goodly armed knights by the neck, and their shields about their\nnecks with their swords, and gilt spurs upon their heels, and so there\nhung nigh a forty knights shamefully with full rich arms. Then Sir\nBeaumains abated his countenance, and said, What meaneth this? Fair\nSir, said the damsel, abate not your cheer for all this sight, for ye\nmust encourage yourself, or else ye be all shent, for all these knights\ncame hither to this siege to rescue my sister dame Liones, and when the\nred knight of the red lawn had overcome them he put them to this\nshameful death, without mercy and pity. And in the same wise he will\nserve you but if ye quit you better. Now Jesu defend me, said Sir\nBeaumains, from such a villainous death and disgrace of arms, for\nrather than I should so be farewithal, I would rather be slain manly in\nplain battle. So were ye better, said the damsel; for trust not in him\nis no courtesy, but all goeth to the death or shameful murder; and that\nis pity, for he is a full likely man, well made of body, and a full\nnoble knight of prowess, and a lord of great lands and possessions.\nTruly, said Beaumains, he may well be a good knight, but he useth\nshameful customs, and it is marvel that he endureth so long, that none\nof the noble knights of my lord Arthur have not dealt with him. And\nthen they rode to the dikes, and saw them double diked with full\nwarlike walls, and there were lodged many great lords nigh the walls,\nand there was great noise of minstrelsy, and the sea betid upon the one\nside of the walls, where were many ships and mariners\u2019 noise, with\n\u2018hale and how.\u2019 And also, there was fast by a sycamore tree, and there\nhung a horn, the greatest that ever they saw, of an elephant\u2019s bone,\nand this knight of the red lawn had hanged it up there, that if there\ncame any errant knight he must blow that horn, and then will he make\nhim ready, and come to him to do battle. But Sir, I pray you, said the\ndamsel Linet, blow ye not the horn till it be high noon, for now it is\nabout prime, and now encreaseth his might, that, as men say, he hath\nseven men\u2019s strength. Ah, fie for shame, fair damsel, say ye never so\nmore to me, for, and he were as good a knight as ever was, I shall\nnever fail him in his most might, for either I will win worship\nworshipfully, or die knightly in the field. And therewith he spurred\nhis horse straight to the sycamore tree, and blew so the horn eagerly\nthat all the siege and the castle rang thereof. And then there lept out\nknights out of their tents and pavilions, and they within the castle\nlooked over the walls and out at windows. Then the red knight of the\nred lawns armed him hastily, and two barons set on his spurs upon his\nheels, and all was blood-red, his armour, spear, and shield. And an\nearl buckled his helm upon his head, and then they brought him a red\nspear and a red steed, and so he rode into a little vale under the\ncastle, that all that were in the castle and at the siege might behold\nthe battle.\n_How the two knights met together, and of their talking, and how they\n began their battle._\nSir, said the damsel Linet unto Sir Beaumains, look ye be glad and\nlight, for yonder is your deadly enemy, and at yonder window is my lady\nmy sister, dame Liones. Where? said Beaumains. Yonder, said the damsel,\nand pointed with her finger. That is truth, said Beaumains. She\nbeseemeth afar the fairest lady that ever I looked upon, and truly, he\nsaid, I ask no better quarrel than now for to do battle, for truly she\nshall be my lady, and for her I will fight. And ever he looked up to\nthe window with glad countenance. And the lady Liones made courtesy to\nhim down to the earth, with holding up both their hands. With that the\nred knight of the red lawns called to Sir Beaumains, Leave, sir knight,\nthy looking, and behold me, I counsel thee, for I warn thee well she is\nmy lady, and for her I have done many strong battles. If thou have so\ndone, said Beaumains, me seemeth it was but waste labour, for she\nloveth none of thy fellowship, and thou to love that loveth not thee,\nis but great folly. For and I understood that she were not glad of my\ncoming I would be advised or I did battle for her. But I understand by\nthe besieging of this castle, she may forbear thy fellowship. And\ntherefore wit thou well, thou red knight of the red lawns, I love her,\nand will rescue her, or else to die. Sayest thou that, said the red\nknight, me seemeth thou ought of reason to beware by yonder knights\nthat thou sawest hang upon yonder trees. Fie for shame, said Beaumains,\nthat ever thou shouldest say or do so evil, for in that thou shamest\nthyself and knighthood, and thou mayest be sure there will no lady love\nthee that knoweth thy wicked customs. And now thou weenest that the\nsight of these hanged knights should fear me. Nay truly, not so, that\nshameful sight causeth me to have courage and hardiness against thee,\nmore than I would have had against thee and thou were a well-ruled\nknight. Make thee ready, said the red knight of the red lawns, and talk\nno longer with me. Then Sir Beaumains bad the damsel go from him, and\nthen they put their spears in their rests, and came together with all\ntheir might that they had both, and either smote other in the midst of\ntheir shields, that the breastplates, horsegirths, and cruppers brast,\nand fell to the earth both, and the reins of their bridles in their\nhands, and so they lay a great while sore astonied; and all they that\nwere in the castle and in the siege wend their necks had been broken,\nand then many a stranger and other said the strange knight was a big\nman and a noble juster, for or now we saw never no knight match the red\nknight of the red lawns: thus they said, both within the castle and\nwithout. Then lightly they avoided their horses, and put their shields\nafore them, and drew their swords, and ran together like two fierce\nlions, and either gave other such buffets upon their helms that they\nreeled backward both two strides, and then they recovered both, and\nhewed great pieces of their harness and their shields, that a great\npart fell into the fields.\n_How after long fighting Beaumains overcame the knight and would have\n slain him, but at the request of the lords he saved his life, and\n made him to yield him to the lady._\nAnd then thus they fought till it was past noon and never would stint\ntill at last they lacked wind both, and then they stood wagging and\nscattering, panting, blowing and bleeding, that all that beheld them\nfor the most part wept for pity. So when they had rested them a while\nthey went to battle again, tracing, racing, foining, as two boars. And\nat sometime they took their run as it had been two rams, and hurtled\ntogether that sometime they fell groveling to the earth: and at\nsometime they were so amazed that either took other\u2019s sword in stead of\nhis own.\nThus they endured till even-song time, that there was none that beheld\nthem might know whether was like to win the battle; and their armour\nwas so far hewn that men might see their naked sides, and in other\nplaces they were naked, but ever the naked places they did defend. And\nthe red knight was a wily knight of war, and his wily fighting taught\nSir Beaumains to be wise; but he abought it full sore ere he did espy\nhis fighting. And thus by assent of them both, they granted either\nother to rest; and so they set them down upon two mole-hills there\nbeside the fighting place, and either of them unlaced his helm and took\nthe cold wind, for either of their pages was fast by them, to come when\nthey called to unlace their harness and to set them on again at their\ncommandment. And then when Sir Beaumains\u2019 helm was off he looked by to\nthe window, and there he saw the fair lady dame Liones; and she made\nhim such countenance that his heart waxed light and jolly; and\ntherewith he bade the red knight of the red lawns make him ready, and\nlet us do the battle to the utterance. I will well, said the knight.\nAnd then they laced up their helms, and their pages avoided, and they\nstept together and fought freshly. But the red knight of the red lawns\nawaited him, and at an overthwart smote him within the hand, that his\nsword fell out of his hand: and yet he gave him another buffet on the\nhelm that he fell groveling to the earth, and the red knight fell over\nhim for to hold him down. Then cried the maiden Linet on high, O Sir\nBeaumains, where is thy courage become! Alas, my lady my sister\nbeholdeth thee, and she sobbeth and weepeth, that maketh mine heart\nheavy. When Sir Beaumains heard her say so, he started up with a great\nmight and gat him upon his feet, and lightly he lept to his sword and\ngriped it in his hand, and doubled his pace unto the red knight, and\nthere they fought a new battle together. But Sir Beaumains then doubled\nhis strokes, and smote so thick that he smote the sword out of his\nhand, and then he smote him upon the helm that he fell to the earth,\nand Sir Beaumains fell upon him, and unlaced his helm to have slain\nhim; and then he yielded him and asked mercy, and said with a loud\nvoice, O noble knight I yield me to thy mercy. Then Sir Beaumains\nbethought him upon the knights that he had made to be hanged\nshamefully, and then he said, I may not with my worship save thy life,\nfor the shameful deaths thou hast caused many full good knights to die.\nSir, said the red knight of the red lawns, hold your hand and ye shall\nknow the causes why I put them to so shameful a death. Say on, said Sir\nBeaumains. Sir, I loved once a lady, a fair damsel, and she had her\nbrother slain, and she said it was Sir Launcelot du Lake, or else Sir\nGawaine, and she prayed me as that I loved her heartily that I would\nmake her a promise by the faith of my knighthood, for to labour daily\nin arms until I met with one of them, and all that I might overcome I\nshould put them unto a villainous death; and this is the cause that I\nhave put all these knights to death, and so I ensured her to do all the\nvillainy unto king Arthur\u2019s knights, and that I should take vengeance\nupon all these knights. And, Sir, now I will thee tell that every day\nmy strength encreaseth till noon, and all this time have I seven men\u2019s\nstrength.\n_How the knight yielded him, and how Beaumains made him to go unto king\n Arthur\u2019s court, and to cry Sir Launcelot mercy._\nThen came there many earls, and barons, and noble knights, and prayed\nthat knight to save his life, and take him to your prisoner: and all\nthey fell upon their knees and prayed him of mercy, and that he would\nsave his life, and, Sir, they all said, it were fairer of him to take\nhomage and fealty, and let him hold his lands of you, than for to slay\nhim: by his death ye shall have none advantage, and his misdeeds that\nbe done may not be undone; and therefore he shall make amends to all\nparties, and we all will become your men, and do you homage and fealty.\nFair lords, said Beaumains, wit you well I am full loth to slay this\nknight, nevertheless he hath done passing ill and shamefully. But\ninsomuch all that he did was at a lady\u2019s request I blame him the less,\nand so for your sake I will release him, that he shall have his life\nupon this covenant, that he go within the castle and yield him there to\nthe lady, and if she will forgive and quit him, I will well; with this\nthat he make her amends of all the trespass he hath done against her\nand her lands. And also, when that is done, that ye go unto the court\nof king Arthur, and there that ye ask Sir Launcelot mercy, and Sir\nGawaine, for the evil will ye have had against them. Sir, said the red\nknight of the red lawns, all this will I do as ye command, and certain\nassurance and sureties ye shall have. And so then when the assurance\nwas made, he made his homage and fealty, and all those earls and barons\nwith him. And then the maiden Linet came to Sir Beaumains and unarmed\nhim, and searched his wounds, and stinted his blood, and in likewise\nshe did to the red knight of the red lawns. And there they sojourned\nten days in their tents, and the red knight made his lords and servants\nto do all the pleasure that they might unto Sir Beaumains. And so\nwithin a while the red knight of the red lawns went unto the castle and\nput him in the lady Liones\u2019 grace, and so she received him upon\nsufficient surety; so all her hurts were well restored of all that she\ncould complain. And then he departed unto the court of king Arthur, and\nthere openly the red knight of the red lawns put him in the mercy of\nSir Launcelot and Sir Gawaine, and there he told openly how he was\novercome and by whom, and also he told all the battles from the\nbeginning unto the ending. Mercy, said king Arthur and Sir Gawaine, we\nmarvel much of what blood he is come, for he is a noble knight. Have ye\nno marvel, said Sir Launcelot, for ye shall right well wit that he is\ncome of a full noble blood, and as for his might and hardiness there be\nbut few now living that is so mighty as he is, and so noble of prowess.\nIt seemeth by you, said king Arthur, that ye know his name, and from\nwhence he is come, and of what blood he is. I suppose I do so, said\nLauncelot, or else I would not have given him the order of knighthood;\nbut he gave me such charge at that time that I should never discover\nhim until he required me, or else it be known openly by some other.\n_How Beaumains came to the lady, and when he came to the castle the\n gates were closed against him, and of the words that the lady said to\n him._\nNow turn we unto Sir Beaumains, that desired of Linet that he might see\nher sister his lady. Sir, said she, I would fain ye saw her. Then Sir\nBeaumains all armed him, and took his horse and his spear, and rode\nstraight unto the castle. And when he came to the gate he found there\nmany men armed, and pulled up the drawbridge and drew the port close.\nThen marvelled he why they would not suffer him to enter. And then he\nlooked up to the window; and there he saw the fair Liones, that said on\nhigh, Go thy way, Sir Beaumains, for as yet thou shalt not have wholly\nmy love, unto the time that thou be called one of the number of the\nworthy knights. And therefore go labour in worship this twelvemonth,\nand then thou shalt hear new tidings. Alas, fair lady, said Beaumains,\nI have not deserved that ye should shew me this strangeness, and I had\nwend that I should have right good cheer with you, and unto my power I\nhave deserved thank, and well I am sure I have bought your love with\npart of the best blood within my body. Fair courteous knight, said dame\nLiones, be not displeased nor over hasty; for wit ye well your great\ntravail nor good love shall not be lost, for I consider your great\ntravail and labour, your bounty and your goodness, as me ought to do.\nAnd therefore go on your way, and look that ye be of good comfort, for\nall shall be for your worship and for the best, and perdy a twelvemonth\nwill soon be done, and trust me, fair knight, I shall be true to you,\nand never to betray you, but to my death I shall love you and none\nother. And therewithal she turned her from the window; and Sir\nBeaumains rode away ward from the castle, making great dole, and so he\nrode here and there, and wist not where he rode, till it was dark\nnight. And then it happened him to come to a poor man\u2019s house, and\nthere he was harboured all that night. But Sir Beaumains had no rest,\nbut wallowed and writhed for the love of the lady of the castle. And so\nupon the morrow he took his horse, and rode until underne, and then he\ncame to a broad water, and thereby was a great lodge, and there he\nalight to sleep, and laid his head upon the shield, and betook his\nhorse to the dwarf, and commanded him to watch all night. Now turn we\nto the lady of the same castle that thought much upon Beaumains, and\nthen she called unto her Sir Gringamore her brother, and prayed him in\nall manner, as he loved her heartily, that he would ride after Sir\nBeaumains, and ever have ye wait upon him till ye may find him\nsleeping, for I am sure in his heaviness he will alight down in some\nplace and lay him down to sleep: and therefore have ye your wait upon\nhim, and in the priviest manner ye can, take his dwarf, and go ye your\nway with him as fast as ever ye may or Sir Beaumains awake. For my\nsister Linet telleth me that he can tell of what kindred he is come,\nand what is his right name. And the mean while I and my sister will\nride unto your castle to await when ye bring with you the dwarf. And\nthen when ye have brought him unto your castle I will have him in\nexamination myself: unto the time I know what is his right name and of\nwhat kindred he is come, shall I never be merry at my heart. Sister,\nsaid Sir Gringamore, all this shall be done after your intent. And so\nhe rode all the other day and the night till that he found Sir\nBeaumains lying by a water, and his head upon his shield, for to sleep.\nAnd then when he saw Sir Beaumains fast on sleep, he came stilly\nstalking behind the dwarf, and plucked him fast under his arm, and so\nhe rode away with him as fast as ever he might unto his own castle. And\nthis Sir Gringamore\u2019s arms were all black, and that to him belonged.\nBut ever as he rode with the dwarf toward his castle, he cried unto his\nlord and prayed him of help. And therewith awoke Sir Beaumains, and up\nhe lept lightly, and saw where Sir Gringamore rode his way with the\ndwarf, and so Sir Gringamore rode out of his sight.\n_How Sir Beaumains rode after to rescue his dwarf, and came into the\n castle where he was._\nThen Sir Beaumains put on his helm anon, and buckled his shield, and\ntook his horse and rode after him all that ever he might ride, through\nmarshes and fields and great dales, that many times his horse and he\nplunged over the head in deep mires, for he knew not the way, but took\nthe gainest way in that fury, that many times he was like to perish.\nAnd at the last him happened to come to a fair green way, and there he\nmet with a poor man of the country whom he saluted, and asked him\nwhether he met not with a knight upon a black horse and all black\nharness, and a little dwarf sitting behind him with heavy cheer. Sir,\nsaid this poor man, here by me came Sir Gringamore the knight, with\nsuch a dwarf mourning as ye say, and therefore I counsel you not follow\nhim, for he is one of the most perilous knights of the world, and his\ncastle is here nigh hand but two mile, therefore we advise you ride not\nafter Sir Gringamore, but if ye owe him good will.\nSo leave we Sir Beaumains riding toward the castle, and speak we of Sir\nGringamore and the dwarf. Anon as the dwarf was come to the castle,\ndame Liones and dame Linet her sister, asked the dwarf where was his\nmaster born, and of what lineage he was come? And but if thou tell me,\nsaid dame Liones, thou shalt never escape this castle, but ever here to\nbe prisoner. As for that, said the dwarf, I fear not greatly to tell\nhis name, and of what kin he is come. Wit ye well he is a king\u2019s son,\nand his mother is sister to king Arthur, and he is brother to the good\nknight Sir Gawaine, and his name is Sir Gareth of Orkney. And now I\nhave told you his right name, I pray you, fair lady, let me go to my\nlord again, for he will never out of this country until that he have me\nagain. And if he be angry he will do much harm or that he be stint, and\nwork you wrack in this country. As for that threatening, said Sir\nGringamore, be it as it be may, we will go to dinner. And so they\nwashed and went to meat, and made them merry and well at ease, and\nbecause the lady Liones of the castle was there they made great joy.\nTruly madam, said Linet unto her sister, well may he be a king\u2019s son,\nfor he hath many good taches on him, for he is courteous and mild, and\nthe most suffering man that ever I met withall. For I dare say there\nwas never gentlewoman reviled man in so foul manner as I have rebuked\nhim; and at all times he gave me goodly and meek answers again. And as\nthey sat thus talking, there came Sir Gareth in at the gate with an\nangry countenance, and his sword drawn in his hand, and cried aloud\nthat all the castle might hear it, saying, Thou traitor Sir Gringamore,\ndeliver me my dwarf again, or by the faith that I owe to the order of\nknighthood, I shall do thee all the harm that I can. Then Sir\nGringamore looked out at a window and said, Sir Gareth of Orkney, leave\nthy boasting words, for thou gettest not thy dwarf again. Thou coward\nknight, said Sir Gareth, bring him with thee, and come and do battle\nwith me, and win him and take him. So will I do, said Sir Gringamore,\nand me list, but for all thy great words thou gettest him not. Ah! fair\nbrother, said dame Liones, I would he had his dwarf again, for I would\nhe were not wroth, for now he hath told me all my desire I keep no more\nof the dwarf. And also, brother, he hath done much for me, and\ndelivered me from the red knight of the red lawns, and therefore,\nbrother, I owe him my service afore all knights living. And wit ye well\nthat I love him before all other, and full fain I would speak with him.\nBut in no wise I would that he wist what I were, but that I were\nanother strange lady. Well, said Sir Gringamore, since I know now your\nwill, I will obey now unto him. And right therewithall he went down\nunto Sir Gareth, and said, Sir, I cry you mercy, and all that I have\nmisdone I will amend it at your will. And therefore I pray you that ye\nwould alight, and take such cheer as I can make you in this castle.\nShall I have my dwarf? said Sir Gareth. Yea, sir, and all the pleasure\nthat I can make you; for as soon as your dwarf told me what ye were,\nand of what blood ye are come, and what noble deeds ye have done in\nthese marches, then I repented of my deeds. And then Sir Gareth alight,\nand there came his dwarf and took his horse. O my fellow, said Sir\nGareth, I have had many adventures for thy sake. And so Sir Gringamore\ntook him by the hand, and led him into the hall where his own wife was.\n_How Sir Gareth, otherwise called Beaumains, came to the presence of\n his lady, and how they took acquaintance, and of their love._\nAnd then came forth dame Liones arrayed like a princess, and there she\nmade him passing good cheer, and he her again. And they had goodly\nlanguage and lovely countenance together. And Sir Gareth thought many\ntimes, Would that the lady of the castle perilous were so fair as she\nwas. There were all manner of games and plays of dancing and singing.\nAnd ever the more Sir Gareth beheld that lady, the more he loved her,\nand so he burned in love that he was past himself in his reason. And\nforth toward night they went unto supper, and Sir Gareth might not eat\nfor his love was so hot, that he wist not where he was. All these looks\nespied Sir Gringamore, and then after supper he called his sister dame\nLiones unto a chamber and said, Fair sister, I have well espied your\ncountenance between you and this knight, and I will, sister, that ye\nwit he is a full noble knight, and if ye can make him to abide here I\nwill do to him all the pleasure that I can, for and ye were better than\nye are, ye were well bestowed upon him. Fair brother, said dame Liones,\nI understand well that the knight is good, and come he is of a noble\nhouse. Notwithstanding I will assay him better, how be it I am most\nbeholding to him of any earthly man, for he hath had great labour for\nmy love, and passed many a dangerous passage. Right so Sir Gringamore\nwent unto Sir Gareth and said, Sir, make ye good cheer, for ye shall\nhave none other cause, for this lady my sister is yours at all times,\nher worship saved, for wit ye well she loveth you as well as ye do her,\nand better if better may be. And I wist that, said Sir Gareth, there\nlived not a gladder man than I would be. Upon my worship, said Sir\nGringamore, trust unto my promise; and as long as it liketh you ye\nshall sojourn with me, and this lady shall be with us daily and nightly\nto make you all the cheer that she can. I will well, said Sir Gareth,\nfor I have promised to be nigh this country this twelvemonth. And well\nI am sure king Arthur and other noble knights will find me where that I\nam within this twelvemonth. For I shall be sought and found, if that I\nbe on live. And then the noble knight Sir Gareth went unto the dame\nLiones, which he then much loved, and kissed her many times, and either\nmade great joy of other. And there she promised him her love, certainly\nto love him and none other the days of her life. Then this lady, dame\nLiones, by the assent of her brother, told Sir Gareth all the truth\nwhat she was, and how she was the same lady that he did battle for, and\nhow she was lady of the castle perilous. And there she told him how she\ncaused her brother to take away his dwarf.\n_How, at night, came an armed knight and fought with Sir Gareth, and\n he, sore hurt in the thigh, smote off the knight\u2019s head._\nFor this cause, to know the certainty what was your name, and of what\nkin ye were come. And then she let fetch before him Linet the damsel,\nwhich had ridden with him many dreary ways. Then was Sir Gareth more\ngladder than he was tofore. And then they troth plight each other to\nlove, and never to fail while their life lasted. And at after supper\nwas made clean avoidance, that every lord and lady should go unto his\nrest. But Sir Gareth said plainly that he would go no further than the\nhall, for in such places, he said, was convenient for an errant knight\nto take his rest in. And so there were ordained great couches, and\nthereon feather beds, and there laid him down to sleep. And within\nawhile he looked afore him and perceived and saw come an armed knight,\nwith many lights about him. And this knight had a long battle-axe in\nhis hand, and made grim countenance to smite him. When Sir Gareth saw\nhim come in that wise, he lept out of his bed, and gat in his hand his\nsword, and lept straight toward that knight. And when the knight saw\nSir Gareth come so fiercely upon him, he smote him with a thrust\nthrough the thick of the thigh, that the wound was a shaftmon broad,\nand had cut a-two many veins and sinews. And therewithal Sir Gareth\nsmote him upon the helm such a buffet that he fell groveling, and then\nhe lept over him, and unlaced his helm, and smote off his head from the\nbody. And then he bled so fast that he might not stand, but so he laid\nhim down upon his bed, and there he swooned, and lay as he had been\ndead. Then dame Liones found him, and cried aloud, that her brother Sir\nGringamore heard and came down. And when he saw Sir Gareth so\nshamefully wounded, he was sore displeased, and said, I am shamed that\nthis noble knight is thus honoured. Sister, said Sir Gringamore, How\nmay this be that ye be here, and this noble knight wounded? Brother,\nsaid dame Liones, I cannot tell you, for it was not done by me, nor by\nmine assent. For he is my lord, and I am his, and he must be my\nhusband, therefore, brother, I will that ye wit I shame me not to be\nwith him, nor to do him all the pleasure that I can. Sister, said Sir\nGringamore, and I will that ye wit it, and Sir Gareth both, that it was\nnever done by me nor by mine assent that this unhappy deed was done.\nAnd there they stanched his bleeding as well as they might. And great\nsorrow made Sir Gringamore and dame Liones. And forthwithal came dame\nLinet and took up the head in the sight of them all, and anointed it\nwith an ointment there as it was smitten off, and in the same wise she\ndid to the other part there as the head stuck, and then she set it\ntogether, and it stuck as fast as ever it did. And the knight arose\nlightly up, and the damsel Linet put him in her chamber. All this saw\nSir Gringamore and dame Liones, and so did Sir Gareth, and well he\nespied that it was the damsel Linet that rode with him through the\nperilous passages. Ah well, damsel, said Sir Gareth, I wend ye would\nnot have done as ye have done. My lord Gareth, said the damsel Linet,\nall that I have done I will avow, and all that I have done shall be for\nyour honour and worship, and to us all. And so within a while, Sir\nGareth was nigh whole, and waxed light and jocund, and sang, danced,\nand gamed. And at night, because he was wounded afore, he laid his\narmour and his sword nigh his bed side.\n_How the said knight came again the next night, and was beheaded again.\n And how at the feast of Pentecost all the knights that Sir Gareth had\n overcome came and yielded them to king Arthur._\nRight as soon as Sir Gareth was in his bed he espied an armed knight\ncoming toward the bed, and therewith he leaped lightly out, and they\nhurtled together with great ire and malice all about the hall, and\nthere was great light as it had been the number of twenty torches both\nbefore and behind, so that Sir Gareth strained him so that his old\nwound burst out again bleeding, but he was hot and courageous, and took\nno keep, but with his great force he struck down that knight, and\nvoided his helm and struck off his head. Then he hewed the head in an\nhundred pieces. And when he had done so, he took up all those pieces\nand threw them out at a window into the ditches of the castle; and by\nthis done he was so faint that scarcely he might stand for bleeding.\nAnd then he fell in a deadly swoon in the floor. And then dame Liones\nfound him, and cried so that Sir Gringamore heard. And when he came and\nfound Sir Gareth in that plight, he made great sorrow, and there he\nawaked Sir Gareth, and gave him a drink that relieved him wonderly\nwell, but the sorrow that dame Liones made there may no tongue tell,\nfor she so fared with herself as she would have died. Right so came\nthis damsel Linet before them all, and she had fetched all the gobbets\nof the head that Sir Gareth had thrown out at a window, and there she\nanointed them as she had done tofore, and set them together again.\nWell, damsel Linet, said Sir Gareth, I have not deserved all this\ndespite that ye do unto me. Sir knight, she said, I have nothing done\nbut I will avow, and all that I have done shall be to your worship and\nto us all. And then was Sir Gareth stanched of his bleeding. But the\nleeches said that there was no man that bare the life should heal him\nthroughout of his wound, but if they healed him that caused that stroke\nby enchantment.\nSo leave we Sir Gareth there with Sir Gringamore and his sisters, and\nturn we unto king Arthur, that at the next feast of Pentecost held his\nfeast, and there came the green knight with fifty knights, and yielded\nthem all unto king Arthur. And so there came the red knight, his\nbrother, and yielded him to king Arthur, and threescore knights with\nhim. Also there came the blue knight, brother to them, with an hundred\nknights, and yielded them unto king Arthur. And the green knight\u2019s name\nwas Pertolepe, and the red knight\u2019s name was Perimones, and the blue\nknight\u2019s name was Sir Persant of Inde. These three brethren told king\nArthur how they were overcome by a knight that a damsel had with her,\nand called him Beaumains. By my faith, said the king, I marvel what\nknight he is, and of what lineage he is come; he was with me a\ntwelvemonth, and poorly and shamefully he was fostered, and Sir Kay in\nscorn named him Beaumains. So right as the king stood so talking with\nthese three brethren there came Sir Launcelot du Lake, and told the\nking that there was come a goodly lord with six hundred knights with\nhim. Then the king went out of Carlion, for there was the least, and\nthere came to him this lord, and saluted the king in a goodly manner.\nWhat will ye? said king Arthur, and what is your errand? Sir, he said,\nmy name is the red knight of the red lawns, but my name is Sir\nIronside, and, sir, wit ye well here I am sent to you of a knight that\nis called Beaumains, for he won me in plain battle, hand for hand, and\nso did never no knight but he that ever had the better of me this\nthirty winter, the which commanded to yield me to you at your will. Ye\nare welcome, said the king, for ye have been long a great foe to me and\nto my court, and now I trust I shall so entreat you that ye shall be my\nfriend. Sir, both I and these six hundred knights shall always be at\nyour summons to do you service as may lie in our powers. Truly, said\nking Arthur, I am much beholding unto that knight that hath so put his\nbody in devoir to worship me and my court. And as to thee, Ironside,\nthat art called the red knight of the red lawns, thou art called a\nperilous knight. And if thou wilt hold of me I shall worship thee and\nmake thee knight of the Table Round: but then thou must be no more a\nmurderer. Sir, as to that I have promised unto Sir Beaumains never more\nto use such customs, for all the shameful customs that I used I did at\nthe request of a lady that I loved; and therefore I must go unto Sir\nLauncelot, and unto Sir Gawaine, and ask them forgiveness of the evil\nwill I had unto them, for all that I put to death was all only for the\nlove of Sir Launcelot and Sir Gawaine. They be here now, said the king,\nafore thee, now may ye say to them what ye will. And then he kneeled\ndown unto Sir Launcelot and to Sir Gawaine, and prayed them of\nforgiveness of his enmity that ever he had against them.\n_How king Arthur pardoned them, and demanded of them where Sir Gareth\n was._\nThen goodly they said all at once, God forgive you, and we do, and pray\nyou that ye will tell us where we may find Sir Beaumains. Fair lords,\nsaid Sir Ironside, I cannot tell you, for it is full hard to find him,\nfor all such young knights as he is one, when they be in their\nadventures be never abiding in one place. But to say the worship that\nthe red knight of the red lawns and Sir Persant and his brothers said\nof Beaumains it was marvel to hear. Well, my fair lords, said king\nArthur, wit you well I shall do you honour for the love of Sir\nBeaumains, and as soon as ever I meet with him I shall make you all\nupon one day knights of the Table Round. And as to thee, Sir Persant of\nInde, thou hast ever been called a full noble knight, and so have ever\nbeen thy three brethren called. But I marvel, said the king, that I\nhear not of the black knight your brother, he was a full noble knight.\nSir, said Pertolepe the green knight, Sir Beaumains slew him in a\nrecounter with his spear, his name was Sir Percard. That was great\npity, said the king, and so said many knights. For these four brethren\nwere full well known in the court of king Arthur for noble knights, for\nlong time they had holden war against the knights of the Table Round.\nThen said Pertolepe the green knight unto the king: At a passage of the\nwater of Mortaise there encountered Sir Beaumains with two brethren\nthat ever for the most part kept that passage, and they were two deadly\nknights, and there he slew the eldest brother in the water, and smote\nhim upon the head such a buffet that he fell down in the water and\nthere he was drowned, and his name was Gherard le Breusse: and after he\nslew the other brother upon the land, and his name was Sir Arnold le\nBreusse.\n_How the queen of Orkney came to this feast of Pentecost, and Sir\n Gawaine and his brethren came to ask her blessing._\nSo then the king and they went to meat, and were served in the best\nmanner. And as they sat at the meat, there came in the queen of Orkney,\nwith ladies and knights a great number. And then Sir Gawaine, Sir\nAgravaine and Gaheris arose and went to her, and saluted her upon their\nknees and asked her blessing: for in fifteen year they had not seen\nher. Then she spake on high to her brother king Arthur: Where have ye\ndone my young son Sir Gareth. He was here amongst you a twelvemonth,\nand ye made a kitchen knave of him, the which is shame to you all.\nAlas, where have ye done my dear son that was my joy and bliss? Oh dear\nmother, said Sir Gawaine, I knew him not. Nor I, said the king, that\nnow me repenteth, but thanked be God he is proved a worshipful knight\nas any is now living of his years, and I shall never be glad till I may\nfind him. Ah brother, said the queen unto king Arthur, and to Sir\nGawaine, and to all her sons, ye did yourself great shame when ye\namongst you kept my son Gareth in the kitchen and fed him like a poor\nhog. Fair sister, said king Arthur, ye shall right well wit I knew him\nnot, nor no more did Sir Gawaine nor his brethren. But since it is so\nthat he is thus gone from us all, we must shape a remedy to find him.\nAlso, sister, me seemeth ye might have done me to wit of his coming,\nand then, and I had not done well to him, ye might have blamed me. For\nwhen he came to this court he came leaning upon two men\u2019s shoulders, as\nthough he might not have gone. And then he asked me three gifts, and\none he asked the same day, that was that I would give him meat enough\nthat twelvemonth. And the other two gifts he asked that day a\ntwelvemonth, and that was that he might have the adventure of the\ndamsel Linet, and the third was that Sir Launcelot should make him\nknight when he desired him. And so I granted him all his desire, and\nmany in this court marvelled that he desired his sustenance for a\ntwelvemonth, and thereby we deemed many of us that he was not come of a\nnoble house. Sir, said the queen of Orkney unto king Arthur her\nbrother, wit you well that I sent him unto you right well armed and\nhorsed, and worshipfully beseen of his body, and gold and silver plenty\nto spend. It may be, said the king, but thereof saw we none, save that\nsame day as he departed from us, knights told me that there came a\ndwarf hither suddenly, and brought him armour and a good horse, full\nwell and richly beseen, and thereat we had all marvel from whence that\nriches came, that we deemed all that he was come of men of worship.\nBrother, said the queen, all that ye say I believe, for ever since he\nwas grown he was marvellously witted: and ever he was faithful and true\nof his promise. But I marvel, said she, that Sir Kay did mock him and\nscorn him, and gave him that name Beaumains: yet Sir Kay, said the\nqueen, named him more righteously than he wend; for I dare say, and he\nbe on live, he is as fair an handed man and well disposed as any is\nliving. Sister, said Arthur, let this language be still, and by the\ngrace of God he shall be found and he be within these seven realms, and\nlet all this pass, and be merry, for he is proved to be a man of\nworship, and that is my joy.\n_How king Arthur sent for the lady Liones, and how she let cry a\n tourney at her castle, where as came many knights._\nThen said Sir Gawaine and his brethren unto Arthur, Sir, and ye will\ngive us leave we will go and seek our brother. Nay, said Sir Launcelot,\nthat shall ye not need, and so said Sir Baudwin of Britain: for as by\nour advice the king shall send unto dame Liones a messager, and pray\nher that she will come to the court in all the haste that she may, and\ndoubt ye not she will come, and then she may give you best counsel\nwhere ye shall find him. This is well said of you, said the king. So\nthen goodly letters were made, and the messager sent forth, that night\nand day he went till he came unto the castle perilous. And then the\nlady dame Liones was sent for there as she was with Sir Gringamore her\nbrother and Sir Gareth. And when she understood this message, she bad\nhim ride on his way unto king Arthur, and she would come after in all\ngoodly haste. Then when she came to Sir Gringamore and to Sir Gareth,\nshe told them all how king Arthur had sent for her. That is because of\nme, said Sir Gareth. Now advise me, said dame Liones, what shall I say,\nand in what manner I shall rule me. My lady and my love, said Sir\nGareth, I pray you in no manner of wise be ye aknown where I am, but\nwell I wot my mother is there and all my brethren, and they will take\nupon them to seek me; and I wot well that they do. But this, madam, I\nwould ye said and advised the king, when he questioneth with you of me:\nthen may ye say, this is your advice, that, and it like his good grace,\nye will do make a cry against the feast of the Assumption of our Lady,\nthat what knight there proveth him best, he shall weld you and all your\nland. And if so be that he be a wedded man, that his wife shall have\nthe degree and a coronal of gold, beset with stones of virtue to the\nvalue of a thousand pound, and a white jerfalcon.\nSo dame Liones departed and came to king Arthur, where she was nobly\nreceived, and there she was sore questioned of the king, and of the\nqueen of Orkney. And she answered, where Sir Gareth was she could not\ntell. But thus much she said unto Arthur; Sir, I will let cry a\ntournament, that shall be done before my castle at the Assumption of\nour Lady, and the cry shall be this, that you my lord Arthur shall be\nthere and your knights, and I will purvey that my knights shall be\nagainst yours: and then I am sure ye shall hear of Sir Gareth. This is\nwell advised, said king Arthur: and so she departed. And the king and\nshe made great provision for that tournament. When dame Liones was come\nto the Isle of Avilion, that was the same isle there as her brother Sir\nGringamore dwelt, then she told him all how she had done, and what\npromise she had made to king Arthur. Alas, said Sir Gareth, I have been\nso wounded by mishap sithen I came into this castle, that I shall not\nbe able to do at that tournament like a knight, for I was never\nthoroughly whole since I was hurt. Be ye of good cheer, said the damsel\nLinet, for I undertake within these fifteen days for to make you whole,\nand as lusty as ever ye were. And then she laid an ointment and a salve\nto him as it pleased her, that he was never so fresh nor so lusty. Then\nsaid the damsel Linet: Send you unto Sir Persant of Inde, and summon\nhim and his knights to be here with you as they have promised. Also,\nthat ye send unto Sir Ironside, that is the red knight of the red\nlawns, and charge him that he be ready with you with his whole sum of\nknights, and then shall ye be able to match with king Arthur and his\nknights. So this was done, and all knights were sent for unto the\ncastle perilous. And then the red knight answered and said unto dame\nLiones, and to Sir Gareth, Madam, and my lord Sir Gareth, ye shall\nunderstand that I have been at the court of king Arthur, and Sir\nPersant of Inde and his brethren, and there we have done our homage as\nye commanded us. Also, Sir Ironside said, I have taken upon me with Sir\nPersant of Inde and his brethren to hold party against my lord Sir\nLauncelot and the knights of that court. And this have I done for the\nlove of my lady dame Liones, and you my lord Sir Gareth. Ye have well\ndone, said Sir Gareth. But wit you well ye shall be full sore matched\nwith the most noble knights of the world, therefore we must purvey us\nof good knights, where we may get them. That is well said, said Sir\nPersant, and worshipfully. And so the cry was made in England, Wales,\nand Scotland, Ireland, and Cornwall, and in all the out isles, and in\nBritany, and in many countries; that at the feast of the Assumption of\nour Lady next coming, men should come to the castle perilous, beside\nthe Isle of Avilion, and there all the knights that there came should\nhave the choice whether them list to be on the one party with the\nknights of the castle, or on the other party with king Arthur. And two\nmonths was to the day that the tournament should be. And so there came\nmany good knights that were at large, and held them for the most part\nagainst king Arthur and his knights of the Round Table, and came on the\nside of them of the castle. For Sir Epinogrus was the first, and he was\nthe king\u2019s son of Northumberland, and Sir Palamides the Saracen was\nanother, and Sir Safere his brother, and Sir Sagwarides his brother,\nbut they were christened, and Sir Malegrine another, and Sir Brian de\nles Isles, a noble knight, and Sir Grummore Gummursum, a good knight of\nScotland, and Sir Carados of the dolorous tower, a noble knight, and\nSir Turquin his brother, and Sir Arnold and Sir Gauter, two brethren,\ngood knights of Cornwall: there came Sir Tristram de Liones, and with\nhim Sir Dinadan the seneschal and Sir Sadok; but this Sir Tristram was\nnot at that time knight of the Table Round, but he was one of the best\nknights of the world. And so all these noble knights accompanied them\nwith the lady of the castle, and with the red knight of the red lawns,\nbut as for Sir Gareth, he would not take upon him more but as other\nmean knights.\n_How king Arthur went to the tournament with his knights, and how the\n lady received him worshipfully, and how the knights encountered._\nAnd then there came with king Arthur Sir Gawaine, Agravaine and\nGaheris, his brethren. And then his nephews Sir Uwaine le Blanchemains,\nand Sir Aglovale, Sir Tor, Sir Percivale de Galis, and Sir Lamorak de\nGalis. Then came Sir Launcelot du Lake with his brethren, nephews, and\ncousins, as Sir Lionel, Sir Ector de Maris, Sir Bors de Ganis, and Sir\nGalihodin, Sir Galihud, and many more of Sir Launcelot\u2019s blood; and Sir\nDinadan, Sir La Cote Male Taile his brother, a good knight, and Sir\nSagramore, a good knight; and all the most part of the Round Table.\nAlso there came with king Arthur these knights, the king of Ireland,\nking Agwisaunce, and the king of Scotland, king Carados, and king\nUriens of the land of Gore, and king Bagdemagus, and his son Sir\nMeliaganus, and Sir Galahault the noble prince. All these kings,\nprinces, earls, barons, and other noble knights, as Sir Brandiles, Sir\nUwaine les Avoutres, and Sir Kay, Sir Bedivere, Sir Meliot de Logris,\nSir Petipase of Winchelsea, Sir Godelake. All these came with king\nArthur, and many more that cannot be rehearsed.\nNow leave we of these kings and knights, and let us speak of the great\narray that was made within the castle and about the castle for both\nparties. The lady dame Liones ordained great array upon her part for\nher noble knights, for all manner of lodging and victual that came by\nland and by water, that there lacked nothing for her party, nor for the\nother, but there was plenty to be had for gold and silver for king\nArthur and his knights. And then there came the harbingers from king\nArthur, for to harbour him and his kings, dukes, earls, barons, and\nknights. And then Sir Gareth prayed dame Liones, and the red knight of\nthe red lawns, and Sir Persant and his brother, and Sir Gringamore,\nthat in no wise there should none of them tell his name, and make no\nmore of him than of the least knight that there was; for he said, I\nwill not be known of neither more nor less, neither at the beginning\nneither at the ending.\nThen dame Liones said unto Sir Gareth, Sir, I will lend you a ring, but\nI would pray you as ye love me heartily let me have it again when the\ntournament is done, for that ring increaseth my beauty much more than\nit is of itself. And the virtue of my ring is that that is green it\nwill turn to red, and that is red it will turn in likeness to green,\nand that is blue it will turn to likeness of white, and that is white\nit will turn in likeness to blue, and so it will do of all manner of\ncolours. Also, who that beareth my ring shall lose no blood, and for\ngreat love I will give you this ring. Gramercy, said Sir Gareth, mine\nown lady, for this ring is passing meet for me, for it will turn all\nmanner of likeness that I am in, and that shall cause me that I shall\nnot be known. Then Sir Gringamore gave Sir Gareth a bay courser that\nwas a passing good horse: also he gave him good armour and sure, and a\nnoble sword that some time Sir Gringamore\u2019s father won upon an heathen\ntyrant. And so thus every knight made him ready to that tournament. And\nking Arthur was come two days tofore the Assumption of our Lady. And\nthere was all manner of royalty of all minstrelsy that might be found.\nAlso there came queen Guenever, and the queen of Orkney, Sir Gareth\u2019s\nmother. And upon the Assumption day, when mass and matins was done,\nthere were heralds with trumpets commanded to blow to the field. And so\nthere came out Sir Epinogrus, the king\u2019s son of Northumberland, from\nthe castle, and there encountered with him Sir Sagramore le Desirous,\nand either of them brake their spears to their hands. And then came in\nSir Palamides out of the castle, and there encountered with him\nGawaine, and either of them smote other so hard that both the good\nknights and their horses fell to the earth. And then knights of either\nparty rescued their knights. And then came in Sir Safere and Sir\nSagwarides, brethren unto Sir Palamides, and there encountered Sir\nAgravaine with Sir Safere, and Sir Gaheris encountered with Sir\nSagwarides. So Sir Safere smote down Agravaine, Sir Gawaine\u2019s brother,\nand Sir Segwarides, Sir Safere\u2019s brother, smote down Sir Gaheris. And\nSir Malgrine, a knight of the castle, encountered with Sir Uwaine le\nBlanchemains, and there Sir Uwaine gave Sir Malgrine a fall, that he\nhad almost broken his neck.\n_How the knights bare them in battle._\nThen Sir Brian de les Isles, and Grummore Grummorsum, knights of the\ncastle, encountered with Sir Aglovale and Sir Tor, and Sir Tor smote\ndown Sir Grummore Grummorsum to the earth. Then came in Sir Carados of\nthe dolorous tower, and Sir Turquine, knights of the castle, and there\nencountered with them Sir Percivale de Galis and Sir Lamorak de Galis,\nthat were two brethren, and there encountered Sir Percivale with Sir\nCarados, and either brake their spears unto their hands, and then Sir\nTurquine with Sir Lamorak, and either of them smote down other, horse\nand all, to the earth, and either parties rescued other and horsed them\nagain. And Sir Arnold, and Sir Gauter, knights of the castle,\nencountered with Sir Brandiles and Sir Kay, and these four knights\nencountered mightily, and brake their spears to their hands. Then came\nin Sir Tristram, and Sir Saduk, and Sir Dinas, knights of the castle,\nand there encountered Sir Tristram with Sir Bedivere, and there Sir\nBedivere was smitten to the earth, both horse and man: and Sir Saduk\nencountered with Sir Petipase, and there Sir Saduk was overthrown. And\nthere Uwaine les Avoutres smote down Sir Dinas the seneschal. Then came\nin Sir Persant of Inde, a knight of the castle, and there encountered\nwith him Sir Launcelot du Lake, and there he smote Sir Persant, horse\nand man, to the earth. Then came Sir Pertolope from the castle, and\nthere encountered with him Sir Lionel, and there Sir Pertolope the\ngreen knight smote down Sir Lionel, brother to Sir Launcelot. All this\nas marked by noble heralds, who bare him best, and their names. And\nthen came into the field Sir Perimones the red knight, Sir Persant\u2019s\nbrother, that was a knight of the castle, and he encountered with Sir\nEctor de Maris, and either smote other so hard that both their horses\nand they fell to the earth. And then came in the red knight of the red\nlawns, and Sir Gareth, from the castle, and there encountered with them\nSir Bors de Ganis and Sir Bleoberis, and there the red knight and Sir\nBors smote other so hard that their spears brast, and their horses fell\ngroveling to the earth. Then Sir Bleoberis brake his spear upon Sir\nGareth, but of that stroke Sir Bleoberis fell to the earth. When Sir\nGalihodin saw that, he bad Sir Gareth keep him, and Sir Gareth smote\nhim to the earth. Then Sir Galihud gat a spear to avenge his brother,\nand in the same wise Sir Gareth served him, and Sir Dinadan and his\nbrother La Cote Male Taile, and Sir Sagramor le Desirous, and Sir\nDodinas le Savage; all these he bare down with one spear. When king\nAgwisance of Ireland saw Sir Gareth fare so he marvelled what he might\nbe, that one time seemed green, and another time, at his again coming,\nhe seemed blue. And thus at every course that he rode to and fro he\nchanged his colour, so that there might neither king nor knight have\nready cognisance of him. Then Sir Agwisance the king of Ireland\nencountered with Sir Gareth, and there Sir Gareth smote him from his\nhorse, saddle and all. And then came king Carados of Scotland, and Sir\nGareth smote him down, horse and man. And in the same wise he served\nking Uriens of the land of Gore. And then there came in Sir Bagdemagus,\nand Sir Gareth smote him down horse and man to the earth. And\nBagdemagus\u2019s son Meliganus brake a spear upon Sir Gareth mightily and\nknightly. And then Sir Galahault the noble prince cried on high, Knight\nwith the many colours, well hast thou justed; now make thee ready that\nI may just with thee. Sir Gareth heard him, and he gat a great spear,\nand so they encountered together, and there the prince brake his spear:\nbut Sir Gareth smote him upon the left side of the helm, that he reeled\nhere and there, and he had fallen down had not his men recovered him.\nTruly, said king Arthur, that knight with the many colours is a good\nknight. Wherefore the king called unto him Sir Launcelot, and prayed\nhim to encounter with that knight. Sir, said Launcelot, I may well find\nin my heart for to forbear him as at this time, for he hath had travail\nenough this day, and when a good knight doth so well upon some day, it\nis no good knight\u2019s part to let him of his worship, and, namely, when\nhe seeth a knight hath done so great labour: for peradventure, said Sir\nLauncelot, his quarrel is here this day, and peradventure he is best\nbeloved with this lady of all that be here, for I see well he paineth\nhimself and enforceth him to do great deeds, and therefore, said Sir\nLauncelot, as for me, this day he shall have the honour; though it lay\nin my power to put him from it, I would not.\n_Yet of the said Tournament._\nThen when this was done, there was drawing of swords; and then there\nbegan a sore tournament. And there did Sir Lamorak marvellous deeds of\narms, and betwixt Sir Lamorak and Sir Ironside, that was the red knight\nof the red lawns, there was a strong battle, and betwixt Sir Palamides\nand Bleoberis was a strong battle; and Sir Gawaine and Sir Tristram\nmet, and there Sir Gawaine had the worst, for he pulled Sir Gawaine\nfrom his horse, and there he was long upon foot and defouled. Then came\nin Sir Launcelot, and he smote Sir Turquine, and he him, and then came\nSir Carados his brother, and both at once they assailed him, and he, as\nthe most noblest knight of the world, worshipfully fought with them\nboth, that all men wondered of the nobleness of Sir Launcelot. And then\ncame in Sir Gareth and knew that it was Sir Launcelot that fought with\nthose two perilous knights. And then Sir Gareth came with his good\nhorse and hurtled them in sunder, and no stroke would he smite to Sir\nLauncelot. That espied Sir Launcelot, and deemed it should be the good\nknight Sir Gareth; and then Sir Gareth rode here and there, and smote\non the right hand and on the left hand, that all the folk might well\nespy where that he rode. And by fortune he met with his brother Sir\nGawaine, and there he put Sir Gawaine to the worse, for he put off his\nhelm; and so he served five or six knights of the Round Table, that all\nmen said he put him in the most pain, and best he did his devoir. For\nwhen Sir Tristram beheld him how he first justed and after fought so\nwell with a sword, then he rode unto Sir Ironside and to Sir Persant of\nInde, and asked them by their faith, What manner a knight is yonder\nknight that seemeth in so many divers colours; truly, me seemeth, said\nTristram, that he putteth himself in great pain, for he never ceaseth.\nWot ye not what he is? said Sir Ironside. No, said Sir Tristram. Then\nshall ye know that this is he that loveth the lady of the castle, and\nshe him again; and this is he that won me when I besieged the lady of\nthis castle, and this is he that won Sir Persant of Inde and his three\nbrethren. What is his name, said Sir Tristram, and of what blood is he\ncome? He was called in the court of king Arthur Beaumains, but his name\nis Sir Gareth of Orkney, brother to Sir Gawaine. By my head, said Sir\nTristram, he is a good knight, and a big man of arms, and if he be\nyoung he shall prove a full noble knight. He is but a child, they all\nsaid; and of Sir Launcelot he was made knight. Therefore he is mickle\nthe better, said Tristram. And then Sir Tristram, Sir Ironside, Sir\nPersant, and his brother, rode together for to help Sir Gareth, and\nthen there were given many strong strokes. And then Sir Gareth rode out\non the one side to amend his helm. And then said his dwarf, Take me\nyour ring, that ye lose it not while that ye drink. And so when he had\ndrunk, he gat on his helm, and eagerly took his horse and rode into the\nfield, and left his ring with his dwarf, and the dwarf was glad the\nring was from him, for then he wist well he should be known. And then\nwhen Sir Gareth was in the field, all folks saw him well and plainly\nthat he was in yellow colours, and there he rashed off helms, and\npulled down knights, that king Arthur had marvel what knight he was,\nfor the king saw by his hair that it was the same knight.\n_How Sir Gareth was espied by the heralds, and how he escaped out of\n the field._\nBut before he was in so many colours, and now he is but in one colour,\nthat is yellow: now go, said king Arthur unto divers heralds, and ride\nabout him, and espy what manner knight he is, for I have asked of many\nknights this day that be upon his party, and all say they know him not.\nAnd so an herald rode nigh Gareth as he could, and there he saw written\nabout his helm in gold, This helm is Sir Gareth\u2019s of Orkney. Then the\nherald cried as he were wood, and many heralds with him, This is Sir\nGareth of Orkney, in the yellow arms, that all kings and knights of\nArthur\u2019s beheld him and awaited, and then they pressed all to behold\nhim: and ever the heralds cried, This is Sir Gareth of Orkney, king\nLot\u2019s son. And when Sir Gareth espied that he was discovered, then he\ndoubled his strokes, and smote down Sir Sagramore, and his brother Sir\nGawaine. O brother, said Sir Gawaine, I wend ye would not have stricken\nme. So when he heard him say so, he thrang here and there, and so with\ngreat pain he gat out of the press, and there he met with his dwarf. O\nboy, said Sir Gareth, thou hast beguiled me foul this day that thou\nkept my ring. Give it me anon again, that I may hide my body withal;\nand so he took it him. And then they all wist not where he was become;\nand Sir Gawaine had in manner espied where Sir Gareth rode, and then he\nrode after with all his might. That espied Sir Gareth, and rode lightly\ninto the forest, that Sir Gawaine wist not where he was become. And\nwhen Sir Gareth wist that Sir Gawaine was past, he asked the dwarf of\nbest counsel. Sir, said the dwarf, me seemeth it were best, now that ye\nare escaped from spying, that ye send my lady dame Liones her ring. It\nis well advised, said Sir Gareth; now have it here, and bear it to her,\nand say that I recommend me unto her good grace, and say her I will\ncome when I may, and I pray her to be true and faithful to me, as I\nwill be to her. Sir, said the dwarf, it shall be done as ye command:\nand so he rode his way, and did his errand unto the lady. Then she\nsaid, Where is my knight Sir Gareth? Madam, said the dwarf, he bad me\nsay that he would not be long from you. And so lightly the dwarf came\nagain unto Sir Gareth, that would fain have had a lodging, for he had\nneed to be reposed. And then fell there a thunder and a rain, as heaven\nand earth should go together. And Sir Gareth was not a little weary,\nfor of all that day he had but little rest, neither his horse nor he.\nSo this Sir Gareth rode so long in that forest until the night came.\nAnd ever it lightened and thundered, as it had been wood. At the last\nby fortune he came to a castle, and there he heard the waits upon the\nwalls.\n_How Sir Gareth came to a castle where he was well lodged, and how he\n justed with a knight and he slew him._\nThen Sir Gareth rode unto the barbican of the castle, and prayed the\nporter fair to let him into the castle. The porter answered ungoodly\nagain, and said, Thou gettest no lodging here. Fair sir, say not so,\nfor I am a knight of king Arthur\u2019s, and pray the lord or the lady of\nthis castle to give me harbour for the love of king Arthur. Then the\nporter went unto the duchess, and told her how there was a knight of\nking Arthur\u2019s would have harbour. Let him in, said the duchess, for I\nwill see that knight, and for king Arthur\u2019s sake he shall not be\nharbourless. Then she went up into a tower over the gate, with great\ntorch light. When Sir Gareth saw that torch light, he cried on high,\nWhether thou be lord or lady, giant or champion, I take no force, so\nthat I may have harbour this night, and if it be so that I must needs\nfight, spare me not to morn when I have rested me, for both I and my\nhorse be weary. Sir knight, said the lady, thou speakest knightly and\nboldly, but wit thou well that the lord of this castle loveth not king\nArthur, nor none of his court, for my lord hath ever been against him,\nand therefore thou were better not to come within this castle. For and\nthou come in this night, thou must come in under such form, that\nwheresoever thou meet my lord, by lane, or by street, thou must yield\nthee to him as prisoner. Madam, said Sir Gareth, what is your lord, and\nwhat is his name? Sir, my lord\u2019s name is the duke de la Rowse. Well,\nmadam, said Sir Gareth, I shall promise you in what place I meet your\nlord, I shall yield me unto him and to his good grace, with that I\nunderstand he will do me no harm: and if I understand that he will,\nwill I release myself and I can with my spear and with my sword. Ye say\nwell, said the duchess, and then she let the draw-bridge down. And so\nhe rode into the hall, and there he alight, and his horse was led into\na stable, and in the hall he unarmed him and said, Madam, I will not\nout of this hall this night; and when it is day-light let see who will\nhave ado with me, he shall find me ready. Then was he set unto supper,\nand had many good dishes. Then Sir Gareth list well to eat, and\nknightly he ate his meat, and eagerly; there was many a fair lady by\nhim, and some of them said they never saw a goodlier man, nor so well\nof eating. Then they made him passing good cheer. And shortly when he\nhad supped, his bed was made there; so he rested him all night. And on\nthe morn he heard mass, and broke his fast, and took his leave at the\nduchess, and at them all, and thanked her goodly of her lodging, and of\nhis good cheer. And then she asked him his name. Madam, said he, truly,\nmy name is Gareth of Orkney, and some men call me Beaumains. Then knew\nshe well it was the same knight that fought for dame Liones. So Sir\nGareth departed, and rode up into a mountain, and there met him a\nknight, his name was Sir Bendelaine, and said to Sir Gareth, Thou shalt\nnot pass this way, for either thou shalt just with me, or be my\nprisoner. Then will I just, said Sir Gareth. And so they let their\nhorses run, and there Sir Gareth smote him throughout the body, and Sir\nBendelaine rode forth to his castle there beside, and there died. So\nSir Gareth would have rested him, and he came riding to Bendelaine\u2019s\ncastle. Then his knights and his servants espied that it was he that\nhad slain their lord. Then they armed twenty good men, and came out and\nassailed Sir Gareth, and so he had no spear, but his sword, and put his\nshield afore him, and there they brake their spears upon him, and they\nassailed him passingly sore. But ever Sir Gareth defended him as a\nknight.\n_How Sir Gareth fought with a knight that held within his castle thirty\n ladies, and how he slew him._\nSo when they saw that they might not overcome him, they rode from him\nand took their counsel to slay his horse, and so they came in upon Sir\nGareth, and with spears they slew his horse, and then they assailed him\nhard. But when he was on foot there was none that he fought but he gave\nhim such a buffet that he did never recover. So he slew them by one and\none till they were but four, and there they fled, and Sir Gareth took a\ngood horse that was one of theirs, and rode his way. Then he rode a\ngreat pace till that he came to a castle, and there he heard much\nmourning of ladies and gentlewomen. So there came by him a page: What\nnoise is this, said Sir Gareth, that I hear within this castle? Sir\nknight, said the page, here be within this castle thirty ladies, and\nall they be widows, for here is a knight that waiteth daily upon this\ncastle, and his name is the brown knight without pity, and he is the\nmost perilous knight that now liveth. And, therefore, sir, said the\npage, I rede you flee. Nay, said Sir Gareth, I will not flee, though\nthou be afeard of him. And then the page saw where came the brown\nknight. Lo, said the page, yonder he cometh. Let me deal with him, said\nSir Gareth. And when either of other had a sight, they let their horses\nrun, and the brown knight brake his spear, and Sir Gareth smote him\nthroughout the body, that he overthrew him to the ground stark dead. So\nSir Gareth rode into the castle, and prayed the ladies that he might\nrepose him. Alas, said the ladies, ye may not be lodged here. Make him\ngood cheer, said the page, for this knight hath slain your enemy. Then\nthey all made him good cheer as lay in their power. But wit ye well\nthey made him good cheer, for they might none otherwise do, for they\nwere but poor. And so on the morn he went to mass, and there he saw the\nthirty ladies kneel, and lay groveling upon divers tombs making great\ndole and sorrow. Then Sir Gareth wist well that in the tombs lay their\nlords. Fair ladies, said Sir Gareth, ye must at the next feast of\nPentecost be at the court of king Arthur, and say that I Sir Gareth\nsent you thither. We shall do this, said the ladies. So he departed,\nand by fortune he came to a mountain, and there he found a goodly\nknight that bad him, Abide Sir knight, and just with me. What are ye?\nsaid Sir Gareth. My name is, said he, the duke de la Rowse. Ah! Sir, ye\nare the same knight that I lodged once in your castle, and there I made\npromise unto your lady that I should yield me unto you. Ah! said the\nduke, art thou that proud knight that proffered to fight with my\nknights? therefore make thee ready, for I will have ado with thee. So\nthey let their horses run, and there Sir Gareth smote the duke down\nfrom his horse. But the duke lightly avoided his horse, and dressed his\nshield, and drew his sword, and bad Sir Gareth alight and fight with\nhim. So he did alight, and they did great battle together more than an\nhour, and either hurt other full sore. At the last Sir Gareth gat the\nduke to the earth, and would have slain him, and then he yielded him to\nhim. Then must ye go, said Sir Gareth, unto Sir Arthur my lord at the\nnext feast, and say that I Sir Gareth of Orkney sent you unto him. It\nshall be done, said the duke, and I will do to you homage and fealty\nwith an hundred knights with me, and all the days of my life to do you\nservice where ye will command me.\n_How Sir Gawaine and Sir Gareth fought each against other, and how they\n knew each other by the damsel Linet._\nSo the duke departed, and Sir Gareth stood there alone, and there he\nsaw an armed knight coming toward him. Then Sir Gareth took the duke\u2019s\nshield and mounted upon horseback, and so without bidding they ran\ntogether as it had been the thunder. And there that knight hurt Sir\nGareth under the side with his spear. And then they alight and drew\ntheir swords, and gave great strokes, that the blood trailed to the\nground. And so they fought two hours. At the last there came the damsel\nLinet, that some men call the damsel Savage, and she came riding upon\nan ambling mule, and there she cried all on high, Sir Gawaine, Sir\nGawaine, leave thy fighting with thy brother Sir Gareth. And when he\nheard her say so he threw away his shield and his sword, and ran to Sir\nGareth and took him in his arms, and then kneeled down and asked him\nmercy. What are ye, said Sir Gareth, that right now were so strong and\nso mighty, and now so suddenly yield you to me? O Gareth, I am your\nbrother Sir Gawaine, that for your sake have had great sorrow and\nlabour. Then Sir Gareth unlaced his helm, and kneeled down to him and\nasked him mercy. Then they rose both, and embraced either other in\ntheir arms, and wept a great while or they might speak, and either of\nthem gave other the prize of the battle. And there were many kind words\nbetween them. Alas, my fair brother, said Sir Gawaine, perdy I ought of\nright to worship you and ye were not my brother, for ye have worshipped\nking Arthur and all his court, for ye have sent him more worshipful\nknights this twelvemonth than six the best of the Round Table have\ndone, except Sir Launcelot. Then came the damsel Savage, that was the\nlady Linet that rode with Sir Gareth so long, and there she did stanch\nSir Gareth\u2019s wounds and Sir Gawaine\u2019s. Now what will ye do? said the\ndamsel Savage; me seemeth it were well done that Arthur had tidings of\nyou both, for your horses are so bruised that they may not bear. Now,\nfair damsel, said Sir Gawaine, I pray you ride unto my lord, mine uncle\nking Arthur, and tell him what adventure is to me betid here, and I\nsuppose he will not tarry long. Then she took her mule, and lightly she\ncame to king Arthur that was but two miles thence, and when she had\ntold him the tidings, the king bad get him a palfrey. And when he was\nupon his back he bad the lords and ladies come after who that would:\nand there was saddling and bridling of queens\u2019 horses, and princes\u2019\nhorses, and well was him that soonest might be ready. So when the king\ncame there as they were, he saw Sir Gawaine and Sir Gareth sit upon a\nlittle hill side, and then the king avoided his horse. And when he came\nnigh Sir Gareth he would have spoken but he might not, and therewith he\nsank down in a swoon for gladness. And so they start unto their uncle,\nand required him of his good grace to be of good comfort. Wit ye well\nthe king made great joy, and many a piteous complaint he made unto Sir\nGareth, and ever he wept as he had been a child. With that came his\nmother the queen of Orkney, dame Morgause, and when she saw Sir Gareth\nreadily in the visage, she might not weep, but suddenly fell down in a\nswoon, and lay there a great while like as she had been dead. And then\nSir Gareth recomforted his mother in such a wise that she recovered,\nand made good cheer. Then the king commanded that all manner of knights\nthat were under his obeisance should make their lodging right there for\nthe love of his nephews. And so it was done, and all manner of\npurveyance purveyed that there lacked nothing that might be gotten of\ntame nor wild for gold or silver. And then by the means of the damsel\nSavage Sir Gawaine and Sir Gareth were healed of their wounds, and\nthere they sojourned eight days. Then said king Arthur unto the damsel\nSavage, I marvel that your sister dame Liones cometh not here to me,\nand in especial that she cometh not to visit her knight, my nephew Sir\nGareth, that hath had so much travail for her love. My lord, said the\ndamsel Linet, ye must of your good grace hold her excused, for she\nknoweth not that my lord Sir Gareth is here. Go then for her, said king\nArthur, that we may be appointed what is best to be done, according\nunto the pleasure of my nephew. Sir, said the damsel, that shall be\ndone, and so she rode unto her sister. And as lightly as she might she\nmade her ready, and she came on the morn with her brother Sir\nGringamore, and with her forty knights. And so when she was come, she\nhad all the cheer that might be done, both of the king and of many\nother kings and queens.\n_How Sir Gareth acknowledged that they loved each other to king Arthur,\n and of the appointment of their wedding._\nAnd among all these ladies she was named the fairest and peerless. Then\nwhen Sir Gareth saw her, there was many a goodly look and goodly words,\nthat all men of worship had joy to behold them. Then came king Arthur\nand many other kings, and dame Guenever and the queen of Orkney. And\nthere the king asked his nephew Sir Gareth whether he would have that\nlady to his wife? My lord, wit you well that I love her above all\nladies living. Now, fair lady, said king Arthur, what say ye? Most\nnoble king, said dame Liones, wit you well that my lord Sir Gareth is\nto me more lever to have and hold as my husband, than any king or\nprince that is christened, and if I may not have him I promise you I\nwill never have none. For, my lord Arthur, said dame Liones, wit ye\nwell he is my first love, and he shall be the last: and if ye will\nsuffer him to have his will and free choice, I dare say he will have\nme. That is truth, said Sir Gareth, and I have not you and hold not you\nas my wife, there shall never lady nor gentlewoman rejoice me. What\nnephew, said the king, is the wind in that door! for wit ye well I\nwould not for the stint of my crown to be causer to withdraw your\nhearts, and wit ye well ye cannot love so well but I shall rather\nincrease it than distress it. And also ye shall have my love and my\nlordship in the uttermost wise that may lie in my power. And in the\nsame wise said Sir Gareth\u2019s mother. Then was there made a provision for\nthe day of marriage, and by the king\u2019s advice it was provided that it\nshould be at Michaelmas following, at Kinkenadon by the sea-side, for\nthere is a plentiful country. And so it was cried in all the places\nthrough the realm. And then Sir Gareth sent his summons unto all these\nknights and ladies that he had won in battle tofore, that they should\nbe at his day of marriage at Kinkenadon by the sands. And then dame\nLiones and the damsel Linet, with Sir Gringamore, rode to their castle,\nand a goodly and a rich ring she gave to Sir Gareth, and he gave her\nanother. And king Arthur gave her a rich bee of gold, and so she\ndeparted. And king Arthur and his fellowship rode toward Kinkenadon,\nand Sir Gareth brought his lady on the way, and so came to the king\nagain and rode with him. Oh the great cheer that Sir Launcelot made of\nSir Gareth and he of him: for there was never no knight that Sir Gareth\nloved so well as he did Sir Launcelot, and ever for the most part he\nwould be in Sir Launcelot\u2019s company: for after Sir Gareth had espied\nSir Gawaine\u2019s conditions, he withdrew himself from his brother Sir\nGawaine\u2019s fellowship, for he was vengeable, and where he hated he would\nbe avenged with murder, and that hated Sir Gareth.\n_Of the great royalty, and what officers were made at the feast of the\n wedding, and of the justs at the feast._\nSo it drew fast to Michaelmas, and thither came dame Liones the lady of\nthe castle perilous and her sister dame Linet, with Sir Gringamore\ntheir brother with them: for he had the conduct of these ladies. And\nthere they were lodged at the devise of king Arthur. And upon\nMichaelmas-day the bishop of Canterbury made the wedding betwixt Sir\nGareth and the lady Liones with great solemnity. And king Arthur made\nGaheris to wed the damsel Savage, that was dame Linet; and king Arthur\nmade Sir Agravaine to wed dame Liones\u2019 niece, a fair lady, her name was\ndame Laurel. And so when this solemnization was done, then there came\nin the green knight Sir Pertolope with thirty knights, and there he did\nhomage and fealty unto Sir Gareth, and these knights to hold of him for\nevermore. Also Sir Pertolope said, I pray you that at this feast I may\nbe your chamberlain. With a good will, said Sir Gareth, sith it liketh\nyou to take so simple an office. Then came in the red knight with\nthreescore knights with him, and did to Sir Gareth homage and fealty,\nand all those knights to hold of him for evermore, and then this Sir\nPerimones prayed Sir Gareth to grant him to be his chief butler at that\nhigh feast. I will well, said Sir Gareth, that ye have this office and\nit were better. Then came in Sir Persant of Inde with an hundred\nknights with him, and there he did homage and fealty unto Sir Gareth,\nand all his knights should do him service, and hold their lands of him\nfor ever; and there he prayed Sir Gareth to make him his sewer chief at\nthe feast. I will well, said Sir Gareth, that ye have it and it were\nbetter. Then came in the duke de la Rowse with an hundred knights with\nhim, and there he did homage and fealty unto Sir Gareth, and so to hold\ntheir lands of him for ever; and he required Sir Gareth that he might\nserve him of the wine that day at the feast. I will well, said Sir\nGareth, and it were better. Then came in the red knight of the red\nlawns, that was Sir Ironside, and he brought with him three hundred\nknights, and there he did homage and fealty, and all these knights to\nhold their lands of him for ever, and then he asked Sir Gareth to be\nhis carver. I will well, said Sir Gareth, and it please you. Then came\ninto the court thirty ladies, and all they seemed widows, and those\nthirty ladies brought with them many fair gentlewomen; and all they\nkneeled down at once unto king Arthur and to Sir Gareth, and there all\nthose ladies told the king how Sir Gareth had delivered them from the\ndolorous tower, and slew the brown knight without pity; and therefore\nwe and our heirs for evermore will do homage unto Sir Gareth of Orkney.\nSo then the kings and queens, princes, earls and barons, and many bold\nknights went unto meat, and well may ye wit that there was all manner\nof meat plenteously, all manner revels and games, with all manner of\nminstrelsy that was used in those days. Also there was great justs\nthree days. But the king would not suffer Sir Gareth to just because of\nhis new bride: for as the French book saith that dame Liones desired\nthe king that none that were wedded should just at that feast. So the\nfirst day there justed Sir Lamorak de Galis, for he overthrew thirty\nknights and did passing marvellously deeds of arms. And then king\nArthur made Sir Persant of Inde and his two brethren knights of the\nRound Table, to their lives\u2019 end, and gave them great lands. Also the\nsecond day there justed Tristram best, and he overthrew forty knights,\nand did there marvellous deeds of arms. And there king Arthur made\nIronside, that was the red knight of the red lawns, a knight of the\nTable Round unto his life\u2019s end, and gave him great lands. The third\nday there justed Sir Launcelot du Lake, and he overthrew fifty knights\nand did many marvellous deeds of arms, that all men wondered on him.\nAnd there king Arthur made the duke de la Rowse a knight of the Round\nTable to his life\u2019s end, and gave him great lands to spend. But when\nthese justs were done, Sir Lamorak and Sir Tristram departed suddenly\nand would not be known, for the which king Arthur and all the court\nwere sore displeased. And so they held the court forty days with great\nsolemnity. And this Sir Gareth was a noble knight, and a well ruled,\nand fair languaged.\nThus endeth this tale of syr Gareth of Orkeney that wedded dame Lyones\n of the castel peryllous. And also syr Gaheris wedded her syster dame\n Lynet, that was called the damoysel saueage. And syr Agrauayne wedded\n dame Laurel a fayr lady, and grete and myghty landes with grete\n rychesse gafe with them kyng Arthur, that ryally they myght lyue tyl\n their lyues ende.\nHere foloweth the viii. book the which is the first book of Sir\n Tristram de Lyones, & who was his fader & his moder, & hou he was\n borne and fosteryd. And how he was made knyghte.\n_How Sir Tristram de Liones was born, and how his mother died at his\n birth, wherefore she named him Tristram._\nIt was a king that hight Meliodas, and he was lord and king of the\ncountry of Liones, and this king Meliodas was a likely knight as any\nwas that time living. And by fortune he wedded king Mark\u2019s sister of\nCornwall; and she was called Elizabeth, that was called both good and\nfair. And at that time king Arthur reigned, and he was whole king of\nEngland, Wales, and Scotland, and of many other realms: howbeit there\nwere many kings that were lords of many countries, but all they held\ntheir lands of king Arthur. For in Wales were two kings, and in the\nnorth were many kings; and in Cornwall and in the west were two kings;\nalso in Ireland were two or three kings; and all were under the\nobeisance of king Arthur. So was the king of France, and the king of\nBritany, and all the lordships unto Rome. And the wife of this king\nMeliodas was a full meek lady, and well she loved her lord, and he her\nagain, and the time came that she should bear a child, so there was\ngreat joy betwixt them. Then was there a lady in that country that had\nloved king Meliodas long, and by no mean she never could get his love,\ntherefore she let ordain upon a day, as king Meliodas rode on hunting,\nfor he was a great chaser, and there by an enchantment she made him\nchase an hart by himself alone till that he came to an old castle, and\nthere anon he was taken prisoner by the lady that him loved. When\nElizabeth king Meliodas missed, her lord, she was nigh out of her wit,\nand she took a gentlewoman with her, and ran into the forest to seek\nher lord.\nAnd when she was far in the forest she might no farther, for she began\nto travail fast of her child. And she had many grimly throws, and her\ngentlewoman holp her all that she might, and so by miracle of our Lady\nof heaven she was delivered with great pains. But she had taken such\ncold for the default of help that deep draughts of death took her, that\nneeds she must die and depart out of this world, there was none other\nboot. And when this queen Elizabeth saw that there was none other boot,\nthen she made great dole, and said unto her gentlewoman, When ye see my\nlord king Meliodas recommend me unto him, and tell him what pains I\nendure here for his love, and how I must die here for his sake, for\ndefault of good help, and let him wit that I am full sorry to depart\nout of this world from him, therefore pray him to be friend to my soul.\nNow let me see my little child for whom I have had all this sorrow. And\nwhen she saw him she said thus: Ah my little son, thou hast murdered\nthy mother, and therefore I suppose, thou that art a murderer so young,\nthou art full likely to be a manly man in thine age. And because I\nshall die of the birth of thee, I charge thee, gentlewoman, that thou\nbeseech my lord king Meliodas, that when he is christened let call him\nTristram, that is as much to say as a sorrowful birth. And therewith\nthis queen gave up the ghost and died. Then the gentlewoman laid her\nunder the shadow of a great tree, and then she lapped the child as well\nas she might for cold. Right so there came the barons, following after\nthe queen, and when they saw that she was dead, and understood none\nother but the king was destroyed;\n_How the step-mother of Sir Tristram had ordained poison for to have\n poisoned Sir Tristram._\nThen certain of them would have slain the child, because they would\nhave been lords of the country of Liones. But then through the fair\nspeech of the gentlewoman, and by the means that she made, the most\npart of the barons would not assent thereto. And then they let carry\nhome the dead queen, and much dole was made for her. Then this\nmeanwhile Merlin delivered king Meliodas out of prison, on the morn\nafter his queen was dead. And so when the king was come home, the most\npart of the barons made great joy. But the sorrow that the king made\nfor his queen that might no tongue tell. So then the king let inter her\nrichly. And after he let christen his child as his wife had commanded\nafore her death. And then he let call him Tristram, the sorrowful born\nchild. Then the king Meliodas endured seven years without a wife, and\nall this time the young Tristram was nourished well. Then it befel that\nking Meliodas wedded king Howell\u2019s daughter of Britany, and anon she\nhad children of king Meliodas, then was she heavy and wroth that her\nchildren should not enjoy the country of Liones, wherefore this queen\nordained for to poison young Tristram. So she let poison to be put into\na piece of silver in the chamber where as Tristram and her children\nwere together, unto that intent that when Tristram was thirsty he\nshould drink that drink. And so it fell upon a day, the queen\u2019s son, as\nhe was in that chamber, espied the cup with poison, and he wend it had\nbeen good drink, and because the child was thirsty, he took the cup\nwith poison and drank freely, and therewithall suddenly the child\nbrast, and was dead. When the queen wist of the death of her son, wit\nye well that she was heavy. But yet the king understood nothing of her\ntreason. Notwithstanding the queen would not leave this, but eft she\nlet ordain more poison, and put it in a cup. And by fortune king\nMeliodas her husband found the cup with wine where was the poison, and\nhe that was much thirsty took the cup for to drink thereout. And as he\nwould have drunken thereof, the queen espied him, and then she ran unto\nhim and pulled the cup from him suddenly. The king marvelled why she\ndid so, and remembered him how her son was suddenly slain with poison.\nAnd then he took her by the hand, and said, Thou false traitress, thou\nshalt tell me what manner of drink this is, or else I shall slay thee.\nAnd therewith he pulled out his sword, and swore a great oath that he\nshould slay her but if she told him truth. Ah mercy my lord, said she,\nand I shall tell you all. And then she told him why she would have\nslain Tristram, because her children should enjoy his land. Well, said\nking Meliodas, and therefore shall ye have the law. And so she was\ncondemned by the assent of the barons to be burnt, and then was there\nmade a great fire. And right as she was at the fire to take her\nexecution young Tristram kneeled afore king Meliodas, and besought him\nto give him a boon. I will well, said the king again. Then said young\nTristram, Give me the life of thy queen, my step-mother. That is\nunrightfully asked, said king Meliodas, for thou ought of right to hate\nher, for she would have slain thee with that poison and she might have\nhad her will; and for thy sake most is my cause that she should die.\nSir, said Tristram, as for that, I beseech you of your mercy that ye\nwill forgive it her, and as for my part God forgive it her, and I do,\nand so much it liked your highness to grant me my boon for God\u2019s love I\nrequire you hold your promise. Since it is so, said the king, I will\nthat ye have her life. Then said the king, I give her to you, and go ye\nto the fire and take her and do with her what ye will. So Sir Tristram\nwent to the fire, and by the commandment of the king delivered her from\nthe death. But after that king Meliodas would never have ado with her\nas at bed and board. But by the good means of young Tristram he made\nthe king and her accorded. But then the king would not suffer young\nTristram to abide no longer in his court.\n_How Sir Tristram was sent into France, and had one to govern him named\n Gouvernail, and how he learned to harp, hawk, and hunt._\nAnd then he let ordain a gentleman that was well learned and taught;\nhis name was Gouvernail; and then he sent young Tristram with\nGouvernail into France, to learn the language, and nurture, and deeds\nof arms. And there was Tristram more than seven years. And then when he\nwell could speak the language, and had learned all that he might learn\nin that country, then he came home to his father king Meliodas again.\nAnd so Tristram learned to be an harper passing all other, that there\nwas none such called in no country, and so in harping and on\ninstruments of music he applied him in his youth for to learn. And\nafter as he growed in might and strength he laboured ever in hunting\nand in hawking, so that never gentleman more, that ever we heard tell\nof. And as the book saith, he began good measures of blowing of beasts\nof venery and beasts of chase, and all manner of vermains; and all\nthese terms we have yet of hawking and hunting. And therefore the book\nof venery, of hawking, and hunting, is called the book of Sir Tristram.\nWherefore, as me seemeth, all gentlemen that bear old arms ought of\nright to honour Sir Tristram for the goodly terms that gentlemen have\nand use, and shall to the day of doom, that thereby in a manner all men\nof worship may dissever a gentleman from a yeoman, and from a yeoman a\nvillain. For he that gentle is will draw unto him gentle taches, and to\nfollow the customs of noble gentlemen. Thus Sir Tristram endured in\nCornwall until he was big and strong, of the age of nineteen years. And\nthen the king Meliodas had great joy of Sir Tristram, and so had the\nqueen his wife. For ever after in her life, because Sir Tristram saved\nher from the fire, she did never hate him more after, but loved him\never after, and gave Tristram many great gifts; for every estate loved\nhim where that he went.\n_How Sir Marhaus came out of Ireland for to ask truage of Cornwall, or\n else he would fight therefore._\nThen it befel that king Anguish of Ireland sent to king Mark of\nCornwall for his truage, that Cornwall had paid many winters. And all\nthat time king Mark was behind of the truage for seven years. And king\nMark and his barons gave unto the messager of Ireland these words and\nanswer, that they would none pay; and bad the messager go unto his king\nAnguish, and tell him we will pay him no truage, but tell your lord,\nand he will always have truage of us of Cornwall, bid him send a trusty\nknight of his land that will fight for his right, and we shall find\nanother for to defend our right. With this answer the messagers\ndeparted into Ireland. And when king Anguish understood the answer of\nthe messagers, he was wonderly wroth. And then he called unto him Sir\nMarhaus, the good knight, that was nobly proved, and a knight of the\nTable Round. And this Sir Marhaus was brother unto the queen of\nIreland. Then the king said thus: Fair brother Sir Marhaus, I pray you\ngo into Cornwall for my sake, and do battle for our truage that of\nright we ought to have, and whatsoever ye spend ye shall have\nsufficiently more than ye shall need. Sir, said Marhaus, wit ye well\nthat I shall not be loth to do battle in the right of you and your land\nwith the best knight of the Table Round, for I know them for the most\npart what be their deeds, and for to advance my deeds and to increase\nmy worship, I will right gladly go unto this journey for our right.\nSo in all haste there was made purveyance for Sir Marhaus, and he had\nall things that to him needed, and so he departed out of Ireland, and\narrived up in Cornwall, even fast by the castle of Tintagil. And when\nking Mark understood that he was there arrived to fight for Ireland,\nthen made king Mark great sorrow when he understood that the good and\nnoble knight Sir Marhaus was come. For they knew no knight that durst\nhave ado with him. For at that time Sir Marhaus was called one of the\nfamousest and renowned knights of the world.\nAnd thus Sir Marhaus abode in the sea, and every day he sent unto king\nMark for to pay the truage that was behind of seven year, or else to\nfind a knight to fight with him for the truage. This manner of message\nSir Marhaus sent daily unto king Mark. Then they of Cornwall let make\ncries in every place, that what knight would fight for to save the\ntruage of Cornwall he should be rewarded so that he should fare the\nbetter the term of his life. Then some of the barons said to king Mark,\nand counselled him to send to the court of king Arthur for to seek Sir\nLauncelot du Lake, that was that time named for the marvellousest\nknight of all the world. Then there were some other barons that\ncounselled the king not to do so, and said that it was labour in vain,\nbecause Sir Marhaus was a knight of the Round Table, therefore any of\nthem will be loth to have ado with other, but if it were any knight at\nhis own request would fight disguised and unknown. So the king and all\nhis barons assented that it was no boot to seek any knight of the Round\nTable. This meanwhile came the language and the noise unto king\nMeliodas, how that Sir Marhaus abode battle fast by Tintagil, and how\nking Mark could find no manner knight to fight for him. When young\nTristram heard of this he was wroth and sore ashamed that there durst\nno knight in Cornwall have ado with Sir Marhaus of Ireland.\n_How Tristram enterprized the battle to fight for the truage of\n Cornwall, and how he was made knight._\nTherewithal Sir Tristram went unto his father king Meliodas, and asked\nhim counsel what was best to do for to recover from Cornwall truage.\nFor as me seemeth, said Sir Tristram, it were shame that Sir Marhaus,\nthe queen\u2019s brother of Ireland, should go away, unless that he were\nfought withall. As for that, said Sir Meliodas, wit ye well son\nTristram that Sir Marhaus is called one of the best knights of the\nworld, and knight of the Table Round, and therefore I know no knight in\nthis country that is able to match with him. Alas, said Sir Tristram,\nthat I am not made knight: and if Sir Marhaus should thus depart into\nIreland, may I never have worship, and I were made knight I should\nmatch him. And sir, said Tristram, I pray you give me leave to ride to\nking Mark, and so ye be not displeased of king Mark will I be made\nknight. I will well, said king Meliodas, that ye be ruled as your\ncourage will rule you.\nThen Sir Tristram thanked his father much. And then he made him ready\nto ride into Cornwall. In the meanwhile there came a messager with\nletters of love from king Faramon of France\u2019s daughter unto Sir\nTristram, that were full piteous letters, and in them were written many\ncomplaints of love. But Sir Tristram had no joy of her letters, nor\nregard unto her. Also she sent him a little brachet that was passing\nfair. But when the king\u2019s daughter understood that Tristram would not\nlove her, as the book saith, she died for sorrow. And then the same\nsquire that brought the letter and the brachet came again unto Sir\nTristram as after ye shall hear in the tale. So this young Sir Tristram\nrode unto his uncle king Mark of Cornwall. And when he came there he\nheard say that there would no knight fight with Sir Marhaus. Then went\nSir Tristram unto his uncle and said, Sir, if ye will give me the order\nof knighthood I will do battle with Sir Marhaus. What are ye? said the\nking, and from whence be ye come? Sir, said Tristram, I come from king\nMeliodas that wedded your sister, and a gentleman wit ye well I am.\nKing Mark beheld Sir Tristram, and saw that he was but a young man of\nage, but he was passingly well made and big. Fair sir, said the king,\nwhat is your name, and where were ye born? Sir, said he again, my name\nis Tristram, and in the country of Liones was I born. Ye say well, said\nthe king, and if ye will do this battle I shall make you knight.\nTherefore I come to you, said Sir Tristram, and for none other cause.\nBut then king Mark made him knight. And therewithal anon as he had made\nhim knight, he sent a messager unto Sir Marhaus with letters that said\nthat he had found a young knight ready for to take the battle to the\nuttermost. It may well be, said Sir Marhaus; but tell unto king Mark\nthat I will not fight with no knight but if he be of blood royal, that\nis to say either king\u2019s son or queen\u2019s son, born of a prince or\nprincess.\nWhen king Mark understood that, he sent for Sir Tristram de Liones and\ntold him what was the answer of Sir Marhaus. Then said Sir Tristram,\nSince that he sayeth so, let him wit that I am come of father\u2019s side\nand mother\u2019s side of as noble blood as he is. For, Sir, now shall ye\nknow that I am king Meliodas\u2019 son, born of your own sister dame\nElizabeth, that died in the forest in the birth of me. Yea! said king\nMark, ye are welcome fair nephew to me. Then in all the haste the king\nlet horse Sir Tristram and arm him in the best manner that might be had\nor gotten for gold or silver. And then king Mark sent unto Sir Marhaus,\nand did him to wit that a better born man than he was himself should\nfight with him, and his name is Sir Tristram de Liones, gotten of king\nMeliodas, and born of king Mark\u2019s sister. Then was Sir Marhaus glad and\nblithe that he should fight with such a gentleman. And so by the assent\nof king Mark and Sir Marhaus they let ordain that they should fight\nwithin an island nigh Sir Marhaus\u2019 ships; and so was Sir Tristram put\ninto a vessel both his horse and he, and all that to him belonged both\nfor his body and for his horse. Sir Tristram lacked nothing. And when\nking Mark and his barons of Cornwall beheld how young Sir Tristram\ndeparted with such a carriage to fight for the right of Cornwall, there\nwas neither man nor woman of worship but they wept to see and\nunderstand so young a knight to jeopard himself for their right.\n_How Sir Tristram arrived into the island for to furnish the battle\n with Sir Marhaus._\nSo to shorten this tale, when Sir Tristram was arrived within the\nisland he looked to the further side, and there he saw at an anchor six\nships nigh to the land, and under the shadow of the ships upon the land\nthere hoved the noble knight Sir Marhaus of Ireland. Then Sir Tristram\ncommanded his servant Gouvernail to bring his horse to the land, and\ndress his harness at all manner of rights. And then when he had so done\nhe mounted upon his horse; and when he was in his saddle well\napparelled, and his shield dressed upon his shoulder, Tristram asked\nGouvernail, Where is this knight that I shall have ado withall? Sir,\nsaid Gouvernail, see ye him not? I wend ye had seen him, yonder he\nhoveth under the shadow of his ships upon horseback, with his spear in\nhis hand, and his shield upon his shoulder. That is truth, said the\nnoble knight Sir Tristram, now I see him well enough. Then he commanded\nhis servant Gouvernail to go to his vessel again, and command me unto\nmine uncle king Mark, and pray him if that I be slain in this battle,\nfor to inter my body as him seemeth best, and as for me let him wit\nthat I will never yield me for cowardice; and if I be slain and flee\nnot, then have they lost no truage for me; and if so be that I flee or\nyield me as recreant, bid mine uncle never bury me in Christian\nburials. And upon thy life, said Sir Tristram to Gouvernail, come thou\nnot nigh this island till that thou see me overcome or slain, or else\nthat I win yonder knight. So either departed from other sore weeping.\n_How Sir Tristram fought against Sir Marhaus and achieved his battle,\n and how Sir Marhaus fled to his Ship._\nAnd then Sir Marhaus perceived Sir Tristram, and said thus: Young\nknight Sir Tristram, what doest thou here? Me sore repenteth of thy\ncourage, for wit thou well I have been assayed, and the best knights of\nthis land have been assayed of my hands, and also I have matched with\nthe best knights of the world, and therefore by my counsel return again\nunto thy vessel. And fair knight, and well proved knight, said Sir\nTristram, thou shalt well wit I may not forsake thee in this quarrel,\nfor I am for thy sake made knight. And thou shalt well wit that I am a\nking\u2019s son, born of a queen, and such promise I have made at mine\nuncle\u2019s request and mine own seeking, that I shall fight with thee unto\nthe uttermost, and deliver Cornwall from the old truage. And also wit\nthou well, Sir Marhaus, that this is the greatest cause that thou\ncouragest me to have ado with you, for thou art called one of the most\nrenowned knights of the world, and because of that noise and fame that\nthou hast, thou givest me courage to have ado with thee, for never yet\nwas I proved with good knight; and since I took the order of knighthood\nthis day I am well pleased that I may have ado with so good a knight as\nthou art. And now wit thou well, Sir Marhaus, that I cast me to get\nworship on thy body, and if that I be not proved, I trust I shall be\nworshipfully proved upon thy body, and to deliver the country of\nCornwall from all manner of truage from Ireland for ever. When Sir\nMarhaus had heard him say what he would, he said then thus again: Fair\nknight, since it is so that thou casteth to win worship of me, I let\nthee wit worship mayest thou none lose by me if thou mayest stand me\nthree strokes, for I let thee wit for my noble deeds, proved and seen,\nking Arthur made me knight of the Table Round. Then they began to\nfeuter their spears, and they met so fiercely together that they smote\neither other down both horse and all. But Sir Marhaus smote Sir\nTristram a great wound in the side with his spear, and then they\navoided their horses, and pulled out their swords, and threw their\nshields afore them, and then they lashed together as men that were wild\nand courageous. And when they had stricken so together long, then they\nleft their strokes, and foined at their breathes and visors; and when\nthey saw that that might not prevail them, then they hurtled together\nlike rams to bear either other down. Thus they fought still more than\nhalf a day, and either were wounded passing sore, that the blood ran\ndown freshly from them upon the ground. By then Sir Tristram waxed more\nfresher than Sir Marhaus, and better winded and bigger, and with a\nmighty stroke he smote Sir Marhaus upon the helm such a buffet, that it\nwent through his helm, and through the coif of steel, and through the\nbrain-pan, and the sword stuck so fast in the helm and in his brain-pan\nthat Sir Tristram pulled thrice at his sword or ever he might pull it\nout from his head, and there Marhaus fell down on his knees, the edge\nof Tristram\u2019s sword left in his brain-pan. And suddenly Sir Marhaus\nrose groveling, and threw his sword and his shield from him, and so ran\nto his ships and fled his way, and Sir Tristram had ever his shield and\nhis sword. And when Sir Tristram saw Sir Marhaus withdraw him, he said,\nAh sir knight of the Round Table, why withdrawest thou thee; thou doest\nthyself and thy kin great shame, for I am but a young knight, or now I\nwas never proved, and rather than I should withdraw me from thee, I had\nrather be hewn in an hundred pieces. Sir Marhaus answered no word, but\nwent his way sore groaning. Well sir knight, said Sir Tristram, I\npromise thee thy sword and thy shield shall be mine, and thy shield\nshall I wear in all places where I ride on mine adventures, and in the\nsight of king Arthur and all the Round Table.\n_How Sir Marhaus, after he was arrived in Ireland, died of the stroke\n that Tristram had given him, and how Tristram was hurt._\nAnon Sir Marhaus and his fellowship departed into Ireland. And as soon\nas he came to the king his brother he let search his wounds. And when\nhis head was searched, a piece of Sir Tristram\u2019s sword was found\ntherein, and might never be had out of his head for no surgeons, and so\nhe died of Sir Tristram\u2019s sword, and that piece of the sword the queen\nhis sister kept it for ever with her, for she thought to be revenged\nand she might.\nNow turn we again unto Sir Tristram, that was sore wounded, and full\nsore bled, that he might not within a little while when he had taken\ncold scarcely stir him of his limbs. And then he set him down softly\nupon a little hill, and bled fast. Then anon came Gouvernail his man\nwith his vessel, and the king and his barons came with procession\nagainst him, and when he was come to the land king Mark took him in his\narms, and the king and Sir Dinas the Seneschal led Sir Tristram into\nthe castle of Tintagil. And then was he searched in the best manner,\nand laid in his bed. And when king Mark saw his wounds he wept\nheartily, and so did all his lords. So God me help, said king Mark, I\nwould not for all my lands that my nephew died. So Sir Tristram lay\nthere a month and more, and ever he was like to die of that stroke that\nSir Marhaus smote him first with the spear. For, as the French book\nsaith, the spear\u2019s head was envenomed, that Sir Tristram might not be\nwhole. Then was king Mark and all his barons passing heavy, for they\ndeemed none other but that Sir Tristram should not recover. Then the\nking let send after all manner of leeches and surgeons, both unto men\nand women, and there was none that would behote him the life. Then came\nthere a lady that was a right wise lady, and she said plainly unto king\nMark and to Sir Tristram and to all his barons, that he should never be\nwhole, but if Sir Tristram went in the same country that the venom came\nfrom, and in that country should he be holpen or else never. Thus said\nthe lady unto the king. When king Mark understood that, he let purvey\nfor Sir Tristram a fair vessel, well victualled, and therein was put\nSir Tristram and Gouvernail with him, and Sir Tristram took his harp\nwith him, and so he was put into the sea to sail into Ireland, and so\nby good fortune he arrived up in Ireland, even fast by a castle where\nthe king and the queen was; and at his arrival he sat and harped in his\nbed a merry lay, such one heard they never none in Ireland afore that\ntime. And when it was told the king and the queen of such a knight that\nwas such an harper, anon the king sent for him, and let search his\nwounds, and then asked him his name. Then he answered, I am of the\ncountry of Liones, and my name is Tramtrist, that thus was wounded in a\nbattle as I fought for a lady\u2019s right. Truly, said king Anguish, ye\nshall have all the help in this land that ye may have here. But I let\nyou wit in Cornwall I had a great loss as ever had king, for there I\nlost the best knight of the world, his name was Marhaus, a full noble\nknight, and knight of the Table Round; and there he told Sir Tristram\nwherefore Sir Marhaus was slain. Sir Tristram made semblant as he had\nbeen sorry, and better knew he how it was than the king.\n_How Sir Tristram was put to the keeping of La Beale Isoud for to be\n healed of his wound._\nThen the king for great favour made Tramtrist to be put in his\ndaughter\u2019s ward and keeping, because she was a noble surgeon. And when\nshe had searched him she found in the bottom of his wound that therein\nwas poison, and so she healed him within a while, and therefore\nTramtrist cast great love to La Beale Isoud, for she was at that time\nthe fairest maid and lady of the world. And there Tramtrist learned her\nto harp, and she began to have a great fancy unto him. And at that time\nSir Palamides the Saracen was in that country, and well cherished with\nthe king and the queen. And every day Sir Palamides drew unto La Beale\nIsoud, and proffered her many gifts, for he loved her passingly well.\nAll that espied Tramtrist, and full well knew he Sir Palamides for a\nnoble knight and a mighty man. And wit ye well Sir Tramtrist had great\ndespite at Sir Palamides, for La Beale Isoud told Tramtrist that Sir\nPalamides was in will to be christened for her sake. Thus was there\ngreat envy betwixt Tramtrist and Sir Palamides. Then it befel that King\nAnguish let cry a great justs and a great tournament for a lady which\nwas called the lady of the lawns, and she was nigh cousin unto the\nking. And what man won her, three days after he should wed her, and\nhave all her lands. This cry was made in England, Wales, Scotland, and\nalso in France and in Britany. It befel upon a day La Beale Isoud came\nunto Sir Tramtrist and told him of this tournament. He answered and\nsaid, Fair lady, I am but a feeble knight, and but late I had been dead\nhad not your good ladyship been. Now, fair lady, what would ye I should\ndo in this matter? Well ye wot, my lady, that I may not just. Ah\nTramtrist, said La Beale Isoud, why will ye not have ado at that\ntournament? well I wot Sir Palamides shall be there and to do what he\nmay, and therefore Tramtrist I pray you for to be there, for else Sir\nPalamides is like to win the degree. Madam, said Tramtrist, as for that\nit may be so, for he is a proved knight, and I am but a young knight\nand late made, and the first battle that I did it mishapped me to be\nsore wounded as ye see. But and I wist ye would be my better lady, at\nthat tournament I will be, so that ye will keep my counsel, and let no\ncreature have knowledge that I shall just but yourself, and such as ye\nwill to keep your counsel; my poor person shall I jeopard there for\nyour sake, that peradventure Sir Palamides shall know when that I come.\nThereto, said La Beale Isoud, do your best, and as I can, said La Beale\nIsoud, I shall purvey horse and armour for you at my devise. As ye will\nso be it, said Sir Tramtrist, I will be at your commandment. So at the\nday of justs there came Sir Palamides with a black shield, and he\noverthrew many knights, that all the people had marvel of him. For he\nput to the worse Sir Gawaine, Gaheris, Agravaine, Bagdemagus, Kay,\nDodias le Savage, Sagramore le Desirous, Gumret le Petit, and Griflet\nle Fise de Dieu. All these the first day Sir Palamides strake down to\nthe earth. And then all manner of knights were adread of Sir Palamides,\nand many called him the knight with the black shield. So that day Sir\nPalamides had great worship. Then came king Anguish unto Tramtrist and\nasked him why he would not just. Sir, said he, I was but late hurt, and\nas yet I dare not adventure me. Then came there the same squire that\nwas sent from the king\u2019s daughter of France unto Sir Tristram. And when\nhe had espied Sir Tristram he fell flat to his feet. All that espied La\nBeale Isoud, what courtesy the squire made unto Sir Tristram. And\ntherewith all suddenly Sir Tristram ran unto his squire, whose name was\nHebes le Renoumes, and prayed him heartily in no wise to tell his name.\nSir, said Hebes, I will not discover your name but if ye command me.\n_How Sir Tristram won the degree at a tournament in Ireland, and there\n made Palamides to bear no harness in a year._\nThen Sir Tristram asked him what he did in those countries. Sir, he\nsaid, I came hither with Sir Gawaine for to be made knight, and if it\nplease you, of your hands that I may be made knight. Await upon me as\nto-morn, secretly, and in the field I shall make you a knight. Then had\nLa Beale Isoud great suspicion unto Tramtrist that he was some man of\nworship proved, and therewith she comforted herself, and cast more love\nunto him than she had done tofore. And so on the morn Sir Palamides\nmade him ready to come into the field as he did the first day. And\nthere he smote down the king with the hundred knights, and the king of\nScotland. Then had La Beale Isoud ordained and well arrayed Sir\nTramtrist in white horse and harness. And right so she let put him out\nat a privy postern, and so he came into the field as it had been a\nbright angel. And anon Sir Palamides espied him, and therewith he\nfeutered a spear unto Sir Tramtrist, and he again unto him. And there\nSir Tristram smote down Sir Palamides unto the earth. And then there\nwas a great noise of people: some said Sir Palamides had a fall, some\nsaid the knight with the black shield had a fall. And wit you well La\nBeale Isoud was passing glad. And then Sir Gawaine and his fellows nine\nhad marvel what knight it might be that had smitten down Sir Palamides.\nThen would there none just with Tramtrist, but all that were there\nforsook him, most and least. Then Sir Tristram made Hebes a knight, and\ncaused him to put himself forth, and did right well that day. So after\nSir Hebes held him with Sir Tristram. And when Sir Palamides had\nreceived this fall, wit ye well he was sore ashamed: and as privily as\nhe might he withdrew him out of the field. All that espied Sir\nTristram, and lightly he rode after Sir Palamides, and overtook him,\nand bad him turn, for better he would assay him or ever he departed.\nThen Sir Palamides turned him, and either lashed at other with their\nswords. But at the first stroke Sir Tristram smote down Palamides, and\ngave him such a stroke upon the head that he fell to the earth. So then\nTristram bad yield him and do his commandment, or else he would slay\nhim. When Sir Palamides beheld his countenance, he dread his buffets so\nthat he granted all his askings. Well said, said Sir Tristram, this\nshall be your charge. First upon pain of your life that ye forsake my\nlady La Beale Isoud, and in no manner wise that ye draw not to her.\nAlso this twelvemonth and a day that ye bear none armour nor none\nharness of war. Now promise me this, or here shalt thou die. Alas, said\nPalamides, for ever am I ashamed. Then he sware as Sir Tristram had\ncommanded him. Then for despite and anger Sir Palamides cut off his\nharness and threw them away. And so Sir Tristram turned again to the\ncastle where was La Beale Isoud, and by the way he met with a damsel\nthat asked after Sir Launcelot, that won the Dolorous Gard\nworshipfully, and this damsel asked Sir Tristram what he was: for it\nwas told her that it was he that smote down Sir Palamides, by whom the\nten knights of king Arthur were smitten down. Then the damsel prayed\nSir Tristram to tell her what he was, and whether that he were Sir\nLauncelot du Lake, for she deemed that there was no knight in the world\nmight do such deeds of arms but if it were Launcelot. Fair damsel, said\nSir Tristram, wit ye well that I am not Sir Launcelot, for I was never\nof such prowess, but in God is all, that he may make me as good a\nknight as the good knight Sir Launcelot. Now, gentle knight, said she,\nput up thy visor. And when she beheld his visage she thought she saw\nnever a better man\u2019s visage, nor a better faring knight. And then when\nthe damsel knew certainly that he was not Sir Launcelot, then she took\nher leave and departed from him. And then Sir Tristram rode privily\nunto the postern where kept him La Beale Isoud, and there she made him\ngood cheer, and thanked God of his good speed. So anon within a while\nthe king and the queen understood that it was Tramtrist that smote down\nSir Palamides; then was he much made of more than he was before.\n_How the queen espied that Sir Tristram had slain her brother Sir\n Marhaus by his sword, and in what jeopardy he was._\nThus was Sir Tramtrist long there well cherished with the king and the\nqueen, and namely with La Beale Isoud. So upon a day the queen and La\nBeale Isoud made a bath for Sir Tramtrist, and when he was in his bath\nthe queen and Isoud her daughter roamed up and down in the chamber, and\nthere whiles Gouvernail and Hebes attended upon Tramtrist, and the\nqueen beheld his sword there as it lay upon his bed. And then by unhap\nthe queen drew out his sword and beheld it a long while, and both they\nthought it a passing fair sword, but within a foot and an half of the\npoint there was a great piece thereof out broken of the edge. And when\nthe queen espied that gap in the sword, she remembered her of a piece\nof a sword that was found in the brain-pan of Sir Marhaus, the good\nknight that was her brother. Alas, then said she unto her daughter La\nBeale Isoud, this is the same traitor knight that slew my brother thine\nuncle. When Isoud heard her say so she was passing sore abashed, for\npassing well she loved Sir Tramtrist, and full well she knew the\ncruelness of her mother the queen. Anon therewithal the queen went unto\nher own chamber and sought her coffer, and there she took out the piece\nof the sword that was pulled out of Sir Marhaus\u2019 head after that he was\ndead. And then she ran with that piece of iron to the sword that lay\nupon the bed. And when she put that piece of steel and iron unto the\nsword, it was as meet as it might be when it was new broken. And then\nthe queen griped that sword in her hand fiercely, and with all her\nmight she ran straight upon Tramtrist, where he sat in his bath, and\nthere she had rived him through had not Sir Hebes gotten her in his\narms, and pulled the sword from her, and else she had thrust him\nthrough. Then when she was letted of her evil will, she ran to the king\nAnguish her husband, and said on her knees, Oh my lord, here have ye in\nyour house that traitor knight that slew my brother and your servant,\nthat noble knight Sir Marhaus. Who is that, said king Anguish, and\nwhere is he? Sir, she said, it is Sir Tramtrist, the same knight that\nmy daughter healed. Alas, said the king, therefore am I right heavy,\nfor he is a full noble knight as ever I saw in field. But I charge you,\nsaid the king to the queen, that ye have not ado with that knight, but\nlet me deal with him. Then the king went into the chamber unto Sir\nTramtrist, and then was he gone unto his chamber, and the king found\nhim all ready armed to mount upon his horse. When the king saw him all\nready armed to go unto horseback, the king said, Nay, Tramtrist, it\nwill not avail to compare thee against me. But thus much I shall do for\nmy worship and for thy love; in so much as thou art within my court, it\nwere no worship for me to slay thee, therefore upon this condition I\nwill give thee leave to depart from this court in safety, so thou wilt\ntell me who was thy father, and what is thy name, and if thou slew Sir\nMarhaus, my brother.\n_How Sir Tristram departed from the king and La Beale Isoud out of\n Ireland for to come into Cornwall._\nSir, said Tristram, now I shall tell you all the truth: my father\u2019s\nname is Meliodas, king of Liones, and my mother hight Elizabeth, that\nwas sister unto king Mark of Cornwall; and my mother died of me in the\nforest, and because thereof she commanded or she died that when I were\nchristened that they should christen me Tristram, and because I would\nnot be known in this country I turned my name, and let me call\nTramtrist; and for the truage of Cornwall I fought for mine uncle\u2019s\nsake, and for the right of Cornwall that ye had possessed many years.\nAnd wit ye well, said Tristram unto the king, I did the battle for the\nlove of mine uncle king Mark, and for the love of the country of\nCornwall, and for to increase mine honour. For that same day that I\nfought with Sir Marhaus I was made knight, and never or then did I no\nbattle with no knight, and from me he went alive, and left his shield\nand his sword behind. Truly, said the king, I may not say but ye did as\na knight should, and it was your part to do for your quarrel, and to\nincrease your worship as a knight should; howbeit I may not maintain\nyou in this country with my worship, unless that I should displease my\nbarons, and my wife, and her kin. Sir, said Tristram, I thank you of\nyour good lordship that I have had with you here, and the great\ngoodness my lady your daughter hath shewed me, and therefore, said Sir\nTristram, it may so happen that ye shall win more by my life than by my\ndeath, for in the parts of England it may happen I may do you service\nat some season that ye shall be glad that ever ye shewed me your good\nlordship. With more I promise you as I am true knight, that in all\nplaces I shall be my lady your daughter\u2019s servant and knight in right\nand in wrong, and I shall never fail her never to do as much as a\nknight may do. Also I beseech your good grace that I may take my leave\nat my lady your daughter, and at all the barons and knights. I will\nwell, said the king. Then Sir Tristram went unto La Beale Isoud and\ntook his leave of her. And then he told her all, what he was, and how\nhe had changed his name because he would not be known, and how a lady\ntold him that he should never be whole till he came into this country\nwhere the poison was made:\u2014Where through I was near my death, had not\nyour ladyship been. Oh gentle knight, said La Beale Isoud, full wo am I\nof thy departing, for I saw never man that I owed so good will to. And\ntherewithal she wept heartily. Madam, said Sir Tristram, ye shall\nunderstand that my name is Sir Tristram de Liones, son of king Meliodas\nand of his queen. And I promise you faithfully that I shall be all the\ndays of my life your knight. Gramercy, said La Beale Isoud, and I\npromise you there against that I shall not be married this seven years\nbut by your assent, and to whom that ye will I shall be married, him\nwill I have, and he will have me if ye will consent. And then Sir\nTristram gave her a ring and she gave him another, and therewith he\ndeparted from her, leaving her making great dole and lamentation. And\nhe straight went unto the court among all the barons, and there he took\nhis leave at most and least, and openly he said among them all, Fair\nlords, now it is so that I must depart. If there be any man here that I\nhave offended unto, or that any man be with me grieved, let complain\nhim here afore me or that ever I depart, and I shall amend it unto my\npower. And if there be any that will proffer me wrong, or say of me\nwrong or shame behind my back, say it now or never, and here is my body\nto make it good, body against body. And all they stood still, there was\nnot one that would say one word, yet were there some knights that were\nof the queen\u2019s blood, and of Sir Marhaus\u2019s blood, but they would not\nmeddle with him.\n_How Sir Tristram and king Mark hurt each other for the love of a\n knight\u2019s wife._\nSo Sir Tristram departed, and took the sea, and with good wind he\narrived up at Tintagil in Cornwall. And when king Mark was whole in his\nprosperity there came tidings that Sir Tristram was arrived and whole\nof his wounds; thereof was king Mark passing glad, and so were all the\nbarons. And when he saw his time, he rode unto his father king\nMeliodas, and there he had all the cheer that the king and the queen\ncould make him. And then largely king Meliodas and his queen parted of\ntheir lands and goods to Sir Tristram. Then by the licence of king\nMeliodas his father he returned again unto the court of king Mark, and\nthere he lived in great joy long time, until at the last there befel a\njealousy and an unkindness between king Mark and Sir Tristram, for they\nloved both one lady, and she was an earl\u2019s wife, that hight Sir\nSegwarides. And this lady loved Sir Tristram passing well, and he loved\nher again, for she was a passing fair lady, and that espied Sir\nTristram well. Then king Mark understood that, and was jealous, for\nking Mark loved her passingly well. So it fell upon a day, this lady\nsent a dwarf unto Sir Tristram, and bad him say that as he loved her\nthat he would be with her the next day following. Also she charged you\nthat ye come not to her but if ye be well armed, for her lover was\ncalled a good knight. Sir Tristram answered to the dwarf, Recommend me\nunto my lady, and tell her I will not fail but I will be with her the\nterm that she hath set me. And with this answer the dwarf departed. And\nking Mark espied that the dwarf was with Sir Tristram, upon message\nfrom Sir Segwarides\u2019s wife; then king Mark sent for the dwarf. And when\nhe was come he made the dwarf by force to tell him all, why and\nwherefore that he came on message to Sir Tristram. Now, said king Mark,\ngo where thou wilt, and upon pain of death that thou say no word that\nthou spakest with me. So the dwarf departed from the king. And that\nsame time that was set betwixt Sir Segwarides\u2019s wife and Sir Tristram,\nking Mark armed him, and made him ready, and took two knights of his\ncouncil with him, and so he rode afore, for to abide by the way, to\nawait upon Sir Tristram. And as Sir Tristram came riding upon his way,\nwith his spear in his hand, king Mark came hurtling upon him with his\ntwo knights suddenly. And all three smote him with their spears, and\nking Mark hurt Sir Tristram on the breast right sore; and then Sir\nTristram feutered his spear, and smote his uncle king Mark such a\nstroke that he rashed him to the earth, and bruised him that he lay\nstill in a swoon, and it was long or he might move himself; and then he\nran to the one knight, and oft to the other, and smote them to the cold\nearth, that they lay still. And therewithal Sir Tristram rode forth\nsore wounded to the lady, and found her abiding him at a postern.\n_How Sir Tristram came to the lady, and how her husband fought with Sir\n Tristram._\nAnd there she welcomed him fair, and so she let put up his horse in the\nbest wise, and then she unarmed him: and so they supped lightly, and\nwithin a while there came one that warned her that her lord was near\nhand, within a bow draft. So she made Sir Tristram to arise, and so he\narmed him, and took his horse, and so departed. By then was come Sir\nSegwarides, and when he found that there had been a knight, Ah, false\ntraitress, then he said, why hast thou betrayed me? And therewithal he\nswung out a sword, and said, But if thou tell me who hath been here,\nhere thou shalt die. Ah, my lord, mercy, said the lady, and held up her\nhands, saying, Slay me not, and I shall tell you all who hath been\nhere. Tell anon, said Sir Segwarides, to me all the truth. Anon for\ndread she said, Here was Sir Tristram with me, and by the way as he\ncame to me ward he was sore wounded. Ah, thou false traitress, said Sir\nSegwarides, where is he become? Sir, she said, he is armed, and\ndeparted on horseback, not yet hence half-a-mile. Ye say well, said\nSegwarides. Then he armed him lightly, and gat his horse, and rode\nafter Sir Tristram, that rode straightway unto Tintagil. And within a\nwhile he overtook Sir Tristram, and then he bad him turn, false traitor\nknight, and Sir Tristram anon turned him against him. And therewithal\nSegwarides smote Sir Tristram with a spear that it all to-brast; and\nthen he swung out his sword, and smote fast at Sir Tristram. Sir\nknight, said Sir Tristram, I counsel you that ye smite no more,\nhowbeit, for the wrongs that I have done you, I will forbear you as\nlong as I may. Nay, said Segwarides, that shall not be, for either thou\nshalt die or I. Then Sir Tristram drew out his sword, and hurtled his\nhorse unto him fiercely, and through the waist of the body he smote Sir\nSegwarides that he fell to the earth in a swoon. And so Sir Tristram\ndeparted and left him there, and so he rode unto Tintagil, and took his\nlodging secretly, for he would not be known that he was hurt. Also, Sir\nSegwarides\u2019s men rode after their master, whom they found lying in the\nfield sore wounded, and brought him home on his shield, and there he\nlay long or that he were whole, but at the last he recovered. Also king\nMark would not be aknown of, that Sir Tristram and he had met that\ntime. And as for Sir Tristram, he wist not that it had been king Mark\nthat had met with him. And so the king\u2019s assistance came to Sir\nTristram, to comfort him as he lay sick in his bed. But as long as king\nMark lived he loved never Sir Tristram after that: though there was\nfair speech, love was there none. And thus it passed many weeks and\ndays, and all was forgiven and forgotten. For Sir Segwarides durst not\nhave ado with Sir Tristram, because of his noble prowess, and also\nbecause he was nephew unto king Mark, therefore he let it over slip,\nfor he that hath a privy hurt is loth to have a shame outward.\n_How Sir Bleoberis demanded the fairest lady in king Mark\u2019s court, whom\n he took away, and how he was fought with._\nThen it befel upon a day, that the good knight Bleoberis de Ganis,\nbrother to Blamore de Ganis, and nigh cousin unto the good knight Sir\nLauncelot du Lake,\u2014this Bleoberis came unto the court of king Mark,\nand there he asked of king Mark a boon, to give him what gift he would\nask in his court. When the king heard him ask so, he marvelled of his\nasking, but because he was a knight of the Round Table, and of a great\nrenown, king Mark granted him his whole asking. Then, said Sir\nBleoberis, I will have the fairest lady in your court that me list to\nchoose. I may not say nay, said king Mark; now choose at your\nadventure. And so Sir Bleoberis did chose Sir Segwarides\u2019s wife, and\ntook her by the hand, and so went his way with her, and so he took his\nhorse and let set her behind his squire, and rode upon his way. When\nSir Segwarides heard tell that his lady was gone with a knight of king\nArthur\u2019s court, then anon he armed him, and rode after that knight for\nto rescue his lady. So when Bleoberis was gone with this lady, king\nMark and all the court was wroth that she was away. Then were there\ncertain ladies that knew that there was great love between Sir Tristram\nand her, and also that lady loved Sir Tristram above all other knights.\nThen there was one lady that rebuked Sir Tristram in the horriblest\nwise, and called him coward knight, that he would for shame of his\nknighthood see a lady so shamefully taken away from his uncle\u2019s court.\nBut Sir Tristram answered her thus: Fair lady, it is not my part to\nhave ado in such matters, while her lord and husband is present here.\nAnd if it had been that her lord had not been here in this court, then\nfor the worship of this court peradventure I would have been her\nchampion, and if so be Sir Segwarides speed not well, it may happen\nthat I will speak with that good knight or ever he pass from this\ncountry. Then within awhile came one of Sir Segwarides\u2019s squires, and\ntold in the court that Sir Segwarides was beaten sore and wounded to\nthe point of death: as he would have rescued his lady Sir Bleoberis\noverthrew him, and sore hath wounded him. Then was king Mark heavy\nthereof, and all the court. When Sir Tristram heard of this he was\nashamed and sore grieved. And then was he soon armed and on horseback,\nand Gouvernail his servant bare his shield and spear. And so as Sir\nTristram rode fast he met with Sir Andret his cousin, that by the\ncommandment of king Mark was sent to bring forth, and ever it lay in\nhis power two knights of king Arthur\u2019s court, that rode by the country\nto seek their adventures. When Sir Tristram saw Sir Andret he asked him\nwhat tidings. Truly, said Sir Andret, there was never worse with me,\nfor here by the commandment of king Mark I was sent to fetch two\nknights of king Arthur\u2019s court, and that one beat me and wounded me,\nand set nought by my message. Fair cousin, said Sir Tristram, ride on\nyour way, and if I may meet them it may happen I shall revenge you. So\nSir Andret rode into Cornwall, and Sir Tristram rode after the two\nknights, the which one hight Sagramore le Desirous, and that other\nhight Dodinas le Savage.\n_How Sir Tristram fought with two knights of the Round Table._\nThen within awhile Sir Tristram saw them afore him two likely knights.\nSir, said Gouvernail unto his master, Sir, I would counsel you not to\nhave ado with them, for they be two proved knights of Arthur\u2019s court.\nAs for that, said Sir Tristram, have ye no doubt but I will have ado\nwith them to encrease my worship, for it is many day sithen I did any\ndeeds of arms. Do as ye list, said Gouvernail. And therewithal anon Sir\nTristram asked them from whence they came, and whither they would, and\nwhat they did in those marches. Sir Sagramore looked upon Sir Tristram,\nand had scorn of his words, and asked him again, Fair knight, be ye a\nknight of Cornwall? Whereby ask ye it? said Sir Tristram. For it is\nseldom seen, said Sir Sagramore, that ye Cornish knights be valiant men\nof arms: for within these two hours there met us one of you Cornish\nknights, and great words he spake, and anon with little might he was\nlaid to the earth. And, as I trow, said Sir Sagramore, ye shall have\nthe same handsel that he had. Fair lords, said Sir Tristram, it may so\nhappen that I may better withstand than he did, and whether ye will or\nnill I will have ado with you, because he was my cousin that ye beat.\nAnd therefore here do your best; and wit ye well but if ye quit you the\nbetter here upon this ground one knight of Cornwall shall beat you\nboth. When Sir Dodinas le Savage heard him say so, he gat a spear in\nhis hand, and said, Sir knight, keep well thyself. And then they\ndeparted, and came together as it had been thunder. And Sir Dodinas\u2019\nspear brast in sunder, but Sir Tristram smote him with a more might,\nthat he smote him clean over the horse croup, that nigh he had broken\nhis neck. When Sir Sagramore saw his fellow have such a fall he\nmarvelled what knight he might be, and he dressed his spear with all\nhis might, and Sir Tristram against him, and they came together as the\nthunder, and there Sir Tristram smote Sir Sagramore a strong buffet,\nthat he bare his horse and him to the earth, and in the falling he\nbrake his thigh. When this was done Sir Tristram asked them, Fair\nknights, will ye any more? Be there no bigger knights in the court of\nking Arthur? It is to you shame to say of us knights of Cornwall\ndishonour, for it may happen a Cornish knight may match you. That is\ntruth, said Sir Sagramore, that have we well proved; but I require\nthee, said Sir Sagramore, tell us your right name, by the faith and\ntruth that ye owe to the high order of knighthood. Ye charge me with a\ngreat thing, said Sir Tristram, and sithen ye list to wit it, ye shall\nknow and understand that my name is Sir Tristram de Liones, king\nMeliodas\u2019 son, and nephew unto king Mark. Then were they two knights\nfain that they had met with Sir Tristram, and so they prayed him to\nabide in their fellowship. Nay, said Sir Tristram, for I must have ado\nwith one of your fellows, his name is Sir Bleoberis de Ganis. God speed\nyou well, said Sir Sagramore and Dodinas. Sir Tristram departed, and\nrode onward on his way, and then was he ware before him in a valley\nwhere rode Sir Bleoberis with Sir Segwarides\u2019s lady, that rode behind\nhis squire upon a palfrey.\n_How Sir Tristram fought with Sir Bleoberis for a lady, and how the\n lady was put to choice to whom she would go._\nThen Sir Tristram rode more than a pace until that he had overtaken\nhim. Then spake Sir Tristram: Abide, he said, knight of Arthur\u2019s court,\nbring again that lady, or deliver her to me. I will do neither, said\nSir Bleoberis, for I dread no Cornish knight so sore that me list to\ndeliver her. Why, said Sir Tristram, may not a Cornish knight do as\nwell as another knight? This same day two knights of your court, within\nthis three mile met with me, and or ever we departed they found a\nCornish knight good enough for them both. What were their names? said\nBleoberis. They told me, said Sir Tristram, that the one of them hight\nSir Sagramore le Desirous, and the other hight Dodinas le Savage. Ah,\nsaid Sir Bleoberis, have ye met with them? Truly they were two good\nknights, and men of great worship, and if ye have beat them both ye\nmust needs be a good knight: but if it so be that ye have beat them\nboth, yet shall ye not fear me, but ye shall beat me or ever ye have\nthis lady. Then defend you, said Sir Tristram. So they departed and\ncame together like thunder, and either bare other down, horse and all,\nto the earth. Then they avoided their horses and lashed together\neagerly with swords, and mightily, now tracing and traversing on the\nright hand and on the left hand more than two hours. And sometimes they\nrushed together with such a might that they lay both groveling on the\nground. Then Sir Bleoberis de Ganis start aback, and said thus: Now,\ngentle good knight, a while hold your hands and let us speak together.\nSay what ye will, said Sir Tristram, and I will answer you. Sir, said\nBleoberis, I would wit of whence ye be, and of whom ye be come, and\nwhat is your name? Truly, said Sir Tristram, I fear not to tell you my\nname: wit ye well I am king Meliodas\u2019 son, and my mother is king Mark\u2019s\nsister, and my name is Sir Tristram de Liones, and king Mark is mine\nuncle. Truly, said Bleoberis, I am right glad of you, for ye are he\nthat slew Marhaus, knight, hand for hand in an island for the truage of\nCornwall; also ye overcame Sir Palamides the good knight at a\ntournament in an island, where ye beat Sir Gawaine and his nine\nfellows. Wit ye well, said Sir Tristram, that I am the same knight. Now\nI have told you my name, tell me yours with good will. Wit ye well that\nmy name is Sir Bleoberis de Ganis, and my brother hight Sir Blamor de\nGanis, that is called a good knight, and we be sister\u2019s children unto\nmy lord Sir Launcelot du Lake, that we call one of the best knights of\nthe world. That is truth, said Sir Tristram; Sir Launcelot is called\npeerless of courtesy and of knighthood; and for his sake, said Sir\nTristram, I will not with my good will fight no more with you, for the\ngreat love I have to Sir Launcelot du Lake. In good faith, said\nBleoberis, as for me, I will be loth to fight with you. But since ye\nfollow me here to have this lady, I shall proffer you kindness,\ncourtesy, and gentleness, right here upon this ground. This lady shall\nbe betwixt us both, and to whom that she will go, let him have her in\npeace. I will well, said Tristram, for, as I deem, she will leave you\nand come to me. Ye shall prove it anon, said Bleoberis.\n_How the lady forsook Sir Tristram and abode with Sir Bleoberis, and\n how she desired to go to her husband._\nSo when she was set betwixt them both, she said these words unto Sir\nTristram: Wit ye well, Sir Tristram de Liones, that but late thou was\nthe man in the world that I most loved and trusted, and I wend thou\nhaddest loved me again above all ladies. But when thou sawest this\nknight lead me away, thou madest no cheer to rescue me, but suffered my\nlord Sir Segwarides to ride after me, but until that time I wend thou\nhaddest loved me, and therefore now I will leave thee, and never love\nthee more. And therewithal she went unto Sir Bleoberis. When Sir\nTristram saw her do so, he was wonderly wroth with that lady, and\nashamed to come to the court. Sir Tristram, said Sir Bleoberis, ye are\nin the default, for I hear, by this lady\u2019s words, she, before this day,\ntrusted you above all earthly knights, and, as she saith, ye have\ndeceived her; therefore, wit ye well, there may no man hold that will\naway, and rather than ye should be heartily displeased with me, I would\nye had her and she would abide with you. Nay, said the lady, I will\nnever go with him, for he that I loved most I wend he had loved me. And\ntherefore, Sir Tristram, she said, ride as thou came for though thou\nhaddest overcome this knight, as ye were likely, with thee never would\nI have gone. And I shall pray this knight so fair of his knighthood,\nthat or ever he pass this country he will lead me to the abbey where my\nlord Sir Segwarides lieth. Truly, said Bleoberis, I let you wit, good\nknight Sir Tristram, because king Mark gave me the choice of a gift in\nthis court, and so this lady liked me best, notwithstanding she is\nwedded and hath a lord, and I have fulfilled my quest, she shall be\nsent unto her husband again, and in especial most for your sake Sir\nTristram: and if she would go with you I would ye had her. I thank you,\nsaid Sir Tristram, but for her love I shall be ware what manner of lady\nI shall love or trust. For had her lord Sir Segwarides been away from\nthe court I should have been the first that should have followed you,\nbut since ye have refused me, as I am a true knight I shall her know\npassingly well that I shall love or trust. And so they took their leave\none from the other and departed. And so Sir Tristram rode unto\nTintagil, and Sir Bleoberis rode unto the abbey where Sir Segwarides\nlay sore wounded, and there he delivered his lady and departed as a\nnoble knight. And when Sir Segwarides saw his lady he was greatly\ncomforted. And then she told him that Sir Tristram had done great\nbattle with Sir Bleoberis, and caused him to bring her again. These\nwords pleased Sir Segwarides right well, that Sir Tristram would do so\nmuch; and so that lady told all the battle unto king Mark betwixt Sir\nTristram and Sir Bleoberis.\n_How King Mark sent Sir Tristram for La Beale Isoud toward Ireland, and\n how by fortune he arrived into England._\nThen when this was done king Mark cast always in his heart how he might\ndestroy Sir Tristram. And then he imagined in himself to send Sir\nTristram into Ireland for La Beale Isoud. For Sir Tristram had so\npraised her beauty and her goodness that king Mark said he would wed\nher, whereupon he prayed Sir Tristram to take his way into Ireland for\nhim on message. And all this was done to the intent to slay Sir\nTristram. Notwithstanding, Sir Tristram would not refuse the message\nfor no danger nor peril that might fall for the pleasure of his uncle,\nbut to go he made him ready in the most goodliest wise that might be\ndevised. For Sir Tristram took with him the most goodliest knights that\nhe might find in the court, and they were arrayed after the guise that\nwas then used in the goodliest manner. So Sir Tristram departed and\ntook the sea with all his fellowship. And anon as he was in the broad\nsea, a tempest took him and his fellowship and drove them back into the\ncoast of England, and there they arrived fast by Camelot, and full fain\nthey were to take the land. And when they were landed Sir Tristram set\nup his pavilion upon the land of Camelot, and there he let hang his\nshield upon the pavilion. And that day came two knights of king\nArthur\u2019s, that one was Sir Ector de Maris, and Sir Morganor. And they\ntouched the shield and bad him come out of the pavilion for to just,\nand he would just. Ye shall be answered, said Sir Tristram, and ye will\ntarry a little while. So he made him ready, and first he smote down Sir\nEctor de Maris, and after he smote down Sir Morganor, all with one\nspear, and sore bruised them. And when they lay upon the earth they\nasked Sir Tristram what he was, and of what country he was knight. Fair\nlords, said Sir Tristram, wit ye well that I am of Cornwall. Alas, said\nSir Ector, now am I ashamed that ever any Cornish knight should\novercome me. And then for despite Sir Ector put off his armour from\nhim, and went on foot, and would not ride.\n_How king Anguish of Ireland was summoned to come unto king Arthur\u2019s\n court for treason._\nThen it fell that Sir Bleoberis and Sir Blamor de Ganis that were\nbrethren, they had summoned the king Anguish of Ireland to come to\nArthur\u2019s court, upon pain of forfeiture of king Arthur\u2019s good grace.\nAnd if the king of Ireland came not in at the day assigned and set, the\nking should lose his lands. So by it happened that at the day assigned,\nking Arthur neither Sir Launcelot might not be there for to give the\njudgment, for king Arthur was with Sir Launcelot at the castle Joyous\nGard. And so king Arthur assigned king Carados and the king of Scots to\nbe there that day as judges. So when the kings were at Camelot king\nAnguish of Ireland was come to know his accusers. Then was there Blamor\nde Ganis, and appealed the king of Ireland of treason, that he had\nslain a cousin of his in his court in Ireland by treason. The king was\nsore abashed of his accusation, for why? he was come at the summoning\nof king Arthur, and or that he came at Camelot he wist not wherefore he\nwas sent after. And when the king heard Sir Blamor say his will, he\nunderstood full well there was none other remedy but to answer him\nknightly. For the custom was such in those days, that and any man were\nappealed of any treason or murder, he should fight body for body, or\nelse to find another knight for him. And all manner of murderers in\nthose days were called treason. So when king Anguish understood his\naccusing he was passing heavy, for he knew Sir Blamor de Ganis that he\nwas a noble knight, and of noble knights come. Then the king of Ireland\nwas simply purveyed of his answer, therefore the judges gave him\nrespite by the third day to give his answer. So the king departed unto\nhis lodging. The mean while there came a lady by Sir Tristram\u2019s\npavilion making great dole. What aileth you, said Sir Tristram, that ye\nmake such dole? Ah, fair knight, said the lady, I am ashamed unless\nthat some good knight help me, for a great lady of worship sent by me a\nfair child and a rich unto Sir Launcelot du Lake, and hereby there met\nwith me a knight and threw me down from my palfrey, and took away the\nchild from me. Well my lady, said Sir Tristram, and for my lord Sir\nLauncelot\u2019s sake I shall get you that child again, or else I shall be\nbeaten for it. And so Sir Tristram took his horse, and asked the lady\nwhich way the knight rode. And then she told him. And he rode after\nhim, and within a mile he overtook that knight. And then Sir Tristram\nbad him turn and give again the child.\n_How Sir Tristram rescued a child from a knight, and how Gouvernail\n told him of king Anguish._\nThe knight turned his horse, and he made him ready for to fight. And\nthen Sir Tristram smote him with a sword such a buffet that he tumbled\nto the earth. And then he yielded him unto Sir Tristram. Then come thy\nway, said Sir Tristram, and bring the child to the lady again. So he\ntook his horse meekly and rode with Sir Tristram, and then by the way\nSir Tristram asked him his name. Then he said, My name is Breuse Saunce\nPit\u00e9. So when he had delivered that child to the lady he said, Sir, as\nin this the child is well remedied. Then Sir Tristram let him go again,\nthat sore repented him after, for he was a great foe unto many good\nknights of king Arthur\u2019s court. Then when Sir Tristram was in his\npavilion, Gouvernail his man came and told him how that king Anguish of\nIreland was come thither, and he was put in great distress, and there\nGouvernail told Sir Tristram how king Anguish was summoned and appealed\nof murder. Truly, said Sir Tristram, these be the best tidings that\never came to me this seven year, for now shall the king of Ireland have\nneed of my help, for I dare say there is no knight in this country that\nis not of Arthur\u2019s court dare do battle with Sir Blamor de Ganis, and\nfor to win the love of the king of Ireland I will take the battle upon\nme, and therefore Gouvernail bring me, I charge thee, to the king. Then\nGouvernail went unto king Anguish of Ireland and saluted him fair. The\nking welcomed him and asked him what he would. Sir, said Gouvernail,\nhere is a knight near hand that desireth to speak with you: he bad me\nsay he would do you service. What knight is he, said the king. Sir, he\nsaid, it is Sir Tristram de Liones, that for your good grace ye shewed\nhim in your lands will reward you in these countries. Come on fellow,\nsaid the king, with me anon, and shew me unto Sir Tristram. So the king\ntook a little hackney and but few fellowship with him until he came\nunto Sir Tristram\u2019s pavilion. And when Sir Tristram saw the king, he\nran unto him and would have holden his stirrup. But the king lept from\nhis horse lightly, and either halsed other in arms. My gracious lord,\nsaid Sir Tristram, gramercy of your great goodnesses shewed unto me in\nyour marches and lands: and at that time I promised you to do my\nservice and ever it lay in my power. And gentle knight, said the king\nunto Sir Tristram, now have I great need of you; never had I so great\nneed of no knight\u2019s help. How so, my good lord? said Sir Tristram. I\nshall tell you, said the king. I am summoned and appealed from my\ncountry for the death of a knight that was kin unto the good knight Sir\nLauncelot, wherefore Sir Blamor de Ganis, brother to Sir Bleoberis,\nhath appealed me to fight with him, other to find a knight in my stead.\nAnd well I wot, said the king, these that are come of king Ban\u2019s blood,\nas Sir Launcelot and these other, are passing good knights, and hard\nmen for to win in battle as any that I know now living. Sir, said Sir\nTristram, for the good lordship ye shewed me in Ireland, and for my\nlady your daughter\u2019s sake, La Beale Isoud, I will take the battle for\nyou upon this condition that ye shall grant me two things: that one is,\nthat ye shall swear to me that ye are in the right, that ye were never\nconsenting to the knight\u2019s death; Sir, then, said Sir Tristram, when\nthat I have done this battle, if God give me grace that I speed, that\nye shall give me a reward, what thing reasonable that I will ask of\nyou. Truly, said the king, ye shall have whatsoever ye will ask. It is\nwell said, said Sir Tristram.\n_How Sir Tristram fought for Sir Anguish and overcame his adversary,\n and how his adversary would never yield him._\nNow make your answer that your champion is ready, for I shall die in\nyour quarrel rather than to be recreant. I have no doubt of you, said\nthe king, that and ye should have ado with Sir Launcelot du Lake. Sir,\nsaid Sir Tristram, as for Sir Launcelot, he is called the noblest\nknight of the world, and wit ye well that the knights of his blood are\nnoble men and dread shame; and as for Sir Bleoberis, brother to Sir\nBlamor, I have done battle with him, therefore upon my head it is no\nshame to call him a good knight. It is noised, said the king, that\nBlamor is the hardier knight. Sir, as for that, let him be, he shall\nnever be refused, and as he were the best knight that now beareth\nshield or spear. So king Anguish departed unto king Carados and the\nkings that were that time as judges, and told them that he had found\nhis champion ready. And then by the commandments of the kings Sir\nBlamor de Ganis and Sir Tristram were sent for, to hear the charge. And\nwhen they were come before the judges, there were many kings and\nknights beheld Sir Tristram, and much speech they had of him because he\nslew Sir Marhaus the good knight, and because he forjusted Sir\nPalamides the good knight. So when they had taken their charge they\nwithdrew them for to make them ready to do battle. Then said Sir\nBleoberis to his brother Sir Blamor, Fair dear brother, remember of\nwhat kin we be come of, and what a man is Sir Launcelot du Lake,\nneither further nor nearer but brothers\u2019 children, and there was never\nnone of our kin that ever was shamed in battle, and rather suffer\ndeath, brother, than to be shamed. Brother, said Blamor, have ye no\ndoubt of me, for I shall never shame none of my blood, how be it I am\nsure that yonder knight is called a passing good knight, as of his time\none of the world, yet shall I never yield me, nor say the loth word:\nwell may he happen to smite me down with his great might of chivalry,\nbut rather shall he slay me than I shall yield me as recreant. God\nspeed you well, said Bleoberis, for ye shall find him the mightiest\nknight that ever ye had ado withall, for I know him, for I have had ado\nwith him. God me speed, said Blamor de Ganis. And therewith he took his\nhorse at the one end of the lists, and Sir Tristram at the other end of\nthe lists, and so they feutred their spears and came together as it had\nbeen thunder, and there Sir Tristram through great might smote down Sir\nBlamor and his horse to the earth. Then anon Sir Blamor avoided his\nhorse, and pulled out his sword and threw his shield afore him, and bad\nSir Tristram alight; for though an horse hath failed me, I trust the\nearth will not fail me. And then Sir Tristram alight and dressed him\nunto battle, and there they lashed together strongly as racing and\ntracing, foining and dashing many sad strokes, that the kings and\nknights had great wonder that they might stand, for ever they fought\nlike wood men, so that there were never knights seen fight more\nfiercely than they did, for Sir Blamor was so hasty that he would have\nno rest, that all men wondered that they had breath to stand on their\nfeet; and all the place was bloody that they fought in. And at the\nlast, Sir Tristram smote Sir Blamor such a buffet upon the helm that he\nthere fell down upon his side, and Sir Tristram stood and beheld him.\n_How Sir Blamor desired Tristram to slay him, and how Sir Tristram\n spared him, and how they took appointment._\nThen when Sir Blamor might speak, he said thus: Sir Tristram de Liones,\nI require thee, as thou art a noble knight, and the best knight that\never I found, that thou wilt slay me out, for I would not live to be\nmade lord of all the earth, for I had lever die with worship than live\nwith shame; and needs, Sir Tristram, thou must slay me, or else thou\nshalt never win the field, for I will never say the loth word. And\ntherefore if thou dare slay me, slay me I require thee. When Sir\nTristram heard him say so knightly, he wist not what to do with him; he\nremembering him of both parties; of what blood he was come, and for Sir\nLauncelot\u2019s sake he would be full loth to slay him, and in the other\nparty in no wise he might not choose but he must make him to say the\nloth word, or else to slay him. Then Sir Tristram start aback, and went\nto the kings that were judges, and there he kneeled down before them,\nand besought them for their worships, and for king Arthur\u2019s, and Sir\nLauncelot\u2019s sake, that they would take this matter in their hands. For\nmy fair lords, said Sir Tristram, it were shame and pity that this\nnoble knight that yonder lieth should be slain, for ye hear well shamed\nwill he not be, and I pray to God that he never be slain nor shamed for\nme. And as for the king for whom I fight for, I shall require him, as I\nam his true champion and true knight in this field, that he will have\nmercy upon this good knight. Truly, said king Anguish to Sir Tristram,\nI will for your sake be ruled as ye will have me. For I know you for my\ntrue knight. And therefore I will heartily pray the kings that be here\nas judges to take it in their hands. And the kings that were judges\ncalled Sir Bleoberis to them, and asked him his advice. My lords, said\nBleoberis, though my brother be beaten, and hath the worse through\nmight of arms, I dare say, though Sir Tristram hath beaten his body he\nhath not beaten his heart, and I thank God, he is not shamed this day.\nAnd rather than he should be shamed I require you, said Bleoberis, let\nSir Tristram slay him out. It shall not be so, said the kings, for his\npart adversary, both the king and the champion, have pity of Sir\nBlamor\u2019s knighthood. My lords, said Bleoberis, I will right well as ye\nwill.\nThen the kings called the king of Ireland, and found him good and\ntreatable. And then, by all their advices, Sir Tristram and Sir\nBleoberis took up Sir Blamor, and the two brethren were accorded with\nking Anguish, and kissed and made friends for ever. And then Sir Blamor\nand Sir Tristram kissed together, and there they made their oaths that\nthey would never none of them two brethren fight with Sir Tristram, and\nSir Tristram made the same oath. And for that gentle battle all the\nblood of Sir Launcelot loved Sir Tristram for ever.\nThen king Anguish and Sir Tristram took their leave, and sailed into\nIreland with great nobleness and joy. So when they were in Ireland the\nking let make it known throughout all the land, how and in what manner\nSir Tristram had done for him. Then the queen and all that there were\nmade the most of him that they might. But the joy that La Beale Isoud\nmade of Sir Tristram there might no tongue tell, for of men earthly she\nloved him most.\n_How Sir Tristram demanded La Beale Isoud for king Mark, and how Sir\n Tristram and Isoud drank the love drink._\nThen upon a day king Anguish asked Sir Tristram why he asked not his\nboon, for whatsoever he had promised him he should have it without\nfail. Sir, said Sir Tristram, now is it time, this is all that I will\ndesire, that ye will give me La Beale Isoud your daughter, not for\nmyself, but for mine uncle king Mark, that shall have her to wife, for\nso have I promised him. Alas, said the king, I had lever than all the\nland that I have ye would wed her yourself. Sir, and I did, then were I\nshamed for ever in this world, and false of my promise. Therefore, said\nSir Tristram, I pray you hold your promise that ye promised me, for\nthis is my desire, that ye will give me La Beale Isoud to go with me\ninto Cornwall, for to be wedded to king Mark mine uncle. As for that,\nsaid king Anguish, ye shall have her with you, to do with her what it\nplease you, that is for to say if that ye list to wed her yourself,\nthat is to me levest: and if ye will give her unto king Mark your\nuncle, that is in your choice.\nSo to make a short conclusion, La Beale Isoud was made ready to go with\nSir Tristram, and dame Bragwaine went with her for her chief\ngentlewoman, with many other. Then the queen, Isoud\u2019s mother, gave to\nher and dame Bragwaine, her daughter\u2019s gentlewoman, and unto\nGouvernail, a drink, and charged them that what day king Mark should\nwed, that same day they should give him that drink, so that king Mark\nshould drink to La Beale Isoud; and then, said the queen, I undertake\neither shall love other the days of their life. So this drink was given\nunto dame Bragwaine and unto Gouvernail. And then anon Sir Tristram\ntook the sea and La Beale Isoud; and when they were in their cabin, it\nhapped so that they were thirsty, and they saw a little flacket of gold\nstand by them, and it seemed by the colour and the taste that it was\nnoble wine. Then Sir Tristram took the flacket in his hand, and said,\nMadam Isoud, here is the best drink that ever ye drank, that dame\nBragwaine your maiden, and Gouvernail my servant, have kept for\nthemselves. Then they laughed and made good cheer, and either drank to\nother freely, and they thought never drink that ever they drank to\nother was so sweet nor so good. But by that their drink was in their\nbodies, they loved either other so well that never their love departed\nfor weal neither for woe. And thus it happed the love first betwixt Sir\nTristram and La Beale Isoud, the which love never departed the days of\ntheir life. So then they sailed till by fortune they came nigh a castle\nthat hight Pluere, and thereby arrived for to repose them, weening to\nthem to have had good harbourage. But anon as Sir Tristram was within\nthe castle they were taken prisoners, for the custom of the castle was\nsuch, who that rode by that castle, and brought any lady, he must needs\nfight with the lord, that hight Breunor. And if it were so that Breunor\nwan the field, then the knight stranger and his lady he put to death,\nwhat that ever they were; and if it were so that the strange knight wan\nthe field of Sir Breunor, then should he die and his lady both. This\ncustom was used many winters, for it was called the Castle Pluere, that\nis to say the weeping castle.\n_How Sir Tristram and Isoud were in prison, and how he fought for her\n beauty, and smote off another lady\u2019s head._\nThus as Sir Tristram and La Beale Isoud were in prison, it happed a\nknight and a lady came unto them where they were, to cheer them. I have\nmarvel, said Tristram unto the knight and the lady, what is the cause\nthe lord of this castle holdeth us in prison: it was never the custom\nof no place of worship that ever I came in, that when a knight and a\nlady asked harbour, and they to receive them, and after to destroy them\nthat be his guests. Sir, said the knight, this is the old custom of\nthis castle, that when a knight cometh here, he must needs fight with\nour lord, and he that is the weaker must lose his head. And when that\nis done, if his lady that he bringeth be fouler than our lord\u2019s wife,\nshe must lose her head: and if she be fairer proved than is our lady,\nthen shall the lady of this castle lose her head. Now, said Sir\nTristram, this is a foul custom and a shameful. But one advantage have\nI, said Sir Tristram, I have a lady is fair enough, fairer saw I never\nin all my life days, and I doubt not for lack of beauty she shall not\nlose her head, and rather than I should lose my head I will fight for\nit on a fair field. Wherefore, sir knight, I pray you tell your lord\nthat I will be ready as to-morn with my lady, and myself to battle, if\nit be so I may have my horse and mine armour. Sir, said that knight, I\nundertake that your desire shall be sped right well.\nAnd then he said, Take your rest, and look that ye be up by times to\nmake you ready and your lady, for ye shall want no thing that you\nbehoveth. And therewith he departed, and on the morn betimes that same\nknight came to Sir Tristram and fetched him out and his lady, and\nbrought him horse and armour that was his own, and bad him make him\nready to the field, for all the estates and commons of that lordship\nwere there ready to behold that battle and judgment. Then came Sir\nBreunor, the lord of that castle, with his lady in his hand muffled,\nand asked Sir Tristram where was his lady:\u2014For and thy lady be fairer\nthan mine, with thy sword smite off my lady\u2019s head, and if my lady be\nfairer than thine, with my sword I must strike off her head. And if I\nmay win thee, yet shall thy lady be mine, and thou shalt lose thy head.\nSir, said Tristram, this is a foul custom and horrible; and rather than\nmy lady should lose her head, yet had I lever lose my head. Nay, nay,\nsaid Sir Breunor, the ladies shall be first shewed together, and the\none shall have her judgment. Nay, I will not so, said Sir Tristram, for\nhere is none that will give righteous judgment. But I doubt not, said\nSir Tristram, my lady is fairer than thine, and that will I prove and\nmake good with my hand. And whosoever he be that will say the contrary\nI will prove it on his head. And therewith Sir Tristram shewed La Beale\nIsoud, and turned her thrice about with his naked sword in his hand.\nAnd when Sir Breunor saw that, he did the same wise turn his lady. But\nwhen Sir Breunor beheld La Beale Isoud, him thought he never saw a\nfairer lady, and then he dread his lady\u2019s head should be off. And so\nall the people that were there present gave judgment that La Beale\nIsoud was the fairer lady, and the better made. How now, said Sir\nTristram, me seemeth it were pity that my lady should lose her head,\nbut because that thou and she of long time have used this wicked\ncustom, and by you both there have many good knights and ladies been\ndestroyed, for that cause it were no loss to destroy you both. Truly,\nsaid Sir Breunor, for to say the sooth, thy lady is fairer than mine,\nand that me sore repenteth. And so I hear the people privily say; for\nof all women I saw none so fair, and therefore if thou wilt slay my\nlady, I doubt not but I shall slay thee and have thy lady. Thou shalt\nwin her, said Sir Tristram, as dear as ever knight won lady, and\nbecause of thine own judgment, as thou wouldest have done to my lady if\nthat she had been fouler, and because of the evil custom, give me thy\nlady, said Tristram. And therewithall Sir Tristram strode unto him and\ntook his lady from him, and with an awk stroke he smote off her head\nclean. Well knight, said Sir Breunor, now hast thou done me a despite.\n_How Sir Tristram fought with Sir Breunor, and at the last smote off\n his head._\nNow take thy horse: since I am ladyless I will win thy lady and I may.\nThen they took their horses and came together as it had been the\nthunder; and Sir Tristram smote Sir Breunor clean from his horse, and\nlightly he rose up; and as Sir Tristram came again by him he thrust his\nhorse throughout both the shoulders, that his horse hurled here and\nthere and fell dead to the ground. And ever Sir Breunor ran after to\nhave slain Sir Tristram, but Sir Tristram was light and nimble and\nvoided his horse lightly. And or ever Sir Tristram might dress his\nshield and his sword, the other gave him three or four sad strokes.\nThen they rushed together like two boars, tracing and traversing\nmightily and wisely as two noble knights. For this Sir Breunor was a\nproved knight, and had been, or then, the death of many good knights,\nthat it was pity that he had so long endured. Thus they fought, hurling\nhere and there nigh two hours, and either were wounded sore. Then at\nthe last Sir Breunor rushed upon Sir Tristram, and took him in his\narms, for he trusted much in his strength. Then was Sir Tristram called\nthe strongest and the highest knight of the world, for he was called\nbigger than Sir Launcelot, but Sir Launcelot was better breathed. So\nanon Sir Tristram thrust Sir Breunor down groveling, and then he\nunlaced his helm and strake off his head. And then all they that longed\nto the castle came to him and did him homage and fealty, praying him\nthat he would abide there still a little while to fordo that foul\ncustom. Sir Tristram granted thereto. The meanwhile one of the knights\nof the castle rode unto Sir Galahad, the haut prince, the which was Sir\nBreunor\u2019s son, which was a noble knight, and told him what misadventure\nhis father had and his mother.\n_How Sir Galahad fought with Sir Tristram, and how Sir Tristram yielded\n him and promised to fellowship with Launcelot._\nThen came Sir Galahad and the king with the hundred knights with him,\nand this Sir Galahad proffered to fight with Sir Tristram hand for\nhand. And so they made them ready to go unto battle on horseback with\ngreat courage. Then Sir Galahad and Sir Tristram met together so hard\nthat either bare other down, horse and all, to the earth. And then they\navoided their horses as noble knights, and dressed their shields and\ndrew their swords with ire and rancour, and they lashed together many\nsad strokes, and one while striking, another while foining, tracing and\ntraversing as noble knights, thus they fought long, near half a day,\nand either were sore wounded. At the last Sir Tristram waxed light and\nbig, and doubled his strokes, and drove Sir Galahad aback on the one\nside and on the other, so that he was like to have been slain. With\nthat came the king with the hundred knights, and all that fellowship\nwent fiercely upon Sir Tristram. When Sir Tristram saw them coming upon\nhim, then he wist well he might not endure. Then as a wise knight of\nwar, he said to Sir Galahad the haut prince, Sir, ye shew to me no\nknighthood, for to suffer all your men to have ado with me all at once,\nand as me seemeth ye be a noble knight of your hands, it is a great\nshame to you. Truly, said Sir Galahad, there is none other way but thou\nmust yield thee to me, other else to die, said Sir Galahad to Sir\nTristram. I will rather yield me to you than die, for that is more for\nthe might of your men than for the might of your hands. And therewith\nSir Tristram took his own sword by the point, and put the pommel in the\nhand of Sir Galahad. Therewithall came the king with the hundred\nknights, and hard began to assail Sir Tristram. Let be, said Sir\nGalahad, be ye not so hardy to touch him, for I have given this knight\nhis life. That is your shame, said the king with the hundred knights;\nhath he not slain your father and your mother? As for that, said Sir\nGalahad, I may not blame him greatly, for my father had him in prison,\nand enforced him to do battle with him, and my father had such a\ncustom, that was a shameful custom, that what knight came there to ask\nharbour, his lady must needs die but if she were fairer than my mother,\nand if my father overcame that knight he must needs die. This was a\nshameful custom and usage, a knight for his harbour asking to have such\nharbourage. And for this custom I would never draw about him. Truly,\nsaid the king, this was a shameful custom. Yea, said Sir Galahad, so\nseemed me, and me seemed it had been great pity that this knight should\nhave been slain, for I dare say he is the noblest man that beareth\nlife, but if it were Sir Launcelot du Lake. Now fair knight, said Sir\nGalahad, I require thee tell me thy name, and of whence thou art, and\nwhither thou wilt. Sir, he said, my name is Sir Tristram de Liones, and\nfrom king Mark of Cornwall I was sent on message unto king Anguish of\nIreland, for to fetch his daughter to be his wife, and here she is\nready to go with me into Cornwall, and her name is La Beale Isoud. And\nSir Tristram, said Sir Galahad the haut prince, well be ye found in\nthese marches, and so ye will promise me to go unto Sir Launcelot du\nLake and accompany with him, ye shall go where ye will, and your fair\nlady with you. And I shall promise you never in all my days shall such\ncustoms be used in this castle as have been used. Sir, said Sir\nTristram, now I let you wit I wend ye had been Sir Launcelot du Lake\nwhen I saw you first, and, therefore I dread you the more; and Sir, I\npromise you, said Sir Tristram, as soon as I may I will see Sir\nLauncelot and enfellowship me with him, for of all the knights of the\nworld I most desire his fellowship.\n_How Sir Launcelot met with Sir Carados bearing away Sir Gawaine, and\n of the rescue of Sir Gawaine._\nAnd then Sir Tristram took his leave when he saw his time, and took the\nsea. And in the mean while word came unto Sir Launcelot and to Sir\nTristram that Sir Carados the mighty king, that was made like a giant,\nhad fought with Sir Gawaine, and gave him such strokes that he swooned\nin his saddle, and after that he took him by the collar and pulled him\nout of his saddle, and fast bound him to the saddle bow, and so rode\nhis way with him towards his castle. And as he rode, by fortune Sir\nLauncelot met with Sir Carados, and anon he knew Sir Gawaine that lay\nbound after him. Ah, said Sir Launcelot unto Sir Gawaine, how stands it\nwith you? Never so hard, said Sir Gawaine, unless that ye help me, for\nwithout ye rescue me I know no knight that may, but either you or Sir\nTristram. Wherefore Sir Launcelot was heavy of Sir Gawaine\u2019s words. And\nthen Sir Launcelot bad Sir Carados, Lay down that knight, and fight\nwith me. Thou art but a fool, said Sir Carados, for I will serve you in\nthe same wise. As for that, said Sir Launcelot, spare me not, for I\nwarn thee I will not spare thee. And then he bound Sir Gawaine hand and\nfoot, and so threw him to the ground. And then he gat his spear of his\nSquire and departed from Sir Launcelot to fetch his course. And so\neither met with other, and brake their spears to their hands, and then\nthey pulled out swords and hurtled together on horseback more than an\nhour. And at the last Sir Launcelot smote Sir Carados such a buffet\nupon the helm that it perched his brain-pan. So then Sir Launcelot took\nSir Carados by the collar and pulled him under his horse feet, and then\nhe alight and pulled off his helm and strake off his head. And then Sir\nLauncelot unbound Sir Gawaine. So this same tale was told to Sir\nGalahad and to Sir Tristram:\u2014here may ye hear the nobleness that\nfolloweth Sir Launcelot. Alas, said Sir Tristram, and I had not this\nmessage in hand with this fair lady, truly I would never stint or I had\nfound Sir Launcelot. Then Sir Tristram and La Beale Isoud went to the\nsea and came into Cornwall, and there all the barons met them.\n_Of the wedding of king Mark to La Beale Isoud, and of Bragwaine her\n maid, and of Palamides._\nAnd anon they were richly wedded with great nobley. But ever, as the\nFrench book saith, Sir Tristram and La Beale Isoud loved ever together.\nThen was there great justs and great tourneying, and many lords and\nladies were at that feast, and Sir Tristram was most praised of all\nother. Thus dured the feast long, and after the feast was done, within\na little while after, by the assent of two ladies that were with queen\nIsoud, they ordained for hate and envy to destroy dame Bragwaine, that\nwas maiden and lady unto La Beale Isoud, and she was sent into the\nforest for to fetch herbs, and there she was met, and bound feet and\nhand to a tree, and so she was bounden three days. And by fortune Sir\nPalamides found dame Bragwaine and there he delivered her from the\ndeath, and brought her to a nunnery there beside to be recovered. When\nIsoud the queen missed her maiden wit ye well she was right heavy as\never was any queen, for of all earthly women she loved her best, the\ncause was for she came with her out of her country.\nAnd so upon a day the queen Isoud walked into the forest to put away\nher thoughts, and there she went herself unto a well and made great\nmoan. And suddenly there came Sir Palamides to her, and had heard all\nher complaint, and said, Madame Isoud, and if ye will grant me my boon\nI shall bring to you dame Bragwaine safe and sound. And the queen was\nso glad of his proffer that suddenly unadvised she granted all his\nasking. Well madam, said Sir Palamides, I trust to your promise, and if\nye will abide here half an hour I shall bring her to you. I shall abide\nyou, said La Beale Isoud. Then Sir Palamides rode forth his way to that\nnunnery, and lightly he came again with dame Bragwaine; but by her good\nwill she would not have come again, because for love of the queen she\nstood in adventure of her life. Notwithstanding, half against her will,\nshe went with Sir Palamides unto the queen. And when the queen saw her\nshe was passing glad. Now madam, said Palamides, remember upon your\npromise, for I have fulfilled my promise. Sir Palamides, said the\nqueen, I wot not what is your desire, but I will that ye wit howbeit I\npromised you largely I thought none evil, nor I warn you none ill will\nI do. Madam, said Sir Palamides, as at this time ye shall not know my\ndesire, but before my lord your husband there shall ye know that I will\nhave my desire that ye have promised me. And therewith the queen\ndeparted and rode home to the king, and Sir Palamides rode after her.\nAnd when Sir Palamides came before the king he said, Sir king, I\nrequire you as ye be a righteous king, that ye will judge me the right.\nTell me the cause, said the king, and ye shall have right.\n_How Palamides demanded queen Isoud, and how Lambegus rode after to\n rescue her, and of the escape of Isoud._\nSir, said Palamides, I promised your queen Isoud to bring again dame\nBragwaine that she had lost, upon this covenant, that she should grant\nme a boon that I would ask, and without grudging other advisement she\ngranted me. What say ye, my lady? said the king. It is truly as he\nsaith, said the queen, to say the sooth I promised him his asking for\nlove and joy that I had to see her. Well madam, said the king, and if\nye were hasty to grant him what boon he would ask, I will well that ye\nperform your promise. Then said Sir Palamides, I will that ye wit that\nI will have your queen to lead her and govern her where as me list.\nTherewith the king stood still, and bethought him of Sir Tristram, and\ndeemed that he would rescue her. And then hastily the king answered,\nTake her with the adventures that shall fall of it, for Sir Palamides\nas I suppose thou wilt not keep her no while. As for that, said Sir\nPalamides, I dare right well abide the adventure. And so to make short\ntale, Sir Palamides took her by the hand and said, Madam, grudge not to\ngo with me, for I desire nothing but your own promise. As for that,\nsaid the queen, I fear not greatly to go with thee, howbeit thou hast\nme at advantage upon my promise. For I doubt not I shall be\nworshipfully rescued from thee. As for that, said Sir Palamides, be it\nas it be may. So queen Isoud was set behind Palamides, and rode his\nway. Anon the king sent after Sir Tristram, but in no wise he could be\nfound, for he was in the forest an hunting; for that was always his\ncustom, but if he used arms, to chase and to hunt in the forests. Alas,\nsaid the king, now I am shamed for ever, that by mine own assent my\nlady and my queen shall be devoured. Then came forth a knight, his name\nwas Lambegus, and he was a knight of Sir Tristram. My lord, said this\nknight, sith ye have trust in my lord Sir Tristram, wit ye well for his\nsake I will ride after your queen and rescue her, or else I shall be\nbeaten. Gramercy, said the king, and I live, Sir Lambegus, I shall\ndeserve it. And then Sir Lambegus armed him, and rode after as fast as\nhe might. And then within awhile he overtook Sir Palamides: and then\nSir Palamides left the queen. What art thou? said Sir Palamides, art\nthou Tristram? Nay, he said, I am his servant, and my name is Sir\nLambegus. That me repenteth, said Sir Palamides, I had lever thou hadst\nbeen Sir Tristram. I believe you well, said Sir Lambegus, but when thou\nmeetest with Sir Tristram thou shalt have thy hands full. And then they\nhurtled together and all to-brast their spears, and then they pulled\nout their swords and hewed on helms and hauberks. At the last Sir\nPalamides gave Sir Lambegus such a wound that he fell down like a dead\nknight to the earth. Then he looked after La Beale Isoud, and then she\nwas gone he nist where. Wit ye well Sir Palamides was never so heavy.\nSo the queen ran into the forest, and there she found a well, and\ntherein she had thought to have drowned herself. And as good fortune\nwould, there came a knight to her that had a castle thereby, his name\nwas Sir Adtherp. And when he found the queen in that mischief he\nrescued her, and brought her to his castle. And when he wist what she\nwas, he armed him and took his horse, and said he would be avenged upon\nPalamides, and so he rode till he met with him, and there Sir Palamides\nwounded him sore, and by force he made him to tell him the cause why he\ndid battle with him, and how he had led the queen unto his castle. Now\nbring me there, said Palamides, or thou shalt die of my hands. Sir,\nsaid Sir Adtherp, I am so wounded I may not follow, but ride you this\nway, and it shall bring you into my castle, and there within is the\nqueen. And then Sir Palamides rode still till he came to the castle,\nand at a window La Beale Isoud saw Sir Palamides, then she made the\ngates to be shut strongly. And when he saw he might not come within the\ncastle, he put off his bridle and his saddle, and put his horse to\npasture, and set himself down at the gate like a man that was out of\nhis wit that recked not of himself.\n_How Sir Tristram rode after Palamides, and how he found him and fought\n with him, and by the mean of Isoud the battle ceased._\nNow turn we unto Sir Tristram, that when he was come home and wist La\nBeale Isoud was gone with Sir Palamides, wit ye well he was wroth out\nof measure. Alas, said Sir Tristram, I am this day shamed. Then he\ncried to Gouvernail his man, Haste thee that I were armed and on\nhorseback, for well I wot Lambegus hath no might nor strength to\nwithstand Sir Palamides; alas, that I had not been in his stead. So\nanon as he was armed and horsed Sir Tristram and Gouvernail rode after\ninto the forest, and within a while he found his knight Lambegus almost\nwounded to the death, and Sir Tristram bare him to a forester, and\ncharged him to keep him well. And then he rode forth, and there he\nfound Sir Adtherp sore wounded, and he told him how the queen would\nhave drowned herself and he had not been, and how for her sake and love\nhe had taken upon him to do battle with Sir Palamides. Where is my\nlady? said Sir Tristram. Sir, said the knight, she is sure enough\nwithin my castle, and she can hold her within it. Gramercy, said Sir\nTristram, of thy great goodness. And so he rode till he came nigh to\nthat castle, and then Sir Tristram saw where Sir Palamides sat at the\ngate sleeping, and his horse pastured fast afore him. Now go thou\nGouvernail, said Sir Tristram, and bid him awake and make him ready. So\nGouvernail rode unto him and said, Sir Palamides, arise and take to\nthee thine harness. But he was in such a study that he heard not what\nGouvernail said. So Gouvernail came again and told Sir Tristram that he\nslept, or else he was mad. Go thou again, said Sir Tristram, and bid\nhim arise, and tell him that I am here his mortal foe. So Gouvernail\nrode again and put upon him the butt of his spear, and said, Sir\nPalamides make thee ready, for wit ye well Sir Tristram hoveth yonder,\nand sendeth thee word he is thy mortal foe. And therewithal Sir\nPalamides arose stilly without words, and gat his horse and saddled him\nand bridled him, and lightly he lept upon him, and gat his spear in his\nhand, and either feutred their spears, and hurtled fast together; and\nthere Sir Tristram smote down Sir Palamides over his horse tail. Then\nlightly Sir Palamides put his shield afore him and drew his sword, and\nthere began strong battle on both parties, for both they fought for the\nlove of one lady, and ever she lay on the walls and beheld them how\nthey fought out of measure, and either were wounded passing sore, but\nPalamides was much sorer wounded. Thus they fought tracing and\ntraversing more than two hours, that well nigh for dole and sorrow La\nBeale Isoud swooned. Alas, said she, that one I loved and yet do, and\nthe other I love not, yet it were great pity that I should see Sir\nPalamides slain, for well I know by that time the end be done Sir\nPalamides is but a dead knight, and because he is not christened I\nwould be loth that he should die a Saracen. And therewithal she came\ndown and besought Sir Tristram to fight no more. Ah madam, said he,\nwhat mean you? will ye have me shamed? Well ye know I will be ruled by\nyou. I will not your dishonour, said La Beale Isoud, but I would that\nye would for my sake spare this unhappy Saracen Palamides. Madam, said\nSir Tristram, I will leave fighting at this time for your sake.\nThen she said to Sir Palamides: This shall be your charge, that thou\nshalt go out of this country while I am therein. I will obey your\ncommandment, said Sir Palamides, the which is sore against my will.\nThen take thy way, said La Beale Isoud, unto the court of king Arthur,\nand there recommend me unto queen Guenever, and tell her that I send\nher word that there be within the land but four lovers, that is Sir\nLauncelot du Lake and queen Guenever, and Sir Tristram de Liones and\nqueen Isoud.\n_How Sir Tristram brought queen Isoud home, and of the debate of king\n Mark and Sir Tristram._\nAnd so Sir Palamides departed with great heaviness. And Sir Tristram\ntook the queen and brought her again to king Mark, and then was there\nmade great joy of her home coming. Who was cherished but Sir Tristram!\nThen Sir Tristram let fetch Sir Lambegus his knight from the forester\u2019s\nhouse, and it was long or he was whole, but at the last he was well\nrecovered. Thus they lived with joy and play a long while. But ever Sir\nAndred, that was nigh cousin unto Sir Tristram, lay in a watch to wait\nbetwixt Sir Tristram and La Beale Isoud, for to take them and slander\nthem. So upon a day Sir Tristram talked with La Beale Isoud in a\nwindow, and that espied Sir Andred, and told it to the king. Then king\nMark took a sword in his hand and came to Sir Tristram, and called him\nfalse traitor, and would have stricken him. But Sir Tristram was nigh\nhim, and ran under his sword, and took it out of his hand. And then the\nking cried, Where are my knights and my men? I charge you slay this\ntraitor. But at that time there was not one would move for his words.\nWhen Sir Tristram saw there was not one would be against him, he shook\nthe sword to the king, and made countenance as though he would have\nstricken him. And then king Mark fled, and Sir Tristram followed him,\nand smote upon him five or six strokes flatling on the neck that he\nmade him to fall upon the nose. And then Sir Tristram went his way and\narmed him, and took his horse and his man, and so he rode into that\nforest. And there upon a day Sir Tristram met with two brethren that\nwere knights with king Mark, and there he strake off the head of the\none, and wounded the other to the death, and he made him to bear his\nbrother\u2019s head in his helm unto the king, and thirty more there he\nwounded. And when that knight came before the king to say his message,\nhe there died afore the king and the queen. Then king Mark called his\ncouncil unto him and asked advice of his barons what was best to do\nwith Sir Tristram. Sir, said the barons, in especial Sir Dinas the\nseneschal, Sir, we will give you counsel for to send for Sir Tristram,\nfor we will that ye wit many men will hold with Sir Tristram and he\nwere hard bested. And sir, said Sir Dinas, ye shall understand that Sir\nTristram is called peerless and matchless of any christian knight, and\nof his might and his hardiness we knew none so good a knight, but if it\nbe Sir Launcelot du Lake. And if he depart from your court and go to\nking Arthur\u2019s court, wit ye well he will get him such friends there\nthat he will not set by your malice. And therefore, sir, I counsel you\nto take him to your grace. I will well, said the king, that he be sent\nfor, that we may be friends. Then the barons sent for Sir Tristram\nunder a safe conduct. And so when Sir Tristram came to the king, he was\nwelcome, and no rehearsal was made, and there was game and play. And\nthen the king and the queen went on hunting, and Sir Tristram.\n_How Sir Lamorak justed with thirty knights, and Sir Tristram at\n request of king Mark smote his horse down._\nThe king and the queen made their pavilions and their tents in that\nforest beside a river, and there was daily hunting and justing, for\nthere were ever thirty knights ready to just unto all them that came in\nat that time. And there by fortune came Sir Lamorak de Galis and Sir\nDriant, and there Sir Driant justed right well, but at the last he had\na fall. Then Sir Lamorak proffered to just. And when he began he fared\nso with the thirty knights that there was not one of them but that he\ngave him a fall, and some of them were sore hurt. I marvel, said king\nMark, what knight he is that doth such deeds of arms. Sir, said Sir\nTristram, I know him for a noble knight as few now be living, and his\nname is Sir Lamorak de Galis. It were great shame, said the king, that\nhe should go thus away, unless that some of you met with him better.\nSir, said Sir Tristram, me seemeth it were no worship for a noble man\nfor to have ado with him; and for because at this time he hath done\novermuch for any mean knight living, therefore, as me seemeth, it were\ngreat shame and villainy to tempt him any more at this time, insomuch\nas he and his horse are weary both; for the deeds of arms that he hath\ndone this day, and they be well considered, were enough for Sir\nLauncelot du Lake.\nAs for that, said king Mark, I require you as ye love me and my lady\nthe queen La Beale Isoud, take your arms and just with Sir Lamorak de\nGalis. Sir, said Sir Tristram, ye bid me do a thing that is against\nknighthood, and well I can deem that I shall give him a fall, for it is\nno mastery, for my horse and I be fresh both, and so is not his horse\nand he; and wit ye well that he will take it for great unkindness, for\never one good is loth to take another at disadvantage. But because I\nwill not displease you, as ye require me so will I do, and obey your\ncommandment. And so Sir Tristram armed him anon and took his horse, and\nput him forth, and there Sir Lamorak met him mightily, and what with\nthe might of his own spear, and of Sir Tristram\u2019s spear, Sir Lamorak\u2019s\nhorse fell to the earth, and he sitting in the saddle. Then anon as\nlightly as he might he avoided the saddle and his horse, and put his\nshield afore him, and drew his sword. And then he bad Sir Tristram,\nAlight, thou knight, and thou darest. Nay, said Sir Tristram, I will no\nmore have ado with thee, for I have done to thee overmuch unto my\ndishonour, and to thy worship. As for that, said Sir Lamorak, I can\nthee no thank: since thou hast forjusted me on horseback, I require\nthee, and I beseech thee, and thou be Sir Tristram, fight with me on\nfoot. I will not so, said Sir Tristram; and wit ye well my name is Sir\nTristram de Liones, and well I know ye be Sir Lamorak de Galis, and\nthis that I have done to you was against my will, but I was required\nthereto; but to say that I will do at your request as at this time, I\nwill have no more ado with you, for me shameth of that I have done. As\nfor the shame, said Sir Lamorak, on thy part or on mine, bear thou it\nand thou wilt, for though a mare\u2019s son hath failed me, now a queen\u2019s\nson shall not fail thee; and therefore, and thou be such a knight as\nmen call thee, I require thee, alight, and fight with me. Sir Lamorak,\nsaid Sir Tristram, I understand your heart is great, and cause why ye\nhave, to say the sooth: for it would grieve me and any knight should\nkeep himself fresh and then to strike down a weary knight, for that\nknight nor horse was never formed that alway might stand or endure. And\ntherefore, said Sir Tristram, I will not have ado with you, for me\nforthinketh of that I have done. As for that, said Sir Lamorak, I shall\nquit you and ever I see my time.\n_How Sir Lamorak sent an horn to king Mark in despite of Sir Tristram,\n and how Sir Tristram was driven into a chapel._\nSo he departed from him with Sir Driant, and by the way they met with a\nknight that was sent from Morgan le Fay unto king Arthur, and this\nknight had a fair horn harnessed with gold, and the horn had such a\nvirtue that there might no lady nor gentlewoman drink of that horn but\nif she were true to her husband, and if she were false she should spill\nall the drink, and if she were true to her lord she might drink\npeaceably. And because of queen Guenever, and in the despite of Sir\nLauncelot, this horn was sent unto king Arthur, and by force Sir\nLamorak made that knight to tell all the cause why he bare that horn.\nNow shalt thou bear this horn, said Lamorak unto king Mark, or else\nchoose thou to die for it. For I tell thee plainly, in despite and\nreproof of Sir Tristram thou shalt bear that horn unto king Mark his\nuncle, and say thou to him that I sent it him for to assay his lady,\nand if she be true to him he shall prove her. So the knight went his\nway unto king Mark, and brought him that rich horn, and said that Sir\nLamorak sent it him, and thereto he told him the virtue of that horn.\nThen the king made queen Isoud to drink thereof, and an hundred ladies,\nand there were but four ladies of all those that drank clean. Alas,\nsaid king Mark, this is a great despite; and sware a great oath that\nshe should be burnt, and the other ladies. Then the barons gathered\nthem together, and said plainly, they would not have those ladies burnt\nfor an horn made by sorcery, that came from as false a sorceress and\nwitch as then was living. For that horn did never good, but caused\nstrife and debate, and always in her days she had been an enemy to all\ntrue lovers. So there were many knights made their avow, if ever they\nmet with Morgan le Fay that they would shew her short courtesy. Also\nSir Tristram was passing wroth that Sir Lamorak sent that horn unto\nking Mark, for well he knew that it was done in the despite of him; and\ntherefore he thought to quit Sir Lamorak. Then, always, Sir Tristram\nused to go to queen Isoud when he might, and ever Sir Andred his cousin\nwatched him night and day, for to take him with La Beale Isoud. And so,\nupon a day, Sir Andred his cousin espied the hour and the time when Sir\nTristram went to his lady. And then Sir Andred gat unto him twelve\nknights, and he set upon Sir Tristram secretly and suddenly, and there\nSir Tristram was taken with La Beale Isoud, and then was he bound hand\nand foot, and so was he kept until the next day. And then by assent of\nking Mark, and of Sir Andred, and of some of the barons, Sir Tristram\nwas led unto a chapel which stood upon the sea rocks, there for to take\nhis judgment; and so he was led bound with forty knights. And when Sir\nTristram saw there was none other remedy but needs that he must die,\nthen said he, Fair lords, remember what I have done for the country of\nCornwall, and in what jeopardy I have been in for the weal of you all.\nFor when I fought for the truage of Cornwall with Sir Marhaus the good\nknight, I was promised for to be better rewarded, when ye all refused\nto take the battle; therefore, as ye be good gentle knights, see me not\nthus shamefully to die, for it is shame to all knighthood thus to see\nme die. For I dare well say, said Sir Tristram, that I never yet met\nwith no knight but I was as good as he, or better. Fie upon thee, said\nSir Andred, false traitor that thou art with thy vaunting, for all thy\nboast thou shalt die this day. O Andred, Andred, said Sir Tristram,\nthou shouldst be my kinsman, and now thou art to me full unfriendly,\nbut and there were no more but thou and I, thou wouldst not put me to\ndeath. No! said Sir Andred, and therewith he drew his sword and would\nhave slain him. When Sir Tristram saw him make such countenance, he\nlooked upon both his hands that were fast bound unto two knights, and\nsuddenly he pulled them both to him and unwrast his hands, and then he\nlept unto his cousin Andred and wrested his sword out of his hands,\nthen he smote Sir Andred that he fell to the earth, and so Sir Tristram\nfought till he had killed ten knights. So then Sir Tristram gat the\nchapel and kept it mightily. Then the cry was great, and the people\ndrew fast unto Sir Andred, more than an hundred. When Sir Tristram saw\nthe people draw unto him, he remembered that he was naked, and shut\nfast the chapel door, and brake the bars of a window, and so he lept\nout and fell upon the crags in the sea. And so at that time Sir Andred\nnor none of his fellows might get to him at that time.\n_How Sir Tristram was holpen by his men, and of queen Isoud which was\n put in a lazar-cote, and how Tristram was hurt._\nSo when they were departed, Gouvernail and Sir Lambegus, and Sir\nSentraille de Lushon, that were Sir Tristram\u2019s men, sought their\nmaster. When they heard he was escaped, then they were passing glad,\nand on the rocks they found him, and with towels they pulled him up.\nAnd then Sir Tristram asked them where La Beale Isoud was, for he wend\nshe had been had away of Andred\u2019s people. Sir, said Gouvernail, she is\nput in a lazar-cote. Alas, said Sir Tristram, this is a full ungoodly\nplace for such a fair lady; and if I may she shall not be long there.\nAnd so he took his men, and went there as was La Beale Isoud, and\nfetched her away, and brought her into a forest to a fair manor, and\nSir Tristram there abode with her. So the good knight bad his men go\nfrom him,\u2014For at this time I may not help you. So they departed all\nsave Gouvernail. And so upon a day Sir Tristram went into the forest\nfor to desport him, and then it happened that he fell there on sleep.\nAnd there came a man that Sir Tristram afore hand had slain his\nbrother; and when this man had found him he shot him through the\nshoulder with an arrow, and Sir Tristram lept up and killed that man.\nAnd in the mean while it was told king Mark how Sir Tristram and La\nBeale Isoud were in that same manor, and as soon as ever he might\nthither he came with many knights to slay Sir Tristram. And when he\ncame there he found him gone; and there he took La Beale Isoud home\nwith him, and kept her strait that by no means never she might wit nor\nsend unto Tristram, nor he unto her. And then when Sir Tristram came\ntoward the old manor, he found the track of many horses, and thereby he\nwist his lady was gone. And then Sir Tristram took great sorrow, and\nendured with great pain long time, for the arrow that he was hurt\nwithall was envenomed.\nThen by the means of La Beale Isoud she told a lady that was cousin\nunto dame Bragwaine, and she came to Sir Tristram, and told him that he\nmight not be whole by no means,\u2014For thy lady La Beale Isoud may not\nhelp thee; therefore she biddeth you haste into Britanny to king Howel,\nand there ye shall find his daughter Isoud la Blanche Mains, and she\nshall help thee. Then Sir Tristram and Gouvernail gat them shipping,\nand so sailed into Britanny. And when king Howel wist that it was Sir\nTristram he was full glad of him. Sir, he said, I am come into this\ncountry to have help of your daughter, for it is told me that there is\nnone other may heal me but she. And so within a while she healed him.\n_How Sir Tristram served in war king Howel of Britanny and slew his\n adversary in the field._\nThere was an earl that hight Grip, and this earl made great war upon\nthe king, and put the king to the worse, and besieged him. And on a\ntime Sir Kehydius, that was son to king Howel, as he issued out he was\nsore wounded nigh to the death. Then Gouvernail went to the king and\nsaid, Sir, I counsel you to desire my lord, Sir Tristram, as in your\nneed to help you. I will do by your counsel, said the king. And so he\nwent unto Sir Tristram and prayed him in his wars for to help him, for\nmy son Sir Kehydius may not go into the field. Sir, said Sir Tristram,\nI will go to the field, and do what I may. Then Sir Tristram issued out\nof the town with such fellowship as he might make, and did such deeds\nthat all Britanny spake of him. And then at the last, by great might\nand force, he slew the earl Grip with his own hands, and more than an\nhundred knights he slew that day. And then Sir Tristram was received\nright worshipfully with procession. Then king Howel embraced him in his\narms and said, Sir Tristram, all my kingdom I will resign to thee. God\ndefend, said Sir Tristram, for I am beholden unto you for your\ndaughter\u2019s sake to do for you. Then by the great means of king Howel\nand Kehydius his son, by great proffers there grew great love betwixt\nIsoud and Sir Tristram, for that lady was both good and fair, and a\nwoman of noble blood and fame. And for because that Sir Tristram had\nsuch cheer and riches, and all other pleasance that he had, almost he\nhad forsaken La Beale Isoud. And so upon a time Sir Tristram agreed to\nwed Isoud la Blanche Mains. And at the last they were wedded, and\nsolemnly held their marriage.\nAnd in the mean while there was a knight in Britanny, his name was\nSuppinabiles, and he came over the sea into England, and then he came\nunto the court of king Arthur, and there he met with Sir Launcelot du\nLake, and told him of the marriage of Sir Tristram. Then said Sir\nLauncelot, Fie upon him, untrue knight to his lady; that so noble a\nknight as Sir Tristram is, should be found to his first lady false, La\nBeale Isoud, queen of Cornwall. But say ye him this, said Sir\nLauncelot, that of all knights in the world I loved him most, and had\nmost joy of him, and all was for his noble deeds; and let him wit the\nlove between him and me is done for ever, and that I give him warning\nfrom this day forth as his mortal enemy.\n_How Sir Suppinabiles told Sir Tristram how he was defamed in the court\n of king Arthur, and of Sir Lamorak._\nThen departed Sir Suppinabiles unto Britanny again, and there he found\nSir Tristram, and told him that he had been in king Arthur\u2019s court.\nThen said Sir Tristram, Heard ye any thing of me? Truly, said Sir\nSuppinabiles, there I heard Sir Launcelot speak of you great shame, and\nthat ye be a false knight to your lady, and he bad me to do you to wit\nthat he will be your mortal enemy in every place where he may meet you.\nThat me repenteth, said Tristram, for of all knights I loved to be in\nhis fellowship. So Sir Tristram made great moan, and was ashamed that\nnoble knights should defame him for the sake of his lady. And in this\nmean while La Beale Isoud made a letter unto queen Guenever,\ncomplaining her of the untruth of Sir Tristram, and how he had wedded\nthe king\u2019s daughter of Britanny. Queen Guenever sent her another\nletter, and bad her be of good cheer, for she should have joy after\nsorrow, for Sir Tristram was so noble a knight called, that by crafts\nof sorcery ladies would make such noble men to wed them, but in the\nend, queen Guenever said, it shall be thus, that he shall hate her, and\nlove you better than ever he did tofore.\nSo leave we Sir Tristram in Britanny, and speak we of Sir Lamorak de\nGalis, that as he sailed his ship fell on a rock and perished all, save\nSir Lamorak and his squire, and there he swam mightily, and fishers of\nthe Isle of Servage took him up, and his squire was drowned, and the\nshipmen had great labour to save Sir Lamorak\u2019s life for all the comfort\nthat they could do. And the lord of that isle hight Sir Nabon le Noire,\na great mighty giant. And this Sir Nabon hateth all the knights of king\nArthur, and in no wise he would do them favor. And these fishers told\nSir Lamorak all the guise of Sir Nabon, how there came never knight of\nking Arthur\u2019s but he destroyed him. And at the last battle that he did\nwas slain Sir Nanowne le Petite, the which he put to a shameful death\nin despite of king Arthur, for he was drawn limb-meal. That forthinketh\nme, said Sir Lamorak, for that knight\u2019s death, for he was my cousin.\nAnd if I were at mine ease as well as ever I was, I would revenge his\ndeath. Peace, said the fishers, and make here no words, for, or ye\ndepart from hence, Sir Nabon must know that ye have been here, or else\nwe should die for your sake. So that I be whole, said Lamorak, of my\ndisease that I have taken in the sea, I will that ye tell him that I am\na knight of king Arthur\u2019s, for I was never afeard to deny my lord.\n_How Sir Tristram and his wife arrived in Wales, and how he met there\n with Sir Lamorak._\nNow turn we unto Sir Tristram, that upon a day he took a little barge,\nand his wife Isoud la Blanch Mains, with Sir Kehydius her brother, to\nplay them in the coasts. And when they were from the land, there was a\nwind drove them into the coast of Wales upon this Isle of Servage,\nwhere as was Sir Lamorak, and there the barge all to-rove, and there\ndame Isoud was hurt, and as well as they might they gat into the\nforest, and there by a well he saw Segwarides and a damsel. And then\neither saluted other. Sir, said Segwarides, I know you for Sir Tristram\nde Liones, the man in the world that I have the most cause to hate,\nbecause ye departed the love between me and my wife; but as for that,\nsaid Segwarides, I will never hate a noble knight for a light lady, and\ntherefore I pray you be my friend, and I will be yours unto my power,\nfor wit ye well ye are hard bested in this valley, and we shall have\nenough to do either of us to succour other. And then Sir Segwarides\nbrought Sir Tristram unto a lady thereby that was born in Cornwall, and\nshe told him all the perils of that valley, and how there came never\nknight there but he were taken prisoner or slain. Wit you well fair\nlady, said Sir Tristram, that I slew Sir Marhaus, and delivered\nCornwall from the truage of Ireland, and I am he that delivered the\nking of Ireland from Sir Blamor de Ganis, and I am he that beat Sir\nPalamides, and wit ye well, I am Sir Tristram de Liones, that by the\ngrace of God shall deliver this woful Isle of Servage. So Sir Tristram\nwas well eased; then one told him there was a knight of king Arthur\u2019s\nthat was wrecked on the rocks. What is his name? said Sir Tristram. We\nwot not, said the fishers, but he keepeth it no counsel but that he is\na knight of king Arthur\u2019s, and by the mighty lord of this isle he\nsetteth nought by. I pray you, said Sir Tristram, and ye may bring him\nhither that I may see him; and if he be any of the knights of Arthur\u2019s\nI shall know him. Then the lady prayed the fishers to bring him to her\nplace. So, on the morrow they brought him thither in a fisher\u2019s\nraiment. And as soon as Sir Tristram saw him he smiled upon him and\nknew him well, but he knew not Sir Tristram. Fair knight, said Sir\nTristram, me seemeth by your cheer ye have been diseased but late, and\nalso me thinketh I should know you heretofore. I will well, said Sir\nLamorak, that ye have seen me and met with me. Fair sir, said Sir\nTristram, tell me your name. Upon a covenant I will tell you, said Sir\nLamorak, that is, that ye will tell me whether ye be lord of this\nisland or no, that is called Nabon le Noire. For sooth, said Sir\nTristram, I am not he, nor I hold not of him, I am his foe as well ye\nbe, and so shall I be found or I depart out of this isle. Well, said\nSir Lamorak, since ye have said so largely unto me, my name is Sir\nLamorak de Galis, son unto king Pellinore. For sooth, I trow well, said\nSir Tristram, for, and ye said other, I know the contrary. What are ye,\nsaid Sir Lamorak, that knoweth me? I am Sir Tristram de Liones. Ah,\nsir, remember ye not of the fall ye did give me once, and after ye\nrefused me to fight on foot. That was not for fear I had of you, said\nSir Tristram, but me shamed at that time to have more ado with you, for\nme seemed ye had enough; but, Sir Lamorak, for my kindness many ladies\nye put to a reproof, when ye sent the horn from Morgan le Fay to king\nMark, where as ye did this in despite of me. Well, said he, and it were\nto do again, so would I do, for I had lever strife and debate fell in\nking Mark\u2019s court rather than Arthur\u2019s court, for the honour of both\ncourts be not alike. As to that, said Sir Tristram, I know well. But\nthat that was done, it was for despite of me, but all your malice hurt\nnot greatly. Therefore, said Sir Tristram, ye shall leave all your\nmalice and so will I, and let us assay how we may win worship between\nyou and me upon this giant Sir Nabon le Noire, that is lord of this\nisland, to destroy him. Sir, said Sir Lamorak, now I understand your\nknighthood, it may not be false that all men say, for of your bounty,\nnobless, and worship, of all knights ye are peerless; and for courtesy\nand gentleness I shewed you ungentleness, and that now me repenteth.\n_How Sir Tristram fought with Sir Nabon and overcame him, and made Sir\n Lamorak lord of the isle._\nIn the mean time came word that Sir Nabon had made a cry that all the\npeople of that isle should be at his castle the fifth day after. And\nthe same day the son of Nabon should be made knight, and all the\nknights of that valley and thereabout should be there to just, and all\nthose of the realm of Logris should be there to just with them of North\nWales; and thither came five hundred knights, and they of the country\nbrought there Sir Lamorak, and Sir Tristram, and Sir Kehydius, and Sir\nSegwarides, for they durst none otherwise do. And then Sir Nabon lent\nSir Lamorak horse and armour at Sir Lamorak\u2019s desire, and Sir Lamorak\njusted and did such deeds of arms that Nabon and all the people said\nthere was never knight that ever they saw do such deeds of arms. For,\nas the French book saith, he forjusted all that were there, for the\nmost part of five hundred knights, that none abode him in his saddle.\nThen Sir Nabon proffered to play with him his play:\u2014For I saw never no\nknight do so much upon a day. I will well, said Sir Lamorak, play as I\nmay, but I am weary and sore bruised: and there either gat a spear, but\nNabon would not encounter with Sir Lamorak, but smote his horse in the\nforehead and so slew him, and then Sir Lamorak went on foot and turned\nhis shield and drew his sword, and there began strong battle on foot.\nBut Sir Lamorak was so sore bruised and short breathed, that he traced\nand traversed somewhat aback. Fair fellow, said Sir Nabon, hold thy\nhand, and I shall shew thee more courtesy than ever I shewed knight,\nbecause I have seen this day thy noble knighthood. And therefore stand\nthou by, and I will wit whether any of thy fellows will have ado with\nme. Then when Sir Tristram heard that, he stept forth and said, Nabon,\nlend me horse and sure armour, and I will have ado with thee. Well\nfellow, said Sir Nabon, go thou to yonder pavilion, and arm thee of the\nbest thou findest there, and I shall play a marvellous play with thee.\nThen, said Sir Tristram, look ye play well, or else peradventure I\nshall learn you a new play. That is well said, fellow, said Sir Nabon.\nSo when Sir Tristram was armed as him liked best, and well shielded and\nsworded, he dressed to him on foot, for well he knew that Sir Nabon\nwould not abide a stroke with a spear, therefore he would slay all\nknights\u2019 horses. Now fair fellow, said Sir Nabon, let us play. So then\nthey fought long on foot, tracing and traversing, smiting and foining\nlong without any rest. At the last Sir Nabon prayed him to tell him his\nname. Sir Nabon, I tell thee my name is Sir Tristram de Liones, a\nknight of Cornwall under king Mark. Thou art welcome, said Sir Nabon,\nfor of all knights I have most desired to fight with thee or with Sir\nLauncelot. So then they went eagerly together, and Sir Tristram slew\nSir Nabon, and so forthwith he lept to his son and strake off his head.\nAnd then all the country said they would hold of Sir Tristram. Nay,\nsaid Sir Tristram, I will not so: here is a worshipful knight Sir\nLamorak de Galis that for me he shall be lord of this country, for he\nhath done here great deeds of arms. Nay, said Sir Lamorak, I will not\nbe lord of this country, for I have not deserved it as well as ye,\ntherefore give ye it where ye will, for I will none have. Well, said\nSir Tristram, since ye nor I will not have it, let us give it to him\nthat hath not so well deserved it. Do as ye list, said Sir Lamorak, for\nthe gift is yours, for I will none have and I had deserved it. So it\nwas given to Segwarides, wherefore he thanked him, and so was he lord,\nand worshipfully he did govern it. And then Sir Segwarides delivered\nall prisoners, and set good governance in that valley; and so he\nreturned into Cornwall, and told king Mark and La Beale Isoud how Sir\nTristram had advanced him to the Isle of Servage, and there he\nproclaimed in all Cornwall of all the adventures of these two knights,\nso was it openly known. But full woe was La Beale Isoud when she heard\ntell that Sir Tristram was wedded to Isoud La Blanche Mains.\n_How Sir Lamorak departed from Sir Tristram, and how he met with Sir\n Frol, and after with Sir Launcelot._\nSo turn we unto Sir Lamorak, that rode toward Arthur\u2019s court; and Sir\nTristram and his wife and Kehydius took a vessel and sailed into\nBritanny unto king Howel, where he was welcome. And when he heard of\nthese adventures they marvelled of his noble deeds. Now turn we unto\nSir Lamorak, that when he was departed from Sir Tristram, he rode out\nof the forest till he came to an hermitage. When the hermit saw him he\nasked him from whence he came. Sir, said Sir Lamorak, I come from this\nvalley. Sir, said the hermit, thereof I greatly marvel, for this twenty\nwinter I saw never no knight pass this country but he was either slain\nor villainously wounded, or passed as a poor prisoner. Those ill\ncustoms, said Sir Lamorak, are fordone; for Sir Tristram slew your lord\nSir Nabon, and his son. Then was the hermit glad, and all his brethren,\nfor he said there was never such a tyrant among Christian men,\u2014and\ntherefore, said the hermit, this valley and franchise we will hold of\nSir Tristram. So on the morrow Sir Lamorak departed. And as he rode he\nsaw four knights fight against one, and that one knight defended him\nwell, but at the last the four knights had him down. And then Sir\nLamorak went betwixt them, and asked them why they would slay that one\nknight, and said it was shame four against one. Thou shalt well wit,\nsaid the four knights, that he is false. That is your tale, said Sir\nLamorak, and when I hear him also speak I will say as ye say. Then said\nLamorak, Ah knight, can ye not excuse you but that ye are a false\nknight? Sir, said he, yet can I excuse me both with my words and with\nmy hands, that I will make good upon one of the best of them, my body\nto his body. Then spake they all at once: We will not jeopard our\nbodies as for thee; but wit thou well, they said, and king Arthur were\nhere himself, it should not lie in his power to save his life. That is\ntoo much said, said Sir Lamorak, but many speak behind a man more than\nthey will say to his face. And because of your words, ye shall\nunderstand that I am one of the simplest of king Arthur\u2019s court: in the\nworship of my lord now do your best, and in despite of you I shall\nrescue him. And then they lashed all at once to Sir Lamorak; but anon\nat two strokes Sir Lamorak had slain two of them, and then the other\ntwo fled. So then Sir Lamorak turned again to that knight and asked him\nhis name. Sir, he said, my name is Sir Frol of the Out Isles. Then he\nrode with Sir Lamorak and bare him company; and as they rode by the way\nthey saw a seemly knight riding against them, and all in white. Ah,\nsaid Frol, yonder knight justed late with me, and smote me down,\ntherefore I will just with him. Ye shall not do so, said Sir Lamorak,\nby my counsel, and ye will tell me your quarrel, whether ye justed at\nhis request, or he at yours. Nay, said Sir Frol, I justed with him at\nmy request. Sir, said Lamorak, then will I counsel you deal no more\nwith him, for me seemeth by his countenance he should be a noble knight\nand no jester, for me thinketh he should be of the Table Round.\nTherefore I will not spare, said Sir Frol; and then he cried and said,\nSir knight, make thee ready to just. That needeth not, said the knight,\nfor I have no lust to just with thee. But yet they feutred their\nspears, and the white knight overthrew Sir Frol, and then he rode his\nway a soft pace. Then Sir Lamorak rode after him, and prayed him to\ntell him his name, For me seemeth ye should be of the fellowship of the\nRound Table. Upon a covenant, said he, I will tell you my name, so that\nye will not discover my name, and also that ye will tell me yours.\nThen, said he, my name is Sir Lamorak de Galis. And my name is Sir\nLauncelot du Lake. Then they put up their swords, and kissed heartily\ntogether, and either made great joy of other. Sir, said Sir Lamorak,\nand it please you I will do you service. God defend, said Sir\nLauncelot, that any of so noble blood as ye be should do me service.\nThen he said more, I am in a quest that I must do myself alone. Now God\nspeed you, said Sir Lamorak, and so they departed. Then Sir Lamorak\ncame to Sir Frol and horsed him again. What knight is that? said Sir\nFrol. Sir, said he, it is not for you to know, nor it is no point of my\ncharge. Ye are the more uncourteous, said Sir Frol, and therefore I\nwill depart from you. Ye may do as ye list, said Sir Lamorak, and yet\nby my company you have saved the fairest flower of your garland. So\nthey departed.\n_How Sir Lamorak slew Sir Frol, and of the courteous fighting with Sir\n Belliance his brother._\nThen within two or three days Sir Lamorak found a knight at a well\nsleeping, and his lady sat with him and waked. Right so came Sir\nGawaine and took the knight\u2019s lady, and set her up behind his squire.\nSo Sir Lamorak rode after Sir Gawaine, and said, Sir Gawaine, turn\nagain. And then said Sir Gawaine, What will ye do with me? for I am\nnephew to king Arthur. Sir, said he, for that cause I will spare you,\nelse that lady should abide with me, or else ye should just with me.\nThen Sir Gawaine turned him and ran to him that owned the lady with his\nspear. But the knight with pure might smote down Sir Gawaine, and took\nhis lady with him. All this Sir Lamorak saw, and said to himself, But I\nrevenge my fellow, he will say of me dishonour in king Arthur\u2019s court.\nThen Sir Lamorak returned and proffered that knight to just. Sir, said\nhe, I am ready. And so they came together with all their might, and\nthere Sir Lamorak smote the knight through both sides, that he fell to\nthe earth dead. Then the lady rode to that knight\u2019s brother that hight\nSir Belliance le Orgulous, that dwelled fast thereby, and then she told\nhim how his brother was slain. Alas, said he, I will be revenged. And\nso horsed him and armed him, and within a while he overtook Sir\nLamorak, and bad him, Turn, and leave that lady, for thou and I must\nplay a new play, for thou hast slain my brother Sir Frol, that was a\nbetter knight than ever were thou. It might well be, said Sir Lamorak,\nbut this day in the field I was found the better. So they rode\ntogether, and unhorsed other, and turned their shields and drew their\nswords, and fought mightily as noble knights proved by the space of two\nhours. So then Sir Belliance prayed him to tell his name. Sir, said he,\nmy name is Sir Lamorak de Galis. Ah, said Sir Belliance, thou art the\nman in the world that I most hate, for I slew my sons for thy sake,\nwhere I saved thy life, and now thou hast slain my brother Sir Frol.\nAlas, how should I be accorded with thee? therefore defend thee, for\nthou shalt die: there is none other remedy. Alas, said Sir Lamorak,\nfull well me ought to know you, for ye are the man that most have done\nfor me. And therewithal Sir Lamorak kneeled down and besought him of\ngrace. Arise, said Sir Belliance, or else there as thou kneelest I\nshall slay thee. That shall not need, said Sir Lamorak, for I will\nyield me unto you, not for fear of you, nor for your strength, but your\ngoodness maketh me full loth to have ado with you; wherefore I require\nyou, for God\u2019s sake, and for the honour of knighthood, forgive me all\nthat I have offended unto you. Alas, said Belliance, leave thy\nkneeling, or else I shall slay thee without mercy. Then they went again\nunto battle, and either wounded other, that all the ground was bloody\nthere as they fought. And at the last Belliance withdrew him aback and\nset him down softly upon a little hill, for he was so faint for\nbleeding that he might not stand. Then Sir Lamorak threw his shield\nupon his back, and asked him, What cheer? Well, said Sir Belliance. Ah\nsir, yet shall I shew you favour in your mal-ease. Ah knight, Sir\nBelliance said, Sir Lamorak thou art a fool, for and I had thee at such\nadvantage as thou hast done me I should slay thee, but thy gentleness\nis so good and large that I must needs forgive thee mine evil will. And\nthen Sir Lamorak kneeled down and unlaced first his umberere, and then\nhis own. And then either kissed other with weeping tears. Then Sir\nLamorak led Sir Belliance to an abbey fast by, and there Sir Lamorak\nwould not depart from Belliance till he was whole. And then they swore\ntogether that none of them should never fight against other. So Sir\nLamorak departed and went to the court of king Arthur.\nHere leue we of sire Lamorak and of sir Tristram. And here begynneth the\n historye of La cote male tayle.\n_How a young man came into the court of king Arthur, and how Sir Kay\n called him in scorn La Cote Male Taile._\nAt the court of king Arthur there came a young man and bigly made, and\nhe was richly beseen, and he desired to be made knight of the king, but\nhis over garment sat overthwartly, howbeit it was rich cloth of gold.\nWhat is your name? said king Arthur. Sir, said he, my name is Breunor\nle Noire, and within short space ye shall know that I am of good kin.\nIt may well be, said Sir Kay the seneschal, but in mockage ye shall be\ncalled La Cote Male Taile, that is as much as to say, the evil-shapen\ncoat. It is a great thing that thou askest, said the king; and for what\ncause wearest thou that rich coat? tell me; for I can well think for\nsome cause it is. Sir, said he, I had a father a noble knight, and as\nhe rode on hunting, upon a day it happed him to lay him down to sleep.\nAnd there came a knight that had been long his enemy. And when he saw\nhe was fast on sleep, he all to-hewed him; and this same coat had my\nfather on the same time, and that maketh this coat to sit so evil upon\nme, for the strokes be on it as I found it, and never shall be amended\nfor me. Thus to have my father\u2019s death in remembrance I wear this coat\ntill I be revenged; and because ye are called the most noblest king in\nthe world I come to you that ye should make me knight. Sir, said Sir\nLamorak and Sir Gaheris, it were well done to make him knight, for him\nbeseemeth well of person and of countenance, that he shall prove a good\nman, and a good knight and a mighty; for Sir, and ye be remembered,\neven such one was Sir Launcelot du Lake when he came first into this\ncourt, and full few of us knew from whence he came, and now he is\nproved the most man of worship in the world, and all your court and all\nyour Round Table is by Sir Launcelot worshipped and amended more than\nby any knight now living. That is truth, said the king, and to-morrow\nat your request I shall make him knight. So on the morrow there was an\nhart found, and thither rode king Arthur with a company of his knights\nto slay the hart. And this young man that Sir Kay named La Cote Male\nTaile was there left behind with queen Guenever, and by sudden\nadventure there was an horrible lion kept in a strong tower of stone,\nand it happened that he at that time brake loose, and came hurling\nafore the queen and her knights. And when the queen saw the lion, she\ncried, and fled, and prayed her knights to rescue her. And there was\nnone of them all but twelve that abode, and all the other fled. Then\nsaid La Cote Male Taile, Now I see well that all coward knights be not\ndead: and therewithal he drew his sword and dressed him afore the lion.\nAnd that lion gaped wide, and came upon him ramping to have slain him.\nAnd he then smote him in the midst of the head such a mighty stroke\nthat it clave his head in sunder, and dashed to the earth. Then was it\ntold the queen how that the young man that Sir Kay named by scorn La\nCote Male Taile had slain the lion. With that the king came home. And\nwhen the queen told him of that adventure he was well pleased, and\nsaid, Upon pain of mine head he shall prove a noble man, and a faithful\nknight, and true of his promise. Then the king forthwithal made him\nknight. Now Sir, said this young knight, I require you and all the\nknights of your court, that ye call me by none other name but La Cote\nMale Taile; insomuch as Sir Kay so hath named me, so will I be called.\nI assent me well thereto, said the king.\n_How a damsel came unto the court and desired a knight to take on him\n an inquest, which La Cote Male Taile emprized._\nThen that same day there came a damsel into the king\u2019s court, and she\nbrought with her a great black shield, with a white hand in the midst\nholding a sword. Other picture was there none in that shield. When king\nArthur saw her, he asked her from whence she came, and what she would.\nSir, she said, I have ridden long and many a day with this shield many\nways, and for this cause I am come to your court:\u2014There was a good\nknight that owned this shield, and this knight had undertaken a great\ndeed of arms to achieve it, and so it misfortuned him another strong\nknight met with him by sudden adventure, and there they fought long,\nand either wounded other passing sore, and they were so weary that they\nleft that battle even hand. So this knight that owned this shield saw\nnone other way but he must die; and then he commanded me to bear this\nshield to the court of king Arthur, he requiring and praying some good\nknight to take this shield, and that he would fulfil the quest that he\nwas in. Now what say ye to this quest? said king Arthur. Is there any\nof you here that will take upon him to weld this shield? Then was there\nnot one that would speak one word. Then Sir Kay took the shield in his\nhands. Sir knight, said the damsel, what is your name? Wit ye well,\nsaid he, my name is Sir Kay the seneschal, that widewhere is known.\nSir, said that damsel, lay down that shield, for wit ye well it falleth\nnot for you, for he must be a better knight than ye that shall weld\nthis shield. Damsel, said Sir Kay, wit ye well I took this shield in my\nhands by your leave for to behold it, not to that intent, but go\nwheresoever thou wilt, for I will not go with you. Then the damsel\nstood still a great while, and beheld many of those knights. Then spake\nthe knight La Cote Male Taile, Fair damsel, I will take the shield and\nthat adventure upon me, so I wist I should know whither ward my journey\nmight be, for because I was this day made knight I would take this\nadventure upon me. What is your name, fair young man? said the damsel.\nMy name is, said he, La Cote Male Taile. Well mayest thou be called so,\nsaid the damsel, the knight with the evil-shapen coat, but and thou be\nso hardy to take upon thee to bear that shield and to follow me, wit\nthou well thy skin shall be as well hewn as thy coat. As for that, said\nLa Cote Male Taile, when I am so hewn I will ask you no salve to heal\nme withal. And forthwithal there came into the court two squires, and\nbrought him great horses and his armour and his spears, and anon he was\narmed, and took his leave. I would not by my will, said the king, that\nye took upon you that hard adventure. Sir, said he, this adventure is\nmine, and the first that ever I took upon me, and that will I follow\nwhatsoever come of me. Then that damsel departed, and La Cote Male\nTaile followed first after. And within a while he overtook the damsel.\nAnd anon she missaid him in the foullest manner.\n_How La Cote Male Taile overthrew Sir Dagonet the king\u2019s fool, and of\n the rebuke that he had of the damsel._\nThen Sir Kay ordained Sir Dagonet, king Arthur\u2019s fool, to follow after\nLa Cote Male Taile, and there Sir Kay ordained that Sir Dagonet was\nhorsed and armed, and bad him follow La Cote Male Taile and proffer him\nto just, and so he did, and when he saw La Cote Male Taile he cried and\nbad him make him ready to just. So Sir La Cote Male Taile smote Sir\nDagonet over his horse croup. Then the damsel mocked La Cote Male\nTaile, and said, Fie for shame, now art thou shamed in Arthur\u2019s court\nwhen they send a fool to have ado with thee, and specially at thy first\njusts. Thus she rode long and chid. And within a while there came Sir\nBleoberis the good knight, and there he justed with La Cote Male Taile,\nand there Sir Bleoberis smote him so sore that horse and all fell to\nthe earth. Then La Cote Male Taile arose up lightly and dressed his\nshield and drew his sword, and would have done battle to the utterance,\nfor he was wood wroth. Not so, said Bleoberis de Ganis, as at this time\nI will not fight upon foot. Then the damsel Maledisant rebuked him in\nthe foullest manner, and bad him, turn again coward. Ah damsel, he\nsaid, I pray you of mercy to missay me no more, my grief is enough\nthough ye give me no more. I call myself never the worse knight when a\nmare\u2019s son faileth me, and also I count me never the worse knight for a\nfall of Sir Bleoberis. So thus he rode with her two days, and by\nfortune there came Sir Palamides and encountered with him, and he in\nthe same wise served him as did Bleoberis toforehand. What dost thou\nhere in my fellowship, said the damsel Maledisant, thou canst not sit\nno knight nor withstand him one buffet, but if it were Sir Dagonet. Ah\nfair damsel, I am not the worse to take a fall of Sir Palamides, and\nyet great disworship have I none, for neither Bleoberis nor yet\nPalamides would not fight with me on foot. As for that, said the\ndamsel, wit thou well they have disdain and scorn to light off their\nhorses to fight with such a mean knight as thou art. So in the\nmeanwhile there came Sir Mordred, Sir Gawaine\u2019s brother, and so he fell\nin the fellowship with the damsel Maledisant. And then they came afore\nthe castle Orgulous, and there was such a custom that there might no\nknight come by that castle but either he must just or be prisoner, or\nat the least to lose his horse and his harness. And there came out two\nknights against them, and Sir Mordred justed with the foremost, and\nthat knight of the castle smote Sir Mordred down off his horse. And\nthen anon La Cote Male Taile justed with that other, and either of them\nsmote other down, horse and all to the earth. And when they avoided\ntheir horses, then either of them took other\u2019s horses. And then La Cote\nMale Taile rode into that knight that smote down Sir Mordred, and\njusted with him; and there Sir La Cote Male Taile hurt and wounded him\npassing sore, and put him from his horse as he had been dead. So he\nturned unto him that met him afore, and he took the flight toward the\ncastle, and Sir La Cote Male Taile rode after him into the castle\nOrgulous, and there La Cote Male Taile slew him.\n_How La Cote Male Taile fought against an hundred knights, and how he\n escaped by the mean of a lady._\nAnd anon there came an hundred knights about him and assailed him; and\nwhen he saw his horse should be slain he alight and voided his horse,\nand put the bridle under his feet, and so put him out of the gate. And\nwhen he had so done, he hurled in among them, and dressed his back unto\na lady\u2019s chamber-wall, thinking himself that he had lever die there\nwith worship than to abide the rebukes of the damsel Maledisant. And in\nthe mean time as he stood and fought, that lady whose was the chamber,\nwent out slily at her postern, and without the gates she found La Cote\nMale Taile\u2019s horse, and lightly she gat him by the bridle and tied him\nto the postern. And then she went unto her chamber slily again for to\nbehold how that one knight fought against an hundred knights. And so\nwhen she had beheld him long, she went to a window behind his back and\nsaid, Thou knight thou fightest wonderly well, but for all that at the\nlast thou must needs die, but and thou canst through thy mighty prowess\nwin unto yonder postern, for there have I fastened thy horse to abide\nthee; but wit thou well thou must think on thy worship and think not to\ndie, for thou mayest not win unto that postern without thou do nobly\nand mightily. When La Cote Male Taile heard her say so, he griped his\nsword in his hands, and put his shield fair afore him, and through the\nthickest press he thrulled through them. And when he came to the\npostern he found there ready four knights, and at two the first strokes\nhe slew two of the knights, and the other fled, and so he won his horse\nand rode from them. And all as it was, it was rehearsed in king\nArthur\u2019s court, how he slew twelve knights within the castle Orgulous.\nAnd so he rode on his way. And in the mean while the damsel said to Sir\nMordred, I ween my foolish knight be either slain or taken prisoner.\nThen were they ware where he came riding. And when he was come unto\nthem, he told all how he had sped, and escaped in despite of them all,\nand some of the best of them will tell no tales. Thou liest falsely,\nsaid the damsel, that dare I make good, but as a fool and a dastard to\nall knighthood they have let thee pass. That may ye prove, said La Cote\nMale Taile. With that she sent a courier of hers that rode alway with\nher, for to know the truth of this deed. And so he rode thither\nlightly, and asked how and in what manner that Sir La Cote Male Taile\nwas escaped out of the castle. Then all the knights cursed him and said\nthat he was fiend and no man; for he hath slain here twelve of our best\nknights, and we wend unto this day that it had been too much for Sir\nLauncelot du Lake, or for Sir Tristram de Liones. And in despite of us\nall he is departed from us, and maugre our heads.\nWith this answer the courier departed, and came to Maledisant his lady,\nand told her all how Sir La Cote Male Taile had sped at the castle\nOrgulous. Then she smote down her head, and said little. By my head,\nsaid Sir Mordred to the damsel, ye are greatly to blame so to rebuke\nhim, for I warn you plainly he is a good knight, and I doubt not but he\nshall prove a noble knight, but as yet he may not sit sure on\nhorseback: for he that shall be a good horseman it must come of usage\nand exercise. But when he cometh to the strokes of his sword he is then\nnoble and mighty, and that saw Sir Bleoberis and Sir Palamides, for wit\nye well they are wily men of arms, and anon they know when they see a\nyoung knight by his riding, how they are sure to give him a fall from\nhis horse or a great buffet. But for the most part they will not light\non foot with young knights, for they are wight and strongly armed. For\nin likewise Sir Launcelot du Lake when he was first made knight he was\noften put to the worse upon horseback, but ever upon foot he recovered\nhis renown, and slew and defoiled many knights of the Round Table. And\ntherefore the rebukes that Sir Launcelot did to many knights causeth\nthem that be men of prowess to beware, for often I have seen the old\nproved knights rebuked and slain by them that were but young beginners.\nThus they rode sure talking by the way together.\nHere leave we off a while of this tale, and speak we of Sir Launcelot\ndu Lake.\n_How Sir Launcelot came to the court and heard of La Cote Male Taile,\n and how he followed after him, and how La Cote Male Taile was\n prisoner._\nThat when he was come to the court of king Arthur, then heard he tell\nof the young knight La Cote Male Taile, how he slew the lion, and how\nhe took upon him the adventure of the black shield, the which was named\nat that time the hardiest adventure of the world. Truly, said Sir\nLauncelot unto many of his fellows, it was shame to all the noble\nknights to suffer such a young knight to take such adventure upon him\nfor his destruction: for I will that ye wit, said Sir Launcelot, that\nthat damsel Maledisant hath borne that shield many a day for to seek\nthe most proved knights, and that was she that Breuse Sance Pit\u00e9 took\nthat shield from her, and after Tristram de Liones rescued that shield\nfrom him and gave it to the damsel again. A little afore that time Sir\nTristram fought with my nephew Sir Blamor de Ganis for a quarrel that\nwas betwixt the king of Ireland and him. Then many knights were sorry\nthat Sir La Cote Male Taile was gone forth to that adventure. Truly,\nsaid Sir Launcelot, I cast me to ride after him. And within seven days\nSir Launcelot overtook La Cote Male Taile. And then he saluted him and\nthe damsel Maledisant. And when Sir Mordred saw Sir Launcelot then he\nleft their fellowship. And so Sir Launcelot rode with them all a day,\nand ever that damsel rebuked La Cote Male Taile, and then Sir Launcelot\nanswered for him; then she left off and rebuked Sir Launcelot. So this\nmean time Sir Tristram sent by a damsel a letter unto Sir Launcelot\nexcusing him of the wedding of Isoud la Blanche Mains, and passing\ncourteously and gently Sir Tristram wrote unto Sir Launcelot, ever\nbeseeching him to be his good friend, and unto La Beale Isoud of\nCornwall, and that Sir Launcelot would excuse him if that ever he saw\nher. And within short time said Sir Tristram that he would speak with\nLa Beale Isoud and with him right hastily. Then Sir Launcelot departed\nfrom the damsel and from Sir La Cote Male Taile, for to oversee that\nletter, and for to write another letter unto Sir Tristram de Liones.\nAnd in the mean while La Cote Male Taile rode with the damsel until\nthey came unto a castle that hight Pendragon, and there were six\nknights stood afore him, and one of them proffered to just with La Cote\nMale Taile. And there La Cote Male Taile smote him over his horse\ncroup. And then the five knights set upon him all at once with their\nspears, and there they smote La Cote Male Taile down, horse and man,\nand then they alight suddenly, and set their hands upon him all at once\nand took him prisoner, and so led him unto the castle and kept him as\nprisoner. And on the morn Sir Launcelot arose and delivered the damsel\nwith letters unto Sir Tristram, and then he took his way after La Cote\nMale Taile, and by the way upon a bridge there was a knight proffered\nSir Launcelot to just, and Sir Launcelot smote him down, and then they\nfought upon foot a noble battle together, and a mighty. And at the last\nSir Launcelot smote him down groveling upon his hands and his knees;\nand then that knight yielded him, and Sir Launcelot received him fair.\nSir, said the knight, I require thee tell me your name, for much my\nheart giveth unto you. Nay, said Sir Launcelot, as at this time I will\nnot tell you my name, unless then that ye tell me your name. Certainly,\nsaid the knight, my name is Sir Nerovens, that was made knight of my\nlord Sir Launcelot du Lake. Ah, Nerovens de Lile, said Sir Launcelot, I\nam right glad that ye are proved a good knight, for now wit ye well my\nname is Sir Launcelot du Lake. Alas, said Nerovens de Lile, what have I\ndone. And therewithall flatling he fell to his feet, and would have\nkissed them, but Sir Launcelot would not let him; and then either made\ngreat joy of other. And then Sir Nerovens told Sir Launcelot that he\nshould not go by the castle of Pendragon, For there is a lord, a mighty\nknight, and many knights with him, and this night I heard say that they\ntook a knight prisoner yesterday that rode with a damsel, and they say\nhe is a knight of the Round Table.\n_How Sir Launcelot fought with six knights, and after with Sir Brian,\n and how he delivered the prisoners._\nAh, said Sir Launcelot, that knight is my fellow, and him shall I\nrescue, or else I shall lose my life therefore. And therewithal he rode\nfast till he came before the castle of Pendragon, and anon therewithal\nthere came six knights, and all made them ready to set upon Sir\nLauncelot at once. Then Sir Launcelot feutred his spear, and smote the\nforemost that he brake his back in sunder, and three of them hit and\nthree failed. And then Sir Launcelot past through them, and lightly he\nturned in again, and smote another knight through the breast and\nthroughout the back, and more than an ell, and therewithal his spear\nbrake. So then all the remnant of the four knights drew their swords,\nand lashed at Sir Launcelot, and at every stroke Sir Launcelot bestowed\nso his strokes that at four strokes sundry they avoided their saddles,\npassing sore wounded, and forthwithal he rode hurling into that castle.\nAnd, anon the lord of the castle that was that time called Sir Brian de\nles isles, the which was a noble man, and a great enemy unto king\nArthur, within awhile he was armed and upon horseback: and then they\nfeutred their spears, and hurled together so strongly that both their\nhorses rashed to the earth. And then they avoided their saddles, and\ndressed their shields, and drew their swords, and flung together as\nwood men, and there were many strokes given in a while. At the last Sir\nLauncelot gave to Sir Brian such a buffet that he kneeled upon his\nknees, and then Sir Launcelot rashed upon him, and with great force he\npulled him off his helm, and when Sir Brian saw that he should be\nslain, he yielded him, and put him in his mercy and in his grace. Then\nSir Launcelot made him to deliver all his prisoners that he had within\nhis castle, and therein Sir Launcelot found of Arthur\u2019s knights thirty,\nand forty ladies, and so he delivered them and then he rode his way.\nAnd anon as La Cote Male Taile was delivered he gat his horse and his\nharness, and his damsel Maledisant. The mean while Sir Nerovens, that\nSir Launcelot had fought withall afore at the bridge, he sent a damsel\nafter Sir Launcelot for to wit how he sped at the castle of Pendragon.\nAnd then they within the castle marvelled what knight he was when Sir\nBrian and his knights delivered all those prisoners. Have ye no marvel,\nsaid the damsel, for the best knight in this world was here, and did\nthis tourney, and wit ye well, she said, it was Sir Launcelot. Then was\nSir Brian full glad, and so was his lady and all his knights that such\na man should win them. And when the damsel and La Cote Male Taile\nunderstood that it was Sir Launcelot du Lake that had ridden with them\nin fellowship, and that she remembered her how she had rebuked him and\ncalled him coward, then was she passing heavy.\n_How Sir Launcelot met with the damsel named Maledisant, and how he\n named her the damsel Bienpensant._\nSo then they took their horses and rode forth a pace after Sir\nLauncelot. And within two mile they overtook him, and saluted him, and\nthanked him, and the damsel cried Sir Launcelot mercy of her evil deed,\nand saying, For now I know the flower of all knighthood is parted even\nbetween Sir Tristram and you. For I have sought you my lord Sir\nLauncelot, and Sir Tristram, long, and now I thank God I have met with\nyou; and once at Camelot, I met with Sir Tristram, and there he rescued\nthis black shield with the white hand holding a naked sword, which Sir\nBreuse Sance Pit\u00e9 had taken away from me. Now, fair damsel, said Sir\nLauncelot, who told you my name? Sir, said she, there came a damsel\nfrom a knight that ye fought withall at the bridge, and she told me\nyour name was Sir Launcelot du Lake. Blame have she then, said Sir\nLauncelot, but her lord Sir Nerovens hath told her. But damsel, said\nSir Launcelot, upon this covenant I will ride with you, so that ye will\nnot rebuke this knight Sir La Cote Male Taile no more, for he is a good\nknight, and I doubt not he shall prove a noble knight, and for his\nsake, and pity that he should not be destroyed, I followed him to\nsuccour him in this great need. Ah, God thank you, said the damsel, for\nnow I will say unto you and to him both, I rebuked him never for no\nhate that I hated him, but for great love that I had to him: for ever I\nsupposed that he had been too young and too tender to take upon him\nthese adventures, and, therefore by my will I would have driven him\naway for jealousy that I had of his life; for it may be no young\nknight\u2019s deed that shall achieve this adventure to the end. Perdy, said\nSir Launcelot, it is well said, and where ye are called the damsel\nMaledisant, I will call you the damsel Bienpensant. And so they rode\nforth a great while until they came to the border of the country of\nSurluse, and there they found a fair village with a strong bridge like\na fortress. And when Sir Launcelot and they were at the bridge, there\nstart forth afore them of gentlemen and yeomen many that said, Fair\nlords, ye may not pass this bridge and this fortress because of that\nblack shield that I see one of you bear, and therefore there shall not\npass but one of you at once; therefore choose which of you shall enter\nwithin this bridge first. Then Sir Launcelot proffered himself first to\nenter within this bridge. Sir, said La Cote Male Taile, I beseech you\nlet me enter first within this fortress, and if I may speed well I will\nsend for you, and if it happen that I be slain, there it goeth. And if\nso be that I am a prisoner taken, then may ye rescue me. I am loth,\nsaid Sir Launcelot, to let you pass this passage. Sir, said La Cote\nMale Taile, I pray you let me put my body in this adventure. Now go\nyour way, said Sir Launcelot, and Jesu be your speed. So he entered,\nand anon there met with him two brethren, the one hight Sir Plaine de\nForce, and the other hight Sir Plaine de Amours; and anon they met with\nSir La Cote Male Taile, and first La Cote Male Taile smote down Sir\nPlaine de Force, and soon after he smote down Plaine de Amours, and\nthen they dressed them to their shields and swords, and bad La Cote\nMale Taile alight, and so he did, and there was dashing and foining\nwith swords, and so they began to assail full hard La Cote Male Taile,\nand many great wounds they gave him upon his head and upon his breast\nand upon his shoulders. And as he might ever among he gave sad strokes\nagain. And then the two brethren traced and traversed for to be of both\nhands of Sir La Cote Male Taile, but he by fine force and knightly\nprowess gat them afore him. And then when he felt himself so wounded\nthen he doubled his strokes and gave them so many wounds that he felled\nthem to the earth, and would have slain them had they not yielded them.\nAnd right so Sir La Cote Male Taile took the best horse that there was\nof them three, and so rode forth his way to the other fortress and\nbridge, and there he met with the third brother, whose name was Sir\nPlenorius, a full noble knight, and there they justed together, and\neither smote other down horse and man to the earth. And then they\navoided their horses, and dressed their shields, and drew their swords,\nand gave many sad strokes, and one while the one knight was afore on\nthe bridge, and another while the other. And thus they fought two hours\nand more, and never rested, and ever Sir Launcelot and the damsel\nbeheld them. Alas, said the damsel, my knight fighteth passing sore and\nover long. Now may ye see, said Sir Launcelot, that he is a noble\nknight, for to consider his first battle, and his grievous wounds. And\neven forth with all so wounded as he is, it is great marvel that he may\nendure this long battle with that good knight.\n_How La Cote Male Taile was taken prisoner, and after rescued by Sir\n Launcelot, and how Sir Launcelot overcame four brethren._\nThis mean while Sir La Cote Male Taile sank right down upon the earth,\nwhat for-wounded and what for-bled he might not stand. Then the other\nknight had pity of him, and said, Fair young knight, dismay you not,\nfor had ye been fresh when ye met with me, as I was, I well wot that I\nshould not have endured so long as ye have done, and therefore for your\nnoble deeds of arms I shall shew to you kindness and gentleness in all\nthat I may. And forth withal this noble knight Sir Plenorius took him\nup in his arms, and led him into his tower. And then he commanded him\nthe wine, and made to search him, and to stop his bleeding wounds. Sir,\nsaid La Cote Male Taile, withdraw you from me, and hie you to yonder\nbridge again, for there will meet you another manner knight than ever I\nwas. Why, said Sir Plenorius, is there another manner knight behind of\nyour fellowship? Yea, said La Cote Male Taile, there is a much better\nknight than I am. What is his name? said Plenorius. Ye shall not know\nfor me, said La Cote Male Taile. Well, said the knight, he shall be\nencountered withal, whatsoever he be. Then Sir Plenorius heard a knight\ncall that said, Sir Plenorius, where art thou? either thou must deliver\nme the prisoner that thou hast led unto thy tower, or else come and do\nbattle with me. Then Sir Plenorius gat his horse, and came with a spear\nin his hand, galloping towards Sir Launcelot, and then they began to\nfeutre their spears, and came together as thunder, and smote either\nother so mightily that their horses fell down under them. And then they\navoided their horses, and pulled out their swords, and like two bulls\nthey lashed together with great strokes and foins, but ever Sir\nLauncelot recovered ground upon him, and Sir Plenorius traced to have\ngone about him. But Sir Launcelot would not suffer that, but bare him\nbacker and backer till he came nigh his tower gate. And then said Sir\nLauncelot, I know thee well for a good knight, but wit thou well thy\nlife and death is in my hand, and therefore yield thee to me, and thy\nprisoner. The other answered no word, but strake mightily upon Sir\nLauncelot\u2019s helm, that fire sprang out of his eyen; then Sir Launcelot\ndoubled his strokes so thick, and smote at him so mightily, that he\nmade him kneel upon his knees, and therewith Sir Launcelot lept upon\nhim and pulled him groveling down. Then Sir Plenorius yielded him, and\nhis tower, and all his prisoners, at his will. And then Sir Launcelot\nreceived him and took his troth, and then he rode to the other bridge,\nand there Sir Launcelot justed with other three of his brethren, the\none hight Pillounes, and the other hight Pellogris, and the third Sir\nPellandris. And first upon horseback Sir Launcelot smote them down, and\nafterward he beat them on foot, and made them to yield them unto him,\nand then he returned unto Sir Plenorius, and there he found in his\nprison king Carados of Scotland and many other knights, and all they\nwere delivered. And then Sir La Cote Male Taile came to Sir Launcelot,\nand then Sir Launcelot would have given him all these fortresses and\nthese bridges. Nay, said La Cote Male Taile, I will not have Sir\nPlenorius\u2019s livelihood: with that he will grant you, my lord Sir\nLauncelot, to come unto king Arthur\u2019s court, and to be his knight, and\nall his brethren, I will pray you, my lord, to let him have his\nlivelihood. I will well, said Sir Launcelot, with this that he will\ncome to the court of king Arthur, and become his man, and his brethren\nfive. And as for you, Sir Plenorius, I will undertake, said Sir\nLauncelot, at the next feast, so there be a place voided, that ye shall\nbe knight of the Round Table. Sir, said Sir Plenorius, at the next\nfeast of Pentecost I will be at Arthur\u2019s court, and at that time I will\nbe guided and ruled as king Arthur and ye will have me. Then Sir\nLauncelot and Sir La Cote Male Tail reposed them there unto the time\nthat Sir La Cote Male Taile was whole of his wounds, and there they had\nmerry cheer, and good rest, and many games, and there were many fair\nladies.\n_How Sir Launcelot made La Cote Male Taile lord of the castle of\n Pendragon, and after was made knight of the Round Table._\nAnd in the mean while there came Sir Kay the seneschal, and Sir\nBrandiles, and anon they fellowshipped with them. And then within ten\ndays then departed those knights of king Arthur\u2019s court from these\nfortresses. And as Sir Launcelot came by the castle of Pendragon, there\nhe put Sir Brian de les isles from his lands, because he would never be\nwithold with king Arthur, and all that castle of Pendragon, and all the\nlands thereof, he gave to Sir La Cote Male Taile. And then Sir\nLauncelot sent for Sir Nerovens, that he made once knight, and he made\nhim to have all the rule of that castle and of that country under La\nCote Male Taile. And so they rode to Arthur\u2019s court all wholly\ntogether. And at Pentecost next following there was Sir Plenorius, and\nSir La Cote Male Taile, called otherwise by right Sir Breunor le Noire,\nboth made knights of the Table Round, and great lands king Arthur gave\nthem; and there Breunor le Noire wedded that damsel Maledisant. And\nafter she was called Beauvivante: but ever after for the more part he\nwas called La Cote Male Taile, and he proved a passing noble knight and\nmighty, and many worshipful deeds he did after in his life, and Sir\nPlenorius proved a noble knight and full of prowess. And all the days\nof their life for the most part they awaited upon Sir Launcelot. And\nSir Plenorius\u2019s brethren were ever knights of king Arthur. And also as\nthe French book maketh mention, Sir La Cote Male Taile avenged his\nfather\u2019s death.\n_How La Beale Isoud sent letters unto Sir Tristram by her maid\n Bragwaine, and of divers adventures of Sir Tristram._\nNow leave we here Sir La Cote Male Taile, and turn we unto Sir Tristram\nde Liones that was in Britanny. When La Beale Isoud understood that he\nwas wedded she sent unto him by her maiden Bragwaine as piteous letters\nas could be thought and made, and her conclusion was, that, and it\npleased Sir Tristram, that he would come to her court and bring with\nhim Isoud la Blanche Mains, and they should be kept as well as she\nherself. Then Sir Tristram called unto him Sir Kehydius and asked him\nwhether he would go with him into Cornwall secretly. He answered him\nthat he was ready at all times. And then he let ordain privily a little\nvessel, and therein they went, Sir Tristram, Kehydius, dame Bragwaine,\nand Gouvernail Sir Tristram\u2019s squire. So when they were in the sea, a\ncontrarious wind blew them on the coasts of North Wales, nigh the\ncastle perilous. Then said Sir Tristram, Here shall ye abide me these\nten days, and Gouvernail my squire with you. And if so be I come not\nagain by that day, take the next way into Cornwall, for in this forest\nare many strange adventures as I have heard say, and some of them I\ncast me to prove or I depart: and when I may I shall hie me after you.\nThen Sir Tristram and Kehydius took their horses and departed from\ntheir fellowship. And so they rode within that forest a mile and more.\nAnd at the last Sir Tristram saw afore him a likely knight armed,\nsitting by a well, and a strong mighty horse passing nigh him tied to\nan oak, and a man hoving and riding by him, leading an horse laden with\nspears. And this knight that sat at the well seemed by his countenance\nto be passing heavy. Then Sir Tristram rode near him and said, Fair\nknight, why sit ye so drooping? Ye seem to be a knight errant by your\narms and harness, and therefore dress you to just with one of us or\nwith both. Therewithal that knight made no words, but took his shield\nand buckled it about his neck, and lightly he took his horse and lept\nupon him. And then he took a great spear of his squire, and departed\nhis way a furlong. Sir Kehydius asked leave of Sir Tristram to just\nfirst. Do your best, said Sir Tristram. So they met together, and there\nSir Kehydius had a fall, and was sore wounded on high above the breast.\nThen Sir Tristram said, Knight, that is well justed, now make you ready\nunto me. I am ready, said the knight. And then that knight took a\ngreater spear in his hand and encountered with Sir Tristram, and there\nby great force that knight smote down Sir Tristram from his horse, and\nhe had a great fall. Then Sir Tristram was sore ashamed, and lightly he\navoided his horse and put his shield afore his shoulder, and drew his\nsword. And then Sir Tristram required that knight of his knighthood to\nalight upon foot and fight with him. I will well, said the knight. And\nso he alight upon foot and avoided his horse, and cast his shield upon\nhis shoulder, and drew his sword, and there they fought a long battle\ntogether full nigh two hours.\nThen Sir Tristram said, Fair knight, hold thy hand, and tell me of\nwhence thou art, and what is thy name. As for that, said the knight, I\nwill be advised, but and thou wilt tell me thy name, peradventure I\nwill tell thee mine.\n_How Sir Tristram met with Sir Lamorak de Galis, and how they fought,\n and after accorded never to fight together._\nNow fair knight, he said, my name is Sir Tristram de Liones. Sir, said\nthe other knight, and my name is Sir Lamorak de Galis. Ah Sir Lamorak,\nsaid Sir Tristram, well be we met, and bethink thee now of the despite\nthat thou didst me of the sending of the horn unto king Mark\u2019s court,\nto the intent to have slain or dishonoured my lady the queen La Beale\nIsoud. And therefore wit thou well, said Sir Tristram, the one of us\nshall die or we depart. Sir, said Sir Lamorak, remember that we were\ntogether in the isle of Servage, and at that time ye promised me great\nfriendship. Then Sir Tristram would make no longer delays, but lashed\nat Sir Lamorak, and thus they fought long, till either were weary of\nother. Then Sir Tristram said to Sir Lamorak, In all my life met I\nnever with such a knight that was so big and well breathed as ye be;\ntherefore, said Sir Tristram, it were pity that any of us both should\nhere be mischieved. Sir, said Sir Lamorak, for your renown and name I\nwill that ye have the worship of this battle, and therefore I will\nyield me unto you. And therewith he took the point of his sword to\nyield him. Nay, said Sir Tristram, ye shall not do so, for I know well\nyour proffers are more of your gentleness than for any fear or dread ye\nhave of me. And therewithal Sir Tristram proffered him his sword, and\nsaid, Sir Lamorak, as an overcome knight I yield me unto you, as to a\nman of the most noble prowess that ever I met withal. Nay, said Sir\nLamorak, I will do you gentleness. I require you let us be sworn\ntogether that never none of us shall after this day have ado with\nother. And there withal Sir Tristram and Sir Lamorak sware that never\nnone of them should fight against other, nor for weal nor for woe.\n_How Sir Palamides followed the questing beast, and he smote down both\n Sir Tristram and Sir Lamorak with one spear._\nAnd this mean while there came Sir Palamides the good knight following\nthe questing beast that had in shape a head like a serpent\u2019s head, and\na body like a libbard, haunches like a lion, and footed like a hart,\nand in his body there was such a noise as it had been the noise of\nthirty couple of hounds questing, and such a noise that beast made\nwheresoever he went. And this beast evermore Sir Palamides followed,\nfor it was called his quest. And right so as he followed this beast it\ncame by Sir Tristram, and soon after came Palamides, and to brief this\nmatter he smote down Sir Tristram and Sir Lamorak both with one spear,\nand so he departed after the beast Glatisant, that was called the\nquesting beast, wherefore these two knights were passing wroth that Sir\nPalamides would not fight on foot with them.\nHere men may understand that be of worship, that he was never formed\nthat all times might stand, but some time he was put to the worse by\nmal-fortune. And at some time the worse knight put the better knight to\na rebuke. Then Sir Tristram and Sir Lamorak gat Sir Kehydius upon a\nshield betwixt them both, and led him to a forester\u2019s lodge, and there\nthey gave him in charge to keep him well, and with him they abode three\ndays. Then the two knights took their horses and at the cross they\nparted. And then said Sir Tristram to Sir Lamorak, I require you if ye\nhap to meet with Sir Palamides, say him that he shall find me at the\nsame well there I met him, and there I, Sir Tristram, shall prove\nwhether he be better knight than I. And so either departed from other a\nsundry way, and Sir Tristram rode nigh there as was Sir Kehydius, and\nSir Lamorak rode until he came to a chapel, and there he put his horse\nunto pasture. And anon there came Sir Meliagaunce that was king\nBagdemagus\u2019s son, and he there put his horse to pasture, and was not\nware of Sir Lamorak, and then this knight Sir Meliagaunce made his moan\nof the love that he had to queen Guenever, and there he made a woful\ncomplaint. All this heard Sir Lamorak, and on the morn Sir Lamorak took\nhis horse and rode unto the forest, and there he met two knights hoving\nunder the wood shawe. Fair knights, said Sir Lamorak, what do ye hoving\nhere and watching, and if ye be knights errant that will just, lo I am\nready. Nay, sir knight, they said, not so, we abide not here for to\njust with you, but we lie here in await of a knight that slew our\nbrother. What knight was that, said Sir Lamorak, that ye would fain\nmeet withal. Sir, they said, it is Sir Launcelot that slew our brother,\nand if ever we may meet with him he shall not escape but we shall slay\nhim. Ye take upon you a great charge, said Sir Lamorak, for Sir\nLauncelot is a noble proved knight. As for that we doubt not, for there\nis none of us but we are good enough for him. I will not believe that,\nsaid Sir Lamorak, for I heard never yet of no knight the days of my\nlife but Sir Launcelot was too big for him.\n_How Sir Lamorak met with Sir Meliagaunce, and how they fought together\n for the beauty of queen Guenever._\nRight so as they stood talking thus, Sir Lamorak was ware how Sir\nLauncelot came riding straight toward them; then Sir Lamorak saluted\nhim, and he him again. And then Sir Lamorak asked Sir Launcelot if\nthere were any thing that he might do for him in these marches. Nay,\nsaid Sir Launcelot, not at this time, I thank you. Then either departed\nfrom other, and Sir Lamorak rode again there as he left the two\nknights, and then he found them hid in the leaved wood. Fie on you,\nsaid Sir Lamorak, false cowards, pity and shame it is that any of you\nshould take the high order of knighthood. So Sir Lamorak departed from\nthem, and within a while he met with Sir Meliagaunce, and then Sir\nLamorak asked him why he loved queen Guenever as he did: For I was not\nfar from you when ye made your complaint by the chapel. Did ye so, said\nSir Meliagaunce, then will I abide by it: I love queen Guenever; what\nwill ye with it? I will prove and make good that she is the fairest\nlady and most of beauty in the world. As to that, said Sir Lamorak, I\nsay nay thereto, for queen Morgause of Orkney, mother to Sir Gawaine,\nand his mother is the fairest queen and lady that beareth the life.\nThat is not so, said Sir Meliagaunce, and that will I prove with my\nhands upon thy body. Will ye so, said Sir Lamorak, and in a better\nquarrel keep I not to fight. Then they departed either from other in\ngreat wrath. And then they came riding together as it had been thunder,\nand either smote other so sore that their horses fell backward to the\nearth. And then they avoided their horses, and dressed their shields,\nand drew their swords. And then they hurtled together as wild boars,\nand thus they fought a great while. For Meliagaunce was a good man and\nof great might, but Sir Lamorak was hard big for him, and put him\nalways aback; but either had wounded other sore. And as they stood thus\nfighting, by fortune came Sir Launcelot and Sir Bleoberis riding. And\nthen Sir Launcelot rode betwixt them, and asked them for what cause\nthey fought so together, and ye are both knights of king Arthur.\n_How Sir Meliagaunce told for what cause they fought, and how Sir\n Lamorak justed with king Arthur._\nSir, said Meliagaunce, I shall tell you for what cause we do this\nbattle. I praised my lady queen Guenever, and said she was the fairest\nlady of the world, and Sir Lamorak said nay thereto, for he said queen\nMorgause of Orkney was fairer than she, and more of beauty. Ah Sir\nLamorak, why sayest thou so? It is not thy part to dispraise thy\nprincess that thou art under her obeisance and we all. And therewith he\nalight on foot, and said, For this quarrel make thee ready, for I will\nprove upon thee that queen Guenever is the fairest lady and most of\nbounty in the world. Sir, said Sir Lamorak, I am loth to have ado with\nyou in this quarrel. For every man thinketh his own lady fairest; and\nthough I praise the lady that I love most, ye should not be wroth. For\nthough my lady queen Guenever be fairest in your eye, wit ye well queen\nMorgause of Orkney is fairest in mine eye, and so every knight thinketh\nhis own lady fairest; and, wit ye well, Sir, ye are the man in the\nworld, except Sir Tristram, that I am most lothest to have ado withal.\nBut and ye will needs fight with me, I shall endure you as long as I\nmay. Then spake Sir Bleoberis, and said, My lord Sir Launcelot, I wist\nyou never so misadvised as ye are now. For Sir Lamorak saith you but\nreason and knightly. For I warn you I have a lady, and me thinketh that\nshe is the fairest lady of the world. Were this a great reason that ye\nshould be wroth with me for such language? And well ye wot that Sir\nLamorak is as noble a knight as I know, and he hath owed you and us\never good will, and therefore I pray you be good friends. Then Sir\nLauncelot said unto Sir Lamorak: I pray you forgive me mine evil will;\nand if I was misadvised I will amend it. Sir, said Sir Lamorak, the\namends is soon made betwixt you and me. And so Sir Launcelot and Sir\nBleoberis departed. And Sir Meliagaunce and Sir Lamorak took their\nhorses, and either departed from other. And within a while came king\nArthur, and met with Sir Lamorak, and justed with him, and there he\nsmote down Sir Lamorak, and wounded him sore with a spear, and so he\nrode from him, wherefore Sir Lamorak was wroth that he would not fight\nwith him on foot; how be it that Sir Lamorak knew not king Arthur.\n_How Sir Kay met with Sir Tristram, and after of the shame spoken of\n the knights of Cornwall, and how they justed._\nNow leave we of this tale, and speak we of Sir Tristram, that as he\nrode he met with Sir Kay the seneschal, and there Sir Kay asked Sir\nTristram of what country he was. He answered that he was of the country\nof Cornwall. It may well be, said Sir Kay, for yet heard I never that\never good knight came out of Cornwall. That is evil spoken, said Sir\nTristram, but and it please you to tell me your name I require you.\nSir, wit ye well, said Sir Kay, that my name is Sir Kay the seneschal.\nIs that your name? said Sir Tristram; now wit ye well that ye are named\nthe shamefullest knight of your tongue that now is living, how be it ye\nare called a good knight, but ye are called unfortunate, and passing\noverthwart of your tongue. And thus they rode together till they came\nto a bridge. And there was a knight would not let them pass till one of\nthem justed with him. And so that knight justed with Sir Kay, and there\nthat knight gave Sir Kay a fall; his name was Sir Tor, Sir Lamorak\u2019s\nhalf brother. And then they two rode to their lodging, and there they\nfound Sir Brandiles; and Sir Tor came thither anon after.\nAnd as they sat at supper, these four knights, three of them spake all\nshame by Cornish knights. Sir Tristram heard all that they said, and he\nsaid but little, but he thought the more; but at that time he\ndiscovered not his name. Upon the morn Sir Tristram took his horse and\nabode them upon their way; and there Sir Brandiles proffered to just\nwith Sir Tristram, and Sir Tristram smote him down, horse and all, to\nthe earth. Then Sir Tor le Fise de Vayshoure encountered with Sir\nTristram, and there Sir Tristram smote him down. And then he rode his\nway, and Sir Kay followed him, but he would not of his fellowship. Then\nSir Brandiles came to Sir Kay, and said, I would wit fain what is that\nknight\u2019s name. Come on with me, said Sir Kay, and we shall pray him to\ntell us his name. So they rode together till they came nigh him; and\nthen they were ware where he sat by a well, and had put off his helm to\ndrink at the well. And when he saw them come, he laced on his helm\nlightly, and took his horse, and proffered them to just. Nay, said Sir\nBrandiles, we justed late enough with you; we come not in that intent.\nBut for this we come, to require you of knighthood to tell us your\nname. My fair knights, since that is your desire, and to please you, ye\nshall wit that my name is Sir Tristram de Liones, nephew unto king Mark\nof Cornwall. In good time, said Sir Brandiles, and well ye be found;\nand wit ye well that we be right glad that we have found you, and we be\nof a fellowship that would be right glad of your company. For ye are\nthe knight in the world that the noble fellowship of the Round Table\nmost desireth to have the company of. I thank them, said Sir Tristram,\nof their great goodness; but as yet I feel well that I am unable to be\nof their fellowship. For I was never of such deeds of worthiness to be\nin the company of such a fellowship. Ah, said Sir Kay, and ye be Sir\nTristram de Liones, ye are the man now called most of prowess, except\nSir Launcelot du Lake. For he beareth not the life, christian ne\nheathen, that can find such another knight, to speak of his prowess,\nand of his hands, and his truth withal. For yet could there never\ncreature say of him dishonour and make it good. Thus they talked a\ngreat while; and then they departed either from other, such ways as\nthem seemed best.\n_How king Arthur was brought into the forest perilous, and how Sir\n Tristram saved his life._\nNow shall ye hear what was the cause that king Arthur came into the\nforest perilous, that was in North Wales, by the means of a lady. Her\nname was Annowre, and this lady came to king Arthur at Cardiff, and\nshe, by fair promise and fair behests, made king Arthur to ride with\nher into that forest perilous; and she was a great sorceress, and many\ndays she had loved king Arthur, and therefore she came into that\ncountry. So when the king was gone with her, many of his knights\nfollowed after king Arthur when they missed him, as Sir Launcelot,\nBrandiles, and many other. And when she had brought him to her tower,\nshe desired him to love her. And then the king remembered him of his\nlady, and would not love her for no craft that she could do. Then every\nday she would make him ride into that forest with his own knights, to\nthe intent to have had king Arthur slain. For when this lady Annowre\nsaw that she might not have him at her will, then she laboured by false\nmeans to have destroyed king Arthur and slain. Then the Lady of the\nlake, that was alway friendly to king Arthur, she understood by her\nsubtle crafts that king Arthur was like to be destroyed. And therefore\nthis Lady of the lake, that hight Nimue, came into that forest to seek\nafter Sir Launcelot du Lake, or Sir Tristram, for to help king Arthur;\nfor as that same day this Lady of the lake knew well that king Arthur\nshould be slain, unless that he had help of one of these two knights.\nAnd thus she rode up and down till she met with Sir Tristram, and anon\nas she saw him she knew him. O my lord Sir Tristram, she said, well be\nye met, and blessed be the time that I have met with you; for this same\nday, and within these two hours, shall be done the foulest deed that\never was done in this land. O fair damsel, said Sir Tristram, may I\namend it? Come on with me, she said, and that in all the haste ye may,\nfor ye shall see the most worshipfullest knight of the world hard\nbested. Then said Sir Tristram, I am ready to help such a noble man. He\nis neither better nor worse, said the Lady of the lake, but the noble\nking Arthur himself. God defend, said Sir Tristram, that ever he should\nbe in such distress. Then they rode together a great pace, until they\ncame to a little turret or castle, and underneath that castle they saw\na knight standing upon foot fighting with two knights; and so Sir\nTristram beheld them, and at the last the two knights smote down the\none knight, and that one of them unlaced his helm to have slain him.\nAnd the lady Annowre gat king Arthur\u2019s sword in her hand to have\nstricken off his head. And therewithal came Sir Tristram with all his\nmight, crying, Traitress, traitress, leave that. And anon there Sir\nTristram smote one of the knights through the body, that he fell dead;\nand then he rashed to the other and smote his back in sunder, and in\nthe mean while the Lady of the lake cried to king Arthur, Let not that\nfalse lady escape. Then king Arthur overtook her, and with the same\nsword he smote off her head; and the Lady of the lake took up her head,\nand hung it up by the hair on her saddle bow. And then Sir Tristram\nhorsed king Arthur, and rode forth with him, but he charged the Lady of\nthe lake not to discover his name as at that time. When the king was\nhorsed he thanked heartily Sir Tristram, and desired to wit his name;\nbut he would not tell him, but that he was a poor knight adventurous.\nAnd so he bare king Arthur fellowship till he met with some of his\nknights. And within a mile he met with Sir Ector de Maris, and he knew\nnot king Arthur nor Sir Tristram, and he desired to just with one of\nthem. Then Sir Tristram rode unto Sir Ector, and smote him from his\nhorse. And when he had done so he came again to the king, and said: My\nlord, yonder is one of your knights, he may bear you fellowship; and\nanother day by that deed that I have done for you, I trust ye shall\nunderstand that I would do you service. Alas, said king Arthur, let me\nwit what ye are. Not at this time, said Sir Tristram. So he departed,\nand left king Arthur and Sir Ector together.\n_How Sir Tristram came to La Beale Isoud, and how Kehydius began to\n love La Beale Isoud, and of a letter that Tristram found._\nAnd then at a day set Sir Tristram and Sir Lamorak met at the well; and\nthen they took Kehydius at the forester\u2019s house, and so they rode with\nhim to the ship where they left dame Bragwaine and Gouvernail, and so\nthey sailed into Cornwall all wholly together; and by assent and\ninformation of dame Bragwaine, when they were landed they rode unto Sir\nDinas the seneschal, a trusty friend of Sir Tristram\u2019s. And so dame\nBragwaine and Sir Dinas rode to the court of king Mark, and told the\nqueen, La Beale Isoud, that Sir Tristram was nigh her in that country.\nThen for very pure joy La Beale Isoud swooned: and when she might\nspeak, she said, Gentle knight seneschal, help that I might speak with\nhim, or else my heart will brast.\nThen Sir Dinas and dame Bragwaine brought Sir Tristram and Kehydius\nprivily unto the court, unto a chamber whereas La Beale Isoud assigned\nit; and to tell the joy that was between La Beale Isoud and Sir\nTristram, there is no tongue can tell it, nor heart think it, nor pen\nwrite it. And, as the French book maketh mention, at the first time\nthat ever Sir Kehydius saw La Beale Isoud, he was so enamoured upon her\nthat for very pure love he might never withdraw it. And at the last, as\nye shall hear or the book be ended, Sir Kehydius died for the love of\nLa Beale Isoud. And then privily he wrote unto her letters and ballads\nof the most goodliest that were used in those days. And when La Beale\nIsoud understood his letters, she had pity of his complaint, and\nunadvised she wrote another letter to comfort him withal. And Sir\nTristram was all this while in a turret, at the commandment of La Beale\nIsoud, and when she might she came unto Sir Tristram. So on a day king\nMark played at the chess under a chamber window; and at that time Sir\nTristram and Sir Kehydius were within the chamber, over king Mark, and\nas it mishapped Sir Tristram found the letter that Kehydius sent to La\nBeale Isoud; also he had found the letter that she wrote unto Kehydius,\nand at that same time La Beale Isoud was in the same chamber. Then Sir\nTristram came unto La Beale Isoud, and said; Madam, here is a letter\nthat was sent unto you, and here is the letter that ye sent unto him\nthat sent you that letter. Alas, madam, the good love that I have loved\nyou, and many lands and riches have I forsaken for your love, and now\nye are a traitress to me, the which doth me great pain. But as for\nthee, Sir Kehydius, I brought thee out of Britanny into this country,\nand thy father, king Howel, I won his lands; howbeit, I wedded thy\nsister, Isoud la Blanche Mains, for the goodness which she did to me;\nbut wit thou well Sir Kehydius for this falsehood and treason thou hast\ndone me, I will revenge it upon thee. And therewithal Sir Tristram drew\nout his sword, and said, Sir Kehydius keep thee, and then La Beale\nIsoud swooned to the earth. And when Sir Kehydius saw Sir Tristram come\nupon him, he saw none other boot, but lept out at a bay window, even\nover the head where sat king Mark playing at the chess. And when the\nking saw one come hurling over his head, he said, Fellow, what art\nthou, and what is the cause thou leapest out of that window? My lord\nthe king, said Kehydius, it fortuned me that I was asleep in the window\nabove your head, and as I slept I slumbered, and so I fell down. And\nthus Sir Kehydius excused him.\n_How Sir Tristram departed from Tintagil, and how he sorrowed, and was\n so long in a forest till he was out of his mind._\nThen Sir Tristram dread sore lest he were discovered unto the king that\nhe was there, wherefore he drew him to the strength of the tower, and\narmed him in such armour as he had, for to fight with them that would\nwithstand him. And so when Sir Tristram saw there was no resistance\nagainst him, he sent Gouvernail for his horse and for his spear, and\nknightly he rode forth out of the castle openly that was called the\ncastle of Tintagil. And even at the gate he met with Gingalin, Sir\nGawaine\u2019s son. And anon Sir Gingalin put his spear in his rest, and ran\nupon Sir Tristram, and brake his spear, and Sir Tristram at that time\nhad but a sword, and gave him such a buffet upon the helm that he fell\ndown from his saddle, and his sword slid down and carved asunder his\nhorse neck. And so Sir Tristram rode his way into the forest, and all\nthis doing saw king Mark. And then he sent a squire unto the hurt\nknight, and commanded him to come to him, and so he did. And when king\nMark wist that it was Sir Gingalin, he welcomed him, and gave him a\nhorse, and asked him what knight it was that had encountered with him.\nSir, said Sir Gingalin, I wot not what knight he was, but well I wot\nthat he sigheth, and maketh great dole. Then Sir Tristram within a\nwhile met with a knight of his own, that hight Sir Fergus. And when he\nhad met with him he made great sorrow, insomuch that he fell down off\nhis horse in a swoon, and in such sorrow he was in three days and three\nnights. Then at the last Sir Tristram sent unto the court by Sir\nFergus, for to ask what tidings. And so as he rode by the way he met\nwith a damsel that came from Sir Palamides, to know and seek how Sir\nTristram did. Then Sir Fergus told her how he was almost out of his\nmind. Alas, said the damsel, where shall I find him? In such a place,\nsaid Sir Fergus. Then Sir Fergus found queen Isoud sick in her bed,\nmaking the greatest dole that ever any earthly woman made. And when the\ndamsel found Sir Tristram, she made great dole because she might not\namend him; for the more she made of him the more was his pain. And at\nthe last Sir Tristram took his horse and rode away from her. And then\nwas it three days or that she could find him, and then she brought him\nmeat and drink, but he would none. And then another time Sir Tristram\nescaped away from the damsel, and it happed him to ride by the same\ncastle where Sir Palamides and Sir Tristram did battle when La Beale\nIsoud departed them. And there by fortune the damsel met with Sir\nTristram again, making the greatest dole that ever earthly creature\nmade, and she went to the lady of that castle, and told her of the\nmisadventure of Sir Tristram. Alas, said the lady of that castle, where\nis my lord Sir Tristram? Right here by your castle, said the damsel. In\ngood time, said the lady, is he so nigh me: he shall have meat and\ndrink of the best, and a harp I have of his whereupon he taught\nme,\u2014for of goodly harping he beareth the prize in the world. So this\nlady and the damsel brought him meat and drink, but he eat little\nthereof. Then upon a night he put his horse from him, and then he\nunlaced his armour, and then Sir Tristram would go into the wilderness,\nand brast down the trees and boughs; and otherwhile, when he found the\nharp that the lady sent him, then would he harp and play thereupon and\nweep together. And sometime when Sir Tristram was in the wood, that the\nlady wist not where he was, then would she sit her down and play upon\nthat harp: then would Sir Tristram come to that harp and hearken\nthereto, and sometime he would harp himself. Thus he there endured a\nquarter of a year. Then at the last he ran his way, and she wist not\nwhere he was become. And then was he naked, and waxed lean and poor of\nflesh, and so he fell into the fellowship of herdmen and shepherds, and\ndaily they would give him of their meat and drink. And when he did any\nshrewd deed they would beat him with rods, and so they clipped him with\nshears and made him like a fool.\n_How Sir Tristram soused Dagonet in a well, and how Palamides sent a\n damsel to seek Tristram, and how Palamides met with king Mark._\nAnd upon a day Sir Dagonet, king Arthur\u2019s fool, came into Cornwall,\nwith two squires with him, and as they rode through that forest they\ncame by a fair well where Sir Tristram was wont to be, and the weather\nwas hot, and they alight to drink of that well, and in the mean while\ntheir horses brake loose. Right so Sir Tristram came unto them, and\nfirst he soused Sir Dagonet in that well, and after his squires, and\nthereat laughed the shepherds, and forthwithal he ran after their\nhorses, and brought them again one by one, and right so, wet as they\nwere, he made them leap up and ride their ways. Thus Sir Tristram\nendured there an half year naked, and would never come in town nor\nvillage. The mean while the damsel that Sir Palamides sent to seek Sir\nTristram she went unto Sir Palamides, and told him all the mischief\nthat Sir Tristram endured. Alas, said Sir Palamides, it is great pity\nthat ever so noble a knight should be so mischieved for the love of a\nlady. But nevertheless I will go and seek him, and comfort him and I\nmay. Then a little before that time La Beale Isoud had commanded Sir\nKehydius out of the country of Cornwall. So Sir Kehydius departed with\na dolorous heart. And by adventure he met with Sir Palamides, and they\nenfellowshipped together, and either complained to other of their love,\nthat they loved La Beale Isoud. Now let us, said Sir Palamides, seek\nSir Tristram that loved her as well as we, and let us prove whether we\nmay recover him. So they rode into that forest, and three days and\nthree nights they would never take their lodging, but ever sought Sir\nTristram. And upon a time by adventure they met with king Mark that was\nridden from his men all alone. When they saw him, Sir Palamides knew\nhim, but Sir Kehydius knew him not. Ah, false king, said Sir Palamides,\nit is pity thou hast thy life, for thou art a destroyer of all\nworshipful knights, and by thy mischief, and thy vengeance, thou hast\ndestroyed that most noble knight Sir Tristram de Liones; and therefore\ndefend thee, said Sir Palamides, for thou shalt die this day. That were\nshame, said king Mark, for ye two are armed, and I am unarmed. As for\nthat, said Sir Palamides, I shall find a remedy therefore. Here is a\nknight with me, and thou shalt have his harness. Nay, said king Mark, I\nwill not have ado with you, for cause have ye none to me. For all the\nmisease that Sir Tristram hath was for a letter that he found; for, as\nto me, I did to him no displeasure, and I am full sorry for his disease\nand malady. So when the king had thus excused him, they were friends,\nand king Mark would have had them unto Tintagil, but Sir Palamides\nwould not, but turned unto the realm of Logris, and Sir Kehydius said\nhe would go into Britanny.\nNow turn we unto Sir Dagonet again, then when he and his squires were\nupon horseback, he deemed that the shepherds had sent that fool to\narray them so because that they laughed at them, and so they rode unto\nthe keepers of beasts, and all to beat them. Sir Tristram saw them\nbeaten that were wont to give him meat and drink, then he ran thither\nand gat Sir Dagonet by the head, and gave him such a fall to the earth\nthat he bruised him sore, so that he lay still. And then he wrast his\nsword out of his hand and therewith he ran to one of his squires and\nsmote off his head, and the other fled. And so Sir Tristram took his\nway with that sword in his hand, running as he had been wild wood. Then\nSir Dagonet rode to king Mark and told him how he had sped in that\nforest. And therefore, said Sir Dagonet, beware, king Mark, that thou\ncome not about that well in the forest, for there is a fool naked, and\nthat fool and I fool met together, and he had almost slain me. Ah, said\nking Mark, that is Sir Matto le Breune, that fell out of his wit\nbecause he lost his lady. For when Sir Gaheris smote down Sir Matto and\nwon his lady of him, never since was he in his mind, and that was pity,\nfor he was a good knight.\n_How it was noised how Sir Tristram was dead, and how La Beale Isoud\n would have slain herself._\nThen Sir Andred that was cousin unto Sir Tristram, made a lady that was\nhis paramour to say and noise it that she was with Sir Tristram or ever\nhe died. And this tale she brought unto king Mark\u2019s court, that she\nburied him by a well, and that or he died he besought king Mark to make\nhis cousin, Sir Andred, king of the country of Liones, of the which Sir\nTristram was lord of. All this did Sir Andred because he would have had\nSir Tristram\u2019s lands. And when king Mark heard tell that Sir Tristram\nwas dead, he wept and made great dole. But when queen Isoud heard of\nthese tidings, she made such sorrow that she was nigh out of her mind.\nAnd so upon a day she thought to slay herself, and never to live after\nSir Tristram\u2019s death. And so upon a day La Beale Isoud gat a sword\nprivily, and bare it into her garden, and there she pight the sword\nthrough a plum tree up to the hilts, so that it stack fast, and it\nstood breast high. And as she would have run upon the sword and to have\nslain herself, all this espied king Mark, how she kneeled down and\nsaid, Sweet Lord Jesu have mercy upon me, for I may not live after the\ndeath of Sir Tristram de Liones, for he was my first love, and he shall\nbe the last. And with these words came king Mark and took her in his\narms, and then he took up the sword, and bare her away with him into a\nstrong tower, and there he made her to be kept, and watched her surely.\nAnd after that she lay long sick, nigh at the point of death. This mean\nwhile ran Sir Tristram naked in the forest with the sword in his hand,\nand so he came to an hermitage, and there he laid him down and slept,\nand in the mean while the hermit stale away his sword, and laid meat\ndown by him. Thus was he kept there a ten days, and at the last he\ndeparted and came to the herdmen again. And there was a giant in that\ncountry that hight Tauleas, and for fear of Sir Tristram more than\nseven years he durst never much go at large, but for the most part he\nkept him in a sure castle of his own. And so this Tauleas heard tell\nthat Sir Tristram was dead, by the noise of the court of king Mark.\nThen this Tauleas went daily at large. And so it happed upon a day he\ncame to the herdmen wandering and lingering, and there he set him down\nto rest among them. The mean while there came a knight of Cornwall that\nled a lady with him, and his name was Sir Dinant. And when the giant\nsaw him, he went from the herdmen and hid him under a tree, and so the\nknight came to the well, and there he alight to repose him. And as soon\nas he was from his horse, the giant Tauleas came betwixt this knight\nand his horse, and took the horse and lept upon him. So forthwith he\nrode unto Sir Dinant and took him by the collar, and pulled him afore\nhim upon his horse, and there would have stricken off his head. Then\nthe herdmen said unto Sir Tristram, Help yonder knight. Help ye him,\nsaid Sir Tristram. We dare not, said the herdmen. Then Sir Tristram was\nware of the sword of the knight there as it lay, and so thither he ran,\nand took up the sword and strake off Sir Tauleas\u2019s head, and so he went\nhis way to the herdmen again.\n_How king Mark found Sir Tristram naked, and made him to be borne home\n to Tintagil, and how he was there known by a brachet._\nThen the knight took up the giant\u2019s head, and bare it with him unto\nking Mark, and told him what adventure betid him in the forest, and how\na naked man rescued him from the grimly giant Tauleas. Where had ye\nthis adventure? said king Mark. Forsooth, said Sir Dinant, at the fair\nfountain in your forest where many adventurous knights meet, and there\nis the mad man. Well, said king Mark, I will see that wild man. So\nwithin a day or two king Mark commanded his knights and his hunters,\nthat they should be ready on the morn for to hunt, and on the morn he\nwent unto that forest. And when the king came to that well, he found\nthere lying by that well a fair naked man, and a sword by him. Then\nking Mark blew and straked, and therewith his knights came to him. And\nthen the king commanded his knights to take that naked man with\nfairness, and bring him to my castle. So they did softly and fair, and\ncast mantles upon Sir Tristram, and so led him unto Tintagil; and there\nthey bathed him and washed him, and gave him hot suppings, till they\nhad brought him well to his remembrance. But all this while there was\nno creature that knew Sir Tristram, nor what man he was. So it fell\nupon a day that the queen La Beale Isoud heard of such a man that ran\nnaked in the forest, and how the king had brought him home to the\ncourt. Then La Beale Isoud called unto her dame Bragwaine, and said,\nCome on with me, for we will go see this man that my lord brought from\nthe forest the last day. So they passed forth, and asked where was the\nsick man. And then a squire told the queen that he was in the garden\ntaking his rest, and reposing him against the sun. So when the queen\nlooked upon Sir Tristram she was not remembered of him. But ever she\nsaid unto dame Bragwaine, Me seemeth I should have seen him heretofore\nin many places. But as soon as Sir Tristram saw her he knew her well\nenough, and then he turned away his visage and wept. Then the queen had\nalways a little brachet with her, that Sir Tristram gave her the first\ntime that ever she came into Cornwall, and never would that brachet\ndepart from her, but if Sir Tristram was nigh there as was La Beale\nIsoud; and this brachet was sent from the king\u2019s daughter of France\nunto Sir Tristram for great love. And anon as this little brachet felt\na savour of Sir Tristram, she leaped upon him, and licked his cheeks\nand his ears, and then she whined and quested, and she smelled at his\nfeet and at his hands, and on all parts of his body that she might come\nto. Ah, my lady, said dame Bragwaine unto La Beale Isoud, alas, alas!\nsaid she, I see it is mine own lord, Sir Tristram. And thereupon Isoud\nfell down in a swoon, and so lay a great while; and when she might\nspeak, she said, My lord Sir Tristram, blessed be God ye have your\nlife; and now I am sure ye shall be discovered by this little brachet,\nfor she will never leave you; and also I am sure as soon as my lord\nking Mark do know you, he will banish you out of the country of\nCornwall, or else he will destroy you. Therefore mine own lord, grant\nking Mark his will, and then draw you unto the court of king Arthur,\nfor there are ye beloved. And ever when I may I shall send unto you,\nand when ye list ye may come to me, and at all times early and late I\nwill be at your commandment to live as poor a life as ever did queen or\nlady. O madam, said Sir Tristram, go from me, for mickle anger and\ndanger have I escaped for your love.\n_How king Mark, by the advice of his council, banished Sir Tristram out\n of Cornwall the term of ten years._\nThen the queen departed, but the brachet would not from him. And\ntherewithal came king Mark, and the brachet sat upon him, and bayed at\nthem all. Therewithal Sir Andred spake and said, Sir, this is Sir\nTristram, I see by the brachet. Nay, said the king, I cannot suppose\nthat. So the king asked him upon his faith what he was, and what was\nhis name. Truly, said he, my name is Sir Tristram de Liones, now do by\nme what ye list. Ah, said king Mark, me repenteth of your recovery. And\nthen he let call his barons to judge Sir Tristram to death. Then many\nof his barons would not assent thereto, and in especial Sir Dinas the\nseneschal and Sir Fergus. And so by the advice of them all Sir Tristram\nwas banished out of the country for ten year, and thereupon he took his\noath upon a book before the king and his barons. And so he was made to\ndepart out of the country of Cornwall, and there were many barons\nbrought him into his ship, of the which some were his friends, and some\nhis foes. And in the mean while there came a knight of king Arthur\u2019s,\nhis name was Dinadan, and his coming was to seek after Sir Tristram.\nThen they shewed him where he was armed at all points, going to the\nship. Now, fair knight, said Sir Dinadan, or ye pass this court, that\nye will just with me I require you. With a good will, said Sir\nTristram, and these lords will give me leave. Then the barons granted\nthereto, and so they ran together, and there Sir Tristram gave Sir\nDinadan a fall. And then he prayed Sir Tristram to give him leave to go\nin his fellowship. Ye shall be right welcome, said then Sir Tristram.\nAnd so they took their horses and rode to their ships together. And\nwhen Sir Tristram was in the sea, he said, Greet well king Mark and all\nmine enemies, and say them I will come again when I may. And well am I\nrewarded for the fighting with Sir Marhaus, and delivering all this\ncountry from servage, and well I am rewarded for the fetching and costs\nof La Beale Isoud out of Ireland, and the danger that I was in first\nand last, and by the way coming home what danger I had to bring again\nqueen Isoud from the castle Pluere. And well am I rewarded when I\nfought with Sir Bleoberis for Sir Segwarides\u2019 wife. And well am I\nrewarded when I fought with Sir Blamor de Ganis for king Anguish,\nfather unto La Beale Isoud. And well am I rewarded when I smote down\nthe good knight Sir Lamorak de Galis at king Mark\u2019s request. And well\nam I rewarded when I fought with the king with the hundred knights, and\nthe king of Northgalis, and both these would have put his land in\nservage, and by me they were put to a rebuke. And well am I rewarded\nfor the slaying of Tauleas the mighty giant, and many more deeds have I\ndone for him, and now have I my warison. And tell king Mark that many\nnoble knights of the Table Round have spared the barons of this country\nfor my sake. Also am I not well rewarded when I fought with the good\nknight Sir Palamides, and rescued queen Isoud from him. And at that\ntime king Mark said afore all his barons, I should have been better\nrewarded. And forthwithal he took the sea.\n_How a damsel sought help to help Sir Launcelot against thirty knights,\n and how Sir Tristram fought with them._\nAnd at the next landing, fast by the sea, there met with Sir Tristram\nand with Sir Dinadan Sir Ector de Maris and Sir Bors de Ganis. And\nthere Sir Ector justed with Sir Dinadan and he smote him and his horse\ndown. And then Sir Tristram would have justed with Sir Bors, and Sir\nBors said he would not just with no Cornish knights, for they are not\ncalled men of worship. And all this was done upon a bridge. And with\nthis came Sir Bleoberis and Sir Driant, and Sir Bleoberis proffered to\njust with Sir Tristram, and there Sir Tristram smote down Sir\nBleoberis. Then said Sir Bors de Ganis, I wist never Cornish knight of\nso great valour nor so valiant as that knight that beareth the\ntrappours embroidered with crowns. And then Sir Tristram and Sir\nDinadan departed from them into a forest, and there met them a damsel\nthat came for the love of Sir Launcelot to seek after some noble\nknights of king Arthur\u2019s court for to rescue Sir Launcelot. And so Sir\nLauncelot was ordained, for by the treason of queen Morgan le Fay to\nhave slain Sir Launcelot, and for that cause she ordained thirty\nknights for to lie in a wait for Sir Launcelot, and this damsel knew\nthis treason. And for this cause the damsel came for to seek noble\nknights to help Sir Launcelot. For that night, or the day after, Sir\nLauncelot should come where these thirty knights were. And so this\ndamsel met with Sir Bors, Sir Bleoberis, Sir Ector, and Sir Driant, and\nthere she told them all four of the treason of Morgan le Fay. And then\nthey promised her that they would be nigh where Sir Launcelot should\nmeet with the thirty knights, and if so be they set upon him we will do\nrescues as we can. So the damsel departed, and by adventure the damsel\nmet with Sir Tristram and with Sir Dinadan, and there the damsel told\nthem all the treason that was ordained for Sir Launcelot. Fair damsel,\nsaid Sir Tristram, bring me to that same place where they should meet\nwith Sir Launcelot. Then said Sir Dinadan, What will ye do? it is not\nfor us to fight with thirty knights, and wit you well I will not\nthereof, as to match one knight two or three is enough, and they be\nmen. But for to match fifteen knights, that will I never undertake. Fie\nfor shame, said Sir Tristram, do but your part. Nay, said Sir Dinadan,\nI will not thereof, but if ye will lend me your shield, for ye bear a\nshield of Cornwall, and for the cowardice that is named to the knights\nof Cornwall, by your shields ye be ever forborn. Nay, said Sir\nTristram, I will not depart from my shield for her sake that gave it\nme. But one thing, said Sir Tristram, I promise thee Sir Dinadan, but\nif thou wilt promise me to abide with me, here I shall slay thee: for I\ndesire no more of thee but to answer one knight, and if thy heart will\nnot serve thee, stand by and look upon me and them. Sir, said Sir\nDinadan, I promise you to look upon and to do what I may to save\nmyself, but I would I had not met with you. So then anon these thirty\nknights came fast by these four knights, and they were ware of them,\nand either of other. And so these thirty knights let them pass for this\ncause, that they would not wrath them if cause be that they had ado\nwith Sir Launcelot, and the four knights let them pass to this intent,\nthat they would see and behold what they would do with Sir Launcelot.\nAnd so the thirty knights past on, and came by Sir Tristram and Sir\nDinadan. And then Sir Tristram cried on high, Lo here is a knight\nagainst you for the love of Sir Launcelot. And there he slew two with\none spear, and ten with his sword. And then came in Sir Dinadan, and he\ndid passing well. And so of the thirty knights there went but ten away,\nand they fled. All this battle saw Sir Bors de Ganis, and his three\nfellows. And then they saw well it was the same knight that justed with\nthem at the bridge. Then they took their horses and rode unto Sir\nTristram, and praised him, and thanked him of his good deeds, and they\nall desired Sir Tristram to go with them to their lodging. And he said\nnay, he would not go to no lodging. Then they all four knights prayed\nhim to tell them his name. Fair lords, said Sir Tristram, as at this\ntime I will not tell you my name.\n_How Sir Tristram and Sir Dinadan came to a lodging where they must\n just with two knights._\nThen Sir Tristram and Sir Dinadan rode forth their way till they came\nto the shepherds and to the herdmen, and there they asked them if they\nknew any lodging or harbour there nigh hand. Forsooth sirs, said the\nherdmen, hereby is good lodging in a castle, but there is such a custom\nthat there shall no knight be harboured but if he just with two\nknights, and if he be but one knight he must just with two. And as ye\nbe therein, soon shall ye be matched. There is shrewd harbour, said Sir\nDinadan, lodge where ye will, for I will not lodge there. Fie for\nshame, said Sir Tristram, are ye not a knight of the Table Round,\nwherefore ye may not with your worship refuse your lodging. Not so,\nsaid the herdmen, for and ye be beaten and have the worse ye shall not\nbe lodged there, and if ye beat them ye shall be well harboured. Ah,\nsaid Sir Dinadan, they are two sure knights. Then Sir Dinadan would not\nlodge there in no manner, but as Sir Tristram required him of his\nknighthood, and so they rode thither. And to make short tale, Sir\nTristram and Sir Dinadan smote them down both, and so they entered into\nthe castle, and had good cheer as they could think or devise. And when\nthey were unarmed, and thought to be merry and in good rest, there came\nin at the gates Sir Palamides and Sir Gaheris, requiring to have the\ncustom of the castle. What array is this? said Sir Dinadan, I would\nhave my rest. That may not be, said Sir Tristram; now must we needs\ndefend the custom of this castle, insomuch as we have the better of the\nlords of this castle, and therefore, said Sir Tristram, needs must ye\nmake you ready. In the devil\u2019s name, said Sir Dinadan, came I into your\ncompany. And so they made them ready. And Sir Gaheris encountered with\nSir Tristram, and Sir Gaheris had a fall, and Sir Palamides encountered\nwith Sir Dinadan, and Sir Dinadan had a fall; then was it fall for\nfall. So then must they fight on foot. That would not Sir Dinadan, for\nhe was so sore bruised of the fall that Sir Palamides gave him. Then\nSir Tristram unlaced Sir Dinadan\u2019s helm, and prayed him to help him. I\nwill not, said Sir Dinadan, for I am sore wounded of the thirty knights\nthat we had but late ago to do withal. But ye fare, said Sir Dinadan\nunto Sir Tristram, as a mad man, and as a man that is out of his mind,\nthat would cast himself away, and I may curse the time that ever I saw\nyou. For in all the world are not two such knights that be so wood as\nis Sir Launcelot and ye Sir Tristram: for once I fell in the fellowship\nof Sir Launcelot as I have now done with you, and he set me a work that\na quarter of a year I kept my bed. Defend me, said Sir Dinadan, from\nsuch two knights, and specially from your fellowship. Then, said Sir\nTristram, I will fight with them both. Then Sir Tristram bad them come\nforth both, for I will fight with you. Then Sir Palamides and Sir\nGaheris dressed them and smote at them both. Then Dinadan smote at Sir\nGaheris a stroke or two, and turned from him. Nay, said Sir Palamides,\nit is too much shame for us two knights to fight with one. And then he\ndid bid Sir Gaheris stand aside with that knight that hath no list to\nfight. Then they rode together and fought long, and at the last Sir\nTristram doubled his strokes and drove Sir Palamides aback more than\nthree strides. And then by one assent Sir Gaheris and Sir Dinadan went\nbetwixt them and departed them in sunder. And then by assent of Sir\nTristram, they would have lodged together. But Sir Dinadan would not\nlodge in that castle, and then he cursed the time that ever he came in\ntheir fellowship. And so he took his horse and his harness and\ndeparted. Then Sir Tristram prayed the lords of that castle to lend him\na man to bring him to a lodging. And so they did, and overtook Sir\nDinadan, and rode to their lodging two miles thence with a good man in\na priory, and there they were well at ease. And that same night, Sir\nBors, and Sir Bleoberis, and Sir Ector, and Sir Driant, abode still in\nthe same place there as Sir Tristram fought with the thirty knights,\nand there they met with Sir Launcelot the same night, and had made\npromise to lodge with Sir Colgrevance the same night.\n_How Sir Tristram justed with Sir Kay and Sir Sagramor le Desirous, and\n how Sir Gawaine turned Sir Tristram from Morgan le Fay._\nBut anon as the noble knight Sir Launcelot heard of the shield of\nCornwall, then wist he well that it was Sir Tristram that fought with\nhis enemies. And then Sir Launcelot praised Sir Tristram, and called\nhim the man of most worship in the world. So there was a knight in that\npriory that hight Pellinore, and he desired to wit the name of Sir\nTristram, but in no wise he could not. And so Sir Tristram departed and\nleft Sir Dinadan in the priory, for he was so weary and so sore bruised\nthat he might not ride. Then this knight, Sir Pellinore, said to Sir\nDinadan, Sithen that ye will not tell me that knight\u2019s name, I will\nride after him and make him to tell me his name, or he shall die\ntherefore. Beware, sir knight, said Sir Dinadan, for and ye follow him\nye shall repent it. So that knight, Sir Pellinore, rode after Sir\nTristram, and required him of justs. Then Sir Tristram smote him down,\nand wounded him through the shoulder, and so he past on his way. And on\nthe next day following Sir Tristram met with pursuivants, and they told\nhim that there was made a great cry of tournament between king Carados\nof Scotland and the king of North Wales, and either should just against\nother at the Castle of Maidens. And these pursuivants sought all the\ncountry after the good knights, and in especial king Carados let make\nseeking for Sir Launcelot, and the king of Northgalis let seek after\nSir Tristram de Liones. And at that time Sir Tristram thought to be at\nthat justs, and so by adventure they met with Sir Kay the seneschal and\nSir Sagramor le Desirous, and Sir Kay required Sir Tristram to just,\nand Sir Tristram in a manner refused him, because he would not be hurt\nnor bruised against the great justs that should be before the Castle of\nMaidens, and therefore he thought to repose him, and to rest him. And\nalway Sir Kay cried, Sir knight of Cornwall, just with me, or else\nyield thee to me as recreant. When Sir Tristram heard him say so, he\nturned to him, and then Sir Kay refused him, and turned his back. Then\nSir Tristram said, As I find thee shall I take thee. Then Sir Kay\nturned with evil will, and Sir Tristram smote Sir Kay down, and so he\nrode forth. Then Sir Sagramor le Desirous rode after Sir Tristram and\nmade him to just with him. And there Sir Tristram smote down Sir\nSagramor le Desirous from his horse, and rode his way, and the same day\nhe met with a damsel that told him that he should win great worship of\na knight adventurous, that did much harm in all that country.\nWhen Sir Tristram heard her say so, he was glad to go with her to win\nworship. So Sir Tristram rode with that damsel a six mile, and then met\nhim Sir Gawaine, and therewithal Sir Gawaine knew the damsel, that she\nwas a damsel of queen Morgan le Fay. Then Sir Gawaine understood that\nshe led that knight to some mischief. Fair knight, said Sir Gawaine,\nwhither ride you now with that damsel? Sir, said Sir Tristram, I wot\nnot whither I shall ride, but as the damsel will lead me. Sir, said Sir\nGawaine, ye shall not ride with her, for she and her lady did never\ngood, but ill. And then Sir Gawaine pulled out his sword, and said,\nDamsel, but if thou tell me anon for what cause thou leadest this\nknight with thee, thou shalt die for it right anon. I know all your\nlady\u2019s treason and yours. Mercy, Sir Gawaine, she said, and if ye will\nsave my life I will tell you. Say on, said Sir Gawaine, and thou shalt\nhave thy life. Sir, she said, queen Morgan le Fay, my lady, hath\nordained a thirty ladies to seek and espy after Sir Launcelot or Sir\nTristram, and by the trains of these ladies, who that may first meet\nwith any of these two knights, they should turn them unto Morgan le\nFay\u2019s castle, saying that they should do deeds of worship, and if any\nof those two knights came there, there be thirty knights lying and\nwatching in a tower to wait upon Sir Launcelot, or upon Sir Tristram.\nFie for shame, said Sir Gawaine, that ever such false treason should be\nwrought or used in a queen and a king\u2019s sister, and a king and queen\u2019s\ndaughter.\n_How Sir Tristram and Sir Gawaine rode to have fought against the\n thirty knights, but they durst not come out._\nSir, said Sir Gawaine, will ye stand with me, and we will see the\nmalice of these thirty knights? Sir, said Sir Tristram, go ye to them\nand it please you, and ye shall see I will not fail you, for it is not\nlong ago since I and a fellow met with thirty knights of that queen\u2019s\nfellowship; and God speed us so that we may win worship. So then Sir\nGawaine and Sir Tristram rode toward the castle where Morgan le Fay\nwas, and ever Sir Gawaine deemed well that he was Sir Tristram de\nLiones, because he heard that two knights had slain and beaten thirty\nknights. And when they came afore the castle Sir Gawaine spake on high,\nand said, Queen Morgan le Fay, send out your knights that ye have laid\nin a watch for Sir Launcelot, and for Sir Tristram. Now, said Sir\nGawaine, I know your false treason, and through all places where that I\nride men shall know of your false treason. And now let see Sir Gawaine\nwhether ye dare come out of your castle ye thirty knights. Then the\nqueen spake and all the thirty knights at once, and said, Sir Gawaine,\nfull well wotest thou what thou dost and sayest; for we know thee\npassing well; but all that thou speakest and dost thou sayest it upon\npride of that good knight that is there with thee. For there be some of\nus that know full well the hands of that knight over all well, and wit\nthou well, Sir Gawaine, it is more for his sake than for thine that we\nwill not come out of this castle. For wit ye well, Sir Gawaine, that\nknight that beareth the arms of Cornwall we know him, and what he is.\nThen Sir Gawaine and Sir Tristram departed, and rode on their ways a\nday or two together, and there by adventure they met with Sir Kay and\nSir Sagramor le Desirous. And then they were glad of Sir Gawaine, and\nhe of them, but they wist not what he was with the shield of Cornwall\nbut by deeming. And thus they rode together a day or two. And then they\nwere ware of Sir Breuse Sance Pit\u00e9 chasing a lady for to have slain\nher, for he had slain her lover before. Hold you all still, said Sir\nGawaine, and shew none of you forth, and ye shall see me reward yonder\nfalse knight, for and he espy you he is so well horsed that he will\nescape away. And then Sir Gawaine rode betwixt Sir Breuse and the lady,\nand said, False knight, leave her and have ado with me. When Sir Breuse\nsaw no more but Sir Gawaine he feutred his spear, and Sir Gawaine\nagainst him, and there Sir Breuse overthrew Sir Gawaine, and then he\nrode over him and overthwart him twenty times, to have destroyed him;\nand when Sir Tristram saw him do so villainous a deed, he hurled out\nagainst him. And when Sir Breuse saw him with the shield of Cornwall,\nhe knew him well that it was Sir Tristram, and then he fled, and Sir\nTristram followed after him. And Sir Breuse Sance Pit\u00e9 was so horsed\nthat he went his way quite. And Sir Tristram followed him long, for he\nwould fain have been avenged upon him. And so when he had long chased\nhim he saw a fair well, and thither he rode to repose him, and tied his\nhorse to a tree.\n_How damsel Bragwaine found Tristram sleeping by a well, and how she\n delivered letters to him from La Beale Isoud._\nAnd then he pulled off his helm, and washed his visage and his hands,\nand so he fell on sleep. In the mean while came a damsel that had\nsought Sir Tristram many ways and days within this land. And when she\ncame to the well she looked upon him, and had forgotten him as in\nremembrance of Sir Tristram, but by his horse she knew him, that hight\nPasse-Brewel, that had been Sir Tristram\u2019s horse many years. For when\nhe was mad in the forest, Sir Fergus kept him. So this lady dame\nBragwaine abode still till he was awake. So when she saw him wake she\nsaluted him, and he her again, for either knew other of old\nacquaintance. Then she told him how she had sought him long and broad,\nand there she told him how she had letters from queen La Beale Isoud.\nThen anon Sir Tristram read them, and wit ye well he was glad, for\ntherein was many a piteous complaint. Then Sir Tristram said, Lady\nBragwaine, ye shall ride with me till that tournament be done at the\nCastle of Maidens; and then shall ye bear letters and tidings with you.\nAnd then Sir Tristram took his horse and sought lodging, and there he\nmet with a good ancient knight that prayed him to lodge with him. Right\nso came Gouvernail unto Sir Tristram, that was glad of that lady. So\nthis old knight\u2019s name was Sir Pellounes, and he told of the great\ntournament that should be at the Castle of Maidens. And there Sir\nLauncelot and thirty-two knights of his blood had ordained shields of\nCornwall. And right so there came one unto Sir Pellounes and told him\nthat Sir Persides de Bloise was come home, and then that knight held up\nhis hands and thanked God of his coming home, and there Sir Pellounes\ntold Sir Tristram that in two years he had not seen his son Sir\nPersides. Sir, said Sir Tristram, I know your son well enough for a\ngood knight. So on a time Sir Tristram and Sir Persides came to their\nlodging both at once, and so they unarmed them, and put upon them their\nclothing. And then these two knights each welcomed other. And when\nPersides understood that Sir Tristram was of Cornwall, he said he was\nonce in Cornwall,\u2014and there I justed afore king Mark, and so it happed\nme at that time to overthrow ten knights, and then came to me Sir\nTristram de Liones and overthrew me, and took my lady from me, and that\nI shall never forget, but I shall remember me and ever I see my time.\nAh, said Sir Tristram, now I understand that ye hate Sir Tristram. What\ndeem ye, ween ye that Sir Tristram is not able to withstand your\nmalice? Yes, said Sir Persides, I know well that Sir Tristram is a\nnoble knight, and a much better knight than I, yet shall I not owe him\nmy good will. Right as they stood thus talking at a bay window of that\ncastle, they saw many knights riding to and fro toward the tournament.\nAnd then was Sir Tristram ware of a likely knight riding upon a great\nblack horse, and a black covered shield. What knight is that, said Sir\nTristram, with the black horse and the black shield? He seemeth to be a\ngood knight. I know him well, said Sir Persides, he is one of the best\nknights of the world. Then is it Sir Launcelot, said Sir Tristram. Nay,\nsaid Sir Persides, it is Sir Palamides, that is yet unchristened.\n_How Sir Tristram had a fall of Sir Palamides, and how Launcelot\n overthrew two knights._\nThen they saw much people of the country salute Sir Palamides. And\nwithin a while after there came a squire of the castle that told Sir\nPellounes, that was lord of that castle, that a knight with a black\nshield had smitten down thirteen knights. Fair brother, said Sir\nTristram unto Sir Persides, let us cast upon us our cloaks, and let us\ngo see the play. Not so, said Sir Persides, we will not go like knaves\nthither, but we will ride like men and good knights to withstand our\nenemies. So they armed them, and took their horses, and great spears,\nand thither they went, there as many knights assayed themselves before\nthe tournament. And anon Sir Palamides saw Sir Persides, and then he\nsent a squire unto him, and said, Go thou to the yonder knight with a\ngreen shield and therein a lion of gold, and say to him I require him\nto just with me, and tell him that my name is Sir Palamides. When Sir\nPersides understood that request of Sir Palamides he made him ready.\nAnd there anon they met together, but Sir Persides had a fall. Then Sir\nTristram dressed him to be revenged upon Sir Palamides. And that saw\nSir Palamides, that was ready, and so was not Sir Tristram, and took\nhim at advantage, and smote him over his horse tail when he had no\nspear in his rest. Then start up Sir Tristram, and took his horse\nlightly, and was wroth out of measure, and sore ashamed of that fall.\nThen Sir Tristram sent unto Sir Palamides by Gouvernail his squire, and\nprayed him to just with him at his request. Nay, said Sir Palamides, as\nat this time I will not just with that knight, for I know him better\nthan he weeneth. And if he be wroth, he may right it to-morn at the\nCastle of Maidens, where he may see me and many other knights. With\nthat came Sir Dinadan, and when he saw Sir Tristram wroth he list not\nto jest. Lo, said Sir Dinadan, here may a man prove, be a man never so\ngood yet may he have a fall, and he was never so wise but he might be\noverseen, and he rideth well that never fell. So Sir Tristram was\npassing wroth, and said to Sir Persides and Sir Dinadan, I will revenge\nme. Right so as they stood talking there, there came by Sir Tristram a\nlikely knight, riding passing soberly and heavily, with a black shield.\nWhat knight is that? said Sir Tristram unto Sir Persides. I know him\nwell, said Sir Persides, for his name is Sir Briant of North Wales: so\nhe past on among other knights of North Wales. And there came in Sir\nLauncelot du Lake with a shield of the arms of Cornwall, and he sent a\nsquire unto Sir Briant, and required him to just with him. Well, said\nSir Briant, since I am required to just I will do what I may. And there\nSir Launcelot smote down Sir Briant from his horse a great fall. And\nthen Sir Tristram marvelled what knight he was that bare the shield of\nCornwall. Whatsoever he be, said Sir Dinadan, I warrant you he is of\nking Ban\u2019s blood, the which be knights of the most noble prowess in the\nworld, for to account so many for so many. Then there came two knights\nof Northgalis, the one hight Hew de la Montaine, and the other Sir\nMadok de la Montaine, and they challenged Sir Launcelot foot hot. Sir\nLauncelot not refusing them, but made him ready, with one spear he\nsmote them down both over their horse croups, and so Sir Launcelot rode\nhis way. By my faith, said Sir Tristram, he is a good knight that\nbeareth the shield of Cornwall, and me seemeth he rideth in the best\nmanner that ever I saw knight ride. Then the king of Northgalis rode\nunto Sir Palamides, and prayed him heartily for his sake to just with\nthat knight that hath done us of Northgalis despite. Sir, said Sir\nPalamides, I am full loth to have ado with that knight, and cause why\nis for as to-morn the great tournament shall be, and therefore I will\nkeep myself fresh by my will. Nay, said the king of Northgalis, I pray\nyou require him of justs. Sir, said Sir Palamides, I will just at your\nrequest, and require that knight to just with me; and often I have seen\na man have a fall at his own request.\n_How Sir Launcelot justed with Palamides and overthrew him, and after\n he was assailed with twelve knights._\nThen Sir Palamides sent unto Sir Launcelot a squire, and required him\nof justs. Fair fellow, said Sir Launcelot, tell me thy lord\u2019s name.\nSir, said the squire, my lord\u2019s name is Sir Palamides the good knight.\nIn good hour, said Sir Launcelot, for there is no knight that I saw\nthis seven years that I had lever have ado withal than with him. And so\neither knights made them ready with two great spears. Nay, said Sir\nDinadan, ye shall see that Sir Palamides will quit him right well. It\nmay be so, said Sir Tristram, but I undertake that knight with the\nshield of Cornwall shall give him a fall. I believe it not, said Sir\nDinadan. Right so they spurred their horses, and feutred their spears,\nand either hit other, and Sir Palamides brake a spear upon Sir\nLauncelot, and he sat and moved not, but Sir Launcelot smote him so\nlightly that he made his horse to avoid the saddle, and the stroke\nbrake his shield and the hauberk, and had he not fallen he had been\nslain. How now, said Sir Tristram, I wist well by the manner of their\nriding both that Sir Palamides should have a fall. Right so Sir\nLauncelot rode his way, and rode to a well to drink and to repose him,\nand they of Northgalis espied him whither he rode, and then there\nfollowed him twelve knights for to have mischieved him, for this cause,\nthat upon the morn, at the tournament of the Castle of Maidens, that he\nshould not win the victory. So they came upon Sir Launcelot suddenly,\nand scarcely he might put upon him his helm and take his horse but they\nwere in hands with him. And then Sir Launcelot gat his spear and rode\nthrough them, and there he slew a knight, and brake his spear in his\nbody. Then he drew his sword and smote upon the right hand and upon the\nleft hand, so that within a few strokes he had slain other three\nknights, and the remnant that abode he wounded them sore, all that did\nabide. Thus Sir Launcelot escaped from his enemies of North Wales, and\nthen he rode forth on his way to a friend, and lodged him till on the\nmorn, for he would not the first day have ado in the tournament,\nbecause of his great labour. And on the first day he was with king\nArthur, there as he was set on high upon a scaffold, to discern who was\nbest worthy of his deeds. So Sir Launcelot was with king Arthur, and\njusted not the first day.\n_How Sir Tristram behaved him the first day of the tournament, and\n there he had the prize._\nNow turn we unto Sir Tristram de Liones, that commanded Gouvernail his\nservant to ordain him a black shield with none other remembrance\ntherein. And so Sir Persides and Sir Tristram departed from their host\nSir Pellounes and they rode early toward the tournament, and then they\ndrew them to king Carados\u2019 side of Scotland: and anon knights began the\nfield, what of the king of Northgalis\u2019 part, and what of king Carados\u2019\npart, and there began great party. Then there was hurling and rashing.\nRight so came in Sir Persides and Sir Tristram, and so they did fare\nthat they put the king of Northgalis aback. Then came in Sir Bleoberis\nde Ganis and Sir Gaheris with them of Northgalis, and then was Sir\nPersides smitten down and almost slain, for more than forty horsemen\nwent over him. For Sir Bleoberis did great deeds of arms, and Sir\nGaheris failed him not. When Sir Tristram beheld them, and saw them do\nsuch deeds of arms, he marvelled what they were. Also Sir Tristram\nthought shame that Sir Persides was so done to; and then he gat a great\nspear in his hand, and then he rode to Sir Gaheris and smote him down\nfrom his horse. And then was Bleoberis wroth, and gat a spear and rode\nagainst Sir Tristram in great ire, and there Sir Tristram met with him,\nand smote Sir Bleoberis from his horse. So then the king with the\nhundred knights was wroth, and he horsed Sir Bleoberis and Sir Gaheris\nagain, and there began a great meddle; and ever Sir Tristram held them\npassing short, and ever Sir Bleoberis was passing busy upon Sir\nTristram. And there came Sir Dinadan against Sir Tristram, and Sir\nTristram gave him such a buffet that he swooned in his saddle. Then\nanon Sir Dinadan came to Sir Tristram, and said, Sir, I know thee\nbetter than thou weenest, but here I promise thee my troth I will never\ncome against thee more, for I promise thee that sword of thine shall\nnever come on my helm. With that came Sir Bleoberis, and Sir Tristram\ngave him such a buffet that down he laid his head: and then he caught\nhim so sore by the helm that he pulled him under his horse feet. And\nthen king Arthur blew to lodging. Then Sir Tristram departed to his\npavilion, and Sir Dinadan rode with him. And Sir Persides and king\nArthur then, and the kings upon both parties, marvelled what knight\nthat was with the black shield. Many said their advice, and some knew\nhim for Sir Tristram, and held their peace, and would nought say. So\nthat first day king Arthur and all the kings and lords that were judges\ngave Sir Tristram the prize, how be it they knew him not, but named him\nthe knight with the black shield.\n_How Sir Tristram returned against king Arthur\u2019s party, because he saw\n Sir Palamides on that party._\nThen upon the morn Sir Palamides returned from the king of Northgalis,\nand rode to king Arthur\u2019s side, where was king Carados, and the king of\nIreland, and Sir Launcelot\u2019s kin, and Sir Gawaine\u2019s kin. So Sir\nPalamides sent the damsel unto Sir Tristram that he sent to seek him\nwhen he was out of his mind in the forest; and this damsel asked Sir\nTristram what he was, and what was his name. As for that, said Sir\nTristram, tell Sir Palamides he shall not wit as at this time, unto the\ntime I have broken two spears upon him. But let him wit thus much, said\nSir Tristram, that I am the same knight that he smote down in over\nevening at the tournament, and tell him plainly, on what part that Sir\nPalamides be I will be on the contrary part. Sir, said the damsel, ye\nshall understand that Sir Palamides will be on king Arthur\u2019s side,\nwhere the most noble knights of the world be. Then, said Sir Tristram,\nwill I be with the king of Northgalis, because Sir Palamides will be on\nking Arthur\u2019s side, and else I would not but for his sake. So when king\nArthur was come they blew unto the field, and then there began a great\nparty, and so king Carados justed with the king with the hundred\nknights, and there king Carados had a fall; then there was hurling and\nrashing, and right so came in knights of king Arthur\u2019s, and they bare\nback the king of Northgalis\u2019 knights. Then Sir Tristram came in, and\nbegan so roughly and so bigly that there was none might withstand him,\nand thus Sir Tristram endured long. And at the last Sir Tristram fell\namong the fellowship of king Ban, and there fell upon him Sir Bors de\nGanis, and Sir Ector de Maris, and Sir Blamor de Ganis, and many other\nknights. And then Sir Tristram smote on the right hand and on the left\nhand, that all lords and ladies spake of his noble deeds. But at the\nlast Sir Tristram should have had the worse had not the king with the\nhundred knights been. And then he came with his fellowship and rescued\nSir Tristram, and brought him away from those knights that bare the\nshields of Cornwall. And then Sir Tristram saw another fellowship by\nthemselves, and there were a forty knights together, and Sir Kay the\nseneschal was their governor. Then Sir Tristram rode in amongst them,\nand there he smote down Sir Kay from his horse, and there he fared\namong those knights like a grey hound among conies. Then Sir Launcelot\nfound a knight that was sore wounded upon the head. Sir, said Sir\nLauncelot, who wounded you so sore? Sir, he said, a knight that beareth\na black shield, and I may curse the time that ever I met with him, for\nhe is a devil and no man. So Sir Launcelot departed from him, and\nthought to meet with Sir Tristram, and so he rode with his sword drawn\nin his hand to seek Sir Tristram, and then he espied him how he hurled\nhere and there, and at every stroke Sir Tristram well nigh smote down a\nknight. O mercy, said the king, sith the time I bare arms saw I never\nno knight do so marvellous deeds of arms. And if I should set upon this\nknight, said Sir Launcelot to himself, I did shame to myself; and\ntherewithal Sir Launcelot put up his sword. And then the king with the\nhundred knights and a hundred more of North Wales set upon the twenty\nof Sir Launcelot\u2019s kin: and they twenty knights held them ever together\nas wild swine, and none would fail other. And so when Sir Tristram\nbeheld the noblesse of these twenty knights, he marvelled of their good\ndeeds, for he saw by their fare and by their rule, that they had lever\ndie than avoid the field. Now, said Sir Tristram, well may he be\nvaliant and full of prowess that hath such a sort of noble knights unto\nhis kin, and full like is he to be a noble man that is their leader and\ngovernor. He meant it by Sir Launcelot du Lake. So when Sir Tristram\nhad beholden them long, he thought shame to see two hundred knights\nbattering upon twenty knights. Then Sir Tristram rode unto the king\nwith the hundred knights and said, Sir, leave your fighting with those\ntwenty knights, for ye win no worship of them, ye be so many, and they\nso few; and wit ye well they will not out of the field, I see by their\ncheer and countenance; and worship get ye none and ye slay them.\nTherefore leave your fighting with them, for I to increase my worship I\nwill ride to the twenty knights and help them with all my might and\npower. Nay, said the king with the hundred knights, ye shall not do so.\nNow I see your courage and courtesy I will withdraw my knights for your\npleasure, for evermore a good knight will favour another, and like will\ndraw to like.\n_How Sir Tristram found Palamides by a well, and brought him with him\n to his lodging._\nThen the king with the hundred knights withdrew his knights. And all\nthis while, and long tofore, Sir Launcelot had watched upon Sir\nTristram with a very purpose to have fellowshipped with him. And then\nsuddenly Sir Tristram, Sir Dinadan, and Gouvernail his man, rode their\nway into the forest, that no man perceived where they went. So then\nking Arthur blew unto lodging, and gave the king of Northgalis the\nprize, because Sir Tristram was upon his side. Then Sir Launcelot rode\nhere and there, so wood as lion that wanted his fill, because he had\nlost Sir Tristram, and so he returned unto king Arthur. And then in all\nthe field was a noise that with the wind it might be heard two mile\nthence, how the lords and ladies cried. The knight with the black\nshield hath won the field. Alas, said king Arthur, where is that knight\nbecome? It is shame to all those in the field so to let him escape away\nfrom you; but with gentleness and courtesy ye might have brought him\nunto me to the Castle of Maidens. Then the noble king Arthur went unto\nhis knights, and comforted them in the best wise that he could, and\nsaid, My fair fellows be not dismayed, howbeit ye have lost the field\nthis day. And many were hurt and sore wounded, and many were whole. My\nfellows, said king Arthur, look that ye be of good cheer, for to-morrow\nI will be in the field with you, and revenge you of your enemies.\nSo that night king Arthur and his knights reposed themselves. The\ndamsel that came from La Beale Isoud unto Sir Tristram, all the while\nthe tournament was a doing she was with queen Guenever, and ever the\nqueen asked her for what cause she came into that country. Madam, she\nanswered, I come for none other cause but from my lady La Beale Isoud\nto wit of your welfare. For in no wise she would not tell the queen\nthat she came for Sir Tristram\u2019s sake. So this lady, dame Bragwaine,\ntook her leave of queen Guenever, and she rode after Sir Tristram. And\nas she rode through the forest she heard a great cry, then she\ncommanded her squire to go into that forest to wit what was that noise.\nAnd so he came to a well, and there he found a knight bound to a tree,\ncrying as he had been wood, and his horse and his harness standing by\nhim. And when he espied the squire, therewith he started and brake\nhimself loose, and took his sword in his hand, and ran to have slain\nthat squire. Then he took his horse and fled all that ever he might\nunto dame Bragwaine again, and told her of his adventure. Then she rode\nunto Sir Tristram\u2019s pavilion, and told Sir Tristram what adventure she\nhad found in the forest. Alas, said Sir Tristram, upon my head there is\nsome good knight at mischief. Then Sir Tristram took his horse and his\nsword and rode thither, and there he heard how the knight complained\nunto himself, and said, I, woeful knight, Sir Palamides, what\nmisadventure befalleth me, that thus am defoiled with falsehood and\ntreason, through Sir Bors and Sir Ector. Alas, he said, why live I so\nlong! And then he gat his sword in his hands, and made many strange\nsigns and tokens, and so through his raging he threw his sword into\nthat fountain. Then Sir Palamides wailed and wrang his hands. And at\nthe last, for pure sorrow, he ran into that fountain over his middle,\nand sought after his sword. Then Sir Tristram saw that, and ran upon\nSir Palamides, and held him in his arms fast. What art thou, said Sir\nPalamides, that holdeth me so? I am a man of this forest that would\nthee none harm. Alas, said Sir Palamides, I may never win worship where\nSir Tristram is, for ever where he is and I be there then get I no\nworship, and if he be away for the most part I have the gree, unless\nthat Sir Launcelot du Lake be there or Sir Lamorak. Then Sir Palamides\nsaid: Once in Ireland Sir Tristram put me to the worse, and another\ntime in Cornwall, and in other places in this land. What would ye do,\nsaid Sir Tristram, and ye had Sir Tristram? I would fight with him,\nsaid Sir Palamides, and ease my heart upon him, and yet, to say the\nsooth, Sir Tristram is the gentlest knight in this world living. What\nwill ye do? said Sir Tristram, will ye go with me to your lodging? Nay,\nsaid he, I will go to the king with the hundred knights, for he rescued\nme from Sir Bors de Ganis and Sir Ector, and else had I been slain\ntraitourly. Sir Tristram said him such kind words that Sir Palamides\nwent with him to his lodging. Then Gouvernail went tofore and charged\ndame Bragwaine to go out of the way to her lodging, and bid ye Sir\nPersides that he make him no quarrels. And so they rode together till\nthey came to Sir Tristram\u2019s pavilion, and there Sir Palamides had all\nthe cheer that might be had all that night. But in no wise Sir\nPalamides might not know what was Sir Tristram. And so after supper\nthey went to rest, and Sir Tristram for great travail slept till it was\nday. And Sir Palamides might not sleep for anguish, and in the dawning\nof the day he took his horse privily and rode his way unto Sir Gaheris\nand to Sir Sagramor le Desirous, where they were in their pavilions,\nfor they three were fellows at the beginning of the tournament. And\nthen upon the morn the king blew unto the tournament upon the third day.\n_How Sir Tristram smote down Sir Palamides, and how he justed with king\n Arthur, and other feats._\nSo the king of Northgalis and the king with the hundred knights, they\ntwo encountered with king Carados and with the king of Ireland, and\nthere the king with the hundred knights smote down king Carados, and\nthe king of Northgalis smote down the king of Ireland. With that came\nin Sir Palamides, and when he came he made great work, for by his\nindented shield he was well known. So came in king Arthur and did great\ndeeds of arms together, and put the king of Northgalis and the king\nwith the hundred knights to the worse. With this came in Sir Tristram\nwith his black shield, and anon he justed with Sir Palamides, and there\nby fine force Sir Tristram smote Sir Palamides over his horse croup.\nThen king Arthur cried, Knight with the black shield make thee ready to\nme. And in the same wise Sir Tristram smote king Arthur. And then by\nforce of king Arthur\u2019s knights the king and Sir Palamides were horsed\nagain. Then king Arthur with a great eager heart gat a spear in his\nhand, and there upon the one side he smote Sir Tristram over his horse.\nThen foot-hot Sir Palamides came upon Sir Tristram as he was on foot,\nto have over-ridden him. Then Sir Tristram was ware of him, and there\nhe stooped aside, and with great ire he gat him by the arm, and pulled\nhim down from his horse. Then Sir Palamides lightly arose, and then\nthey dashed together mightily with their swords, and many kings,\nqueens, and lords stood and beheld them. And at the last Sir Tristram\nsmote Sir Palamides upon the helm three mighty strokes, and at every\nstroke that he gave him he said, Have this for Sir Tristram\u2019s sake.\nWith that Sir Palamides fell to the earth groveling. And then came the\nking with the hundred knights and brought Sir Tristram an horse, and so\nwas he horsed again. By then was Sir Palamides horsed, and with great\nire he justed upon Sir Tristram with his spear as it was in the rest,\nand gave him a great dash with his spear. Then Sir Tristram avoided his\nspear and gat him by the neck with his both hands, and pulled him clean\nout of his saddle, and so he bare him afore him the length of ten\nspears, and then in the presence of them all he let him fall at his\nadventure. Then Sir Tristram was ware of king Arthur with a naked sword\nin his hand, and with his spear Sir Tristram ran upon king Arthur, and\nthen king Arthur boldly abode him, and with his sword he smote a-two\nhis spear, and therewithal Sir Tristram was astonished, and so king\nArthur gave him three or four great strokes or he might get out his\nsword, and at the last Sir Tristram drew his sword and assailed other\npassing hard. With that the great press parted, then Sir Tristram rode\nhere and there and did his great pain, that eleven of the good knights\nof the blood of king Ban, that was of Sir Launcelot\u2019s kin, that day Sir\nTristram smote down, that all the estates marvelled of his great deeds,\nand all cried upon the knight with the black shield.\n_How Sir Launcelot hurt Sir Tristram, and how after Sir Tristram smote\n down Palamides._\nThen this cry was so large that Sir Launcelot heard it. And then he gat\na great spear in his hand, and came towards the cry. Then Sir Launcelot\ncried, The knight with the black shield, make thee ready to just with\nme. When Sir Tristram heard him say so, he gat his spear in his hand,\nand either abashed down their heads, and came together as thunder, and\nSir Tristram\u2019s spear brake in pieces, and Sir Launcelot by mal-fortune\nstruck Sir Tristram on the side a deep wound nigh to the death. But yet\nSir Tristram avoided not his saddle, and so the spear brake:\ntherewithal Sir Tristram that was wounded gat out his sword, and he\nrashed to Sir Launcelot, and gave him three great strokes upon the helm\nthat the fire spang there out, and Sir Launcelot abashed his head lowly\ntoward his saddle-bow. And therewithal Sir Tristram departed from the\nfield, for he felt him so wounded that he wend he should have died. And\nSir Dinadan espied him, and followed him into the forest. Then Sir\nLauncelot abode and did many marvellous deeds. So when Sir Tristram was\ndeparted by the forest side, he alight, and unlaced his harness and\nrefreshed his wound. Then wend Sir Dinadan that he should have died.\nNay, nay, said Sir Tristram, Dinadan never dread thee, for I am heart\nwhole, and of this wound I shall soon be whole by the mercy of God. By\nthat Sir Dinadan was ware where came Sir Palamides riding straight upon\nthem. And then Sir Tristram was ware that Sir Palamides came to have\ndestroyed him. And so Sir Dinadan gave him warning and said, Sir\nTristram, my lord, ye are so sore wounded that ye may not have ado with\nhim, therefore I will ride against him and do to him what I may; and if\nI be slain ye may pray for my soul, and in the meanwhile ye may\nwithdraw you and go into the castle, or into the forest, that he shall\nnot meet with you. Sir Tristram smiled and said, I thank you, Sir\nDinadan, of your good will, but ye shall wit that I am able to handle\nhim. And then anon hastily he armed him and took his horse and gat a\ngreat spear in his hand, and said to Sir Dinadan, Adieu, and rode\ntoward Sir Palamides a soft pace.\nThen when Sir Palamides saw that, he made countenance to amend his\nhorse; but he did it for this cause, for he abode Sir Gaheris that came\nafter him. And when he was come, he rode toward Sir Tristram. Then Sir\nTristram sent unto Sir Palamides and required him to just with him; and\nif he smote down Sir Palamides he would do no more to him; and if it so\nhappened that Sir Palamides smote down Sir Tristram he bad him do his\nutterance. So they were accorded. Then they met together, and Sir\nTristram smote down Sir Palamides, that he had a grievous fall, so that\nhe lay still as he had been dead. And then Sir Tristram ran upon Sir\nGaheris, and he would not have justed, but whether he would or not Sir\nTristram smote him over his horse croup, that he lay still as though he\nhad been dead. And then Sir Tristram rode his way, and left Sir\nPersides\u2019 squire within the pavilions, and Sir Tristram and Sir Dinadan\nrode to an old knight\u2019s place to lodge them. And that old knight had\nfive sons at the tournament, for whom he prayed heartily for their\ncoming home. And so, as the French book saith, they came home all five\nwell beaten.\nAnd when Sir Tristram departed into the forest, Sir Launcelot held\nalway the fight like hard as a man enraged that took no heed to\nhimself, and wit ye well there was many a noble knight against him. And\nwhen king Arthur saw Sir Launcelot do so marvellous deeds of arms, he\nthen armed him, and took his horse and armour, and rode into the field\nto help Sir Launcelot, and so many knights came in with king Arthur.\nAnd to make short tale, in conclusion, the king of Northgalis and the\nking of the hundred knights were put to the worse, and because Sir\nLauncelot abode and was the last in the field, the prize was given him.\nBut Sir Launcelot would neither for king, queen, nor knight have the\nprize. But where the cry was cried through the field, Sir Launcelot,\nSir Launcelot, hath won the field this day, Sir Launcelot let make\nanother cry contrary, Sir Tristram hath won the field, for he began\nfirst, and last he hath endured, and so hath he done the first day, the\nsecond, and the third day.\n_How the prize of the third day was given to Sir Launcelot, and Sir\n Launcelot gave it unto Sir Tristram._\nThen all the estates and degrees high and low said of Sir Launcelot\ngreat worship for the honour that he did unto Sir Tristram, and for\nthat honour doing to Sir Tristram he was at that time more praised and\nrenowned than if he had overthrown five hundred knights: and all the\npeople wholly for this gentleness, first the estates both high and low,\nand after the commonalty, cried at once, Sir Launcelot hath won the\nfield, whosoever say nay. Then was Sir Launcelot wroth and ashamed, and\nso therewithal he rode to king Arthur. Alas, said the king, we are all\ndismayed that Sir Tristram is thus departed from us. Truly, said king\nArthur, he is one of the noblest knights that ever I saw hold spear or\nsword in hand, and the most courteyest knight in his fighting, for full\nhard I saw him, said king Arthur, when he smote Sir Palamides upon his\nhelm, thrice that he abashed his helm with his strokes, and also he\nsaid, here is a stroke for Sir Tristram, and thus thrice he said. Then\nking Arthur, Sir Launcelot, and Sir Dodinas le Savage took their horses\nto seek Sir Tristram, and by the means of Sir Persides he had told king\nArthur where Sir Tristram was in his pavilion, but when they came there\nSir Tristram and Sir Dinadan were gone. Then king Arthur and Sir\nLauncelot were heavy, and returned again to the Castle of Maidens\nmaking great dole for the hurt of Sir Tristram, and his sudden\ndeparting. Truly, said king Arthur, I am more heavy that I cannot meet\nwith him than for all the hurts that all my knights have had at the\ntournament. Right so came Sir Gaheris and told to king Arthur how Sir\nTristram had smitten down Sir Palamides, and it was at Sir Palamides\u2019s\nown request. Alas, said king Arthur, that was great dishonour to Sir\nPalamides, inasmuch as Sir Tristram was sore wounded, and now may we\nall, kings, and knights, and men of worship, say that Sir Tristram may\nbe called a noble knight, and one of the best knights that ever I saw\nthe days of my life. For I will that ye all kings and knights know,\nsaid king Arthur, that I never saw knight do so marvellously as he hath\ndone these three days, for he was the first that began, and that\nlongest held on, save this last day. And though he was hurt, it was a\nmanly adventure of two noble knights: and when two noble men encounter\nneeds must the one have the worse, like as God will suffer at that\ntime. As for me, said Sir Launcelot, for all the lands that ever my\nfather left me I would not have hurt Sir Tristram and I had known him\nat that time. That I hurt him was for I saw not his shield, for if I\nhad seen his black shield I would not have meddled with him for many\ncauses, for late he did as much for me as ever knight did, and that is\nwell known that he had ado with thirty knights, and no help save Sir\nDinadan. And one thing shall I promise, said Sir Launcelot, Sir\nPalamides shall repent it, as in his unkindly dealing for to follow\nthat noble knight that I by mishap hurt thus. Sir Launcelot said all\nthe worship that might be said by Sir Tristram. Then king Arthur made a\ngreat feast to all that would come.\nAnd thus let we pass king Arthur, and a little we will turn unto Sir\nPalamides, that, after he had a fall of Sir Tristram, he was nigh hand\nenraged out of his wit for despite of Sir Tristram. And so he followed\nhim by adventure. And as he came by a river in his woodness he would\nhave made his horse to have lept over; and the horse failed footing and\nfell in the river, wherefore Sir Palamides was adread lest he should\nhave been drowned, and then he avoided his horse and swam to the land,\nand let his horse go down by adventure.\n_How Sir Palamides came to the castle where Sir Tristram was, and of\n the quest that Sir Launcelot and ten knights made for Sir Tristram._\nAnd when he came to the land he took off his harness, and sat roaring\nand crying as a man out of his mind. Right so came a damsel even by Sir\nPalamides, that was sent from Sir Gawaine and his brother unto Sir\nMordred, that lay sick in the same place with that old knight where Sir\nTristram was. For, as the French book saith, Sir Persides hurt so Sir\nMordred a ten days afore; and had it not been for the love of Sir\nGawaine and his brother, Sir Persides had slain Sir Mordred. And so\nthis damsel came by Sir Palamides, and she and he had language\ntogether, the which pleased neither of them: and so the damsel rode her\nways till she came to the old knight\u2019s place, and there she told that\nold knight how she had met with the woodest knight by adventure that\never she met withal. What bare he in his shield? said Sir Tristram. It\nwas indented with white and black, said the damsel. Ah, said Sir\nTristram, that was Sir Palamides the good knight, for well I know him,\nsaid Sir Tristram, for one of the best knights living in this realm.\nThen that old knight took a little hackney, and rode for Sir Palamides,\nand brought him unto his own manor; and then full well knew Sir\nTristram Sir Palamides, but he said but little, for at that time Sir\nTristram was walking upon his feet, and well amended of his hurts, and\nalways when Sir Palamides saw Sir Tristram he would behold him full\nmarvellously. And ever him seemed that he had seen him. Then would he\nsay to Sir Dinadan, And ever I may meet with Sir Tristram, he shall not\nescape my hands. I marvel, said Sir Dinadan, that ye boast behind Sir\nTristram, for it is but late that he was in your hands, and ye in his\nhands; why would ye not hold him when ye had him? for I saw myself\ntwice or thrice that ye gat but little worship of Sir Tristram. Then\nwas Sir Palamides ashamed. So leave we them a little while in the\ncastle with the old knight Sir Darras.\nNow shall we speak of king Arthur, that said to Sir Launcelot, Had not\nye been, we had not lost Sir Tristram, for he was here daily unto the\ntime ye met with him, and in an evil time, said Arthur, ye encountered\nwith him. My lord Arthur, said Launcelot, ye put upon me that I should\nbe cause of his departure: truly it was against my will. But when men\nbe hot in deeds of arms, often they hurt their friends as well as their\nfoes; and my lord, said Sir Launcelot, ye shall understand that Sir\nTristram is a man that I am loth to offend, for he hath done for me\nmore than ever I did for him as yet. But then Sir Launcelot made to\nbring forth a book, and then Sir Launcelot said, Here we are ten\nknights that will swear upon a book never to rest one night where we\nrest another, this twelvemonth, until that we find Sir Tristram. And as\nfor me, said Sir Launcelot, I promise you upon this book that and I may\nmeet with him, either by fairness or foulness I shall bring him to this\ncourt, or else I shall die therefore. And the names of these ten\nknights that had undertaken this quest were these following. First was\nSir Launcelot; Sir Ector de Maris, Sir Bors de Ganis, and Bleoberis,\nand Sir Blamor de Ganis, and Lucan the butler, Sir Uwaine, Sir Galihud,\nSir Lionel, and Galiodin. So these ten noble knights departed from the\ncourt of king Arthur; and so they rode upon their quest together until\nthey came to a cross where departed four highways, and there departed\nthe fellowship in four, to seek Sir Tristram. And as Sir Launcelot rode\nby adventure he met with dame Bragwaine, that was sent into that\ncountry to seek Sir Tristram, and she fled as fast as her palfrey might\ngo. So Sir Launcelot met with her, and asked her why she fled. Ah, fair\nknight, said dame Bragwaine, I flee for dread of my life, for here\nfolloweth me Sir Breuse Sance Pit\u00e9 to slay me. Hold you nigh me, said\nSir Launcelot. Then when Sir Launcelot saw Sir Breuse Sance Pit\u00e9, Sir\nLauncelot cried unto him and said, False knight, destroyer of ladies\nand damsels, now thy last days be come. When Sir Breuse Sance Pit\u00e9 saw\nSir Launcelot\u2019s shield he knew it well, for at that time he bare not\nthe arms of Cornwall, but he bare his own shield. And then Sir Breuse\nfled, and Sir Launcelot followed after him. But Sir Breuse was so well\nhorsed, that when him list to flee he might well flee, and also abide\nwhen him list. And then Sir Launcelot returned unto dame Bragwaine, and\nshe thanked him of his great labour.\n_How Sir Tristram, Sir Palamides, and Sir Dinadan were taken and put in\n prison._\nNow will we speak of Sir Lucan the butler, that by fortune came riding\nto the same place there as was Sir Tristram, and in he came in none\nother intent but to ask harbour. Then the porter asked what was his\nname. Tell your lord that my name is Sir Lucan the butler, a knight of\nthe Round Table. So the porter went unto Sir Darras, lord of the place,\nand told him who was there to ask harbour. Nay, nay, said Sir Daname,\nthat was nephew unto Sir Darras, say him that he shall not be lodged\nhere. But let him wit that I Sir Daname will meet with him anon, and\nbid him make him ready. So Sir Daname came forth on horseback, and\nthere they met together with spears, and Sir Lucan smote down Sir\nDaname over his horse croup, and then he fled into that place, and Sir\nLucan rode after him, and asked after him many times. Then Sir Dinadan\nsaid to Sir Tristram, It is shame to see the lord\u2019s cousin of this\nplace defoiled. Abide, said Sir Tristram, and I shall redress it. And\nin the mean while Sir Dinadan was on horseback, and he justed with\nLucan the butler, and there Sir Lucan smote Dinadan through the thick\nof the thigh, and so he rode his way, and Sir Tristram was wroth that\nSir Dinadan was hurt, and followed after, and thought to avenge him.\nAnd within a mile he overtook Sir Lucan and bade him turn: and so they\nmet together, so that Sir Tristram hurt Sir Lucan passing sore, and\ngave him a fall. With that came Sir Uwaine, a gentle knight, and when\nhe saw Sir Lucan so hurt, he called Sir Tristram to just with him. Fair\nknight, said Sir Tristram, tell me your name I require you. Sir knight,\nwit ye well my name is Sir Uwaine le Fise de Roy Ureine. Ah, said Sir\nTristram, by my will I would not have ado with you at no time. Ye shall\nnot so, said Sir Uwaine, but ye shall have ado with me. And then Sir\nTristram saw none other boot, but rode against him, and overthrew Sir\nUwaine, and hurt him in the side, and so he departed unto his lodging\nagain. And when Sir Dinadan understood that Sir Tristram had hurt Sir\nLucan, he would have ridden after Sir Lucan to have slain him, but Sir\nTristram would not suffer him.\nThen Sir Uwaine let ordain an horse-litter, and brought Sir Lucan to\nthe abbey of Ganis, and the castle thereby hight the castle of Ganis,\nof the which Sir Bleoberis was lord. And at that castle Sir Launcelot\npromised all his fellows to meet in the quest of Sir Tristram. So when\nSir Tristram was come to his lodging, there came a damsel that told Sir\nDarras that three of his sons were slain at that tournament, and two\ngrievously wounded that they were never like to help themselves, and\nall this was done by a noble knight that bare the black shield, and\nthat was he that bare the prize. Then came there one and told Sir\nDarras that the same knight was within him that bare the black shield.\nThen Sir Darras went unto Sir Tristram\u2019s chamber, and there he found\nhis shield and shewed it to the damsel. Ah, sir, said the damsel, that\nsame is he that slew your three sons. Then without any tarrying Sir\nDarras put Sir Tristram, and Sir Palamides, and Sir Dinadan within a\nstrong prison, and there Sir Tristram was like to have died of great\nsickness, and every day Sir Palamides would reprove Sir Tristram of old\nhate betwixt them. And ever Sir Tristram spake fair and said little.\nBut when Sir Palamides saw the falling of sickness of Sir Tristram then\nwas he heavy for him, and comforted him in all the best wise he could.\nAnd, as the French book saith, there came forty knights to Sir Darras\nthat were of his own kin, and they would have slain Sir Tristram and\nhis two fellows, but Sir Darras would not suffer that, but kept them in\nprison, and meat and drink they had. So Sir Tristram endured there\ngreat pain, for sickness had undertaken him, and that is the greatest\npain a prisoner may have. For all the while a prisoner may have his\nhealth of body, he may endure under the mercy of God, and in hope of\ngood deliverance; but when sickness toucheth a prisoner\u2019s body, then\nmay a prisoner say all wealth is him bereft, and then he hath cause to\nwail and to weep. And so did Sir Tristram when sickness had undertaken\nhim, for then he took such sorrow that he had almost slain himself.\n_How king Mark was sorry for the good renown of Sir Tristram: some of\n king Arthur\u2019s knights justed with knights of Cornwall._\nNow will we speak, and leave Sir Tristram, Sir Palamides, and Sir\nDinadan in prison, and speak we of other knights that sought after Sir\nTristram many divers parts of this land. And some went into Cornwall,\nand by adventure Sir Gaheris, nephew unto king Arthur, came unto king\nMark, and there he was well received, and sat at king Mark\u2019s own table\nand eat of his own mess. Then king Mark asked Sir Gaheris what tidings\nthere were in the realm of Logris. Sir, said Sir Gaheris, the king\nreigneth as a noble knight, and now but late there was a great justs\nand tournament as ever I saw any in the realm of Logris, and the most\nnoble knights were at that justs. But there was one knight that did\nmarvellously three days, and he bare a black shield, and of all knights\nthat ever I saw he proved the best knight. Then said king Mark, That\nwas Sir Launcelot, or Sir Palamides the Paynim. Not so, said Sir\nGaheris, for both Sir Launcelot and Sir Palamides were on the contrary\npart against the knight with the black shield. Then it was Sir\nTristram, said the king. Yea, said Sir Gaheris. And therewith the king\nsmote down his head, and in his heart he feared sore that Sir Tristram\nshould get him such worship in the realm of Logris, where through that\nhe himself should not be able to withstand him. Thus Sir Gaheris had\ngreat cheer with king Mark, and with queen La Beale Isoud, the which\nwas glad of Sir Gaheris\u2019 words; for well she wist by his deeds and\nmanners that it was Sir Tristram. And then the king made a feast royal,\nand unto that feast came Sir Uwaine le Fise de Roy Ureine, and some\nfolk called him Uwaine le Blanche Mains. And this Sir Uwaine challenged\nall the knights of Cornwall. Then was the king wood wroth that he had\nno knights to answer him. Then Sir Andred, nephew unto king Mark, lept\nup and said, I will encounter with Sir Uwaine. Then he went and armed\nhim, and horsed him in the best manner. And there Sir Uwaine met with\nSir Andred and smote him down, that he swooned on the earth. Then was\nking Mark sorry and wroth out of measure that he had no knight to\nrevenge his nephew Sir Andred. So the king called unto him Sir Dinas\nthe seneschal, and prayed him for his sake to take upon him to just\nwith Sir Uwaine. Sir, said Sir Dinas, I am full loth to have ado with\nany knight of the Round Table. Yet, said the king, for my love take\nupon thee to just. So Sir Dinas made him ready, and anon they\nencountered together with great spears, but Sir Dinas was overthrown,\nhorse and man, a great fall. Who was wroth but king Mark? Alas, he\nsaid, have I no knight that will encounter with yonder knight. Sir,\nsaid Sir Gaheris, for your sake I will just. So Sir Gaheris made him\nready, and when he was armed he rode into the field. And when Sir\nUwaine saw Sir Gaheris\u2019 shield, he rode unto him and said, Sir, ye do\nnot your part; for, sir, the first time ye were made knight of the\nRound Table ye sware that ye should not have ado with your fellowship\nwittingly. And pardy Sir Gaheris, ye knew me well enough by my shield,\nand so do I know you by your shield, and though ye would break your\noath I would not break mine, for there is not one here, nor ye, that\nshall think I am afraid of you, but I durst right well have ado with\nyou, but we be sisters\u2019 sons. Then was Sir Gaheris ashamed. And so\ntherewithal every knight went his way, and Sir Uwaine rode into the\ncountry. Then king Mark armed him and took his horse and his spear,\nwith a squire with him. And then he rode afore Sir Uwaine, and suddenly\nat a gap he ran upon him as he that was not ware of him, and there he\nsmote him almost through the body, and there left him. So within a\nwhile there came Sir Kay, and found Sir Uwaine, and asked him how he\nwas hurt. I wot not, said Sir Uwaine, why, nor wherefore, but by\ntreason I am sure I gat this hurt, for here came a knight suddenly upon\nme or that I was ware, and suddenly hurt me. Then there was come Sir\nAndred to seek king Mark. Thou traitor knight, said Sir Kay, and I wist\nit were thou that thus traitourly hast hurt this noble knight, thou\nshouldst never pass my hands. Sir, said Sir Andred, I did never hurt\nhim, and that I will report me to himself. Fie on you, false knights,\nsaid Sir Kay, for ye of Cornwall are nought worth. So Sir Kay made\ncarry Sir Uwaine to the abbey of the black cross, and there he was\nhealed. And then Sir Gaheris took his leave of king Mark. But or he\ndeparted he said, Sir king, ye did a foul shame unto you and your court\nwhen ye banished Sir Tristram out of this country, for ye needed not to\nhave doubted no knight and he had been here. And so he departed.\n_Of the treason of king Mark, and how Sir Gaheris, smote him down and\n Andred his cousin._\nThen there came Sir Kay the seneschal unto king Mark, and there he had\ngood cheer shewing outward. Now fair lords, said he, will ye prove any\nadventures in the forest of Morris, in the which I know well is as hard\nan adventure as I know any. Sir, said Sir Kay, I will prove it. And Sir\nGaheris said he would be advised, for king Mark was ever full of\ntreason. And therewithal Sir Gaheris departed and rode his way. And by\nthe same way that Sir Kay should ride he laid him down to rest,\ncharging his squire to wait upon Sir Kay,\u2014and warn me when he cometh.\nSo within a while Sir Kay came riding that way. And then Sir Gaheris\ntook his horse and met him, and said, Sir Kay, ye are not wise to ride\nat the request of king Mark, for he dealeth all with treason. Then said\nSir Kay, I require you let us prove this adventure. I shall not fail\nyou, said Sir Gaheris. And so they rode that time till a lake that was\nthat time called the perilous lake, and there they abode under the\nshawe of the wood. The mean while king Mark within the castle of\nTintagil avoided all his barons, and all other save such as were privy\nwith him were all avoided out of his chamber. And then he let call his\nnephew Sir Andred, and bad arm him and horse him lightly, and by that\ntime it was midnight. And so king Mark was armed in black, horse and\nall. And so at a privy postern they two issued out with their varlets\nwith them, and rode till they came to that lake. Then Sir Kay espied\nthem first, and gat his spear, and proffered to just. And king Mark\nrode against him, and smote each other full hard, for the moon shone as\nthe bright day. And there at that justs Sir Kay\u2019s horse fell down, for\nhis horse was not so big as the king\u2019s horse was, and Sir Kay\u2019s horse\nbruised him full sore. Then Sir Gaheris was wroth that Sir Kay had a\nfall. Then he cried, Knight, sit thou fast in thy saddle, for I will\nrevenge my fellow. Then king Mark was afeard of Sir Gaheris, and so\nwith evil will king Mark rode against him: and Sir Gaheris gave him\nsuch a stroke that he fell down. So then forthwithal Sir Gaheris ran\nunto Sir Andred, and smote him from his horse quite that his helm smote\nin the earth and nigh had broken his neck. And therewith Sir Gaheris\nalight, and gat up Sir Kay. And then they went both on foot to them,\nand bad them yield them and tell their names, or else they should die.\nThen with great pain Sir Andred spake first and said, It is king Mark\nof Cornwall, therefore beware what ye do, and I am Sir Andred his\ncousin. Fie on you both, said Sir Gaheris, for a false traitor, and\nfalse treason hast thou wrought and he both, under the feigned cheer\nthat ye made us. It were pity, said Sir Gaheris, that thou shouldst\nlive any longer. Save my life, said king Mark, and I will make amends;\nand consider that I am a king anointed. It were the more shame, said\nSir Gaheris, to save thy life; thou art a king anointed with crism, and\ntherefore thou shouldest hold with all men of worship; and therefore\nthou art worthy to die. With that he lashed at king Mark without saying\nany more; and he covered him with his shield, and defended him as he\nmight. And then Sir Kay lashed at Sir Andred. And therewithal king Mark\nyielded him unto Sir Gaheris, and then he kneeled down, and made his\noath upon the cross of the sword that never while he lived he would be\nagainst errant knights. And also he sware to be good friend unto Sir\nTristram, if ever he came into Cornwall. By then Sir Andred was on the\nearth, and Sir Kay would have slain him. Let be, said Sir Gaheris, slay\nhim not I pray you. It were pity, said Sir Kay, that he should live any\nlonger, for this is nigh cousin unto Sir Tristram, and ever he hath\nbeen a traitor unto him, and by him he was exiled out of Cornwall, and\ntherefore I will slay him, said Sir Kay. Ye shall not, said Sir\nGaheris; sithen I have given the king his life, I pray you give him his\nlife. And therewithal Sir Kay let him go. And so Sir Kay and Sir\nGaheris rode forth their way unto Dinas the seneschal, for because they\nheard say that he loved well Sir Tristram. So they reposed them there.\nAnd soon after they rode unto the realm of Logris. And so within a\nlittle while they met with Sir Launcelot, that had always dame\nBragwaine with him, to that intent he wend to have met sooner with Sir\nTristram, and Sir Launcelot asked what tidings in Cornwall, and whether\nthey heard of Sir Tristram or not. Sir Kay and Sir Gaheris answered and\nsaid that they heard not of him. Then they told Sir Launcelot word by\nword of their adventure. Then Sir Launcelot smiled, and said, Hard it\nis to take out of the flesh that is bred in the bone. And so made them\nmerry together.\n_How after that Sir Tristram, Sir Palamides, and Sir Dinadan had been\n long in prison they were delivered._\nNow leave we off this tale and speak we of Sir Dinas that loved a lady\nwithin the castle, and she loved another knight better than him. And so\nwhen Sir Dinas went out on hunting she slipped down by a towel, and\ntook with her two brachets, and so she went to the knight that she\nloved. And when Sir Dinas came home and missed his lady, and his\nbrachets, then was he more wroth for his brachets than for the lady. So\nthen he rode after the knight that had his lady, and bad him turn and\njust. So Sir Dinas smote him down, that with the fall he brake his leg\nand his arm. And then his lady cried Sir Dinas mercy, and said she\nwould love him better than ever she did. Nay, said Sir Dinas, I shall\nnever trust them that once betrayed me, and therefore as ye have begun\nso end, for I will never meddle with you. And so Sir Dinas departed and\ntook his brachets with him, and so rode to his castle.\nNow will we turn unto Sir Launcelot, that was right heavy that he could\nnever hear no tidings of Sir Tristram, for all this while he was in\nprison with Sir Darras, Palamides, and Dinadan. Then dame Bragwaine\ntook her leave to go into Cornwall, and Sir Launcelot, Sir Kay, and Sir\nGaheris rode to seek Sir Tristram in the country of Surluse. Now\nspeaketh this tale of Sir Tristram and of his two fellows, for every\nday Sir Palamides brawled and said language against Sir Tristram. I\nmarvel, said Sir Dinadan, of thee Sir Palamides: and thou hadst Sir\nTristram here thou wouldst do him no harm; for and a wolf and a sheep\nwere together in prison, the wolf would suffer the sheep to be in\npeace. And wit thou well, said Sir Dinadan, this same is Sir Tristram\nat a word, and now mayest thou do thy best with him, and let see now\nhow ye can shift it with your hands. Then was Sir Palamides abashed and\nsaid little. Sir Palamides, said Sir Tristram, I have heard much of\nyour ill-will against me, but I will not meddle with you as at this\ntime by my will, because I dread the lord of this place that hath us in\ngovernance, for and I dread him more than I do thee, soon should it be\nshift. So they appeased themselves. Right so came in a damsel and said,\nKnights, be of good cheer, for ye are sure of your lives, and that I\nheard say my lord Sir Darras. Then were they glad all three, for daily\nthey wend they should have died. Then soon after this Sir Tristram fell\nsick, that he wend to have died. Then Sir Dinadan wept, and so did Sir\nPalamides under them both making great sorrow. So a damsel came into\nthem, and found them mourning. Then she went to Sir Darras and told him\nhow that mighty knight that bare the black shield was likely to die.\nThat shall not be, said Sir Darras, for God defend when any knights\ncome to me for succour that I should suffer them to die within my\nprison. Therefore, said Sir Darras to the damsel, fetch that knight and\nhis fellows afore me. And then anon when Sir Darras saw Sir Tristram\nafore him, he said, Sir knight, me repenteth of thy sickness, for thou\nart called a full noble knight, and so it seemeth by thee. And wit ye\nwell, it shall never be said that Sir Darras shall destroy such a noble\nknight as thou art in prison, howbeit that thou hast slain three of my\nsons, whereby I was greatly agrieved. But now shalt thou go and thy\nfellows, and your harness and horses have been fair and clean kept, and\nye shall go where it liketh you, upon this covenant, that thou, knight,\nwill promise me to be good friend to my sons two that be now on live,\nand also that thou tell me thy name. Sir, said he, as for me, my name\nis Sir Tristram de Liones, and in Cornwall was I born, and nephew I am\nunto king Mark. And as for the death of your sons, I might not do\nwithal, for and they had been the next kin that I have, I might have\ndone none otherwise. And if I had slain them by treason or treachery, I\nhad been worthy to have died. All this I consider, said Sir Darras,\nthat all that ye did was by force of knighthood, and that was the cause\nI would not put you to death. But since ye be Sir Tristram the good\nknight, I pray you heartily to be my good friend and to my sons. Sir,\nsaid Sir Tristram, I promise you by the faith of my body ever while I\nlive I will do you service, for ye have done to us but as a natural\nknight ought to do. Then Sir Tristram reposed him there till that he\nwas amended of his sickness. And when he was big and strong they took\ntheir leave, and every knight took their horses and so departed, and\nrode together till they came to a cross way. Now fellows, said Sir\nTristram, here will we depart in sundry ways. And because Sir Dinadan\nhad the first adventure, of him I will begin.\n_How Sir Dinadan rescued a lady from Sir Breuse Sance Pit\u00e9, and how Sir\n Tristram received a shield of Morgan le Fay._\nSo as Sir Dinadan rode by a well, he found a lady making great dole.\nWhat aileth you? said Sir Dinadan. Sir knight, said the lady, I am the\nwofullest lady of the world, for within these five days here came a\nknight called Sir Breuse Sance Pit\u00e9, and he slew mine own brother, and\never since he hath kept me at his own will, and of all men in the world\nI hate him most. And therefore I require you of knighthood to avenge\nme, for he will not tarry but be here anon. Let him come, said Sir\nDinadan, and because of honour of all women I will do my part. With\nthis came Sir Breuse, and when he saw a knight with his lady, he was\nwood wroth. And then he said, Sir knight, keep thee from me. So they\nhurled together as thunder, and either smote other passing sore. But\nSir Dinadan put him through the shoulder a grievous wound, and or ever\nSir Dinadan might turn him, Sir Breuse was gone and fled. Then the lady\nprayed him to bring her to a castle there beside but four mile thence.\nAnd so Sir Dinadan brought her there, and she was welcome, for the lord\nof that castle was her uncle. And so Sir Dinadan rode his way upon his\nadventure.\nNow turn we this tale unto Sir Tristram, that by adventure he came to a\ncastle to ask lodging, wherein was queen Morgan le Fay. And so when Sir\nTristram was let into that castle he had good cheer all that night. And\nupon the morn when he would have departed, the queen said, Wit ye well\nye shall not depart lightly, for ye are here as a prisoner. God defend,\nsaid Sir Tristram, for I was but late a prisoner. Fair knight, said the\nqueen, ye shall abide with me till that I wit what ye are, and from\nwhence ye come. And ever the queen would set Sir Tristram on her side,\nand her paramour on the other side, and ever queen Morgan would behold\nSir Tristram, and thereat the knight was jealous, and was in will\nsuddenly to have run upon Sir Tristram with a sword, but he left it for\nshame. Then the queen said to Sir Tristram, Tell me thy name, and I\nshall suffer you to depart when you will. Upon that covenant I tell you\nmy name is Sir Tristram de Liones. Ah, said Morgan le Fay, and I had\nwist that thou shouldst not have departed so soon as thou shalt: but\nsithen I have made a promise I will hold it, with that thou wilt\npromise me to bear upon thee a shield that I shall deliver thee, unto\nthe castle of the Hard Rock, where king Arthur hath cried a great\ntournament, and there I pray you that ye will be, and to do for me as\nmuch deeds of arms as ye may do. For at that Castle of Maidens, Sir\nTristram, ye did marvellous deeds of arms as ever I heard knight do.\nMadam, said Sir Tristram, let me see the shield that I shall bear. So\nthe shield was brought forth, and the shield was goldish, with a king\nand a queen therein painted, and a knight standing above them, with one\nfoot upon the king\u2019s head, and the other upon the queen\u2019s. Madam, said\nSir Tristram, this is a fair shield and a mighty; but what signifieth\nthis king and this queen and that knight standing upon both their\nheads. I shall tell you, said Morgan le Fay, it signifieth king Arthur\nand queen Guenever, and a knight that holdeth them both in bondage and\nservage. Who is that knight? said Sir Tristram. That shall ye not wit\nas at this time, said the queen. But, as the French book saith, queen\nMorgan loved Sir Launcelot best, and ever she desired him, and he would\nnever love her, nor do nothing at her request, and therefore she held\nmany knights together for to have taken him by strength. And because\nshe deemed that Sir Launcelot loved queen Guenever, and she him again,\ntherefore queen Morgan le Fay ordained that shield to put Sir Launcelot\nto a rebuke, to that intent that king Arthur might understand the love\nbetween them. Then Sir Tristram took that shield and promised her to\nbear it at the tournament at the castle of the Hard Rock. But Sir\nTristram knew not that shield was ordained against Sir Launcelot, but\nafterward he knew it.\n_How Sir Tristram took with him the shield, and also how he slew the\n paramour of Morgan le Fay._\nSo then Sir Tristram took his leave of the queen, and took the shield\nwith him. Then came the knight that held queen Morgan le Fay, his name\nwas Sir Hemison, and he made him ready to follow Sir Tristram. Fair\nfriend, said Morgan, ride not after that knight, for ye shall win no\nworship of him. Fie on him, coward, said Sir Hemison, for I wist never\ngood knight come out of Cornwall, but if it were Sir Tristram de\nLiones. What and that be he, said she. Nay, nay, said he, he is with La\nBeale Isoud, and this is but a daffish knight. Alas my fair friend, ye\nshall find him the best knight that ever ye met withal, for I know him\nbetter than ye do. For your sake, said Sir Hemison, I shall slay him.\nAh, fair friend, said the queen, me repenteth that ye will follow that\nknight, for I fear me sore of your again coming. With this, this knight\nrode his way wood wroth, and he rode after Sir Tristram as fast as he\nhad been chased with knights. When Sir Tristram heard a knight come\nafter him so fast, he returned about, and saw a knight coming against\nhim. And when he came nigh to Sir Tristram, he cried on high, Sir\nknight, keep thee from me. Then they rushed together as it had been\nthunder, and Sir Hemison bruised his spear upon Sir Tristram, but his\nharness was so good that he might not hurt him. And Sir Tristram smote\nhim harder, and bare him through the body, and he fell over his horse\ncroup. Then Sir Tristram turned to have done more with his sword, but\nhe saw so much blood go from him, that him seemed he was likely to die;\nand so he departed from him and came to a fair manor to an old knight,\nand there Sir Tristram lodged.\n_How Morgan le Fay buried her paramour, and how Sir Tristram praised\n Sir Launcelot and his kin._\nNow leave we to speak of Sir Tristram, and speak we of the knight that\nwas wounded to the death. Then his varlet alight, and took off his\nhelm; and then he asked his master whether there were any life in him.\nThere is in me life, said the knight, but it is but little, and\ntherefore leap thou up behind me, when thou hast holpen me up; and hold\nme fast that I fall not, and bring me to queen Morgan le Fay, for deep\ndraughts of death draw to my heart, that I may not live, for I would\nfain speak with her or I died. For else my soul will be in great peril\nand I die. And with great pain his varlet brought him to the castle,\nand there Sir Hemison fell down dead. When Morgan le Fay saw him dead,\nshe made great sorrow out of reason. And then she let despoil him unto\nhis shirt, and so she let him put into a tomb. And about the tomb she\nlet write: Here lieth Sir Hemison, slain by the hands of Sir Tristram\nde Liones. Now turn we unto Sir Tristram, that asked the knight, his\nhost, if he saw late any knights adventurous. Sir, he said, the last\nnight here lodged with me Sir Ector de Maris and a damsel with him, and\nthat damsel told me that he was one of the best knights of the world.\nThat is not so, said Sir Tristram, for I know four better knights of\nhis own blood; and the first is Sir Launcelot du Lake, call him the\nbest knight; and Sir Bors de Ganis, Sir Bleoberis, Sir Blamor de Ganis,\nand Sir Gaheris. Nay, said his host, Sir Gawaine is a better knight\nthan he. That is not so, said Sir Tristram, for I have met with them\nboth, and I felt Sir Gaheris for the better knight; and Sir Lamorak, I\ncall him as good as any of them, except Sir Launcelot. Why name ye not\nSir Tristram, said his host, for I account him as good as any of them.\nI know not Sir Tristram, said Tristram. Thus they talked and jested as\nlong as them list, and then went to rest. And on the morn Sir Tristram\ndeparted and took his leave of his host, and rode towards the\nRoche-dure, and none adventure had Sir Tristram but that, and so he\nrested not till he came to the castle, where he saw five hundred tents.\n_How Sir Tristram at a tournament bare the shield that Morgan le Fay\n had delivered him._\nThen the king of Scots and the king of Ireland held against king\nArthur\u2019s knights, and there began a great meddle. So came in Sir\nTristram and did marvellous deeds of arms, for there he smote down many\nknights. And ever he was afore king Arthur with that shield. And when\nking Arthur saw that shield, he marvelled greatly in what intent it was\nmade. But queen Guenever deemed as it was, wherefore she was heavy.\nThen was there a damsel of queen Morgan in a chamber by king Arthur,\nand when she heard king Arthur speak of that shield, then she spake\nopenly unto king Arthur, Sir king, wit ye well this shield was ordained\nfor you, to warn you of your shame and dishonour, and that longeth to\nyou and to your queen. And then anon the damsel piked her away privily,\nthat no man wist where she was become. Then was king Arthur sad and\nwroth, and asked from whence came that damsel. There was not one that\nknew her, nor wist where she was become. Then queen Guenever called to\nher Sir Ector de Maris, and there she made her complaint to him, and\nsaid, I wot well this shield was made by Morgan le Fay, in despite of\nme and Sir Launcelot, wherefore I dread sore lest I should be\ndestroyed. And ever the king beheld Sir Tristram that did so marvellous\ndeeds of arms, that he wondered sore what knight he might be, and well\nhe wist it was not Sir Launcelot. And it was told him that Sir Tristram\nwas in Petit Britain with Isoud la Blanche Mains, for he deemed, and he\nhad been in the realm of Logris, Sir Launcelot or some of his fellows\nthat were in the quest of Sir Tristram, that they should have found him\nor that time. So king Arthur had marvel what knight he might be. And\never Sir Arthur\u2019s eye was on that shield. All that espied the queen,\nand that made her sore afeard. Then ever Sir Tristram smote down\nknights, wonderly to behold, what upon the right hand and upon the left\nhand, that unneth no knight might withstand him. And the king of Scots\nand the king of Ireland began to withdraw them. When Arthur espied\nthat, he thought that that knight with the strange shield should not\nescape him. Then he called unto him Sir Uwaine la Blanche Mains, and\nbade him arm him and make him ready. So anon king Arthur and Sir Uwaine\ndressed them before Sir Tristram, and required him to tell them where\nhe had that shield. Sir, he said, I had it of queen Morgan le Fay,\nsister unto king Arthur.\nSoo here endeth this history of this book, for it is the firste book of\n sire Tristram de lyones, and the second book of sir tristram foloweth.\nHere begynneth the second book of sire Tristram. Howe syre Tristram\n smote doune kyng Arthur and sir Uwayne, by cause he wold not telle\n hem wherfor that shelde was made. But to say the sothe sire Tristram\n coude not telle the cause, for he knewe it not.\n_How Sir Tristram justed and smote down king Arthur, because he told\n him not the cause why he bare that shield._\nAnd if so be ye can describe what ye bear, ye are worthy to bear the\narms. As for that, said Sir Tristram, I will answer you. This shield\nwas given me, not desired, of queen Morgan le Fay. And as for me, I\ncannot describe these arms, for it is no point of my charge, and yet I\ntrust to bear them with worship. Truly, said king Arthur, ye ought to\nbear none arms but if ye wist what ye bear. But I pray you tell me your\nname. To what intent? said Sir Tristram. For I would wit, said king\nArthur. Sir, ye shall not wit as at this time. Then shall ye and I do\nbattle together, said king Arthur. Why, said Sir Tristram, will ye do\nbattle with me but if I tell you my name? and that little needeth you\nand ye were a man of worship, for ye have seen me this day have had\ngreat travail; and therefore ye are a villainous knight to ask battle\nof me, considering my great travail, howbeit I will not fail you, and\nhave ye no doubt that I fear not you; though ye think ye have me at a\ngreat advantage, yet shall I right well endure you. And therewithal\nking Arthur dressed his shield and his spear, and Sir Tristram against\nhim, and they came so eagerly together. And there king Arthur brake his\nspear all to pieces upon Sir Tristram\u2019s shield. But Sir Tristram hit\nking Arthur again, that horse and man fell to the earth. And there was\nking Arthur wounded on the left side a great wound and a perilous. Then\nwhen Sir Uwaine saw his lord Arthur lie on the ground sore wounded he\nwas passing heavy. And then he dressed his shield and spear, and cried\naloud unto Sir Tristram, and said, Knight, defend thee. So they came\ntogether as thunder, and Sir Uwaine brake his spear all to pieces upon\nSir Tristram\u2019s shield. And Sir Tristram smote him harder and sorer,\nwith such a might that he bare him clean out of his saddle to the\nearth. With that Sir Tristram turned about and said, Fair knights, I\nhad no need to just with you, for I have had enough to do this day.\nThen arose Arthur and went to Sir Uwaine, and said to Sir Tristram, We\nhave as we have deserved, for through our pride we demanded battle of\nyou, and yet we knew not your name. Nevertheless, said Sir Uwaine, by\nsaint cross he is a strong knight at mine advice as any is now living.\nThen Sir Tristram departed, and in every place he asked and demanded\nafter Sir Launcelot, but in no place he could not hear of him whether\nhe were dead or on live, wherefore Sir Tristram made great dole and\nsorrow. So Sir Tristram rode by a forest, and then was he ware of a\nfair tower by a marsh on that one side, and on that other side a fair\nmeadow. And there he saw ten knights fighting together. And ever the\nnearer he came he saw how there was but one knight did battle against\nnine knights, and that one knight did so marvellously that Sir Tristram\nhad great wonder that ever one knight might do so great deeds of arms.\nAnd then within a little while he had slain half their horses and\nunhorsed them, and their horses ran in the fields and forest. Then Sir\nTristram had so great pity upon that one knight that endured so great\npain, and ever he thought it should be Sir Palamides by his shield. And\nso he rode unto the knights and cried unto them, and bad them cease of\ntheir battle, for they did themselves great shame, so many knights to\nfight with one. Then answered the master of those knights, his name was\ncalled Breuse Sance Pit\u00e9, that was at that time the most mischievousest\nknight living, and said thus: Sir knight, what have ye ado with us to\nmeddle; and therefore and ye be wise depart on your way as ye came, for\nthis knight shall not escape us. That were pity, said Sir Tristram,\nthat so good a knight as he is should be slain so cowardly. And\ntherefore I warn you I will succour him with all my puissance.\n_How Sir Tristram saved Sir Palamides\u2019 life, and how they promised to\n fight together within a fortnight._\nSo Sir Tristram alight off his horse because they were on foot, that\nthey should not slay his horse, and then dressed his shield with his\nsword in his hand: and he smote on the right hand and on the left hand\npassing sore, that well nigh at every stroke he strake down a knight.\nAnd when they espied his strokes they fled all with Breuse Sance Pit\u00e9\nunto the tower; and Sir Tristram followed fast after with his sword in\nhis hand. But they escaped into the tower and shut Sir Tristram without\nthe gate. And when Sir Tristram saw this he returned back unto Sir\nPalamides, and found him sitting under a tree sore wounded. Ah, fair\nknight, said Sir Tristram, well be ye found. Gramercy, said Sir\nPalamides, of your great goodness, for ye have rescued me of my life,\nand saved me from my death. What is your name? said Sir Tristram. He\nsaid, my name is Sir Palamides. Oh, said Sir Tristram, thou hast a fair\ngrace of me this day that I should rescue thee, and thou art the man in\nthe world that I most hate. But now make thee ready, for I will do\nbattle with thee. What is your name? said Sir Palamides. My name is Sir\nTristram, your mortal enemy. It may be so, said Sir Palamides, but ye\nhave done overmuch for me this day that I should fight with you, for\ninasmuch as ye have saved my life, it will be no worship for you to\nhave ado with me, for ye are fresh, and I am wounded sore. And\ntherefore and ye will needs have ado with me, assign me a day, and then\nI shall meet with you without fail. Ye say well, said Sir Tristram.\nNow, I assign you to meet me in the meadow by the river of Camelot,\nwhere Merlin set the peron. So they were agreed. Then Sir Tristram\nasked Sir Palamides why the ten knights did battle with him. For this\ncause, said Sir Palamides, as I rode on mine adventures in a forest\nhere beside, I espied where lay a dead knight, and a lady weeping\nbeside him. And when I saw her making such dole, I asked her who slew\nher lord? Sir, she said, the falsest knight of the world now living:\nand he is the most villain that ever man heard speak of, and his name\nis Sir Breuse Sance Pit\u00e9. Then for pity I made the damsel to leap on\nher palfrey, and I promised her to be her warrant, and to help her to\ninter her lord. And so, suddenly, as I came riding by this tower, there\ncame out Sir Breuse Sance Pit\u00e9, and suddenly he strake me from my\nhorse. And then or I might recover my horse, this Sir Breuse slew the\ndamsel. And so I took my horse again, and I was sore ashamed, and so\nbegan the meddle betwixt us. And this is the cause wherefore we did\nthis battle. Well, said Sir Tristram, now I understand the manner of\nyour battle. But in any wise have remembrance of your promise that ye\nhave made with me to do battle with me this day fortnight. I shall not\nfail you, said Sir Palamides. Well, said Sir Tristram, as at this time\nI will not fail you till that ye be out of the danger of your enemies.\nSo they mounted upon their horses, and rode together unto that forest,\nand there they found a fair well, with clear water burbling. Fair sir,\nsaid Sir Tristram, to drink of that water have I courage. And then they\nalight off their horses. And then were they ware by them where stood a\ngreat horse tied to a tree, and ever he neighed. And then were they\nware of a fair knight armed under a tree, lacking no piece of harness,\nsave his helm lay under his head. Truly, said Sir Tristram, yonder\nlieth a wellfaring knight, what is best to do? Awake him, said Sir\nPalamides. So Sir Tristram wakened him with the butt of his spear. And\nso the knight arose up hastily, and put his helm upon his head, and gat\na great spear in his hand, and without any more words he hurled unto\nSir Tristram, and smote him clean from his saddle to the earth, and\nhurt him on the left side, that Sir Tristram lay in great peril. Then\nhe galloped farther, and fet his course, and came hurling upon Sir\nPalamides, and there he strake him a part through the body, that he\nfell from his horse to the earth. And then this strange knight left\nthem there, and took his way through the forest. With this Sir\nPalamides and Sir Tristram were on foot, and gat their horses again,\nand either asked counsel of other what was best to do. By my head, said\nSir Tristram, I will follow this strong knight that thus hath shamed\nus. Well, said Sir Palamides, and I will repose me hereby with a friend\nof mine. Beware, said Sir Tristram unto Palamides, that ye fail not\nthat day that ye have set with me to do battle, for, as I deem, ye will\nnot hold your day, for I am much bigger than ye. As for that, said Sir\nPalamides, be it as it be may, for I fear you not: for and I be not\nsick nor prisoner I will not fail you. But I have cause for to have\nmore doubt of you that ye will not meet with me, for ye ride after\nyonder strong knight, and if ye meet with him it is an hard adventure\nand ever ye escape his hands. Right so Sir Tristram and Sir Palamides\ndeparted, and either took their ways diverse.\n_How Sir Tristram sought a strong knight that had smitten him down, and\n many other knights of the Round Table._\nSo Sir Tristram rode long after this strong knight. And at the last he\nsaw where lay a lady overthwart a dead knight. Fair lady, said Sir\nTristram, who hath slain your lord? Sir, said she, there came a knight\nriding as my lord and I rested us here, and asked him of whence he was,\nand my lord said of Arthur\u2019s court. Therefore, said the strong knight,\nI will just with thee, for I hate all these that be of Arthur\u2019s court.\nAnd my lord that lieth here dead mounted upon his horse, and the strong\nknight and my lord encountered together, and there he smote my lord\nthrough out with his spear. And thus he hath brought me in great woe\nand damage. That me repenteth, said Sir Tristram, of your great anger;\nand it please you tell me your husband\u2019s name? Sir, said she, his name\nwas Galardoun, that would have proved a good knight. So departed Sir\nTristram from that dolorous lady, and had much evil lodging. Then on\nthe third day Sir Tristram met with Sir Gawaine and with Sir Bleoberis\nin a forest at a lodge: and either were sore wounded. Then Sir Tristram\nasked Sir Gawaine and Sir Bleoberis if they met with such a knight,\nwith such a cognisance, with a covered shield. Fair sir, said these\nknights, such a knight met with us to our great damage. And first he\nsmote down my fellow Sir Bleoberis, and sore wounded him because he bad\nme I should not have ado with him, for why, he was over strong for me.\nThat strong knight took his words at scorn, and said he said it for\nmockery. And then they rode together, and so he hurt my fellow. And\nwhen he had done so, I might not for shame but I must just with him.\nAnd at the first course, he smote me down and my horse to the earth.\nAnd there he had almost slain me, and from us he took his horse and\ndeparted, and in an evil time we met with him. Fair knights, said Sir\nTristram, so he met with me and with another knight that hight\nPalamides, and he smote us both down with one spear, and hurt us right\nsore. By my faith, said Sir Gawaine, by my counsel ye shall let him\npass and seek him no farther, for at the next feast of the Round Table\nupon pain of my head ye shall find him there. By my faith, said Sir\nTristram, I shall never rest till that I find him. And then Sir Gawaine\nasked him his name. Then he said, My name is Sir Tristram. And so\neither told other their names. And then departed Sir Tristram, and rode\nhis way. And by fortune in a meadow Sir Tristram met with Sir Kay the\nseneschal and Sir Dinadan. What tidings with you, said Sir\nTristram,\u2014with you knights? Not good, said these knights. Why so? said\nSir Tristram, I pray you tell me, for I ride to seek a knight. What\ncognisance beareth he? said Sir Kay. He beareth, said Sir Tristram, a\ncovered shield close with a cloth. By my head, said Sir Kay, that is\nthe same knight that met with us, for this night we were lodged within\na widow\u2019s house, and there was that knight lodged. And when he wist we\nwere of Arthur\u2019s court, he spake great villainy by the king, and\nspecially by the queen Guenever. And then on the morrow we waged battle\nwith him for that cause. And at the first recounter, said Sir Kay, he\nsmote me down from my horse, and hurt me passing sore. And when my\nfellow Sir Dinadan saw me smitten down and hurt, he would not revenge\nme, but fled from me. And thus is he departed. And then Sir Tristram\nrequired them to tell him their names, and so either told other their\nnames. And so Sir Tristram departed from Sir Kay and from Sir Dinadan,\nand so he passed through a great forest into a plain, till he was ware\nof a priory, and there he reposed him with a good man six days.\n_How Sir Tristram smote down Sir Sagramor le Desirous, and Sir Dodinas\n le Savage._\nAnd then he sent his man that hight Gouvernail, and commanded him to go\nto a city there by to fetch him new harness; for it was long time afore\nthat that Sir Tristram had been refreshed; his harness was bruised and\nbroken. And when Gouvernail his servant was come with his apparel, he\ntook his leave at the widow, and mounted upon his horse, and rode his\nway early on the morn. And, by sudden adventure Sir Tristram met with\nSir Sagramor le Desirous, and with Sir Dodinas le Savage. And these two\nknights met with Sir Tristram and questioned with him, and asked him if\nhe would just with them. Fair knights, said Sir Tristram, with a good\nwill I would just with you, but I have promised at a day set near hand\nto do battle with a strong knight. And therefore I am loth to have ado\nwith you, for and it misfortuned me here to be hurt, I should not be\nable to do my battle which I promised. As for that, said Sir Sagramor,\nmaugre your head ye shall just with us or ye pass from us. Well, said\nSir Tristram, if ye enforce me thereto, I must do what I may. And then\nthey dressed their shields, and came running together with great ire.\nBut through Sir Tristram\u2019s great force, he strake Sir Sagramor from his\nhorse. Then he hurled his horse farther, and said to Sir Dodinas,\nKnight, make thee ready. And so through fine force Sir Tristram strake\nDodinas from his horse. And when he saw them lie on the earth he took\nhis bridle, and rode forth on his way, and his man Gouvernail with him.\nAnon as Sir Tristram was past, Sir Sagramor and Sir Dodinas gat again\ntheir horses, and mounted up lightly, and followed after Sir Tristram.\nAnd when Sir Tristram saw them come so fast after him, he returned with\nhis horse to them, and asked them what they would. It is not long ago\nsince I smote you down to the earth at your own request and desire: I\nwould have ridden by you but ye would not suffer me, and now me seemeth\nye would do more battle with me. That is truth, said Sir Sagramor and\nSir Dodinas, for we will be revenged of the despite that ye have done\nto us. Fair knights, said Sir Tristram, that shall little need you, for\nall that I did to you ye caused it, wherefore I require you of your\nknighthood leave me as at this time, for I am sure and I do battle with\nyou I shall not escape without great hurts, and as I suppose ye shall\nnot escape all lotless. And this is the cause why I am so loth to have\nado with you. For I must fight within these three days with a good\nknight and as valiant as any is now living, and if I be hurt I shall\nnot be able to do battle with him. What knight is that, said Sir\nSagramor, that ye shall fight withal? Sir, said he, it is a good knight\ncalled Sir Palamides. By my head, said Sir Sagramor and Sir Dodinas, ye\nhave cause to dread him, for ye shall find him a passing good knight\nand a valiant. And because ye shall have ado with him we will forbear\nyou as at this time, and else ye should not escape us lightly. But fair\nknight, said Sir Sagramor, tell us your name. Sir, said he, my name is\nSir Tristram de Liones. Ah, said Sagramor and Sir Dodinas, well be ye\nfound, for much worship have we heard of you. And then either took\nleave of other, and departed on their way.\n_How Sir Tristram met at the peron with Sir Launcelot, and how they\n fought together unknown._\nThen departed Sir Tristram and rode straight unto Camelot, to the peron\nthat Merlin had made tofore, where Sir Lanceor, that was the king\u2019s son\nof Ireland, was slain by the hands of Balin. And in that same place was\nthe fair lady Columbe slain, that was love unto Sir Lanceor, for after\nhe was dead she took his sword and thrust it through her body. And by\nthe craft of Merlin he made to inter this knight Sir Lanceor and his\nlady Columbe under one stone. And at that time Merlin prophesied that\nin that same place should fight two the best knights that ever were in\nArthur\u2019s days, and the best lovers. So when Sir Tristram came to the\ntomb where Lanceor and his lady were buried, he looked about him after\nSir Palamides. Then was he ware of a seemly knight came riding against\nhim all in white, with a covered shield. When he came nigh Sir\nTristram, he said on high, Ye be welcome, Sir knight, and well and\ntruly have ye holden your promise. And then they dressed their shields\nand spears, and came together with all their mights of their horses.\nAnd they met so fiercely that both their horses and knights fell to the\nearth. And as fast as they might they avoided their horses, and put\ntheir shields before them, and they strake together with bright swords,\nas men that were of might, and either wounded other wonderly sore, that\nthe blood ran out upon the grass. And thus they two fought the space of\nfour hours, that never one would speak to other one word, and of their\nharness they had hewn off many pieces. Oh, said Gouvernail, I have\nmarvel greatly of the strokes my master hath given to your master. By\nmy head, said Sir Launcelot\u2019s servant, your master hath not given so\nmany but your master hath received as many or more. Oh, said\nGouvernail, it is too much for Sir Palamides to suffer, or Sir\nLauncelot, and yet pity it were that either of these good knights\nshould destroy other\u2019s blood. So they stood and wept both, and made\ngreat dole when they saw the bright swords over covered with blood of\ntheir bodies. Then at the last spake Sir Launcelot and said: Knight,\nthou fightest wonderly well as ever I saw knight, therefore and it\nplease you tell me your name. Sir, said Sir Tristram, that is me loth\nto tell any man my name. Truly, said Sir Launcelot, and I were\nrequired, I was never loth to tell my name. It is well said, quoth Sir\nTristram, then I require you to tell me your name. Fair knight, he\nsaid, my name is Sir Launcelot du Lake. Alas, said Sir Tristram, what\nhave I done, for ye are the man in the world that I love best. Fair\nknight, said Sir Launcelot, tell me your name. Truly, said he, my name\nis Sir Tristram de Liones. Oh, said Sir Launcelot, what adventure is\nbefallen me! And therewith Sir Launcelot kneeled down and yielded him\nup his sword. And therewithal Sir Tristram kneeled adown, and yielded\nhim up his sword. And so either gave other the degree. And then they\nboth forthwithal went to the stone, and set them down upon it, and took\noff their helms to cool them, and either kissed other an hundred times.\nAnd then anon after they took their helms and rode to Camelot. And\nthere they met with Sir Gawaine and with Sir Gaheris that had made\npromise to Arthur never to come again to the court till they had\nbrought Sir Tristram with them.\n_How Sir Launcelot brought Sir Tristram to the court, and of the great\n joy that the king and other made for the coming of Sir Tristram._\nReturn again, said Sir Launcelot, for your quest is done, for I have\nmet with Sir Tristram: lo here is his own person. Then was Sir Gawaine\nglad, and said to Sir Tristram, Ye are welcome, for now have ye eased\nme greatly of my labour. For what cause, said Sir Gawaine, came ye into\nthis court? Fair sir, said Sir Tristram, I came into this country\nbecause of Sir Palamides, for he and I had assigned at this day to have\ndone battle together at the peron, and I marvel I hear not of him. And\nthus by adventure my lord Sir Launcelot and I met together. With this\ncame king Arthur. And when he wist that there was Sir Tristram, then he\nran unto him and took him by the hand and said, Sir Tristram, ye be as\nwelcome as any knight that ever came to this court. And when the king\nhad heard how Sir Launcelot and he had foughten, and either had wounded\nother wonderly sore, then the king made great dole. Then Sir Tristram\ntold the king how he came thither for to have had ado with Sir\nPalamides. And then he told the king how he had rescued him from the\nnine knights and Breuse Sance Pit\u00e9, and how he found a knight lying by\na well, and that knight smote down Sir Palamides and me, but his shield\nwas covered with a cloth. So Sir Palamides left me, and I followed\nafter that knight. And in many places I found where he had slain\nknights, and forjusted many. By my head, said Sir Gawaine, that same\nknight smote me down and Sir Bleoberis, and hurt us sore both, he with\nthe covered shield. Ah, said Sir Kay, that knight smote me adown and\nhurt me passing sore, and fain would I have known him, but I might not.\nMercy, said Arthur, what knight was that with the covered shield? I\nknow not, said Sir Tristram; and so said they all. Now, said king\nArthur, then wot I, for it is Sir Launcelot. Then they all looked upon\nSir Launcelot and said, Ye have beguiled us with your covered shield.\nIt is not the first time, said Arthur, he hath done so. My lord, said\nSir Launcelot, truly wit ye well I was the same knight that bare the\ncovered shield. And because I would not be known that I was of your\ncourt I said no worship of your house. That is truth, said Sir Gawaine,\nSir Kay, and Sir Bleoberis. Then king Arthur took Sir Tristram by the\nhand, and went to the Table Round. Then came queen Guenever and many\nladies with her, and all the ladies said at one voice, Welcome, Sir\nTristram. Welcome, said the damsels: Welcome, said the knights:\nWelcome, said Arthur, for one of the best knights and the gentlest of\nthe world, and the man of most worship. For of all manner of hunting\nthou bearest the prize, and of all measures of blowing thou art the\nbeginning, and of all the terms of hunting and hawking ye are the\nbeginner: of all instruments of music ye are the best; therefore,\ngentle knight, said Arthur, ye are welcome to this court. And also I\npray you, said Arthur, grant me a boon. It shall be at your\ncommandment, said Tristram. Well, said Arthur, I will desire of you\nthat ye will abide in my court. Sir, said Sir Tristram, thereto is me\nloth, for I have ado in many countries. Not so, said Arthur, ye have\npromised it me, ye may not say nay. Sir, said Sir Tristram, I will as\nye will. Then went Arthur unto the sieges about the Round Table, and\nlooked in every siege the which were void that lacked knights. And then\nthe king saw in the siege of Marhaus letters that said, This is the\nsiege of the noble knight Sir Tristram. And then Arthur made Sir\nTristram knight of the Table Round with great nobley and great feast as\nmight be thought. For Sir Marhaus was slain afore by the hands of Sir\nTristram in an island, and that was well known at that time in the\ncourt of Arthur; for this Marhaus was a worthy knight. And for evil\ndeeds that he did unto the country of Cornwall Sir Tristram and he\nfought. And they fought so long tracing and traversing till they fell\nbleeding to the earth, for they were so sore wounded that they might\nnot stand for bleeding. And Sir Tristram by fortune recovered, and Sir\nMarhaus died through the stroke on the head. So leave we of Sir\nTristram, and speak we of king Mark.\n_How for the despite of Sir Tristram king Mark came with two knights\n into England, and how he slew one of the knights._\nThen king Mark had great despite of the renown of Sir Tristram, and\nthen he chased him out of Cornwall: yet was he nephew unto king Mark,\nbut he had great suspicion unto Sir Tristram, because of his queen, La\nBeale Isoud: for him seemed that there was too much love between them\nboth. So when Sir Tristram departed out of Cornwall into England, king\nMark heard of the great prowess that Sir Tristram did there, the which\ngrieved him sore. So he sent on his party men to espy what deeds he\ndid. And the queen sent privily on her part spies to know what deeds he\nhad done, for great love was between them twain. So when the messagers\nwere come home, they told the truth as they had heard, that he passed\nall other knights, but if it were Sir Launcelot. Then king Mark was\nright heavy of these tidings, and as glad was La Beale Isoud. Then in\ngreat despite he took with him two good knights and two squires, and\ndisguised himself, and took his way into England, to the intent for to\nslay Sir Tristram. And one of these two knights hight Sir Bersules, and\nthe other knight was called Sir Amant. So as they rode, king Mark asked\na knight that he met where he should find king Arthur. He said, at\nCamelot. Also he asked that knight after Sir Tristram, whether he heard\nof him in the court of king Arthur. Wit you well, said that knight, ye\nshall find Sir Tristram there for a man of as great worship as is now\nliving, for through his prowess he won the tournament of the Castle of\nMaidens, that standeth by the Hard Rock. And sithen he hath won with\nhis own hands thirty knights that were men of great honour. And the\nlast battle that ever he did he fought with Sir Launcelot, and that was\na marvellous battle. And not by force Sir Launcelot brought Sir\nTristram to the court, and of him king Arthur made passing great joy,\nand so made him knight of the Table Round, and his seat was where the\ngood knight\u2019s Sir Marhaus seat was. Then was king Mark passing sorry\nwhen he heard of the honour of Sir Tristram, and so they departed. Then\nsaid king Mark unto his two knights, Now will I tell you my counsel; ye\nare the men that I trust most to on live; and I will that ye wit my\ncoming hither is to this intent, for to destroy Sir Tristram by wiles\nor by treason; and it shall be hard if ever he escape our hands. Alas,\nsaid Bersules, what mean you? for ye be set in such a way ye are\ndisposed shamefully. For Sir Tristram is the knight of most worship\nthat we know living, and therefore I warn you plainly I will never\nconsent to do him to the death; and therefore I will yield my service,\nand forsake you. When king Mark heard him say so, suddenly he drew his\nsword, and said, A traitor! and smote Sir Bersules on the head, that\nthe sword went to his teeth. When Amant the knight saw him do that\nvillainous deed, and his squires, they said it was foul done and\nmischievously, wherefore we will do thee no more service; and wit ye\nwell we will appeach thee of treason afore Arthur. Then was king Mark\nwonderly wroth, and would have slain Amant; but he and the two squires\nheld them together, and set nought by his malice. When king Mark saw he\nmight not be revenged on them, he said thus unto the knight Amant, Wit\nthou well, and thou appeach me of treason I shall thereof defend me\nafore king Arthur; but I require thee that thou tell not my name that I\nam king Mark, whatsoever come of me. As for that, said Sir Amant, I\nwill not discover your name. And so they parted; and Amant and his\nfellows took the body of Bersules and buried it.\n_How king Mark came to a fountain where he found Sir Lamorak\n complaining for the love of king Lot\u2019s wife._\nThen king Mark rode till he came to a fountain, and there he rested\nhim, and stood in a doubt whether he would ride to Arthur\u2019s court or\nnone, or return again to his country. And as he thus rested him by that\nfountain, there came by him a knight well armed on horseback, and he\nalight and tied his horse unto a tree, and set him down by the brink of\nthe fountain, and there he made great languor and dole, and made the\ndolefullest complaint of love that ever man heard; and all this while\nwas he not ware of king Mark. And this was a great part of his\ncomplaint, he cried and wept, saying, O fair queen of Orkney, king\nLot\u2019s wife, and mother of Sir Gawaine, and to Sir Gaheris, and mother\nto many other, for thy love I am in great pains. Then king Mark arose,\nand went near him, and said, Fair knight, ye have made a piteous\ncomplaint. Truly, said the knight, it is an hundred part more rueful\nthan my heart can utter. I require you, said king Mark, tell me your\nname. Sir, said he, as for my name, I will not hide it from no knight\nthat beareth a shield, and my name is Sir Lamorak de Galis. But when\nSir Lamorak heard king Mark speak, then wist he well by his speech that\nhe was a Cornish knight. Sir, said Sir Lamorak, I understand by your\ntongue ye be of Cornwall, wherein there dwelleth the shamefullest king\nthat is now living, for he is a great enemy to all good knights; and\nthat proveth well, for he hath chased out of that country Sir Tristram,\nthat is the worshipfullest knight that now is living, and all knights\nspeak of him worship, and for jealousy of his queen he hath chased him\nout of his country. It is pity, said Sir Lamorak, that ever any such\nfalse knight-coward as king Mark is should be matched with such a fair\nlady and good as La Beale Isoud is, for all the world of him speaketh\nshame, and of her worship that any queen may have. I have not ado in\nthis matter, said king Mark, neither nought will I speak thereof. Well\nsaid, said Sir Lamorak. Sir, can ye tell me any tidings? I can tell\nyou, said Sir Lamorak, that there shall be a great tournament in haste\nbeside Camelot, at the castle of Jagent. And the king with the hundred\nknights, and the king of Ireland, as I suppose, make that tournament.\nThen there came a knight, that was called Sir Dinadan, and saluted them\nboth. And when he wist that king Mark was a knight of Cornwall, he\nreproved him for the love of king Mark a thousand fold more than did\nSir Lamorak. Then he proffered to just with king Mark. And he was full\nloth thereto; but Sir Dinadan edged him so, that he justed with Sir\nLamorak. And Sir Lamorak smote king Mark so sore that he bare him on\nhis spear end over his horse tail. And then king Mark arose again, and\nfollowed after Sir Lamorak. But Sir Dinadan would not just with Sir\nLamorak, but he told king Mark that Sir Lamorak was Sir Kay the\nseneschal. That is not so, said king Mark, for he is much bigger than\nSir Kay. And so he followed and overtook him, and bad him abide. What\nwill ye do? said Sir Lamorak. Sir, he said, I will fight with a sword,\nfor ye have shamed me with a spear. And therewith they dashed together\nwith swords, and Sir Lamorak suffered him and forbare him. And king\nMark was passing hasty, and smote thick strokes. Sir Lamorak saw he\nwould not stint, and waxed somewhat wroth, and doubled his strokes, for\nhe was one of the noblest knights of the world, and he beat him so on\nthe helm that his head hung nigh on the saddle bow. When Sir Lamorak\nsaw him fare so, he said, Sir knight, what cheer? me seemeth ye have\nnigh your fill of fighting; it were pity to do you any more harm for ye\nare but a mean knight, therefore I give you leave to go where ye list.\nGramercy, said king Mark, for ye and I be not matches. Then Sir Dinadan\nmocked king Mark and said, Ye are not able to match a good knight. As\nfor that, said king Mark, at the first time that I justed with this\nknight ye refused him. Think ye that it is a shame to me? said Sir\nDinadan: nay, sir, it is ever worship to a knight to refuse that thing\nthat he may not attain: therefore your worship had been much more, to\nhave refused him as I did: for I warn you plainly he is able to beat\nfive such as ye and I be; for ye knights of Cornwall are no men of\nworship, as other knights are. And because ye are no men of worship, ye\nhate all men of worship; for never was bred in your country such a\nknight as Sir Tristram.\n_How king Mark, Sir Lamorak, and Sir Dinadan came to a castle, and how\n king Mark was known there._\nThen they rode forth all together, king Mark, Sir Lamorak, and Sir\nDinadan, till that they came unto a bridge. And at the end thereof\nstood a fair tower. Then saw they a knight on horseback, well armed,\nbrandishing a spear, crying and proffering himself to just. Now, said\nSir Dinadan unto king Mark, yonder are two brethren, that one hight\nAllein, and that other hight Trian, that will just with any that\npasseth this passage. Now proffer yourself, said Dinadan to king Mark,\nfor ever ye be laid to the earth. Then king Mark was ashamed, and\ntherewith he feutred his spear, and hurtled to Sir Trian, and either\nbrake their spears all to pieces, and passed through anon. Then Sir\nTrian sent king Mark another spear to just more; but in no wise he\nwould not just no more. Then they came to the castle, all three\nknights, and they prayed the lord of the castle for harbour. Ye are\nright welcome, said the knights of the castle, for the love of the lord\nof this castle, the which hight Sir Tor le Fise Aries. And then they\ncame into a fair court, well repaired. And they had passing good cheer\ntill the lieutenant of this castle that hight Berluse espied king Mark\nof Cornwall. Then said Berluse, Sir knight, I know you better than ye\nween, for ye are king Mark, that slew my father afore mine own eyes,\nand me had ye slain had I not escaped into a wood; but wit ye well for\nthe love of my lord of this castle, I will neither hurt you ne harm\nyou, nor none of your fellowship. But wit ye well when ye are past this\nlodging I shall hurt you and I may, for ye slew my father traitourly.\nBut first for the love of my lord Sir Tor, and for the love of Sir\nLamorak the honourable knight that here is lodged, ye shall have none\nill lodging. For it is pity that ever ye should be in the company of\ngood knights, for ye are the most villainous knight or king that is now\nknown on live; for ye are a destroyer of good knights, and all that ye\ndo is but treason.\n_How Sir Berluse met with king Mark, and how Sir Dinadan took his part._\nThen was king Mark sore ashamed, and said but little again. But when\nSir Lamorak and Sir Dinadan wist that he was king Mark they were sorry\nof his fellowship. So after supper they went to lodging. So on the morn\nthey arose early, and king Mark and Sir Dinadan rode together; and\nthree mile from their lodging there met with them three knights, and\nSir Berluse was one, and the other his two cousins. Sir Berluse saw\nking Mark, and then he cried on high, Traitor, keep thee from me, for\nwit thou well that I am Berluse. Sir knight, said Sir Dinadan, I\ncounsel you to leave off at this time, for he is riding to king Arthur;\nand because I have promised to conduct him to my lord king Arthur,\nneeds must I take a part with him, howbeit I love not his condition,\nand fain I would be from him. Well Dinadan, said Sir Berluse, me\nrepenteth that ye will take part with him, but now do your best. And\nthen he hurtled to king Mark, and smote him sore upon the shield that\nhe bare him clean out of his saddle to the earth. That saw Sir Dinadan,\nand he feutred his spear, and ran to one of Berluse\u2019s fellows, and\nsmote him down off his saddle. Then Dinadan turned his horse, and smote\nthe third knight in the same wise to the earth, for Sir Dinadan was a\ngood knight on horseback. And there began a great battle, for Berluse\nand his fellows held them together strongly on foot. And so through the\ngreat force of Sir Dinadan, king Mark had Sir Berluse to the earth, and\nhis two fellows fled; and had not been Sir Dinadan, king Mark would\nhave slain him; and so Sir Dinadan rescued him of his life, for king\nMark was but a murderer. And then they took their horses and departed,\nand left Sir Berluse there sore wounded. Then king Mark and Sir Dinadan\nrode forth a four leagues English till that they came to a bridge,\nwhere hoved a knight on horseback, armed and ready to just. Lo, said\nSir Dinadan unto king Mark, yonder hoveth a knight that will just, for\nthere shall none pass this bridge but he must just with that knight. It\nis well, said king Mark, for this justs falleth with thee. Sir Dinadan\nknew the knight well that he was a noble knight, and fain he would have\njusted, but he had lever king Mark had justed with him, but by no mean\nking Mark would not just. Then Sir Dinadan might not refuse him in no\nmanner. And then either dressed their spears and their shields and\nsmote together, so that through fine force Sir Dinadan was smitten to\nthe earth. And lightly he arose up, and gat his horse, and required\nthat knight to do battle with swords. And he answered and said, Fair\nknight, as at this time I may not have ado with you no more; for the\ncustom of this passage is such. Then was Sir Dinadan passing wroth,\nthat he might not be revenged of that knight; and so he departed. And\nin no wise would that knight tell his name; but ever Sir Dinadan\nthought that he should know him by his shield that it should be Sir Tor.\n_How king Mark mocked Sir Dinadan, and how they met with six knights of\n the Round Table._\nSo as they rode by the way, king Mark then began to mock Sir Dinadan,\nand said, I wend you knights of the Table Round might in no wise find\ntheir matches. Ye say well, said Sir Dinadan, as for you, on my life I\ncall you none of the best knights; but sith ye have such a despite at\nme, I require you to just with me, to prove my strength. Not so, said\nking Mark, for I will not have ado with you in no manner. But I require\nyou of one thing, that when ye come to Arthur\u2019s court, discover not my\nname, for I am there so hated. It is shame to you, said Sir Dinadan,\nthat ye govern yourself so shamefully; for I see by you ye are full of\ncowardice, and ye are a murderer, and that is the greatest shame that a\nknight may have, for never a knight being a murderer hath worship, nor\nnever shall have. For I saw but late through my force ye would have\nslain Sir Berluse, a better knight than ye, or ever ye shall be, and\nmore of prowess.\nThus they rode forth talking, till they came to a fair place where\nstood a knight, and prayed them to take their lodging with him. So at\nthe request of that knight they reposed them there, and made them well\nat ease, and had great cheer. For all errant knights were welcome to\nhim, and especially all those of Arthur\u2019s court. Then Sir Dinadan\ndemanded his host, what was the knight\u2019s name that kept the bridge. For\nwhat cause ask you it? said his host. For it is not long ago, said Sir\nDinadan, since he gave me a fall. Ah, fair knight, said his host,\nthereof have ye no marvel, for he is a passing good knight, and his\nname is Sir Tor, the son of Aries le Vaysher. Ah, said Sir Dinadan, was\nthat Sir Tor, for truly so ever me thought. Right as they stood thus\ntalking together, they saw come riding to them over a plain six knights\nof the court of king Arthur, well armed at all points. And there by\ntheir shields Sir Dinadan knew them well. The first was the good knight\nSir Uwaine, the son of king Uriens; the second was the noble knight Sir\nBrandiles; the third was Ozana le Cure Hardy; the fourth was Uwaine les\nAdventurous; the fifth was Sir Agravaine; the sixth Sir Mordred,\nbrother to Sir Gawaine. When Sir Dinadan had seen these six knights, he\nthought in himself he would bring king Mark by some wile to just with\none of them. And anon they took their horses and ran after these\nknights well a three mile English. Then was king Mark ware where they\nsat all six about a well, and eat and drank such meats as they had, and\ntheir horses walking and some tied, and their shields hung in divers\nplaces about them. Lo, said Sir Dinadan, yonder are knights errant that\nwill just with us. God forbid, said king Mark, for they be six, and we\nbut two. As for that, said Sir Dinadan, let us not spare, for I will\nassay the foremost. And therewith he made him ready. When king Mark saw\nhim do so, as fast as Sir Dinadan rode toward them king Mark rode\nfroward them with all his menial company. So when Sir Dinadan saw king\nMark was gone, he set the spear out of the rest, and threw his shield\nupon his back, and came riding to the fellowship of the Table Round.\nAnd anon Sir Uwaine knew Sir Dinadan, and welcomed him, and so did all\nhis fellowship.\n_How the six knights sent Sir Dagonet to just with king Mark, and how\n king Mark refused him._\nAnd then they asked him of his adventures, and whether he had seen Sir\nTristram, or Sir Launcelot. Truly, said Sir Dinadan, I saw none of them\nsince I departed from Camelot. What knight is that, said Sir Brandiles,\nthat so suddenly departed from you, and rode over yonder field? Sir,\nsaid he, it was a knight of Cornwall, and the most horrible coward that\never bestrode horse. What is his name? said all the knights. I wot not,\nsaid Sir Dinadan. So when they had reposed them, and spoken together,\nthey took their horses and rode to a castle where dwelled an old knight\nthat made all knights errant good cheer. Then in the mean while that\nthey were talking came into the castle Sir Griflet le Fise de Dieu, and\nthere was he welcome, and they asked him whether he had seen Sir\nLauncelot or Sir Tristram? Sirs, he answered, I saw him not since he\ndeparted from Camelot. So as Sir Dinadan walked and beheld the castle,\nthereby in a chamber he espied king Mark, and then he rebuked him, and\nasked him why he departed so? Sir, said he, for I durst not abide\nbecause they were so many. But how escaped ye? said king Mark. Sir,\nsaid Sir Dinadan, they were better friends than I wend they had been.\nWho is captain of that fellowship? said the king. Then for to fear him\nSir Dinadan said it was Sir Launcelot. Oh, said the king, might I know\nSir Launcelot by his shield? Yea, said Dinadan, for he beareth a shield\nof silver and black bends. All this he said to fear the king, for Sir\nLauncelot was not in his fellowship. Now I pray you, said king Mark,\nthat ye will ride in my fellowship? That is me loth to do, said Sir\nDinadan, because ye forsook my fellowship. Right so Sir Dinadan went\nfrom king Mark and went to his own fellowship. And so they mounted upon\ntheir horses, and rode on their ways, and talked of the Cornish knight,\nfor Dinadan told them that he was in the castle where they were lodged.\nIt is well said, said Sir Griflet, for here have I brought Sir Dagonet\nking Arthur\u2019s fool, that is the best fellow and the merriest in the\nworld. Will ye do well? said Sir Dinadan; I have told the Cornish\nknight that here is Sir Launcelot, and the Cornish knight asked me what\nshield he bare. Truly I told him that he bare the same shield that Sir\nMordred beareth. Will ye do well? said Sir Mordred; I am hurt and may\nnot well bear my shield nor harness, and therefore put my shield and my\nharness upon Sir Dagonet, and let him set upon the Cornish knight. That\nshall be done, said Sir Dagonet, by my faith. Then anon was Dagonet\narmed in Mordred\u2019s harness and his shield, and he was set on a great\nhorse and a spear in his hand. Now, said Dagonet, shew me the knight,\nand I trow I shall bear him down. So all these knights rode to a wood\nside, and abode till king Mark came by the way. Then they put forth Sir\nDagonet, and he came on all the while his horse might run, straight\nupon king Mark. And when he came nigh king Mark, he cried as he were\nwood, and said, Keep thee, knight of Cornwall, for I will slay thee.\nAnon as king Mark beheld his shield he said to himself, Yonder is Sir\nLauncelot: alas, now am I destroyed. And therewithal he made his horse\nto run as fast as it might through thick and thin. And ever Sir Dagonet\nfollowed king Mark crying and rating him as a wood man through a great\nforest. When Sir Uwaine and Sir Brandiles saw Dagonet so chase king\nMark, they laughed all as they were wood. And then they took their\nhorses and rode after to see how Sir Dagonet sped. For they would not\nfor no good that Sir Dagonet were hurt, for king Arthur loved him\npassing well, and made him knight with his own hands. And at every\ntournament he began to make king Arthur to laugh. Then the knights rode\nhere and there crying and chasing after king Mark, that all the forest\nrang of the noise.\n_How Sir Palamides by adventure met king Mark flying, and how he\n overthrew Dagonet and other knights._\nSo king Mark rode by fortune by a well in the way where stood a knight\nerrant on horseback armed at all points with a great spear in his hand.\nAnd when he saw king Mark coming flying he said, Knight, return again\nfor shame, and stand with me, and I shall be thy warrant. Ah, fair\nknight, said king Mark, let me pass, for yonder cometh after me the\nbest knight of the world, with the black bended shield. Fie for shame,\nsaid the knight, he is none of the worthy knights. And if he were Sir\nLauncelot or Sir Tristram I should not doubt to meet the better of them\nboth. When king Mark heard him say that word he turned his horse and\nabode by him. And then that strong knight bare a spear to Dagonet, and\nsmote him so sore that he bare him over his horse tail, and nigh he had\nbroken his neck. And anon after him came Sir Brandiles, and when he saw\nDagonet have that fall he was passing wroth, and cried, Keep thee\nknight! And so they hurtled together wonderous sore. But the knight\nsmote Sir Brandiles so sore that he went to the earth, horse and man.\nSir Uwaine came after and saw all this. Truly, said he, yonder is a\nstrong knight. And then they feutred their spears, and this knight came\nso eagerly that he smote down Sir Uwaine. Then came Ozana with the\nhardy heart, and he was smitten down. Now, said Sir Griflet, by my\ncounsel let us send to yonder errant knight, and wit whether he be of\nArthur\u2019s court, for, as I deem, it is Sir Lamorak de Galis. So they\nsent unto him, and prayed the strange knight to tell his name, and\nwhether he were of Arthur\u2019s court or not. As for my name they shall not\nwit, but tell them I am a knight errant as they are: and let them wit\nthat I am no knight of king Arthur\u2019s court. And so the squire rode\nagain to them, and told them his answer of him. By my head, said Sir\nAgravaine, he is one of the strongest knights that ever I saw, for he\nhath overthrown three noble knights, and needs we must encounter with\nhim for shame. So Sir Agravaine feutred his spear, and that other was\nready, and smote him down over his horse to the earth. And in the same\nwise he smote Sir Uwaine les Avoutres and also Sir Griflet. Then had he\nserved them all but Sir Dinadan, for he was behind, and Sir Mordred was\nunarmed, and Dagonet had his harness. So when this was done this strong\nknight rode on his way a soft pace, and king Mark rode after him\npraising him much, but he would answer no words, but sighed wonderly\nsore, hanging down his head, taking no heed to his words. Thus they\nrode well a three mile English, and then this knight called to him a\nvarlet and bad him, Ride until yonder fair manor, and recommend me to\nthe lady of that castle and place, and pray her to send me refreshing\nof good meats and drinks. And if she ask thee what I am, tell her that\nI am the knight that followeth the glatisant beast,\u2014that is in English\nto say the questing beast. For that beast wheresoever he went he\nquested with such a noise as it had been a thirty couple of hounds.\nThen the varlet went his way, and came to the manor and saluted the\nlady, and told her from whence he came. And when she understood that he\ncame from the knight that followed the questing beast, O sweet Lord\nJesu, she said, when shall I see that noble knight, my dear son\nPalamides. Alas, will he not abide with me! And therewith she swooned\nand wept and made passing great dole. And then all so soon as she might\nshe gave the varlet all that he asked. And the varlet returned unto Sir\nPalamides, for he was a varlet of king Mark. And as soon as he came he\ntold the knight\u2019s name was Sir Palamides. I am well pleased, said king\nMark, but hold thee still and say nothing. Then they alight, and set\nthem down and reposed them awhile. Anon withal king Mark fell on sleep.\nWhen Sir Palamides found him sound asleep he took his horse and rode\nhis way, and said to them, I will not be in the company of a sleeping\nknight. And so he rode forth a great pace.\n_How king Mark and Sir Dinadan heard Sir Palamides making great sorrow\n and mourning for La Beale Isoud._\nNow turn we unto Sir Dinadan that found these seven knights passing\nheavy. And when he wist how that they sped, as heavy was he. My lord\nUwaine, said Dinadan, I dare lay my head it is Sir Lamorak de Galis; I\npromise you all I shall find him and he may be found in this country.\nAnd so Sir Dinadan rode after this knight. And so did king Mark, that\nsought him through the forest. So as king Mark rode after Sir\nPalamides, he heard a noise of a man that made great dole. Then king\nMark rode as nigh that noise as he might and as he durst. Then was he\nware of a knight that was descended off his horse and had put off his\nhelm, and there he made a piteous complaint and a dolorous of love.\nNow leave we that, and talk we of Sir Dinadan, that rode to seek Sir\nPalamides. And as he came within a forest, he met with a knight a\nchaser of a deer. Sir, said Sir Dinadan, met ye with a knight with a\nshield of silver and lions\u2019 heads? Yea, fair knight, said the other,\nwith such a knight met I with but a while ago, and straight yonder way\nbe went. Gramercy, said Sir Dinadan, for might I find the track of his\nhorse, I should not fail to find that knight. Right so as Sir Dinadan\nrode in the even late, he heard a doleful noise, as it were of a man.\nThen Sir Dinadan rode toward that noise. And when he came nigh that\nnoise, he alight off his horse and went near him on foot. Then was he\nware of a knight that stood under a tree, and his horse tied by him,\nand the helm off his head. And ever that knight made a doleful\ncomplaint as ever made knight. And always he made his complaint of La\nBeale Isoud the queen of Cornwall, and said, Ah fair lady, why love I\nthee, for thou art fairest of all other, and yet shewest thou never\nlove to me nor bounty. Alas, yet must I love thee. And I may not blame\nthee fair lady, for mine eyes be cause of this sorrow. And yet to love\nthee I am but a fool, for the best knight of the world loveth thee, and\nye him again, that is Sir Tristram de Liones. And the falsest king and\nknight is your husband, and the most coward and full of treason is your\nlord king Mark. Alas, that ever so fair a lady and peerless of all\nother should be matched with the most villainous knight of the world.\nAll this language heard king Mark what Sir Palamides said by him.\nWherefore he was adread when he saw Sir Dinadan, lest, and he espied\nhim, that he would tell Sir Palamides that he was king Mark; and\ntherefore he withdrew him, and took his horse and rode to his men where\nhe commanded them to abide. And so he rode as fast as he might unto\nCamelot. And the same day he found there Amant the knight ready, that\nbefore king Arthur had appealed him of treason. And so lightly the king\ncommanded them to do battle. And by misadventure king Mark smote Amant\nthrough the body. And yet was Amant in the righteous quarrel. And right\nso he took his horse and departed from the court for dread of Sir\nDinadan, that he would tell Sir Tristram and Sir Palamides what he was.\nThen were there maidens that La Beale Isoud had sent to Sir Tristram\nthat knew Sir Amant well.\n_How king Mark had slain Sir Amant wrongfully tofore king Arthur, and\n Sir Launcelot fetched king Mark to king Arthur._\nThen by the licence of king Arthur they went to him, and spake with\nhim, for while the truncheon of the spear stuck in his body he spake:\nAh, fair damsels, said Amant, recommend me unto La Beale Isoud, and\ntell her that I am slain for the love of her and of Sir Tristram. And\nthere he told the damsels how cowardly king Mark had slain him and Sir\nBersules his fellow:\u2014And for that deed I appealed him of treason, and\nhere I am slain in a righteous quarrel; and all was because Sir\nBersules and I would not consent by treason to slay the noble knight\nSir Tristram. Then the two maidens cried aloud that all the court might\nhear it, and said, O sweet Lord Jesu that knoweth all hid things, why\nsufferest thou so false a traitor to vanquish and slay a true knight\nthat fought in a righteous quarrel! Then anon it was sprung to the king\nand the queen, and to all lords and ladies, that it was king Mark that\nhad slain Sir Amant, and Sir Bersules afore hand, wherefore they did\ntheir battle. Then was king Arthur wroth out of measure, and so were\nall the other knights.\nBut when Sir Tristram knew all the matter, he made great dole out of\nmeasure, and wept for sorrow for loss of the noble knights Sir Bersules\nand Sir Amant. When Sir Launcelot espied Sir Tristram weep, he went\nhastily to king Arthur, and said, Sir, I pray you give me leave to\nreturn again to yonder false king and knight. I pray you, said king\nArthur, fetch him again, but I would not that ye slew him for my\nworship. Then Sir Launcelot armed him in all haste, and mounted upon a\ngreat horse, and took a spear in his hand and rode after king Mark. And\nfrom thence a three mile English Sir Launcelot overtook him, and bad\nhim\u2014Turn recreant king and knight: for whether thou wilt or not thou\nshalt go with me to king Arthur\u2019s court. King Mark returned and looked\nupon Sir Launcelot and said, Fair sir, what is your name? Wit thou\nwell, said he, my name is Sir Launcelot, and therefore defend thee. And\nwhen king Mark wist that it was Sir Launcelot, and came so fast upon\nhim with a spear, he cried then aloud, I yield me to thee Sir\nLauncelot, honourable knight. But Sir Launcelot would not hear him, but\ncame fast upon him. King Mark saw that, and made no defence, but\ntumbled down out of his saddle to the earth as a sack, and there he lay\nstill, and cried Sir Launcelot mercy.\u2014Arise, recreant knight and\nking.\u2014I will not fight, said king Mark; but whither that ye will I\nwill go with you. Alas, alas, said Sir Launcelot, that I may not give\nthee one buffet for the love of Sir Tristram and of La Beale Isoud, and\nfor the two knights that thou hast slain traitourly. And so he mounted\nupon his horse, and brought him to king Arthur. And there king Mark\nalight in that same place, and threw his helm from him upon the earth,\nand his sword, and fell flat to the earth of king Arthur\u2019s feet, and\nput him in his grace and mercy. Truly, said Arthur, ye are welcome in a\nmanner, and in a manner ye are not welcome. In this manner ye are\nwelcome, that ye come hither maugre your head, as I suppose. That is\ntruth, said king Mark, and else I had not been here: for my lord Sir\nLauncelot brought me hither through his fine force, and to him am I\nyielden to as recreant. Well, said Arthur, ye understand ye ought to do\nme service, homage, and fealty, and never would ye do me none, but ever\nye have been against me, and a destroyer of my knights: now how will ye\nacquit you? Sir, said king Mark, right as your lordship will require\nme, unto my power I will make a large amends. For he was a fair speaker\nand false there under. Then for great pleasure of Sir Tristram, to make\nthem twain accorded, the king withheld king Mark as at that time, and\nmade a broken love day between them.\n_How Sir Dinadan told Sir Palamides of the battle between Sir Launcelot\n and Sir Tristram._\nNow turn we again unto Sir Palamides, how Sir Dinadan comforted him in\nall that he might from his great sorrow. What knight are ye? said Sir\nPalamides. Sir, I am a knight errant as ye be, that hath sought you\nlong by your shield. Here is my shield, said Sir Palamides, wit ye\nwell, and ye will aught therewith, I will defend it. Nay, said Sir\nDinadan, I will not have ado with you but in good manner. And if ye\nwill ye shall find me soon ready. Sir, said Sir Dinadan, whitherward\nride you this way? By my head, said Sir Palamides, I wot not, but as\nfortune leadeth me. Heard ye or saw ye ought of Sir Tristram?\u2014Truly of\nSir Tristram I both heard and saw, and not for then we loved not\ninwardly well together, yet at my mischief Sir Tristram rescued me from\nmy death: and yet or he and I departed, by both our assents we assigned\na day that we should have met at the stony grave that Merlin set beside\nCamelot, and there to have done battle together, howbeit I was letted,\nsaid Sir Palamides, that I might not hold my day, the which grieveth me\nsore; but I have a large excuse, for I was prisoner with a lord, and\nmany other more, and that shall Sir Tristram right well understand,\nthat I brake it not of fear of cowardice. And then Sir Palamides told\nSir Dinadan the same day that they should have met. Truly, said Sir\nDinadan, that same day met Sir Launcelot and Sir Tristram at the same\ngrave of stone. And there was the most mightiest battle that ever was\nseen in this land betwixt two knights, for they fought more than two\nhours, and there they both bled so much blood that all men marvelled\nthat ever they might endure it. And so at the last by both their\nassents they were made friends and sworn brethren for ever, and no man\ncan judge the better knight. And now is Sir Tristram made a knight of\nthe Round Table, and he sitteth in the siege of the noble knight Sir\nMarhaus. By my head, said Sir Palamides, Sir Tristram is far bigger\nthan Sir Launcelot, and the hardier knight. Have ye assayed them both?\nsaid Sir Dinadan. I have seen Sir Tristram fight, said Sir Palamides,\nbut never Sir Launcelot to my witting.\u2014But at the fountain where Sir\nLauncelot lay on sleep, there with one spear he smote down Sir Tristram\nand Sir Palamides, but at that time they knew not either other. Fair\nknight, said Sir Dinadan, as for Sir Launcelot and Sir Tristram let\nthem be, for the worst of them will not be lightly matched of no knight\nthat I know living. No, said Sir Palamides; but and I had a quarrel to\nthe better of them both, I would with as good a will fight with him as\nwith you. Sir, said Sir Dinadan, I require you tell me your name, and\nin good faith I shall hold you company till that we come to Camelot,\nand there ye shall have great worship now at this great tournament; for\nthere shall be queen Guenever and La Beale Isoud of Cornwall. Wit you\nwell, Sir knight, said Sir Palamides, for the love of La Beale Isoud I\nwill be there, and else not, but I will not have ado in king Arthur\u2019s\ncourt. Sir, said Dinadan, I shall ride with you and do you service, so\nye will tell me your name. Sir knight, ye shall understand that my name\nis Sir Palamides, brother to Sir Safere, the good and noble knight, and\nSir Segwarides and I we be Saracens born of father and mother. Sir,\nsaid Sir Dinadan, I thank you much for the telling of your name. For I\nam glad of that I know your name, and I promise you by the faith of my\nbody ye shall not be hurt by me by my will, but rather be advanced. And\nthereto will I help you with all my power I promise you, doubt ye not.\nAnd certainly on my life ye shall win great worship in the court of\nking Arthur, and be right welcome. So then they dressed on their helms\nand put on their shields, and mounted upon their horses, and took the\nbroad way toward Camelot. And then were they ware of a castle that was\nfair and rich, and also passing strong as any was within this realm.\n_How Sir Lamorak justed with divers knights of the castle wherein was\n Morgan le Fay._\nSir Palamides, said Dinadan, here is a castle that I know well, and\ntherein dwelleth queen Morgan le Fay, king Arthur\u2019s sister, and king\nArthur gave her this castle, the which he hath repented him since a\nthousand times; for since king Arthur and she have been at debate and\nstrife; but this castle could he never get nor win of her by no manner\nof engine; and ever as she might she made war on king Arthur. And all\ndangerous knights she withholdeth with her for to destroy all these\nknights that king Arthur loveth. And there shall no knight pass this\nway but he must just with one knight, or with two or with three. And if\nit hap that king Arthur\u2019s knight be beaten, he shall lose his horse and\nhis harness and all that he hath, and hard if that he escape but that\nhe shall be prisoner. Truly, said Palamides, this is a shameful custom,\nand a villainous usage for a queen to use, and, namely, to make such\nwar upon her own lord that is called the flower of chivalry that is\nchristian or heathen, and with all my heart I would destroy that\nshameful custom. And I will that all the world wit she shall have no\nservice of me. And if she send out any knights, as I suppose she will,\nfor to just, they shall have both their hands full. And I shall not\nfail you, said Sir Dinadan, unto my puissance, upon my life. So as they\nstood on horseback afore the castle there came a knight with a red\nshield, and two squires after him. And he came straight unto Sir\nPalamides the good knight, and said to him, Fair and gentle knight\nerrant, I require thee for the love thou owest unto knighthood, that ye\nwill not have ado here with these men of this castle. (For this was Sir\nLamorak that thus said.) For I came hitherto to seek this deed, and it\nis my request. And therefore I beseech you, knight, let me deal, and if\nI be beaten revenge me. Well, said Palamides, let see how ye will\nspeed, and we shall behold you. Then anon came forth a knight of the\ncastle, and proffered to just with the knight with the red shield. Anon\nthey encountered together, and he with the red shield smote him so hard\nthat he bare him over to the earth. Therewith anon came another knight\nof the castle, and he was smitten so sore that he avoided his saddle.\nAnd forthwith came the third knight, and the knight with the red shield\nsmote him to the earth. Then came Sir Palamides and besought him that\nhe might help him to just. Fair knight, said he unto him, suffer me as\nat this time to have my will, for and they were twenty knights I shall\nnot doubt them. And ever there were upon the walls of the castle many\nlords and ladies that cried and said, Well have ye justed, knight with\nthe red shield. But as soon as the knight had smitten them down, his\nsquire took their horses and avoided the saddles and bridles of their\nhorses, and turned them into the forest, and made the knights to be\nkept to the end of the justs. Right so came out of the castle the\nfourth knight, and freshly proffered to just with the knight with the\nred shield. And he was ready, and he smote him so hard that horse and\nman fell to the earth, and the knight\u2019s back brake with the fall, and\nhis neck also. Truly, said Sir Palamides, that yonder is a passing good\nknight, and the best juster that ever I saw. By my head, said Sir\nDinadan, he is as good as ever was Sir Launcelot or Sir Tristram, what\nknight somever he be.\n_How Sir Palamides would have justed for Sir Lamorak with the knights\n of the castle._\nThen forthwithal came out a knight of the castle with a shield bended\nwith black and with white. And anon the knight with the red shield and\nhe encountered together so hard that he smote the knight of the castle\nthrough the bended shield and through the body, and brake the horse\u2019s\nback. Fair knight, said Sir Palamides, ye have overmuch in hand,\ntherefore I pray you let me just, for ye had need to be reposed. Why\nsir, said the knight, seem ye that I am weak and feeble? and, sir, me\nthinketh ye proffer me wrong, and to me shame, when I do well enough. I\ntell you now as I told you erst, for and they were twenty knights I\nshall beat them. And if I be beaten or slain then may ye revenge me.\nAnd if ye think that I be weary, and ye have an appetite to just with\nme, I shall find you justing enough. Sir, said Palamides, I said it not\nbecause I would just with you, but me seemeth that ye have overmuch on\nhand. And therefore, and ye were gentle, said the knight with the red\nshield, ye should not proffer me shame; therefore I require you to just\nwith me, and ye shall find that I am not weary. Sith ye require me,\nsaid Sir Palamides, take keep to yourself. Then they two knights came\ntogether as fast as their horses might run, and the knight smote Sir\nPalamides so sore on the shield that the spear went into his side, a\ngreat wound and a perilous. And therewithal Sir Palamides voided his\nsaddle. And that knight turned unto Sir Dinadan. And when he saw him\ncoming, he cried aloud and said, Sir, I will not have ado with you. But\nfor that he let it not, but came straight upon him. So Sir Dinadan for\nshame put forth his spear and all to-shivered it upon the knight. But\nhe smote Sir Dinadan again so hard that he smote him clean from his\nsaddle; but their horses he would not suffer his squires to meddle\nwith, and because they were knights errant. Then he dressed him again\nto the castle, and justed with seven knights more, and there was none\nof them might withstand him, but he bare him to the earth. And of these\ntwelve knights he slew in plain justs four. And the eight knights he\nmade them to swear on the cross of a sword that they should never use\nthe evil customs of the castle. And when he had made them to swear that\noath, he let them pass. And ever stood the lords and the ladies on the\ncastle walls crying and saying, Knight with the red shield, ye have\nmarvellously well done, as ever we saw knight do. And therewith came a\nknight out of the castle unarmed, and said, Knight with the red shield,\novermuch damage hast thou done to us this day, therefore return whither\nthou wilt, for here are no more that will have ado with thee, for we\nrepent sore that ever thou camest here, for by thee is fordone the old\ncustom of this castle. And with that word he turned again into the\ncastle, and shut the gates. Then the knight with the red shield turned\nand called his squires, and so past forth on his way, and rode a great\npace. And when he was past, Sir Palamides went to Sir Dinadan and said,\nI had never such a shame of one knight that ever I met, and therefore I\ncast me to ride after him, and to be revenged with my sword. For a\nhorseback I deem I shall get no worship of him. Sir Palamides, said\nDinadan, ye shall not meddle with him by my counsel, for ye shall get\nno worship of him, and for this cause,\u2014ye have seen him this day have\nhad overmuch to do, and overmuch travailed. Truly, said Sir Palamides,\nI shall never be at ease till that I have had ado with him. Sir, said\nDinadan, I shall give you my beholding. Well, said Sir Palamides, then\nshall ye see how we shall redress our mights. So they took their horses\nof their varlets, and rode after the knight with the red shield; and\ndown in a valley beside a fountain they were ware where he was alight\nto repose him, and had done off his helm for to drink at the well.\n_How Sir Lamorak justed with Sir Palamides and hurt him grievously._\nThen Palamides rode fast till he came nigh him. And then he said,\nKnight, remember ye of the shame ye did to me right now at the castle,\ntherefore dress thee, for I will have ado with thee. Fair knight, said\nhe unto Sir Palamides, of me ye win no worship, for ye have seen this\nday that I have been travailed sore. As for that, said Palamides, I\nwill not let; for wit ye well I will be revenged. Well, said the\nknight, I may happen to endure you. And therewithal he mounted upon his\nhorse, and took a great spear in his hand, ready for to just. Nay, said\nPalamides, I will not just, for I am sure at justing I get no prize.\nFair knight, said that knight, it would beseem a knight to just and to\nfight on horseback. Ye shall see what I will do, said Palamides. And\ntherewith he alight down upon foot, and dressed his shield afore him,\nand pulled out his sword. Then the knight with the red shield descended\ndown from his horse, and dressed his shield afore him, and so he drew\nout his sword. And then they came together a soft pace, and wonderly\nthey lashed together passing thick, the mountenance of an hour, or ever\nthey breathed. Then they traced and traversed, and waxed wonderly\nwroth, and either behight other death. They hewed so fast with their\nswords, that they cut in down half their swords and mails, that the\nbare flesh in some places stood above their harness. And when Sir\nPalamides beheld his fellow\u2019s sword over covered with his blood, it\ngrieved him sore. Somewhile they foined, somewhile they strake as wild\nmen. But at the last Sir Palamides waxed faint, because of his first\nwound that he had at the castle with a spear, for that wound grieved\nhim wonderly sore. Fair knight, said Palamides, me seemeth we have\nassayed either other passing sore, and if it may please thee I require\nthee of thy knighthood tell me thy name. Sir, said the knight to\nPalamides, that is me loth to do, for thou hast done me wrong and no\nknighthood to proffer me battle, considering my great travail: but and\nthou wilt tell me thy name, I will tell thee mine. Sir, said he, wit\nthou well my name is Palamides. Ah sir, ye shall understand my name is\nSir Lamorak de Galis, son and heir unto the good knight and king, king\nPellinore; and Sir Tor the good knight is my half brother. When Sir\nPalamides heard him say so, he kneeled down and asked mercy: For\noutrageously have I done to you this day, considering the great deeds\nof arms I have seen you do, shamefully and unknightly I have required\nyou to do battle. Ah, Sir Palamides, said Sir Lamorak, over much have\nye done and said to me. And therewith he embraced him with both his\nhands, and said, Palamides the worthy knight, in all this land is no\nbetter than ye, nor of more prowess, and me repented sore that we\nshould fight together. So it doth not me, said Sir Palamides, and yet\nam I sorer wounded than ye be; but as for that, I shall soon thereof be\nwhole. But certainly I would not for the fairest castle in this land\nbut if thou and I had met, for I shall love you the days of my life\nafore all other knights, except my brother Sir Safere. I say the same,\nsaid Sir Lamorak, except my brother Sir Tor. Then came Sir Dinadan, and\nhe made great joy of Sir Lamorak. Then their squires dressed both their\nshields and their harness, and stopped their wounds. And thereby at a\npriory they rested them all night.\n_How it was told Sir Launcelot that Dagonet chased king Mark, and how a\n knight overthrew him and six knights._\nNow turn we again, when Sir Uwaine and Sir Brandiles with his fellows\ncame to the court of king Arthur: they told the king, Sir Launcelot,\nand Sir Tristram how Sir Dagonet the fool chased king Mark through the\nforest, and how the strong knight smote them down all seven with one\nspear. There was great laughing and jesting at king Mark and at Sir\nDagonet. But all these knights could not tell what knight it was that\nrescued king Mark. Then they asked king Mark if that he knew him. And\nhe answered and said, He named himself the knight that followed the\nquesting beast, and on that name he sent one of my varlets to a place\nwhere was his mother, and when she heard from whence he came, she made\npassing great dole, and discovered to my varlet his name, and said, O\nmy dear son, Sir Palamides, why wilt thou not see me? and therefore,\nSir, said king Mark, it is to understand his name is Sir Palamides, a\nnoble knight. Then were all these seven knights glad that they knew his\nname. Now turn we again, for on the morn they took their horses, both\nSir Lamorak, Palamides, and Dinadan, with their squires and varlets,\ntill they saw a fair castle that stood on a mountain well closed. And\nthither they rode, and there they found a knight that hight Galahalt,\nthat was lord of that castle. And there they had great cheer, and were\nwell eased. Sir Dinadan, said Sir Lamorak, what will ye do? O sir, said\nDinadan, I will to-morrow to the court of king Arthur. By my head, said\nSir Palamides, I will not ride these three days, for I am sore hurt and\nmuch have I bled, and therefore I will repose me here. Truly, said Sir\nLamorak, and I will abide here with you. And when ye ride then will I\nride, unless that ye tarry over long, then will I take my horse.\nTherefore I pray you, Sir Dinadan, abide and ride with us. Faithfully,\nsaid Dinadan, I will not abide, for I have such a talent to see Sir\nTristram that I may not abide long from him. Ah, Dinadan, said Sir\nPalamides, now do I understand that ye love my mortal enemy, and\ntherefore how should I trust you? Well, said Dinadan, I love my lord\nSir Tristram above all other, and him will I serve and do honour. So\nshall I, said Sir Lamorak, in all that may lie in my power. So on the\nmorn Sir Dinadan rode unto the court of king Arthur. And by the way as\nhe rode he saw where stood an errant knight, and made him ready for to\njust. Not so, said Sir Dinadan, for I have no will to just. With me\nshall ye just, said the knight, or that ye pass this way. Whether ask\nye justs? by love or by hate? The knight answered, Wit ye well I ask it\nfor love, and not for hate. It may well be so, said Sir Dinadan, but ye\nproffer me hard love, when ye will just with me with a sharp spear. But\nfair knight, said Sir Dinadan, sith ye will just with me, meet with me\nin the court of king Arthur, and there shall I just with you. Well,\nsaid the knight, sith ye will not just with me, I pray you tell me your\nname. Sir knight, said he, my name is Sir Dinadan. Ah, said the knight,\nfull well know I you for a good knight and a gentle, and wit you well I\nlove you heartily. Then shall here be no justs, said Dinadan, betwixt\nus. So they departed. And the same day he came to Camelot where lay\nking Arthur. And there he saluted the king and the queen, Sir Launcelot\nand Sir Tristram. And all the court was glad of Sir Dinadan, for he was\ngentle, wise, and courteous, and a good knight. And in especial the\nvaliant knight Sir Tristam loved Sir Dinadan passing well above all\nother knights save Sir Launcelot. Then the king asked Sir Dinadan what\nadventures he had seen. Sir, said Dinadan, I have seen many adventures,\nand of some king Mark knoweth, but not all. Then the king hearkened Sir\nDinadan how he told that Sir Palamides and he were afore the castle of\nMorgan le Fay, and how Sir Lamorak took the justs afore them, and how\nhe forjusted twelve knights, and of them four he slew, and how after he\nsmote down Sir Palamides and me both. I may not believe that, said the\nking, for Sir Palamides is a passing good knight. That is very truth,\nsaid Sir Dinadan, but yet I saw him better proved hand for hand. And\nthen he told the king all that battle, and how Sir Palamides was more\nweaker and more hurt, and more lost of his blood. And without doubt,\nsaid Sir Dinadan, had the battle longer lasted Palamides had been\nslain. Oh, said king Arthur, this is to me a great marvel. Sir, said\nTristram, marvel ye no thing thereof, for at mine advice there is not a\nvalianter knight in all the world living, for I know his might. And now\nI will say you, I was never so weary of knight but if it were Sir\nLauncelot. And there is no knight in the world except Sir Launcelot I\nwould did so well as Sir Lamorak. Truly, said the king, I would that\nknight Sir Lamorak came to this court. Sir, said Dinadan, he will be\nhere in short space and Sir Palamides both. But I fear that Palamides\nmay not yet travel.\n_How king Arthur let do cry a justs, and how Sir Lamorak came in and\n overthrew Sir Gawaine and many other._\nThen within three days after the king let make a justing at a priory.\nAnd there made them ready many knights of the Round Table. For Sir\nGawaine and his brethren made them ready to just. But Tristram,\nLauncelot, nor Dinadan, would not just, but suffered Sir Gawaine, for\nthe love of king Arthur, with his brethren, to win the gree if they\nmight. Then on the morn they apparelled them to just, Sir Gawaine and\nhis four brethren, and did there great deeds of arms. And Sir Ector de\nMaris did marvellously well; but Sir Gawaine passed all that\nfellowship, wherefore king Arthur and all the knights gave Sir Gawaine\nthe honour at the beginning. Right so king Arthur was ware of a knight\nand two squires the which came out of a forest side, with a shield\ncovered with leather, and then he came slily and hurtled here and\nthere, and anon with one spear he had smitten down two knights of the\nRound Table. Then with his hurtling he lost the covering of his shield.\nThen was the king and all other ware that he bare a red shield. Oh,\nsaid king Arthur, see where rideth a stout knight, he with the red\nshield. And there was noise and crying, Beware the knight with the red\nshield. So within a little while he had overthrown three brethren of\nSir Gawaine\u2019s. Truly, said king Arthur, me seemeth yonder is the best\njuster that ever I saw. With that he saw him encounter with Sir\nGawaine, and he smote him down with so great force, that he made his\nhorse to avoid his saddle. How now, said the king, Sir Gawaine hath a\nfall, well were me and I knew what knight he were with the red shield.\nI know him well, said Dinadan, but as at this time ye shall not know\nhis name. By my head, said Sir Tristram, he justed better than Sir\nPalamides, and if ye list to know his name, wit ye well his name is Sir\nLamorak de Galis. As they stood thus talking, Sir Gawaine and he\nencountered together again, and there he smote Sir Gawaine from his\nhorse, and bruised him sore. And in the sight of king Arthur he smote\ndown twenty knights beside Sir Gawaine and his brethren. And so clearly\nwas the prize given him as a knight peerless. Then slily and\nmarvellously Sir Lamorak withdrew him from all the fellowship into the\nforest side. All this espied king Arthur, for his eye went never from\nhim.\nThen the king, Sir Launcelot, Sir Tristram, and Sir Dinadan took their\nhacknies and rode straight after the good knight Sir Lamorak de Galis,\nand there found him. And thus said the king, Ah fair knight, well be ye\nfound. When he saw the king he put off his helm and saluted him. And\nwhen he saw Sir Tristram he alight down off his horse, and ran to him\nfor to take him by the thighs; but Sir Tristram would not suffer him,\nbut he alight or that he came, and either took other in arms, and made\ngreat joy of other. The king was glad, and also was all the fellowship\nof the Round Table, except Sir Gawaine and his brethren. And when they\nwist that he was Sir Lamorak, they had great despite at him, and were\nwonderly wroth with him, that he had put them to dishonour that day.\nThen Gawaine called privily in counsel all his brethren, and to them\nsaid thus: Fair brethren, here may ye see whom that we hate king Arthur\nloveth, and whom that we love he hateth. And wit ye well, my fair\nbrethren, that this Sir Lamorak will never love us, because we slew his\nfather king Pellinore, for we deemed that he slew our father, king of\nOrkney. And for the despite of Pellinore Sir Lamorak did us a shame to\nour mother, therefore I will be revenged. Sir, said Sir Gawaine\u2019s\nbrethren, let see how ye will or may be revenged, and ye shall find us\nready. Well, said Sir Gawaine, hold you still, and we shall espy our\ntime.\n_How king Arthur made king Mark to be accorded with Sir Tristram, and\n how they departed toward Cornwall._\nNow pass we our matter, and leave we Sir Gawaine, and speak of king\nArthur that on a day said unto king Mark, Sir, I pray you to give me a\ngift that I shall ask you. Sir, said king Mark, I will give you\nwhatsoever ye desire, and it be in my power. Sir, gramercy, said king\nArthur: this I will ask you, that ye will be good lord unto Sir\nTristram, for he is a man of great honour; and that ye will take him\nwith you into Cornwall, and let him see his friends, and there cherish\nhim for my sake. Sir, said king Mark, I promise you by the faith of my\nbody, and by the faith I owe to God and to you, I shall worship him for\nyour sake in all that I can or may. Sir, said Arthur, and I will\nforgive you all the evil will that ever I owed you, and so be that ye\nswear that upon a book afore me. With a good will, said king Mark. And\nso he there sware upon a book afore him and all his knights, and\ntherewith king Mark and Sir Tristram took either other by the hands\nhard knit together. But for all this king Mark thought falsely, as it\nproved after, for he put Sir Tristram in prison, and cowardly would\nhave slain him. Then soon after king Mark took his leave to ride into\nCornwall, and Sir Tristram made him ready to ride with him, wherefore\nthe most part of the Round Table were wroth and heavy; and in especial\nSir Launcelot, and Sir Lamorak, and Sir Dinadan were wroth out of\nmeasure. For well they wist king Mark would slay or destroy Sir\nTristram. Alas, said Dinadan, that my lord Sir Tristram shall depart.\nAnd Sir Tristram took such sorrow that he was amazed like a fool. Alas,\nsaid Sir Launcelot unto king Arthur, what have ye done, for ye shall\nlose the most man of worship that ever came into your court? It was his\nown desire, said Arthur, and therefore I might not do withal; for I\nhave done all that I can, and made them at accord. Accord, said Sir\nLauncelot, fie upon that accord, for ye shall hear that he shall slay\nSir Tristram, or put him in a prison, for he is the most coward and the\nvillainest king and knight that is now living. And therewith Sir\nLauncelot departed, and came to king Mark, and said to him thus: Sir\nking, wit thou well, the good knight Sir Tristram shall go with thee.\nBeware, I counsel thee, of treason; for and thou mischieve that knight,\nby any manner of falsehood or treason, by the faith I owe to God and to\nthe order of knighthood, I shall slay thee with mine own hands. Sir\nLauncelot, said the king, over much have ye said to me; and I have\nsworn and said over largely afore king Arthur, in hearing of all his\nknights, that I shall not slay nor betray him. It were to me overmuch\nshame to break my promise. Ye say well, said Sir Launcelot, but ye are\ncalled so false and full of treason that no man may believe you.\nForsooth, it is known well wherefore ye came into this country, and for\nnone other cause but for to slay Sir Tristram. So with great dole king\nMark and Sir Tristram rode together; for it was by Sir Tristram\u2019s will\nand his means to go with king Mark, and all was for the intent to see\nLa Beale Isoud; for without the sight of her Sir Tristram might not\nendure.\n_How Sir Percivale was made knight of king Arthur, and how a dumb maid\n spake, and brought him to the Round Table._\nNow turn we again unto Sir Lamorak, and speak we of his brethren. Sir\nTor, which was king Pellinore\u2019s first son; and Sir Aglavale was his\nnext son; Sir Lamorak, Dornar, Percivale, these were his sons too. So\nwhen king Mark and Sir Tristram were departed from the court, there was\nmade great dole and sorrow for the departing of Sir Tristram. Then the\nking and his knights made no manner of joys eight days after. And at\nthe eight days\u2019 end, there came to the court a knight, with a young\nsquire with him; and when this knight was unarmed, he went to the king,\nand required him to make the young squire a knight. Of what lineage is\nhe come? said king Arthur. Sir, said the knight, he is the son of king\nPellinore, that did you sometime good service, and he is brother unto\nLamorak de Galis the good knight. Well, said the king, for what cause\ndesire ye that of me, that I should make him knight? Wit you well, my\nlord the king, that this young squire is brother to me, as well as to\nSir Lamorak, and my name is Aglavale. Sir Aglavale, said Arthur, for\nthe love of Sir Lamorak, and for his father\u2019s love, he shall be made\nknight to-morrow. Now tell me, said Arthur, what is his name? Sir, said\nthe knight, his name is Percivale de Galis.\nSo on the morn the king made him knight in Camelot. But the king and\nall the knights thought it would be long or that he proved a good\nknight. Then at the dinner when the king was set at the table, and\nevery knight after he was of prowess, the king commanded him to be set\namong mean knights; and so was Sir Percivale set as the king commanded.\nThen was there a maiden in the queen\u2019s court that was come of high\nblood; and she was dumb, and never spake word. Right so she came\nstraight into the hall, and went unto Sir Percivale, and took him by\nthe hand, and said aloud, that the king and all the knights might hear\nit, Arise, Sir Percivale the noble knight and God\u2019s knight, and go with\nme; and so he did. And there she brought him to the right side of the\nsiege-perilous, and said, Fair knight, take here thy siege, for that\nsiege appertaineth to thee, and to none other. Right so she departed\nand asked a priest. And as she was confessed and houselled; then she\ndied. Then the king and all the court made great joy of Sir Percivale.\n_How Sir Lamorak visited king Lot\u2019s wife, and how Sir Gaheris slew her\n which was his own mother._\nNow turn we unto Sir Lamorak, that much was there praised. Then, by the\nmean of Sir Gawaine and his brethren, they sent for their mother there\nbesides fast by a castle beside Camelot; and all was to that intent to\nslay Sir Lamorak. The queen of Orkney was there but a while, but Sir\nLamorak wist of her being, and was full fain; and for to make an end of\nthis matter he sent unto her, and there betwixt them was a time\nassigned that Sir Lamorak should come to her. Thereof was ware Sir\nGaheris, and there he rode afore, the same time, and waited upon Sir\nLamorak. And then he saw where he came all armed; and where Sir Lamorak\nalight, he tied his horse to a privy postern, and so he went into a\nparlour and unarmed him; and then he went unto the queen, and she made\nof him passing great joy, and he of her again, for either loved other\npassing sore. So when the knight, Sir Gaheris, saw his time, he came\nunto them, all armed, with his sword naked, and suddenly gat his mother\nby the hair, and strake off her head. When Sir Lamorak saw the blood\ndash upon him all hot, the which he loved passing well, wit you well he\nwas sore abashed and dismayed of that dolorous knight. And therewithal\nSir Lamorak leaped up as a knight dismayed, saying thus: Ah Sir\nGaheris, knight of the Table Round, foul and evil have ye done, and to\nyou great shame. Alas, why have ye slain your mother that bare you;\nwith more right ye should have slain me. The offence hast thou done,\nsaid Gaheris, notwithstanding a man is born to offer his service, but\nyet shouldest thou beware with whom thou meddlest, for thou hast put me\nand my brethren to a shame, and thy father slew our father; and thou to\nlove our mother is too much shame for us to suffer. And as for thy\nfather king Pellinore, my brother Sir Gawaine and I slew him. Ye did\nhim the more wrong, said Sir Lamorak, for my father slew not your\nfather; it was Balan le Savage; and as yet my father\u2019s death is not\nrevenged. Leave those words, said Gaheris, for and thou speak\nfeloniously I will slay thee, but because thou art unarmed I am ashamed\nto slay thee. But wit thou well, in what place I may get thee I shall\nslay thee; and now my mother is quit of thee; and therefore withdraw\nthee and take thine armour, that thou were gone. Sir Lamorak saw there\nwas none other boot, but fast armed him, and took his horse, and rode\nhis way, making great sorrow. But for the shame and dolour he would not\nride to king Arthur\u2019s court, but rode another way. But when it was\nknown that Gaheris had slain his mother, the king was passing wroth,\nand commanded him to go out of his court. Wit ye well, Sir Gawaine was\nwroth that Gaheris had slain his mother, and let Sir Lamorak escape.\nAnd for this matter was the king passing wroth, and so was Sir\nLauncelot, and many other knights. Sir, said Sir Launcelot, here is a\ngreat mischief befallen by felony, and by forecast treason, that your\nsister is thus shamefully slain. And I dare say that it was wrought by\ntreason, and I dare say ye shall lose that good knight Sir Lamorak, the\nwhich is great pity. I wote well and am sure, and Sir Tristram wist it\nhe would never more come within your court, the which should grieve you\nmuch more, and all your knights. God defend, said the noble king\nArthur, that I should lose Sir Lamorak or Sir Tristram, for then twain\nof my chief knights of the Table Round were gone. Sir, said Sir\nLauncelot, I am sure that ye shall lose Sir Lamorak, for Sir Gawaine\nand his brethren will slay him by one mean or other, for they among\nthem have concluded and sworn to slay him and ever they may see their\ntime. That shall I let, said Arthur.\n_How Sir Agravaine and Sir Mordred met with a knight fleeing, and how\n they both were overthrown, and of Sir Dinadan._\nNow leave we of Sir Lamorak, and speak of Sir Gawaine\u2019s brethren, and\nspecially of Sir Agravaine and Sir Mordred. As they rode on their\nadventures, they met with a knight flying sore wounded, and they asked\nhim what tidings? Fair knights, said he, here cometh a knight after me\nthat will slay me. With that came Sir Dinadan, riding to them by\nadventure, but he would promise them no help. But Sir Agravaine and Sir\nMordred promised him to rescue him. Therewithal came that knight\nstraight unto them. And anon he proffered to just. That saw Sir\nMordred, and rode to him; but he strake Sir Mordred over his horse\ntail. That saw Sir Agravaine, and straight he rode toward that knight.\nAnd right so as he served Mordred, so he served Agravaine, and said to\nthem, Sirs, wit ye well both, that I am Breuse Sance Pit\u00e9, that hath\ndone this to you. And yet he rode over Agravaine five or six times.\nWhen Dinadan saw this, he must needs just with him for shame. And so\nDinadan and he encountered together, that with pure strength Sir\nDinadan smote him over his horse tail. Then he took his horse and fled.\nFor he was on foot one of the valiantest knights in Arthur\u2019s days, and\na great destroyer of all good knights. Then rode Sir Dinadan unto Sir\nMordred and unto Sir Agravaine. Sir knight, said they all, well have ye\ndone, and well have ye revenged us; wherefore we pray you tell us your\nname. Fair sirs, ye ought to know my name, the which is called Sir\nDinadan. When they understood that it was Dinadan, they were more wroth\nthan they were before, for they hated him out of measure, because of\nSir Lamorak. For Dinadan had such a custom that he loved all good\nknights that were valiant, and he hated all those that were destroyers\nof good knights. And there were none that hated Dinadan but those that\never were called murderers. Then spake the hurt knight that Breuse\nSance Pit\u00e9 had chased, his name was Dalan, and said, If thou be\nDinadan, thou slewest my father. It may well be so, said Dinadan, but\nthen it was in my defence, and at his request. By my head, said Dalan,\nthou shalt die therefore. And therewith he dressed his spear and his\nshield. And to make the shorter tale, Sir Dinadan smote him down off\nhis horse, that his neck was nigh broken. And in the same wise he smote\nSir Mordred and Sir Agravaine. And after, in the quest of the\nSancgreal, cowardly and feloniously they slew Dinadan, the which was\ngreat damage, for he was a great jester and a passing good knight. And\nso Sir Dinadan rode to a castle that hight Beale-Valet, and there he\nfound Sir Palamides, that was not yet whole of the wound that Sir\nLamorak gave him. And there Dinadan told Palamides all the tidings that\nhe heard and saw of Sir Tristram, and how he was gone with king Mark,\nand with him he hath all his will and desire. Therewith Sir Palamides\nwaxed wroth, for he loved La Beale Isoud, and then he wist well that\nSir Tristram should see her.\n_How king Arthur, the queen, and Launcelot received letters out of\n Cornwall, and of the answer again._\nNow leave we Sir Palamides and Sir Dinadan, in the Castle of\nBeale-Valet, and turn we again unto king Arthur. There came a knight\nout of Cornwall, his name was Fergus, a fellow of the Round Table, and\nthere he told the king and Sir Launcelot good tidings of Sir Tristram,\nand there were brought goodly letters, and how he left him in the\nCastle of Tintagil. Then came the damsel that brought goodly letters\nunto king Arthur and unto Sir Launcelot; and there she had passing good\ncheer of the king and of the queen Guenever, and of Sir Launcelot. Then\nthey wrote goodly letters again. But Sir Launcelot had ever Sir\nTristram beware of king Mark; for ever he called him in his letters\nking Fox, as who saith, He fareth all with wiles and treason: whereof\nSir Tristram in his heart thanked Sir Launcelot. Then the damsel went\nunto La Beale Isoud, and bare her letter from the king and from Sir\nLauncelot, whereof she was in passing great joy. Fair damsel, said La\nBeale Isoud, how fareth my lord Arthur, and the queen Guenever, and the\nnoble knight, Sir Launcelot du Lake? She answered, and to make short\ntale, Much the better that ye and Sir Tristram be in joy. Truly, said\nLa Beale Isoud, Sir Tristram suffereth great pain for me, and I for\nhim. So the damsel departed, and brought letters to king Mark. And when\nhe had read them, and understood them, he was wroth with Sir Tristram,\nfor he deemed that he had sent the damsel unto king Arthur; for Arthur\nand Launcelot in a manner threatened king Mark. And as king Mark read\nthese letters he deemed treason by Sir Tristram. Damsel, said king\nMark, will ye ride again, and bear letters from me unto king Arthur?\nSir, she said, I will be at your commandment to ride when ye will. Ye\nsay well, said the king; come again, said the king, to-morn, and fetch\nyour letters. Then she departed, and told them how she should ride\nagain with letters unto Arthur. Then, we pray you, said La Beale Isoud\nand Sir Tristram, that when ye have received your letters, that ye\nwould come by us, that we may see the privity of your letters. All that\nI may do, madam, ye wot well I must do for Sir Tristram, for I have\nbeen long his own maiden. So on the morn the damsel went to king Mark,\nto have had his letters, and to depart. I am not advised, said king\nMark, at this time to send my letters. Then privily and secretly he\nsent letters unto king Arthur, and unto queen Guenever, and unto Sir\nLauncelot. So the varlet departed, and found the king and queen in\nWales, at Carlion. And as the king and the queen were at mass the\nvarlet came with the letters; and when mass was done the king and the\nqueen opened the letters privily by themselves. And the beginning of\nthe king\u2019s letters spake wonderly short unto king Arthur, and bade him\nintermeddle with himself, and with his wife, and of his knights, for he\nwas able enough to rule and keep his wife.\n_How Sir Launcelot was wroth with the letter that he received from king\n Mark, and of Dinadan which made a lay of king Mark._\nWhen king Arthur understood the letter he mused of many things, and\nthought on his sister\u2019s words, queen Morgan le Fay, that she had said\nbetwixt queen Guenever and Sir Launcelot. And in this thought he\nstudied a great while. Then he bethought him again how his sister was\nhis own enemy, and that she hated the queen and Sir Launcelot, and so\nhe put all that out of his thought. Then king Arthur read the letter\nagain, and the latter clause said that king Mark took Sir Tristram for\nhis mortal enemy, wherefore he put Arthur out of doubt he would be\nrevenged of Sir Tristram. Then was king Arthur wroth with king Mark.\nAnd when queen Guenever read her letter, and understood it, she was\nwroth out of measure, for the letter spake shame by her, and by Sir\nLauncelot. And so privily she sent the letter unto Sir Launcelot. And\nwhen he wist the intent of the letter, he was so wroth that he laid him\ndown on his bed to sleep, whereof Sir Dinadan was ware, for it was his\nmanner to be privy with all good knights. And as Sir Launcelot slept he\nstole the letter out of his hand, and read it word by word; and then he\nmade great sorrow for anger. And so Sir Launcelot awaked, and went to a\nwindow, and read the letter again, the which made him angry. Sir, said\nDinadan, wherefore be ye angry? discover your heart to me. For sooth ye\nwot well I owe you good will, howbeit I am a poor knight, and a\nservitor unto you and to all good knights. For though I be not of\nworship myself, yet I love all those that be of worship. It is truth,\nsaid Sir Launcelot, ye are a trusty knight, and for great trust I will\nshew you my counsel. And when Dinadan understood all, he said, This is\nmy counsel: set you right nought by these threats, for king Mark is so\nvillainous that by fair speech shall never man get of him. But ye shall\nsee what I shall do. I will make a lay for him, and when it is made I\nshall make an harper to sing it afore him. So anon he went and made it,\nand taught it an harper that hight Eliot, and when he knew it, he\ntaught it to many harpers. And so by the will of Sir Launcelot, and of\nArthur, the harpers went straight into Wales and into Cornwall, to sing\nthe lay that Sir Dinadan made by king Mark, which was the worst lay\nthat ever harper sang with harp or with any other instruments.\n_How Sir Tristram was hurt, and of a war made to king Mark; and of Sir\n Tristram, how he promised to rescue him._\nNow turn we again unto Sir Tristram and to king Mark. As Sir Tristram\nwas at justs and at tournament it fortuned he was sore hurt, both with\na spear and with a sword. But yet he wan always the degree. And for to\nrepose him he went to a good knight that dwelled in Cornwall in a\ncastle, whose name was Sir Dinas the seneschal. Then by misfortune\nthere came out of Sessoin a great number of men of arms, and an hideous\nhost; and they entered nigh the castle of Tintagil; and their captain\u2019s\nname was Elias, a good man of arms. When king Mark understood his\nenemies were entered into his land, he made great dole and sorrow, for\nin no wise by his will king Mark would not send for Sir Tristram, for\nhe hated him deadly. So when his council was come, they devised and\ncast many perils of the strength of their enemies; and then they\nconcluded all at once, and said thus unto king Mark, Sir, wit ye well\nye must send for Sir Tristram the good knight, or else they will never\nbe overcome. For by Sir Tristram they must be fought withal, or else we\nrow against the stream. Well, said king Mark, I will do by your\ncounsel. But yet he was full loth thereto, but need constrained him to\nsend for him. Then was he sent for in all haste that might be, that he\nshould come to king Mark. When Sir Tristram understood that the king\nhad sent for him, he mounted upon a soft ambler and rode to king Mark.\nAnd when he was come, the king said thus: Fair nephew Sir Tristram,\nthis is all: here be come our enemies of Sessoin, that are here nigh\nhand; and without tarrying they must be met with shortly, or else they\nwill destroy this country. Sir, said Sir Tristram, wit ye well, all my\npower is at your commandment; and wit ye well Sir, these eight days may\nI bear none arms, for my wounds be not yet whole. And by that day I\nshall do what I may. Ye say well, said king Mark: then go ye again, and\nrepose you, and make you fresh; and I shall go and meet the Sessoins\nwith all my power. So the king departed unto Tintagil, and Sir Tristram\nwent to repose him. And the king made a great host, and departed them\nin three. The first part led Sir Dinas the seneschal, and Sir Andred\nled the second part, and Sir Arguis led the third part, and he was of\nthe blood of king Mark. And the Sessoins had three great battles, and\nmany good men of arms. And so king Mark, by the advice of his knights,\nissued out of the castle of Tintagil upon his enemies. And Dinas the\ngood knight rode out afore, and slew two knights with his own hands;\nand then began the battles. And there was marvellous breaking of\nspears, and smiting of swords, and slew down many good knights, and\never was Sir Dinas the seneschal the best of king Mark\u2019s part. And thus\nthe battle endured long with great mortality. But at the last king Mark\nand Sir Dinas, were they never so loth, they withdrew them to the\ncastle of Tintagil, with great slaughter of people, and the Sessoins\nfollowed on fast, that ten of them were put within the gates, and four\nslain with the portcullis. Then king Mark sent for Sir Tristram by a\nvarlet, that told him all the mortality. Then he sent the varlet again,\nand bade him, Tell king Mark that I will come as soon as I am whole,\nfor erst I may do him no good. Then king Mark had his answer. Therewith\ncame Elias, and bade the king yield up the castle, for ye may not hold\nit no while. Sir Elias, said the king, so will I yield up the castle,\nif I be not soon rescued. Anon king Mark sent again for rescue to Sir\nTristram. By then Sir Tristram was whole, and he had gotten him ten\ngood knights of Arthur\u2019s, and with them he rode unto Tintagil. And when\nhe saw the great host of Sessoins he marvelled wonder greatly. And then\nSir Tristram rode by the woods and by the ditches as secretly as he\nmight, till he came nigh the gates. And there dressed a knight to him,\nwhen he saw that Sir Tristram would enter; and Sir Tristram smote him\ndown dead. And so he served three more. And every each of these ten\nknights slew a man of arms. So Sir Tristram entered into the castle of\nTintagil. And when king Mark wist that Sir Tristram was come, he was\nglad of his coming, and so was all the fellowship, and of him they made\ngreat joy.\n_How Sir Tristram overcame the battle, and how Elias desired a man to\n fight body for body._\nSo on the morn, Elias the captain came and bade king Mark come out and\ndo battle. For now the good knight Sir Tristram is entered, it will be\na shame to thee, said Elias, for to keep thy walls. When king Mark\nunderstood this, he was wroth, and said no word, but went unto Sir\nTristram and asked him his counsel. Sir, said Sir Tristram, will ye\nthat I give him his answer? I will well, said king Mark. Then Sir\nTristram said thus to the messager, Bear thy lord word from the king\nand me, that we will do battle with him to-morn in the plain field.\nWhat is your name? said the messager. Wit thou well my name is Sir\nTristram de Liones. Therewithal the messager departed, and told his\nlord Elias all that he had heard. Sir, said Sir Tristram unto king\nMark, I pray you give me leave to have the rule of the battle. I pray\nyou take the rule, said king Mark. Then Sir Tristram let devise the\nbattle in what manner that it should be. He let depart his host in six\nparts, and ordained Sir Dinas the seneschal to have the fore ward, and\nother knights to rule the remnant: and the same night Sir Tristram\nburnt all the Sessoins\u2019 ships unto the cold water. Anon as Elias wist\nthat, he said, It was of Sir Tristram\u2019s doing, for he casteth that we\nshall never escape, mother\u2019s son of us; therefore, fair fellows, fight\nfreely to-morrow, and miscomfort you nought for any knight, though he\nbe the best knight in the world: he may not have ado with us all. Then\nthey ordained their battles in four parts, wonderly well apparelled and\ngarnished with men of arms. Thus they within issued, and they without\nset freely upon them; and there Sir Dinas did great deeds of arms. Not\nfor then Sir Dinas and his fellowship were put to the worse. With that\ncame Sir Tristram, and slew two knights with one spear. Then he slew on\nthe right hand and on the left hand, that men marvelled that ever he\nmight do such deeds of arms. And then he might see sometime the battle\nwas driven a bow draught from the castle, and sometime it was at the\ngates of the castle. Then came Elias the captain rashing here and\nthere, and hit king Mark so sore upon the helm that he made him to\navoid the saddle; and then Sir Dinas gat king Mark again to horseback.\nTherewithal came in Sir Tristram like a lion, and there he met with\nElias, and he smote him so sore upon the helm that he avoided his\nsaddle. And thus they fought till it was night, and for great\nslaughter, and for wounded people, evereach party drew to their rest.\nAnd when king Mark was come within the castle of Tintagil, he lacked of\nhis knights an hundred; and they without lacked two hundred: and they\nsearched the wounded men on both parties. And then they went to\ncouncil; and wit you well, either party were loth to fight more, so\nthat either might escape with their worship.\nWhen Elias the captain understood the death of his men, he made great\ndole; and when he wist that they were loth to go to battle again he was\nwroth out of measure. Then Elias sent word unto king Mark in great\ndespite, whether he would find a knight that would fight for him, body\nfor body, and if that he might slay king Mark\u2019s knight, he to have the\ntruage of Cornwall yearly: and if that his knight slay mine, I fully\nrelease my claim for ever. Then the messager departed unto king Mark,\nand told him how that his lord Elias had sent him word to find a knight\nto do battle with him, body for body. When king Mark understood the\nmessager he bad him abide, and he should have his answer. Then called\nhe all the baronage together, to wit what was the best counsel. They\nsaid, all at once, To fight in a field we have no lust, for had not\nbeen Sir Tristram\u2019s prowess, it had been likely that we never should\nhave escaped. And therefore, sir, as we deem, it were well done to find\na knight that would do battle with him, for he knightly proffereth.\n_How Sir Elias and Sir Tristram fought together for the truage, and how\n Sir Tristram slew Elias in the field._\nNot for then, when all this was said, they could find no knight that\nwould do battle with him. Sir king, said they all, here is no knight\nthat dare fight with Elias. Alas, said king Mark, then am I utterly\nshamed, and utterly destroyed, unless that my nephew Sir Tristram will\ntake the battle upon him. Wit ye well, they said all, he had yesterday\nover much on hand, and he is weary for travail, and sore wounded. Where\nis he? said king Mark. Sir, said they, he is in his bed to repose him.\nAlas, said king Mark, but I have the succour of my nephew Sir Tristram\nI am utterly destroyed for ever. Therewith one went to Sir Tristram\nwhere he lay, and told him what king Mark had said. And therewith Sir\nTristram arose lightly, and put on him a long gown, and came afore the\nking and all the lords. And when he saw them all so dismayed, he asked\nthe king and the lords what tidings were with them. Never worse, said\nthe king. And therewith he told him all how he had word of Elias to\nfind a knight to fight for the truage of Cornwall, and none can I find;\nand as for you, said the king and all the lords, we may ask no more of\nyou for shame, for through your hardiness yesterday ye saved all our\nlives. Sir, said Sir Tristram, now I understand ye would have my\nsuccour, reason would that I should do all that lieth in my power to\ndo, saving my worship and my life, howbeit I am sore bruised and hurt.\nAnd sithen Sir Elias proffereth so largely, I shall fight with him, or\nelse I will be slain in the field, or else I will deliver Cornwall from\nthe old truage. And therefore lightly call his messager, and he shall\nbe answered: for as yet my wounds be green, and they will be sorer a\nseven night after than they be now, and therefore he shall have his\nanswer, that I will do battle to-morn with him. Then was the messager\ndeparted brought before king Mark. Hark my fellow, said Sir Tristram,\ngo fast unto thy lord, and bid him make true assurance on his part, for\nthe truage, as the king here shall make on his part; and then tell thy\nlord Sir Elias, that I, Sir Tristram, king Arthur\u2019s knight, and knight\nof the Table Round, will as to-morn meet with thy lord on horseback, to\ndo battle as long as my horse may endure, and after that to do battle\nwith him on foot to the utterance. The messager beheld Sir Tristram\nfrom the top to the toe; and therewithal he departed, and came to his\nlord, and told him how he was answered of Sir Tristram. And therewithal\nwas made hostage on both parties, and made it as sure as it might be,\nthat whether party had the victory, so to end. And then were both hosts\nassembled, on both parts of the field without the castle of Tintagil,\nand there was none but Sir Tristram and Sir Elias armed. So when the\nappointment was made, they departed in sunder, and they came together\nwith all the might that their horses might run. And either knight smote\nother so hard that both horses and knights went to the earth. Not for\nthen they both lightly arose, and dressed their shields on their\nshoulders, with naked swords in their hands, and they dashed together\nthat it seemed a flaming fire about them. Thus they traced and\ntraversed, and hewed on helms and hauberks, and cut away many cantels\nof their shields, and either wounded other passing sore, so that the\nhot blood fell freshly upon the earth. And by then they had fought the\nmountenance of an hour Sir Tristram waxed faint and for-bled, and gave\nsore aback. That saw Sir Elias, and followed fiercely upon him, and\nwounded him in many places. And ever Sir Tristram traced and traversed,\nand went froward him here and there, and covered him with his shield as\nhe might all weakly, that all men said he was overcome. For Sir Elias\nhad given him twenty strokes against one. Then was there laughing of\nthe Sessoins\u2019 party, and great dole on king Mark\u2019s party. Alas, said\nthe king, we are ashamed and destroyed all for ever. For, as the book\nsaith, Sir Tristram was never so matched, but if it were Sir Launcelot.\nThus as they stood and beheld both parties, that one party laughing,\nand the other part weeping, Sir Tristram remembered him of his lady, La\nBeale Isoud, that looked upon him, and how he was likely never to come\nin her presence. Then he pulled up his shield, that erst hung full low;\nand then he dressed up his shield unto Elias, and gave him many sad\nstrokes, twenty against one, and all to-brake his shield and his\nhauberk, that the hot blood ran down to the earth. Then began king Mark\nto laugh and all Cornish men, and that other party to weep. And ever\nSir Tristram said to Sir Elias, Yield thee! Then when Sir Tristram saw\nhim so staggering on the ground, he said, Sir Elias, I am right sorry\nfor thee, for thou art a passing good knight as ever I met withal,\nexcept Sir Launcelot. Therewithal Sir Elias fell to the earth, and\nthere died. What shall I do? said Sir Tristram unto king Mark, for this\nbattle is at an end. Then they of Elias\u2019s party departed; and king Mark\ntook of them many prisoners, to redress the harms and the scathes that\nhe had of them, and the remnant he sent into their country to ransom\nout their fellows. Then was Sir Tristram searched and well healed. Yet\nfor all this king Mark would fain have slain Sir Tristram. But for all\nthat ever Sir Tristram saw or heard by king Mark, yet would he never\nbeware of his treason, but ever he would be there as La Beale Isoud was.\n_How at a great feast that king Mark made, an harper came and sang the\n lay that Dinadan had made._\nNow will we pass of this matter, and speak we of the harper that Sir\nLauncelot and Sir Dinadan had sent into Cornwall. And at the great\nfeast that king Mark made for joy that the Sessoins were put out of his\ncountry, then came Eliot the harper, with the lay that Dinadan had\nmade, and secretly brought it unto Sir Tristram, and told him the lay\nthat Dinadan had made by king Mark. And when Sir Tristram heard it, he\nsaid: That Dinadan can make wonderly well and ill, there as it shall\nbe. Sir, said Eliot, dare I sing this song afore king Mark? Yea, on my\nperil, said Sir Tristram, for I shall be thy warrant. Then at the meat\ncame in Eliot the harper, and because he was a curious harper men heard\nhim sing the same lay that Dinadan had made, the which spake the most\nvillainy by king Mark of his treason that ever man heard. When the\nharper had sung his song to the end, king Mark was wonderly wroth, and\nsaid, Thou harper, how durst thou be so bold on thy head to sing this\nsong before me? Sir, said Eliot, wit you well I am a minstrel, and I\nmust do as I am commanded of these lords that I bear the arms of. And,\nsir, wit you well that Sir Dinadan, a knight of the Table Round, made\nthis song, and made me to sing it afore you. Thou sayest well, said\nking Mark, and because thou art a minstrel thou shalt go quit, but I\ncharge thee hie thee fast out of my sight. So the harper departed, and\nwent to Sir Tristram, and told him how he had sped. Then Sir Tristram\nlet make letters, as goodly as he could, to Launcelot, and to Sir\nDinadan. And so he let conduct the harper out of the country. But to\nsay that king Mark was wonderly wroth, he was; for he deemed that the\nlay that was sung afore him was made by Sir Tristram\u2019s counsel,\nwherefore he thought to slay him and all his well-willers in that\ncountry.\n_How king Mark slew by treason his brother Boudwin, for good service\n that he had done to him._\nNow turn we to another matter, that fell between king Mark and his\nbrother that was called the good prince Sir Boudwin, that all the\npeople of the country loved passing well. So it befell upon a time,\nthat the miscreants Saracens landed in the country of Cornwall, soon\nafter these Sessoins were gone. And then the good prince Sir Boudwin,\nat the landing, he raised the country privily and hastily. And or it\nwere day he let put wild-fire in three of his own ships, and suddenly\nhe pulled up the sail, and with the wind he made those ships to be\ndriven among the navy of the Saracens; and to make short tale, those\nthree ships set on fire all the ships, that none were saved. And at the\npoint of the day the good prince Boudwin, with all his fellowship, set\non the miscreants, with shouts and cries, and slew to the number of\nforty thousand, and left none alive. When king Mark wist this, he was\nwonderly wroth that his brother should win such worship. And because\nthis prince was better beloved than he in all that country, and that\nalso Sir Boudwin loved well Sir Tristram, therefore he thought to slay\nhim. And thus hastily as a man out of his wit, he sent for prince\nBoudwin, and Anglides his wife, and bad them bring their young son with\nthem, that he might see him. All this he did to the intent to slay the\nchild as well as his father, for he was the falsest traitor that ever\nwas born. Alas, for his goodness and for his good deeds this gentle\nprince Boudwin was slain. So when he came with his wife Anglides, the\nking made them fair semblant till they had dined. And when they had\ndined, king Mark sent for his brother, and said thus: Brother, how sped\nyou when the miscreants arrived by you? Me seemeth it had been your\npart to have sent me word, that I might have been at that journey, for\nit had been reason that I had had the honour, and not you. Sir, said\nthe prince Boudwin, it was so that and I had tarried till that I had\nsent for you, those miscreants had destroyed my country. Thou liest,\nfalse traitor, said king Mark, for thou art ever about for to win\nworship from me, and put me to dishonour, and thou cherishest that I\nhate. And therewith he struck him to the heart with a dagger, that he\nnever after spake word. Then the lady Anglides made great dole and\nswooned, for she saw her lord slain afore her face. Then was there no\nmore to do, but prince Boudwin was despoiled and brought to burial. But\nAnglides privily got her husband\u2019s doublet and his shirt, and that she\nkept secretly. Then was there much sorrow and crying, and great dole\nmade Sir Tristram, Sir Dinas, Sir Fergus, and so did all the knights\nthat were there, for that prince was passingly well beloved. So La\nBeale Isoud sent unto Anglides, the prince Boudwin\u2019s wife, and bad her\navoid lightly, or else her young son Alisander le Orphelin should be\nslain. When she heard this, she took her horse and her child, and rode\nher way with such poor men as durst ride with her.\n_How Anglides, Boudwin\u2019s wife, escaped with her young son, Alisander le\n Orphelin, and came to the castle of Arundel._\nNotwithstanding, when king Mark had done this deed, yet he thought to\ndo more vengeance; and with his sword in his hand he sought from\nchamber to chamber, to find Anglides and her young son. And when she\nwas missed, he called a good knight that hight Sir Sadok, and charged\nhim, by pain of death, to fetch Anglides again, and her young son. So\nSir Sadok departed, and rode after Anglides. And within ten mile he\novertook her, and bade her turn again, and ride with him to king Mark.\nAlas, fair knight, she said, what shall ye win by my son\u2019s death, or by\nmine? I have had over much harm, and too great a loss. Madam, said\nSadok, of your loss is dole and pity; but, madam, said Sadok, would ye\ndepart out of this country with your son, and keep him till he be of\nage, that he may revenge his father\u2019s death, then would I suffer you to\ndepart from me, so ye promise me for to revenge the death of prince\nBoudwin. Ah, gentle knight, Jesu thank thee, and if ever my son\nAlisander le Orphelin live to be a knight, he shall have his father\u2019s\ndoublet and his shirt with the bloody marks; and I shall give him such\na charge that he shall remember it while he liveth. And therewithal\nSadok departed from her, and either betook other to God. And when Sadok\ncame to king Mark, he told him faithfully that he had drowned young\nAlisander, her son; and thereof king Mark was full glad.\nNow turn we unto Anglides, that rode both night and day by adventure\nout of Cornwall, and little and in few places she rested. But ever she\ndrew southward to the sea side, till by fortune she came to a castle\nthat is called Magouns, and now it is called Arundel in Southsex. And\nthe constable of the castle welcomed her, and said she was welcome to\nher own castle; and there was Anglides worshipfully received, for the\nconstable\u2019s wife was nigh her cousin. And the constable\u2019s name was\nBellangere, and that same constable told Anglides that the same castle\nwas hers by right inheritance. Thus Anglides endured years and winters,\ntill Alisander was big and strong. There was none so wight in all that\ncountry, neither there was none that might do no manner of mastery\nafore him.\n_How Anglides gave the bloody doublet to Alisander her son the same day\n that he was made knight, and the charge withal._\nThen upon a day Bellangere the constable came to Anglides and said,\nMadam, it were time that my lord Alisander were made knight, for he is\na passing strong young man. Sir, said she, I would he were made knight;\nbut then must I give him the most charge that ever sinful mother gave\nto her child. Do as ye list, said Bellangere, and I shall give him\nwarning that he shall be made knight. Now it will be well done that he\nmay be made knight at our Ladyday in Lent. Be it so, said Anglides, and\nI pray you make ready therefore. So came the constable to Alisander,\nand told him that he should at our Ladyday in Lent be made knight. I\nthank God, said Alisander, these are the best tidings that ever came to\nme. Then the constable ordained twenty of the greatest gentlemen\u2019s\nsons, and the best born men of the country, that should be made knights\nthat same day that Alisander was made knight. So on the same day that\nAlisander and his twenty fellows were made knights, at the offering of\nthe mass there came Anglides unto her son, and said thus: O fair sweet\nson, I charge thee upon my blessing, and of the high order of chivalry\nthat thou takest here this day, that thou understand what I shall say\nand charge thee withal. Therewithal she pulled out a bloody doublet and\na bloody shirt, that were be-bled with old blood. When Alisander saw\nthis, he start back and waxed pale, and said, Fair mother, what may\nthis mean? I shall tell thee, fair son; this was thine own father\u2019s\ndoublet and shirt that he ware upon him that same day that he was\nslain. And there she told him why and wherefore: and how for his\ngoodness king Mark slew him with his dagger afore mine own eyes. And\ntherefore this shall be your charge, that I shall give thee. Now I\nrequire thee and charge thee upon my blessing, and upon the high order\nof knighthood, that thou be revenged upon king Mark for the death of\nthy father. And therewithal she swooned. Then Alisander leaped to his\nmother, and took her up in his arms, and said, Fair mother, ye have\ngiven me a great charge, and here I promise you I shall be avenged upon\nking Mark when that I may, and that I promise to God and to you. So\nthis feast was ended. And the constable, by the advice of Anglides, let\npurvey that Sir Alisander was well horsed and harnessed. Then he justed\nwith his twenty fellows that were made knights with him. But, for to\nmake a short tale, he overthrew all those twenty, that none might\nwithstand him a buffet.\n_How it was told to king Mark of Sir Alisander, and how he would have\n slain Sir Sadok for saving of his life._\nThen one of those knights departed unto king Mark, and told him all how\nAlisander was made knight, and all the charge that his mother gave him,\nas ye have heard afore time. Alas, false treason, said king Mark, I\nwend that young traitor had been dead. Alas, whom may I trust? And\ntherewithal king Mark took a sword in his hand, and sought Sir Sadok\nfrom chamber to chamber to slay him. When Sir Sadok saw king Mark come\nwith his sword in his hand, he said thus: Beware, king Mark, and come\nnot nigh me, for wit thou well that I saved Alisander his life, of\nwhich I never repent me, for thou falsely and cowardly slewest his\nfather Boudwin traitorly for his good deeds. Wherefore I pray almighty\nJesu send Alisander might and strength to be revenged upon thee. And\nnow beware king Mark of young Alisander, for he is made a knight. Alas,\nsaid king Mark, that ever I should hear a traitor say so afore me. And\ntherewith four knights of king Mark drew their swords to slay Sir\nSadok. But anon Sir Sadok slew them all in king Mark\u2019s presence. And\nthen Sir Sadok passed forth into his chamber, and took his horse and\nhis harness, and rode on his way a good pace. For there was neither Sir\nTristram, neither Sir Dinas, nor Sir Fergus, that would Sir Sadok any\nevil will. Then was king Mark wroth, and thought to destroy Sir\nAlisander, and Sir Sadok that had saved him, for king Mark dread and\nhated Sir Alisander most of any man living. When Sir Tristram\nunderstood that Alisander was made knight, anon forthwithal he sent him\na letter, praying him and charging him that he would draw him to the\ncourt of king Arthur, and that he put him in the rule and in the hands\nof Sir Launcelot. So this letter was sent to Alisander from his cousin\nSir Tristram. And at that time he thought to do after his commandment.\nThen king Mark called a knight that brought him the tidings from\nAlisander, and bade him abide still in that country. Sir, said that\nknight, so must I do, for in mine own country I dare not come. No\nforce, said king Mark. I shall give thee here double as much lands as\nthou haddest of thine own. But within short space Sir Sadok met with\nthat false knight and slew him. Then was king Mark wood wroth out of\nmeasure. Then he sent unto queen Morgan le Fay and to the queen of\nNorthgalis, praying them in his letters that they two sorceresses would\nset all the country in fire, with ladies that were enchantresses, and\nby such that were dangerous knights, as Malgrin, and Breuse Sance Pit\u00e9;\nthat by no means Alisander le Orphelin should escape, but either he\nshould be taken or slain. This ordinance made king Mark for to destroy\nAlisander.\n_How Sir Alisander wan the prize at a tournament, and of Morgan le Fay.\n And how he fought with Sir Malgrin and slew him._\nNow turn we again unto Sir Alisander, that at his departing from his\nmother took with him his father\u2019s bloody shirt. So that he bare with\nhim always till his death day, in tokening to think on his father\u2019s\ndeath. So was Alisander purposed to ride to London by the counsel of\nSir Tristram to Sir Launcelot. And by fortune he went by the sea-side,\nand rode wrong. And there he won at a tournament the gree, that king\nCarados made. And there he smote down king Carados, and twenty of his\nknights, and also Sir Safere a good knight, that was Sir Palamides\u2019\nbrother, the good knight. All this saw a damsel, and saw the best\nknight just that ever she saw. And ever as he smote down knights he\nmade them to swear to wear no harness in a twelvemonth and a day. This\nis well said, said Morgan le Fay, this is the knight that I would fain\nsee. And so she took her palfrey and rode a great while, and then she\nrested her in her pavilion. So there came four knights: two were armed,\nand two were unarmed, and they told Morgan le Fay their names. The\nfirst was Elias de Gomeret, the second was Car de Gomeret; those were\narmed: that other twain were of Camiliard, cousins unto queen Guenever,\nand that one hight Sir Guy, and that other hight Garaunt; those were\nunarmed. There these four knights told Morgan le Fay how a young knight\nhad smitten them down before a castle. For the maiden of that castle\nsaid that he was but late made knight and young. But as we suppose, but\nif it were Sir Tristram, or Sir Launcelot, or Sir Lamorak the good\nknight, there is none that might sit him a buffet with a spear. Well,\nsaid Morgan le Fay, I shall meet that knight or it be long time, and he\ndwell in that country.\nSo turn we to the damsel of the castle, that when Alisander le Orphelin\nhad forjusted the four knights, she called him to her, and said thus:\nSir knight, wilt thou for my sake just and fight with a knight of this\ncountry, that is and hath been long time an evil neighbour to me, his\nname is Malgrin, and he will not suffer me to be married in no manner\nwise for all that I can do, or any knight for my sake. Damsel, said\nAlisander, and he come while I am here I will fight with him, and my\npoor body for your sake I will jeopard. And therewithal she sent for\nhim, for he was at her commandment. And when either had a sight of\nother they made them ready for to just, and they came together eagerly,\nand Malgrin bruised his spear upon Alisander, and Alisander smote him\nagain so hard that he bare him quite from his saddle to the earth. But\nthis Malgrin arose lightly and dressed his shield and drew his sword,\nand bad him alight, saying, Though thou have the better of me on\nhorseback, shalt thou find that I shall endure like a knight on foot.\nIt is well said, said Alisander. And so lightly he voided his horse,\nand betook him to his varlet. And then they rashed together like two\nboars, and laid on their helms and shields long time by the space of\nthree hours, that never man could say which was the better knight. And\nin the meanwhile came Morgan le Fay to the damsel of the castle, and\nthey beheld the battle. But this Malgrin was an old roted knight, and\nhe was called one of the dangerous knights of the world to do battle on\nfoot: but on horseback there were many better. And ever this Malgrin\nawaited to slay Alisander, and so wounded him wonderly sore, that it\nwas marvel that ever he might stand, for he had bled so much blood: for\nAlisander fought wildly and not wittily. And that other was a felonious\nknight, and awaited him, and smote him sore. And sometime they rashed\ntogether with their shields like two boars or rams, and fell groveling\nboth to the earth. Now knight, said Malgrin, hold thy hand awhile, and\ntell me what thou art. I will not, said Alisander, but if me list. But\ntell me thy name, and why thou keepest this country, or else thou shalt\ndie of my hands. Wit thou well, said Malgrin, that for this maiden\u2019s\nlove of this castle I have slain ten good knights by mishap; and by\noutrage and pride of myself I have slain ten other knights. Truly, said\nAlisander, this is the foulest confession that ever I heard knight\nmake, nor never heard I speak of other men of such a shameful\nconfession; wherefore it were great pity and great shame to me that I\nshould let thee live any longer; therefore keep thee as well as ever\nthou mayest, for as I am true knight, either thou shalt slay me or else\nI shall slay thee, I promise thee faithfully. Then they lashed together\nfiercely. And at the last Alisander smote Malgrin to the earth, and\nthen he raced off his helm, and smote off his head lightly. And when he\nhad done and ended this battle, anon he called to him his varlet, the\nwhich brought him his horse. And then he weening to be strong enough\nwould have mounted. And so she laid Sir Alisander in a horse-litter,\nand led him into the castle, for he had no foot nor might to stand upon\nthe earth. For he had sixteen great wounds, and in especial one of them\nwas like to be his death.\n_How queen Morgan le Fay had Alisander in her castle, and how she\n healed his wounds._\nThen queen Morgan le Fay searched his wounds, and gave such an ointment\nunto him that he should have died. And on the morn when she came to\nhim, he complained him sore; and then she put other ointments upon him,\nand then he was out of his pain. Then came the damsel of the castle,\nand said unto Morgan le Fay, I pray you help me that this knight might\nwed me, for he hath won me with his hands. Ye shall see, said Morgan le\nFay, what I shall say. Then Morgan le Fay went to Sir Alisander and bad\nin any wise that he should refuse this lady\u2014if she desire to wed you,\nfor she is not for you. So the damsel came and desired of him marriage.\nDamsel, said Orphelin, I thank you, but as yet I cast me not to marry\nin this country. Sir, said she, sithen ye will not marry me, I pray\nyou, insomuch as ye have won me, that ye will give me to a knight of\nthis country that hath been my friend and loved me many years. With all\nmy heart, said Alisander, I will assent thereto. Then was the knight\nsent for; his name was Sir Gerine le Grose. And anon he made them\nhandfast and wedded them. Then came queen Morgan le Fay to Alisander,\nand bad him arise, and put him in a horse-litter: and gave him such a\ndrink that in three days and three nights he waked never but slept: and\nso she brought him to her own castle, that at that time was called La\nBeale Regard. Then Morgan le Fay came to Alisander, and asked him if he\nwould fain be whole. Who would be sick, said Alisander, and he might be\nwhole? Well, said Morgan le Fay, then shall ye promise me by your\nknighthood that this day twelvemonth and a day ye shall not pass the\ncompass of this castle, and without doubt ye shall lightly be whole. I\nassent, said Sir Alisander. And there he made her a promise. Then was\nhe soon whole. And when Alisander was whole then he repented him of his\noath, for he might not be revenged upon king Mark. Right so there came\na damsel that was cousin to the Earl of Pase, and she was cousin to\nMorgan le Fay. And by right that castle of La Beale Regard should have\nbeen hers by true inheritance. So this damsel entered into this castle\nwhere lay Alisander, and there she found him upon his bed, passing\nheavy and all sad.\n_How Alisander was delivered from the queen Morgan le Fay by the means\n of a damsel._\nSir knight, said the damsel, and ye would be merry, I could tell you\ngood tidings. Well were me, said Alisander, and I might hear of good\ntidings, for now I stand as a prisoner by my promise. Sir, said she,\nwit you well that ye be a prisoner, and worse than ye ween. For my\nlady, my cousin queen Morgan le Fay, keepeth you here for none other\nintent but for to do her pleasure with you, when it liketh her. Defend\nme, said Alisander, from such pleasure, for I had lever die than I\nwould do her such pleasure. Truly, said the damsel, and ye would love\nme and be ruled by me, I shall make your deliverance with your worship.\nTell me, said Alisander, by what mean, and ye shall have my love. Fair\nknight, said she, this castle of right ought to be mine, and I have an\nuncle the which is a mighty earl, he is earl of Pase, and of all folks\nhe hateth most Morgan le Fay, and I shall send unto him, and pray him\nfor my sake to destroy this castle for the evil customs that be used\ntherein; and then will he come and set wild fire on every part of the\ncastle, and I shall get you out at a privy postern, and there shall ye\nhave your horse and your harness. Ye say well, damsel, said Alisander.\nAnd then she said, Ye may keep the room of this castle this twelvemonth\nand a day, then break ye not your oath. Truly, fair damsel, said\nAlisander, ye say sooth. And then he kissed her. So anon she sent unto\nher uncle, and bad him come and destroy that castle; for as the book\nsaith, he would have destroyed that castle afore time, had not that\ndamsel been. When the earl understood her letters he sent her word\nagain, that on such a day he would come and destroy that castle. So\nwhen that day came, she shewed Alisander a postern where through he\nshould flee into a garden, and there he should find his armour and his\nhorse. When the day came that was set, thither came the earl of Pase\nwith four hundred knights, and set on fire all the parts of the castle,\nthat, or they ceased, they left not a stone standing. And all this\nwhile that the fire was in the castle, he abode in the garden. And when\nthe fire was done, he let make a cry that he would keep that piece of\nearth, there as the castle of La Beale Regard was, a twelvemonth and a\nday, from all manner knights that would come.\nSo it happed there was a duke that hight Ansirus, and he was of the kin\nof Sir Launcelot. And this knight was a great pilgrim, for every third\nyear he would be at Jerusalem. And because he used all his life to go\nin pilgrimage, men called him duke Ansirus the pilgrim. And this duke\nhad a daughter that hight Alice, that was a passing fair woman, and\nbecause of her father she was called Alice La Beale Pilgrim. And anon\nas she heard of this cry, she went unto Arthur\u2019s court, and said openly\nin hearing of many knights, That what knight may overcome that knight\nthat keepeth that piece of earth shall have me and all my lands. When\nthe knights of the Round Table heard her say thus, many were glad, for\nshe was passing fair, and of great rents. Right so she let cry in\ncastles and towns as fast on her side as Sir Alisander did on his side.\nThen she dressed her pavilion straight by the piece of earth that\nAlisander kept. So she was not so soon there but there came a knight of\nArthur\u2019s court, that hight Sagramor le Desirous, and he proffered to\njust with Alisander, and they encountered, and Sagramor le Desirous\nbruised his spear upon Sir Alisander, but Sir Alisander smote him so\nhard that he avoided his saddle. And when La Beale Alice saw him just\nso well, she thought him a passing goodly knight on horseback. And then\nshe lept out of her pavilion and took Sir Alisander by the bridle, and\nthus she said: Fair knight, I require thee of thy knighthood, shew me\nthy visage. I dare well, said Alisander, shew my visage. And then he\nput off his helm; and when she saw his visage she said, Truly, thee I\nmust love and never other. Then shew me your visage, said he.\n_How Alisander met with Alice la Beale Pilgrim, and how he justed with\n two knights; and after of him and of Sir Mordred._\nThen she unwimpled her visage. And when he saw her he said, Here have I\nfound my love and my lady. Truly, fair lady, said he, I promise you to\nbe your knight, and none other that beareth the life. Now, gentle\nknight, said she, tell me your name. My name is, said he, Alisander le\nOrphelin. Now, damsel, tell me your name, said he. My name is, said\nshe, Alice la Beale Pilgrim. And when we be more at our heart\u2019s ease,\nboth ye and I shall tell each other of what blood we be come. So there\nwas great love betwixt them. And as they thus talked, there came a\nknight that hight Harsouse le Berbuse, and asked part of Sir\nAlisander\u2019s spears. Then Sir Alisander encountered with him, and at the\nfirst Sir Alisander smote him over his horse croup. And then there came\nanother knight that hight Sir Hewgon. And Sir Alisander smote him down\nas he did that other. Then Sir Hewgon proffered to do battle on foot.\nSir Alisander overcame him with three strokes, and there would have\nslain him had he not yielded him. So then Alisander made both those\nknights to swear to wear none armour in a twelvemonth and a day. Then\nSir Alisander alight down, and went to rest him and repose him. Then\nthe damsel that halp Sir Alisander out of the castle, in her play told\ndame Alice altogether how he was prisoner of the castle of La Beale\nRegard: and there she told her how she gat him out of prison. Sir, said\nAlice la Beale Pilgrim, me seemeth ye are much beholden to this maiden.\nThat is truth, said Sir Alisander. And there Alice told him of what\nblood she was come. Sir, wit ye well, she said, that I am of the blood\nof king Ban, that was father unto Sir Launcelot. Ye wis, fair lady,\nsaid Alisander, my mother told me that my father was brother unto a\nking, and I am nigh cousin to Sir Tristram. Then this while came there\nthree knights, that one hight Vains, and that other hight Harvis de les\nMarches, and the third hight Perin de la Montaine. And with one spear\nSir Alisander smote them down all three, and gave them such falls that\nthey had no list to fight upon foot. So he made them to swear to wear\nno arms in a twelvemonth. So when they were departed, Sir Alisander\nbeheld his lady Alice on horseback as he stood in her pavilion. And\nthen he was so enamoured upon her, that he wist not whether he were on\nhorseback or on foot. Right so came the false knight Sir Mordred, and\nsaw Sir Alisander was assotted upon his lady: and therewithal he took\nhis horse by the bridle and led him here and there, and had cast to\nhave led him out of that place to have shamed him. When the damsel that\nhalp him out of that castle saw how shamefully he was led, anon she let\narm her, and set a shield upon her shoulder. And therewith she mounted\nupon his horse, and gat a naked sword in her hand, and she thrust unto\nAlisander with all her might, and she gave him such a buffet that he\nthought the fire flew out of his eyes. And when Alisander felt that\nstroke he looked about him, and drew his sword. And when she saw that,\nshe fled, and so did Mordred into the forest, and the damsel fled into\nthe pavilion. So when Sir Alisander understood himself how the false\nknight would have shamed him, had not the damsel been, then was he\nwroth with himself that Sir Mordred was so escaped his hands. But then\nSir Alisander and dame Alice had good game at the damsel, how sadly she\nhit him upon the helm. Then Sir Alisander justed thus day by day, and\non foot he did many battles with many knights of king Arthur\u2019s court,\nand with many knights strangers. Therefore to tell all the battles that\nhe did it were overmuch to rehearse, for every day within that\ntwelvemonth he had ado with one knight or with other, and some day he\nhad ado with three or with four. And there was never knight that put\nhim to the worse. And at the twelvemonth\u2019s end he departed with his\nlady Alice la Beale Pilgrim. And the damsel would never go from him:\nand so they went into their country of Benoye, and lived there in great\njoy.\n_How Sir Galahalt did do cry a justs in Surluse, and queen Guenever\u2019s\n knights should just against all that would come._\nBut as the book saith, king Mark would never stint till he had slain\nhim by treason. And by Alice he gat a child which hight Bellengerus le\nBeuse. And by good fortune he came to the court of king Arthur, and\nproved a passing good knight: and he revenged his father\u2019s death; for\nthe false king Mark slew both Sir Tristram and Alisander falsely and\nfeloniously. And it happed so that Alisander had never grace nor\nfortune to come unto king Arthur\u2019s court. For and he had come to Sir\nLauncelot, all knights said that knew him, he was one of the strongest\nknights that was in Arthur\u2019s days. And great dole was made for him.\nSo let we of him pass, and turn we to another tale. So it befell that\nSir Galahalt the haut prince was lord of the country of Surluse,\nwhereof came many good knights. And this noble prince was a passing\ngood man of arms, and ever he held a noble fellowship together. And\nthen he came to Arthur\u2019s court, and told him his intent, how this was\nhis will, how he would let cry a justs in the country of Surluse, the\nwhich country was within the lands of king Arthur, and there he asked\nleave to let cry a justs. I will give you leave, said king Arthur. But\nwit thou well, said king Arthur, I may not be there. Sir, said queen\nGuenever, please it you to give me leave to be at that justs. With\nright good will, said Arthur, for Sir Galahalt the haut prince shall\nhave you in governance. Sir, said Galahalt, I will as ye will. Sir,\nthen the queen I will take with me, and such knights as please me best.\nDo as ye list, said king Arthur. So anon she commanded Sir Launcelot to\nmake him ready with such knights as he thought best. So in every good\ntown and castle of this land was made a cry, that in the country of\nSurluse Sir Galahalt should make a justs that should last eight days:\nand how the haut prince with the help of queen Guenever\u2019s knights\nshould just against all manner of men that would come. When this cry\nwas known, kings and princes, dukes and earls, barons and noble\nknights, made them ready to be at that justs. And at the day of justing\nthere came in Sir Dinadan disguised, and did many great deeds of arms.\n_How Sir Launcelot fought in the tournament, and how Sir Palamides did\n arms there for a damsel._\nThen at the request of queen Guenever and of king Bagdemagus, Sir\nLauncelot came into the range, but he was disguised, and that was the\ncause that few folk knew him. And there met with him Sir Ector de Maris\nhis own brother, and either brake their spears upon other to their\nhands. And then either gat another spear, and then Sir Launcelot smote\ndown Sir Ector de Maris his own brother. That saw Sir Bleoberis, and he\nsmote Sir Launcelot such a buffet upon the helm that he wist not well\nwhere he was. Then Sir Launcelot was wroth, and smote Sir Bleoberis so\nsore upon the helm that his head bowed down backward. And he smote eft\nanother buffet that he avoided his saddle. And so he rode by and thrust\nforth to the thickest. When the king of Northgalis saw Sir Ector and\nSir Bleoberis lie on the ground, then he was wonderous wroth, for they\ncame on his part against them of Surluse. So the king of Northgalis ran\nto Sir Launcelot, and brake a spear upon him all to pieces. Therewith\nSir Launcelot overtook the king of Northgalis and smote him such a\nbuffet on the helm with his sword that he made him to avoid his horse;\nand anon the king was horsed again. So both the king Bagdemagus and the\nking of Northgalis party hurled together: and then began a strong\nmeddle, but they of Northgalis were far bigger.\nWhen Sir Launcelot saw his party go to the worst, he thronged into the\nthickest press with a sword in his hand, and there he smote down on the\nright hand and on the left hand, and pulled down knights, and rased off\ntheir helms, that all men had wonder that ever one knight might do such\ndeeds of arms. When Sir Meliagant, that was son unto king Bagdemagus,\nsaw how Sir Launcelot fared, he marvelled greatly. And when he\nunderstood that it was he, he wist well that he was disguised for his\nsake. Then Sir Meliagant prayed a knight to slay Sir Launcelot\u2019s horse,\neither with sword or with spear. At that time king Bagdemagus met with\na knight that hight Sauseise, a good knight, to whom he said, Now fair\nSauseise, encounter with my son Meliagant, and give him large payment;\nfor I would he were well beaten of thy hands, that he might depart out\nof the field. And then Sir Sauseise encountered with Sir Meliagant, and\neither smote other down. And then they fought on foot, and there\nSauseise had won Sir Meliagant had not there come rescues. So then the\nhaut prince blew to lodging. And every knight unarmed him and went to\nthe great feast. Then in the meanwhile there came a damsel unto the\nhaut prince, and complained that there was a knight that hight\nGoneries, that withheld her all her lands. Then the knight was there\npresent, and cast his glove to him, or to any that would fight in her\nname. So the damsel took up the glove all heavily for default of a\nchampion. Then there came a varlet to her and said, Damsel, will ye do\nafter me? Full fain, said the damsel. Then go ye unto such a knight\nthat lyeth here beside in an hermitage, and that followeth the questing\nbeast, and pray him to take the battle upon him, and anon I wot well he\nwill grant you.\nSo anon she took her palfrey, and within awhile she found that knight,\nthat was Sir Palamides. And when she required him, he armed him and\nrode with her, and made her to go to the haut prince, and to ask leave\nfor her knight to do battle. I will well, said the haut prince. Then\nthe knights were ready in the field to just on horseback: and either\ngat a spear in their hands, and met so fiercely together that their\nspears all to-shivered. And then they flung out swords, and Sir\nPalamides smote Sir Goneries down to the earth, and then he rased off\nhis helm, and smote off his head. Then they went to supper. And the\ndamsel loved Sir Palamides, but the book saith she was of his kin. So\nthen Sir Palamides disguised him in this manner; in his shield he bear\nthe questing beast, and in all his trappings. And when he was thus\nready, he sent to the haut prince to give him leave to just with other\nknights, but he was adoubted of Sir Launcelot. The haut prince sent him\nword again that he should be welcome, and that Sir Launcelot should not\njust with him. Then Sir Galahalt the haut prince let cry what knight\nsoever he were that smote down Sir Palamides should have his damsel to\nhimself.\n_How Sir Galahalt and Palamides fought together, and of Sir Dinadan and\n Sir Galahalt._\nHere beginneth the second day. Anon as Sir Palamides came into the\nfield, Sir Galahalt the haut prince was at the range end, and met with\nSir Palamides, and he with him, with great spears. And then they came\nso hard together that their spears all to-shivered. But Sir Galahalt\nsmote him so hard that he bare him backward over his horse, but yet he\nlost not his stirrups. Then they drew their swords and lashed together\nmany sad strokes that many worshipful knights left their business to\nbehold them. But at the last Sir Galahalt the haut prince smote a\nstroke of might unto Sir Palamides sore upon the helm, but the helm was\nso hard that the sword might not bite, but slipped and smote off the\nhead of the horse of Sir Palamides. When the haut prince wist, and saw\nthe good knight fall unto the earth, he was ashamed of that stroke. And\ntherewith he alighted down off his own horse, and prayed the good\nknight Sir Palamides to take that horse of his gift, and to forgive him\nthat deed. Sir, said Palamides, I thank you of your great goodness, for\never of a man of worship a knight shall never have disworship. And so\nhe mounted upon that horse, and the haut prince had another anon. Now,\nsaid the haut prince, I release to you that maiden, for ye have won\nher. Ah, said Palamides, the damsel and I be at your commandment. So\nthey departed, and Sir Galahalt did great deeds of arms. And right so\ncame Dinadan and encountered with Sir Galahalt, and either came to\nother so fast with their spears, that their spears brake to their\nhands. But Dinadan had wend the haut prince had been more weary than he\nwas. And then he smote many sad strokes at the haut prince. But when\nDinadan saw he might not get him to the earth, he said, My lord, I pray\nyou leave me and take another. The haut prince knew not Dinadan, and\nleft goodly for his fair words, and so they departed. But soon there\ncame another, and told the haut prince that it was Dinadan. Forsooth,\nsaid the prince, therefore am I heavy that he is so escaped from me:\nfor with his mocks and jests now shall I never have done with him. And\nthen Galahalt rode fast after him, and bad him, Abide, Dinadan, for\nking Arthur\u2019s sake. Nay, said Sir Dinadan, we meet no more together\nthis day. Then in that wrath the haut prince met with Meliagant, and he\nsmote him in the throat, that and he had fallen his neck had broken,\nand with the same spear he smote down another knight. Then came in they\nof Northgalis, and many strangers, and were like to have put them of\nSurluse to the worse, for Sir Galahalt the haut prince had ever much in\nhand. So there came in the good knight Semound the Valiant, with forty\nknights, and he beat them all aback. Then the queen Guenever and Sir\nLauncelot let blow to lodging: and every knight unarmed him, and\ndressed him to the feast.\n_How Sir Archade appealed Sir Palamides of treason, and how Sir\nPalamides slew him._\nWhen Palamides was unarmed, he asked lodging for himself and the\ndamsel. Anon the haut prince commanded them to lodging. And he was not\nso soon in his lodging, but there came a knight that hight Archade; he\nwas brother unto Goneries, that Sir Palamides slew afore in the\ndamsel\u2019s quarrel. And this knight Archade called Sir Palamides traitor,\nand appealed him for the death of his brother. By the leave of the haut\nprince, said Sir Palamides, I shall answer thee. When the haut prince\nunderstood their quarrel, he bad them go to dinner, and as soon as ye\nhave dined, look that either knight be ready in the field. So when they\nhad dined, they were armed both, and took their horses; and the queen,\nand the prince, and Sir Launcelot, were set to behold them. And so they\nlet run their horses, and there Sir Palamides bare Archade on his spear\nover his horse tail. And then Palamides alight, and drew his sword; but\nSir Archade might not arise, and there Sir Palamides rased off his\nhelm, and smote off his head. Then the haut prince and queen Guenever\nwent to supper. Then king Bagdemagus sent away his son Meliagant,\nbecause Sir Launcelot should not meet with him, for he hated Sir\nLauncelot, and that knew he not.\n_Of the third day, and how Sir Palamides justed with Sir Lamorak, and\n other things._\nNow beginneth the third day of justing, and at that day king Bagdemagus\nmade him ready, and there came against him king Marsil, that had in\ngift an island of Sir Galahalt the haut prince; and this island had the\nname Pomitain. Then it befell that king Bagdemagus and king Marsil of\nPomitain met together with spears, and king Marsil had such a buffet\nthat he fell over his horse croup. Then there came in a knight of king\nMarsil, to revenge his lord: and king Bagdemagus smote him down, horse\nand man, to the earth. So there came an earl that hight Arrouse, and\nSir Breuse, and an hundred knights with them of Pomitain, and the king\nof Northgalis was with them; and all these were against them of\nSurluse. And then there began great battle, and many knights were cast\nunder horse feet. And ever king Bagdemagus did best, for he first\nbegan, and ever he held on. Gaheris, Gawaine\u2019s brother, smote ever at\nthe face of king Bagdemagus: and at the last king Bagdemagus hurtled\ndown Gaheris, horse and man. Then, by adventure, Sir Palamides, the\ngood knight, met with Sir Blamor de Ganis, Sir Bleoberis\u2019 brother, and\nthere either smote other with great spears, that both their horses and\nknights fell to the earth. But Sir Blamor had such a fall that he had\nalmost broken his neck; for the blood brast out at nose, mouth, and his\nears; but at the last he recovered well by good surgeons. Then there\ncame in duke Chaleins of Clarance, and in his governance there came a\nknight that hight Elis la Noire; and there encountered with him king\nBagdemagus, and he smote Elis that he made him to avoid his saddle. So\nthe duke Chaleins of Clarance did there great deeds of arms; and of so\nlate as he came in the third day there was no man did so well, except\nking Bagdemagus and Sir Palamides; that the prize was given that day\nunto king Bagdemagus. And then they blew unto lodging, and unarmed\nthem, and went to the feast. Right so there came Sir Dinadan, and\nmocked and jested with king Bagdemagus, that all knights laughed at\nhim; for he was a fine jester, and well loving all good knights. So\nanon as they had dined there came a varlet, bearing four spears on his\nback, and he came to Palamides and said thus: Here is a knight by hath\nsent you the choice of four spears, and requireth you for your lady\u2019s\nsake to take that one half of these spears, and just with him in the\nfield. Tell him, said Palamides, I will not fail him. When Sir Galahalt\nwist of this, he bad Palamides make him ready. So the queen Guenever,\nthe haut prince, and Sir Launcelot, they were set upon scaffolds to\ngive the judgment of these two knights.\nThen Sir Palamides and the strange knight ran so eagerly together that\ntheir spears brake to their hands. Anon withal either of them look a\ngreat spear in his hand and all to-shivered them in pieces. And then\neither took a greater spear. And then the knight smote down Sir\nPalamides, horse and man, to the earth. And as he would have passed\nover him, the strange knight\u2019s horse stumbled, and fell down upon\nPalamides. Then they drew their swords, and lashed together wonderly\nsore a great while. Then the haut prince and Sir Launcelot said they\nsaw never two knights fight better than they did. But ever the strange\nknight doubled his strokes, and put Palamides aback. Therewith the haut\nprince cried, Ho; and then they went to lodging. And when they were\nunarmed they knew it was the noble knight Sir Lamorak. When Sir\nLauncelot knew that it was Sir Lamorak he made much of him; for above\nall earthly men he loved him best except Sir Tristram. Then queen\nGuenever commended him, and so did all other good knights make much of\nhim, except Sir Gawaine\u2019s brethren. Then queen Guenever said unto Sir\nLauncelot, Sir, I require you that and ye just any more, that ye just\nwith none of the blood of my lord Arthur. So he promised he would not\nas at that time.\n_Of the fourth day, and of many great feats of arms._\nHere beginneth the fourth day. Then came into the field the king with\nthe hundred knights, and all they of Northgalis, and the duke Chaleins\nof Clarance, and king Marsil of Pomitain. And there came Safere,\nPalamides\u2019 brother, and there he told him tidings of his mother, and\nhow he appealed an earl before king Arthur:\u2014For he made war upon our\nfather and mother, and there I slew him in plain battle. So they went\ninto the field, and the damsel with them; and there came to encounter\nagainst them Sir Bleoberis de Ganis, and Sir Ector de Maris. Sir\nPalamides encountered with Sir Bleoberis, and either smote other down;\nand in the same wise did Sir Safere and Sir Ector, and those two\ncouples did battle on foot. Then came in Sir Lamorak, and he\nencountered with the king with the hundred knights, and smote him quite\nover his horse tail; and in the same wise he served the king of\nNorthgalis, and also he smote down king Marsil. And so, or ever he\nstint, he smote down with his spear and with his sword thirty knights.\nWhen duke Chaleins saw Lamorak do so great prowess, he would not meddle\nwith him for shame; and then he charged all his knights in pain of\ndeath that none of you touch him, for it were shame to all good knights\nand that knight were shamed. Then the two kings gathered them together,\nand all they set upon Sir Lamorak, and he failed them not, but rashed\nhere and there, smiting on the right hand and on the left, and rased\noff many helms, so that the haut prince and queen Guenever said they\nsaw never knight do such deeds of arms on horseback. Alas, said\nLauncelot to king Bagdemagus, I will arm me and help Sir Lamorak. And I\nwill ride with you, said king Bagdemagus. And when they two were\nhorsed, they came to Sir Lamorak, that stood among thirty knights, and\nwell was him that might reach him a buffet: and ever he smote again\nmightily. Then came there into the press Sir Launcelot, and he threw\ndown Sir Mador de la Porte, and with the truncheon of that spear he\nthrew down many knights. And king Bagdemagus smote on the left hand and\non the right hand marvellously well. And then the three kings fled\naback. Therewithal then Sir Galahalt let blow to lodging, and all the\nheralds gave Sir Lamorak the prize. And all this while fought\nPalamides, Sir Bleoberis, Sir Safere, Sir Ector, on foot. Never were\nthere four knights evener matched. And then they were parted, and had\nunto their lodging, and unarmed them, and so they went to the great\nfeast.\nBut when Sir Lamorak was come unto the court, queen Guenever took him\nin her arms, and said, Sir, well have ye done this day. Then came the\nhaut prince, and he made of him great joy, and so did Dinadan, for he\nwept for joy. But the joy that Sir Launcelot made of Sir Lamorak there\nmight no man tell. Then they went unto rest; and on the morn the haut\nprince let blow unto the field.\n_Of the fifth day, and how Sir Lamorak behaved him._\nHere beginneth the fifth day. So it befell that Sir Palamides came in\nthe morn-tide and proffered to just there as king Arthur was, in a\ncastle there beside Surluse; and there encountered with him a\nworshipful duke, and there Sir Palamides smote him over his horse\ncroup. And this duke was uncle unto king Arthur. Then Sir Elise\u2019s son\nrode unto Palamides, and Palamides served Elise in the same wise. When\nSir Uwaine saw this, he was wroth. Then he took his horse, and\nencountered with Sir Palamides, and Palamides smote him so hard that he\nwent to the earth, horse and man. And for to make a short tale, he\nsmote down three brethren of Sir Gawaine\u2019s, that is for to say,\nMordred, Gaheris, and Agravaine. Truly, said Arthur, this is a great\ndespite of a Saracen, that he shall smite down my blood. And\ntherewithal king Arthur was wood wroth, and thought to have made him\nready to just. That espied Sir Lamorak, that Arthur and his blood were\ndiscomfited. And anon he was ready, and asked Palamides if he would any\nmore just. Why should I not? said Palamides. Then they hurtled\ntogether, and brake their spears and all to-shivered them, that all the\ncastle rang of their dints. Then either gat a greater spear in his\nhand, and they came so fiercely together; but Sir Palamides\u2019 spear all\nto-brast, and Sir Lamorak\u2019s did hold. Therewithal Sir Palamides lost\nhis stirrups and lay upright on his horse\u2019s back. And then Sir\nPalamides returned again, and took his damsel, and Sir Safere returned\nhis way. So when he was departed, king Arthur came to Sir Lamorak, and\nthanked him of his goodness, and prayed him to tell him his name. Sir,\nsaid Lamorak, wit you well, I owe you my service: but as at this time I\nwill not abide here, for I see of mine enemies many about me. Alas,\nsaid Arthur, now wot I well it is Sir Lamorak de Galis. O, Lamorak,\nabide with me, and by my crown I shall never fail thee: and not so\nhardy in Gawaine\u2019s head, nor none of his brethren, to do thee any\nwrong. Sir, said Sir Lamorak, wrong have they done me and to you both.\nThat is truth, said king Arthur, for they slew their own mother and my\nsister, which me sore grieveth. It had been much fairer and better that\nye had wedded her, for ye are a king\u2019s son as well as they. Truly, said\nthe noble knight Sir Lamorak unto Arthur, her death shall I never\nforget; I promise you and make mine avow I shall avenge her death as\nsoon as I see time convenient. And if it were not at the reverence of\nyour highness I should now have been revenged upon Sir Gawaine and his\nbrethren. Truly, said Arthur, I will make you at accord. Sir, said\nLamorak, as at this time I may not abide with you, for I must to the\njusts, where is Sir Launcelot and the haut prince Sir Galahalt.\nThen there was a damsel that was daughter to king Bandes; and there was\na Saracen knight that hight Corsabrin, and he loved the damsel, and in\nno wise he would suffer her to be married. For ever this Sir Corsabrin\ndefamed her, and named her that she was out of her mind; and thus he\nlet her that she might not be married.\n_How Sir Palamides fought with Corsabrin for a lady, and how Palamides\n slew Corsabrin._\nSo by fortune this damsel heard tell that Palamides did much for\ndamsels\u2019 sakes; so she sent to him a pensel, and prayed him to fight\nwith Sir Corsabrin for her love, and he should have her, and her lands\nof her father\u2019s that should fall to her. Then the damsel sent unto\nCorsabrin, and bad him go unto Sir Palamides, that was a Paynim as well\nas he: and she gave him warning that she had sent him her pensel; and\nif he might overcome Palamides she would wed him. When Corsabrin wist\nof her deeds, then was he wood wroth and angry, and rode unto Surluse,\nwhere the haut prince was, and there he found Sir Palamides ready, the\nwhich had the pensel. So there they waged battle either with other\nafore Galahalt. Well, said the haut prince, this day must noble knights\njust, and at after dinner we shall see how ye can speed. Then they blew\nto justs. And in came Dinadan, and met with Sir Gerin, a good knight,\nand he threw him down over his horse croup: and Sir Dinadan overthrew\nfour knights more; and there he did great deeds of arms. For he was a\ngood knight, but he was a scoffer, and a jester, and the merriest\nknight among fellowship that was that time living. And he had such a\ncustom that he loved every good knight, and every good knight loved him\nagain. So then when the haut prince saw Dinadan do so well, he sent\nunto Sir Launcelot, and bade him strike down Sir Dinadan:\u2014And when\nthat ye have done so, bring him afore me and the noble queen Guenever.\nThen Sir Launcelot did as he was required. Then Sir Lamorak and he\nsmote down many knights, and rased off helms, and drove all the knights\nafore them. And so Sir Launcelot smote down Sir Dinadan, and made his\nmen to unarm him, and so brought him to the queen and the haut prince,\nand then laughed at Sir Dinadan so sore that they might not stand.\nWell, said Sir Dinadan, yet have I no shame, for the old shrew Sir\nLauncelot smote me down. So they went to dinner, and all the court had\ngood sport at Dinadan. Then when the dinner was done, they blew to the\nfield, to behold Sir Palamides and Corsabrin. Sir Palamides pight his\npensel in the midst of the field, and then they hurtled together with\ntheir spears as it were thunder, and either smote other to the earth.\nAnd then they pulled their swords, and dressed their shields, and\nlashed together mightily as mighty knights, that well nigh there was no\npiece of harness would hold them. For this Corsabrin was a passing\nfelonious knight. Corsabrin, said Palamides, wilt thou release me\nyonder damsel, and the pensel? Then was Corsabrin wroth out of measure,\nand gave Palamides such a buffet that he kneeled on his knee. Then\nPalamides arose lightly, and smote him upon the helm that he fell down\nright to the earth. And therewith he rased off his helm, and said,\nCorsabrin, yield thee, or else thou shalt die of my hands. Fie on thee,\nsaid Corsabrin, do thy worst. Then he smote off his head. And\ntherewithal came a stench of his body when the soul departed, so that\nthere might no body abide the savour. So was the corpse had away and\nburied in a wood, because he was a Paynim.\nThen they blew unto lodging, and Palamides was unarmed. Then he went\nunto queen Guenever, to the haut prince, and to Sir Launcelot. Sir,\nsaid the haut prince, here have ye seen this day a great miracle by\nCorsabrin, what savour there was when the soul departed from the body.\nTherefore, Sir, we will require you to take the baptism upon you; and I\npromise you, all knights will set the more by you, and say more worship\nby you. Sir, said Palamides, I will that ye all know that into this\nland I came to be christened, and in my heart I am christened, and\nchristened will I be. But I have made such an avow, that I may not be\nchristened till I have done seven true battles for Jesus\u2019 sake. And\nthen will I be christened. And I trust God will take mine intent, for I\nmean truly. Then Sir Palamides prayed queen Guenever and the haut\nprince to sup with him. And so they did both, Sir Launcelot, and Sir\nLamorak, and many other good knights. So on the morn they heard their\nmass, and blew the field; and then knights made them ready.\n_Of the sixth day, and what then was done._\nHere beginneth the sixth day. Then came there in Sir Gaheris, and there\nencountered with him Sir Ossaise of Surluse, and Sir Gaheris smote him\nover his horse croup. And then either party encountered with other, and\nthere was many spears broken, and many knights cast under feet. So\nthere came Sir Dornard and Sir Aglovale, that were brethren unto Sir\nLamorak, and they met with other two knights, and either smote other so\nhard that all four knights and horses fell to the earth. When Sir\nLamorak saw his two brethren down he was wroth out of measure. And then\nhe gat a great spear in his hand, and therewithal he smote down four\ngood knights, and then his spear brake. Then he pulled out his sword,\nand smote about him on the right hand and on the left hand, and rased\noff helms and pulled down knights, that all men marvelled of such deeds\nof arms as he did, for he fared so that many knights fled. Then he\nhorsed his brethren again, and said, Brethren, ye ought to be ashamed\nto fall so off your horses; what is a knight but when he is on\nhorseback? I set not by a knight when he is on foot, for all battles on\nfoot are but pelowres battles. For there should no knight fight on\nfoot, but if it were for treason, or else he were driven thereto by\nforce: therefore, brethren, sit fast upon your horses, or else fight\nnever more afore me. With that came in duke Chaleins of Clarance; and\nthere encountered with him the earl Ulbawes of Surluse, and either of\nthem smote other down. Then the knights of both parties horsed their\nlords again; for Sir Ector and Bleoberis were on foot, waiting on the\nduke Chaleins; and the king with the hundred knights was with the earl\nof Ulbawes. With that came Gaheris, and lashed to the king with the\nhundred knights, and he to him again. Then came the duke Chaleins and\ndeparted them. Then they blew to lodging, and the knights unarmed them,\nand drew them to their dinner; and at the midst of their dinner in came\nDinadan, and began to rail. Then he beheld the haut prince, that seemed\nwroth with some fault that he saw. For he had a custom he loved no\nfish; and because he was served with fish, the which he hated,\ntherefore he was not merry. When Sir Dinadan had espied the haut\nprince, he espied where was a fish with a great head, and that he gat\nbetwixt two dishes, and served the haut prince with that fish. And then\nhe said thus: Sir Galahalt, well may I liken you to a wolf, for he will\nnever eat fish, but flesh. Then the haut prince laughed at his words.\nWell, well, said Dinadan to Launcelot, what do ye in this country; for\nhere may no mean knights win no worship for thee? Sir Dinadan, said\nLauncelot, I ensure thee that I shall no more meet with thee, nor with\nthy great spear, for I may not sit in my saddle when that spear hitteth\nme. And if I be happy, I shall beware of that boisterous body that thou\nbearest. Well, said Launcelot, make good watch ever. God forbid that\never we meet, but if it be at a dish of meat. Then laughed the queen\nand the haut prince, that they might not sit at their table. Thus they\nmade great joy till on the morn. And then they heard mass, and blew to\nfield. And queen Guenever and all the estates were set, and judges\narmed clean with their shields to keep the right.\n_Of the seventh battle, and how Sir Launcelot, being disguised like a\n maid, smote down Sir Dinadan._\nNow beginneth the seventh battle. There came in the duke Cambines, and\nthere encountered with him Sir Aristance, that was counted a good\nknight, and they met so hard that either bare other down, horse and\nman. Then came there the earl of Lambaile, and helped the duke again to\nhorse. Then came there Sir Ossaise of Surluse, and he smote the earl\nLambaile down from his horse. Then began they to do great deeds of\narms, and many spears were broken, and many knights were cast to the\nearth. Then the king of Northgalis and the earl Ulbawes smote together,\nthat all the judges thought it was like mortal death. This mean while\nqueen Guenever and the haut prince and Sir Launcelot made there Sir\nDinadan make him ready to just. I would, said Sir Dinadan, ride into\nthe field, but then one of you twain will meet with me. Perdy, said the\nhaut prince, ye may see how we sit here as judges with our shields, and\nalways mayest thou behold whether we sit here or not. So Sir Dinadan\ndeparted, and took his horse, and met with many knights, and did\npassing well. And as he was departed, Sir Launcelot disguised himself,\nand put upon his armour a maiden\u2019s garment freshly attired. Then Sir\nLauncelot made Sir Galihodin to lead him through the range, and all men\nhad wonder what damsel it was. And so as Sir Dinadan came into the\nrange, Sir Launcelot, that was in the damsel\u2019s array, gat Galihodin\u2019s\nspear, and ran unto Sir Dinadan. And always Sir Dinadan looked up there\nas Sir Launcelot was, and then he saw one sit in the stead of Sir\nLauncelot, armed. But when Dinadan saw a manner of a damsel, he dread\nperils that it was Sir Launcelot disguised. But Sir Launcelot came on\nhim so fast that he smote him over his horse croup. And then with great\nscorns they gat Sir Dinadan into the forest there beside, and there\nthey despoiled him unto his shirt, and put upon him a woman\u2019s garment,\nand so brought him into the field, and so they blew unto lodging. And\nevery knight went and unarmed him. Then was Sir Dinadan brought in\namong them all. And when queen Guenever saw Sir Dinadan brought so\namong them all, then she laughed that she fell down, and so did all\nthat were there. Well, said Dinadan to Launcelot, thou art so false\nthat I can never beware of thee. Then, by all the assent, they gave Sir\nLauncelot the prize: the next was Sir Lamorak de Galis; the third was\nSir Palamides; the fourth was king Bagdemagus. So these four knights\nhad the prize. And there was great joy and great nobley in all the\ncourt. And on the morn queen Guenever and Sir Launcelot departed unto\nking Arthur; but in no wise Sir Lamorak would not go with them. I shall\nundertake, said Sir Launcelot, that, and ye will go with us king Arthur\nshall charge Sir Gawaine and his brethren never to do you hurt. As for\nthat, said Sir Lamorak, I will not trust Sir Gawaine, nor none of his\nbrethren; and wit ye well Sir Launcelot, and it were not for my lord\nking Arthur\u2019s sake, I should match Sir Gawaine and his brethren well\nenough. But to say that I should trust them, that shall I never. And\ntherefore I pray you recommend me unto my lord Arthur, and unto all my\nlords of the Round Table. And in what place that ever I come I shall do\nyou service to my power: and, sir, it is but late that I revenged that\nwhen my lord Arthur\u2019s kin were put to the worse by Sir Palamides. Then\nSir Lamorak departed from Sir Launcelot, and either wept at their\ndeparting.\n_How by treason Sir Tristram was brought to a tournament for to have\n been slain, and how he was put in prison._\nNow turn we from this matter, and speak we of Sir Tristram, of whom\nthis book is principally of; and leave we the king and the queen, Sir\nLauncelot, and Sir Lamorak. And here beginneth the treason of king Mark\nthat he ordained against Sir Tristram. There was cried by the coasts of\nCornwall a great tournament and justs. And all was done by Sir Galahalt\nthe haut prince, and king Bagdemagus, to the intent to slay Sir\nLauncelot, or else utterly destroy him and shame him, because Sir\nLauncelot had always the higher degree: therefore this prince and this\nking made this justs against Sir Launcelot. And thus their counsel was\ndiscovered unto king Mark, whereof he was full glad. Then king Mark\nbethought him that he would have Sir Tristram unto that tournament\ndisguised that no man should know him, to that intent that the haut\nprince should ween that Sir Tristram were Sir Launcelot. So at these\njusts came in Sir Tristram. And at that time Sir Launcelot was not\nthere, but when they saw a knight disguised do such deeds of arms, they\nwend it had been Sir Launcelot. And in especial king Mark said it was\nSir Launcelot plainly. Then they set upon him, both king Bagdemagus and\nthe haut prince, and their knights, that it was wonder that ever Sir\nTristram might endure that pain. Notwithstanding for all the pain that\nhe had, Sir Tristram wan the degree at that tournament, and there he\nhurt many knights, and bruised them, and they hurt him, and bruised him\nwonderly sore. So when the justs were all done they knew well that it\nwas Sir Tristram de Liones. And all that were on king Mark\u2019s party were\nglad that Sir Tristram was hurt, and the remnant were sorry of his\nhurt; for Sir Tristram was not so behated as was Sir Launcelot within\nthe realm of England. Then came king Mark unto Sir Tristram, and said,\nFair nephew, I am sorry of your hurts. Gramercy, my lord, said Sir\nTristram. Then king Mark made Sir Tristram for to be put in a horse\nbier, in great sign of love, and said, Fair cousin, I shall be your\nleech myself. And so he rode forth with Sir Tristram, and brought him\nto a castle by daylight. And then king Mark made Sir Tristram to eat,\nand then after he gave him a drink, the which as soon as he had drunk\nhe fell on sleep; and when it was night he made him to be carried to\nanother castle, and there he put him in a strong prison, and there he\nordained a man and a woman to give him his meat and drink. So there he\nwas a great while. Then was Sir Tristram missed, and no creature wist\nwhere he was become. When La Beale Isoud heard how he was missed,\nprivily she went unto Sir Sadok, and prayed him to espy where was Sir\nTristram. Then when Sadok wist how Sir Tristram was missed, and anon\nespied that he was put in prison by king Mark and the traitors of\nMagons, then Sadok and two of his cousins laid them in an ambushment,\nfast by the castle of Tintagil, in arms. And as by fortune there came\nriding king Mark and four of his nephews, and a certain of the traitors\nof Magons. When Sir Sadok espied them he brake out of the bushment, and\nset there upon them. And when king Mark espied Sir Sadok he fled as\nfast as he might. And there Sir Sadok slew all the four nephews unto\nking Mark. But these traitors of Magons slew one of Sadok\u2019s cousins,\nwith a great wound in the neck, but Sadok smote the other to death.\nThen Sir Sadok rode upon his way unto a castle that was called Liones,\nand there he espied of the treason and felony of king Mark. So they of\nthat castle rode with Sir Sadok till that they came to a castle that\nhight Arbray. And there in the town they found Sir Dinas the seneschal,\nthat was a good knight. But when Sir Sadok had told Sir Dinas of all\nthe treason of king Mark, he defied such a king, and said he would give\nup his lands that he held of him. And when he said these words all\nmanner knights said as Sir Dinas said. Then by his advice, and of Sir\nSadok\u2019s, he let stuff all the towns and castles within the country of\nLiones, and assembled all the people that they might make.\n_How king Mark let do counterfeit letters from the Pope, and how Sir\n Percivale delivered Sir Tristram out of prison._\nNow turn we unto king Mark, that when he was escaped from Sir Sadok he\nrode unto the castle of Tintagil, and there he made great cry and\nnoise, and cried unto harness all that might bear arms. Then they\nsought and found where were dead four cousins of king Mark\u2019s, and the\ntraitors of Magons. Then the king let inter them in a chapel. Then the\nking let cry in all the country that held of him, to go unto arms, for\nhe understood to the war he must needs. When king Mark heard and\nunderstood how Sir Sadok and Sir Dinas were risen in the country of\nLiones, he remembered of wiles and treason. Lo, thus he did: he let\nmake and counterfeit letters from the Pope, and did make a strange\nclerk to bear them unto king Mark. The which letters specified, that\nking Mark should make him ready, upon pain of cursing, with his host to\ncome to the Pope, to help to go to Jerusalem, for to make war upon the\nSaracens. When this clerk was come by the mean of the king, anon withal\nking Mark sent these letters unto Sir Tristram, and bad him say thus;\nThat and he would go war upon the miscreants, he should be had out of\nprison, and to have all his power. When Sir Tristram understood this\nletter, then he said thus to the clerk: Ah, king Mark, ever hast thou\nbeen a traitor, and ever wilt be: but clerk, said Sir Tristram, say\nthou thus unto king Mark. Since the apostle Pope hath sent for him, bid\nhim go thither himself, for tell him, traitor king as he is, I will not\ngo at his command, get I out of my prison as I may. For I see I am well\nrewarded for my true service. Then the clerk returned unto king Mark,\nand told him of the answer of Sir Tristram. Well, said king Mark, yet\nshall he be beguiled. So he went into his chamber, and counterfeited\nletters, and the letters specified that the Pope desired Sir Tristram\nto come himself to make war upon the miscreants. When the clerk was\ncome again unto Sir Tristram and took him these letters, then Sir\nTristram beheld these letters, and anon espied they were of king Mark\u2019s\ncounterfeiting. Ah, said Sir Tristram, false hast thou been ever, king\nMark, and so wilt thou end. Then the clerk departed from Sir Tristram,\nand came to king Mark again. By then there were come four wounded\nknights within the castle of Tintagil, and one of them his neck was\nnigh broken in twain, another had his arm stricken away, the third was\nborne through with a spear, the fourth had his teeth stricken in twain.\nAnd when they came afore king Mark they cried and said, King, why\nfleest thou not, for all this country is arisen clearly against thee.\nThen was king Mark wroth out of measure. And in the mean while there\ncame into the country Sir Percivale de Galis, to seek Sir Tristram. And\nwhen he heard that Sir Tristram was in prison, Sir Percivale made\nclearly the deliverance of Sir Tristram by his knightly means. And when\nhe was so delivered he made great joy of Sir Percivale, and so each one\nof other. Sir Tristram said unto Sir Percivale, And ye will abide in\nthese marches, I will ride with you. Nay, said Percivale, in this\ncountry may I not tarry, for I must needs into Wales. So Sir Percivale\ndeparted from Sir Tristram, and rode straight unto king Mark, and told\nhim how he had delivered Sir Tristram. And also he told the king that\nhe had done himself great shame for to put Sir Tristram in prison, for\nhe is now the knight of most renown in all this world living. And wit\nthou well the most noble knights of the world love Sir Tristram, and if\nhe will make war upon you ye may not abide it. That is truth, said king\nMark, but I may not love Sir Tristram because he loveth my queen and my\nwife, La Beale Isoud. Ah fie for shame, said Sir Percivale, say ye\nnever so more. Are ye not uncle unto Sir Tristram, and he your nephew?\nYe should never think that so noble a knight as Sir Tristram is, that\nhe would do himself so great a villany to hold his uncle\u2019s wife,\nhowbeit, said Sir Percivale, he may love your queen sinless, because\nshe is called one of the fairest ladies of the world. Then Sir\nPercivale departed from king Mark. So when he was departed king Mark\nbethought him of more treason, notwithstanding king Mark granted Sir\nPercivale never by no manner of means to hurt Sir Tristram. So anon\nking Mark sent unto Sir Dinas the seneschal, that he should put down\nall the people that he had raised, for he sent him an oath that he\nwould go himself unto the Pope of Rome to war upon the miscreants, and\nthis is a fairer war than thus to raise the people against your king.\nWhen Sir Dinas the seneschal understood that king Mark would go upon\nthe miscreants, then Sir Dinas in all the haste put down all the\npeople; and when the people were departed every man to his home, then\nking Mark espied where was Sir Tristram with La Beale Isoud. And there\nby treason king Mark let take him and put him in prison, contrary to\nhis promise that he made unto Sir Percivale. When queen Isoud\nunderstood that Sir Tristram was in prison she made as great sorrow as\never made lady or gentlewoman. Then Sir Tristram sent a letter unto La\nBeale Isoud, and prayed her to be his good lady; and if it pleased her\nto make a vessel ready for her and him, he would go with her unto the\nrealm of Logris, that is this land. When La Beale Isoud understood Sir\nTristram\u2019s letters and his intent, she sent him another, and bad him be\nof good comfort, for she would do make the vessel ready, and all things\nto purpose. Then La Beale Isoud sent unto Sir Dinas, and to Sadok, and\nprayed them in any wise to take king Mark and put him in prison, unto\nthe time that she and Sir Tristram were departed unto the realm of\nLogris. When Sir Dinas the seneschal understood the treason of king\nMark, he promised her again, and sent to her word that king Mark should\nbe put in prison. And as they devised it so it was done. And then Sir\nTristram was delivered out of prison, and anon in all the haste queen\nIsoud and Sir Tristram went and took their counsel with that they would\nhave with them when they departed.\n_How Sir Tristram and La Beale Isoud came into England, and how Sir\n Launcelot brought them to Joyous Gard._\nThen La Beale Isoud and Sir Tristram took their vessel, and came by\nwater into this land. And so they were not in this land four days but\nthere came a cry of a justs and tournament that king Arthur let make.\nWhen Sir Tristram heard tell of that tournament, he disguised himself\nand La Beale Isoud, and rode unto that tournament. And when he came\nthere he saw many knights just and tourney, and so Sir Tristram dressed\nhim to the range. And to make short conclusion, he overthrew fourteen\nknights of the Round Table. When Sir Launcelot saw these knights thus\noverthrown Sir Launcelot dressed him to Sir Tristram. That saw La Beale\nIsoud, how Sir Launcelot was come into the field. Then La Beale Isoud\nsent unto Sir Launcelot a ring, and bad him wit that it was Sir\nTristram de Liones. When Sir Launcelot understood that there was Sir\nTristram, he was full glad, and would not just. Then Sir Launcelot\nespied whither Sir Tristram went, and after him he rode, and then\neither made of other great joy. And so Sir Launcelot brought Sir\nTristram and La Beale Isoud unto Joyous Gard, that was his own castle\nthat he had won with his own hands. And there Sir Launcelot put them in\nto weld for their own. And wit ye well that castle was garnished and\nfurnished for a king and a queen royal there to have sojourned. And Sir\nLauncelot charged all his people to honour them and love them as they\nwould do himself.\nSo Sir Launcelot departed unto king Arthur; and then he told queen\nGuenever how he that justed so well at the last tournament was Sir\nTristram. And there he told her how he had with him La Beale Isoud,\nmaugre king Mark; and so queen Guenever told all this unto king Arthur.\nWhen king Arthur wist that Sir Tristram was escaped, and come from king\nMark, and had brought La Beale Isoud with him, then was he passing\nglad. So because of Sir Tristram king Arthur let make a cry, that on\nMay-day should be a justs, before the castle of Lonazep; and that\ncastle was fast by Joyous Gard. And thus king Arthur devised, that all\nthe knights of this land, and of Cornwall, and of North Wales, should\njust against all these countries,\u2014Ireland, Scotland, and the remnant\nof Wales, and the country of Gore, and Surluse, and of Listinoise, and\nthey of Northumberland, and all they that held lands of king Arthur on\nthis half the sea. When this cry was made, many knights were glad and\nmany were unglad. Sir, said Launcelot unto Arthur, by this cry that ye\nhave made, ye will put us that be about you in great jeopardy, for\nthere be many knights that have great envy to us, therefore when we\nshall meet at the day of justs, there will be hard shift among us. As\nfor that, said Arthur, I care not, there shall we prove who shall be\nthe best of his hands. So when Sir Launcelot understood wherefore king\nArthur made this justing, then he made such purveyance that La Beale\nIsoud should behold the justs in a secret place that was honest for her\nestate.\nNow turn we unto Sir Tristram and La Beale Isoud, how they made great\njoy daily together with all manner of mirths that they could devise;\nand every day Sir Tristram would go ride on hunting, for Sir Tristram\nwas that time called the best chaser of the world, and the noblest\nblower of an horn of all manner of measures. For, as books report, of\nSir Tristram came all the good terms of venery and hunting, and all the\nsizes and measures of blowing of an horn; and of him we had first all\nthe terms of hawking, and which were beasts of chase, and beasts of\nvenery, and which were vermins; and all the blasts that belong to all\nmanner of games. First to the uncoupling, to the seeking, to the\nrechate, to the flight, to the death, and to strake; and many other\nblasts and terms, that all manner of gentlemen have cause to the\nworld\u2019s end to praise Sir Tristram and to pray for his soul.\n_How by the counsel of La Beale Isoud Sir Tristram rode armed, and how\n he met with Sir Palamides._\nSo on a day La Beale Isoud said unto Sir Tristram, I marvel me much,\nsaid she, that ye remember not yourself, how that ye be here in a\nstrange country, and here be many perilous knights, and well ye wote\nthat king Mark is full of treason, and that ye will ride thus to chase\nand hunt unarmed; ye might be destroyed. My fair lady and my love, I\ncry you mercy, I will no more do so. So then Sir Tristram rode daily on\nhunting armed, and his men bearing his shield and his spear. So on a\nday, a little afore the month of May, Sir Tristram chased an hart\npassing eagerly, and so the hart passed by a fair well. And then Sir\nTristram alighted, and put off his helm to drink of that burbley water.\nRight so he heard and saw the questing beast come to the well. When Sir\nTristram saw that beast, he put on his helm, for he deemed he should\nhear of Sir Palamides, for that beast was his quest. Right so Tristram\nsaw where came a knight armed, upon a noble courser, and he saluted\nhim, and they spake of many things; and this knight\u2019s name was Breuse\nSance Pit\u00e9. And right so withal there came unto them the noble knight\nSir Palamides, and either saluted other, and spake fair to other. Fair\nknights, said Sir Breuse Sance Pit\u00e9, I can tell you tidings. What is\nthat? said those knights. Sirs, wit ye well that king Mark is put in\nprison by his own knights, and all was for love of Sir Tristram: for\nking Mark had put Sir Tristram twice in prison; and once Sir Percivale\ndelivered the noble knight Sir Tristram out of prison; and at the last\ntime queen La Beale Isoud delivered him, and went clearly away with him\ninto this realm: and all this while king Mark the false traitor is in\nprison. Is this truth? said Sir Palamides; then shall we hastily hear\nof Sir Tristram. And as for to say that I love La Beale Isoud, I dare\nmake good that I do, and that she hath my service above all other\nladies, and shall have the term of my life. And right so as they stood\ntalking they saw afore them where came a knight, all armed on a great\nhorse, and one of his men bare his shield, and the other his spears.\nAnd anon as that knight espied them, he gat his shield and his spear,\nand dressed him to just. Fair fellows, said Sir Tristram, yonder is a\nknight will just with us; let see which of us shall encounter with him,\nfor I see well he is of the court of king Arthur. It shall not be long\nor he be met withal, said Sir Palamides, for I found never no knight in\nmy quest of this glasting beast but, and he would just, I never refused\nhim. As well may I, said Breuse Sance Pit\u00e9, follow that beast as ye.\nThen shall ye do battle with me, said Sir Palamides. So Sir Palamides\ndressed him unto the other knight, Sir Bleoberis, that was a full noble\nknight, nigh kin unto Sir Launcelot. And so they met so hard that Sir\nPalamides fell to the earth, horse and all. Then Sir Bleoberis cried\naloud, and said thus: Make thee ready, thou false traitor knight,\nBreuse Sance Pit\u00e9, for wit thou certainly I will have ado with thee to\nthe utterance, for the noble knights and ladies that thou hast falsely\nbetrayed. When this false knight and traitor, Breuse Sance Pit\u00e9, heard\nhim say so, he took his horse by the bridle, and fled his way as fast\nas his horse might run, for sore he was of him afeard. When Sir\nBleoberis saw him flee, he followed fast after him, through thick and\nthrough thin. And by fortune as Sir Breuse fled, he saw even afore him\nthree knights of the Table Round, of the which the one hight Sir Ector\nde Maris, the other hight Sir Percivale de Galis, the third hight Sir\nHarry le Fise Lake, a good knight and an hardy. And as for Sir\nPercivale, he was called that time of his time one of the best knights\nof the world, and the best assured. When Breuse saw these knights, he\nrode straight unto them, and cried unto them, and prayed them of\nrescues. What need have ye? said Sir Ector. Ah, fair knights, said Sir\nBreuse, here followeth me the most traitor knight and most coward, and\nmost of villainy: his name is Breuse Sance Pit\u00e9; and if he may get me,\nhe will slay me without mercy and pity. Abide with us, said Sir\nPercivale, and we shall warrant you. Then were they ware of Sir\nBleoberis, that came riding all that he might. Then Sir Ector put\nhimself forth for to just afore them all. When Sir Bleoberis saw that\nthey were four knights, and he but himself, he stood in a doubt whether\nhe would turn or hold his way. Then he said to himself, I am a knight\nof the Table Round, and rather than I should shame mine oath and my\nblood I will hold my way whatsoever fall thereof. And then Sir Ector\ndressed his spear, and smote either other passing sore, but Sir Ector\nfell to the earth. That saw Sir Percivale, and he dressed his horse\ntoward him all that he might drive; but Sir Percivale had such a stroke\nthat horse and man fell to the earth. When Sir Harry saw that they were\nboth to the earth, then he said to himself, Never was Breuse of such\nprowess. So Sir Harry dressed his horse, and they met together so\nstrongly that both the horses and knights fell to the earth; but Sir\nBleoberis\u2019s horse began to recover again. That saw Sir Breuse, and he\ncame hurtling, and smote him over and over, and would have slain him as\nhe lay on the ground. Then Sir Harry le Fise Lake arose lightly, and\ntook the bridle of Sir Breuse\u2019s horse, and said, Fie for shame, strike\nnever a knight when he is at the earth; for this knight may be called\nno shameful knight of his deeds: for yet as men may see there as he\nlieth on the ground, he hath done worshipfully, and put to the worse\npassing good knights. Therefore will I not let, said Sir Breuse. Thou\nshalt not choose, said Sir Harry, as at this time. Then when Sir Breuse\nsaw that he might not choose, nor have his will, he spake fair. Then\nSir Harry let him go. And then anon he made his horse to run over Sir\nBleoberis, and rashed him to the earth like if he would have slain him.\nWhen Sir Harry saw him do so villainously, he cried, Traitor knight,\nleave off for shame. And as Sir Harry would have taken his horse to\nfight with Sir Breuse, then Sir Breuse ran upon him as he was half upon\nhis horse, and smote him down horse and man to the earth, and had near\nslain Sir Harry the good knight. That saw Sir Percivale, and then he\ncried, Traitor knight what dost thou? And when Sir Percivale was upon\nhis horse, Sir Breuse took his horse, and fled all that ever he might,\nand Sir Percivale and Sir Harry followed after him fast, but ever the\nlonger they chased the further were they behind. Then they turned\nagain, and came to Sir Ector de Maris and to Sir Bleoberis. Ah fair\nknights, said Bleoberis, why have ye succoured that false knight and\ntraitor? Why, said Sir Harry, what knight is he? for well I wot it is a\nfalse knight, said Sir Harry, and a coward, and a felonious knight.\nSir, said Bleoberis, he is the most coward knight, and a devourer of\nladies, and a destroyer of good knights, and specially of Arthur\u2019s.\nWhat is your name? said Sir Ector. My name is Sir Bleoberis de Ganis.\nAlas, fair cousin, said Ector, forgive it me, for I am Sir Ector de\nMaris. Then Sir Percivale and Sir Harry made great joy that they met\nwith Bleoberis, but all they were heavy that Sir Breuse was escaped\nthem, whereof they made great dole.\n_Of Sir Palamides, and how he met with Sir Bleoberis and with Sir\n Ector, and of Sir Percivale._\nRight so as they stood thus, there came Sir Palamides; and when he saw\nthe shield of Bleoberis lie on the earth, then said Palamides, He that\nowneth that shield, let him dress him to me, for he smote me down here\nfast by at a fountain, and therefore I will fight with him on foot. I\nam ready, said Sir Bleoberis, here to answer thee; for wit thou well,\nsir knight, it was I, and my name is Bleoberis de Ganis. Well art thou\nmet, said Palamides, and wit thou well my name is Sir Palamides the\nSaracen. And either of them hated other to the death. Sir Palamides,\nsaid Ector, wit thou well, there is neither thou, nor none knight that\nbeareth the life, that slayeth any of our blood, but he shall die for\nit; therefore, and thou list to fight, go seek Sir Launcelot, or Sir\nTristram, and there shall ye find your match. With them have I met,\nsaid Palamides, but I had never no worship of them. Was there never no\nmanner of knight, said Sir Ector, but they, that ever matched with you?\nYes, said Palamides, there was the third, a good knight as any of them,\nand of his age he was the best that ever I found; for, and he might\nhave lived till he had been an hardier man, there liveth no knight now\nsuch, and his name was Sir Lamorak de Galis. And as he had justed at a\ntournament, there he overthrew me and thirty knights more, and there he\nwon the degree. And at his departing, there met him Sir Gawaine and his\nbrethren, and with great pain they slew him feloniously, unto all good\nknights\u2019 great damage. And when Sir Percivale heard that his brother\nwas dead, Sir Lamorak, he fell over his horse\u2019s mane swooning, and\nthere he made the greatest dole that ever made knight. And when Sir\nPercivale arose, he said, Alas, my good and noble brother Sir Lamorak,\nnow shall we never meet, and I trow in all the wide world a man might\nnot find such a knight as he was of his age; and it is too much to\nsuffer the death of our father king Pellinore, and now the death of our\ngood brother Sir Lamorak. Then in the mean while there came a varlet\nfrom the court of king Arthur, and told them of the great tournament\nthat should be at Lonazep, and how these lands, Cornwall, and\nNorthgalis, should be against all them that would come.\n_How Sir Tristram met with Sir Dinadan, and of their devices, and what\n he said to Sir Gawaine\u2019s brethren._\nNow turn we unto Sir Tristram, that as he rode on hunting he met with\nSir Dinadan, that was come into that country to seek Sir Tristram. Then\nSir Dinadan told Sir Tristram his name, but Sir Tristram would not tell\nhis name, wherefore Sir Dinadan was wroth. For such a foolish knight as\nye are, said Sir Dinadan, I saw but late this day lying by a well, and\nhe fared as he slept, and there he lay like a fool grinning, and would\nnot speak, and his shield lay by him, and his horse stood by him, and\nwell I wot he was a lover. Ah, fair sir, said Sir Tristram, are ye not\na lover? Marry, fie on that craft, said Sir Dinadan. That is evil said,\nsaid Sir Tristram, for a knight may never be of prowess, but if he be a\nlover. It is well said, said Sir Dinadan: now tell me your name, sith\nye be a lover, or else I shall do battle with you. As for that, said\nSir Tristram, it is no reason to fight with me but I tell you my name:\nand as for that, my name shall ye not wit as at this time. Fie for\nshame, said Dinadan, art thou a knight, and darest not tell thy name to\nme? therefore I will fight with thee. As for that, said Sir Tristram, I\nwill be advised, for I will not fight but if me list; and if I do\nbattle, said Sir Tristram, ye are not able to withstand me. Fie on\nthee, coward, said Sir Dinadan. And thus as they hoved still, they saw\na knight came riding against them. Lo, said Sir Tristram, see where\ncometh a knight riding will just with you. Anon as Sir Dinadan beheld\nhim, he said, That is the same doted knight that I saw lie by the well,\nneither sleeping nor waking. Well, said Sir Tristram, I know that\nknight well with the covered shield of azure, he is the king\u2019s son of\nNorthumberland, his name is Epinegris, and he is as great a lover as I\nknow, and he loveth the king\u2019s daughter of Wales, a full fair lady. And\nnow I suppose, said Sir Tristram, and ye require him he will just with\nyou; and then shall ye prove whether a lover be a better knight or ye\nthat will not love no lady. Well, said Sir Dinadan, now shalt thou see\nwhat I shall do. Therewithal Sir Dinadan spake on high and said, Sir\nknight, make thee ready to just with me, for it is the custom of errant\nknights one to just with other. Sir, said Epinegris, is it the rule of\nyou errant knights for to make a knight to just will he or nill? As for\nthat, said Dinadan, make thee ready, for here is for me. And\ntherewithal they spurred their horses, and met together so hard that\nEpinegris smote down Sir Dinadan. Then Sir Tristram rode to Sir\nDinadan, and said, How now? me seemeth the lover hath well sped. Fie on\nthee coward, said Sir Dinadan, and if thou be a good knight revenge me.\nNay, said Sir Tristram, I will not just as at this time, but take your\nhorse, and let us go hence. Defend me, said Sir Dinadan, from thy\nfellowship, for I never sped well since I met with thee. And so they\ndeparted. Well, said Sir Tristram, peradventure I could tell you\ntidings of Sir Tristram. Defend me, said Dinadan, from thy fellowship,\nfor Sir Tristram were mickle the worse and he were in thy company. And\nthen they departed. Sir, said Sir Tristram, yet it may happen I shall\nmeet with you in other places. So rode Sir Tristram unto Joyous Gard,\nand there he heard in that town great noise and cry. What is this\nnoise, said Sir Tristram. Sir, said they, here is a knight of this\ncastle that hath been long among us, and right now he is slain with two\nknights, and for none other cause but that our knight said that Sir\nLauncelot were a better knight than Sir Gawaine. That was a simple\ncause, said Sir Tristram, for to slay a good knight for to say well by\nhis master. That is little remedy to us, said the men of the town, for\nand Sir Launcelot had been here, soon we should have been revenged upon\nthe false knights. When Sir Tristram heard them say so, he sent for his\nshield and for his spear, and lightly within a little while he had\novertaken them, and bade them turn and amend what they had misdone.\nWhat amends wouldest thou have? said the one knight. And therewith they\ntook their course, and either met other so hard, that Sir Tristram\nsmote down that knight over his horse tail. Then the other knight\ndressed him to Sir Tristram; and in the same wise he served the other\nknight. And then they gat off their horses as well as they might, and\ndressed their shields and swords to do their battle to the utterance.\nKnights, said Sir Tristram, ye shall tell me of whence ye are and what\nbe your names; for such men ye might be ye should hard escape my hands;\nand ye might be such men of such a country that for all your evil deeds\nye should pass quit. Wit thou well, sir knight, said they, we fear us\nnot to tell thee our names, for my name is Sir Agravaine, and my name\nis Gaheris, brethren unto the good knight Sir Gawaine, and we be\nnephews unto king Arthur. Well, said Sir Tristram, for king Arthur\u2019s\nsake I shall let you pass as at this time. But it is shame, said Sir\nTristram, that Sir Gawaine and ye that be come of so great a blood,\nthat ye four brethren are so named as ye be. For ye be called the\ngreatest destroyers and murderers of good knights that be now in this\nrealm; for it is but as I heard say, that Sir Gawaine and ye slew among\nyou a better knight than ever ye were, that was the noble knight Sir\nLamorak de Galis; and it had pleased God, said Sir Tristram, I would I\nhad been by Sir Lamorak at his death. Then shouldest thou have gone the\nsame way, said Sir Gaheris. Fair knight, said Sir Tristram, there must\nhave been many more knights than ye are. And therewithal Sir Tristram\ndeparted from them toward Joyous Gard. And when he was departed they\ntook their horses, and the one said to the other, We will overtake him\nand be revenged upon him in the despite of Sir Lamorak.\n_How Sir Tristram smote down Sir Agravaine and Sir Gaheris, and how Sir\n Dinadan was sent for by La Beale Isoud._\nSo when they had overtaken Sir Tristram, Sir Agravaine bade him, Turn,\ntraitor knight. That is evil said, said Sir Tristram; and therewith he\npulled out his sword, and smote Sir Agravaine such a buffet upon the\nhelm that he tumbled down off his horse in a swoon, and he had a\ngrievous wound. And then he turned to Gaheris, and Sir Tristram smote\nhis sword and his helm together with such a might that Gaheris fell out\nof his saddle; and so Sir Tristram rode unto Joyous Gard, and there he\nalight and unarmed him. So Sir Tristram told La Beale Isoud of all his\nadventure as ye have heard tofore. And when she heard him tell of Sir\nDinadan, Sir, she said, is not that he that made the song by king Mark?\nThat same is he, said Sir Tristram, for he is the best joker and\njester, and a noble knight of his hands, and the best fellow that I\nknow, and all good knights love his fellowship. Alas, Sir, said she,\nwhy brought ye not him with you? Have ye no care, said Sir Tristram,\nfor he rideth to seek me in this country, and therefore he will not\naway till he have met with me. And there Sir Tristram told La Beale\nIsoud how Sir Dinadan held against all lovers. Right so there came in a\nvarlet and told Sir Tristram how there was come an errant knight into\nthe town with such colours upon his shield. That is Sir Dinadan, said\nSir Tristram. Wit ye what ye shall do? said Sir Tristram; send ye for\nhim, my lady Isoud, and I will not be seen, and ye shall hear the\nmerriest knight that ever ye spake withal, and the maddest talker, and\nI pray you heartily that ye make him good cheer. Then anon La Beale\nIsoud sent into the town, and prayed sir Dinadan that he would come\ninto the castle and repose him there, with a lady. With a good will,\nsaid Sir Dinadan. And so he mounted upon his horse, and rode into the\ncastle, and there he alight, and was unarmed, and brought into the\ncastle. Anon La Beale Isoud came unto him, and either saluted other.\nThen she asked him of whence that he was. Madam, said Dinadan, I am of\nthe court of king Arthur, and knight of the Table Round, and my name is\nSir Dinadan. What do ye in this country? said La Beale Isoud. Madam,\nsaid he, I seek Sir Tristram the good knight, for it was told me that\nhe was in this country. It may well be, said La Beale Isoud, but I am\nnot aware of him. Madam said Dinadan, I marvel of Sir Tristram and more\nother lovers, what aileth them to be so mad and so sotted upon women.\nWhy, said La Beale Isoud, are ye a knight and be no lover? It is shame\nto you: wherefore ye may not be called a good knight but if ye make a\nquarrel for a lady. Nay, said Sir Dinadan, for the joy of love is too\nshort, and the sorrow thereof, and what cometh thereof, dureth over\nlong. Ah, said La Beale Isoud, say ye not so, for here fast by was the\ngood knight Sir Bleoberis, that fought with three knights at once for a\ndamsel\u2019s sake, and he wan her afore the king of Northumberland. It was\nso, said Sir Dinadan, for I know him well for a good knight and a\nnoble, and come of noble blood, for all be noble knights of whom he is\ncome of, that is Sir Launcelot du Lake. Now I pray you, said La Beale\nIsoud, tell me will ye fight for my love with three knights that done\nme great wrong? and in so much as ye be a knight of king Arthur\u2019s I\nrequire you to do battle for me. Then Sir Dinadan said, I shall say you\nbe as fair a lady as ever I saw any, and much fairer than is my lady\nqueen Guenever, but, wit ye well at one word, I will not fight for you\nwith three knights, Heaven defend me. Then Isoud laughed, and had good\ngame at him. So he had all the cheer that she might make him; and there\nhe lay all that night. And on the morn early Sir Tristram armed him,\nand La Beale Isoud gave him a good helm; and then he promised her that\nhe would meet with Sir Dinadan, and they two would ride together unto\nLonazep, where the tournament should be;\u2014and there shall I make ready\nfor you, where ye shall see the tournament. Then departed Sir Tristram\nwith two squires that bare his shield and his spears that were great\nand long.\n_How Sir Dinadan met with Sir Tristram, and with justing with Sir\n Palamides Sir Dinadan knew him._\nThen after that, Sir Dinadan departed and rode his way a great pace\nuntil he had overtaken Sir Tristram. And when Sir Dinadan had overtaken\nhim, he knew him anon, and he hated the fellowship of him above all\nother knights. Ah, said Sir Dinadan, art thou that coward knight that I\nmet with yesterday, keep thee, for thou shalt just with me, maugre thy\nhead. Well, said Sir Tristram, and I am loth to just. And so they let\ntheir horses run, and Sir Tristram missed of him a purpose, and Sir\nDinadan brake a spear upon Sir Tristram; and therewith Sir Dinadan\ndressed him to draw out his sword. Not so, said Sir Tristram, why are\nye so wroth? I will not fight. Fie on thee, coward, said Sir Dinadan,\nthou shamest all knights. As for that, said Sir Tristram, I care not,\nfor I will wait upon you and be under your protection, for because ye\nare so good a knight ye may save me. The devil deliver me of thee, said\nSir Dinadan, for thou art as goodly a man of arms and of thy person as\never I saw, and the most coward that ever I saw. What wilt thou do with\nthose great spears that thou carriest with thee? I shall give them,\nsaid Sir Tristram, to some good knight when I come to the tournament:\nand if I see you do best I shall give them to you. So thus as they rode\ntalking they saw where came an errant knight afore them, that dressed\nhim to just. Lo, said Sir Tristram, yonder is one will just, now dress\nthee to him. A shame betide thee, said Sir Dinadan. Nay not so, said\nTristram, for that knight beseemeth a shrew. Then shall I, said Sir\nDinadan. And so they dressed their shields and their spears, and they\nmet together so hard that the other knight smote down Sir Dinadan from\nhis horse. Lo, said Sir Tristram, it had been better ye had left. Fie\non thee, coward, said Sir Dinadan. Then Sir Dinadan started up, and gat\nhis sword in his hand, and proffered to do battle on foot. Whether in\nlove or in wrath, said the other knight. Let us do battle in love, said\nSir Dinadan. What is your name? said that knight, I pray you tell me.\nWit ye well my name is Sir Dinadan. Ah Dinadan, said that knight, and\nmy name is Gareth, the youngest brother unto Sir Gawaine. Then either\nmade of other great cheer, for this Gareth was the best knight of all\nthe brethren, and he proved a good knight. Then they took their horses,\nand there they spake of Sir Tristram, how such a coward he was: and\nevery word Sir Tristram heard, and laughed them to scorn. Then were\nthey ware where there came a knight afore them well horsed and well\narmed, and he made him ready to just. Fair knights, said Sir Tristram,\nlook betwixt you who shall just with yonder knight, for I warn you I\nwill not have ado with him. Then shall I, said Sir Gareth: and so they\nencountered together, and there that knight smote down Sir Gareth over\nhis horse croup. How now, said Sir Tristram unto Sir Dinadan, dress\nthee now, and revenge the good knight Gareth. That shall I not, said\nSir Dinadan, for he hath stricken down a much bigger knight than I am.\nAh, said Sir Tristram, now Sir Dinadan I see and feel well your heart\nfaileth you, therefore now shall ye see what I shall do. And then Sir\nTristram hurtled unto that knight, and smote him quite from his horse.\nAnd when Sir Dinadan saw that he marvelled greatly: and then he deemed\nthat it was Sir Tristram. Then this knight that was on foot pulled out\nhis sword to do battle. What is your name? said Sir Tristram. Wit ye\nwell, said the knight, my name is Sir Palamides. What knight hate ye\nmost? said Sir Tristram. Sir knight, said he, I hate Sir Tristram to\nthe death, for and I may meet with him the one of us shall die. Ye say\nwell, said Sir Tristram, and wit ye well that I am Sir Tristram de\nLiones, and now do your worst. When Sir Palamides heard him say so he\nwas astonished, and then he said thus, I pray you, Sir Tristram,\nforgive me all mine evil will, and if I live I shall do you service\nabove all other knights that be living, and there as I have owed you\nevil will me sore repenteth. I wot not what aileth me, for me seemeth\nthat ye are a good knight, and none other knight that named himself a\ngood knight should not hate you; therefore I require you, Sir Tristram,\ntake no displeasure at mine unkind words. Sir Palamides, said Sir\nTristram, ye say well, and well I wot ye are a good knight, for I have\nseen you proved, and many great enterprises have ye taken upon you, and\nwell achieved them; therefore, said Sir Tristram, and ye have any evil\nwill to me, now may ye right it, for I am ready at your hand. Not so,\nmy lord Sir Tristram; I will do you knightly service in all things as\nye will command. And right so I will take you, said Sir Tristram. And\nso they rode forth on their ways, talking of many things. O my lord Sir\nTristram, said Dinadan, foul have ye mocked me, for truly I came into\nthis country for your sake, and by the advice of my lord Sir Launcelot,\nand yet would not Sir Launcelot tell me the certainty of you, where I\nshould find you. Truly, said Sir Tristram, Sir Launcelot wist well\nwhere I was, for I abode within his own castle.\n_How they approached the castle Lonazep, and of other devices of the\n death of Sir Lamorak._\nThus they rode until they were ware of the castle Lonazep: and then\nwere they ware of four hundred tents and pavilions, and marvellous\ngreat ordinance. Truly, said Sir Tristram, yonder I see the greatest\nordinance that ever I saw. Sir, said Palamides, me seemeth there was as\ngreat an ordinance at the castle of Maidens upon the rock where ye won\nthe prize, for I saw myself where ye forjusted thirty knights. Sir,\nsaid Dinadan, and in Surluse at that tournament that Sir Galahalt of\nthe Long Isles made, the which there dured seven days, was as great a\ngathering as is here, for there were many nations. Who was the best?\nsaid Sir Tristram. Sir, it was Sir Launcelot du Lake and the noble\nknight Sir Lamorak de Galis. And Sir Launcelot won the degree. I doubt\nnot, said Sir Tristram, but he won the degree, so he had not been\novermatched with many knights. And of the death of Sir Lamorak, said\nSir Tristram, it was over great pity, for I dare say he was the\ncleanest mighted man and the best winded of his age that was on live,\nfor I knew him that he was the biggest knight that ever I met withal,\nbut if it were Sir Launcelot. Alas, said Sir Tristram, full woe is me\nfor his death. And if they were not the cousins of my lord Arthur that\nslew him, they should die for it, and all those that were consenting to\nhis death. And for such things, said Sir Tristram, I fear to draw unto\nthe court of my lord Arthur: I will that ye wit it, said Sir Tristram\nunto Gareth. Sir, I blame you not, said Gareth, for well I understand\nthe vengeance of my brethren Sir Gawaine, Sir Agravaine, Gaheris, and\nMordred. But as for me, said Sir Gareth, I meddle not of their matters,\ntherefore is none of them that loveth me; and for I understand they be\nmurderers of good knights I left their company, and God would I had\nbeen by, said Gareth, when the noble knight Sir Lamorak was slain. Now,\ntruly, said Sir Tristram, it is well said of you, for I had lever than\nall the gold betwixt this and Rome I had been there. Yea, said Sir\nPalamides, and so would I had been there, and yet had I never the\ndegree at no justs nor tournament there as he was, but he put me to the\nworse or on foot or on horseback, and that day that he was slain he did\nthe most deeds of arms that ever I saw knight do in all my life days.\nAnd when him was given the degree by my lord Arthur, Sir Gawaine and\nhis three brethren, Agravaine, Gaheris, and Sir Mordred, set upon Sir\nLamorak in a privy place, and there they slew his horse, and so they\nfought with him on foot more than three hours, both before him and\nbehind him; and Sir Mordred gave him his death\u2019s wound behind him at\nhis back, and all to-hewed him: for one of his squires told me that saw\nit. Fie upon treason, said Sir Tristram, for it killeth my heart to\nhear this tale. So doth it mine, said Gareth; brethren as they be mine\nI shall never love them, nor draw in their fellowship, for that deed.\nNow speak we of other deeds, said Sir Palamides, and let him be, for\nhis life ye may not get again. That is the more pity, said Dinadan, for\nSir Gawaine and his brethren, except you, Sir Gareth, hate all the good\nknights of the Round Table for the most part; for well I wot, and they\nmight privily, they hate my lord Sir Launcelot, and all his kin, and\ngreat privy despite they have at him, and that is my lord Sir Launcelot\nwell ware of, and that causeth him to have the good knights of his kin\nabout him.\n_How they came to Humber bank, and how they found a ship there, wherein\n lay the body of king Hermance._\nSir, said Palamides, let us leave off this matter, and let us see how\nwe shall do at this tournament. By mine advice, said Palamides, let us\nfour hold together against all that will come. Not by my counsel, said\nSir Tristram, for I see by their pavilions there will be four hundred\nknights, and doubt ye not, said Sir Tristram, but there will be many\ngood knights, and be a man never so valiant nor so big yet he may be\novermatched. And so have I seen knights done many times: and when they\nwend best to have won worship they lost it. For manhood is not worth\nbut if it be meddled with wisdom: and as for me, said Sir Tristram, it\nmay happen I shall keep mine own head as well as another. So thus they\nrode until that they came to Humber bank, where they heard a cry and a\ndoleful noise. Then were they ware in the wind where came a rich vessel\ncovered over with red silk, and the vessel landed fast by them.\nTherewith Sir Tristram alight and his knights. And so Sir Tristram went\nafore and entered into that vessel. And when he came within, he saw a\nfair bed richly covered, and thereupon lay a dead seemly knight, all\narmed, save the head was all be-bled, with deadly wounds upon him: the\nwhich seemed to be a passing good knight. How may this be, said Sir\nTristram, that this knight is thus slain? Then Sir Tristram was ware of\na letter in the dead knight\u2019s hand. Master mariners, said Sir Tristram,\nwhat meaneth that letter? Sir, said they, in that letter ye shall hear\nand know how he was slain, and for what cause, and what was his name;\nbut sir, said the mariners, wit ye well that no man shall take that\nletter and read it but if he be a good knight, and that he will\nfaithfully promise to revenge his death, else shall there no knight see\nthat letter open. Wit ye well, said Sir Tristram, that some of us may\nrevenge his death as well as others, and if it be so as ye mariners\nsay, his death shall be revenged. And therewith Sir Tristram took the\nletter out of the knight\u2019s hand; and it said thus:\u2014Hermance king and\nlord of the Red City, I send unto all knights errant recommending unto\nyou noble knights of Arthur\u2019s court, I beseech them all among them to\nfind one knight that will fight for my sake with two brethren that I\nbrought up of nought, and feloniously and traitorly they have slain me,\nwherefore I beseech one good knight to revenge my death. And he that\nrevengeth my death, I will that he have my Red City and all my castles.\nSir, said the mariners, wit ye well this king and knight that here\nlieth was a full worshipful man, and of full great prowess, and full\nwell he loved all manner of knights errant. Truly, said Sir Tristram,\nhere is a piteous case, and full fain I would take this enterprise upon\nme, but I have made such a promise that needs I must be at this great\ntournament or else I am shamed. For well I wot for my sake in especial\nmy lord Arthur let make this justs and tournament in this country; and\nwell I wot that many worshipful people will be there at that tournament\nfor to see me. Therefore I fear me to take this enterprise upon me,\nthat I shall not come again betimes to this justs. Sir, said Palamides,\nI pray you give me this enterprise, and ye shall see me achieve it\nworshipfully, or else I shall die in this quarrel. Well, said Sir\nTristram, and this enterprise I give you, with this that ye be with me\nat this tournament, that shall be as at this day seven night. Sir, said\nPalamides, I promise you that I shall be with you by that day if I be\nunslain or unmaimed.\n_How Sir Tristram with his fellowship came and were with an host which\n after fought with Sir Tristram; and other matters._\nThen departed Sir Tristram, Gareth, and Sir Dinadan, and left Sir\nPalamides in the vessel; and so Sir Tristram beheld the mariners how\nthey sailed over long Humber. And when Sir Palamides was out of their\nsight, they took their horses, and beheld about them. And then were\nthey ware of a knight that came riding against them unarmed, and\nnothing about him but a sword. And when this knight came nigh them he\nsaluted them, and they him again. Fair knights, said that knight, I\npray you insomuch as ye be knights errant, that ye will come and see my\ncastle, and take such as ye find there; I pray you heartily. And so\nthey rode with him into his castle; and there they were brought into\nthe hall, that was well apparelled, and so they were there unarmed and\nset at a board. And when this knight saw Sir Tristram, anon he knew\nhim; and then this knight waxed pale and wroth at Sir Tristram. When\nSir Tristram saw his host make such cheer, he marvelled and said, Sir,\nmine host, what cheer make you? Wit thou well, said he, I fare the\nworse for thee, for I know thee, Sir Tristram de Liones, thou slewest\nmy brother. And therefore I give thee summons I will slay thee, and\never I may get thee at large. Sir knight, said Sir Tristram, I am never\nadvised that ever I slew any brother of yours; and if ye say that I did\nI will make you amends unto my power. I will none amends, said the\nknight, but keep thee from me. So when he had dined, Sir Tristram asked\nhis arms and departed. And so they rode on their ways; and within a\nlittle while Sir Dinadan saw where came a knight well armed, and well\nhorsed, without shield. Sir Tristram, said Sir Dinadan, take keep to\nyourself, for I undertake yonder cometh your host that will have ado\nwith you. Let him come, said Sir Tristram, I shall abide him as well as\nI may. Anon the knight, when he came nigh Sir Tristram, he cried and\nbade him abide and keep him. So they hurtled together, but Sir Tristram\nsmote the other knight so sore that he bare him over his horse croup.\nThat knight arose lightly and took his horse again, and so rode\nfiercely to Sir Tristram, and smote him twice hard upon the helm. Sir\nknight, said Sir Tristram, I pray you leave off and smite me no more,\nfor I would be loth to deal with you and I might choose, for I have\nyour meat and your drink within my body. For all that he would not\nleave, and then Sir Tristram gave him such a buffet upon the helm, that\nhe fell up so down from his horse, that the blood burst out at the\nventails of his helm, and so he lay still, likely to have been dead.\nThen Sir Tristram said, Me repenteth sore of this buffet that I smote\nso sore, for as I suppose he is dead. And so they left him and rode on\ntheir ways. So they had not ridden but a while, but they saw coming\nagainst them two full likely knights, well armed and well horsed, and\ngoodly servants about them. The one was Berrant le Apres, and he was\ncalled the king with the hundred knights, and the other was Sir\nSegwarides, which were renowned two noble knights. So as they came\neither by other, the king looked upon Sir Dinadan, that at that time\nhad Sir Tristram\u2019s helm upon his shoulder, the which helm the king had\nseen before with the queen of Northgalis, and that queen the king\nloved, and that helm the queen of Northgalis had given unto La Beale\nIsoud, and the queen La Beale Isoud gave it to Sir Tristram. Sir\nknight, said Berrant, where had ye that helm? What would ye? said Sir\nDinadan. For I will have ado with thee, said the king, for the love of\nher that owned that helm, and therefore keep you. So they departed and\ncame together with all the mights of their horses; and there the king\nwith the hundred knights smote Sir Dinadan, horse and all, to the\nearth; and then he commanded his servant, Go and take thou his helm\noff, and keep it. So the varlet went to unbuckle his helm. What helm?\nWhat wilt thou do? said Sir Tristram; leave that helm. To what intent,\nsaid the king, will ye, sir knight, meddle with that helm? Wit you\nwell, said Sir Tristram, that helm shall not depart from me, or it be\ndearer bought. Then make you ready, said Sir Berrant unto Sir Tristram.\nSo they hurtled together, and there Sir Tristram smote him down over\nhis horse tail. And then the king arose lightly, and gat his horse\nlightly again, and then he strake fiercely at Sir Tristram many great\nstrokes. And then Sir Tristram gave Sir Berrant such a buffet upon the\nhelm that he fell down over his horse, sore stunned. Lo, said Sir\nDinadan, that helm is unhappy to us twain, for I had a fall for it, and\nnow, sir king, have ye another fall. Then Segwarides asked, Who shall\njust with me? I pray thee, said Sir Gareth unto Dinadan, let me have\nthis justs. Sir, said Dinadan, I pray you take it as for me. That is no\nreason, said Tristram, for this justs should be yours. At a word, said\nSir Dinadan, I will not thereof. Then Gareth dressed him to Sir\nSegwarides, and there Sir Segwarides smote Sir Gareth and his horse to\nthe earth. Now, said Sir Tristram to Dinadan, just with yonder knight.\nI will not thereof, said Dinadan. Then will I, said Sir Tristram. And\nthen Sir Tristram ran to him and gave him a fall, and so they left them\non foot. And Sir Tristram rode unto Joyous Gard, and there Sir Gareth\nwould not of his courtesy have gone into this castle, but Sir Tristram\nwould not suffer him to depart. And so they alight and unarmed them,\nand had great cheer. But when Dinadan came afore La Beale Isoud, he\ncursed the time that ever he bare Sir Tristram\u2019s helm, and there he\ntold her how Sir Tristram had mocked him. Then was there laughing and\njesting at Sir Dinadan, that they wist not what to do with him.\n_How Palamides went for to fight with two brethren for the death of\n king Hermance._\nNow will we leave them merry within Joyous Gard, and speak we of Sir\nPalamides. Then Sir Palamides sailed even along Humber to the coasts of\nthe sea, where was a fair castle. And at that time it was early in the\nmorning afore day. Then the mariners went unto Sir Palamides, that\nslept fast. Sir knight, said the mariners, ye must arise, for here is a\ncastle, there ye must go into. I assent me, said Sir Palamides. And\ntherewithal he arrived. And then he blew his horn, that the mariners\nhad given him. And when they within the castle heard that horn, they\nput forth many knights, and there they stood upon the walls, and said\nwith one voice, Welcome be ye to this castle. And then it waxed clear\nday, and Sir Palamides entered into the castle. And within a while he\nwas served with many divers meats. Then Sir Palamides heard about him\nmuch weeping and great dole. What may this mean? said Sir Palamides: I\nlove not to hear such a sorrow, and fain I would know what it meaneth.\nThen there came afore him one whose name was Sir Ebel, that said thus,\nWit ye well, sir knight, this dole and sorrow is here made every day,\nand for this cause: we had a king that hight Hermance, and he was king\nof the Red City, and this king that was lord was a noble knight, large\nand liberal of his expense. And in the world he loved nothing so much\nas he did errant knights of king Arthur\u2019s court, and all justing,\nhunting, and all manner of knightly games; for so kind a king and\nknight had never the rule of poor people as he was; and because of his\ngoodness and gentleness we bemoan him and ever shall. And all kings and\nestates may beware by our lord, for he was destroyed in his own\ndefault, for had he cherished them of his blood he had yet lived with\ngreat riches and rest; but all estates may beware of our king. But\nalas, said Ebel, that we shall give all other warning by his death.\nTell me, said Palamides, in what manner was your lord slain, and by\nwhom? Sir, said Sir Ebel, our king brought up of children two men that\nnow are perilous knights, and these two knights our king had so in\ncharity, that he loved no man nor trusted no man of his blood, nor none\nother that was about him. And by these two knights our king was\ngoverned: and so they ruled him peaceably, and his lands, and never\nwould they suffer none of his blood to have no rule with our king. And\nalso he was so free and so gentle, and they so false and deceivable,\nthat they ruled him peaceably; and that espied the lords of our king\u2019s\nblood, and departed from him unto their own livelihood. Then when these\ntwo traitors understood that they had driven all the lords of his blood\nfrom him, they were not pleased with that rule, but then they thought\nto have more, as ever it is an old saw, Give a churl rule, and thereby\nhe will not be sufficed; for whatsoever he be that is ruled by a\nvillain born, and the lord of the soil to be a gentleman born, the same\nvillain shall destroy all the gentlemen about him; therefore all\nestates and lords beware whom ye take about you. And if ye be a knight\nof king Arthur\u2019s court, remember this tale, for this is the end and\nconclusion. My lord and king rode unto the forest hereby, by the advice\nof these false traitors; and there he chased at the red deer, armed at\nall pieces full like a good knight; and so for labour he waxed dry, and\nthen he alight and drank at a well; and when he was alight, by the\nassent of these two traitors, that one that hight Helius he suddenly\nsmote our king through the body with a spear, and so they left him\nthere. And when they were departed, then by fortune I came to the well,\nand found my lord and king wounded to the death. And when I heard his\ncomplaint, I let bring him to the water side, and in that same ship I\nput him alive; and when my lord king Hermance was in that vessel, he\nrequired me for the true faith I owed unto him for to write a letter in\nthis manner:\u2014\n_The copy of the letter written for to revenge the king\u2019s death, and\n how Sir Palamides fought for to have the battle._\nRecommending unto king Arthur and to all his knights errant, beseeching\nthem all that insomuch as I king Hermance, king of the Red City, thus\nam slain by felony and treason through two knights of mine own, and of\nmine own bringing up, and of mine own making, that some worshipful\nknight will revenge my death, insomuch I have been ever to my power\nwell willing unto Arthur\u2019s court; and who that will adventure his life\nwith these two traitors for my sake in one battle, I king Hermance,\nking of the Red City, freely give him all my lands and rents that ever\nI held in my life. This letter, said Ebel, I wrote by my lord\u2019s\ncommandment; and then he received his Creator, and when he was dead he\ncommanded me or ever he was cold to put that letter fast in his hand;\nand then he commanded me to put forth that same vessel down Humber, and\nI should give these mariners in commandment never to stint until that\nthey came unto Logris, where all the noble knights shall assemble at\nthis time;\u2014And there shall some good knight have pity on me to revenge\nmy death, for there was never king nor lord falselyer ne traitorlyer\nslain than I am here to my death. Thus was the complaint of our king\nHermance. Now, said Sir Ebel, ye know all how our lord was betrayed, we\nrequire you for God\u2019s sake have pity upon his death, and worshipfully\nrevenge his death, and then may ye hold all these lands. For we all wit\nwell that, and ye may slay these two traitors, the Red City and all\nthose that be therein will take you for their lord. Truly, said Sir\nPalamides, it grieveth my heart for to hear you tell this doleful tale.\nAnd to say the truth, I saw the same letter that ye speak of; and one\nof the best knights on the earth read that letter to me, and by his\ncommandment I came hither to revenge your king\u2019s death; and therefore\nhave done, and let me wit where I shall find those traitors, for I\nshall never be at ease in my heart till that I be in hands with them.\nSir, said Sir Ebel, then take your ship again, and that ship must bring\nyou unto the Delectable Isle, fast by the Red City, and we in this\ncastle shall pray for you and abide your again-coming; for this same\ncastle, and ye speed well, must needs be yours; for our king Hermance\nlet make this castle for the love of the two traitors, and so we kept\nit with strong hand, and therefore full sore are we threated. Wot ye\nwhat ye shall do, said Sir Palamides; whatsoever come of me, look ye\nkeep well this castle. For, and it misfortune me so to be slain in this\nquest, I am sure there will come one of the best knights of the world\nfor to revenge my death, and that is Sir Tristram de Liones, or else\nSir Launcelot du Lake.\nThen Sir Palamides departed from that castle. And as he came nigh the\ncity, there came out of a ship a goodly knight armed against him, with\nhis shield on his shoulder, and his hand upon his sword. And anon as he\ncame nigh Sir Palamides he said, Sir knight, what seek ye here? Leave\nthis quest, for it is mine, and mine it was or ever it was yours, and\ntherefore I will have it. Sir knight, said Palamides, it may well be\nthat this quest was yours or it was mine, but when the letter was taken\nout of the dead king\u2019s hand, at that time by likelihood there was no\nknight had undertaken to revenge the death of the king. And so at that\ntime I promised to revenge his death. And so I shall, or else I am\nashamed. Ye say well, said the knight, but wit ye well then will I\nfight with you, and who be the better knight of us both, let him take\nthe battle upon hand. I assent me, said Sir Palamides. And then they\ndressed their shields and pulled out their swords, and lashed together\nmany sad strokes as men of might; and this fighting was more than an\nhour; but at the last Sir Palamides waxed big and better winded, so\nthat then he smote that knight such a stroke that he made him to kneel\nupon his knees. Then that knight spake on high and said, Gentle knight,\nhold thy hand. Sir Palamides was goodly, and withdrew his hand. Then\nthis knight said, Wit ye well, knight, that thou art better worthy to\nhave this battle than I, and I require thee of knighthood tell me thy\nname. Sir, my name is Palamides, a knight of king Arthur, and of the\nTable Round, that hither I came to revenge the death of this dead king.\n_Of the preparation of Sir Palamides and the two brethren that should\n fight with him._\nWell be ye found, said the knight to Palamides, for of all knights that\nbe on live, except three, I had levest have you. The first is Sir\nLauncelot du Lake, the second is Sir Tristram de Liones, the third is\nmy nigh cousin Sir Lamorak de Galis. And I am brother unto king\nHermance that is dead, and my name is Sir Hermind. Ye say well, said\nSir Palamides, and ye shall see how I shall speed. And if I be there\nslain go ye to my lord Sir Launcelot, or else to my lord Sir Tristram,\nand pray them to revenge my death, for as for Sir Lamorak, him shall ye\nnever see in this world. Alas, said Sir Hermind, how may that be? He is\nslain, said Sir Palamides, by Sir Gawaine and his brethren. Truly, said\nHermind, there was not one for one that slew him. That is truth, said\nSir Palamides, for they were four dangerous knights that slew him, as\nSir Gawaine, Sir Agravaine, Sir Gaheris, and Sir Mordred; but Sir\nGareth the fifth brother was away, the best knight of them all. And so\nSir Palamides told Hermind all the manner, and how they slew Sir\nLamorak all only by treason. So Sir Palamides took his ship, and\narrived up at the Delectable Isle. And in the meanwhile Sir Hermind,\nthat was the king\u2019s brother, he arrived up at the Red City, and there\nhe told them how there was come a knight of king Arthur\u2019s to avenge\nking Hermance\u2019s death; and his name is Sir Palamides the good knight,\nthat for the most part he followeth the beast Glatisant. Then all the\ncity made great joy. For mickle had they heard of Sir Palamides, and of\nhis noble prowess. So let they ordain a messenger and sent unto the two\nbrethren, and bade them to make them ready, for there was a knight come\nthat would fight with them both. So the messenger went unto them where\nthey were at a castle there beside. And there he told them how there\nwas a knight come of king Arthur\u2019s court to fight with them both at\nonce. He is welcome, said they. But tell us, we pray you, if it be Sir\nLauncelot, or any of his blood. He is none of that blood, said the\nmessenger. Then we care the less, said the two brethren, for with none\nof the blood of Sir Launcelot we keep not to have ado withal. Wit ye\nwell, said the messenger, that his name is Sir Palamides, that yet is\nunchristened, a noble knight. Well, said they, and he be now\nunchristened he shall never be christened. So they appointed to be at\nthe city within two days.\nAnd when Sir Palamides was come to the city, they made passing great\njoy of him: and then they beheld him and saw that he was well made,\ncleanly and bigly, and unmaimed of his limbs, and neither too young nor\ntoo old; and so all the people praised him. And though he was not\nchristened, yet he believed in the best manner, and was full faithful\nand true of his promise, and well conditioned. And because he made his\navow that he would never be christened until the time that he had\nachieved the beast Glatisant, which was a wonderful beast, and a great\nsignification, for Merlin prophesied much of that beast. And also Sir\nPalamides avowed never to take full christendom unto the time that he\nhad done seven battles within the lists. So within the third day there\ncame to the city these two brethren, the one hight Helius, the other\nhight Helake, the which were men of great prowess, howbeit that they\nwere false and full of treason, and but poor men born, yet were they\nnoble knights of their hands. And with them they brought forty knights\nto that intent that they should be big enough for the Red City. Thus\ncame the two brethren with great boasting and pride, for they had put\nthe Red City in fear and damage. Then they were brought to the lists.\nAnd Sir Palamides came into the place, and said thus: Be ye the two\nbrethren, Helius and Helake, that slew your king and lord, Sir\nHermance, by felony and treason, for whom that I am come hither to\nrevenge his death? Wit thou well, said Sir Helius and Sir Helake, that\nwe are the same knights that slew king Hermance. And wit thou well Sir\nPalamides, Saracen, that we shall handle thee so or thou depart that\nthou shalt wish that thou werest christened. It may well be, said Sir\nPalamides, for yet I would not die or I were christened, and yet so am\nI not afeard of you both, but I trust to God that I shall die a better\nchristian man than any of you both; and doubt ye not, said Sir\nPalamides, either ye or I shall be left dead in this place.\n_Of the battle between Sir Palamides and the two brethren, and how the\n two brethren were slain._\nThen they departed, and the two brethren came against Sir Palamides,\nand he against them, as fast as their horses might run. And by fortune\nSir Palamides smote Helake through his shield, and through the breast\nmore than a fathom. All this while Sir Helius held up his spear, and\nfor pride and presumption he would not smite Sir Palamides with his\nspear. But when he saw his brother lie on the earth, and saw he might\nnot help himself, then he said unto Sir Palamides, Help thyself: and\ntherewith he came hurtling unto Sir Palamides with his spear, and smote\nhim quite from his saddle. Then Sir Helius rode over Sir Palamides\ntwice or thrice. And therewith Sir Palamides was ashamed, and gat the\nhorse of Sir Helius by the bridle, and therewithal the horse areared,\nand Sir Palamides halp after, and so they fell both to the earth, but\nanon Sir Helius start up lightly, and there he smote Sir Palamides a\nmighty stroke upon the helm, so that he kneeled upon his own knee. Then\nthey lashed together many sad strokes, and traced and traversed, now\nbackward, now sideling, hurtling together like two boars, and that same\ntime they fell both groveling to the earth. Thus they fought still\nwithout any reposing two hours, and never breathed, and then Sir\nPalamides waxed faint and weary, and Sir Helius waxed passing strong,\nand doubled his strokes, and drove Sir Palamides overthwart and endlong\nall the field, that they of the city, when they saw Sir Palamides in\nthis case, they wept, and cried, and made great dole, and the other\nparty made as great joy. Alas, said the men of the city, that this\nnoble knight should thus be slain for our king\u2019s sake. And as they were\nthus weeping and crying, Sir Palamides that had suffered an hundred\nstrokes, that it was wonder that he stood upon his feet, at the last,\nSir Palamides beheld as he might the common people how they wept for\nhim, and then he said to himself, Ah, fie for shame, Sir Palamides, why\nhangest thou thy head so low? And therewith he bear up his shield, and\nlooked Sir Helius in the visage, and he smote him a great stroke upon\nthe helm, and after that another and another. And then he smote Sir\nHelius with such a might that he fell to the earth groveling, and then\nhe rased off his helm from his head, and there he smote him such a\nbuffet that he departed his head from the body. And then were the\npeople of the city the joyfullest people that might be. So they brought\nhim to his lodging with great solemnity, and there all the people\nbecame his men. And then Sir Palamides prayed them all to take keep\nunto all the lordship of king Hermance;\u2014For, fair sirs, wit ye well, I\nmay not as at this time abide with you, for I must in all haste be with\nmy lord king Arthur at the castle of Lonazep, the which I have promised.\nThen were the people full heavy at his departing. For all that city\nproffered Sir Palamides the third part of their goods so that he would\nabide with them: but in no wise as at that time he would not abide. And\nso Sir Palamides departed. And so he came unto the castle, there as Sir\nEbel was lieutenant. And when they in the castle wist how Sir Palamides\nhad sped there was a joyful company. And so Sir Palamides departed, and\ncame to the castle of Lonazep. And when he wist that Sir Tristram was\nnot there, he took his way over Humber, and came unto Joyous Gard where\nas Sir Tristram was, and La Beale Isoud. Sir Tristram had commanded\nthat what knight errant came within the Joyous Gard, as in the town,\nthat they should warn Sir Tristram. So there came a man of the town,\nand told Sir Tristram how there was a knight in the town a passing\ngoodly man. What manner of man is he? said Sir Tristram, and what sign\nbeareth he? So the man told Sir Tristram all the tokens of him. That is\nPalamides, said Dinadan. It may well be, said Sir Tristram: go ye to\nhim, said Sir Tristram unto Dinadan. So Dinadan went unto Sir\nPalamides, and there either made of other great joy, and so they lay\ntogether that night, and on the morn early came Sir Tristram and Sir\nGareth, and took them in their beds, and so they arose and brake their\nfast.\n_How Sir Tristram and Sir Palamides met Breuse Sance Pit\u00e9, and how Sir\n Tristram and La Beale Isoud went unto Lonazep._\nAnd then Sir Tristram desired Sir Palamides to ride into the fields and\nwoods; so they were accorded to repose them in the forest. And when\nthey had played them a great while, they rode unto a fair well, and\nanon they were ware of an armed knight that came riding against them,\nand there either saluted other. Then this armed knight spake to Sir\nTristram, and asked what were those knights that were lodged in Joyous\nGard. I wot not what they are, said Sir Tristram. What knights be ye,\nsaid that knight, for me seemeth that ye be no knights errant, because\nye ride unarmed? Whether we be knights or not, we list not to tell thee\nour name. Wilt thou not tell me thy name, said that knight, then keep\nthee, for thou shalt die of my hands. And therewith he gat his spear in\nhis hands, and would have run Sir Tristram through. That saw Sir\nPalamides, and smote his horse traverse in midst of the side, that man\nand horse fell to the earth. And therewith Sir Palamides alight, and\npulled out his sword to have slain him. Let be, said Sir Tristram, slay\nhim not, the knight is but a fool, it were shame to slay him. But take\naway his spear, said Sir Tristram, and let him take his horse and go\nwhere that he will. So when this knight arose he groaned sore of the\nfall, and so he took his horse, and when he was up, he turned then his\nhorse, and required Sir Tristram and Sir Palamides to tell him what\nknights they were. Now wit ye well, said Sir Tristram, that my name is\nSir Tristram de Liones, and this knight\u2019s name is Sir Palamides. When\nhe wist what they were, he took his horse with the spurs because they\nshould not ask him his name, and so rode fast away through thick and\nthin. Then came there by them a knight with a bended shield of azure,\nwhose name was Epinogris, and he came toward them a great wallop.\nWhither are ye riding? said Sir Tristram. My fair lords, said\nEpinogris, I follow the falsest knight that beareth the life, wherefore\nI require tell me whether ye saw him, for he beareth a shield with a\ncase of red over it. Truly, said Tristram, such a knight departed from\nus not a quarter of an hour ago; we pray you tell us his name. Alas,\nsaid Epinogris, why let ye him escape from you, and he is so great a\nfoe unto all errant knights: his name is Breuse Sance Pit\u00e9. Ah fie for\nshame, said Sir Palamides, alas that ever he escaped my hands, for he\nis the man in the world that I hate most. Then every knight made great\nsorrow to other, and so Epinogris departed, and followed the chase\nafter him. Then Sir Tristram and his three fellows rode unto Joyous\nGard, and there Sir Tristram talked unto Sir Palamides of his battle,\nhow he sped at the Red City; and as ye have heard afore, so was it\nended. Truly, said Sir Tristram, I am glad ye have well sped, for ye\nhave done worshipfully. Well, said Sir Tristram, we must forward\nto-morn. And then he devised how it should be, and Sir Tristram devised\nto send his two pavilions to set them fast by the well of Lonazep,\u2014and\ntherein shall be the queen La Beale Isoud. It is well said, said Sir\nDinadan. But when Sir Palamides heard of that, his heart was ravished\nout of measure: notwithstanding he said but little. So when they came\nto Joyous Gard, Sir Palamides would not have gone into the castle, but\nas Sir Tristram took him by the finger, and led him into the castle.\nAnd when Sir Palamides saw La Beale Isoud, he was so ravished so that\nhe might scarcely speak. So they went unto meat, but Palamides might\nnot eat, and there was all the cheer that might be had. And on the morn\nthey were apparelled to ride towards Lonazep.\nSo Sir Tristram had three squires, and La Beale Isoud had three\ngentlewomen, and both the queen and they were richly apparelled; and\nother people had they none with them, but varlets to bear their shields\nand their spears. And thus they rode forth. So as they rode they saw\nafore them a rout of knights: it was the knight Galihodin with twenty\nknights with him. Fair fellows, said Galihodin, yonder come four\nknights, and a rich and a well fair lady: I am in will to take that\nlady from them. That is not of the best counsel, said one of\nGalihodin\u2019s men, but send ye to them and wit what they will say. And so\nit was done. There came a squire to Sir Tristram and asked him whether\nthey would just, or else to lose their lady? Not so, said Sir Tristram,\ntell your lord, I bid him come as many as we be, and win her and take\nher. Sir, said Palamides, and it please you, let me have this deed, and\nI shall undertake them all four. I will that ye have it, said Sir\nTristram, at your pleasure. Now go and tell your lord Galihodin, that\nthis same knight will encounter with him and his fellows.\n_How Sir Palamides justed with Sir Galihodin and after with Sir\n Gawaine, and smote them down._\nThen this squire departed and told Galihodin, and then he dressed his\nshield, and put forth a spear, and Sir Palamides another, and there Sir\nPalamides smote Galihodin so hard that he smote both horse and man to\nthe earth. And there he had an horrible fall. And then came there\nanother knight, and in the same wise he served him, and so he served\nthe third and the fourth, that he smote them over their horse croups:\nand always Sir Palamides\u2019 spear was whole. Then came six knights more\nof Galihodin\u2019s men, and would have been avenged upon Sir Palamides. Let\nbe, said Sir Galihodin, not so hardy! None of you all meddle with this\nknight, for he is a man of great bounty and honour; and if he would, ye\nwere not able to meddle with him. And right so they held them still.\nAnd ever Sir Palamides was ready to just. And when he saw they would no\nmore, he rode unto Sir Tristram. Right well have ye done, said Sir\nTristram, and worshipfully have ye done as a good knight should. This\nGalihodin was nigh cousin unto Galahalt the haut prince. And this\nGalihodin was a king within the country of Surluse. So as Sir Tristram,\nSir Palamides, and La Beale Isoud rode together, they saw afore them\nfour knights, and every man had his spear in his hand. The first was\nSir Gawaine, the second Sir Uwaine, the third Sir Sagramor le Desirous,\nand the fourth was Dodinas le Savage. When Sir Palamides beheld them,\nthat the four knights were ready to just, he prayed Sir Tristram to\ngive him leave to have ado with them all so long as he might hold him\non horseback:\u2014And if that I be smitten down, I pray you revenge me.\nWell, said Sir Tristram, I will as ye will, and ye are not so fain to\nhave worship, but I would as fain increase your worship. And there\nwithal Sir Gawaine put forth his spear, and Sir Palamides another, and\nso they came so eagerly together that Sir Palamides smote Sir Gawaine\nto the earth, horse and all; and in the same wise he served Uwaine, Sir\nDodinas, and Sagramor. All these four knights Sir Palamides smote down\nwith divers spears. And then Sir Tristram departed toward Lonazep. And\nwhen they were departed, then came thither Galihodin with his ten\nknights unto Sir Gawaine, and there he told him all how he had sped. I\nmarvel, said Sir Gawaine, what knights they be that are so arrayed in\ngreen. And that knight upon the white horse smote me down, said\nGalihodin, and my three fellows. And so he did to me, said Gawaine, and\nwell I wot, said Sir Gawaine, that either he upon the white horse is\nSir Tristram, or else Sir Palamides, and that gaybeseen lady is queen\nIsoud. Thus they talked of one thing and of other. And in the mean\nwhile Sir Tristram passed on, till that he came to the well where his\ntwo pavilions were set, and there they alighted, and there they saw\nmany pavilions and great array. Then Sir Tristram left there Sir\nPalamides and Sir Gareth with La Beale Isoud; and Sir Tristram and Sir\nDinadan rode to Lonazep to hearken tidings; and Sir Tristram rode upon\nSir Palamides\u2019 white horse. And when he came into the castle, Sir\nDinadan heard a great horn blow, and to the horn drew many knights.\nThen Sir Tristram asked a knight, What meaneth the blast of that horn?\nSir, said that knight, it is all those that shall hold against king\nArthur at this tournament. The first is the king of Ireland, and the\nking of Surluse, the king of Listinoise, the king of Northumberland,\nand the king of the best part of Wales, with many other countries: and\nthese draw them to a council, to understand what governance they shall\nbe of. But the king of Ireland, whose name was Marhalt, and father to\nthe good knight Sir Marhaus that Sir Tristram slew, had all the speech,\nthat Sir Tristram might hear it. He said: Lords and fellows, let us\nlook to ourselves, for wit ye well king Arthur is sure of many good\nknights, or else he would not with so few knights have ado with us;\ntherefore, by my counsel, let every king have a standard and a\ncognizance by himself, that every knight draw to his natural lord, and\nthen may every king and captain help his knights, if they have need.\nWhen Sir Tristram had heard all their counsel, he rode unto king Arthur\nfor to hear of his counsel.\n_How Sir Tristram and his fellowship came unto the tournament of\n Lonazep; and of divers justs and matters._\nBut Sir Tristram was not so soon come into the place, but Sir Gawaine\nand Sir Galihodin went to king Arthur, and told him, That same green\nknight in the green harness, with the white horse, smote us two down,\nand six of our fellows, this same day. Well, said Arthur; and then he\ncalled Sir Tristram, and asked him what was his name. Sir, said Sir\nTristram, ye shall hold me excused as at this time, for ye shall not\nwit my name. And there Sir Tristram returned and rode his way. I have\nmarvel, said Arthur, that yonder knight will not tell me his name, but\ngo thou, Griflet le Fise de Dieu, and pray him to speak with me betwixt\nus. Then Sir Griflet rode after him, and overtook him, and said to him\nthat king Arthur prayed him for to speak with him secretly apart. Upon\nthis covenant, said Sir Tristram, I will speak with him that I will\nturn again, so that ye will ensure me not to desire to hear my name. I\nshall undertake, said Sir Griflet, that he will not greatly desire it\nof you. So they rode together until they came to king Arthur. Fair sir,\nsaid king Arthur, what is the cause ye will not tell me your name? Sir,\nsaid Sir Tristram, without a cause I will not hide my name. Upon what\nparty will ye hold? said king Arthur. Truly, my lord, said Sir\nTristram, I wot not yet on what party I will be on until I come to the\nfield; and there as my heart giveth me there will I hold: but to-morrow\nye shall see and prove on what party I shall come. And therewithal he\nreturned and went to his pavilions. And upon the morn they armed them\nall in green, and came into the field; and there young knights began to\njust, and did many worshipful deeds. Then spake Gareth unto Sir\nTristram, and prayed him to give him leave to break his spear, for him\nthought shame to bear his spear whole again. When Sir Tristram heard\nhim say so he laughed, and said, I pray you, do your best. Then Sir\nGareth gat a spear, and proffered to just. That saw a nephew unto the\nking of the hundred knights, his name was Selises, and a good man of\narms. So this knight Selises then dressed him unto Sir Gareth, and they\ntwo met together so hard that either smote other down, horse and all,\nto the earth; so they were both bruised and hurt, and there they lay\ntill the king with the hundred knights halp Selises up; and Sir\nTristram and Sir Palamides halp up Gareth again; and so they rode with\nSir Gareth unto their pavilions, and then they pulled off his helm. And\nwhen La Beale Isoud saw Sir Gareth bruised in the face, she asked him\nwhat ailed him. Madam, said Sir Gareth, I had a great buffet, and, as I\nsuppose, I gave another, but none of my fellows would not rescue me.\nForsooth, said Palamides, it longed not to none of us as this day to\njust, for there have not this day justed no proved knights; and needs\nye would just, and when the other party saw ye proferred yourself to\njust, they sent one to you, a passing good knight of his age, for I\nknow him well, his name is Selises, and worshipfully ye met with him,\nand neither of you are dishonoured; and therefore refresh yourself,\nthat ye may be ready and whole to just to-morrow. As for that, said Sir\nGareth, I shall not fail you, and I may bestride my horse.\n_How Sir Tristram and his fellowship justed, and of the noble feats\n that they did in that tourneying._\nNow upon what party, said Sir Tristram, is it best we be withal as\nto-morn? Sir, said Palamides, ye shall have mine advice to be against\nking Arthur as to-morn, for on his party will be Sir Launcelot, and\nmany good knights of his blood with him. And the more men of worship\nthat they be, the more worship we shall win. That is full knightly\nspoken, said Sir Tristram, and right so as ye counsel me, so will we\ndo. So be it, said they all. So that night they were lodged with the\nbest. And on the morn when it was day, they were arrayed in green\ntrappings, shields, and spears; and La Beale Isoud in the same colour,\nand her three damsels. And right so these four knights came into the\nfield endlong and through. And so they led La Beale Isoud thither as\nshe should stand and behold all the justs in a bay window; but always\nshe wimpled that no man might see her visage. And then these three\nknights rode straight unto the party of the king of Scots.\nWhen king Arthur had seen them do all this, he asked Sir Launcelot what\nwere these knights and that queen? Sir, said Sir Launcelot, I cannot\nsay you in certain, but if Sir Tristram be in this country, or Sir\nPalamides, wit ye well it be they in certain, and La Beale Isoud. Then\nArthur called to him Sir Kay, and said, Go lightly and wit how many\nknights there be here lacking of the Table Round, for by the sieges\nthou mayest know. So went Sir Kay, and saw by the writing in the sieges\nthat there lacked ten knights,\u2014And these be their names that be not\nhere, Sir Tristram, Sir Palamides, Sir Percivale, Sir Gaheris, Sir\nEpinogris, Sir Mordred, Sir Dinadan, Sir La Cote Male Taile, and Sir\nPelleas the noble knight. Well, said Arthur, some of these I dare\nundertake are here this day against us. Then came therein two brethren,\ncousins unto Sir Gawaine, the one hight Sir Edward, that other hight\nSir Sadok, the which were two good knights, and they asked of king\nArthur that they might have the first justs, for they were of Orkney. I\nam pleased, said king Arthur. Then Sir Edward encountered with the king\nof Scots, in whose party was Sir Tristram and Sir Palamides; and Sir\nEdward smote the king of Scots quite from his horse; and Sir Sadok\nsmote down the king of North Wales, and gave him a wonder great fall,\nthat there was a great cry on king Arthur\u2019s party, and that made Sir\nPalamides passing wroth; and so Sir Palamides dressed his shield and\nhis spear, and with all his might he met with Sir Edward of Orkney,\nthat he smote him so hard that his horse might not stand on his feet,\nand so they hurtled to the earth: and then with the same spear Sir\nPalamides smote down Sir Sadok over his horse croup. Oh, said Arthur,\nwhat knight is that arrayed all in green? he justeth mightily. Wit you\nwell, said Sir Gawaine, he is a good knight, and yet shall ye see him\njust better or he depart; and yet shall ye see, said Sir Gawaine,\nanother bigger knight in the same colour than he is, for that same\nknight, said Sir Gawaine, that smote down right now my two cousins, he\nsmote me down within these two days, and seven fellows more. This\nmeanwhile, as they stood thus talking, there came into the place Sir\nTristram upon a black horse, and or ever he stint he smote down with\none spear four good knights of Orkney, that were of the kin of Sir\nGawaine; and Sir Gareth and Sir Dinadan every each of them smote down a\ngood knight. Truly, said Arthur, yonder knight upon the black horse\ndoth mightily and marvellously well. Abide you, said Sir Gawaine; that\nknight with the black horse began not yet. Then Sir Tristram made to\nhorse again the two kings that Edward and Sadok had unhorsed at the\nbeginning. And then Sir Tristram drew his sword, and rode into the\nthickest of the press against them of Orkney, and there he smote down\nknights, and rashed off helms, and pulled away their shields, and\nhurtled down many knights: he fared so that Sir Arthur and all knights\nhad great marvel, when they saw one knight do so great deeds of arms.\nAnd Sir Palamides failed not upon the other side, but did so\nmarvellously well that all men had wonder. For there king Arthur\nlikened Sir Tristram, that was on the black horse, like to a wood lion,\nand likened Sir Palamides, upon the white horse, unto a wood libbard,\nand Sir Gareth and Sir Dinadan unto eager wolves. But the custom was\nsuch among them, that none of the kings would help other, but all the\nfellowship of every standard to help other as they might. But ever Sir\nTristram did so much deeds of arms that they of Orkney waxed weary of\nhim, and so withdrew them unto Lonazep.\n_How Sir Tristram was unhorsed and smitten down by Sir Launcelot, and\n after that Sir Tristram smote down king Arthur._\nThen was the cry of heralds and all manner of common people, The green\nknight hath done marvellously, and beaten all them of Orkney. And there\nthe heralds numbered that Sir Tristram, that sat upon the black horse,\nhad smitten down twenty knights; and Sir Palamides had smitten down\ntwenty knights; and the most part of these fifty knights were of the\nhouse of king Arthur, and proved knights. Truly, said Arthur unto Sir\nLauncelot, this is a great shame to us to see four knights beat so many\nknights of mine; and therefore make you ready, for we will have ado\nwith them. Sir, said Sir Launcelot, wit ye well that there are two\npassing good knights, and great worship were it not to us now to have\nado with them, for they have this day sore travailed. As for that, said\nArthur, I will be avenged, and therefore take with you Sir Bleoberis\nand Sir Ector, and I will be the fourth, said Arthur. Sir, said\nLauncelot, ye shall find me ready, and my brother Sir Ector, and my\ncousin Sir Bleoberis. And so when they were ready and on horseback, Now\nchoose, said Sir Arthur unto Sir Launcelot, with whom that ye will\nencounter withal. Sir, said Launcelot, I will meet with the green\nknight upon the black horse (that was Sir Tristram), and my cousin Sir\nBleoberis shall match the green knight upon the white horse (that was\nSir Palamides), and my brother Sir Ector shall match with the green\nknight upon the white horse (that was Sir Gareth). Then must I, said\nSir Arthur, have ado with the green knight upon the grisled horse (and\nthat was Sir Dinadan). Now every man take heed to his fellow, said Sir\nLauncelot. And so they trotted on together; and there encountered Sir\nLauncelot against Sir Tristram. So Sir Launcelot smote Sir Tristram so\nsore upon the shield that he bare horse and man to the earth: but Sir\nLauncelot wend it had been Sir Palamides, and so he passed forth. And\nthen Sir Bleoberis encountered with Sir Palamides, and he smote him so\nhard upon the shield that Sir Palamides and his white horse rustled to\nthe earth. Then Sir Ector de Maris smote Sir Gareth so hard that down\nhe fell off his horse. And the noble king Arthur encountered with Sir\nDinadan, and he smote him quite from his saddle. And then the noise\nturned awhile how the green knights were slain down. When the king of\nNorthgalis saw that Sir Tristram had a fall, then he remembered him how\ngreat deeds of arms Sir Tristram had done. Then he made ready many\nknights, for the custom and cry was such, that what knight were smitten\ndown, and might not be horsed again by his fellows, or by his own\nstrength, that as that day he should be prisoner unto the party that\nhad smitten him down. So came in the king of Northgalis, and he rode\nstraight unto Sir Tristram. And when he came nigh him he alight down\nsuddenly, and betook Sir Tristram his horse, and said thus: Noble\nknight, I know thee not of what country thou art, but for the noble\ndeeds that thou hast done this day take there my horse, and let me do\nas well as I may; for truly thou art better worthy to have mine horse\nthan I myself. Gramercy, said Sir Tristram, and if I may I shall\nrequite you. Look that ye go not far from us, and, as I suppose, I\nshall win you another horse. And therewith Sir Tristram mounted upon\nhis horse, and there he met with king Arthur, and he gave him such a\nbuffet upon the helm with his sword that king Arthur had no power to\nkeep his saddle. And then Sir Tristram gave the king of Northgalis king\nArthur\u2019s horse. Then was there great press about king Arthur for to\nhorse him again. But Sir Palamides would not suffer king Arthur to be\nhorsed again: but ever Sir Palamides smote on the right hand and on the\nleft hand mightily as a noble knight. And this mean while Sir Tristram\nrode through the thickest of the press, and smote down knights on the\nright and on the left hand, and rased off helms, and so passed forth\nunto his pavilions, and left Sir Palamides on foot. And Sir Tristram\nchanged his horse, and disguised himself all in red, horse and harness.\n_How Sir Tristram changed his harness and it was all red, and how he\n demeaned him, and how Sir Palamides slew Launcelot\u2019s horse._\nAnd when the queen La Beale Isoud saw that Sir Tristram was unhorsed,\nand she wist not where he was, then she wept greatly. But Sir Tristram,\nwhen he was ready, came dashing lightly into the field, and then La\nBeale Isoud espied him. And so he did great deeds of arms, with one\nspear that was great Sir Tristram smote down five knights or ever he\nstint. Then Sir Launcelot espied him readily that it was Sir Tristram,\nand then he repented him that he had smitten him down. And so Sir\nLauncelot went out of the press to repose him, and lightly he came\nagain. And now when Sir Tristram came unto the press, through his great\nforce he put Sir Palamides upon his horse, and Sir Gareth, and Sir\nDinadan, and then they began to do marvellously. But Sir Palamides nor\nnone of his two fellows knew not who had holpen them on horseback\nagain. But ever Sir Tristram was nigh them and succoured them, and they\nnot him, because he was changed into red armour. And all this while Sir\nLauncelot was away. So when La Beale Isoud knew Sir Tristram again upon\nhis horse back she was passing glad, and then she laughed and made good\ncheer. And as it happened Sir Palamides looked up toward her, where she\nlay in the window, and he espied how she laughed: and therewith he took\nsuch a rejoicing that he smote down, what with his spear and with his\nsword, all that ever he met; for through the sight of her he was so\nenamoured in her love, that he seemed at that time that, and both Sir\nTristram and Sir Launcelot had been both against him, they should have\nwon no worship of him. And in his heart, as the book saith, Sir\nPalamides wished that with his worship he might have ado with Sir\nTristram before all men because of La Beale Isoud. Then Sir Palamides\nbegan to double his strength, and he did so marvellously that all men\nhad wonder of him. And ever he cast up his eye unto La Beale Isoud, and\nwhen he saw her make such cheer he fared like a lion, that there might\nno man withstand him. And then Sir Tristram beheld him how that Sir\nPalamides bestirred him, and then he said unto Sir Dinadan, Truly, Sir\nPalamides is a passing good knight, and a well enduring: but such deeds\nsaw I him never do, nor never heard I tell that ever he did so much in\none day. It is his day, said Sir Dinadan: and he would say no more unto\nSir Tristram; but to himself he said, And if ye knew for whose love he\ndoth all these deeds of arms, soon would Sir Tristram abate his\ncourage. Alas, said Sir Tristram, that Sir Palamides is not christened.\nSo said king Arthur, and so said all those that beheld him. Then all\npeople gave him the prize as for the best knight that day, that he\npassed Sir Launcelot or Sir Tristram. Well, said Dinadan to himself,\nall this worship that Sir Palamides hath here this day, he may thank\nthe queen Isoud; for had she been away this day, Sir Palamides had not\ngotten the prize this day.\nRight so came into the field Sir Launcelot du Lake, and saw and heard\nthe noise and cry and the great worship that Sir Palamides had. He\ndressed him against Sir Palamides with a great mighty spear, and a\nlong, and thought to smite him down. And when Sir Palamides saw Sir\nLauncelot come upon him so fast, he ran upon Sir Launcelot as fast with\nhis sword as he might. And as Sir Launcelot should have stricken him he\nsmote his spear on side, and smote it atwo with his sword. And Sir\nPalamides rashed unto Sir Launcelot and thought to have put him to a\nshame, and with his sword he smote his horse\u2019s neck that Sir Launcelot\nrode upon, and then Sir Launcelot fell to the earth. Then was the cry\nhuge and great;\u2014See how Sir Palamides the Saracen hath smitten down\nSir Launcelot\u2019s horse. Right then were there many knights wroth with\nSir Palamides, because he had done that deed. Therefore many knights\nheld there against that it was unknightly done in a tournament to kill\na horse wilfully, but that it had been done in plain battle, life for\nlife.\n_How Sir Launcelot said to Sir Palamides, and how the prize of that day\n was given unto Sir Palamides._\nWhen Sir Ector de Maris saw Sir Launcelot his brother have such a\ndespite, and so set on foot, then he gat a spear eagerly and ran\nagainst Sir Palamides, and he smote him so hard that he bare him quite\nfrom his horse. That saw Sir Tristram that was in red harness, and he\nsmote down Sir Ector de Maris quite from his horse. Then Sir Launcelot\ndressed his shield upon his shoulder, and with his sword naked in his\nhand, and so came straight upon Sir Palamides fiercely, and said, Wit\nthou well, thou hast done me this day the greatest despite that ever\nany worshipful knight did to me in tournament or in justs, and\ntherefore I will be avenged upon thee, therefore take keep to yourself.\nAh mercy, noble knight, said Palamides, and forgive me mine unkindly\ndeeds, for I have no power nor might to withstand you. And I have done\nso much this day, that well I wot I did never so much nor never shall\nin my life days. And therefore, most noble knight, I require thee spare\nme as at this day, and I promise you I shall ever be your knight while\nI live. And ye put me from my worship now, ye put me from the greatest\nworship that ever I had, or ever shall have, in my life days. Well,\nsaid Sir Launcelot, I see, for to say the sooth, ye have done\nmarvellously well this day, and I understand a part for whose love ye\ndo it, and well I wot that love is a great mistress. And if my lady\nwere here as she is not, wit you well that ye should not bear away the\nworship. But beware your love be not discovered; for and Sir Tristram\nmay know it ye will repent it. And since my quarrel is not here, ye\nshall have this day the worship as for me; considering the great\ntravail and pain that ye have had this day, it were no worship for me\nto put you from it. And therewithal Sir Launcelot suffered Sir\nPalamides to depart. Then Sir Launcelot by great force and might gat\nhis own horse, maugre twenty knights. So when Sir Launcelot was horsed\nhe did many marvels, and so did Sir Tristram, and Sir Palamides in\nlikewise. Then Sir Launcelot smote down with a spear Sir Dinadan, and\nthe king of Scotland, and the king of Wales, and the king of\nNorthumberland, and the king of Listinoise. So then Sir Launcelot and\nhis fellows smote down well a forty knights. Then came the king of\nIreland and the king of the Straight Marches to rescue Sir Tristram and\nSir Palamides. There began a great meddle, and many knights there were\nsmitten down on both parties, and always Sir Launcelot spared Sir\nTristram, and he spared him. And Sir Palamides would not meddle with\nSir Launcelot. And so there was hurtling here and there. And then king\nArthur sent out many knights of the Table Round. And Sir Palamides was\never in the foremost front. And Sir Tristram did so strongly well that\nthe king and all other had marvel. And then the king let blow to\nlodging. And because Sir Palamides began first, and never he went nor\nrode out of the field to repose, but ever he was doing marvellously\nwell, either on foot or on horseback, and longest enduring, king Arthur\nand all the kings gave Sir Palamides the honour and the gree as for\nthat day. Then Sir Tristram commanded Sir Dinadan to fetch the queen La\nBeale Isoud, and bring her to his two pavilions that stood by the well.\nAnd so Dinadan did as he was commanded. But when Sir Palamides\nunderstood and wist that Sir Tristram was in the red armour, and on the\nred horse, wit ye well that he was glad, and so was Sir Gareth, and Sir\nDinadan. For they all wend that Sir Tristram had been taken prisoner.\nAnd then every knight drew to his inn. And then king Arthur and every\nknight spake of those knights. But above all men they gave Sir\nPalamides the prize, and all knights that knew Sir Palamides had wonder\nof his deeds. Sir, said Sir Launcelot unto Arthur, as for Sir\nPalamides, and he be the green knight, I dare say as for this day he is\nbest worthy to have the degree, for he reposed him never, ne never\nchanged his weeds. And he began first and longest held on. And yet well\nI wot, said Sir Launcelot, that there was a better knight than he, and\nthat shall be proved or we depart, upon pain of my life. Thus they\ntalked on either party, and so Sir Dinadan railed with Sir Tristram and\nsaid, What the devil is upon thee this day, for Sir Palamides\u2019 strength\nfeebled never this day, but ever he doubled his strength.\n_How Sir Dinadan provoked Sir Tristram to do well._\nAnd thou Sir Tristram faredst all this day as though thou hadst been\nasleep, and therefore I call thee coward. Well, Dinadan, said Sir\nTristram, I was never called coward or now, of none earthly knight, in\nmy life: and, wit thou well, sir, I call myself never the more coward\nthough Sir Launcelot gave me a fall, for I outcept him of all knights.\nAnd doubt ye not, Sir Dinadan, and Sir Launcelot have a quarrel good,\nhe is too over good for any knight that now is living; and yet of his\nsufferance, largesse, bounty, and courtesy, I call him knight peerless.\nAnd so Sir Tristram was in manner wroth with Sir Dinadan. But all this\nlanguage Sir Dinadan said because he would anger Sir Tristram, for to\ncause him to awake his spirits, and to be wroth. For well knew Sir\nDinadan that and Sir Tristram were thoroughly wroth, Sir Palamides\nshould not get the prize upon the morn. And for this intent Sir Dinadan\nsaid all this railing and language against Sir Tristram. Truly, said\nSir Palamides, as for Sir Launcelot, of his noble knighthood, courtesy,\nand prowess, and gentleness, I know not his peer: for this day, said\nSir Palamides, I did full uncourteously unto Sir Launcelot, and full\nunknightly, and full knightly and courteously he did to me again: for\nand he had been as ungentle to me as I was to him, this day I had won\nno worship. And therefore, said Palamides, I shall be Sir Launcelot\u2019s\nknight whiles my life lasteth. This talking was in the houses of kings.\nBut all kings, lords, and knights said, of clear knighthood and pure\nstrength, of bounty, and courtesy, Sir Launcelot and Sir Tristram bare\nthe prize above all knights that ever were in Arthur\u2019s days. And there\nwere never knights in Arthur\u2019s days did half so many deeds as they did:\nas the book saith, no ten knights did not half the deeds that they did;\nand there was never knight in their days that required Sir Launcelot or\nSir Tristram of any quest, so it were not to their shame, but they\nperformed their desire.\n_How king Arthur and Sir Launcelot came to see La Beale Isoud, and how\n Palamides smote down king Arthur._\nSo on the morn Sir Launcelot departed, and Sir Tristram was ready, and\nLa Beale Isoud with Sir Palamides and Sir Gareth. And so they rode all\nin green, full freshly beseen, unto the forest. And Sir Tristram left\nSir Dinadan sleeping in his bed. And so as they rode, it happed the\nking and Launcelot stood in a window, and saw Sir Tristram ride and\nIsoud. Sir, said Sir Launcelot, yonder rideth the fairest lady of the\nworld, except your queen dame Guenever. Who is that? said Sir Arthur.\nSir, said he, it is queen Isoud, that, out-taken my lady your queen,\nshe is matchless. Take your horse, said Arthur, and array you at all\nrights, as I will do, and I promise you, said the king, I will see her.\nThen anon they were armed and horsed, and either took a spear and rode\nunto the forest. Sir, said Launcelot, it is not good that ye go too\nnigh them, for wit ye well there are two as good knights as now are\nliving; and therefore, Sir, I pray you be not too hasty. For\nperadventure there will be some knights be displeased and we come\nsuddenly upon them. As for that, said Arthur, I will see her, for I\ntake no force whom I grieve. Sir, said Launcelot, ye put yourself in\ngreat jeopardy. As for that, said the king, we will take the adventure.\nRight so anon the king rode even to her, and saluted her, and said, God\nyou save. Sir, said she, ye are welcome. Then the king beheld her, and\nliked her wonderly well. With that came Sir Palamides unto Arthur and\nsaid, Uncourteous knight, what seeketh thou here? Thou art uncourteous,\nto come upon a lady thus suddenly; therefore withdraw thee. Sir Arthur\ntook none heed of Sir Palamides\u2019 words, but ever he looked still upon\nqueen Isoud. Then was Sir Palamides wroth, and therewith he took a\nspear and came hurtling upon king Arthur, and smote him down with a\nspear. When Sir Launcelot saw that despite of Sir Palamides, he said to\nhimself, I am loth to have ado with yonder knight, and not for his own\nsake but for Sir Tristram. And one thing I am sure of, if I smite down\nSir Palamides I must have ado with Sir Tristram, and that were over\nmuch for me to match them both, for they are two noble knights:\nnotwithstanding, whether I live or die, needs must I revenge my lord,\nand so will I whatsoever befal of me. And therewith Sir Launcelot cried\nto Sir Palamides, Keep thee from me! And then Sir Launcelot and Sir\nPalamides rashed together with two spears strongly. But Sir Launcelot\nsmote Sir Palamides so hard that he went quite out of his saddle, and\nhad a great fall. When Sir Tristram saw Sir Palamides have that fall,\nhe said to Sir Launcelot, Sir knight keep thee, for I must just with\nthee. As for to just with me, said Sir Launcelot, I will not fail you\nfor no dread I have of you, but I am loth to have ado with you and I\nmight choose: for I will that ye wit that I must revenge my special\nlord, that was unhorsed unwarily and unknightly. And therefore, though\nI have revenged that fall, take ye no displeasure therein, for he is to\nme such a friend that I may not see him shamed. Anon Sir Tristram\nunderstood by his person and by his knightly words that it was Sir\nLauncelot du Lake, and verily Sir Tristram deemed that it was king\nArthur, he that Sir Palamides had smitten down.\nAnd then Sir Tristram put his spear from him, and put Sir Palamides\nagain on horseback; and Sir Launcelot put king Arthur on horseback, and\nso departed. Truly, said Sir Tristram unto Palamides, ye did not\nworshipfully when ye smote down that knight so suddenly as ye did. And\nwit ye well ye did yourself great shame: for the knights came hither of\ntheir gentleness to see a fair lady, and that is every good knight\u2019s\npart to behold a fair lady, and ye had not ado to play such masteries\nafore my lady. Wit thou well it will turn to anger, for he that ye\nsmote down was king Arthur, and that other was the good knight Sir\nLauncelot. But I shall not forget the words of Sir Launcelot, when that\nhe called him a man of great worship: thereby I wist that it was king\nArthur. And as for Sir Launcelot, and there had been five hundred\nknights in the meadow he would not have refused them, and yet he said\nhe would refuse me: by that again I wist that it was Sir Launcelot, for\never he forbeareth me in every place, and sheweth me great kindness;\nand of all knights\u2014I out-take none, say what men will say\u2014he beareth\nthe flower of all chivalry, say it him whosoever will, and he be well\nangered, and that him list to do his utterance without any favour, I\nknow him not on live but Sir Launcelot is over hard for him, be it on\nhorseback or on foot. I may never believe, said Sir Palamides, that\nking Arthur will ride so privily as a poor errant knight. Ah, said Sir\nTristram, ye know not my lord Arthur, for all knights may learn to be a\nknight of him. And therefore ye may be sorry, said Sir Tristram, of\nyour unkindly deeds to so noble a king. And a thing that is done may\nnot be undone, said Sir Palamides. Then Sir Tristram sent queen Isoud\nunto her lodging in the priory, there to behold all the tournament.\n_How the second day Palamides forsook Sir Tristram, and went to the\n contrary part against him._\nThen there was a cry unto all knights, that when they heard an horn\nblow they should make justs as they did the first day. And like as the\nbrethren Sir Edward and Sir Sadok began the justs the first day, Sir\nUwaine, the king\u2019s son Urein, and Sir Lucanere de Buttelere, began the\njusts the second day. And at the first encounter Sir Uwaine smote down\nthe king\u2019s son of Scots, and Sir Lucanere ran against the king of\nWales, and they brake their spears all to pieces, and they were so\nfierce both, that they hurtled together that both fell to the earth.\nThen they of Orkney horsed again Sir Lucanere. And then came in Sir\nTristram de Liones; and then Sir Tristram smote down Sir Uwaine and Sir\nLucanere; and Sir Palamides smote down other two knights; and Sir\nGareth smote down other two knights. Then said Sir Arthur unto Sir\nLauncelot, See yonder three knights do passing well, and namely the\nfirst that justed. Sir, said Launcelot, that knight began not yet, but\nye shall see him this day do marvellously. And then came into the place\nthe duke\u2019s son of Orkney, and then they began to do many deeds of arms.\nWhen Sir Tristram saw them so begin, he said to Palamides, How feel ye\nyourself? may ye do this day as ye did yesterday? Nay, said Palamides,\nI feel myself so weary and so sore bruised of the deeds of yesterday,\nthat I may not endure as I did yesterday. That me repenteth, said Sir\nTristram, for I shall lack you this day. Sir Palamides said, Trust not\nto me, for I may not do as I did. All these words said Palamides for to\nbeguile Sir Tristram. Sir, said Sir Tristram unto Sir Gareth, then must\nI trust upon you; wherefore I pray you be not far from me to rescue me.\nAnd need be, said Gareth, I shall not fail you in all that I may do.\nThen Sir Palamides rode by himself, and then in despite of Sir Tristram\nhe put himself in the thickest press among them of Orkney: and there he\ndid so marvellous deeds of arms that all men had wonder of him, for\nthere might none stand him a stroke. When Sir Tristram saw Sir\nPalamides do such deeds he marvelled, and said to himself, He is weary\nof my company. So Sir Tristram beheld him a great while, and did but\nlittle else, for the noise and cry was so huge and great that Sir\nTristram marvelled from whence came the strength that Sir Palamides had\nthere in the field. Sir, said Sir Gareth unto Sir Tristram, remember ye\nnot of the words that Sir Dinadan said to you yesterday, when he called\nyou coward? For sooth, Sir, he said it for none ill; for ye are the man\nin the world that he most loveth, and all that he said was for your\nworship. And therefore, said Sir Gareth to Sir Tristram, let me know\nthis day what ye be; and wonder ye not so upon Sir Palamides, for he\nenforceth himself to win all the worship and honour from you. I may\nwell believe it, said Sir Tristram, and since I understand his evil\nwill and his envy ye shall see, if that I enforce myself, that the\nnoise shall be left that now is upon him.\nThen Sir Tristram rode into the thickest of the press, and then he did\nso marvellously well, and did so great deeds of arms, that all men said\nthat Sir Tristram did double so much deeds of arms that Sir Palamides\nhad done aforehand. And then the noise went plain from Sir Palamides,\nand all the people cried upon Sir Tristram. See, said the people, how\nSir Tristram smiteth down with his spear so many knights. And see, said\nthey all, how many knights he smiteth down with his sword, and of how\nmany knights he rashed off their helms and their shields. And so he\nbeat them all of Orkney afore him. How now, said Sir Launcelot unto\nking Arthur, I told you that this day there would a knight play his\npageant. Yonder rideth a knight ye may see he doth knightly, for he\nhath strength and wind. Truly, said Arthur to Launcelot, ye say sooth,\nfor I saw never a better knight, for he passeth far Sir Palamides. Sir,\nwit ye well, said Launcelot, it must be so of right, for it is himself\nthat noble knight Sir Tristram. I may right well believe it, said\nArthur. But when Sir Palamides heard the noise and the cry was turned\nfrom him he rode out on a part, and beheld Sir Tristram. And when Sir\nPalamides saw Sir Tristram do so marvellously well, he wept passingly\nsore for despite, for he wist well he should no worship win that day.\nFor well knew Sir Palamides, when Sir Tristram would put forth his\nstrength and his manhood, he should get but little worship that day.\n_How Sir Tristram departed out of the field, and awaked Sir Dinadan,\n and changed his array into black._\nThen came king Arthur, and the king of Northgalis, and Sir Launcelot du\nLake, and Sir Bleoberis, Sir Bors de Ganis, Sir Ector de Maris, these\nthree knights came into the field with Sir Launcelot. And then Sir\nLauncelot with the three knights of his kin did so great deeds of arms,\nthat all the noise began upon Sir Launcelot. And so they beat the king\nof Wales and the king of Scots far aback, and made them to avoid the\nfield. But Sir Tristram and Sir Gareth abode still in the field, and\nendured all that ever there came, that all men had wonder that any\nknight might endure so many strokes. But ever Sir Launcelot and his\nthree kinsmen, by the commandment of Sir Launcelot, forbare Sir\nTristram. Then said Sir Arthur, Is that Sir Palamides that endureth so\nwell? Nay, said Sir Launcelot, wit ye well it is the good knight Sir\nTristram, for yonder ye may see Sir Palamides beholdeth, and hoveth,\nand doth little or nought. And, sir, ye shall understand that Sir\nTristram weeneth this day to beat us all out of the field. And as for\nme, said Sir Launcelot, I shall not beat him, beat him who so will.\nSir, said Launcelot unto Arthur, ye may see how Sir Palamides hoveth\nyonder as though he were in a dream; wit ye well he is full heavy that\nTristram doth such deeds of arms. Then is he but a fool, said Arthur,\nfor never was Sir Palamides, nor never shall be, of such prowess as Sir\nTristram. And if he have any envy at Sir Tristram, and cometh in with\nhim upon his side, he is a false knight. As the king and Sir Launcelot\nthus spake, Sir Tristram rode privily out of the press, that none\nespied him but La Beale Isoud and Sir Palamides, for they two would not\nlet of their eyes upon Sir Tristram.\nAnd when Sir Tristram came to his pavilions, he found Sir Dinadan in\nhis bed asleep. Awake, said Tristram, ye ought to be ashamed so to\nsleep, when knights have ado in the field. Then Sir Dinadan arose\nlightly, and said, What will ye that I shall do? Make you ready, said\nSir Tristram, to ride with me into the field. So when Sir Dinadan was\narmed he looked upon Sir Tristram\u2019s helm and on his shield, and when he\nsaw so many strokes upon his helm and upon his shield, he said, In good\ntime was I thus asleep; for had I been with you I must needs for shame\nthere have followed you, more for shame than any prowess that is in me,\nthat I see well now by those strokes, that I should have been truly\nbeaten as I was yesterday. Leave your jests, said Sir Tristram, and\ncome off, that we were in the field again. What, said Sir Dinadan, is\nyour heart up? Yesterday ye fared as though ye had dreamed. So then Sir\nTristram was arrayed in black harness. Oh, said Sir Dinadan, what\naileth you this day? me seemeth ye be wilder than ye were yesterday.\nThen smiled Sir Tristram, and said to Dinadan, Await well upon me: if\nye see me over-matched look that ye be ever behind me, and I shall make\nyou ready way. So Sir Tristram and Sir Dinadan took their horses. All\nthis espied Sir Palamides, both their going and their coming, and so\ndid La Beale Isoud, for she knew Sir Tristram above all other.\n_How Sir Palamides changed his shield and his armour for to hurt Sir\n Tristram, and how Sir Launcelot did to Sir Tristram._\nThen when Sir Palamides saw that Sir Tristram was disguised, then he\nthought to do him a shame. So Sir Palamides rode to a knight that was\nsore wounded, that sat under a fair well from the field. Sir knight,\nsaid Sir Palamides, I pray you to lend me your armour and your shield,\nfor mine is over well known in this field, and that hath done me great\ndamage, and ye shall have mine armour and my shield, that is as sure as\nyours. I will well, said the knight, that ye have mine armour and my\nshield, if they may do you any avail. So Sir Palamides armed him\nhastily in that knight\u2019s armour, and his shield that shone as any\ncrystal or silver, and so he came riding into the field. And then there\nwas neither Sir Tristram nor none of king Arthur\u2019s party that knew Sir\nPalamides. And right so as Sir Palamides was come into the field Sir\nTristram smote down three knights, even in the sight of Sir Palamides.\nAnd then Sir Palamides rode against Sir Tristram, and either met other\nwith great spears, that they brast to their hands. And then they dashed\ntogether with swords eagerly. Then Sir Tristram had marvel what knight\nhe was that did battle so knightly with him. Then was Sir Tristram\nwroth, for he felt him passing strong, so that he deemed he might not\nhave ado with the remnant of the knights, because of the strength of\nSir Palamides. So they lashed together, and gave many sad strokes\ntogether, and many knights marvelled what knight he might be that so\nencountered with the black knight, Sir Tristram. Full well knew La\nBeale Isoud that there was Sir Palamides that fought with Sir Tristram,\nfor she espied all in her window where that she stood, as Sir Palamides\nchanged his harness with the wounded knight. And then she began to weep\nso heartily for the despite of Sir Palamides that there she swooned.\nThen came in Sir Launcelot with the knights of Orkney; and when the\nother party had espied Sir Launcelot they cried, Return, return, here\ncometh Sir Launcelot du Lake. So there came knights and said, Sir\nLauncelot, ye must needs fight with yonder knight in the black harness\n(that was Sir Tristram), for he hath almost overcome that good knight\nthat fighteth with him with the silver shield (that was Sir Palamides).\nThen Sir Launcelot rode betwixt Sir Tristram and Sir Palamides, and Sir\nLauncelot said to Palamides, Sir knight, let me have the battle, for ye\nhave need to be reposed. Sir Palamides knew Sir Launcelot well, and so\ndid Sir Tristram. But because Sir Launcelot was a far hardier knight\nthan himself therefore he was glad, and suffered Sir Launcelot to fight\nwith Sir Tristram. For well wist he that Sir Launcelot knew not Sir\nTristram, and there he hoped that Sir Launcelot should beat or shame\nSir Tristram, whereof Sir Palamides was full fain. And so Sir Launcelot\ngave Sir Tristram many sad strokes, but Sir Launcelot knew not Sir\nTristram, but Sir Tristram knew well Sir Launcelot. And thus they\nfought long together, that La Beale Isoud was well out of her mind for\nsorrow. Then Sir Dinadan told Sir Gareth how that knight in the black\nharness was Sir Tristram, and this is Launcelot that fighteth with him,\nthat must needs have the better of him, for Sir Tristram hath had too\nmuch travail this day. Then let us smite him down, said Sir Gareth. So\nit is better that we do, said Sir Dinadan, than Sir Tristram be shamed.\nFor yonder hoveth the strong knight with the silver shield to fall upon\nSir Tristram if need be. Then forthwithal Gareth rushed upon Sir\nLauncelot, and gave him a great stroke upon his helm so hard that he\nwas astonied. And then came Sir Dinadan with a spear, and he smote Sir\nLauncelot such a buffet that horse and all fell to the earth. Alas,\nsaid Sir Tristram to Sir Gareth and Sir Dinadan, fie for shame, why did\nye smite down so good a knight as he is, and namely when I had ado with\nhim? Now ye do yourself great shame, and him no dis-worship: for I held\nhim reasonable hot though ye had not holpen me. Then came Sir Palamides\nthat was disguised, and smote down Sir Dinadan from his horse. Then Sir\nLauncelot, because Sir Dinadan had smitten him aforehand, then Sir\nLauncelot assailed Sir Dinadan passing sore, and Sir Dinadan defended\nhim mightily. But well understood Sir Tristram that Sir Dinadan might\nnot endure Sir Launcelot, wherefore Sir Tristram was sorry. Then came\nSir Palamides fresh upon Sir Tristram. And when Sir Tristram saw him\ncome, he thought to deliver him at once, because that he would help Sir\nDinadan, because he stood in great peril with Sir Launcelot. Then Sir\nTristram hurtled unto Sir Palamides, and gave him a great buffet, and\nthen Sir Tristram gat Sir Palamides, and pulled him down underneath\nhim. And so fell Sir Tristram with him, and Sir Tristram lept up\nlightly, and left Sir Palamides, and went betwixt Sir Launcelot and\nDinadan, and then they began to do battle together. Right so Sir\nDinadan gat Sir Tristram\u2019s horse, and said on high, that Sir Launcelot\nmight hear it, My lord Sir Tristram, take your horse. And when Sir\nLauncelot heard him name Sir Tristram, Alas, said Sir Launcelot, what\nhave I done? I am dishonoured. Ah, my lord Sir Tristram, said\nLauncelot, why were ye disguised? ye have put yourself in great peril\nthis day. But, I pray you, noble knight, to pardon me, for and I had\nknown you we had not done this battle. Sir, said Sir Tristram, this is\nnot the first kindness ye shewed me. So they were both horsed again.\nThen all the people on the one side gave Sir Launcelot the honour and\nthe degree, and on the other side all the people gave to the noble\nknight Sir Tristram the honour and the degree. But Launcelot said nay\nthereto:\u2014For I am not worthy to have this honour, for I will report me\nunto all knights that Sir Tristram hath been longer in the field than\nI, and he hath smitten down many more knights this day than I have\ndone; and therefore I will give Sir Tristram my voice and my name, and\nso I pray all my lords and fellows so to do. Then there was the whole\nvoice of dukes and earls, barons and knights, that Sir Tristram this\nday is proved the best knight.\n_How Sir Tristram departed with La Beale Isoud, and how Palamides\n followed and excused him._\nThen they blew unto lodging, and queen Isoud was led unto her\npavilions. But wit you well she was wroth out of measure with Sir\nPalamides, for she saw all his treason from the beginning to the\nending. And all this while neither Sir Tristram, neither Sir Gareth,\nnor Dinadan, knew not of the treason of Sir Palamides. But afterward ye\nshall hear that there befel the greatest debate betwixt Sir Tristram\nand Sir Palamides that might be. So when the tournament was done, Sir\nTristram, Gareth, and Dinadan rode with La Beale Isoud to these\npavilions. And ever Sir Palamides rode with them in their company\ndisguised as he was. But when Sir Tristram had espied him, that he was\nthe same knight with the shield of silver that held him so hot that\nday, Sir knight, said Sir Tristram, wit you well here is none that hath\nneed of your fellowship, and therefore I pray you depart from us. Sir\nPalamides answered again, as though he had not known Sir Tristram, Wit\nye well, sir knight, from this fellowship will I never depart, for one\nof the best knights of the world commanded me to be in this company,\nand till he discharge me of my service I will not be discharged. By\nthat Sir Tristram knew that it was Sir Palamides. Ah Sir Palamides,\nsaid the noble knight Sir Tristram, are ye such a knight? Ye have been\nnamed wrong, for ye have long been called a gentle knight, and as this\nday ye have shewed me great ungentleness, for ye had almost brought me\nunto my death. But as for you I suppose I should have done well enough,\nbut Sir Launcelot with you was overmuch, for I know no knight living\nbut Sir Launcelot is over good for him, and he will do his uttermost.\nAlas, said Sir Palamides, are ye my lord Sir Tristram? Yea, sir, and\nthat ye know well enough. By my knighthood, said Palamides, until now I\nknew you not, for I wend that ye had been the king of Ireland, for well\nI wot that ye bare his arms. His arms I bare, said Sir Tristram, and\nthat will I stand by, for I won them once in a field of a full noble\nknight, his name was Sir Marhaus, and with great pain I won that\nknight, for there was none other recover, but Sir Marhaus died through\nfalse leeches, and yet was he never yielden to me. Sir, said Palamides,\nI wend ye had been turned upon Sir Launcelot\u2019s party, and that caused\nme to turn. Ye say well, said Sir Tristram, and so I take you, and I\nforgive you. So then they rode into their pavilions, and when they were\nalight they unarmed them, and washed their faces and hands, and so went\nto meat, and were set at their table. But when Isoud saw Sir Palamides\nshe changed then her colours, and for wrath she might not speak. Anon\nSir Tristram espied her countenance, and said, Madam, for what cause\nmake ye us such cheer? we have been sore travailed this day. Mine own\nlord, said La Beale Isoud, be ye not displeased with me, for I may none\notherwise do, for I saw this day how ye were betrayed, and nigh brought\nto your death. Truly, sir, I saw every deal, how, and in what wise; and\ntherefore, sir, how should I suffer in your presence such a felon and\ntraitor as Sir Palamides. For I saw him with mine eyes how he beheld\nyou when ye went out of the field. For ever he hoved still upon his\nhorse till he saw you come in againward. And then forthwithal I saw him\nride to the hurt knight, and change harness with him, and then straight\nI saw him how he rode into the field. And anon as he had found you he\nencountered with you, and thus wilfully Sir Palamides did battle with\nyou, and as for him, sir, I was not greatly afeard, but I dread sore\nLauncelot, that knew you not. Madam, said Palamides, ye may say what so\nye will, I may not contrary you, but by my knighthood I knew not Sir\nTristram. Sir Palamides, said Sir Tristram, I will take your excuse,\nbut well I wot ye spared me but little, but all is pardoned on my part.\nThen La Beale Isoud held down her head, and said no more at that time.\n_How king Arthur and Sir Launcelot came into their pavilions as they\n sat at supper; and of Palamides._\nAnd therewithal two knights armed came unto the pavilion, and there\nthey alight both, and came in armed at all pieces. Fair knights, said\nSir Tristram, ye are to blame to come thus armed at all pieces upon me\nwhile we are at our meat. If ye would anything, when we were in the\nfield there might ye have eased your hearts. Not so, said the one of\nthose knights, we come not for that intent; but wit ye well, Sir\nTristram, we be come hither as your friends. And I am come here, said\nthe one, for to see you, and this knight is come for to see La Beale\nIsoud. Then, said Sir Tristram, I require you do off your helms, that I\nmay see you. That will we do at your desire, said the knights. And when\ntheir helms were off, Sir Tristram thought he should know them. Then\nsaid Sir Dinadan privily unto Sir Tristram, Sir, that is Sir Launcelot\ndu Lake that spake unto you first, and the other is my lord king\nArthur. Then said Sir Tristram unto La Beale Isoud, Madam, arise, for\nhere is my lord king Arthur. Then the king and the queen kissed, and\nSir Launcelot and Sir Tristram braced either other in arms, and then\nthere was joy without measure, and at the request of La Beale Isoud\nking Arthur and Launcelot were unarmed. And then there was merry\ntalking.\nMadam, said Sir Arthur, it is many a day sithen that I have desired to\nsee you. For ye have been praised so far, and now I dare say ye are the\nfairest that ever I saw; and Sir Tristram is as fair and as good a\nknight as any that I know, therefore me beseemeth ye are well beset\ntogether. Sir, I thank you, said the noble knight Sir Tristram, and\nIsoud; of your great goodness and largesse ye are peerless. Thus they\ntalked of many things, and of all the whole justs. But for what cause,\nsaid king Arthur, were ye, Sir Tristram, against us? Ye are a knight of\nthe Table Round; of right ye should have been with us. Sir, said Sir\nTristram, here is Dinadan and Sir Gareth your own nephew caused me to\nbe against you. My lord Arthur, said Gareth, I may well bear the blame,\nbut it were Sir Tristram\u2019s own deeds. That may I repent, said Sir\nDinadan, for this unhappy Sir Tristram brought us to this tournament,\nand many great buffets he caused us to have. Then the king and\nLauncelot laughed that they might not sit. What knight was that, said\nArthur, that held you so short, this with the shield of silver? Sir,\nsaid Sir Tristram, here he sitteth at this board. What, said Arthur,\nwas it Sir Palamides? Wit ye well it was he, said La Beale Isoud.\nTruly, said Arthur, that was unknightly done of you of so good a\nknight, for I have heard many people call you a courteous knight. Sir,\nsaid Palamides I knew not Sir Tristram, for he was so disguised. Truly,\nsaid Launcelot, it may well be, for I knew not Sir Tristram, but I\nmarvel why ye turned on our party. That was done for the same cause,\nsaid Launcelot. As for that, said Sir Tristram, I have pardoned him,\nand I would be right loth to leave his fellowship, for I love right\nwell his company. So they left off, and talked of other things. And in\nthe evening king Arthur and Sir Launcelot departed unto their lodging.\nBut wit ye well Sir Palamides had envy heartily, for all that night he\nhad never rest in his bed, but wailed and wept out of measure. So on\nthe morn Sir Tristram, Gareth, and Dinadan arose early, and then they\nwent unto Sir Palamides\u2019 chamber, and there they found him fast on\nsleep, for he had all night watched. And it was seen upon his cheeks\nthat he had wept full sore. Say nothing, said Sir Tristram, for I am\nsure he hath taken anger and sorrow for the rebuke that I gave to him,\nand La Beale Isoud.\n_How Sir Tristram and Sir Palamides did the next day, and how king\n Arthur was unhorsed._\nThen Sir Tristram let call Sir Palamides, and bade him make him ready,\nfor it was time to go to the field. When they were ready they were\narmed and clothed all in red, both Isoud and all they. And so they led\nher passing freshly through the field, into the priory where was her\nlodging. And then they heard three blasts blow, and every king and\nknight dressed him unto the field; and the first that was ready to just\nwas Sir Palamides and Sir Kainus le Strange, a knight of the Table\nRound. And so they two encountered together, but Sir Palamides smote\nSir Kainus so hard, that he smote him quite over his horse croup: and\nforth withal Sir Palamides smote down another knight, and brake then\nhis spear, and pulled out his sword and did wonderly well. And then the\nnoise began greatly upon Sir Palamides. Lo, said king Arthur, yonder\nPalamides beginneth to play his pageant. Truly, said Arthur, he is a\npassing good knight. And right as they stood talking thus, in came Sir\nTristram as thunder, and he encountered Sir Kay the seneschal, and\nthere he smote him down quite from his horse, and with that same spear\nSir Tristram smote down three knights more; and then he pulled out his\nsword and did marvellously. Then the noise and cry changed from Sir\nPalamides and turned to Sir Tristram, and all the people cried, O\nTristram! O Tristram! And then was Sir Palamides clean forgotten. How\nnow, said Launcelot unto Arthur, yonder rideth a knight that playeth\nhis pageants. Truly, said Arthur to Launcelot, ye shall see this day\nthat yonder two knights shall here do this day wonders. Sir, said\nLauncelot, the one knight waiteth upon the other, and enforceth himself\nthrough envy to pass the noble knight Sir Tristram, and he knoweth not\nof the privy envy the which Sir Palamides hath to him. For all that the\nnoble Sir Tristram doth is through clean knighthood. And then Sir\nGareth and Dinadan did wonderly great deeds of arms as two noble\nknights, so that king Arthur spake of them great honour and worship;\nand the kings and knights of Sir Tristram\u2019s side did passing well, and\nheld them truly together. Then Sir Arthur and Sir Launcelot took their\nhorses and dressed them, and gat into the thickest of the press. And\nthere Sir Tristram unknowing smote down king Arthur, and then Sir\nLauncelot would have rescued him, but there were so many upon Sir\nLauncelot that they pulled him down from his horse. And then the king\nof Ireland and the king of Scots, with their knights, did their pain to\ntake king Arthur and Sir Launcelot prisoner. When Sir Launcelot heard\nthem say so, he fared as it had been an hungry lion, for he fared so\nthat no knight durst nigh him. Then came Sir Ector de Maris, and he\nbare a spear against Sir Palamides, and brake it upon him all to\nshivers. And then Sir Ector came again, and gave Sir Palamides such a\ndash with a sword that he stooped down upon his saddle-bow. And forth\nwithal Sir Ector pulled down Sir Palamides under his feet. And then Sir\nEctor de Maris gat Sir Launcelot du Lake an horse, and brought it to\nhim, and bad him mount upon him. But Sir Palamides lept afore, and gat\nthe horse by the bridle, and lept into the saddle. Truly, said\nLauncelot, ye are better worthy to have that horse than I. Then Sir\nEctor brought Sir Launcelot another horse. Gramercy, said Launcelot\nunto his brother. And so when he was horsed again, with one spear he\nsmote down four knights. And then Sir Launcelot brought to king Arthur\none of the best of the four horses. Then Sir Launcelot with king Arthur\nand a few of his knights of Sir Launcelot\u2019s kin, did marvellous deeds;\nfor that time, as the book recordeth, Sir Launcelot smote down and\npulled down thirty knights. Notwithstanding, the other part held them\nso fast together that king Arthur and his knights were overmatched. And\nwhen Sir Tristram saw that, what labour king Arthur and his knights, in\nespecial the noble deeds that Sir Launcelot did with his own hands, he\nmarvelled greatly.\n_How Sir Tristram turned to king Arthur\u2019s side, and how Sir Palamides\n would not._\nThen Sir Tristram called unto him Sir Palamides, Sir Gareth, and Sir\nDinadan, and said thus to them, My fair fellows, wit ye well that I\nwill turn unto king Arthur\u2019s party, for I saw never so few men do so\nwell, and it will be shame unto us knights that be of the Round Table\nto see our lord king Arthur, and that noble knight Sir Launcelot, to be\ndishonoured. It will be well done, said Sir Gareth and Sir Dinadan. Do\nyour best, said Palamides, for I will not change my party that I came\nin withal. That is for my sake, said Sir Tristram: speed you well in\nyour journey. And so departed Sir Palamides from them. Then Sir\nTristram, Sir Gareth, and Sir Dinadan, turned with Sir Launcelot. And\nthen Sir Launcelot smote down the king of Ireland quite from his horse;\nand so Sir Launcelot smote down the king of Scots, and the king of\nWales. And then Sir Arthur ran unto Sir Palamides, and smote him quite\nfrom his horse. And then Sir Tristram bare down all that he met. Sir\nGareth and Sir Dinadan did there as noble knights. Then all the parties\nbegan to flee. Alas, said Palamides, that ever I should see this day,\nfor now have I lost all the worship that I wan. And then Sir Palamides\nwent his way wailing, and so withdrew him till he came to a well, and\nthere he put his horse from him, and did off his armour, and wailed and\nwept like as he had been a wood man.\nThen many knights gave the prize to Sir Tristram, and there were many\nthat gave the prize unto Sir Launcelot. Fair lords, said Sir Tristram,\nI thank you of the honour ye would give me, but I pray you heartily\nthat ye would give your voice to Sir Launcelot, for by my faith, said\nSir Tristram, I will give Sir Launcelot my voice. But Sir Launcelot\nwould not have it. And so the prize was given betwixt them both. Then\nevery man rode to his lodging. And Sir Bleoberis and Sir Ector rode\nwith Sir Tristram and La Beale Isoud unto her pavilions. Then as Sir\nPalamides was at the well, wailing and weeping, there came by him\nfleeing the king of Wales, and of Scotland, and they saw Sir Palamides\nin that rage. Alas, said they, that so noble a man as ye be should be\nin this array. And then those kings gat Sir Palamides\u2019 horse again, and\nmade him to arm him and mount upon his horse, and so he rode with them,\nmaking great dole. So when Sir Palamides came nigh the pavilions there\nas Sir Tristram and La Beale Isoud were in, then Sir Palamides prayed\nthe two kings to abide him there the while that he spake with Sir\nTristram. And when he came to the port of the pavilions, Sir Palamides\nsaid on high, Where art thou, Sir Tristram de Liones? Sir, said\nDinadan, that is Palamides. What, Sir Palamides, will ye not come in\nhere among us? Fie on thee traitor, said Sir Palamides, for wit you\nwell, and it were daylight as it is night, I would slay thee with mine\nown hands. And if ever I may get thee, said Palamides, thou shalt die\nfor this day\u2019s deed. Sir Palamides, said Sir Tristram, ye blame me with\nwrong, for had ye done as I did ye had won worship. But since ye give\nme so large warning I shall be well ware of you. Fie on thee traitor,\nsaid Palamides, and therewith departed. Then on the morn Sir Tristram,\nBleoberis, and Sir Ector de Maris, Sir Gareth, Sir Dinadan, what by\nwater and what by land, they brought La Beale Isoud unto Joyous Gard,\nand there reposed them a seven night, and made all the mirths and\ndisports that they could devise. And king Arthur and his knights drew\nunto Camelot, and Sir Palamides rode with the two kings; and ever he\nmade the greatest dole that any man could think. For he was not all\nonly so dolorous for the departing from La Beale Isoud, but he was a\npart as sorrowful to depart from the fellowship of Sir Tristram, for\nSir Tristram was so kind and so gentle that when Sir Palamides\nremembered him thereof he might never be merry.\n_How Sir Bleoberis and Sir Ector reported to queen Guenever of the\n beauty of La Beale Isoud._\nSo at the seven night\u2019s end Sir Bleoberis and Sir Ector departed from\nSir Tristram and from the queen, and these two good knights had great\ngifts, and Sir Gareth and Sir Dinadan abode with Sir Tristram. And when\nSir Bleoberis and Sir Ector were come there as the queen Guenever was\nlodged in a castle by the sea side, and through the grace of God the\nqueen was recovered from her malady, then she asked the two knights\nfrom whence they came. They said they came from Sir Tristram and from\nLa Beale Isoud. How doth Sir Tristram, said the queen, and La Beale\nIsoud? Truly, said those two knights, he doth as a noble knight should\ndo, and as for the queen Isoud, she is peerless of all ladies; for to\nspeak of her beauty, bounty, and mirth, and of her goodness, we saw\nnever her match as far as we have ridden and gone. Oh mercy, said queen\nGuenever, so saith all the people that have seen her and spoken with\nher. Would that I had part of her conditions. And it is misfortuned me\nof my sickness while that tournament endured; and, as I suppose, I\nshall never see in all my life such an assembly of knights and ladies\nas ye have done. Then the knights told her how Sir Palamides wan the\ndegree at the first day with great noblesse; and the second day Sir\nTristram wan the degree; and the third day Sir Launcelot wan the\ndegree. Well, said queen Guenever, who did best all these three days?\nTruly, said these knights, Sir Launcelot and Sir Tristram had least\ndishonour. And wit ye well Sir Palamides did passing well and mightily,\nbut he turned against the party that he came in withal, and that caused\nhim to lose a great part of his worship, for it seemed that Sir\nPalamides is passing envious. Then shall he never win worship, said\nqueen Guenever, for, and it happeth an envious man once to win worship,\nhe shall be dishonoured twice therefore. And for this cause all men of\nworship hate an envious man, and will shew him no favour. And he that\nis courteous, kind, and gentle, hath favour in every place.\n_How Sir Palamides complained by a well, and how Epinogris came and\n found him, and of their both sorrows._\nNow leave we of this matter, and speak we of Sir Palamides that rode\nand lodged him with the two kings, whereof the kings were heavy. Then\nthe king of Ireland sent a man of his to Sir Palamides, and gave him a\ngreat courser. And the king of Scotland gave him great gifts, and fain\nthey would have had Sir Palamides to have abiden with them, but in no\nwise he would abide, and so he departed and rode as adventures would\nguide him, till it was nigh noon. And then in a forest by a well Sir\nPalamides saw where lay a fair wounded knight, and his horse bound by\nhim, and that knight made the greatest dole that ever he heard man\nmake, for ever he wept and sighed as though he would die. Then Sir\nPalamides rode near him, and saluted him mildly and said, Fair knight,\nwhy wail ye so? let me lie down and wail with you, for doubt ye not I\nam much more heavier than ye are; for I dare say, said Palamides, that\nmy sorrow is an hundred fold more than yours is, and therefore let us\ncomplain either to other. First, said the wounded knight, I require you\ntell me your name, for and thou be none of the noble knights of the\nRound Table thou shalt never know my name, whatsoever come of me. Fair\nknight, said Palamides, such as I am, be it better or be it worse, wit\nthou well that my name is Sir Palamides, son and heir unto king\nAstlabor, and Sir Safere and Sir Segwarides are my two brethren, and\nwit thou well as for myself I was never christened, but my two brethren\nare truly christened. Oh noble knight, said that knight, well is me\nthat I have met with you, and wit ye well my name is Epinogris, the\nking\u2019s son of Northumberland. Now sit down, said Epinogris, and let us\neither complain to other. Then Sir Palamides began his complaint. Now\nshall I tell you, said Palamides, what woe I endure. I love the fairest\nqueen and lady that ever bare life, and wit ye well her name is La\nBeale Isoud, king Mark\u2019s wife of Cornwall. That is great folly, said\nSir Epinogris, for to love queen Isoud, for one of the best knights of\nthe world loveth her, that is Sir Tristram de Liones. That is truth,\nsaid Palamides, for no man knoweth that matter better than I do, for I\nhave been in Sir Tristram\u2019s fellowship this month, and with La Beale\nIsoud together; and alas, said Palamides, unhappy man that I am, now\nhave I lost the fellowship of Sir Tristram for ever, and the love of La\nBeale Isoud for ever, and I am never like to see her more, and Sir\nTristram and I be either to other mortal enemies. Well, said Epinogris,\nsith that ye loved La Beale Isoud, loved she you ever again, by\nanything that ye could think or wit? Nay, by my knighthood, said\nPalamides, I never espied that ever she loved me more than all the\nworld. But the last day she gave me the greatest rebuke that ever I\nhad, the which shall never go from my heart, and yet I well deserved\nthat rebuke, for I had not done knightly, and therefore I have lost the\nlove of her and of Sir Tristram for ever. And I have many times\nenforced myself to do many deeds for La Beale Isoud\u2019s sake, and she was\nthe causer of my worship winning. Alas, said Sir Palamides, now have I\nlost all the worship that ever I wan, for never shall me befal such\nprowess as I had in the fellowship of Sir Tristram.\n_How Sir Palamides brought to Sir Epinogris his lady; and how Sir\n Palamides and Sir Safere were assailed._\nNay, nay, said Epinogris, your sorrow is but a jest to my sorrow, for I\nrejoiced my lady and wan her with my hands, and lost her again, alas\nthat day. Thus first I wan her, said Epinogris: my lady was an earl\u2019s\ndaughter, and as the earl and two knights came from the tournament of\nLonazep, for her sake I set upon this earl and on his two knights, my\nlady there being present, and so by fortune there I slew the earl and\none of the knights, and the other knight fled, and so I had my lady.\nAnd on the morn, as she and I reposed us at this well side, there came\nthere to me an errant knight, his name was Sir Helior le Preuse, an\nhardy knight; and this Sir Helior challenged me to fight for my lady.\nAnd then we went to battle, first upon horse and after on foot. But at\nthe last Sir Helior wounded me so that he left me for dead, and so he\ntook my lady with him. And thus my sorrow is more than yours, for I\nhave rejoiced, and ye rejoiced never. That is truth, said Sir\nPalamides, but sith I can never recover myself, I shall promise you, if\nI can meet with Sir Helior I shall get you your lady again, or else he\nshall beat me. Then Sir Palamides made Sir Epinogris to take his horse,\nand so they rode to an hermitage, and there Sir Epinogris rested him.\nAnd in the mean while Sir Palamides walked privily out, to rest him\nunder the leaves; and there beside he saw a knight come riding with a\nshield that he had seen Sir Ector de Maris bear aforehand, and there\ncame after him a ten knights, and so these ten knights hoved under the\nleaves for heat. And anon after there came a knight, with a green\nshield and therein a white lion, leading a lady upon a palfrey. Then\nthis knight with the green shield, that seemed to be master of the ten\nknights, he rode fiercely after Sir Helior; for it was he that hurt Sir\nEpinogris. And when he came nigh Sir Helior he bad him defend his lady.\nI will defend her, said Helior, unto my power. And so they ran together\nso mightily that either of these two knights smote other down, horse\nand all, to the earth, and then they wan up lightly and drew their\nswords and their shields, and lashed together mightily more than an\nhour. All this Sir Palamides saw and beheld, but ever at the last the\nknight with Sir Ector\u2019s shield was bigger, and at the last this knight\nsmote Sir Helior down, and then that knight unlaced his helm, to have\nstricken off his head. And then he cried mercy, and prayed him to save\nhis life, and bad him take his lady.\nThen Sir Palamides dressed him up, because he wist well that that same\nlady was Epinogris\u2019 lady, and he promised him to help him. Then Sir\nPalamides went straight to that lady, and took her by the hand, and\nasked her whether she knew a knight that hight Epinogris. Alas, she\nsaid, that ever he knew me, or I him, for I have for his sake lost my\nworship, and also his life grieveth me most of all. Not so, lady, said\nPalamides, come on with me, for here is Epinogris in this hermitage.\nAh, well is me, said the lady, and he be on live. Whither wilt thou\nwith that lady? said the knight with Sir Ector\u2019s shield. I will do with\nher what me list, said Palamides. Wit you well, said that knight, thou\nspeakest over large, though thou seemest me to have at advantage,\nbecause thou sawest me do battle but late. Thou weenest, sir knight, to\nhave that lady away from me so lightly; nay, think it never not, and\nthou were as good a knight as is Sir Launcelot, or as is Sir Tristram,\nor Sir Palamides, but thou shalt win her dearer than ever did I. And so\nthey went unto battle upon foot, and there they gave many sad strokes,\nand either wounded other passing sore; and thus they fought still more\nthan an hour. Then Sir Palamides had marvel what knight he might be\nthat was so strong and so well breathed during, and thus said\nPalamides: Knight, I require thee tell me thy name. Wit thou well, said\nthat knight, I dare tell thee my name, so that thou wilt tell me thy\nname. I will, said Palamides. Truly, said that knight, my name is\nSafere, son of king Astlabor, and Sir Palamides and Sir Segwarides are\nmy brethren. Now, and wit thou well my name is Sir Palamides. Then Sir\nSafere kneeled down upon his knees, and prayed him of mercy; and then\nthey unlaced their helms, and either kissed other weeping. And in the\nmean while Sir Epinogris arose out of his bed, and heard them by the\nstrokes, and so he armed him to help Sir Palamides if need were.\n_How Sir Palamides and Sir Safere conducted Sir Epinogris to his\n castle, and of other adventures._\nThen Sir Palamides took the lady by the hand and brought her to Sir\nEpinogris, and there was great joy betwixt them, for either swooned for\njoy. When they were met,\u2014Fair knight and lady, said Sir Safere, it\nwere pity to depart you, Heaven send you joy either of other. Gramercy,\ngentle knight, said Epinogris, and much more thank be to my lord Sir\nPalamides, that thus hath through his prowess made me to get my lady.\nThen Sir Epinogris required Sir Palamides and Sir Safere his brother to\nride with them unto his castle, for the safeguard of his person. Sir,\nsaid Palamides, we will be ready to conduct you, because that ye are\nsore wounded. And so was Epinogris and his lady horsed, and his lady\nbehind him, upon a soft ambler.\nAnd then they rode unto his castle, where they had great cheer, and joy\nas great as ever Sir Palamides and Sir Safere ever had in their life\ndays. So on the morn Sir Safere and Sir Palamides departed, and rode as\nfortune led them: and so they rode all that day until afternoon. And at\nthe last they heard a great weeping and a great noise down in a manor.\nSir, said then Sir Safere, let us wit what noise this is. I will well,\nsaid Sir Palamides. And so they rode forth till that they came to a\nfair gate of a manor, and there sat an old man saying his prayers and\nbeads. Then Sir Palamides and Sir Safere alight, and left their horses,\nand went within the gates, and there they saw full many goodly men\nweeping. Fair sirs, said Sir Palamides, wherefore weep ye, and make\nthis sorrow? Anon one of the knights of the castle beheld Sir Palamides\nand knew him, and then went to his fellows and said, Fair fellows, wit\nye well all, we have in this castle the same knight that slew our lord\nat Lonazep, for I know him well, it is Sir Palamides. Then they went\nunto harness all that might bear harness, some on horseback and some on\nfoot, to the number of threescore. And when they were ready, they came\nfreshly upon Sir Palamides and upon Sir Safere with a great noise, and\nsaid thus, Keep thee, Sir Palamides, for thou art known, and by right\nthou must be dead, for thou hast slain our lord, and therefore, wit ye\nwell, we will slay thee, therefore defend thee. Then Sir Palamides and\nSir Safere the one set his back to other, and gave many great strokes,\nand took many great strokes; and thus they fought with a twenty knights\nand forty gentlemen and yeomen, nigh two hours. But at the last, though\nthey were loth, Sir Palamides and Sir Safere were taken and yielden,\nand put in a strong prison. And within three days twelve knights passed\nupon them, and they found Sir Palamides guilty, and Sir Safere not\nguilty, of their lord\u2019s death. And when Sir Safere should be delivered,\nthere was great dole betwixt Sir Palamides and him, and many piteous\ncomplaints that Sir Safere made at his departing, that there is no\nmaker can rehearse the tenth part. Fair brother, said Palamides, let be\nthy dolour and thy sorrow: and if I be ordained to die a shameful\ndeath, welcome be it; but and I had wist of this death that I am doomed\nunto, I should never have been yielden. So Sir Safere departed from his\nbrother with the greatest dolour and sorrow that ever made knight. And\non the morn they of the castle ordained twelve knights to ride with Sir\nPalamides unto the father of the same knight that Sir Palamides slew;\nand so they bound his legs under an old steed\u2019s belly. And then they\nrode with Sir Palamides unto a castle by the sea side, that hight\nPelownes, and there Sir Palamides should have justice: thus was their\nordinance. And so they rode with Sir Palamides fast by the castle of\nJoyous Gard; and as they passed by that castle, there came riding out\nof that castle by them one that knew Sir Palamides; and when that\nknight saw Sir Palamides bounden upon a crooked courser, the knight\nasked Sir Palamides for what cause he was led so. Ah, my fair fellow\nand knight, said Palamides, I ride toward my death, for the slaying of\na knight at a tournament of Lonazep; and if I had not departed from my\nlord Sir Tristram, as I ought not to have done, now might I have been\nsure to have had my life saved. But I pray you, sir knight, recommand\nme unto my lord Sir Tristam, and unto my lady queen Isoud, and say to\nthem, if ever I trespassed to them I ask them forgiveness. And also, I\nbeseech you, recommand me unto my lord king Arthur, and unto all the\nfellowship of the Round Table, unto my power. Then that knight wept for\npity of Sir Palamides; and therewithal he rode unto Joyous Gard as fast\nas his horse might run. And lightly that knight descended down off his\nhorse, and went unto Sir Tristram, and there he told him all as ye have\nheard: and ever the knight wept as he had been mad.\n_How Sir Tristram made him ready to rescue Sir Palamides, but Sir\n Launcelot rescued him or he came._\nWhen Sir Tristram heard how Sir Palamides went to his death, he was\nheavy to hear that, and said, Howbeit that I am wrath with Sir\nPalamides, yet will not I suffer him to die so shameful a death, for he\nis a full noble knight. And then anon Sir Tristram was armed, and took\nhis horse, and two squires with him, and rode a great pace toward the\ncastle of Pelownes, where Sir Palamides was judged to death. And these\ntwelve knights that led Sir Palamides passed by a well whereas Sir\nLauncelot was, which was alight there, and had tied his horse to a\ntree, and taken off his helm to drink of that well; and when he saw\nthese knights, Sir Launcelot put on his helm, and suffered them to pass\nby him. And then was he ware of Sir Palamides bounden, and led\nshamefully to his death. Oh, mercy, said Launcelot, what misadventure\nis befallen him, that he is thus led toward his death? Forsooth, said\nLauncelot, it were shame to me to suffer this noble knight so to die\nand I might help him, therefore I will help him whatsoever come of it,\nor else I shall die for Sir Palamides\u2019 sake. And then Sir Launcelot\nmounted upon his horse, and gat his spear in his hand, and rode after\nthe twelve knights that led Sir Palamides. Fair knights, said Sir\nLauncelot, whither lead ye that knight? it beseemeth him full ill to\nride bounden. Then these twelve knights suddenly turned their horses,\nand said to Sir Launcelot, Sir knight, we counsel thee not to meddle\nwith this knight, for he hath deserved death, and unto death he is\njudged. That me repenteth, said Launcelot, that I may not ransom him\nwith fairness, for he is over good a knight to die such a shameful\ndeath. And therefore, fair knights, said Sir Launcelot, keep you as\nwell as ye can, for I will rescue that knight, or die for it. Then they\nbegan to dress their spears, and Sir Launcelot smote the foremost down,\nhorse and man; and so he served three more with one spear, and then\nthat spear brake; and therewithal Sir Launcelot drew his sword, and\nthen he smote on the right hand and on the left hand: then within\nawhile he left none of those twelve knights but he had laid them to the\nearth, and the most part of them were sore wounded. And then Sir\nLauncelot took the best horse that he found, and loosed Sir Palamides,\nand set him upon that horse, and so they returned again unto Joyous\nGard. And then was Sir Palamides ware of Sir Tristram how he came\nriding; and when Sir Launcelot saw him he knew him right well; but Sir\nTristram knew not him, because Sir Launcelot had on his shoulder a\ngolden shield. So Sir Launcelot made him ready to just with Sir\nTristram, that Sir Tristram should not wend that he were Sir Launcelot.\nThen Sir Palamides cried on loud unto Sir Tristram, O my lord, I\nrequire you just not with this knight, for this good knight hath saved\nme from my death. When Sir Tristram heard him say so, he came a soft\ntrotting pace toward them. And then Sir Palamides said, My lord Sir\nTristram, much am I beholding unto you of your great goodness that\nwould proffer your noble body to rescue me undeserved, for I have\ngreatly offended you. Notwithstanding, said Sir Palamides, here met we\nwith this noble knight, that worshipfully and manly rescued me from\ntwelve knights, and smote them down all, and wounded them sore.\n_How Sir Tristram and Sir Launcelot, with Palamides, came to Joyous\n Gard; and of Palamides and Sir Tristram._\nFair knight, said Sir Tristram unto Sir Launcelot, of whence be ye? I\nam a knight errant, said Sir Launcelot, that rideth to seek many\nadventures. What is your name? said Sir Tristram. Sir, at this time I\nwill not tell you. Then Sir Launcelot said unto Sir Tristram and to\nPalamides, Now either of you are met together, I will depart from you.\nNot so, said Sir Tristram, I pray you of knighthood to ride with me\nunto my castle. Wit you well, said Sir Launcelot, I may not ride with\nyou, for I have many deeds to do in other places, that at this time I\nmay not abide with you. Truly, said Sir Tristram, I require you, as ye\nbe a true knight to the order of knighthood, play you with me this\nnight. Then Sir Tristram had a grant of Sir Launcelot: howbeit, though\nhe had not desired him he would have ridden with them, or soon would\ncome after them; for Sir Launcelot came for none other cause into that\ncountry but for to see Sir Tristram. And when they were come within\nJoyous Gard they alight, and their horses were led into a stable, and\nthen they unarmed them. And when Sir Launcelot was unhelmed, Sir\nTristram and Sir Palamides knew him. Then Sir Tristram took Sir\nLauncelot in arms, and so did La Beale Isoud; and Sir Palamides kneeled\ndown upon his knees and thanked Sir Launcelot. When Sir Launcelot saw\nSir Palamides kneel, he lightly took him up, and said thus; Wit thou\nwell, Sir Palamides, I, and any knight in this land of worship, ought\nof very right succour and rescue so noble a knight as ye are proved and\nrenowned throughout all this realm, endlong and overthwart. And then\nwas there joy among them; and the oftener that Sir Palamides saw La\nBeale Isoud, the heavier he waxed day by day. Then Sir Launcelot within\nthree or four days departed; and with him rode Sir Ector de Maris: and\nDinadan and Sir Palamides were there left with Sir Tristram a two\nmonths and more. But ever Sir Palamides faded and mourned, that all men\nhad marvel wherefore he faded so away. So upon a day, in the dawning\nSir Palamides went into the forest by himself alone, and there he found\na well, and then he looked into the well, and in the water he saw his\nown visage, how he was disturbed and defaded, nothing like that he was.\nWhat may this mean? said Sir Palamides. And thus he said to himself:\nAh, Palamides, Palamides, why art thou diffaded, thou that was wont be\ncalled one of the fairest knights of the world? I will no more lead\nthis life, for I love that I may never get nor recover. And therewithal\nhe laid him down by the well. And then he began to make a rhyme of La\nBeale Isoud and him. And in the meanwhile Sir Tristram was that same\nday ridden into the forest to chase the hart of greese. But Sir\nTristram would not ride on hunting never more unarmed because of Sir\nBreuse Sance Pit\u00e9. And so as Sir Tristram rode into that forest up and\ndown, he heard one sing marvellously loud; and that was Sir Palamides,\nthat lay by the well. And then Sir Tristram rode softly thither, for he\ndeemed there was some knight errant that was at the well.\nAnd when Sir Tristram came nigh him, he descended down from his horse,\nand tied his horse fast till a tree, and then he came near him on foot.\nAnd anon he was ware where lay Sir Palamides by the well, and sang loud\nand merrily. And ever the complaints were of that noble queen La Beale\nIsoud, the which was marvellously and wonderfully well said, and full\ndolefully and piteously made. And all the whole song the noble knight\nSir Tristram heard from the beginning to the ending, the which grieved\nand troubled him sore. But then at the last, when Sir Tristram had\nheard all Sir Palamides\u2019 complaints, he was wroth out of measure, and\nthought for to slay him there as he lay. Then Sir Tristram remembered\nhimself that Sir Palamides was unarmed, and of the noble name that Sir\nPalamides had, and the noble name that himself had, and then he made a\nrestraint of his anger, and so he went unto Sir Palamides a soft pace,\nand said, Sir Palamides, I have heard your complaint, and of thy\ntreason that thou hast owed me so long. And wit thou well therefore\nthou shalt die. And if it were not for shame of knighthood thou\nshouldest not escape my hands, for now I know well thou hast awaited me\nwith treason. Tell me, said Sir Tristram, how thou wilt acquit thee.\nSir, said Palamides, thus I will acquit me:\u2014as for queen La Beale\nIsoud, ye shall wit well that I love her above all other ladies of the\nworld; and well I wot it shall befal me as for her love as befel to the\nnoble knight Sir Kehidius, that died for the love of La Beale Isoud;\nand now, Sir Tristram, I will that ye wit that I have loved La Beale\nIsoud many a day, and she hath been the causer of my worship. And else\nI had been the most simplest knight in the world. For by her, and\nbecause of her, I have won the worship that I have: for when I\nremembered me of La Beale Isoud, I wan the worship wheresoever I came,\nfor the most part; and yet had I never reward nor bounty of her the\ndays of my life, and yet have I been her knight guerdonless; and\ntherefore Sir Tristram, as for any death I dread not, for I had as lief\ndie as to live. And if I were armed as thou art, I should lightly do\nbattle with thee. Well have ye uttered your treason, said Tristram. I\nhave done to you no treason, said Sir Palamides, for love is free for\nall men, and though I have loved your lady she is my lady as well as\nyours: howbeit I have wrong if any wrong be, for ye rejoice her, and\nhave her love, and so had I never, nor never am like to have. And yet\nshall I love her to the uttermost days of my life as well as ye.\n_How there was a day set between Sir Tristram and Sir Palamides for to\n fight, and how Sir Tristram was hurt._\nThen, said Sir Tristram, I will fight with you unto the uttermost. I\ngrant, said Palamides, for in a better quarrel keep I never to fight,\nfor, and I die of your hands, of a better knight\u2019s hands may I not be\nslain. And sithen I understand that I shall never rejoice La Beale\nIsoud, I have as good will to die as to live. Then set ye a day, said\nSir Tristram, that we shall do battle. This day fifteen days, said\nPalamides, will I meet with you here by, in the meadow under Joyous\nGard. Fie for shame, said Sir Tristram, will ye set so long day? let us\nfight to-morn. Not so, said Palamides, for I am meagre, and have been\nlong sick for the love of La Beale Isoud, and therefore I will repose\nme till I have my strength again. So then Sir Tristram and Sir\nPalamides promised faithfully to meet at the well that day fifteen\ndays. I am remembered, said Sir Tristram to Palamides, that ye brake me\nonce a promise when that I rescued you from Breuse Sance Pit\u00e9 and nine\nknights, and then ye promised me to meet at the peron and the grave\nbeside Camelot, whereas at that time ye failed of your promise. Wit you\nwell, said Palamides unto Sir Tristram, I was at that day in prison, so\nthat I might not hold my promise. Truly, said Sir Tristram, and ye had\nholden your promise, this work had not been here now at this time.\nRight so departed Sir Tristram and Sir Palamides. And so Sir Palamides\ntook his horse and his harness, and he rode unto king Arthur\u2019s court,\nand there Sir Palamides gat him four knights and four serjeants of\narms, and so he returned againward unto Joyous Gard. And in the mean\nwhile Sir Tristram chased and hunted at all manner of venery, and about\nthree days afore the battle should be, as Sir Tristram chased an hart,\nthere was an archer shot at the hart, and by misfortune he smote Sir\nTristram in the thick of the thigh, and the arrow slew Sir Tristram\u2019s\nhorse, and hurt him. When Sir Tristram was so hurt, he was passing\nheavy, and wit ye well he bled sore. And then he took another horse,\nand rode unto Joyous Gard with great heaviness, more for the promise he\nhad made with Sir Palamides, as to do battle with him within three days\nafter, than for any hurt of his thigh. Wherefore there was neither man\nnor woman that could cheer him with anything that they could make to\nhim, neither queen La Beale Isoud, for ever he deemed that Sir\nPalamides had smitten him so that he should not be able to do battle\nwith him at the day set.\n_How Sir Palamides kept his day to have foughten, but Sir Tristram\n might not come; and other things._\nBut in no wise there was no knight about Sir Tristram that would\nbelieve that ever Sir Palamides would hurt Sir Tristram, neither by his\nown hands nor by none other consenting. Then when the fifteenth day was\ncome, Sir Palamides came to the well with four knights with him of\nArthur\u2019s court, and three serjeants of arms. And for this intent Sir\nPalamides brought the knights with him and the serjeants of arms, for\nthey should bear record of the battle betwixt Sir Tristram and Sir\nPalamides. And the one serjeant brought in his helm, the other his\nspear, the third his sword. So thus Sir Palamides came into the field,\nand there he abode nigh two hours. And then he sent a squire unto Sir\nTristram, and desired him to come into the field to hold his promise.\nWhen the squire was come to Joyous Gard, anon as Sir Tristram heard of\nhis coming, he let command that the squire should come to his presence\nthere as he lay in his bed. My lord Sir Tristram, said Palamides\u2019\nsquire, wit you well, my lord Palamides abideth you in the field, and\nhe would wit whether ye would do battle or not. Ah, my fair brother,\nsaid Sir Tristram, wit thou well that I am right heavy for these\ntidings, therefore tell Sir Palamides and I were well at ease I would\nnot lie here, nor he should have no need to send for me, and I might\neither ride or go: and for thou shalt say that I am no liar\u2014Sir\nTristram shewed him his thigh, that the wound was six inches deep:\u2014And\nnow thou hast seen my hurt, tell thy lord that this is no feigned\nmatter; and tell him that I had lever than all the gold of king Arthur\nthat I were whole: and tell Palamides, as soon as I am whole I shall\nseek him endlong and overthwart, and that I promise you as I am true\nknight: and if ever I may meet with him he shall have battle of me his\nfill. And with this the squire departed. And when Sir Palamides wist\nthat Tristram was hurt, he was glad, and said, Now I am sure I shall\nhave no shame, for I wot well I should have had hard handling of him,\nand by likely I must needs have had the worse. For he is the hardest\nknight in battle that now is living except Sir Launcelot. And then\ndeparted Sir Palamides where as fortune led him. And within a month Sir\nTristram was whole of his hurt. And then he took his horse, and rode\nfrom country to country, and all strange adventures he achieved\nwheresoever he rode, and always he enquired for Sir Palamides, but of\nall that quarter of summer Sir Tristram could never meet with Sir\nPalamides. But thus as Sir Tristram sought and enquired after Sir\nPalamides, Sir Tristram achieved many great battles, wherethrough all\nthe noise fell to Sir Tristram, and it ceased of Sir Launcelot; and\ntherefore Sir Launcelot\u2019s brethren and his kinsmen would have slain Sir\nTristram, because of his fame. But when Sir Launcelot wist how his\nkinsmen were set, he said to them openly, Wit you well, that and the\nenvy of you all be so hardy to wait upon my lord Sir Tristram with any\nhurt, shame, or villainy, as I am true knight I shall slay the best of\nyou with mine own hands. Alas, fie for shame, should ye for his noble\ndeeds await upon him to slay him. Jesu defend, said Launcelot, that\never any noble knight as Sir Tristram is should be destroyed with\ntreason. Of this noise and fame sprang into Cornwall, and among them of\nLiones, whereof they were passing glad and made great joy. And then\nthey of Liones sent letters unto Sir Tristram of recommendation, and\nmany great gifts to maintain Sir Tristram\u2019s estate. And ever between\nSir Tristram resorted unto Joyous Gard, where as La Beale Isoud was,\nthat loved him as her life.\n Here endeth the tenthe book which is of syr Tristram.\n And here foloweth the Enleuenth book whiche is of sir launcelot.\n_How Sir Launcelot rode on his adventure, and how he holpe a dolorous\n lady from her pain, and how that he fought with a dragon._\nNow leave we Sir Tristram de Liones, and speak we of Sir Launcelot du\nLake, and Sir Galahad, Sir Launcelot\u2019s son, how he was born, and in\nwhat manner, as the book of French rehearseth. Afore the time that Sir\nGalahad was born, there came in an hermit unto king Arthur, upon\nWhitsunday, as the knights sat at the Table Round. And when the hermit\nsaw the siege perilous, he asked the king and all the knights why that\nsiege was void. Sir Arthur and all the knights answered, There shall\nnever none sit in that siege but one, but if he be destroyed. Then,\nsaid the hermit, wot ye what is he? Nay, said Arthur and all the\nknights, we wot not who is he that shall sit therein. Then wot I, said\nthe hermit, for he that shall sit there is unborn, and this same year\nhe shall be born that shall sit there in that siege perilous, and he\nshall win the Sangreal. When this hermit had made this mention he\ndeparted from the court of king Arthur. And then after this feast Sir\nLauncelot rode on his adventures, till on a time by adventure he passed\nover the bridge of Corbin, and there he saw the fairest tower that ever\nhe saw, and thereunder was a fair town full of people, and all the\npeople, men and women, cried at once. Welcome Sir Launcelot du Lake,\nthe flower of all knighthood, for by thee all we shall be holpen out of\ndanger. What mean ye, said Sir Launcelot, that ye cry so upon me? Ah,\nfair knight, said they all, here is within this tower a dolorous lady\nthat hath been there in pains many winters: for ever she boileth in\nscalding water. And but late, said all the people, Sir Gawaine was\nhere, and he might not help her, and so he left her in pain. So may I,\nsaid Sir Launcelot, leave her in pain as well as Sir Gawaine did. Nay,\nsaid the people, we know well that it is Sir Launcelot that shall\ndeliver her. Well, said Launcelot, then show me what I shall do. Then\nthey brought Sir Launcelot into the tower. And when he came to the\nchamber there as this lady was, the doors of iron unlocked and\nunbolted. And so Sir Launcelot went into the chamber that was as hot as\nany stew, and there Sir Launcelot took the fairest lady by the hand\nthat ever he saw, and she was naked as a needle, and by enchantment\nqueen Morgan le Fay and the queen of Northgalis had put her there in\nthat pains because she was called the fairest lady of that country. And\nthere she had been five years, and never might she be delivered out of\nher great pains unto the time the best knight of the world had taken\nher by the hand. Then the people brought her clothes. And when she was\narrayed, Sir Launcelot thought she was the fairest lady of the world,\nbut if it were queen Guenever. Then this lady said to Sir Launcelot,\nSir, if it please you will ye go with me hereby into a chapel that we\nmay give loving and thanking to God? Madam, said Sir Launcelot, cometh\non with me, I will go with you. So when they came there, and gave\nthankings to God, all the people, both learned and lay, gave thankings\nunto God and him, and said, Sir knight, since ye have delivered this\nlady, ye shall deliver us from a serpent that is here in a tomb. Then\nSir Launcelot took his shield, and said, Bring me thither, and what I\nmay do unto the pleasure of God and you, I will do. So when Sir\nLauncelot came thither, he saw written upon the tomb letters of gold\nthat said thus: Here shall come a libbard of king\u2019s blood and he shall\nslay this serpent, and this libbard shall engender a lion in this\nforeign country, the which lion shall pass all other knights. So then\nSir Launcelot lift up the tomb, and there came out an horrible and a\nfiendly dragon spitting fire out of his mouth. Then Sir Launcelot drew\nout his sword and fought with the dragon long, and at last with great\npain Sir Launcelot slew that dragon. Therewithal came king Pelles, the\ngood and noble knight, and saluted Sir Launcelot, and he him again.\nFair knight, said the king, what is your name? I require you of your\nknighthood tell me.\n_How Sir Launcelot came to Pelles, and of the Sangreal, and of Elaine,\n king Pelles\u2019 daughter._\nSir, said Launcelot, wit you well my name is Sir Launcelot du Lake. And\nmy name is, said the king, Pelles, king of the foreign country, and\ncousin nigh unto Joseph of Arimathie. And then either of them made much\nof other, and so they went into the castle to take their repast. And\nanon there came in a dove at a window, and in her mouth there seemed a\nlittle censer of gold. And therewithal there was such a savour as all\nthe spicery of the world had been there. And forthwithal there was upon\nthe table all manner of meats and drinks that they could think upon. So\ncame in a damsel passing fair and young, and she bare a vessel of gold\nbetwixt her hands, and thereto the king kneeled devoutly, and said his\nprayers, and so did all that were there. Then said Sir Launcelot, What\nmay this mean? This is, said the king, the richest thing that any man\nhath living. And when this thing goeth about, the Round Table shall be\nbroken. And wit thou well, said the king, this is the holy Sancgreal\nthat ye have here seen. So the king and Sir Launcelot led their life\nthe most part of that day. And fain would king Pelles have found the\nmean to have had Sir Launcelot to love his daughter fair Elaine, and\nfor this intent: the king knew well that Sir Launcelot should have a\nchild by his daughter, the which should be named Sir Galahad, the good\nknight, by whom all the foreign country should be brought out of\ndanger, and by him the holy Graale should be achieved. Then came forth\na lady that hight dame Brisen, and she said unto the king, Sir, wit ye\nwell, Sir Launcelot loveth no lady in the world but all only queen\nGuenever, and therefore work ye by counsel, and I shall make him to see\nyour daughter Elaine, and he shall not wit but that he seeth queen\nGuenever. Oh, fair lady, dame Brisen, said the king, hope ye to bring\nthis about? Sir, said she, upon pain of my life let me deal. For this\nBrisen was one of the greatest enchantresses that was that time in the\nworld living.\nThen anon by dame Brisen\u2019s wit she made one to come to Sir Launcelot\nthat he knew well. And this man brought him a ring from queen Guenever\nlike as it had come from her, and such one as she was wont for the most\npart to wear. And when Sir Launcelot saw that token, wit ye well he was\nnever so fain. Where is my lady? said Sir Launcelot. She is in the\ncastle of Case, said the messager, but five mile hence. Then Sir\nLauncelot thought to be there the same night. And then this Brisen, by\nthe commandment of king Pelles, let send Elaine to this castle with\ntwenty-five knights unto the castle of Case. Then Sir Launcelot rode\nunto that castle, and there anon he was received worshipfully with such\npeople to his seeming as were about queen Guenever. So when Sir\nLauncelot was alight, then dame Brisen brought him a cup full of wine,\nand as soon as he had drank that wine he was so assotted that he wend\nthat maiden Elaine had been queen Guenever. Wit ye well that Sir\nLauncelot was glad, and so was that lady Elaine, for well she knew that\nof them should be born Sir Galahad, that should prove the best knight\nof the world. And then Sir Launcelot remembered him, and he arose up\nand went to the window.\n_How Sir Launcelot was displeased when he knew that he had been\n deceived, and how Galahad was born._\nAnd anon as he had unshut the window, the enchantment was gone, then he\nknew himself that he had been deceived. Alas, said he, that I have\nlived so long; now am I shamed. So then he gat his sword in his hand,\nand said, Thou traitress, who art thou? thou shalt die right here of my\nhands. Then this fair lady, Elaine, kneeled down afore Sir Launcelot\nand said, Fair courteous knight, come of king\u2019s blood, I require you\nhave mercy upon me; and as thou art renowned the most noble knight of\nthe world, slay me not, for I shall have a son by thee that shall be\nthe most noblest knight of the world. Ah, false traitress, said Sir\nLauncelot, why hast thou betrayed me? Anon tell me what thou art. Sir,\nshe said, I am Elaine, the daughter of king Pelles. Well, said Sir\nLauncelot, I will forgive you this deed. And therewith he took her up\nin his arms and kissed her, for she was as fair a lady, and thereto\nyoung, and as wise as any was that time living. Truly, said Sir\nLauncelot, I may not blame this to you, but her that made this\nenchantment upon me, as between you and me; and I may find her, that\nsame lady Brisen, she shall lose her head for witchcraft, for there was\nnever knight deceived so as I am. And so Sir Launcelot armed him, and\ntook his leave mildly at that lady, young Elaine, and so he departed.\nThen she said, My lord Sir Launcelot, I beseech you see me as soon as\nyou may, for I have obeyed me unto the prophecy that my father told me,\nand by his commandment to fulfil this prophecy I have given the\ngreatest riches and the fairest flower that ever I had, and that is my\nmaiden love and faith, and therefore, gentle knight, owe me your good\nwill. And so Sir Launcelot arrayed him, and was armed, and took his\nleave mildly of that young lady Elaine, and so he departed, and rode\ntill he came to the castle of Corbin where her father was. And as soon\nas her time came she was delivered of a fair child, and they christened\nhim Galahad. And wit ye well that child was well kept and well\nnourished, and he was named Galahad, because Sir Launcelot was so named\nat the fontain stone; and after that, the Lady of the lake confirmed\nhim Sir Launcelot du Lake. Then after this lady was delivered and\nchurched there came a knight unto her, his name was Sir Bromel la\nPleche, the which was a great lord, and he had loved that lady long,\nand he evermore desired her to wed her, and so by no means she could\nput him off, till on a day she said to Sir Bromel, Wit thou well, sir\nknight, I will not love you, for my love is set upon the best knight of\nthe world. Who is he? said Sir Bromel. Sir, said she, it is Sir\nLauncelot du Lake that I love, and none other, and therefore woo me no\nlonger. Ye say well, said Sir Bromel, and since ye have told me so\nmuch, ye shall have but little joy of Sir Launcelot, for I shall slay\nhim wheresoever I meet him. Sir, said the lady Elaine, do to him no\ntreason. Wit ye well, my lady, said Bromel, and I promise you this\ntwelvemonth I shall keep the bridge of Corbin for Sir Launcelot\u2019s sake,\nthat he shall neither come nor go unto you but I shall meet with him.\n_How Sir Bors came to dame Elaine, and saw Galahad, and how he was fed\n with the Sangreal._\nThen, as it befel by fortune and adventure, Sir Bors de Ganis, that was\nnephew unto Sir Launcelot, came over that bridge, and there Sir Bromel\nand Sir Bors justed, and Sir Bors smote Sir Bromel such a buffet that\nhe bare him over his horse croup. And then Sir Bromel, as an hardy\nknight, pulled out his sword and dressed his shield, to do battle with\nSir Bors. And then Sir Bors alight and avoided his horse, and there\nthey dashed together many sad strokes, and long thus they fought, till\nat the last Sir Bromel was laid to the earth, and there Sir Bors began\nto unlace his helm to slay him. Then Sir Bromel cried Sir Bors\u2019 mercy,\nand yielded him. Upon this covenant thou shalt have thy life, said Sir\nBors, so thou go unto Sir Launcelot upon Whitsunday that next cometh,\nand yield thee unto him as knight recreant. I will do it, said Sir\nBromel: and that he sware upon the cross of the sword, and so he let\nhim depart. And Sir Bors rode unto king Pelles that was within Corbin.\nAnd when the king and Elaine his daughter wist that Sir Bors was nephew\nunto Sir Launcelot, they made him great cheer. Then said dame Elaine,\nWe marvel where Sir Launcelot is, for he came never here but once.\nMarvel not, said Sir Bors, for this half year he hath been in prison\nwith queen Morgan le Fay, king Arthur\u2019s sister. Alas, said dame Elaine,\nthat me repenteth. And ever Sir Bors beheld that child in her arms, and\never him seemed it was passing like Sir Launcelot. Truly, said dame\nElaine, wit ye well this is his child. Then Sir Bors wept for joy, and\nhe prayed to God it might prove as good a knight as his father was. And\nso came in a white dove, and she bare a little censer of gold in her\nmouth, and there was all manner of meats and drinks, and a maiden bare\nthat Sancgreal, and she said openly, Wit you well Sir Bors that this\nchild is Galahad, that shall sit in the siege perilous, and achieve the\nSancgreal, and he shall be much better than ever was Sir Launcelot du\nLake, that is his own father. And then they kneeled down and made their\ndevotions, and there was such a savour as all the spicery in the world\nhad been there. And when the dove took her flight, the maiden vanished\nwith the Sancgreal as she came. Sir, said Sir Bors unto king Pelles,\nthis castle may be named the castle adventurous, for here be many\nstrange adventures. That is soth, said the king. For well may this\nplace be called the adventurous place, for there come but few knights\nhere that go away with any worship; be he never so strong, here he may\nbe proved, and but late Sir Gawaine the good knight gat but little\nworship here. For I let you wit, said king Pelles, here shall no knight\nwin no worship but if he be of worship himself, and of good living, and\nthat loveth God, and dreadeth God, and else he getteth no worship here,\nbe he never so hardy. That is a wonderful thing, said Sir Bors. What ye\nmean in this country I wot not, for ye have many strange adventures,\nand therefore I will lie in this castle this night. Ye shall not do so,\nsaid king Pelles, by my counsel, for it is hard and ye escape without a\nshame. I shall take the adventure that will befal me, said Sir Bors.\nThen I counsel you, said the king, to be confessed clean. As for that,\nsaid Sir Bors, I will be shriven with a good will. So Sir Bors was\nconfessed, and for all women Sir Bors was a virgin, save for one, that\nwas the daughter of king Brangoris, and their child hight Helin, and\nsave for her Sir Bors was a pure maiden. And so he was led unto bed in\na fair large chamber, and many doors were shut about the chamber. When\nSir Bors espied all those doors, he avoided all the people, for he\nmight have nobody with him; but in no wise Sir Bors would unarm him,\nbut so he laid him down upon the bed. And right so he saw come in a\nlight that he might well see a spear great and long, that came straight\nupon him pointling, and to Sir Bors seemed that the head of the spear\nburnt like a taper. And anon, or Sir Bors wist, the spear head smote\nhim into the shoulder an hand breadth in deepness, and that wound\ngrieved Sir Bors passing sore. And then he laid him down again for\npain, and anon therewithal came a knight armed with his shield on his\nshoulder, and his sword in his hand, and he bad Sir Bors, Arise sir\nknight, and fight with me. I am sore hurt, he said, but yet I shall not\nfail thee. And then Sir Bors start up and dressed his shield, and then\nthey lashed together mightily a great while. And at the last Sir Bors\nbare him backward, until that he came unto a chamber door, and there\nthat knight went into that chamber, and rested him a great while. And\nwhen he had reposed him he came out freshly again, and began new battle\nwith Sir Bors mightily and strongly.\n_How Sir Bors made Sir Pedivere to yield him, and of marvellous\n adventures that he had, and how he achieved them._\nThen Sir Bors thought he should no more go into that chamber to rest\nhim, and so Sir Bors dressed him betwixt the knight and that chamber\ndoor, and there Sir Bors smote him down, and then that knight yielded\nhim. What is your name? said Sir Bors. Sir, said he, my name is\nPedivere of the Straight Marches. So Sir Bors made him to swear at\nWhitsunday next coming to be at the court of king Arthur and yield him\nthere as a prisoner, as an overcome knight by the hands of Sir Bors. So\nthus departed Sir Pedivere of the Straight Marches. And then Sir Bors\nlaid him down to rest, and then he heard and felt much noise in that\nchamber; and then Sir Bors espied that there came in, he wist not\nwhether at the doors or windows, shot of arrows and of quarels, so\nthick that he marvelled, and many fell upon him and hurt him in the\nbare places. And then Sir Bors was ware where came in an hideous lion;\nso Sir Bors dressed him unto the lion, and anon the lion bereft him of\nhis shield, and with his sword Sir Bors smote off the lion\u2019s head.\nRight so Sir Bors forthwithal saw a dragon in the court, passing\nhorrible, and there seemed letters of gold written in his forehead; and\nSir Bors thought that the letters made a signification of king Arthur.\nRight so there came an horrible libard and an old, and there they\nfought long, and did great battle together. And at the last the dragon\nspit out of his mouth as it had been an hundred dragons, and lightly\nall the small dragons slew the old dragon, and tare him all to pieces.\nAnon withal there came an old man into the hall, and he sat him down in\na fair chair, and there seemed to be two adders about his neck, and\nthen the old man had an harp, and there he sang an old song, how Joseph\nof Aramathie came into this land. Then when he had sung, the old man\nbad Sir Bors\u2014Go from thence, for here shall ye have no more\nadventures, and full worshipfully have ye done, and better shall ye do\nhereafter. And then Sir Bors seemed that there came the whitest dove\nwith a little golden censer in her mouth; and anon therewithal the\ntempest ceased and passed that afore was marvellous to hear. So was all\nthat court full of good savours. Then Sir Bors saw four children\nbearing four fair tapers, and an old man in the midst of the children\nwith a censer in his one hand, and a spear in his other hand, and that\nspear was called the spear of vengeance.\n_How Sir Bors departed; and how Sir Launcelot was rebuked of queen\n Guenever, and of his excuse._\nNow, said that old man to Sir Bors, go ye to your cousin Sir Launcelot,\nand tell him of this adventure, the which had been most convenient for\nhim of all earthly knights, but sin is so foul in him he may not\nachieve such holy deeds; for, had not been his sin, he had passed all\nthe knights that ever were in his days. And tell thou Sir Launcelot, of\nall worldly adventures he passeth in manhood and prowess all other, but\nin these spiritual matters he shall have many his better. And then Sir\nBors saw four gentlewomen coming by him poorly beseen, and he saw where\nthat they entered into a chamber where was great light, as it were a\nsummer light, and the women kneeled down afore an altar of silver with\nfour pillars, and as it had been a bishop kneeled down afore that table\nof silver. And as Sir Bors looked over his head, he saw a sword like\nsilver, naked, hoving over his head, and the clearness thereof smote so\nin his eyes that at that time Sir Bors was blind, and there he heard a\nvoice that said, Go hence, thou Sir Bors, for as yet thou art not\nworthy for to be in this place. And then he went backward to his bed\ntill on the morn. And on the morn king Pelles made great joy of Sir\nBors, and then he departed and rode to Camelot, and there he found Sir\nLauncelot du Lake, and told him of the adventures he had seen with king\nPelles at Corbin. So the noise sprang in king Arthur\u2019s court that Sir\nLauncelot had a child by Elaine, the daughter of king Pelles, wherefore\nqueen Guenever was wroth and gave many rebukes to Sir Launcelot, and\ncalled him false knight. And then Sir Launcelot told the queen all, and\nhow he was made to meet her by enchantment, in likeness of the queen.\nSo the queen held Sir Launcelot excused. And, as the book saith, king\nArthur had been in France, and had made war upon the mighty king\nClaudas, and had won much of his lands; and when the king was come\nagain he let cry a great feast, that all lords and ladies of all\nEngland should be there, but if it were such as were rebellious against\nhim.\n_How dame Elaine, Galahad\u2019s mother, came in great estate unto Camelot,\n and how Sir Launcelot behaved him there._\nAnd when dame Elaine, the daughter of king Pelles, heard of this feast,\nshe went to her father, and required him that he would give her leave\nto ride to that feast. The king answered, I will well ye go thither;\nbut in any wise, as ye love me and will have my blessing, that ye be\nwell beseen in the richest wise; and look that ye spare not for no\ncost; ask, and ye shall have all that you needeth. Then, by the advice\nof dame Brisen her maiden, all thing was apparelled unto the purpose,\nand there was never no lady more richlier beseen. So she rode with\ntwenty knights and ten ladies and gentlewomen to the number of an\nhundred horses. And when she came to Camelot, king Arthur and queen\nGuenever said, and all the knights, that dame Elaine was the fairest\nand the best beseen lady that ever was seen in that court.\nAnd anon as king Arthur wist that she was come, he met her and saluted\nher, and so did the most part of all the knights of the Round Table,\nboth Sir Tristram, Sir Bleoberis, and Sir Gawaine, and many more that I\nwill not rehearse. But when Sir Launcelot saw her he was so ashamed,\nand that because he drew his sword on her, that he would not salute her\nnor speak to her, and yet Sir Launcelot thought she was the fairest\nwoman that ever he saw in his life days. But when dame Elaine saw Sir\nLauncelot that would not speak to her, she was so heavy that she wend\nher heart would have to-brast. For wit ye well, out of measure she\nloved him. And then Elaine said unto her woman dame Brisen, The\nunkindness of Sir Launcelot slayeth me near. Ah peace, madam, said dame\nBrisen, I will undertake that he shall come to you, and ye would hold\nyou still. That were me lever, said dame Elaine, than all the gold that\nis above the earth. Let me deal, said dame Brisen. So when Elaine was\nbrought unto queen Guenever, either made other good cheer by\ncountenance, but nothing with hearts. But all men and women spake of\nthe beauty of dame Elaine, and of her great riches. Then the queen\ncommanded that dame Elaine should sleep in a chamber nigh unto her\nchamber, and all under one roof. And so it was done as the queen had\ncommanded. Then the queen sent for Sir Launcelot, and bid him come to\nher, or else, I am sure, said the queen, that ye will go to your lady,\ndame Elaine, by whom ye had Galahad. Ah, madam, said Sir Launcelot,\nnever say ye so; for that was against my will. Then, said the queen,\nlook that ye come to me when I send for you. Madam, said Sir Launcelot,\nI shall not fail you, but I shall be ready at your commandment. This\nbargain was soon done and made between them, but dame Brisen knew it by\nher crafts, and told it to her lady dame Elaine. Alas, said she, how\nshall I do. Let me deal, said dame Brisen, for I shall bring him by the\nhand, even to you, and he shall ween that I am queen Guenever\u2019s\nmessager. Now well is me, said dame Elaine, for all the world I love\nnot so much as I do Sir Launcelot.\n_How dame Brisen by enchantment brought Sir Launcelot to dame Elaine,\n and how queen Guenever rebuked him._\nSo then dame Brisen came to Sir Launcelot and said, Sir Launcelot du\nLake, my lady queen Guenever awaiteth upon you. O my fair lady, said\nSir Launcelot, I am ready to go with you where ye will have me. So Sir\nLauncelot took his sword in his hand, and then dame Brisen took him by\nthe finger and led him unto her lady, dame Elaine; and then she\ndeparted and left them together. Wit ye well the lady was glad, and so\nwas Sir Launcelot, for he wend that it was the queen. Then queen\nGuenever sent one of her women unto Sir Launcelot; and when she came\nthere, she found Sir Launcelot was away: so she came to the queen and\ntold her all. Alas, said the queen, where is that false knight become?\nThen the queen was nigh out of her wit, and then she writhed and\nweltered as a mad woman; and at the last the queen met with Sir\nLauncelot, and thus she said, False traitor knight that thou art, look\nthou never abide in my court, and not so hardy, thou false traitor\nknight that thou art, that ever thou come in my sight. Alas, said Sir\nLauncelot: and therewith he took such an heartly sorrow at her words\nthat he fell down to the floor in a swoon. And therewithal queen\nGuenever departed. And when Sir Launcelot awoke of his swoon he lept\nout at a bay window into a garden, and there with thorns he was all\nto-scratched in his visage and his body, and so he ran forth he wist\nnot whither, and was wild wood as ever was man; and so he ran two year,\nand never man might have grace to know him.\n_How dame Elaine was commanded by queen Guenever to avoid the court,\n and how Sir Launcelot became mad._\nNow turn we unto queen Guenever and to the fair lady Elaine. When dame\nElaine heard the queen so to rebuke Sir Launcelot, and also she saw how\nhe swooned, and how he lept out at a bay window, then she said unto\nqueen Guenever, Madam, ye are greatly to blame for Sir Launcelot, for\nnow ye have lost him; for I saw and heard by his countenance that he is\nmad for ever. Alas, madam, ye do great sin, and to yourself great\ndishonour, for ye have a lord of your own, and therefore it is your\npart to love him; for there is no queen in this world hath such another\nking as ye have. And if ye were not, I might have the love of my lord\nSir Launcelot; and cause I have to love him, for I am his, and by him I\nhave borne a fair son, and his name is Galahad, and he shall be in his\ntime the best knight of the world. Dame Elaine, said the queen, I\ncharge you and command you to avoid my court; and for the love ye owe\nunto Sir Launcelot discover not his counsel, for and ye do it will be\nhis death. As for that, said dame Elaine, I dare undertake he is marred\nfor ever, and that have ye made, for ye nor I are like to rejoice him;\nfor he made the most piteous groans when he lept out at yonder bay\nwindow that ever I heard man make. Alas! said fair Elaine, and alas!\nsaid the queen Guenever, for now I wot well we have lost him for ever.\nSo on the morn dame Elaine took her leave to depart, and she would no\nlonger abide. Then king Arthur brought her on her way with more than an\nhundred knights through a forest. And by the way she told Sir Bors de\nGanis all how it betid, and how Sir Launcelot lept out at a bay window\naraged out of his wit. Alas, said Sir Bors, where is my lord Sir\nLauncelot become? Sir, said Elaine, I wot never. Alas, said Sir Bors,\nbetwixt you both ye have destroyed that good knight. As for me, said\ndame Elaine, I said never nor did never thing that should in any wise\ndisplease him; but with the rebuke that queen Guenever gave him I saw\nhim swoon to the earth; and when he awoke he took his sword in his\nhand, and lept out at a window, with the grisliest groan that ever I\nheard man make. Now farewell, dame Elaine, said Sir Bors, and hold my\nlord Arthur with a tale as long as ye can, for I will turn again unto\nqueen Guenever and give her a heat: and I require you as ever ye will\nhave my service, make good watch, and espy if ever ye may see my lord\nSir Launcelot. Truly, said fair Elaine, I shall do all that I may do,\nfor as fain would I know and wit where he is become as you or any of\nhis kin, or queen Guenever, and cause great enough have I thereto as\nwell as any other. And wit ye well, said fair Elaine to Sir Bors, I\nwould lose my life for him rather than he should be hurt: but alas, I\ncast me never for to see him; and the chief causer of this is dame\nGuenever. Madam, said dame Brisen, the which had made the enchantment\nbefore betwixt Sir Launcelot and her, I pray you heartily let Sir Bors\ndepart and hie him with all his might, as fast as he may, to seek Sir\nLauncelot. For I warn you he is clean out of his mind, and yet he shall\nbe well holpen, and but by miracle. Then wept dame Elaine, and so did\nSir Bors de Ganis, and so they departed; and Sir Bors rode straight\nunto queen Guenever, and when she saw Sir Bors she wept as she were\nwood. Fie on your weeping, said Sir Bors, for ye weep never but when\nthere is no boot. Alas, said Sir Bors, that ever Sir Launcelot\u2019s kin\nsaw you. For now have ye lost the best knight of our blood, and he that\nwas all our leader and our succour. And I dare say and make it good,\nthat all kings, christian nor heathen, may not find such a knight, for\nto speak of his nobleness and courtesy with his beauty and his\ngentleness. Alas, said Sir Bors, what shall we do that be of his blood?\nAlas, said Ector de Maris. Alas, said Lionel.\n_What sorrow queen Guenever made for Sir Launcelot, and how he was\n sought by knights of his kin._\nAnd when the queen heard them say so, she fell to the earth in a dead\nswoon. And then Sir Bors took her up, and roused her, and when she was\nawaked she kneeled afore the three knights, and held up both her hands,\nand besought them to seek him, and spare not for no goods but that he\nbe founden, for I wot he is out of his mind. And Sir Bors, Sir Ector,\nand Sir Lionel departed from the queen, for they might not abide no\nlonger for sorrow. And then the queen sent them treasure enough for\ntheir expenses, and so they took their horses and their armour, and\ndeparted. And then they rode from country to country, in forests and in\nwildernesses and in wastes, and ever they laid watch as well both at\nforests and at all manner of men as they rode, to hearken and enquire\nafter him, as he that was a naked man in his shirt, with a sword in his\nhand. And thus they rode nigh a quarter of a year, endlong and\noverthwart, in many places, forests and wildernesses, and ofttimes were\nevil lodged for his sake, and yet for all their labour and seeking\ncould they never hear word of him. And wit you well these three knights\nwere passing sorry. Then at the last Sir Bors and his fellows met with\na knight, that hight Sir Melion de Tartare. Now, fair knight, said Sir\nBors, whither be ye away? for they knew either other aforetime. Sir,\nsaid Sir Melion, I am in the way toward the court of king Arthur. Then\nwe pray you, said Sir Bors, that ye will tell my lord Arthur, and my\nlady queen Guenever, and all the fellowship of the Round Table, that we\ncannot in no wise hear tell where Sir Launcelot is become. Then Sir\nMelion departed from them, and said that he would tell the king and the\nqueen and all the fellowship of the Round Table, as they had desired\nhim. So when Sir Melion came to the court of king Arthur, he told the\nking and the queen and all the fellowship of the Round Table, what Sir\nBors had said of Sir Launcelot. Then Sir Gawaine, Sir Uwaine, Sir\nSagramor le Desirous, Sir Aglovale, and Sir Percivale de Galis, took\nupon them by the great desire of king Arthur, and in especial by the\nqueen, to seek throughout all England, Wales, and Scotland, to find Sir\nLauncelot. And with them rode eighteen knights more to bear them\nfellowship. And wit ye well they lacked no manner of spending: and so\nwere they three and twenty knights.\nNow turn we to Sir Launcelot, and speak we of his care and woe and what\npain he there endured, for cold, hunger, and thirst he had plenty. And\nthus as these noble knights rode together, they by one assent departed,\nand then they rode by two, by three, and by four, and by five; and ever\nthey assigned where they should meet. And so Sir Aglovale and Sir\nPercivale rode together unto their mother that was a queen in those\ndays. And when she saw her two sons, for joy she wept tenderly. And\nthen she said, Ah, my dear sons, when your father was slain he left me\nfour sons, of the which now be twain slain; and for the death of my\nnoble son Sir Lamorak shall my heart never be glad. And then she\nkneeled down upon her knees tofore Aglovale and Sir Percivale, and\nbesought them to abide at home with her. Ah, sweet mother, said Sir\nPercivale, we may not; for we be come of king\u2019s blood of both parties,\nand therefore, mother, it is our kind to haunt arms and noble deeds.\nAlas, my sweet sons, then she said, for your sakes I shall lose my\nliking and joy, and then wind and weather I may not endure, what for\nthe death of your father king Pellinore, that was shamefully slain by\nthe hands of Sir Gawaine and his brother Sir Gaheris, and they slew him\nnot manly, but by treason. Ah, my dear sons, this is a piteous\ncomplaint for me of your father\u2019s death, considering also the death of\nSir Lamorak, that of knighthood had but few fellows. Now, my dear sons,\nhave this in your mind. Then there was but weeping and sobbing in the\ncourt when they should depart, and she fell in swooning in midst of the\ncourt.\n_How a servant of Sir Aglovale\u2019s was slain, and what vengeance Sir\n Aglovale and Sir Percivale did therefore._\nAnd when she was awaked she sent a squire after them with spending\nenough. And so when the squire had overtaken them, they would not\nsuffer him to ride with them, but sent him home again to comfort their\nmother, praying her meekly of her blessing. And so this squire was\nbenighted, and by misfortune he happened to come unto a castle where\ndwelled a baron. And so when the squire was come into the castle, the\nlord asked him from whence he came, and whom he served? My lord, said\nthe squire, I serve a good knight that is called Sir Aglovale. The\nsquire said it to good intent, weening unto him to have been more\nforborne for Sir Aglovale\u2019s sake than if he had said he had served the\nqueen, Aglovale\u2019s mother. Well, my fellow, said the lord of that\ncastle, for Sir Aglovale\u2019s sake thou shalt have evil lodging, for\nAglovale slew my brother, and therefore thou shalt die on part of\npayment. And then that lord commanded his men to have him away, and so\npulled him out of the castle, and there they slew him without mercy.\nRight so on the morn came Sir Aglovale and Sir Percivale riding by a\nchurch-yard, where men and women were busy, and beheld the dead squire,\nand they thought to bury him. What is there, said Sir Aglovale, that ye\nbehold so fast? A good man start forth and said, Fair knight, here\nlieth a squire slain shamefully this night. How was he slain, fair\nfellow? said Sir Aglovale. My fair sir, said the man, the lord of this\ncastle lodged this squire this night, and because he said he was\nservant unto a good knight that is with king Arthur, his name is Sir\nAglovale, therefore the lord commanded to slay him, and for this cause\nis he slain. Gramercy, said Sir Aglovale, and ye shall see his death\nrevenged lightly, for I am that same knight for whom this squire was\nslain. Then Sir Aglovale called unto him Sir Percivale, and bad him\nalight lightly, and so they alight both, and betook their horses to\ntheir men, and so they went on foot into the castle. And all so soon as\nthey were within the castle gate Sir Aglovale bad the porter, Go thou\nunto thy lord and tell him that I am Sir Aglovale, for whom this squire\nwas slain this night. Anon the porter told this to his lord, whose name\nwas Goodewin: anon he armed him, and then he came into the court and\nsaid, Which of you is Sir Aglovale? Here I am, said Aglovale: for what\ncause slewest thou this night my mother\u2019s squire? I slew him, said Sir\nGoodewin, because of thee; for thou slewest my brother Sir Gawdelin. As\nfor thy brother, said Sir Aglovale, I avow it, I slew him, for he was a\nfalse knight and a betrayer of ladies and of good knights; and for the\ndeath of my squire thou shalt die. I defy thee, said Sir Goodewin. Then\nthey lashed together as eagerly as it had been two lions: and Sir\nPercivale he fought with all the remnant that would fight. And within a\nwhile Sir Percivale had slain all that would withstand him; for Sir\nPercivale dealt so his strokes that were so rude that there durst no\nman abide him. And within a while Sir Aglovale had Sir Goodewin at the\nearth, and there he unlaced his helm and strake off his head. And then\nthey departed and took their horses. And then they let carry the dead\nsquire unto a priory, and there they interred him.\n_How Sir Percivale departed secretly from his brother, and how he\n loosed a knight bound with a chain, and of other things._\nAnd when this was done, they rode into many countries, ever enquiring\nafter Sir Launcelot, but never they could hear of him. And at the last\nthey came to a castle that hight Cardican, and there Sir Percivale and\nSir Aglovale were lodged together, and privily about midnight Sir\nPercivale came to Aglovale\u2019s squire, and said, Arise and make thee\nready, for ye and I will ride away secretly. Sir, said the squire, I\nwould full fain ride with you where ye would have me, but, and my lord\nyour brother take me, he will slay me. As for that care thou not, for I\nshall be thy warrant. And so Sir Percivale rode till it was afternoon,\nand then he came upon a bridge of stone, and there he found a knight\nthat was bounden with a chain fast about the waist unto a pillar of\nstone. O fair knight, said that bounden knight, I require thee loose me\nof my bonds. What knight are ye? said Sir Percivale, and for what cause\nare ye so bounden? Sir, I shall tell you, said that knight; I am a\nknight of the Table Round, and my name is Sir Persides, and thus by\nadventure I came this way, and here I lodged in this castle at the\nbridge foot, and therein dwelleth an uncourteous lady, and because she\nproffered me to be her paramour and I refused her, she set her men upon\nme suddenly or ever I might come to my weapon, and thus they bound me,\nand here I wot well I shall die, but if some man of worship break my\nbands. Be ye of good cheer, said Sir Percivale, and because ye are a\nknight of the Round Table as well as I, I trust to God to break your\nbands. And therewith Sir Percivale drew out his sword, and strake at\nthe chain with such a might that he cut a-two the chain, and through\nSir Persides\u2019 hauberk, and hurt him a little. Truly, said Sir Persides,\nthat was a mighty stroke as ever I felt one, for had not the chain\nbeen, ye had slain me. And therewithal Sir Persides saw a knight coming\nout of the castle all that ever he might flying. Beware Sir, said Sir\nPersides, yonder cometh a man that will have ado with you. Let him\ncome, said Sir Percivale, and so he met with that knight in the midst\nof the bridge, and Sir Percivale gave him such a buffet that he smote\nhim quite from his horse, and over a part of the bridge, that had not\nbeen a little vessel under the bridge that knight had been drowned. And\nthen Sir Percivale took the knight\u2019s horse, and made Sir Persides to\nmount upon him, and so they rode unto the castle, and bad the lady\ndeliver Sir Persides\u2019 servants, or else he would slay all that ever he\nfound. And so for fear she delivered them all. Then was Sir Percivale\nware of a lady that stood in that tower. Ah, madam, said Sir Percivale,\nwhat use and custom is that in a lady to destroy good knights but if\nthey will be your paramour? forsooth this is a shameful custom of a\nlady. And if I had not a great matter in my hand, I should foredo your\nevil customs. And so Sir Persides brought Sir Percivale unto his own\ncastle, and there he made him great cheer all that night. And on the\nmorn, when Sir Percivale had heard mass and broken his fast, he bad Sir\nPersides, Ride unto king Arthur, and tell the king how that ye met with\nme, and tell my brother Sir Aglovale how I rescued you, and bid him\nseek not after me, for I am in the quest to seek Sir Launcelot du Lake.\nAnd though he seek me he shall not find me, and tell him I will never\nsee him, nor the court, till I have found Sir Launcelot. Also tell Sir\nKay the seneschal, and to Sir Mordred, that I trust to God to be of as\ngreat worthiness as either of them. For tell them I shall never forget\ntheir mocks and scorns that they did to me that day that I was made\nknight. And tell them I will never see that court till men speak more\nworship of me than ever men did of any of them both. And so Sir\nPersides departed from Sir Percivale, and then he rode unto king\nArthur, and told there of Sir Percivale. And when Sir Aglovale heard\nhim speak of his brother Sir Percivale, he said, He departed from me\nunkindly. Sir, said Sir Persides, on my life he shall prove a noble\nknight as any now is living. And when he saw Sir Kay and Sir Mordred,\nSir Persides said thus: My fair lords both, Sir Percivale greeteth you\nwell both, and he sent you word by me that he trusteth to God or ever\nhe come to the court again to be of as great nobleness as ever were ye\nboth, and more men to speak of his nobleness than ever they did you. It\nmay well be, said Sir Kay and Sir Mordred, but at that time when he was\nmade knight he was full unlikely to prove a good knight. As for that,\nsaid king Arthur, he must needs prove a good knight, for his father and\nhis brethren were noble knights.\n_How Sir Percivale met with Sir Ector, and how they fought long, and\n each had almost slain other._\nAnd now will we turn unto Sir Percivale that rode long, and in a forest\nhe met a knight with a broken shield and a broken helm, and as soon as\neither saw other readily, they made them ready to just, and so hurtled\ntogether with all the might of their horses, and met together so hard\nthat Sir Percivale was smitten to the earth. And then Sir Percivale\narose lightly and cast his shield on his shoulder and drew his sword,\nand bad the other knight alight, and do we battle to the uttermost.\nWill ye more? said that knight, and therewith he alight and put his\nhorse from him, and then they came together an easy pace, and there\nthey lashed together with noble swords, and sometime they stroke, and\nsometime they foined, and either gave other many great wounds. Thus\nthey fought near half a day, and never rested but right little, and\nthere was none of them both that had less wounds than fifteen, and they\nbled so much that it was marvel they stood on their feet. But this\nknight that fought with Sir Percivale was a proved knight and a wise\nfighting knight, and Sir Percivale was young and strong, not knowing in\nfighting as the other was. Then Sir Percivale spake first, and said,\nSir knight, hold thy hand a while still, for we have foughten for a\nsimple matter and quarrel over long, and therefore I require thee tell\nme thy name, for I was never or this time matched. Truly, said that\nknight, and never or this time was there never knight that wounded me\nso sore as thou hast done, and yet have I foughten in many battles; and\nnow shalt thou wit that I am a knight of the Table Round, and my name\nis Sir Ector de Maris, brother unto the good knight Sir Launcelot du\nLake. Alas, said Sir Percivale, and my name is Sir Percivale de Galis,\nthat hath made my quest to seek Sir Launcelot; now I am siker that I\nshall never finish my quest, for ye have slain me with your hands. It\nis not so, said Sir Ector, for I am slain by your hands, and may not\nlive; therefore I require you, said Sir Ector unto Sir Percivale, ride\nye hereby to a priory, and bring me a priest that I may receive my\nSaviour, for I may not live. And when ye come to the court of king\nArthur, tell not my brother Sir Launcelot how that ye slew me, for then\nhe would be your mortal enemy; but ye may say that I was slain in my\nquest as I sought him. Alas, said Sir Percivale, ye say that thing that\nnever will be, for I am so faint for bleeding that I may scarcely\nstand; how should I then take my horse?\n_How by miracle they were both made whole, by the coming of the holy\n vessel of Sangreal._\nThen they made both great dole out of measure. This will not avail,\nsaid Percivale. And then he kneeled down and made his prayer devoutly\nunto Almighty Jesu; for he was one of the best knights of the world\nthat at that time was, in whom the very faith stood most in. Right so\nthere came by, the holy vessel of the Sancgreal with all manner of\nsweetness and savour, but they could not readily see who that bare that\nvessel, but Sir Percivale had a glimmering of the vessel, and of the\nmaiden that bare it, for he was a perfect clean maiden. And forthwithal\nthey both were as whole of hide and limb as ever they were in their\nlife days; then they gave thankings to God with great mildness. O Jesu!\nsaid Sir Percivale, what may this mean that we be thus healed, and\nright now we were at the point of dying? I wot full well, said Sir\nEctor, what it is. It is an holy vessel that is borne by a maiden, and\ntherein is a part of the holy blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, blessed\nmight He be! but it may not be seen, said Sir Ector, but if it be by a\nperfect man. Truly, said Sir Percivale, I saw a damsel, as me thought,\nall in white, with a vessel in both her hands, and forthwithal I was\nwhole. So then they took their horses and their harness, and amended\ntheir harness as well as they might that was broken, and so they\nmounted upon their horses and rode talking together. And there Sir\nEctor de Maris told Sir Percivale how he had sought his brother Sir\nLauncelot long, and never could hear witting of him:\u2014In many strange\nadventures have I been in this quest. And so either told other of their\nadventures.\n Here endeth the enleuenth booke. And here foloweth the twelfth book.\n_How Sir Launcelot in his madness took a sword and fought with a\n knight, and after lept into a bed._\nAnd now leave we of a while of Sir Ector and of Sir Percivale, and\nspeak we of Sir Launcelot, that suffered and endured many sharp\nshowers, that ever ran wild wood from place to place, and lived by\nfruit and such as he might get, and drank water two year, and other\nclothing had he but little but his shirt and his breeches. Thus as Sir\nLauncelot wandered here and there, he came in a fair meadow where he\nfound a pavilion, and there by upon a tree there hung a white shield,\nand two swords hung thereby, and two spears leaned there by a tree. And\nwhen Sir Launcelot saw the swords, anon he lept to the one sword, and\ntook it in his hand and drew it out. And then he lashed at the shield\nthat all the meadow rang of the dints, that he gave such a noise as ten\nknights had foughten together. Then came forth a dwarf and lept unto\nSir Launcelot, and would have had the sword out of his hand, and then\nSir Launcelot took him by the both shoulders, and threw him to the\nground upon his neck, that he had almost broken his neck, and\ntherewithal the dwarf cried, Help. Then came forth a likely knight, and\nwell apparelled in scarlet furred with meniver. And anon as he saw Sir\nLauncelot, he deemed that he should be out of his wit: and then he said\nwith fair speech, Good man, lay down that sword, for, as me seemeth,\nthou hast more need of sleep, and of warm clothes, than to wield that\nsword. As for that, said Sir Launcelot, come not too nigh; for, and\nthou do, wit thou well I will slay thee. And when the knight of the\npavilion saw that, he start backward within the pavilion. And then the\ndwarf armed him lightly, and so the knight thought by force and might\nto take the sword from Sir Launcelot, and so he came stepping out, and\nwhen Sir Launcelot saw him come so all armed with his sword in his\nhand, then Sir Launcelot flew to him with such a might, and hit him\nupon the helm such a buffet that the stroke troubled his brains, and\ntherewith the sword brake in three. And the knight fell to the earth as\nhe had been dead, the blood blasting out of his mouth, the nose, and\nthe ears. And then Sir Launcelot ran into the pavilion, and rushed even\ninto the warm bed: and there was a lady in that bed, and she gat her\nsmock, and ran out of the pavilion. And when she saw her lord lie on\nthe ground like to be dead, then she cried and wept as she had been\nmad. Then with her noise the knight awaked out of his swoon, and looked\nup weakly with his eyes, and then he asked her where was that mad man\nthat had given him such a buffet? for such a buffet had I never of\nman\u2019s hand. Sir, said the dwarf, it is not worship to hurt him, for he\nis a man out of his wit, and doubt ye not he hath been a man of great\nworship, and for some heartly sorrow that he hath taken he is fallen\nmad: and me seemeth, said the dwarf, he resembleth much unto Sir\nLauncelot; for him I saw at the great tournament beside Lonazep. Jesu\ndefend, said that knight, that ever that noble knight Sir Launcelot\nshould be in such a plight. But whatsoever he be, said that knight,\nharm will I none do him. And this knight\u2019s name was Bliant. Then he\nsaid unto the dwarf. Go thou fast on horseback unto my brother Sir\nSelivant, that is at the Castle Blank, and tell him of mine adventure,\nand bid him bring with him an horse-litter, and then will we bear this\nknight unto my castle.\n_How Sir Launcelot was carried in a horse-litter, and how Sir Launcelot\n rescued Sir Bliant his host._\nSo the dwarf rode fast, and he came again and brought Sir Selivant with\nhim, and six men with an horse-litter. And so they took up the\nfeather-bed with Sir Launcelot, and so carried all away with them unto\nthe Castle Blank, and he never awaked till he was within the castle.\nAnd then they bound his hands and his feet, and gave him good meats and\ngood drinks, and brought him again to his strength and his fairness,\nbut in his wit they could not bring him again, nor to know himself.\nThus was Sir Launcelot there more than a year and an half, honestly\narrayed, and fair fared withal. Then upon a day this lord of that\ncastle, Sir Bliant, took his arms on horseback with a spear to seek\nadventures. And as he rode in a forest there met him two knights\nadventurous. The one was Breuse Sance Pit\u00e9, and his brother, Sir\nBertelot, and these two ran both at once upon Sir Bliant, and brake\ntheir spears upon his body. And then they drew out swords, and made\ngreat battle, and fought long together. But at the last Sir Bliant was\nsore wounded, and felt himself faint, and then he fled on horseback\ntoward his castle. And they came hurling under the castle where as Sir\nLauncelot lay in a window, and saw how two knights laid upon Sir Bliant\nwith their swords. And when Sir Launcelot saw that, yet as wood as he\nwas, he was sorry for his lord Sir Bliant. And then Sir Launcelot brake\nhis chains from his legs and off his arms, and in the breaking he hurt\nhis hands sore: and so Sir Launcelot ran out at a postern, and there he\nmet with the two knights that chased Sir Bliant, and there he pulled\ndown Sir Bertelot with his bare hands from his horse, and therewithal\nhe wrothe his sword out of his hands, and so he lept unto Sir Breuse,\nand gave him such a buffet upon the head that he tumbled backward over\nhis horse croup. And when Sir Bertelot saw there his brother have such\na fall, he gat a spear in his hand, and would have run Sir Launcelot\nthrough. That saw Sir Bliant, and strake off the hand of Sir Bertelot:\nand then Sir Breuse and Sir Bertelot gat their horses and fled away.\nWhen Sir Selivant came, and saw what Sir Launcelot had done for his\nbrother, then he thanked God, and so did his brother, that ever they\ndid him any good. But when Sir Bliant saw that Sir Launcelot was hurt\nwith the breaking of his irons, then was he heavy that ever he bound\nhim. Bind him no more, said Sir Selivant, for he is happy and gracious.\nThen they made great joy of Sir Launcelot, and they bound him no more.\nAnd so he abode there an half year and more. And on the morn early, Sir\nLauncelot was ware where came a great boar with many hounds nigh him.\nBut the boar was so big there might no hounds tear him, and the hunters\ncame after blowing their horns, both on horseback and on foot: and then\nSir Launcelot was ware where one alight, and tied his horse to a tree,\nand leaned his spear against the tree.\n_How Sir Launcelot fought against a boar and slew him, and how he was\n hurt, and brought unto an hermitage._\nSo came Sir Launcelot, and found the horse bounden till a tree, and a\nspear leaning against a tree, and a sword tied to the saddle bow. And\nthen Sir Launcelot lept into the saddle, and gat that spear in his\nhand, and then he rode after the boar. And then Sir Launcelot was ware\nwhere the boar set his back to a tree, fast by an hermitage. Then Sir\nLauncelot ran at the boar with his spear. And therewith the boar turned\nhim nimbly, and rove out the lungs and the heart of the horse, so that\nLauncelot fell to the earth, and or ever Sir Launcelot might get from\nthe horse, the boar rove him on the brawn of the thigh, up to the hough\nbone. And then Sir Launcelot was wroth, and up he gat upon his feet,\nand drew his sword, and he smote off the boar\u2019s head at one stroke. And\ntherewithal came out the hermit, and saw him have such a wound: then\nthe hermit came to Sir Launcelot and bemoaned him, and would have had\nhim home unto his hermitage. But when Sir Launcelot heard him speak, he\nwas so wroth with his wound that he ran upon the hermit to have slain\nhim, and the hermit ran away, and when Sir Launcelot might not overget\nhim he threw his sword after him, for Sir Launcelot might go no farther\nfor bleeding. Then the hermit turned again, and asked Sir Launcelot how\nhe was hurt. Fellow, said Sir Launcelot, this boar hath bitten me sore.\nThen come with me, said the hermit, and I shall heal you. Go thy way,\nsaid Sir Launcelot, and deal not with me. Then the hermit ran his way,\nand there he met with a good knight with many men. Sir, said the\nhermit, here is fast by my place the goodliest man that ever I saw, and\nhe is sore wounded with a boar, and yet he hath slain the boar. But\nwell I wot, said the hermit, and he be not holpen, that goodly man\nshall die of that wound, and that were great pity. Then that knight, at\nthe desire of the hermit, gat a cart, and in that cart that knight put\nthe boar and Sir Launcelot, for Sir Launcelot was so feeble that they\nmight right easily deal with him. And so Sir Launcelot was brought unto\nthe hermitage, and there the hermit healed him of his wound. But the\nhermit might not find Sir Launcelot\u2019s sustenance, and so he impaired\nand waxed feeble, both of his body and of his wit, for the default of\nhis sustenance: he waxed more wooder than he was aforehand. And then,\nupon a day. Sir Launcelot ran his way into the forest, and by adventure\nhe came to the city of Corbin where dame Elaine was, that bare Galahad,\nSir Launcelot\u2019s son. And so when he was entered into the town, he ran\nthrough the town to the castle, and then all the young men of that city\nran after Sir Launcelot, and there they threw turves at him, and gave\nhim many sad strokes. And ever as Sir Launcelot might overreach any of\nthem he threw them, so that they would never come in his hands no more,\nfor of some he brake the legs and arms, and so fled into the castle,\nand then came out knights and squires and rescued Sir Launcelot. And\nwhen they beheld him, and looked upon his person, they thought they saw\nnever so goodly a man. And when they saw so many wounds upon him, all\nthey deemed that he had been a man of worship. And then they ordained\nhim clothes to his body, and straw underneath him, and a little house.\nAnd then every day they would throw him meat, and set him drink, but\nthere was but few would bring meat to his hands.\n_How Sir Launcelot was known by dame Elaine, and was borne into a\n chamber, and after healed by the Sangreal._\nSo it befel, that king Pelles had a nephew, his name was Castor, and so\nhe desired of the king to be made knight, and so at the request of this\nCastor, the king made him knight at the feast of Candlemas. And when\nSir Castor was made knight, that same day he gave many gowns. And then\nSir Castor sent for the fool, that was Sir Launcelot. And when he was\ncome afore Sir Castor, he gave Sir Launcelot a robe of scarlet and all\nthat belonged unto him. And when Sir Launcelot was so arrayed like a\nknight, he was the seemliest man in all the court, and none so well\nmade. So when he saw his time he went into the garden, and there Sir\nLauncelot laid him down by a well and slept. And so at afternoon, dame\nElaine and her maidens came into the garden to play them, and as they\nroamed up and down, one of dame Elaine\u2019s maidens espied where lay a\ngoodly man by the well sleeping, and anon shewed him to dame Elaine.\nPeace, said dame Elaine, and say no word; and then she brought dame\nElaine where he lay. And when that she beheld him, anon she fell in\nremembrance of him, and knew him verily for Sir Launcelot, and\ntherewithal she fell on weeping so heartily that she sank even to the\nearth. And when she had thus wept a great while, then she arose and\ncalled her maidens, and said she was sick. And so she went out of the\ngarden, and she went straight to her father, and there she took him\napart by herself, and then she said, Oh father, now have I need of your\nhelp, and but if that ye help me, farewell my good days for ever. What\nis that, daughter? said king Pelles. Sir, she said, thus is it: in your\ngarden I went for to sport, and there by the well I found Sir Launcelot\ndu Lake sleeping. I may not believe that, said king Pelles. Sir, she\nsaid, truly he is there, and me seemeth he should be distract out of\nhis wit. Then hold you still, said the king, and let me deal. Then the\nking called to him such as he most trusted, a four persons, and dame\nElaine his daughter. And when they came to the well and beheld Sir\nLauncelot, anon dame Brisen knew him. Sir, said dame Brisen, we must be\nwise how we deal with him, for this knight is out of his mind, and if\nwe awake him rudely, what he will do we all know not. But ye shall\nabide, and I shall throw such an enchantment upon him that he shall not\nawake within the space of an hour; and so she did. Then within a little\nwhile after king Pelles commanded that all people should avoid, that\nnone should be in that way there as the king would come. And so when\nthis was done, these four men and these ladies laid hand on Sir\nLauncelot. And so they bare him into a tower, and so into a chamber\nwhere was the holy vessel of the Sancgreal, and by force Sir Launcelot\nwas laid by that holy vessel, and there came a holy man and uncovered\nthat vessel, and so by miracle, and by virtue of that holy vessel, Sir\nLauncelot was healed and recovered. And when that he was awaked he\ngroaned and sighed, and complained greatly that he was passing sore.\n_How Sir Launcelot, after that he was whole and had his mind, he was\n ashamed, and how that Elaine desired a castle for him._\nAnd when Sir Launcelot saw king Pelles and Elaine he waxed ashamed, and\nsaid thus: Oh Lord Jesu, how came I here? For God\u2019s sake, my lord, let\nme wit how I came here? Sir, said dame Elaine, into this country ye\ncame like a mad man clean out of your wit. And here have ye been kept\nas a fool, and no creature here knew what ye were, until by fortune a\nmaiden of mine brought me unto you, where as ye lay sleeping by a well,\nand anon, as I verily beheld you, I knew you. And then I told my\nfather, and so were ye brought afore this holy vessel, and by the\nvirtue of it thus were ye healed. O, said Sir Launcelot, if this be\nsooth, how many there be that know of my woodness. Truly, said Elaine,\nno more but my father and I and dame Brisen. Now, I pray you, said Sir\nLauncelot, keep it in counsel, and let no man know it in the world, for\nI am sore ashamed that I have been thus miscarried, for I am banished\nout of the country of Logris for ever, that is for to say, the country\nof England. And so Sir Launcelot lay more than a fortnight, or ever\nthat he might stir for soreness. And then upon a day he said unto dame\nElaine these words: Lady Elaine, for your sake I have had much travel,\ncare, and anguish, it needeth not to rehearse it, ye know how.\nNotwithstanding I know well I have done foul to you, when that I drew\nmy sword to you, for to have slain you. And all was the cause that ye\nand dame Brisen deceived me. That is truth, said dame Elaine. Now will\nye for my love, said Sir Launcelot, go unto your father, and get me a\nplace of him wherein I may dwell: for in the court of king Arthur may I\nnever come. Sir, said dame Elaine, I will live and die with you, and\nonly for your sake, and if my life might not avail you, and my death\nmight avail you, wit ye well I would die for your sake. And I will go\nto my father, and I am sure there is nothing that I can desire of him\nbut I shall have it. And where ye be, my lord Sir Launcelot, doubt ye\nnot but I will be with you with all the service that I may do. So\nforthwithal she went to her father, and said, Sir, my lord Sir\nLauncelot desireth to be here by you in some castle of yours. Well,\ndaughter, said the king, sith it is his desire to abide in these\nmarches, he shall be in the castle of Bliant, and there shall ye be\nwith him, and twenty of the fairest ladies that be in this country, and\nthey shall all be of the great blood; and ye shall have ten knights\nwith you. For, daughter, I will that ye wit we all be honoured by the\nblood of Sir Launcelot.\n_How Sir Launcelot came into the Joyous Isle, and there he named\n himself Le Chevaler Mal Fet._\nThen went dame Elaine unto Sir Launcelot, and told him all how her\nfather had devised for him and her. Then came the knight Sir Castor,\nthat was nephew unto king Pelles, unto Sir Launcelot, and asked him\nwhat was his name? Sir, said Sir Launcelot, my name is Le Chevaler Mal\nFet, that is to say, the knight that hath trespassed. Sir, said Sir\nCastor, it may well be so, but ever me seemeth your name should be Sir\nLauncelot du Lake, for or now I have seen you. Sir, said Launcelot, ye\nare not as a gentle knight: I put case my name were Sir Launcelot, and\nthat it list me not to discover my name; what should it grieve you here\nto keep my counsel, and ye not hurt thereby? But wit thou well, and\never it lie in my power I shall grieve you, and that I promise you\ntruly. Then Sir Castor kneeled down and besought Sir Launcelot of\nmercy:\u2014For I shall never utter what ye be while that ye be in these\nparts. Then Sir Launcelot pardoned him. And then after this king Pelles\nwith ten knights, and dame Elaine and twenty ladies, rode unto the\ncastle of Bliant, that stood in an island enclosed in iron, with a fair\nwater, deep and large. And when they were there Sir Launcelot let call\nit the Joyous Isle, and there was he called none otherwise but Le\nChevaler Mal Fet, the knight that hath trespassed. Then Sir Launcelot\nlet make him a shield all of sable, and a queen crowned in the midst\nall of silver, and a knight, clean armed, kneeling before her; and\nevery day once, for any mirths that all the ladies might make him, he\nwould once every day look towards the realm of Logris where king Arthur\nand queen Guenever were. And then would he fall upon a weeping as\nthough his heart should to-brast. So it fell that time that Sir\nLauncelot heard of a justing fast by his castle, within three leagues.\nThen he called unto him a dwarf, and he bade him go unto that justing,\nand, or ever the knights depart, look thou make there a cry in the\nhearing of all the knights, that there is one knight in the Joyous\nIsle, that is the castle Bliant, and say that his name is Le Chevaler\nMal Fet, that will just against knights that will come; and who that\nputteth that knight to the worse shall have a fair maid and a jerfalcon.\n_Of a great tourneying in the Joyous Isle, and how Sir Percivale and\n Sir Ector came thither, and Sir Percivale fought with him._\nSo when this cry was made, unto Joyous Isle drew knights to the number\nof five hundred. And wit ye well there was never seen in Arthur\u2019s days\none knight that did so much deeds of arms as Sir Launcelot did three\ndays together. For, as the book maketh truly mention, he had the better\nof all the five hundred knights, and there was not one slain of them.\nAnd after that Sir Launcelot made them all a great feast. And in the\nmeanwhile came Sir Percivale de Galis and Sir Ector de Maris under that\ncastle that was called the Joyous Isle. And as they beheld that gay\ncastle they would have gone to that castle, but they might not for the\nbroad water, and bridge could they find none. Then they saw on the\nother side a lady with a sperhawk in her hand, and Sir Percivale called\nunto her, and asked that lady who was in that castle. Fair knight, she\nsaid, here within this castle is the fairest lady in this land, and her\nname is Elaine. Also we have in this castle the fairest knight and the\nmightiest man that is, I dare say, living, and he calleth himself Le\nChevaler Mal Fet. How came he into these marches? said Sir Percivale.\nTruly, said the damsel, he came into this country like a mad man, with\ndogs and boys chasing him through the city of Corbin; and by the holy\nvessel of the Sancgreal he was brought into his wit again, but he will\nnot do battle with no knight but by undorne or by noon. And if ye list\nto come into the castle, said the lady, ye must ride unto the further\nside of the castle, and there shall ye find a vessel that will bear you\nand your horse. Then they departed and came unto the vessel. And then\nSir Percivale alight, and said to Sir Ector de Maris, Ye shall abide me\nhere until that I wit what manner a knight he is. For it were shame\nunto us, inasmuch as he is but one knight, and we should both do battle\nwith him. Do ye as ye list, said Sir Ector de Maris, and here I shall\nabide you until that I hear of you. Then passed Sir Percivale the\nwater. And when he came to the castle-gate, he bad the porter, Go thou\nto the good knight within the castle, and tell him here is come an\nerrant knight to just with him. Sir, said the porter, ride ye within\nthe castle, and there is a common place for justing, that lords and\nladies may behold you. So anon as Sir Launcelot had warning, he was\nsoon ready; and there Sir Percivale and Sir Launcelot encountered with\nsuch a might, and their spears were so rude, that both the horses and\nthe knights fell to the earth. Then they avoided their horses and flang\nout noble swords, and hewed away cantels of their shields, and hurtled\ntogether with their shields like two boars, and either wounded other\npassing sore. At the last Sir Percivale spake first, when they had\nfoughten there more than two hours. Fair knight, said Sir Percivale, I\nrequire thee tell me thy name, for I met never with such a knight. Sir,\nsaid Sir Launcelot, my name is Le Chevaler Mal Fet: now tell me your\nname, said Sir Launcelot, I require you gentle knight. Truly, said Sir\nPercivale, my name is Sir Percivale de Galis, that was brother unto the\ngood knight Sir Lamorak de Galis, and king Pellinore was our father,\nand Sir Aglovale is my brother. Alas, said Sir Launcelot, what have I\ndone to fight with you that art a knight of the Table Round, that\nsometime was your fellow!\n_How each of them knew other, and of their great courtesy. And how his\n brother Sir Ector came unto him, and of their joy._\nAnd therewithal Sir Launcelot kneeled down upon his knees, and threw\naway his shield and his sword from him. When Sir Percivale saw him do\nso, he marvelled what he meaned. And then thus he said, Sir knight,\nwhatsoever thou be, I require thee upon the high order of knighthood\ntell me thy true name. Then he said, Truly my name is Sir Launcelot du\nLake, king Ban\u2019s son of Benoy. Alas, said Sir Percivale, what have I\ndone! I was sent by the queen for to seek you, and so I have sought you\nnigh this two year; and yonder is Sir Ector de Maris your brother\nabideth me on the other side of the yonder water. Now, said Sir\nPercivale, I pray you forgive me mine offence that I have here done. It\nis soon forgiven, said Sir Launcelot. Then Sir Percivale sent for Sir\nEctor de Maris. And when Sir Launcelot had a sight of him, he ran unto\nhim and took him in his arms, and then Sir Ector kneeled down and\neither wept upon other, that all had pity to behold them. Then came\ndame Elaine, and she there made them great cheer as might lie in her\npower; and there she told Sir Ector and Sir Percivale how and in what\nmanner Sir Launcelot came into that country, and how he was healed. And\nthere it was known how long Sir Launcelot was with Sir Bliant and with\nSir Selivant, and how he first met with them, and how he departed from\nthem because of a boar; and how the hermit healed Sir Launcelot of his\ngreat wound, and how that he came to Corbin.\n_How Sir Bors and Sir Lionel came to king Brandegore, and how Sir Bors\n took his son Helin le Blank, and of Sir Launcelot._\nNow leave we Sir Launcelot in the Joyous Isle with the lady dame\nElaine, and Sir Percivale and Sir Ector playing with them, and turn we\nto Sir Bors de Ganis and Sir Lionel, that had sought Sir Launcelot nigh\nby the space of two years, and never could they hear of him. And as\nthey thus rode by adventure, they came to the house of Brandegore, and\nthere Sir Bors was well known, for he had a child of the king\u2019s\ndaughter fifteen years before, and his name was Helin le Blank. And\nwhen Sir Bors saw that child it liked him passing well. And so those\nknights had good cheer of the king Brandegore. And on the morn Sir Bors\ncame afore king Brandegore, and said, Here is my son Helin le Blank,\nthat as it is said he is my son; and since it is so, I will that ye wit\nI will have him with me unto the court of king Arthur. Sir, said the\nking, ye may well take him with you, but he is over tender of age. As\nfor that, said Sir Bors, I will have him with me, and bring him to the\nhouse of most worship of the world. So when Sir Bors should depart,\nthere was made great sorrow for the departing of Helin le Blank, and\ngreat weeping was there made. But Sir Bors and Sir Lionel departed. And\nwithin a while they came to Camelot, where was king Arthur. And when\nking Arthur understood that Helin le Blank was Sir Bors\u2019 son, and\nnephew unto king Brandegore, then king Arthur let him make knight of\nthe Round Table; and so he proved a good knight and an adventurous.\nNow will we turn to our matter of Sir Launcelot. It befel upon a day\nSir Ector and Sir Percivale came to Sir Launcelot and asked him what he\nwould do, and whether he would go with them unto king Arthur or not?\nNay, said Sir Launcelot, that may not be by no mean; for I was so\nentreated at the court that I cast me never to come there more. Sir,\nsaid Sir Ector, I am your brother, and ye are the man in the world that\nI love most, and if I understood that it were your disworship, ye may\nunderstand I would never counsel you thereto; but king Arthur and all\nhis knights, and in especial queen Guenever, made such dole and sorrow\nthat it was marvel to hear and see. And ye must remember the great\nworship and renown that ye be of, how that ye have been more spoken of\nthan any other knight that is now living; for there is none that\nbeareth the name now but ye and Sir Tristram; therefore, brother, said\nSir Ector, make you ready to ride to the court with us, and I dare say\nthere was never knight better welcome to the court than ye: and I wot\nwell, and can make it good, said Sir Ector, it hath cost my lady the\nqueen twenty thousand pound the seeking of you. Well, brother, said Sir\nLauncelot, I will do after your counsel, and ride with you. So then\nthey took their horses, and made them ready, and took their leave at\nking Pelles and at dame Elaine. And when Sir Launcelot should depart,\ndame Elaine made great sorrow. My lord Sir Launcelot, said dame Elaine,\nat this same feast of Pentecost shall your son and mine, Galahad, be\nmade knight, for he is fully now fifteen winter old. Do as ye list,\nsaid Sir Launcelot, God give him grace to prove a good knight. As for\nthat, said dame Elaine, I doubt not he shall prove the best man of his\nkin, except one. Then shall he be a man good enough, said Sir Launcelot.\n_How Sir Launcelot with Sir Percivale and Sir Ector came to the court,\n and of the great joy of him._\nThen they departed, and within five days\u2019 journey they came to Camelot,\nthat is called in English, Winchester. And when Sir Launcelot was come\namong them, the king and all the knights made great joy of him. And\nthere Sir Percivale de Galis and Sir Ector de Maris began and told the\nwhole adventures, that Sir Launcelot had been out of his mind the time\nof his absence, how he called himself Le Chevaler Mal Fet, the knight\nthat had trespassed, and in three days Sir Launcelot smote down five\nhundred knights. And ever, as Sir Ector and Sir Percivale told these\ntales of Sir Launcelot, queen Guenever wept as she should have died.\nThen the queen made great cheer. Truly, said king Arthur, I marvel for\nwhat cause ye Sir Launcelot went out of your mind? I and many others\ndeem it was for the love of fair Elaine, the daughter of king Pelles,\nby whom ye are noised that ye have a child, and his name is Galahad;\nand men say he shall do marvels. My lord, said Sir Launcelot, if I did\nany folly, I have that I sought. And therewithal the king spake no\nmore; but all Sir Launcelot\u2019s kin knew for whom he went out of his\nmind. And then there were great feasts made and great joy. And many\ngreat lords and ladies, when they heard that Sir Launcelot was come to\nthe court again, they made great joy.\n_How La Beale Isoud counselled Sir Tristram to go unto the court to the\n great feast of Pentecost._\nNow will we leave of this matter, and speak we of Sir Tristram and of\nSir Palamides, that was the Saracen unchristened. When Sir Tristram was\ncome home unto Joyous Gard from his adventures, all this while that Sir\nLauncelot was thus missed two year and more, Sir Tristram bare the\nrenown through all the realm of Logris, and many strange adventures\nbefel him, and full well and manly and worshipfully he brought them to\nan end. So when he was come home, La Beale Isoud told him of the great\nfeast that should be at Pentecost next following; and there she told\nhim how Sir Launcelot had been missed two years, and all that while he\nhad been out of his mind, and how he was holpen by the holy vessel the\nSancgreal. Alas, said Sir Tristram, that caused some debate betwixt him\nand queen Guenever. Sir, said dame Isoud, I know it all, for queen\nGuenever sent me a letter, in the which she wrote me all how it was,\nfor to require you to seek him; and now, blessed be God, said La Beale\nIsoud, he is whole and sound, and come again to the court. Thereof am I\nglad, said Sir Tristram, and now shall ye and I make us ready, for both\nye and I will be at the feast. Sir, said Isoud, and it please you I\nwill not be there, for through me ye be marked of many good knights,\nand that causeth you to have much more labour for my sake than needeth\nyou. Then will I not be there, said Sir Tristram, but if ye be there.\nNot so, said La Beale Isoud, for then shall I be spoken of shame among\nall queens and ladies of estate, for ye that are called one of the\nnoblest knights of the world, and ye a knight of the Round Table, how\nmay ye be missed at that feast? What shall be said among all\nknights?\u2014See how Sir Tristram hunteth, and hawketh, and cowereth\nwithin a castle with his lady, and forsaketh your worship. Alas, shall\nsome say, it is pity that ever he was made knight, or that ever he\nshould have the love of a lady. Also what shall queens and ladies say\nof me?\u2014It is pity that I have my life, that I will hold so noble a\nknight as ye are from his worship. Truly, said Sir Tristram unto La\nBeale Isoud, it is passing well said of you, and nobly counselled, and\nnow I well understand that ye love me; and like as ye have counselled\nme, I will do a part thereafter. But there shall no man nor child ride\nwith me, but myself. And so will I ride on Tuesday next coming, and no\nmore harness of war but my spear and my sword.\n_How Sir Tristram departed unarmed, and met with Sir Palamides, and how\n they smote each other, and how Sir Palamides forbare him._\nAnd so when the day came, Sir Tristram took his leave at La Beale\nIsoud; and she sent with him four knights, and within half a mile he\nsent them again: and within a mile after Sir Tristram saw afore him\nwhere Sir Palamides had stricken down a knight, and almost wounded him\nto the death. Then Sir Tristram repented him that he was not armed, and\nthen he hoved still. With that Sir Palamides knew Sir Tristram, and\ncried on high, Sir Tristram, now be we met, for or we depart we will\nredress our old sores! As for that, said Sir Tristram, there was never\nyet Christian man that might make his boast that ever I fled from him;\nand wit ye well Sir Palamides, thou that art a Saracen shall never make\nthy boast that Sir Tristram de Liones shall flee from thee. And\ntherewith Sir Tristram made his horse to run, and with all his might he\ncame straight upon Sir Palamides, and brast his spear upon him in an\nhundred pieces. And forthwithal Sir Tristram drew his sword. And then\nhe turned his horse and struck at Palamides six great strokes upon his\nhelm, and then Sir Palamides stood still and beheld Sir Tristram, and\nmarvelled of his woodness and of his folly. And then Sir Palamides said\nto himself, And Sir Tristram were armed it were hard to cease him of\nthis battle, and if I turn again and slay him I am shamed wheresoever\nthat I go. Then Sir Tristram spake, and said, Thou coward knight, what\ncastest thou to do? why wilt thou not do battle with me, for have thou\nno doubt I shall endure all thy malice. Ah, Sir Tristram, said Sir\nPalamides, full well thou wotest I may not fight with thee for shame,\nfor thou art here naked, and I am armed, and if I slay thee dishonour\nshall be mine. And well thou wotest, said Sir Palamides to Sir\nTristram, I know thy strength and thy hardiness to endure against a\ngood knight. That is truth, said Sir Tristram, I understand thy\nvaliantness well. Ye say well, said Sir Palamides, now I require you\ntell me a question that I shall say to you. Tell me what it is, said\nSir Tristram, and I shall answer you the truth. I put the case, said\nSir Palamides, that ye were armed at all rights as well as I am, and I\nnaked as ye be, what would ye do to me now by your true knighthood? Ah,\nsaid Sir Tristram, now I understand thee well, Sir Palamides, for now\nmust I say my own judgment, and, as God me bless, that I shall say\nshall not be said for no fear that I have of thee. But this is all;\nwit, Sir Palamides, as at this time thou shouldest depart from me, for\nI would not have ado with thee. No more will I, said Sir Palamides, and\ntherefore ride forth on thy way. As for that I may choose, said Sir\nTristram, either to ride or to abide. But Sir Palamides, said Sir\nTristram, I marvel of one thing, that thou that art so good a knight,\nthat thou wilt not be christened, and thy brother Sir Safere hath been\nchristened many a day.\n_How that Sir Tristram gat him harness of a knight which was hurt, and\n how he overthrew Sir Palamides._\nAs for that, said Sir Palamides, I may not yet be christened, for one\navow that I have made many years agone; howbeit in my heart I believe\nin Jesus Christ and his mild mother Mary; but I have but one battle to\ndo, and when that is done I will be baptised with a good will. By my\nhead, said Sir Tristram, as for one battle thou shalt not seek it no\nlonger. For God defend, said Sir Tristram, that through my default thou\nshouldest longer live thus a Saracen. For yonder is a knight that ye,\nSir Palamides, have hurt and smitten down; now help me that I were\narmed in his armour, and I shall soon fulfil thine avows. As ye will,\nsaid Sir Palamides, so it shall be. So they rode unto that knight that\nsat upon a bank, and then Sir Tristram saluted him, and he weakly\nsaluted him again. Sir knight, said Sir Tristram, I require you tell me\nyour right name. Sir, he said, my name is Sir Galleron of Galway, and\nknight of the Table Round. Truly, said Sir Tristram, I am right heavy\nof your hurts: but this is all, I must pray you to lend me all your\nwhole armour, for ye see I am unarmed, and I must do battle with this\nknight. Sir, said the hurt knight, ye shall have it with a good will;\nbut ye must beware, for I warn you that knight is wight. Sir, said\nGalleron, I pray you tell me your name, and what is that knight\u2019s name\nthat hath beaten me. Sir, as for my name, it is Sir Tristram de Liones,\nand as for the knight\u2019s name that hath hurt you, it is Sir Palamides,\nbrother unto the good knight Sir Safere, and yet is Sir Palamides\nunchristened. Alas, said Sir Galleron, that is pity that so good a\nknight and so noble a man of arms should be unchristened. Truly, said\nSir Tristram, either he shall slay me, or I him, but that he shall be\nchristened or ever we depart in sunder. My lord Sir Tristram, said Sir\nGalleron, your renown and worship is well known through many realms,\nand God save you this day from shenship and shame. Then Sir Tristram\nunarmed Galleron, the which was a noble knight and had done many deeds\nof arms, and he was a large knight of flesh and bone. And when he was\nunarmed he stood upon his feet, for he was bruised in the back with a\nspear; yet, so as Sir Galleron might, he armed Sir Tristram. And then\nSir Tristram mounted upon his own horse, and in his hand he gat Sir\nGalleron\u2019s spear. And therewithal Sir Palamides was ready, and so they\ncame hurtling together, and either smote other in the midst of their\nshields, and therewithal Sir Palamides\u2019 spear brake, and Sir Tristram\nsmote down the horse; and then Sir Palamides, as soon as he might,\navoided his horse, and dressed his shield, and pulled out his sword.\nThat saw Sir Tristram, and therewith he alight, and tied his horse to a\ntree.\n_How Sir Tristram and Sir Palamides fought long together, and after\n accorded; and how Sir Tristram made him to be christened._\nAnd then they came together as two wild boars, lashing together,\ntracing and traversing as noble men that oft had been well proved in\nbattle; but ever Sir Palamides dread the might of Sir Tristram, and\ntherefore he suffered him to breathe him. Thus they fought more than\ntwo hours; and often Sir Tristram smote such strokes at Sir Palamides\nthat he made him to kneel; and Sir Palamides brake and cut away many\npieces of Sir Tristram\u2019s shield, and then Sir Palamides wounded Sir\nTristram, for he was a well fighting man. Then Sir Tristram was wood\nwrath out of measure, and rashed upon Sir Palamides with such a might\nthat Sir Palamides fell groveling to the earth, and therewithal he\nleapt up lightly upon his feet, and then Sir Tristram wounded Sir\nPalamides sore through the shoulder. And ever Sir Tristram fought still\nin like hard, and Sir Palamides failed not, but gave him many sad\nstrokes. And at the last Sir Tristram doubled his strokes, and by\nfortune Sir Tristram smote Sir Palamides\u2019 sword out of his hand, and if\nSir Palamides had stooped for his sword, he had been slain. Then\nPalamides stood still and beheld his sword with a sorrowful heart. How\nnow, said Sir Tristram unto Palamides, now have I thee at advantage as\nthou hadst me this day, but it shall never be said in no court, nor\namong good knights, that Sir Tristram shall slay any knight that is\nweaponless, and therefore take thou thy sword, and let us make an end\nof this battle. As for to do this battle, said Palamides, I dare right\nwell end it; but I have no great lust to fight no more, and for this\ncause, said Palamides, mine offence to you is not so great but that we\nmay be friends. All that I have offended is and was for the love of La\nBeale Isoud. And as for her, I dare say she is peerless above all other\nladies, and also I proffered her never no dishonour; and by her I have\ngotten the most part of my worship, and sithen I offended never as to\nher own person. And as for the offence that I have done, it was against\nyour own person, and for that offence ye have given me this day many\nsad strokes, and some I have given you again; and now I dare say I felt\nnever man of your might, nor so well breathed, but if it were Sir\nLauncelot du Lake. Wherefore I require you, my lord, forgive me all\nthat I have offended unto you. And this same day have me to the next\nchurch, and first let me be clean confessed, and after see you now that\nI be truly baptized. And then will we all ride together unto the court\nof Arthur, that we be there at the high feast. Now take your horse,\nsaid Sir Tristram, and as ye say, so it shall be; and all your evil\nwill God forgive it you, and I do. And here, within this mile, is the\nsuffragan of Carlisle, that shall give you the sacrament of baptism.\nThen they took their horses, and Sir Galleron rode with them. And when\nthey came to the suffragan Sir Tristram told him their desire. Then the\nsuffragan let fill a great vessel with water. And when he had hallowed\nit, he then confessed clean Sir Palamides, and Sir Tristram and Sir\nGalleron were his godfathers. And then soon after they departed, riding\ntowards Camelot, where king Arthur and queen Guenever was, and for the\nmost part all the knights of the Round Table. And so the king and all\nthe court were glad that Sir Palamides was christened. And at the same\nfeast in came Galahad and sat in the Siege Perilous.\nAnd so therewithal departed and dissevered all the knights of the Round\nTable. And Sir Tristram returned again unto Joyous Gard, and Sir\nPalamides followed the questing beast.\nHere endeth the second book of syr Tristram that was drawen oute of\n Frensshe in to Englysshe.\nBut here is no rehersal of the thyrd book. And here foloweth the noble\n tale of the Sancgreal that called is the hooly vessel and the\n sygnefycacyon of the blessid blood of our lord Jhesu Cryste, blessid\n mote it be, the which was brought in to this land by Joseph of\n Armathye, therefor on al synful souls blessid lord haue thou mercy.\n Explicit liber xii. Et incipit Decimustercius.\n_How at the Vigil of the feast of Pentecost entered into the hall,\n before king Arthur, a damsel, and desired Sir Launcelot for to come\n and dub a knight, and how he went with her._\nAt the vigil of Pentecost, when all the fellowship of the Round Table\nwere comen unto Camelot, and there heard their service, and the tables\nwere set ready to the meat, right so entered into the hall a full fair\ngentlewoman on horseback, that had ridden full fast, for her horse was\nall besweat. Then she there alight, and came before the king, and\nsaluted him; and then he said, Damsel, God thee bless! Sir, said she, I\npray you say me where Sir Launcelot is? Yonder ye may see him, said the\nking. Then she went unto Launcelot and said, Sir Launcelot, I salute\nyou on king Pelles\u2019 behalf, and I require you come on with me hereby\ninto a forest. Then Sir Launcelot asked her with whom she dwelled? I\ndwell, said she, with king Pelles. What will ye with me? said Sir\nLauncelot. Ye shall know, said she, when ye come thither. Well, said\nhe, I will gladly go with you. So Sir Launcelot bade his squire saddle\nhis horse and bring his arms; and in all haste he did his commandment.\nThen came the queen unto Launcelot and said, Will ye leave us at this\nhigh feast? Madam, said the gentlewoman, wit ye well he shall be with\nyou to-morrow by dinner-time. If I wist, said the queen, that he should\nnot be with us here to-morn, he should not go with you by my good will.\nRight so departed Sir Launcelot with the gentlewoman, and rode until\nthat he came into a forest, and into a great valley, where they saw an\nabbey of nuns; and there was a squire ready, and opened the gates; and\nso they entered, and descended off their horses, and there came a fair\nfellowship about Sir Launcelot and welcomed him, and were passing glad\nof his coming. And then they led him into the Abbess\u2019s chamber, and\nunarmed him, and right so he was ware upon a bed lying two of his\ncousins, Sir Bors and Sir Lionel, and then he waked them, and when they\nsaw him they made great joy. Sir, said Sir Bors unto Sir Launcelot,\nwhat adventure hath brought thee hither, for we wend to-morrow to have\nfound you at Camelot? Truly, said Sir Launcelot, a gentlewoman brought\nme hither, but I know not the cause. In the meanwhile, as they thus\nstood talking together, there came twelve nuns which brought with them\nGalahad, the which was passing fair and well made, that unneth in the\nworld men might not find his match; and all those ladies wept. Sir,\nsaid the ladies, we bring you here this child, the which we have\nnourished, and we pray you to make him a knight; for of a more worthier\nman\u2019s hand may he not receive the order of knighthood. Sir Launcelot\nbeheld that young squire, and saw him seemly and demure as a dove, with\nall manner of good features, that he wend of his age never to have seen\nso fair a man of form. Then said Sir Launcelot, Cometh this desire of\nhimself? He and all they said, Yea. Then shall he, said Sir Launcelot,\nreceive the high order of knighthood as to-morrow at the reverence of\nthe high feast. That night Sir Launcelot had passing good cheer, and on\nthe morn at the hour of prime, at Galahad\u2019s desire, he made him knight,\nand said, God make him a good man, For beauty faileth you not as any\nthat liveth.\n_How the letters were found written in the siege perilous, and of the\n marvellous adventure of the sword in a stone._\nNow, fair sir, said Sir Launcelot, will ye come with me unto the court\nof king Arthur? Nay, said he, I will not go with you as at this time.\nThen he departed from them and took his two cousins with him, and so\nthey came unto Camelot by the hour of undorne on Whitsunday. By that\ntime the king and the queen were gone to the minster to hear their\nservice: then the king and the queen were passing glad of Sir Bors and\nSir Lionel, and so was all the fellowship. So when the king and all the\nknights were come from service, the barons espied in the sieges of the\nRound Table, all about written with gold letters. Here ought to sit he,\nand he ought to sit here. And thus they went so long until that they\ncame to the siege perilous, where they found letters newly written of\ngold, that said: Four hundred winters and fifty-four accomplished after\nthe passion of our Lord Jesu Christ ought this siege to be fulfilled.\nThen all they said, This is a marvellous thing, and an adventurous. In\nthe name of God, said Sir Launcelot; and then he accounted the term of\nthe writing, from the birth of our Lord unto that day. It seemeth me,\nsaid Sir Launcelot, this siege ought to be fulfilled this same day, for\nthis is the Feast of Pentecost after the four hundred and four and\nfifty year; and if it would please all parties, I would none of these\nletters were seen this day, till he be come that ought to achieve this\nadventure. Then made they to ordain a cloth of silk for to cover these\nletters in the siege perilous. Then the king bad haste unto dinner.\nSir, said Sir Kay the steward, if ye go now unto your meat, ye shall\nbreak your old custom of your court. For ye have not used on this day\nto sit at your meat or that ye have seen some adventure. Ye say sooth,\nsaid the king, but I had so great joy of Sir Launcelot and of his\ncousins, which be come to the court whole and sound, that I bethought\nme not of my old custom. So as they stood speaking, in came a squire,\nand said unto the king, Sir, I bring unto you marvellous tidings. What\nbe they? said the king. Sir, there is here beneath at the river a great\nstone, which I saw fleet above the water, and therein saw I sticking a\nsword. The king said, I will see that marvel. So all the knights went\nwith him, and when they came unto the river, they found there a stone\nfleeting, as it were of red marble, and therein stack a fair and a rich\nsword, and in the pomell thereof were precious stones, wrought with\nsubtil letters of gold. Then the barons read the letters, which said in\nthis wise: Never shall man take me hence but only he by whose side I\nought to hang, and he shall be the best knight of the world. When the\nking had seen these letters, he said unto Sir Launcelot, Fair sir, this\nsword ought to be yours, for I am sure ye be the best knight of the\nworld. Then Sir Launcelot answered full soberly: Certes, sir, it is not\nmy sword: also, sir, wit ye well I have no hardiness to set my hand to,\nfor it longed not to hang by my side. Also who that assayeth to take\nthat sword, and faileth of it, he shall receive a wound by that sword,\nthat he shall not be whole long after. And I will that ye wit that this\nsame day will the adventures of the Sancgreal, that is called the holy\nvessel, begin.\n_How Sir Gawaine assayed to draw out the sword, and how an old man\n brought in Galahad._\nNow, fair nephew, said the king unto Sir Gawaine, assay ye for my love.\nSir, he said, save your good grace, I shall not do that. Sir, said the\nking, assay to take the sword, and at my commandment. Sir, said\nGawaine, your commandment I will obey. And therewith he took up the\nsword by the handles, but he might not stir it. I thank you, said the\nking to Sir Gawaine. My lord Sir Gawaine, said Sir Launcelot, now wit\nye well, this sword shall touch you so sore that ye shall will ye had\nnever set your hand thereto, for the best castle of this realm. Sir, he\nsaid, I might not withsay mine uncle\u2019s will and commandment. But when\nthe king heard this, he repented it much, and said unto Sir Percivale\nthat he should assay for his love. And he said, Gladly, for to bear Sir\nGawaine fellowship. And therewith he set his hand on the sword, and\ndrew it strongly, but he might not move it. Then were there more that\ndurst be so hardy to set their hands thereto. Now may ye go to your\ndinner, said Sir Kay unto the king, for a marvellous adventure have ye\nseen. So the king and all went unto the court, and every knight knew\nhis own place, and set him therein, and young men that were knights\nserved them. So when they were served, and all sieges fulfilled, save\nonly the siege perilous, anon there befell a marvellous adventure, that\nall the doors and the windows of the place shut by themself. Not for\nthen the hall was not greatly darkened, and therewith they abashed both\none and other. Then king Arthur spake first, and said, Fair fellows and\nlords, we have seen this day marvels, but or night I suppose we shall\nsee greater marvels. In the mean while came in a good old man, and an\nancient, clothed all in white, and there was no knight knew from whence\nhe came. And with him he brought a young knight, both on foot, in red\narms, without sword or shield, save a scabbard hanging by his side. And\nthese words he said, Peace be with you, fair lords. Then the old man\nsaid unto Arthur, Sir, I bring here a young knight the which is of\nking\u2019s lineage, and of the kindred of Joseph of Arimathie, whereby the\nmarvels of this court and of strange realms shall be fully accomplished.\n_How the old man brought Galahad to the siege perilous and set him\n therein, and how all the knights marvelled._\nThe king was right glad of his words, and said unto the good man, Sir,\nye be right welcome, and the young knight with you. Then the old man\nmade the young man to unarm him; and he was in a coat of red sendel,\nand bare a mantle upon his shoulder that was furred with ermine, and\nput that upon him. And the old knight said unto the young knight, Sir,\nfollow me. And anon he led him unto the siege perilous, where beside\nsat Sir Launcelot, and the good man lift up the cloth, and found there\nletters that said thus: This is the siege of Galahad the haut prince.\nSir, said the old knight, wit ye well that place is yours. And then he\nset him down surely in that siege. And then he said to the old man,\nSir, ye may now go your way, for well have ye done that ye were\ncommanded to do. And recommend me unto my grandsire king Pelles, and\nunto my lord Petchere, and say them on my behalf, I shall come and see\nthem as soon as ever I may. So the good man departed, and there met him\ntwenty noble squires, and so took their horses and went their way. Then\nall the knights of the Table Round marvelled them greatly of Sir\nGalahad, that he durst sit there in that siege perilous, and was so\ntender of age, and wist not from whence he came, but all only by God,\nand said, This is he by whom the Sancgreal shall be achieved, for there\nsat never none but he, but he were mischieved. Then Sir Launcelot\nbeheld his son, and had great joy of him. Then Sir Bors told his\nfellows, Upon pain of my life this young knight shall come unto great\nworship. This noise was great in all the court, so that it came to the\nqueen. Then she had marvel what knight it might be that durst adventure\nhim to sit in the siege perilous. Many said unto the queen, he\nresembled much unto Sir Launcelot. I may well suppose, said the queen,\nthat he is son of Sir Launcelot and king Pelles\u2019 daughter, and his name\nis Galahad. I would fain see him, said the queen, for he must needs be\na noble man, for so is his father; I report me unto all the Table\nRound. So when the meat was done, that the king and all were risen, the\nking went unto the siege perilous, and lift up the cloth, and found\nthere the name of Galahad, and then he shewed it unto Sir Gawaine, and\nsaid, Fair nephew, now have we among us Sir Galahad the good knight,\nthat shall worship us all, and upon pain of my life he shall achieve\nthe Sancgreal, right so as Sir Launcelot hath done us to understand.\nThen came king Arthur unto Galahad, and said, Sir, ye be welcome, for\nye shall move many good knights to the quest of the Sancgreal, and ye\nshall achieve that never knights might bring to an end. Then the king\ntook him by the hand, and went down from the palace to shew Galahad the\nadventures of the stone.\n_How king Arthur shewed the stone, hoving on the water, to Galahad, and\n how he drew out the sword._\nThe queen heard thereof, and came after with many ladies, and shewed\nthem the stone where it hoved on the water. Sir, said the king unto Sir\nGalahad, here is a great marvel as ever I saw, and right good knights\nhave assayed and failed. Sir, said Galahad, that is no marvel, for this\nadventure is not theirs, but mine, and for the surety of this sword I\nbrought none with me; for here by my side hangeth the scabbard. And\nanon he laid his hand on the sword, and lightly drew it out of the\nstone, and put it in the sheath and said unto the king, Now it goeth\nbetter than it did aforehand. Sir, said the king, a shield God shall\nsend you. Now have I, said Sir Galahad, that sword that sometime was\nthe good knight\u2019s Balin le Savage, and he was a passing good man of his\nhands. And with this sword he slew his brother Balan, and that was\ngreat pity, for he was a good knight, and either slew other through a\ndolorous stroke that Balan gave unto my grandfather king Pelles, the\nwhich is not yet whole, nor not shall be till I heal him. Therewith the\nking and all espied where came riding down the river a lady on a white\npalfrey toward them. Then she saluted the king and the queen, and asked\nif that Sir Launcelot was there? And then he answered himself, I am\nhere, fair lady. Then she said, all with weeping, How your great doing\nis changed sith this day in the morn. Damsel, why say ye so? said\nLauncelot. I say you sooth, said the damsel, for ye were this day the\nbest knight of the world, but who should say so now should be a liar,\nfor there is now one better than ye. And well it is proved by the\nadventures of the sword whereto ye durst not set your hand, and that is\nthe change and leaving of your name; wherefore I make unto you a\nremembrance, that ye shall not ween from henceforth that ye be the best\nknight of the world. As touching unto that, said Launcelot, I know well\nI was never the best. Yes, said the damsel, that were ye, and are yet\nof any sinful man of the world. And sir king, Nacien the hermit sendeth\nthee word, that thee shall befall the greatest worship that ever befell\nking in Britain; and I say you wherefore, for this day the Sancgreal\nshall appear in thy house, and feed thee and all thy fellowship of the\nRound Table. So she departed and went that same way that she came.\n_How King Arthur had all the knights together, for to just in the\n meadow beside Camelot or they departed._\nNow, said the king, I am sure at this quest of the Sancgreal shall all\nye of the Table Round depart, and never shall I see you again whole\ntogether, therefore I will see you all whole together in the meadow of\nCamelot, to just and to tourney, that after your death men may speak of\nit, that such good knights were wholly together such a day. As unto\nthat counsel, and at the king\u2019s request, they accorded all, and took on\ntheir harness that longed unto justing. But all this moving of the king\nwas for this intent, for to see Galahad proved, for the king deemed he\nshould not lightly come again unto the court after his departing. So\nwere they assembled in the meadow, both more and less. Then Sir\nGalahad, by the prayer of the king and the queen, did upon him a noble\njesserance, and also he did on his helm, but shield would he take none\nfor no prayer of the king. And then Sir Gawaine and other knights\nprayed him to take a spear. Right so he did; and the queen was in a\ntower with all her ladies for to behold that tournament. Then Sir\nGalahad dressed him in the midst of the meadow, and began to break\nspears marvellously, that all men had wonder of him, for he there\nsurmounted all other knights, for within a while he had thrown down\nmany good knights of the Table Round save twain, that was Sir Launcelot\nand Sir Percivale.\n_How the queen desired to see Galahad, and how after all the knights\n were replenished with the holy Sangreal, and how they avowed the\n enquest of the same._\nThen the king, at the queen\u2019s request, made him to alight and to unlace\nhis helm, that the queen might see him in the visage. And when she\nbeheld him she said, Soothly, I dare well say that Sir Launcelot is his\nfather, for never two men resembled more in likeness, therefore it is\nno marvel though he be of great prowess. So a lady that stood by the\nqueen said, Madam, ought he of right to be so good a knight? Yea,\nforsooth, said the queen, for he is of all parties come of the best\nknights of the world, and of the highest lineage; for Sir Launcelot is\ncome but of the eighth degree from our Lord Jesu Christ, and Sir\nGalahad is of the ninth degree from our Lord Jesu Christ; therefore I\ndare say they be the greatest gentlemen of the world. And then the king\nand all estates went home unto Camelot, and so went to evensong to the\ngreat minster. And so after upon that to supper, and every knight sat\nin his own place as they were toforehand. Then anon they heard cracking\nand crying of thunder, that them thought the place should all to-drive.\nIn the midst of this blast entered a sun-beam more clearer by seven\ntimes than ever they saw day, and all they were alighted of the grace\nof the Holy Ghost. Then began every knight to behold other, and either\nsaw other by their seeming fairer than ever they saw afore. Not for\nthen there was no knight might speak one word a great while, and so\nthey looked every man on other, as they had been dumb. Then there\nentered into the hall the holy Graile covered with white samite, but\nthere was none might see it, nor who bare it. And there was all the\nhall full filled with good odours, and every knight had such meats and\ndrinks as he best loved in this world: and when the holy Graile had\nbeen borne through the hall, then the holy vessel departed suddenly,\nthat they wist not where it became. Then had they all breath to speak.\nAnd then the king yielded thankings unto God of his good grace that he\nhad sent them. Certes, said the king, we ought to thank our Lord Jesu\ngreatly, for that he hath shewed us this day at the reverence of this\nhigh feast of Pentecost. Now, said Sir Gawaine, we have been served\nthis day of what meats and drinks we thought on, but one thing beguiled\nus, we might not see the holy Graile, it was so preciously covered;\nwherefore I will make here avow, that to-morn, without longer abiding,\nI shall labour in the quest of the Sancgreal, that I shall hold me out\na twelvemonth and a day, or more if need be, and never shall I return\nagain unto the court till I have seen it more openly than it hath been\nseen here: and if I may not speed, I shall return again as he that may\nnot be against the will of our Lord Jesu Christ. When they of the Table\nRound heard Sir Gawaine say so, they arose up the most party, and made\nsuch avows as Sir Gawaine had made.\nAnon as king Arthur heard this he was greatly displeased, for he wist\nwell that they might not againsay their avows. Alas! said king Arthur\nunto Sir Gawaine, ye have nigh slain me with the avow and promise that\nye have made. For through you ye have bereft me of the fairest\nfellowship and the truest of knighthood that ever were seen together in\nany realm of the world. For when they depart from hence, I am sure they\nall shall never meet more in this world, for they shall die many in the\nquest. And so it forethinketh me a little, for I have loved them as\nwell as my life, wherefore it shall grieve me right sore the\ndepartition of this fellowship. For I have had an old custom to have\nthem in my fellowship.\n_How great sorrow was made of the king and the queen and ladies for the\n departing of the knights, and how they departed._\nAnd therewith the tears filled in his eyes. And then he said, Gawaine,\nGawaine, ye have set me in great sorrow. For I have great doubt that my\ntrue fellowship shall never meet here more again. Ah, said Sir\nLauncelot, comfort yourself, for it shall be unto us as a great honour,\nand much more than if we died in any other places, for of death we be\nsure. Ah Launcelot, said the king, the great love that I have had unto\nyou all the days of my life maketh me to say such doleful words; for\nnever christian king had never so many worthy men at this table as I\nhave had this day at the Round Table, and that is my great sorrow. When\nthe queen, ladies, and gentlewomen wist these tidings, they had such\nsorrow and heaviness that there might no tongue tell it, for those\nknights had holden them in honour and charity. But among all other\nqueen Guenever made great sorrow. I marvel, said she, my lord would\nsuffer them to depart from him. Thus was all the court troubled, for\nthe love of the departition of those knights. And many of those ladies\nthat loved knights would have gone with their lovers; and so had they\ndone, had not an old knight come among them in religious clothing, and\nthen he spake all on high and said, Fair lords which have sworn in the\nquest of the Sancgreal, thus sendeth you Nacien the hermit word, that\nnone in this quest lead lady nor gentlewoman with him, for it is not to\ndo in so high a service as they labour in, for I warn you plain, he\nthat is not clean of his sins he shall not see the mysteries of our\nLord Jesu Christ; and for this cause they left these ladies and\ngentlewomen. After this the queen came unto Galahad, and asked him of\nwhence he was, and of what country? He told her of whence he was. And\nson unto Sir Launcelot, she said he was: as to that he said neither yea\nnor nay. Truly, said the queen, of your father ye need not to shame\nyou, for he is the goodliest knight and of the best men of the world\ncome, and of the stock, of all parties, of kings. Wherefore ye ought of\nright to be of your deeds a passing good man, and certainly, she said,\nye resemble him much. Then Sir Galahad was a little ashamed, and said,\nMadam, sith ye know in certain, wherefore do ye ask it me? for he that\nis my father shall be known openly, and all betimes. And then they went\nto rest them. And in the honour of the highness of Galahad he was led\ninto king Arthur\u2019s chamber, and there rested in his own bed. And as\nsoon as it was day the king arose, for he had no rest of all that night\nfor sorrow. Then he went unto Gawaine and to Sir Launcelot, that were\narisen for to hear mass. And then the king again said, Ah Gawaine,\nGawaine, ye have betrayed me. For never shall my court be amended by\nyou, but ye will never be sorry for me, as I am for you. And therewith\nthe tears began to run down by his visage. And therewith the king said,\nAh knight, Sir Launcelot, I require thee thou counsel me, for I would\nthat this quest were undone, and it might be. Sir, said Sir Launcelot,\nye saw yesterday so many worthy knights that then were sworn, that they\nmay not leave it in no manner of wise. That wot I well, said the king,\nbut it shall so heavy me at their departing, that I wot well there\nshall no manner of joy remedy me. And then the king and the queen went\nunto the minster. So anon Launcelot and Gawaine commanded their men to\nbring their arms. And when they all were armed, save their shields and\ntheir helms, then they came to their fellowship, which all were ready\nin the same wise for to go to the minster to hear their service.\nThen after the service was done, the king would wit how many had taken\nthe quest of the holy Graile, and to account them he prayed them all.\nThen found they by tale an hundred and fifty, and all were knights of\nthe Round Table. And then they put on their helms, and departed, and\nrecommanded them all wholly unto the queen, and there was weeping and\ngreat sorrow. Then the queen departed into her chamber so that no man\nshould perceive her great sorrows. When Sir Launcelot missed the queen\nhe went into her chamber, and when she saw him she cried aloud, O, Sir\nLauncelot, ye have betrayed me and put me to death, for to leave thus\nmy lord. Ah, madam, said Sir Launcelot, I pray you be not displeased,\nfor I shall come again as soon as I may with my worship. Alas, said\nshe, that ever I saw you! but He that suffered death upon the cross for\nall mankind, be to your good conduct and safety, and all the whole\nfellowship. Right so departed Sir Launcelot, and found his fellowship\nthat abode his coming. And so they mounted upon their horses, and rode\nthrough the streets of Camelot, and there was weeping of the rich and\npoor, and the king turned away, and might not speak for weeping. So\nwithin a while they came to a city and a castle that hight Vagon: there\nthey entered into the castle, and the lord of that castle was an old\nman that hight Vagon, and he was a good man of his living, and set open\nthe gates, and made them all the good cheer that he might. And so on\nthe morrow they were all accorded that they should depart every each\nfrom other. And then they departed on the morrow with weeping and\nmourning cheer, and every knight took the way that him best liked.\n_How Galahad gat him a shield, and how they sped that presumed to take\n down the said shield._\nNow rideth Sir Galahad yet without shield, and so he rode four days\nwithout any adventure. And at the fourth day after even-song he came to\na white abbey, and there he was received with great reverence, and led\nto a chamber, and then he was unarmed, and then was he ware of two\nknights of the Round Table, one was king Bagdemagus, and that other was\nSir Uwaine. And when they saw him they went unto him and made of him\ngreat solace, and so they went to supper. Sirs, said Sir Galahad, what\nadventure brought you hither? Sir, said they, it is told us that within\nthis place is a shield that no man may bear about his neck but that if\nhe be mischieved or dead within three days, or else maimed for ever.\nAh, sir, said king Bagdemagus, I shall bear it to-morrow for to assay\nthis strange adventure. In the name of God, said Sir Galahad. Sir, said\nBagdemagus, and I may not achieve the adventure of this shield ye shall\ntake it upon you, for I am sure ye shall not fail. Sir, said Galahad, I\nagree right well thereto, for I have no shield. So on the morn they\narose and heard mass. Then king Bagdemagus asked where the adventurous\nshield was. Anon a monk led him behind an altar where the shield hung\nas white as any snow, but in the midst was a red cross. Sir, said the\nmonk, this shield ought not to be hanged about no knight\u2019s neck, but he\nbe the worthiest knight of the world, and therefore I counsel you\nknights to be well advised. Well, said king Bagdemagus, I wot well that\nI am not the best knight of the world, but yet shall I assay to bear\nit. And so he bare it out of the monastery; and then he said unto Sir\nGalahad, If it will please you, I pray you abide here still, till ye\nknow how I shall speed. I shall abide you here, said Galahad. Then king\nBagdemagus took with him a squire, the which should bring tidings unto\nSir Galahad how he sped. Then when they had ridden a two mile, and came\nin a fair valley afore an hermitage, then they saw a goodly knight come\nfrom that part in white armour, horse and all, and he came as fast as\nhis horse might run with his spear in the rest, and king Bagdemagus\ndressed his spear against him, and brake it upon the white knight; but\nthe other struck him so hard that he brake the mails, and thrust him\nthrough the right shoulder, for the shield covered him not as at that\ntime, and so he bare him from his horse, and therewith he alighted and\ntook the white shield from him, saying, Knight, thou hast done thyself\ngreat folly, for this shield ought not to be borne but by him that\nshall have no peer that liveth. And then he came to king Bagdemagus\u2019s\nsquire and said, Bear this shield unto the good knight Sir Galahad,\nthat thou left in the abbey, and greet him well from me. Sir, said the\nsquire, what is your name? Take thou no heed of my name, said the\nknight, for it is not for thee to know, nor for none earthly man. Now,\nfair sir, said the squire, at the reverence of Jesu Christ tell me for\nwhat cause this shield may not be borne, but if the bearer thereof be\nmischieved. Now, sith thou hast conjured me so, said the knight, this\nshield behoveth to no man but unto Galahad. And the squire went unto\nBagdemagus and asked him whether he were sore wounded or not? Yea\nforsooth, said he, I shall escape hard from the death. Then he fetched\nhis horse, and brought him with great pain unto an abbey. Then was he\ntaken down softly, and unarmed, and laid in a bed, and there was looked\nto his wounds. And, as the book telleth, he lay there long, and escaped\nhard with the life.\n_How Galahad departed with the shield. And how king Evelake had\n received the shield of Joseph of Aramathie._\nSir Galahad, said the squire, that knight that wounded Bagdemagus\nsendeth you greeting, and bad that ye should bear this shield, where\nthrough great adventures should befall. Now blessed be God and fortune,\nsaid Sir Galahad. And then he asked his arms, and mounted upon his\nhorse, and hung the white shield about his neck, and commended them\nunto God. And Sir Uwaine said he would bear him fellowship if it\npleased him. Sir, said Galahad, that may ye not, for I must go alone,\nsave this squire shall bear me fellowship: and so departed Uwaine. Then\nwithin a while came Galahad there as the white knight abode him by the\nhermitage, and every each saluted other courteously. Sir, said Galahad,\nby this shield been many marvels fallen. Sir, said the knight, it\nbefell after the passion of our Lord Jesu Christ thirty-two year, that\nJoseph of Armathie, the gentle knight the which took down our Lord off\nthe holy cross, at that time he departed from Jerusalem with a great\nparty of his kindred with him. And so he laboured till that they came\nto a city that hight Sarras. And at that same hour that Joseph came to\nSarras, there was a king that hight Evelake, that had great war against\nthe Saracens, and in especially against one Saracen, the which was the\nking Evelake\u2019s cousin, a rich king and a mighty, which marched nigh\nthis land, and his name was called Tolleme la Feintes. So on a day this\ntwo met to do battle. Then Joseph, the son of Joseph of Armathie, went\nto king Evelake, and told him he should be discomfit and slain, but if\nhe left his belief of the old law, and believed upon the new law. And\nthen there he shewed him the right belief of the Holy Trinity, to the\nwhich he agreed unto with all his heart, and there this shield was made\nfor king Evelake, in the name of Him that died upon the cross. And then\nthrough his good belief he had the better of king Tolleme. For when\nEvelake was in the battle, there was a cloth set afore the shield, and\nwhen he was in the greatest peril he let put away the cloth, and then\nhis enemies saw a figure of a man on the cross, where through they all\nwere discomfit. And so it befell that a man of king Evelake\u2019s was\nsmitten his hand off, and bare that hand in his other hand. And Joseph\ncalled that man unto him, and bad him, Go with good devotion, touch the\ncross. And as soon as that man had touched the cross with his hand, it\nwas as whole as ever it was tofore. Then soon after there fell a great\nmarvel, that the cross of the shield at one time vanished away, that no\nman wist where it became. And then king Evelake was baptised, and for\nthe most part all the people of that city. So soon after Joseph would\ndepart, and king Evelake would go with him, whether he would or nould.\nAnd so by fortune they came into this land, that at that time was\ncalled Great Britain. And there they found a great felon paynim, that\nput Joseph into prison. And so by fortune tidings came unto a worthy\nman that hight Mondrames, and he assembled all his people, for the\ngreat renown he had heard of Joseph, and so he came into the land of\nGreat Britain, and disherited this felon paynim and consumed him, and\ntherewith delivered Joseph out of prison. And after that all the people\nwere turned to the christian faith.\n_How Joseph made a cross on the white shield with his blood, and how\n Galahad was by a monk brought to a tomb._\nNot long after that Joseph was laid in his deadly bed. And when king\nEvelake saw that, he made much sorrow, and said, For thy love I have\nleft my country, and sith ye shall depart out of this world leave me\nsome token of yours, that I may think on you. Joseph said, that will I\ndo full gladly. Now bring me your shield that I took you when ye went\ninto battle against king Tolleme. Then Joseph bled sore at the nose\nthat he might not by no means be staunched. And there upon that shield\nhe made a cross of his own blood. Now may ye see a remembrance that I\nlove you, for ye shall never see this shield but ye shall think on me,\nand it shall be always as fresh as it is now; and never shall no man\nbear this shield about his neck but he shall repent it, unto the time\nthat Galahad the good knight bear it, and the last of my lineage shall\nhave it about his neck, that shall do many marvellous deeds. Now, said\nking Evelake, where shall I put this shield, that this worthy knight\nmay have it? Ye shall leave it there as Nacien the hermit shall be put\nafter his death. For thither shall that good knight come the fifteenth\nday after that he shall receive the order of knighthood. And so that\nday that they set is this time that ye have his shield. And in the same\nabbey lieth Nacien the hermit. And then the white knight vanished away.\nAnon, as the squire had heard these words, he alight off his hackney,\nand kneeled down at Galahad\u2019s feet, and prayed him that he might go\nwith him till he had made him knight.\u2014If I would not refuse you?\u2014Then\nwill ye make me a knight, said the squire, and that order, by the grace\nof God, shall be well set in me. So Sir Galahad granted him, and turned\nagain unto the abbey there they came from. And there men made great joy\nof Sir Galahad. And anon as he was alight, there was a monk brought him\nunto a tomb in a church-yard, where that was such a noise that who that\nheard it should verily nigh be mad or lose his strength. And, sir, they\nsaid, we deem it is a fiend.\n_Of the marvel that Sir Galahad saw and heard in the tomb, and how he\n made Melias knight._\nNow lead me thither, said Galahad. And so they did, all armed save his\nhelm. Now, said the good man, go to the tomb and lift it up. So he did,\nand heard a great noise, and piteously he said that all men might hear\nit. Sir Galahad, the servant of Jesu Christ, come thou not nigh me, for\nthou shalt make me go again there where I have been so long. But\nGalahad was nothing afraid, but lift up the stone, and there came out\nso foul a smoke, and after he saw the foulest figure leap thereout that\never he saw in the likeness of a man; and then he blessed him, and wist\nwell it was a fiend. Then heard he a voice say, Galahad, I see there\nenviron about thee so many angels that my power may not dare thee.\nRight so Sir Galahad saw a body all armed lie in that tomb, and beside\nhim a sword. Now, fair brother, said Galahad, let us remove this body,\nfor it is not worthy to lie in this church-yard, for he was a false\nChristian man. And therewith they all departed and went to the abbey.\nAnd anon as he was unarmed, a good man came and set him down by him,\nand said, Sir, I shall tell you what betokeneth all that ye saw in the\ntomb: For that covered body betokeneth the duresse of the world, and\nthe great sin that our Lord found in the world, for there was such\nwretchedness that the father loved not the son, nor the son loved not\nthe father, and that was one of the causes that our Lord took flesh and\nblood of a clean maiden; for our sins were so great at that time that\nwell nigh all was wickedness. Truly, said Galahad, I believe you right\nwell. So Sir Galahad rested him there that night. And upon the morn he\nmade the squire knight, and asked him his name, and of what kindred he\nwas come. Sir, said he, men call me Melias de Lile, and I am the son of\nthe king of Denmark. Now, fair sir, said Galahad, sith ye be come of\nkings and queens, now look that knighthood be well set in you, for ye\nought to be a mirror unto all chivalry. Sir, said Melias, ye say sooth.\nBut, sir, sithen ye have made me a knight, ye must of right grant me my\nfirst desire that is reasonable. Ye say sooth, said Galahad. Then\nMelias said, that ye will suffer me to ride with you in this quest of\nthe Sancgreal till that some adventure depart us.\u2014I grant you, sir.\nThen men brought Sir Melias his armour, and his spear, and his horse;\nand so Sir Galahad and he rode forth all that week ere they found any\nadventure. And then upon a Monday, in the morning, as they were\ndeparted from an abbey, they came to a cross which departed two ways;\nand in that cross were letters written, that said thus: Now ye knights\nerrant, the which goeth to seek knights adventurous, see here two ways;\nthat one way defendeth thee that thou ne go that way, for he shall not\ngo out of the way again, but if he be a good man and a worthy knight;\nand if thou go on the left hand, thou shalt not there lightly win\nprowess, for thou shalt in this way be soon assayed. Sir, said Melias\nto Galahad, if it like you to suffer me to take the way on the left\nhand, tell me, for there I shall well prove my strength. It were\nbetter, said Galahad, ye rode not that way, for I deem I should better\nescape in that way than ye.\u2014Nay, my lord, I pray you let me have that\nadventure.\u2014Take it, in God\u2019s name, said Galahad.\n_Of the adventure that Melias had, and how Galahad revenged him, and\n how Melias was carried into an abbey._\nAnd then rode Melias into an old forest, and therein he rode two days\nand more. And then he came into a fair meadow, and there was a fair\nlodge of boughs. And then he espied in that lodge a chair, wherein was\na crown of gold subtily wrought. Also there was clothes covered upon\nthe earth, and many delicious meats were set thereon. Sir Melias beheld\nthis adventure, and thought it marvellous, but he had no hunger, but of\nthe crown of gold he took much keep, and therewith he stooped down, and\ntook it up, and rode his way with it. And anon he saw a knight came\nriding after him that said, Knight, set down that crown which is not\nyours, and therefore defend you. Then Sir Melias blessed him, and said,\nFair Lord of heaven, help and save thy new-made knight. And then they\nlet their horses run as fast as they might, so that the other knight\nsmote Sir Melias through hauberk and through the left side, that he\nfell to the earth nigh dead. And then he took the crown and went his\nway, and Sir Melias lay still and had no power to stir. In the\nmeanwhile by fortune there came Sir Galahad and found him there in\nperil of death. And then he said, Ah, Melias, who hath wounded you?\ntherefore it had been better to have ridden that other way. And when\nSir Melias heard him speak, Sir, he said, for God\u2019s love let me not die\nin this forest, but bear me unto the abbey here beside, that I may be\nconfessed and have my rites. It shall be done, said Galahad, but where\nis he that hath wounded you? With that Sir Galahad heard in the leaves\ncry on high, Knight, keep thee from me! Ah sir, said Melias, beware,\nfor that is he that hath slain me. Sir Galahad answered, Sir knight,\ncome on your peril. Then either dressed to other, and came together as\nfast as their horses might run; and Galahad smote him so that his spear\nwent through his shoulder, and smote him down off his horse, and in the\nfalling Galahad\u2019s spear brake. With that came out another knight out of\nthe leaves and brake a spear upon Galahad, or ever he might turn him.\nThen Galahad drew out his sword and smote off the left arm of him, so\nthat it fell to the earth. And then he fled, and Sir Galahad sued fast\nafter him. And then he turned again unto Sir Melias, and there he\nalight and dressed him softly on his horse tofore him, for the\ntruncheon of his spear was in his body, and Sir Galahad start up behind\nhim, and held him in his arms, and so brought him to the abbey, and\nthere unarmed him and brought him to his chamber. And then he asked his\nSaviour. And when he had received Him he said unto Sir Galahad, Sir,\nlet death come when it pleaseth him. And therewith he drew out the\ntruncheon of the spear out of his body: and then he swooned. Then came\nthere an old monk, which sometime had been a knight, and beheld Sir\nMelias. And anon he ransacked him, and then he said unto Sir Galahad, I\nshall heal him of this wound, by the grace of God, within the term of\nseven weeks. Then was Sir Galahad glad, and unarmed him, and said he\nwould abide there three days. And then he asked Sir Melias how it stood\nwith him. Then he said, he was turned unto helping, God be thanked.\n_How Sir Galahad departed, and how he was commanded to go to the castle\n of maidens to destroy the wicked custom._\nNow will I depart, said Galahad, for I have much on hand, for many good\nknights be full busy about it, and this knight and I were in the same\nquest of the Sancgreal. Sir, said a good man, for his sin he was thus\nwounded: and I marvel, said the good man, how ye durst take upon you so\nrich a thing as the high order of knighthood without clean confession,\nand that was the cause ye were bitterly wounded. For the way on the\nright hand betokeneth the high way of our Lord Jesu Christ, and the way\nof a true good liver. And the other way betokeneth the way of sinners\nand of misbelievers. And when the devil saw your pride and presumption\nfor to take you in the quest of the holy Sancgreal, that made you to be\noverthrown, for it may not be achieved but by virtuous living. Also,\nthe writing on the cross was a signification of heavenly deeds, and of\nknightly deeds in God\u2019s works, and no knightly deeds in worldly works;\nand pride is head of all deadly sins, that caused this knight to depart\nfrom Sir Galahad: and where thou tookest the crown of gold thou\nsinnedst in covetise and in theft. All this were no knightly deeds. And\nthis Galahad the holy knight, the which fought with the two knights,\nthe two knights signify the two deadly sins which were wholly in this\nknight Sir Melias, and they might not withstand you, for ye are without\ndeadly sin. Now departed Galahad from thence, and betaught them all\nunto God. Sir Melias said, My lord Galahad, as soon as I may ride I\nshall seek you. God send you health, said Galahad; and so took his\nhorse and departed and rode many journeys forward and backward, as\nadventure would lead him. And at the last it happened him to depart\nfrom a place or a castle, the which was named Abblasoure, and he had\nheard no mass, the which he was wont ever to hear or that he departed\nout of any castle or place, and kept that for a custom. Then Sir\nGalahad came unto a mountain, where he found an old chapel, and found\nthere nobody, for all all was desolate, and there he kneeled tofore the\naltar, and besought God of wholesome counsel. So, as he prayed, he\nheard a voice that said, Go thou now, thou adventurous knight, to the\nCastle of Maidens, and there do thou away the wicked customs.\n_How Sir Galahad fought with the knights of the castle, and destroyed\n the wicked custom._\nWhen Sir Galahad heard this he thanked God, and took his horse, and he\nhad not ridden but half a mile, he saw in a valley afore him a strong\ncastle with deep ditches, and there ran beside it a fair river, that\nhight Severn, and there he met with a man of great age, and either\nsaluted other, and Galahad asked him the castle\u2019s name? Fair sir, said\nhe, it is the Castle of Maidens. That is a cursed castle, said Galahad,\nand all they that be conversant therein; for all pity is out thereof,\nand all hardiness and mischief is therein.\u2014Therefore I counsel you,\nsir knight, to turn again. Sir, said Galahad, wit you well I shall not\nturn again. Then looked Sir Galahad on his arms that nothing failed\nhim, and then he put his shield afore him, and anon there met him seven\nfair maidens, the which said unto him, Sir knight, ye ride here in a\ngreat folly, for ye have the water to pass over. Why should I not pass\nthe water? said Galahad. So rode he away from them, and met with a\nsquire that said, Knight, those knights in the castle defy you, and\nforbid you, ye go no further till that they wit what ye would. Fair\nsir, said Galahad, I come for to destroy the wicked custom of this\ncastle.\u2014Sir, and ye will abide by that, ye shall have enough to\ndo.\u2014Go you now, said Galahad, and haste my needs. Then the squire\nentered into the castle. And anon after there came out of the castle\nseven knights, and all were brethren. And when they saw Galahad, they\ncried, Knight, keep thee, for we assure thee nothing but death. Why,\nsaid Galahad, will ye all have ado with me at once? Yea, said they,\nthereto mayest thou trust. Then Galahad put forth his spear, and smote\nthe foremost to the earth, that near he brake his neck. And therewith\nall the other smote him on his shield great strokes, so that their\nspears brake. Then Sir Galahad drew out his sword, and set upon them so\nhard that it was marvel to see it, and so, through great force, he made\nthem to forsake the field; and Galahad chased them till they entered\ninto the castle, and so passed through the castle at another gate. And\nthere met Sir Galahad an old man, clothed in religious clothing, and\nsaid, Sir, have here the keys of this castle. Then Sir Galahad opened\nthe gates, and saw so much people in the streets that he might not\nnumber them, and all said, Sir, ye be welcome, for long have we abiden\nhere our deliverance. Then came to him a gentlewoman, and said, These\nknights be fled, but they will come again this night, and here to begin\nagain their evil custom. What will ye that I shall do? said Galahad.\nSir, said the gentlewoman, that ye send after all the knights hither\nthat hold their lands of this castle, and make them to swear for to use\nthe customs that were used heretofore of old time. I will well, said\nGalahad. And there she brought him an horn of ivory, bounden with gold\nrichly, and said, Sir, blow this horn, which will be heard two mile\nabout this castle. When Sir Galahad had blown the horn he set him down\nupon a bed. Then came a priest unto Galahad, and said, Sir, it is past\na seven year agone that these seven brethren came into this castle, and\nharboured with the lord of this castle, that hight the duke Lianour,\nand he was lord of all this country. And when they espied the duke\u2019s\ndaughter that was a full fair woman, then by their false covin they\nmade debate betwixt themselves, and the duke of his goodness would have\ndeparted them; and there they slew him and his eldest son. And then\nthey took the maiden, and the treasure of the castle. And then by great\nforce they held all the knights of this castle against their will under\ntheir obeisance, and in great servage and truage, robbing and pilling\nthe poor common people of all that they had. So it happened on a day\nthe duke\u2019s daughter said, Ye have done unto me great wrong to slay mine\nown father and my brother, and thus to hold our lands: not for then,\nshe said, ye shall not hold this castle for many years, for by one\nknight ye shall be overcome. Thus she prophesied seven years agone.\nWell, said the seven knights, sithen ye say so, there shall never lady\nnor knight pass this castle, but they shall abide maugre their heads,\nor die therefore, till that knight be come by whom we shall lose this\ncastle. And therefore it is called the Maidens\u2019 Castle, for they have\ndevoured many maidens. Now, said Sir Galahad, is she here for whom this\ncastle was lost? Nay, said the priest, she was dead within these three\nnights after that she was thus enforced; and sithen have they kept her\nyounger sister, which endureth great pains with many other ladies. By\nthis were the knights of the country come. And then he made them do\nhomage and fealty to the duke\u2019s daughter, and set them in great ease of\nheart. And in the morn there came one to Galahad, and told him how that\nGawaine, Gareth, and Uwaine had slain the seven brethren. I suppose\nwell, said Sir Galahad: and took his armour and his horse and commended\nthem unto God.\n_How Sir Gawaine came to the Abbey for to follow Galahad, and how he\n was shriven to a Hermit._\nNow, saith the tale, after Sir Gawaine departed, he rode many journeys\nboth toward and froward. And at the last he came to the abbey where Sir\nGalahad had the white shield. And there Sir Gawaine learned the way to\nsue after Sir Galahad, and so he rode to the abbey where Melias lay\nsick, and there Sir Melias told Sir Gawaine of the marvellous adventure\nthat Sir Galahad did. Certes, said Sir Gawaine, I am not happy that I\ntook not the way that he went; for, and I may meet with him, I will not\ndepart from him lightly, for all marvellous adventures Sir Galahad\nachieveth. Sir, said one of the monks, he will not of your fellowship.\nWhy? said Sir Gawaine. Sir, said he, for ye be wicked and sinful, and\nhe is full blessed.\nRight as they thus stood talking together, there came in riding Sir\nGareth. And then they made joy either of other. And on the morn they\nheard mass, and so departed. And by the way they met with Sir Uwaine\nles Avoutres. And there Sir Uwaine told Sir Gawaine how he had met with\nnone adventure sith he departed from the court. Nor we, said Sir\nGawaine. And either promised other of those three knights not to depart\nwhile that they were in that quest, but if fortune caused it. So they\ndeparted and rode by fortune till that they came by the Castle of\nMaidens. And there the seven brethren espied the three knights, and\nsaid, Sithen we be banished by one knight from this castle, we shall\ndestroy all the knights of king Arthur\u2019s that we may overcome, for the\nlove of Sir Galahad. And therewith the seven knights set upon the three\nknights: and by fortune Sir Gawaine slew one of the brethren, and each\none of his fellows slew another, and so slew the remnant. And then they\ntook the way under the castle; and there they lost the way that Sir\nGalahad rode, and there every each of them departed from other, and Sir\nGawaine rode till he came to an hermitage, and there he found the good\nman saying his evensong of Our Lady. And there Sir Gawaine asked\nharbour for charity, and the good man granted it him gladly. Then the\ngood man asked him what he was? Sir, he said, I am a knight of king\nArthur\u2019s, that am in the quest of the Sancgreal, and my name is Sir\nGawaine. Sir, said the good man, I would wit how it standeth betwixt\nGod and you? Sir, said Sir Gawaine, I will with a good will shew you my\nlife, if it please you. And there he told the hermit how a monk of an\nabbey called me wicked knight. He might well say it, said the hermit,\nfor when ye were first made knight, ye should have taken you to\nknightly deeds and virtuous living, and ye have done the contrary, for\nye have lived mischievously many winters, and Sir Galahad is a maid,\nand sinned never, and that is the cause he shall achieve where he goeth\nthat ye nor none such shall not attain, nor none in your fellowship;\nfor ye have used the most untruest life that ever I heard knight live.\nFor, certes, had ye not been so wicked as ye are, never had the seven\nbrethren been slain by you and your two fellows. For Sir Galahad,\nhimself alone, beat them all seven the day before, but his living is\nsuch he shall slay no man lightly. Also I may say you, the Castle of\nMaidens betokeneth the good souls that were in prison afore the\nIncarnation of Jesu Christ. And the seven knights betoken the seven\ndeadly sins that reigned that time in the world. And I may liken the\ngood Galahad unto the Son of the High Father, that light within a maid,\nand bought all the souls out of thrall: so did Sir Galahad deliver all\nthe maidens out of the woful castle. Now, Sir Gawaine, said the good\nman, thou must do penance for thy sin.\u2014Sir, what penance shall I\ndo?\u2014Such as I will give, said the good man. Nay, said Sir Gawaine, I\nmay do no penance; for we knights adventurous often suffer great woe\nand pain. Well, said the good man, and then he held his peace. And on\nthe morn Sir Gawaine departed from the hermit, and betaught him unto\nGod. And by adventure he met with Sir Aglovale and Sir Griflet, two\nknights of the Table Round. And they two rode four days without finding\nof any adventure, and at the fifth day they departed. And every each\nheld as fell them by adventure.\nHere leaveth the tale of Sir Gawaine and his fellows, and speak we of\nSir Galahad.\n_How Sir Galahad met with Sir Launcelot and with Sir Percivale, and\n smote them down, and departed from them._\nSo when Sir Galahad was departed from the Castle of Maidens, he rode\ntill he came to a waste forest, and there he met with Sir Launcelot and\nSir Percivale, but they knew him not, for he was new disguised. Right\nso, Sir Launcelot his father dressed his spear, and brake it upon Sir\nGalahad, and Sir Galahad smote him so again, that he smote down horse\nand man. And then he drew his sword, and dressed him unto Sir\nPercivale, and smote him so on the helm that it rove to the coif of\nsteel, and had not the sword swerved Sir Percivale had been slain, and\nwith the stroke he fell out of his saddle. This justs was done tofore\nthe hermitage where a recluse dwelled. And when she saw Sir Galahad\nride, she said, God be with thee, best knight of the world. Ah certes,\nsaid she all aloud, that Launcelot and Percivale might hear it, and\nyonder two knights had known thee as well as I do, they would not have\nencountered with thee. When Sir Galahad heard her say so he was sore\nadread to be known: therewith he smote his horse with his spurs, and\nrode a great pace froward them. Then perceived they both that he was\nGalahad, and up they gat on their horses, and rode fast after him, but\nin a while he was out of their sight. And then they turned again with\nheavy cheer. Let us spere some tidings, said Percivale, at yonder\nrecluse. Do as ye list, said Sir Launcelot. When Sir Percivale came to\nthe recluse, she knew him well enough, and Sir Launcelot both. But Sir\nLauncelot rode overthwart and endlong in a wild forest, and held no\npath, but as wild adventure led him. And at the last he came to a stony\ncross, which departed two ways in waste land, and by the cross was a\nstone that was of marble, but it was so dark that Sir Launcelot might\nnot wit what it was. Then Sir Launcelot looked by him, and saw an old\nchapel, and there he wend to have found people. And Sir Launcelot tied\nhis horse till a tree, and there he did off his shield, and hung it\nupon a tree. And then he went to the chapel door, and found it waste\nand broken. And within he found a fair altar full richly arrayed with\ncloth of clean silk, and there stood a fair clean candlestick which\nbare six great candles, and the candlestick was of silver. And when Sir\nLauncelot saw this light, he had great will for to enter into the\nchapel, but he could find no place where he might enter: then was he\npassing heavy and dismayed. Then he returned and came to his horse, and\ndid off his saddle and bridle, and let him pasture; and unlaced his\nhelm, and ungirded his sword, and laid him down to sleep upon his\nshield tofore the cross.\n_How Sir Launcelot, half sleeping and half waking, saw a sick man borne\n in a litter, and how he was healed with the Sangreal._\nAnd so he fell on sleep, and half waking and half sleeping he saw come\nby him two palfreys all fair and white, the which bare a litter,\ntherein lying a sick knight. And when he was nigh the cross, he there\nabode still. All this Sir Launcelot saw and beheld, for he slept not\nverily; and he heard him say, Oh, sweet Lord, when shall this sorrow\nleave me? and when shall the holy vessel come by me where through I\nshall be blessed? For I have endured thus long for little trespass. A\nfull great while complained the knight thus, and always Sir Launcelot\nheard it. With that Sir Launcelot saw the candlestick with the six\ntapers come before the cross, and he saw nobody that brought it. Also\nthere came a table of silver, and the holy vessel of the Sancgreal,\nwhich Sir Launcelot had seen aforetime in king Peschour\u2019s house. And\ntherewith the sick knight set him up, and held up both his hands, and\nsaid, Fair sweet Lord, which is here within this holy vessel, take heed\nunto me, that I may be whole of this malady. And therewith on his hands\nand on his knees he went so nigh that he touched the holy vessel, and\nkissed it, and anon he was whole, and then he said, Lord God I thank\nthee, for I am healed of this sickness. So when the holy vessel had\nbeen there a great while it went unto the chapel, with the chandelier\nand the light, so that Launcelot wist not where it was become, for he\nwas overtaken with sin that he had no power to arise against the holy\nvessel; wherefore after that many men said of him shame, but he took\nrepentance after that. Then the sick knight dressed him up, and kissed\nthe cross. Anon his squire brought him his arms, and asked his lord how\nhe did? Certes, said he, I thank God right well, through the holy\nvessel I am healed. But I have great marvel of this sleeping knight,\nthat had no power to awake when this holy vessel was brought hither. I\ndare right well say, said the squire, that he dwelleth in some deadly\nsin, whereof he was never confessed. By my faith, said the knight,\nwhatsoever he be he is unhappy, for as I deem he is of the fellowship\nof the Round Table, the which is entered into the quest of the\nSancgreal. Sir, said the squire, here I have brought you all your arms,\nsave your helm and your sword, and therefore by my assent now may ye\ntake this knight\u2019s helm and his sword. And so he did. And when he was\nclean armed he took Sir Launcelot\u2019s horse, for he was better than his\nown: and so departed they from the cross.\n_How a voice spake to Sir Launcelot, and how he found his horse and his\n helm borne away, and after went afoot._\nThen anon Sir Launcelot waked, and set him up, and bethought him what\nhe had seen there, and whether it were dreams or not. Right so heard he\na voice that said, Sir Launcelot, more harder than is the stone, and\nmore bitter than is the wood, and more naked and barer than is the leaf\nof the fig-tree, therefore go thou from hence and withdraw thee from\nthis holy place. And when Sir Launcelot heard this he was passing\nheavy, and wist not what to do, and so departed, sore weeping, and\ncursed the time that he was born. For then he deemed never to have had\nworship more. For those words went to his heart, till that he knew\nwherefore he was called so. Then Sir Launcelot went to the cross, and\nfound his helm, his sword, and his horse, taken away. And then he\ncalled himself a very wretch, and most unhappy of all knights: and\nthere he said, My sin and my wickedness have brought me unto great\ndishonour. For when I sought worldly adventures for worldly desires I\never achieved them, and had the better in every place, and never was I\ndiscomfit in no quarrel, were it right or wrong. And now I take upon me\nthe adventures of holy things, and now I see and understand that mine\nold sin hindereth me, and shameth me, so that I had no power to stir\nnor to speak when the holy blood appeared afore me. So thus he sorrowed\ntill it was day, and heard the fowls sing: then somewhat he was\ncomforted. But when Sir Launcelot missed his horse and his harness,\nthen he wist well God was displeased with him. Then he departed from\nthe cross on foot into a forest. And so by prime he came to an high\nhill, and found an hermitage, and an hermit therein, which was going\nunto mass. And then Launcelot kneeled down and cried on our Lord mercy\nfor his wicked works. So when mass was done, Launcelot called him, and\nprayed him for charity for to hear his life. With a good will, said the\ngood man. Sir, said he, be ye of king Arthur\u2019s court, and of the\nfellowship of the Round Table? Yea forsooth, and my name is Sir\nLauncelot du Lake, that hath been right well said of, and now my good\nfortune is changed, for I am the most wretch of the world. The hermit\nbeheld him, and had marvel how he was so abashed. Sir, said the hermit,\nye ought to thank God more than any knight living; for He hath caused\nyou to have more worldly worship than any knight that now liveth. And\nfor your presumption to take upon you in deadly sin for to be in His\npresence, where His flesh and His blood was, that caused you ye might\nnot see it with worldly eyes, for He will not appear where such sinners\nbe, but if it be unto their great hurt, and unto their great shame. And\nthere is no knight living now that ought to give God so great thanks as\nye; for He hath given you beauty, seemliness, and great strength, above\nall other knights, and therefore ye are the more beholding unto God\nthan any other man to love Him and dread Him; for your strength and\nmanhood will little avail you and God be against you.\n_How Sir Launcelot was shriven, and what sorrow he made; and of the\n good ensamples which were shewed him._\nThen Sir Launcelot wept with heavy cheer, and said, Now I know well ye\nsay me sooth. Sir, said the good man, hide none old sin from me. Truly,\nsaid Sir Launcelot, that were me full loth to discover. For this\nfourteen years I never discovered one thing that I have used, and that\nmay I now blame my shame and my misadventure. And then he told there\nthat good man all his life, and how he had loved a queen unmeasurably,\nand out of measure long;\u2014and all my great deeds of arms that I have\ndone, I did the most part for the queen\u2019s sake, and for her sake would\nI do battle were it right or wrong, and never did I battle all only for\nGod\u2019s sake, but for to win worship, and to cause me to be the better\nbeloved, and little or nought I thanked God of it. Then Sir Launcelot\nsaid, I pray you counsel me. I will counsel you, said the hermit, if ye\nwill ensure me that ye will never come in that queen\u2019s fellowship, as\nmuch as ye may forbear. And then Sir Launcelot promised him he would\nnot, by the faith of his body. Look that your heart and your mouth\naccord, said the good man, and I shall ensure you ye shall have more\nworship than ever ye had. Holy father, said Sir Launcelot, I marvel of\nthe voice that said to me marvellous words, as ye have heard\ntoforehand. Have ye no marvel, said the good man, thereof; for it\nseemeth well God loveth you; for men may understand a stone is hard of\nkind, and namely one more than another, and that is to understand by\nthee Sir Launcelot, for thou wilt not leave thy sin for no goodness\nthat God hath sent thee, therefore thou art more than any stone, and\nnever wouldest thou be made soft nor by water nor by fire, and that is,\nthe heat of the Holy Ghost may not enter in thee. Now take heed; in all\nthe world men shall not find one knight to whom our Lord hath given so\nmuch of grace as He hath given you: for He hath given you fairness with\nseemliness: He hath given thee wit, discretion to know good from evil:\nHe hath given thee prowess and hardiness; and given thee to work so\nlargely that thou hast had at all days the better wheresoever thou\ncamest. And now our Lord will suffer thee no longer, but that thou\nshalt know Him, whether thou wilt or nilt. And why the voice called\nthee bitterer than wood, for where overmuch sin dwelleth, there may be\nbut little sweetness, wherefore thou art likened to an old rotten tree.\nNow have I shewed thee why thou art harder than the stone, and bitterer\nthan the tree. Now shall I shew thee why thou art more naked and barer\nthan the fig-tree. It befell that our Lord on Palm-Sunday preached in\nJerusalem, and there He found in the people that all hardness was\nharboured in them, and there He found in all the town not one that\nwould harbour Him. And then He went without the town, and found in the\nmidst of the way a fig-tree, the which was right fair and well\ngarnished of leaves, but fruit had it none. Then our Lord cursed the\ntree that bare no fruit; that betokeneth the fig-tree unto Jerusalem,\nthat had leaves and no fruit. So thou, Sir Launcelot, when the holy\nGraile was brought afore thee, He found in thee no fruit, nor good\nthought nor good will, and defouled with lechery. Certes, said Sir\nLauncelot, all that ye have said is true, and from henceforward I cast\nme by the grace of God never to be so wicked as I have been, but as to\nfollow knighthood, and to do feats of arms. Then the good man enjoined\nSir Launcelot such penance as he might do, and to sue knighthood, and\nso he assoiled him and prayed Sir Launcelot to abide with him all that\nday. I will well, said Sir Launcelot, for I have neither helm, nor\nhorse, nor sword. As for that, said the good man, I shall help you or\nto-morn at even of an horse, and all that longeth unto you. And then\nSir Launcelot repented him greatly.\n Here leueth of the history of syr launcelot. And here foloweth of syr\n Percyuale de galys which is the xiiii. book.\n_How Sir Percivale came to a recluse, and asked counsel; and how she\n told him that she was his aunt._\nNow saith the tale, that when Sir Launcelot was ridden after Sir\nGalahad, the which had all these adventures above said, Sir Percivale\nturned again unto the recluse, where he deemed to have tidings of that\nknight that Launcelot followed. And so he kneeled at her window, and\nthe recluse opened it, and asked Sir Percivale what he would? Madam, he\nsaid, I am a knight of king Arthur\u2019s court, and my name is Sir\nPercivale de Galis. When the recluse heard his name, she had great joy\nof him, for mickle she had loved him tofore any other knight, for she\nought to do so, for she was his aunt. And then she commanded the gates\nto be opened, and there he had all the cheer that she might make him,\nand all that was in her power was at his commandment. So, on the morn,\nSir Percivale went to the recluse, and asked her if she knew that\nknight with the white shield? Sir, said she, why would ye wit? Truly,\nmadam, said Sir Percivale, I shall never be well at ease till that I\nknow of that knight\u2019s fellowship, and that I may fight with him, for I\nmay not leave him so lightly, for I have the shame yet. Ah, Percivale,\nsaid she, would ye fight with him? I see well ye have great will to be\nslain as your father was, through outrageousness. Madam, said Sir\nPercivale, it seemeth by your words that ye know me? Yea, said she, I\nwell ought to know you, for I am your aunt, although I be in a priory\nplace. For some called me sometime the queen of the Waste Lands, and I\nwas called the queen of most riches in the world; and it pleased me\nnever my riches so much as doth my poverty. Then Sir Percivale wept for\nvery pity, when he knew it was his aunt. Ah, fair nephew, said she,\nwhen heard ye tidings of your mother? Truly, said he, I heard none of\nher, but I dream of her much in my sleep, and therefore I wot not\nwhether she be dead or on live. Certes, fair nephew, said she, your\nmother is dead; for after your departing from her, she took such a\nsorrow that anon after she was confessed she died. Now God have mercy\non her soul, said Sir Percivale, it sore forethinketh me; but all we\nmust change the life. Now fair aunt, tell me what is the knight? I deem\nit be he that bare the red arms on Whitsunday. Wit you well, said she,\nthat this is he, for otherwise ought he not to do, but to go in red\narms, and that same knight hath no peer, for he worketh all by miracle,\nand he shall never be overcome of no earthly man\u2019s hand.\n_How Merlin likened the Round Table to the world, and how the knights\n that should achieve the Sangreal should be known._\nAlso Merlin made the Round Table in tokening of the roundness of the\nworld, for by the Round Table is the world signified by right. For all\nthe world, Christian and heathen, repair unto the Round Table, and when\nthey are chosen to be of the fellowship of the Round Table, they think\nthem more blessed, and more in worship, than if they had gotten half\nthe world; and ye have seen that they have lost their fathers and their\nmothers, and all their kin, and their wives and their children, for to\nbe of your fellowship. It is well seen by you; for since ye departed\nfrom your mother ye would never see her, ye found such a fellowship at\nthe Round Table. When Merlin had ordained the Round Table, he said, by\nthem which should be fellows of the Round Table the truth of the\nSancgreal should be well known. And men asked him how men might know\nthem that should best do, and to achieve the Sancgreal? then he said\nthere should be three white bulls that should achieve it, and the two\nshould be maidens, and the third should be chaste. And that one of the\nthree should pass his father as much as the lion passeth the libard,\nboth of strength and hardiness. They that heard Merlin say so, said\nthus unto Merlin: Sithen there shall be such a knight, thou shouldst\nordain by thy crafts a siege that no man should sit in it but he all\nonly that shall pass all other knights. Then Merlin answered that he\nwould do so. And then he made the siege perilous, in the which Galahad\nsat in at his meat on Whitsunday last past. Now madam, said Sir\nPercivale, so much have I heard of you, that by my good will I will\nnever have ado with Sir Galahad, but by way of kindness. And for God\u2019s\nlove, fair aunt, can ye teach me some way where I may find him, for\nmuch would I love the fellowship of him? Fair nephew, said she, ye must\nride unto a castle the which is called Goothe, where he hath a cousin\ngerman, and there may ye be lodged this night. And as he teacheth you,\nsue after as fast as ye can, and if he can tell you no tidings of him,\nride straight unto the castle of Carbonek, where the maimed king is\nthere lying, for there shall ye hear true tidings of him.\n_How Sir Percivale came into a monastery, where he found king Evelake,\n which was an old man._\nThen departed Sir Percivale from his aunt, either making great sorrow.\nAnd so he rode till evensong time. And then he heard a clock smite. And\nthen he was ware of a house closed well with walls and deep ditches,\nand there he knocked at the gate, and was let in, and he alight, and\nwas led unto a chamber, and soon he was unarmed. And there he had right\ngood cheer all that night, and on the morn he heard his mass, and in\nthe monastery he found a priest ready at the altar. And on the right\nside he saw a pew closed with iron, and behind the altar he saw a rich\nbed and a fair, as of cloth of silk and gold. Then Sir Percivale espied\nthat therein was a man or a woman, for the visage was covered. Then he\nleft off his looking, and heard his service. And when it came to the\nsacring, he that lay within that perclose dressed him up, and uncovered\nhis head, and then him beseemed a passing old man, and he had a crown\nof gold upon his head, and his shoulders were naked and uncovered unto\nhis middle. And then Sir Percivale espied his body was full of great\nwounds, both on the shoulders, arms, and visage. And ever he held up\nhis hands unto our Lord\u2019s body, and cried, Fair sweet Father Jesu\nChrist, forget not me, and so he lay down, but always he was in his\nprayers and orisons: and him seemed to be of the age of three hundred\nwinter. And when the mass was done, the priest took our Lord\u2019s body and\nbare it to the sick king. And when he had used it, he did off his\ncrown, and commanded the crown to be set on the altar. Then Sir\nPercivale asked one of the brethren what he was. Sir, said the good\nman, ye have heard much of Joseph of Armathie, how he was sent by Jesu\nChrist into this land, for to teach and preach the holy christian\nfaith, and therefore he suffered many persecutions, the which the\nenemies of Christ did unto him. And in the city of Sarras he converted\na king whose name was Evelake. And so this king came with Joseph into\nthis land: and always he was busy to be there as the Sancgreal was, and\non a time he nighed it so nigh that our Lord was displeased with him,\nbut ever he followed it more and more, till God struck him almost\nblind. Then this king cried mercy, and said, Fair Lord, let me never\ndie till the good knight of my blood of the ninth degree be come, that\nI may see him openly that he shall achieve the Sancgreal, that I may\nkiss him.\n_How Sir Percivale saw many men of arms, bearing a dead knight, and how\n he fought against them._\nWhen the king thus had made his prayers, he heard a voice that said,\nHeard be thy prayers, for thou shalt not die till he have kissed thee:\nand when that knight shall come, the clearness of your eyes shall come\nagain, and thou shalt see openly, and thy wounds shall be healed, and\nerst shall they never close. And this befell of king Evelake: and this\nsame king hath lived this three hundred winters this holy life. And men\nsay the knight is in the court that shall heal him. Sir, said the good\nman, I pray you tell me what knight that ye be, and if ye be of king\nArthur\u2019s court and of the Table Round? Yea, forsooth, said he, and my\nname is Sir Percivale de Galis. And when the good man understood his\nname, he made great joy of him. And then Sir Percivale departed, and\nrode till the hour of noon. And he met in a valley about twenty men of\narms, which bear in a bier a knight deadly slain. And when they saw Sir\nPercivale, they asked him of whence he was? and he answered, Of the\ncourt of king Arthur. Then they cried all at once, Slay him. Then Sir\nPercivale smote the first to the earth, and his horse upon him. And\nthen seven of the knights smote upon his shield all at once, and the\nremnant slew his horse, so that he fell to the earth. So had they slain\nhim or taken him, had not the good knight Sir Galahad, with the red\narms, come there by adventure into those parts. And when he saw all\nthose knights upon one knight, he cried, Save me that knight\u2019s life.\nAnd then he dressed him toward the twenty men of arms as fast as his\nhorse might drive, with his spear in the rest, and smote the foremost\nhorse and man to the earth. And when his spear was broken he set his\nhand to his sword, and smote on the right hand and on the left hand,\nthat it was marvel to see. And at every stroke he smote one down, or\nput him to a rebuke, so that they would fight no more, but fled to a\nthick forest, and Sir Galahad followed them. And when Sir Percivale saw\nhim chase them so, he made great sorrow that his horse was away. And\nthen he wist well it was Sir Galahad. And then he cried aloud, Ah fair\nknight, abide and suffer me to do thankings unto thee, for much have ye\ndone for me! But ever Sir Galahad rode so fast, that at the last he\npassed out of his sight. And as fast as Sir Percivale might he went\nafter him on foot, crying. And then he met with a yeoman riding upon an\nhackney, the which led in his hand a great black steed, blacker than\nany bear. Ah fair friend, said Sir Percivale, as ever I may do for you,\nand to be your true knight in the first place ye will require me, that\nye will lend me that black steed, that I might overtake a knight, the\nwhich rideth afore me. Sir knight, said the yeoman, I pray you hold me\nexcused of that, for that I may not do. For wit ye well, the horse is\nsuch a man\u2019s horse, that, and I lent it you or any other man, that he\nwould slay me. Alas, said Sir Percivale, I had never so great sorrow as\nI have had for losing of yonder knight. Sir, said the yeoman, I am\nright heavy for you, for a good horse would beseem you well, but I dare\nnot deliver you this horse, but if ye would take him from me. That will\nI not do, said Sir Percivale. And so they departed, and Sir Percivale\nsat him down under a tree, and made sorrow out of measure. And as he\nwas there, there came a knight riding on the horse that the yeoman led,\nand he was clean armed.\n_How a yeoman desired him to get again an horse, and how Sir\n Percivale\u2019s hackney was slain, and how he gat an horse._\nAnd anon the yeoman came pricking after as fast as ever he might, and\nasked Sir Percivale if he saw any knight riding on his black steed? Yea\nsir, forsooth, said he, why ask ye me that? Ah, sir, that steed he hath\ntaken from me with strength, wherefore my lord will slay me in what\nplace he findeth me. Well, said Sir Percivale, what wouldest thou that\nI did? thou seest well that I am on foot, but and I had a good horse I\nshould bring him soon again. Sir, said the yeoman, take mine hackney\nand do the best ye can, and I shall follow you on foot, to wit how that\nye shall speed. Then Sir Percivale alight upon that hackney, and rode\nas fast as he might. And at the last he saw that knight. And then he\ncried, Knight, turn again; and he turned, and set his spear against Sir\nPercivale, and he smote the hackney in the midst of the breast, that he\nfell down dead to the earth, and there he had a great fall, and the\nother rode his way. And then Sir Percivale was wood wroth, and cried,\nAbide, wicked knight, coward and false-hearted knight, turn again and\nfight with me on foot. But he answered not, but past on his way. When\nSir Percivale saw he would not turn, he cast away his helm and sword,\nand said, Now am I a very wretch, cursed, and most unhappy above all\nother knights. So in this sorrow he abode all that day till it was\nnight, and then he was faint, and laid him down and slept till it was\nmidnight. And then he awaked, and saw afore him a woman which said unto\nhim right fiercely, Sir Percivale, what doest thou here? He answered\nand said, I do neither good nor great ill. If thou wilt ensure me, said\nshe, that thou wilt fulfil my will when I summon thee, I shall lend\nthee mine own horse, which shall bear thee whither thou wilt. Sir\nPercivale was glad of her proffer, and ensured her to fulfil all her\ndesire.\u2014Then abide me here, and I shall go fetch you an horse. And so\nshe came soon again, and brought an horse with her that was inly black.\nWhen Sir Percivale beheld that horse, he marvelled that it was so great\nand so well apparelled: and not for then he was so hardy, and he lept\nupon him, and took none heed of himself. And so anon as he was upon him\nhe thrust to him with his spurs, and so rode by a forest, and the moon\nshone clear. And within an hour and less, he bare him four days\u2019\njourney thence, till he came to a rough water the which roared, and his\nhorse would have borne him into it.\n_Of the great danger that Sir Percivale was in by his horse, and how he\n saw a serpent and a lion fight._\nAnd when Sir Percivale came nigh the brim, and saw the water so\nboisterous, he doubted to overpass it. And then he made a sign of the\ncross in his forehead. When the fiend felt him so charged, he shook off\nSir Percivale, and he went into the water, crying and roaring, making\ngreat sorrow; and it seemed unto him that the water burnt. Then Sir\nPercivale perceived it was a fiend, the which would have brought him\nunto his perdition. Then he commended himself unto God, and prayed our\nLord to keep him from all such temptations. And so he prayed all that\nnight, till on the morn that it was day. Then he saw that he was in a\nwild mountain the which was closed with the sea nigh all about, that he\nmight see no land about him which might relieve him, but wild beasts.\nAnd then he went into a valley, and there he saw a young serpent bring\na young lion by the neck, and so he came by Sir Percivale. With that\ncame a great lion crying and roaring after the serpent. And as fast as\nSir Percivale saw this, he marvelled, and hied him thither, but anon\nthe lion had overtaken the serpent, and began battle with him. And then\nSir Percivale thought to help the lion, for he was the more natural\nbeast of the two; and therewith he drew his sword, and set his shield\nafore him, and there gave the serpent such a buffet that he had a\ndeadly wound. When the lion saw that, he made no resemblant to fight\nwith him, but made him all the cheer that a beast might make a man.\nThen Sir Percivale perceived that, and cast down his shield, which was\nbroken, and then he did off his helm for to gather wind, for he was\ngreatly enchafed with the serpent. And the lion went alway about him\nfawning as a spaniel. And then he stroked him on the neck and on the\nshoulders. And then he thanked God of the fellowship of that beast. And\nabout noon, the lion took his little whelp, and trussed him, and bare\nhim there he came from. Then was Sir Percivale alone. And as the tale\ntelleth, he was one of the men of the world at that time that most\nbelieved in our Lord Jesu Christ. For in these days there were few\nfolks that believed in God perfectly. For in those days the son spared\nnot the father no more than a stranger. And so Sir Percivale comforted\nhimself in our Lord Jesu, and besought God that no temptation should\nbring him out of God\u2019s service, but to endure as his true champion.\nThus when Sir Percivale had prayed, he saw the lion come toward him,\nand then he couched down at his feet. And so all that night the lion\nand he slept together: and when Sir Percivale slept he dreamed a\nmarvellous dream, that there two ladies met with him, and that one sat\nupon a lion, and that other sat upon a serpent, and that one of them\nwas young, and the other was old, and the youngest him thought said,\nSir Percivale, my lord saluteth thee, and sendeth thee word that thou\narray thee and make thee ready, for to-morn thou must fight with the\nstrongest champion of the world. And if thou be overcome, thou shalt\nnot be quit for losing of any of thy members, but thou shalt be shamed\nfor ever to the world\u2019s end. And then he asked her what was her lord.\nAnd she said, the greatest lord of all the world. And so she departed\nsuddenly, that he wist not where.\n_Of the vision that Sir Percivale saw, and how his vision was\n expounded, and of his lion._\nThen came forth the other lady that rode upon the serpent, and she\nsaid, Sir Percivale, I complain me of you that ye have done unto me,\nand have not offended unto you. Certes, madam, said he, unto you nor no\nlady I never offended. Yes, said she, I shall tell you why. I have\nnourished in this place a great while a serpent, which served me a\ngreat while, and yesterday ye slew him as he gat his prey. Say me for\nwhat cause ye slew him, for the lion was not yours? Madam, said Sir\nPercivale, I know well the lion was not mine, but I did it, for the\nlion is of a more gentler nature than the serpent, and therefore I slew\nhim; me seemeth I did not amiss against you. Madam, said he, what would\nye that I did? I would, said she, for the amends of my beast that ye\nbecome my man. And then he answered, That will I not grant you. No,\nsaid she, truly ye were never but my servant, since ye received the\nhomage of our Lord Jesu Christ. Therefore I ensure you in what place I\nmay find you without keeping, I shall take you as he that sometime was\nmy man. And so she departed from Sir Percivale, and left him sleeping,\nthe which was sore travailed of his vision. And on the morn he rose and\nblessed him, and he was passing feeble. Then was Sir Percivale ware in\nthe sea, and saw a ship come sailing toward him, and Sir Percivale went\nunto the ship, and found it covered within and without with white\nsamite. And at the board stood an old man clothed in a surplice in\nlikeness of a priest. Sir, said Sir Percivale, ye be welcome. God keep\nyou, said the good man. Sir, said the old man, of whence be ye? Sir,\nsaid Sir Percivale, I am of king Arthur\u2019s court, and a knight of the\nTable Round, the which am in the quest of the Sancgreal, and here I am\nin great duresse, and never like to escape out of this wilderness.\nDoubt not, said the good man, and ye be so true a knight as the order\nof chivalry requireth, and of heart as ye ought to be, ye should not\ndoubt that none enemy should slay you. What are ye? said Sir Percivale.\nSir, said the old man, I am of a strange country, and hither I come to\ncomfort you. Sir, said Sir Percivale, what signifieth my dream that I\ndreamed this night? And there he told him altogether. She which rode\nupon the lion, said the good man, betokeneth the new law of holy\nChurch, that is to understand faith, good hope, belief, and baptism.\nFor she seemed younger than the other, it is great reason, for she was\nborn in the resurrection and the passion of our Lord Jesu Christ. And\nfor great love she came to thee, to warn thee of thy great battle that\nshall befall thee. With whom, said Sir Percivale, shall I fight? With\nthe most champion of the world, said the old man, for, as the lady\nsaid, but if thou quit thee well, thou shalt not be quit by losing of\none member, but thou shalt be shamed to the world\u2019s end. And she that\nrode upon the serpent signifieth the old law, and that serpent\nbetokeneth a fiend. And why she blamed thee that thou slewest her\nservant, it betokeneth nothing: the serpent that thou slewest\nbetokeneth the devil that thou rodest upon to the rock, and when thou\nmadest a sign of the cross, there thou slewest him, and put away his\npower. And when she asked thee amends and to become her man, and thou\nsaidest thou wouldest not, that was to make thee to believe on her and\nleave thy baptism. So he commanded Sir Percivale to depart. And so he\nlept over the board, and the ship and all went away he wist not\nwhither. Then he went up unto the rock and found the lion, which alway\nkept him fellowship, and he stroked him upon the back, and had great\njoy of him.\n_How Sir Percivale saw a ship coming to him-ward, and how the lady of\n the ship told him of her disheritance._\nBy that Sir Percivale had abiden there till midday he saw a ship come\nrowing in the sea as all the wind of the world had driven it. And so it\ndrove under that rock. And when Sir Percivale saw this, he hied him\nthither, and found the ship covered with silk more blacker than any\nbier, and therein was a gentlewoman of great beauty, and she was\nclothed richly that none might be better. And when she saw Sir\nPercivale, she said, Who brought you in this wilderness where ye be\nnever like to pass hence? for ye shall die here for hunger and\nmischief. Damsel, said Sir Percivale, I serve the best man of the\nworld, and in his service he will not suffer me to die, for who that\nknocketh shall enter, and who that asketh shall have, and who that\nseeketh him, he hideth him not. But then she said, Sir Percivale wot ye\nwhat I am? Yea, said he. Now who taught you my name? said she. Now,\nsaid Sir Percivale, I know you better than ye ween. And I came out of\nthe waste forest, where I found the red knight with the white shield,\nsaid the damsel. Ah damsel, said he, with that knight would I meet\npassing fain. Sir, said she, and ye will ensure me, by the faith that\nye owe unto knighthood, that ye shall do my will what time I summon\nyou, I shall bring you unto that knight. Yea, said he, I shall promise\nyou to fulfil your desire. Well, said she, now shall I tell you, I saw\nhim in the forest chasing two knights to a water, the which is called\nMortaise, and he drove them into that water for dread of death, and the\ntwo knights passed over, and the red knight passed after, and there his\nhorse was drenched, and he through great strength escaped unto the\nland. Thus she told him, and Sir Percivale was passing glad thereof.\nThen she asked him if he had eaten any meat late? Nay madam, truly I\nate no meat nigh these three days, but late here I spake with a good\nman that fed me with his good words and holy, and refreshed me greatly.\nAh, sir knight, said she, that same man is an enchanter, and a\nmultiplier of words. For, and ye believe him, ye shall plainly be\nshamed, and die in this rock for pure hunger, and be eaten with wild\nbeasts, and ye be a young man and a goodly knight, and I shall help you\nand ye will. What are ye? said Sir Percivale, that proffereth me thus\ngreat kindness. I am, said she, a gentlewoman that am disherited, which\nwas sometime the richest woman of the world. Damsel, said Sir\nPercivale, who hath disherited you, for I have great pity of you? Sir,\nsaid she, I dwelled with the greatest man of the world, and he made me\nso fair and so clear that there was none like me, and of that great\nbeauty I had a little pride, more than I ought to have had. Also, I\nsaid a word that pleased him not. And then he would not suffer me to be\nany longer in his company, and so drove me from mine heritage, and so\ndisherited me, and he had never pity of me nor of none of my council,\nnor of my court. And sithen, sir knight, it hath befallen me so, and\nthrough me and mine I have taken from him many of his men, and made\nthem to become my men. For they ask never nothing of me but I give it\nthem, that and much more. Thus I and all my servants war against him\nnight and day. Therefore I know now no good knight, nor no good man,\nbut I get them on my side and I may. And for that I know that thou art\na good knight, I beseech you to help me. And for ye be a fellow of the\nRound Table, wherefore ye ought not to fail no gentlewoman which is\ndisherited, and she besought you of help.\n_How Sir Percivale promised her help, and how he required her of love,\n and how he was saved from the fiend._\nThen Sir Percivale promised her all the help that he might. And then\nshe thanked him. And at that time the weather was hot, and then she\ncalled unto her a gentlewoman, and bad her bring forth a pavilion; and\nso she did, and pight it upon the gravel. Sir, said she, now may ye\nrest you in this heat of the day. Then he thanked her, and she put off\nhis helm and his shield, and there he slept a great while. And then he\nawoke, and asked her if she had any meat, and she said, Yea, also ye\nshall have enough; and so there was set enough upon the table, and\nthereon so much that he had marvel for there was all manner of meats\nthat he could think on. Also he drank there the strongest wine that\never he drank, him thought, and therewith he was a little heated more\nthan he ought to be. With that he beheld the gentlewoman, and him\nthought that she was the fairest creature that ever he saw. And then\nSir Percivale proffered her love, and prayed her that she would be his.\nThen she refused him in a manner when he required her, for the cause he\nshould be the more ardent on her, and ever he ceased not to pray her of\nlove. And when she saw him well enchafed, then she said, Sir Percivale,\nwit ye well, I shall not fulfil your will, but if ye swear from\nhenceforth ye shall be my true servant, and to do nothing but that I\nshall command you: will ye ensure me this as ye be a true knight? Yea,\nsaid he, fair lady, by the faith of my body. Well, said she, now shall\nye do with me whatso it please you, and now wit ye well that ye are the\nknight in the world that I have most desire to. And then Sir Percivale\ncame near to her, to proffer her love, and by adventure and grace he\nsaw his sword lie upon the ground all naked, in whose pommel was a red\ncross, and the sign of the crucifix therein, and bethought him on his\nknighthood, and his promise made toforehand unto the good man. Then he\nmade the sign of the cross in his forehead, and therewith the pavilion\nturned up so down, and then it changed unto a smoke and a black cloud,\nand then he was adread, and cried aloud,\u2014\n_How Sir Percivale for penance rove himself through the thigh; and how\n she was known for the devil._\nFair sweet Father, Jesu Christ, ne let me not be shamed, the which was\nnear lost had not thy good grace been! And then he looked into a ship,\nand saw her enter therein, which said, Sir Percivale, ye have betrayed\nme. And so she went with the wind roaring and yelling, that it seemed\nthat all the water burnt after her. Then Sir Percivale made great\nsorrow, and drew his sword unto him, saying, Sithen my flesh will be my\nmaster, I shall punish it. And therewith he rove himself through the\nthigh, that the blood start about him, and said, O good Lord, take this\nin recompensation of that I have done against thee my Lord. So then he\nclothed him and armed him, and called himself a wretch, saying, How\nnigh was I lost, and to have lost that I should never have gotten\nagain, that was my virginity, for that may never be recovered after it\nis once lost. And then he stopped his bleeding wound with a piece of\nhis shirt. Thus as he made his moan, he saw the same ship come from the\nOrient that the good man was in the day before: and the noble knight\nwas ashamed with himself, and therewith he fell in a swoon. And when he\nawoke he went unto him weakly, and there he saluted this good man. And\nthen he asked Sir Percivale, How hast thou done sith I departed? Sir,\nsaid he, here was a gentlewoman, and led me into deadly sin: and there\nhe told him altogether. Knew ye not the maid? said the good man. Sir,\nsaid he, nay: but well I wot the fiend sent her hither to shame me. Oh,\ngood knight, said he, thou art a fool, for that gentlewoman was the\nmaster fiend of hell, the which hath power above all devils, and that\nwas the old lady that thou sawest in thy vision riding on the serpent.\nThen he told Sir Percivale how our Lord Jesu Christ beat him out of\nheaven for his sin, the which was the most brightest angel of heaven,\nand therefore he lost his heritage, and that was the champion that thou\nfoughtest withal, the which had overcome thee, had not the grace of God\nbeen: now beware, Sir Percivale, and take this for an ensample. And\nthen the good man vanished away. Then Sir Percivale took his arms, and\nentered into the ship, and so departed from thence.\nHere endeth the fourtenthe booke, whiche is of syr percyual. And here\n foloweth of syre launcelot whiche is the fyftenth book.\n_How Sir Launcelot came into a chapel, where he found dead, in a white\n shirt, a man of religion of an hundred winter old._\nWhen the hermit had kept Sir Launcelot three days, the hermit gat him\nan horse, an helm, and a sword. And then he departed about the hour of\nnoon. And then he saw a little house, and when he came near he saw a\nchapel, and there beside he saw an old man that was clothed all in\nwhite full richly, and then Sir Launcelot said, God save you. God keep\nyou, said the good man, and make you a good knight. Then Sir Launcelot\nalight, and entered into the chapel, and there he saw an old man dead,\nin a white shirt of passing fine cloth. Sir, said the good man, this\nman that is dead ought not to be in such clothing as ye see him in, for\nin that he brake the oath of his order. For he hath been more than an\nhundred winters a man of a religion. And then the good man and Sir\nLauncelot went into the chapel, and the good man took a stole about his\nneck, and a book, and then he conjured on that book, and with that they\nsaw in an hideous figure and an horrible, that there was no man so\nhard-hearted nor so hard but he should have been afeard. Then said the\nfiend, Thou hast travailed me greatly, now tell me what thou wilt with\nme? I will, said the good man, that thou tell me how my fellow became\ndead, and whether he be saved or damned? Then he said with a horrible\nvoice, He is not lost, but saved. How may that be? said the good man;\nit seemed to me that he lived not well, for he brake his order for to\nwear a shirt, where he ought to wear none: and who that trespasseth\nagainst our order doth not well. Not so, said the fiend, this man that\nlieth here dead was come of a great lineage. And there was a lord that\nhight the earl de Vale, that held great war against this man\u2019s nephew,\nthe which hight Aguarus. And so this Aguarus saw the earl was bigger\nthan he, then he went for to take counsel of his uncle, the which lieth\nhere dead as ye may see. And then he asked leave, and went out of his\nhermitage for to maintain his nephew against the mighty earl. And so it\nhapped that this man that lieth here dead did so much by his wisdom and\nhardiness that the earl was taken, and three of his lords, by force of\nthis dead man.\n_Of a dead man, how men would have hewen him, and it would not be, and\n how Sir Launcelot took the hair of the dead man._\nThen was there peace betwixt the earl and this Aguarus, and great\nsurety that the earl should never war against him. Then this dead man\nthat here lieth came to this hermitage again, and then the earl made\ntwo of his nephews for to be avenged upon this man. So they came on a\nday, and found this dead man at the sacring of his mass, and they abode\nhim till he had said mass. And then they set upon him and drew out\nswords to have slain him. But there would no sword bite on him, more\nthan upon a gad of steel, for the high Lord which he served he him\npreserved. Then made they a great fire, and did off all his cloathes\nand the hair off his back; and then this dead man hermit said unto\nthem, Ween ye to burn me? It shall not lie in your power, nor to perish\nme as much as a thread, and there were any on my body. No! said one of\nthem, it shall be assayed. And then they despoiled him, and put upon\nhim this shirt, and cast him in a fire, and there he lay all that night\ntill it was day, in that fire, and was not dead. And so in the morn I\ncame and found him dead, but I found neither thread nor skin perished;\nand so took him out of the fire with great fear, and laid him here as\nye may see. And now may ye suffer me to go my way, for I have said you\nthe truth. And then he departed with a great tempest. Then was the good\nman and Sir Launcelot more gladder than they were tofore. And then Sir\nLauncelot dwelled with that good man that night. Sir, said the good\nman, be ye not Sir Launcelot du Lake? Yea, sir, said he. What seek ye\nin this country? Sir, said Sir Launcelot, I go to seek the adventures\nof the Sancgreal. Well, said he, seek it ye may well, but though it\nwere here ye shall have no power to see it, no more than a blind man\nshould see a bright sword, and that is long on your sin, and else ye\nwere more abler than any man living. And then Sir Launcelot began to\nweep. Then said the good man, Were ye confessed sith ye entered into\nthe quest of the Sancgreal? Yea, sir, said Sir Launcelot. Then upon the\nmorn, when the good man had sung his mass, then they buried the dead\nman. Then Sir Launcelot said, Father, what shall I do? Now, said the\ngood man, I require you take this hair that was this holy man\u2019s, and\nput it next thy skin, and it shall prevail thee greatly. Sir, and I\nwill do it, said Sir Launcelot. Also I charge you that ye eat no flesh\nas long as ye be in the quest of the Sancgreal, nor ye shall drink no\nwine, and that ye hear mass daily and ye may do it. So he took the hair\nand put it upon him, and so departed at evensong time. And so rode he\ninto a forest, and there he met with a gentlewoman riding upon a white\npalfrey, and then she asked him, Sir knight, whither ride ye? Certes\ndamsel, said Launcelot, I wot not whither I ride, but as fortune\nleadeth me. Ah, Sir Launcelot, said she, I wot what adventure ye seek,\nfor ye were aforetime nearer than ye be now, and yet shall ye see it\nmore openly than ever ye did, and that shall ye understand in short\ntime. Then Sir Launcelot asked her where he might be harboured that\nnight? Ye shall not find this day nor night, but to-morn ye shall find\nharbour good, and ease of that ye be in doubt of. And then he commended\nher unto God. Then he rode till that he came to a cross, and took that\nfor his host as for that night.\n_Of a vision that Sir Launcelot had, and how he told it to an hermit,\n and desired counsel of him._\nAnd so he put his horse to pasture, and did off his helm and his\nshield, and made his prayers unto the cross that he never fall in\ndeadly sin again. And so he laid him down to sleep. And anon as he was\nasleep it befell him there a vision, that there came a man afore him\nall by compass of stars, and that man had a crown of gold on his head,\nand that man led in his fellowship seven kings and two knights. And all\nthese worshipped the cross, kneeling upon their knees, holding up their\nhands towards the heaven; and all they said, Fair sweet Father of\nheaven, come and visit us, and yield unto us every each as we have\ndeserved. Then looked Launcelot up to the heaven, and him seemed the\nclouds did open, and an old man came down with a company of angels, and\nalight among them, and gave unto every each his blessing, and called\nthem his servants, and good and true knights. And when this old man had\nsaid thus, he came to one of those knights and said, I have lost all\nthat I have set in thee, for thou hast ruled thee against me as a\nwarrior, and used wrong wars with vain glory, more for the pleasure of\nthe world than to please me, therefore thou shalt be confounded without\nthou yield me my treasure. All this vision saw Sir Launcelot at the\ncross. And on the morn he took his horse and rode till mid day, and\nthere, by adventure, he met with the same knight that took his horse,\nhis helm, and his sword, when he slept when the Sancgreal appeared\nafore the cross. When Sir Launcelot saw him he saluted him not fair,\nbut cried on high, Knight, keep thee, for thou hast done to me great\nunkindness. And then they put afore them their spears, and Sir\nLauncelot came so fiercely upon him that he smote him and his horse\ndown to the earth, that he had nigh broken his neck. Then Sir Launcelot\ntook the knight\u2019s horse, that was his own aforehand, and descended from\nthe horse he sat upon, and tied the knight\u2019s own horse to a tree, that\nhe might find that horse when that he was arisen.\nThen Sir Launcelot rode till night, and by adventure he met an hermit,\nand each of them saluted other, and there he rested with that good man\nall night, and gave his horse such as he might get. Then said the good\nman unto Launcelot, Of whence be ye? Sir, said he, I am of Arthur\u2019s\ncourt, and my name is Sir Launcelot du Lake, that am in the quest of\nthe Sancgreal. And therefore I pray you to counsel me of a vision, the\nwhich I had at the cross. And so he told him all.\n_How the hermit expounded to Sir Launcelot his vision, and told him\n that Sir Galahad was his son._\nLo, Sir Launcelot, said the good man, there thou mightest understand\nthe high lineage that thou art come of, and thy vision betokeneth:\nAfter the passion of Jesu Christ forty years, Joseph of Aramathie\npreached the victory of king Evelake, that he had in the battles the\nbetter of his enemies. And of the seven kings and the two knights: the\nfirst of them is called Nappus, an holy man; and the second hight\nNacien, in remembrance of his grandsire, and in him dwelled our Lord\nJesu Christ; and the third was called Hellias le Grose; and the fourth\nhight Lisais; and the fifth hight Jonas, he departed out of his country\nand went into Wales, and took the daughter of Manuel, whereby he had\nthe land of Gaul, and he came to dwell in this country, and of him came\nking Launcelot thy grandsire, which there wedded the king\u2019s daughter of\nIreland, and he was as worthy a man as thou art, and of him came king\nBan thy father, the which was the last of the seven kings. And by thee,\nSir Launcelot, it signifieth that the angels said thou were none of the\nseven fellowships. And the last was the ninth knight, he was signified\nto a lion, for he should pass all manner of earthly knights, that is\nSir Galahad, the which thou gat of king Pelles\u2019 daughter, and thou\nought to thank God more than any other man living; for of a sinner\nearthly thou hast no peer as in knighthood, nor never shall be. But\nlittle thank hast thou given to God for all the great virtues that God\nhath lent thee.\nSir, said Launcelot, ye say that that good knight is my son. That\noughtest thou to know, and no man better, said the good man, for by the\ndaughter of king Pelles thou hadst Galahad, and that was he that at the\nfeast of Pentecost sat in the siege perilous, and therefore make thou\nit known openly that he is thy son, for that will be your worship and\nhonour, and to all thy kindred. And I counsel you in no place press not\nupon him to have ado with him. Well, said Launcelot, me seemeth that\ngood knight should pray for me unto the high Father that I fall not to\nsin again. Trust thou well, said the good man, thou farest much the\nbetter for his prayer; but the son shall not bear the wickedness of the\nfather, nor the father shall not bear the wickedness of the son, but\nevery each shall bear his own burthen; and therefore beseek thou only\nGod, and he will help thee in all thy needs. And then Sir Launcelot and\nhe went to supper, and so laid him to rest, and the hair pricked so Sir\nLauncelot\u2019s skin, which grieved him full sore, but he took it meekly,\nand suffered the pain. And so on the morn he heard his mass, and took\nhis arms, and so took his leave.\n_How Sir Launcelot justed with many knights, and how he was taken._\nAnd then he mounted upon his horse and rode into a forest, and held no\nhighway. And as he looked afore him he saw a fair plain, and beside\nthat a fair castle, and afore the castle were many pavilions of silk\nand of divers hue. And him seemed that he saw there five hundred\nknights riding on horseback, and there were two parties; they that were\nof the castle were all on black horses, and their trappings black. And\nthey that were without were all on white horses and trappings: and\nevery each hurtled to other, that it marvelled Sir Launcelot. And at\nthe last him thought they of the castle were put to the worse. Then\nthought Sir Launcelot for to help there the weaker party, in increasing\nof his chivalry. And so Sir Launcelot thrust in among the party of the\ncastle, and smote down a knight, horse and man, to the earth. And then\nhe rashed here and there, and did marvellous deeds of arms. And then he\ndrew out his sword and strake many knights to the earth, so that all\nthose that saw him marvelled that ever one knight might do so great\ndeeds of arms. But always the white knights held them nigh about Sir\nLauncelot, for to tire him and wind him.\nBut at the last, as a man may not ever endure, Sir Launcelot waxed so\nfaint of fighting and travailing, and was so weary of his great deeds,\nthat he might not lift up his arms for to give one stroke, so that he\nwend never to have borne arms: and then they all took him and led him\naway into a forest, and there made him to alight and to rest him. And\nthen all the fellowship of the castle were overcome for the default of\nhim, and then they said all unto Sir Launcelot, Blessed be God that ye\nbe now of our fellowship, for we shall hold you in our prison. And so\nthey left him with few words. And then Sir Launcelot made great\nsorrow,\u2014For never or now was I never at tournament nor justs but I had\nthe best, and now I am shamed. And then he said, Now I am sure that I\nam more sinfuller than ever I was. Thus he rode sorrowing, and half a\nday was he out of despair, till that he came into a deep valley, and\nwhen Sir Launcelot saw he might not ride up into the mountain, he there\nalight under an apple-tree, and there he left his helm and his shield,\nand put his horse unto pasture. And then he laid him down to sleep. And\nthen him thought there came an old man afore him, the which said, Ah,\nLauncelot, of evil faith and poor belief, wherefore is thy will turned\nso lightly towards thy deadly sin? And when he had said thus he\nvanished away, and Launcelot wist not where he was become. Then he took\nhis horse, and armed him. And as he rode by the way he saw a chapel,\nwhere was a recluse, which had a window that she might see up to the\naltar. And all aloud she called Launcelot, for that he seemed a knight\nerrant. And then he came, and she asked him what he was, and of what\nplace, and where about he went to seek.\n_How Sir Launcelot told his vision unto a woman, and how she expounded\n it to him._\nAnd then he told her altogether word by word, and the truth how it\nbefel him at the tournament. And after told her his vision, that he had\nhad that night in his sleep, and prayed her to tell him what it might\nmean, for he was not well content with it. Ah, Launcelot, said she, as\nlong as ye were knight of earthly knighthood, ye were the most\nmarvellous man of the world, and most adventurous. Now, said the lady,\nsince ye be set among the knights of heavenly adventures, if adventure\nfell the contrary at that tournament, have thou no marvel; for that\ntournament yesterday was but a tokening of our Lord. And not for then\nthere was none enchantment, for they at the tournament were earthly\nknights. The tournament was a token for to see who should have most\nknights, either Eliazar the son of king Pelles, or Argustus the son of\nking Harlon; but Eliazar was all clothed in white, and Argustus was\ncovered in black, the which were come. All what this betokeneth I shall\ntell you. The day of Pentecost, when king Arthur held his court, it\nbefell that earthly kings and knights took a tournament together, that\nis to say, the quest of the Sancgreal. The earthly knights were they,\nthe which were clothed all in black, and the covering betokeneth the\nsins whereof they be not confessed. And they with the covering of white\nbetokeneth virginity, and they that chosen chastity. And thus was the\nquest begun in them. Then thou beheld the sinners and the good men, and\nwhen thou sawest the sinners overcome, thou inclinedst to that party,\nfor boasting and pride of the world, and all that must be left in that\nquest. For in this quest thou shalt have many fellows and thy betters,\nfor thou art so feeble of evil trust and good belief, this made it when\nthou were there where they took thee, and led thee into the forest. And\nanon there appeared the Sancgreal unto the white knights, but thou was\nso feeble of good belief and faith, that thou might not abide it, for\nall the teaching of the good man, but anon thou turnedst unto the\nsinners; and that caused thy misadventure, that thou shouldest know\ngood from evil and vain glory of the world, the which is not worth a\npear. And for great pride thou madest great sorrow that thou hadst not\novercome all the white knights with the covering of white, by whom was\nbetokened virginity and chastity, and therefore God was wroth with you,\nfor God loveth no such deeds in this quest; and this vision signifieth\nthat thou were of evil faith and of poor belief, the which will make\nthee to fall into the deep pit of hell, if thou keep thee not. Now have\nI warned thee of thy vain glory and of thy pride, that thou hast many\ntimes erred against thy Maker. Beware of everlasting pain, for of all\nearthly knights I have most pity of thee, for I know well thou hast not\nthy peer of any earthly sinful man. And so she commanded Sir Launcelot\nto dinner; and after dinner he took his horse and commended her to God,\nand so rode into a deep valley, and there he saw a river and an high\nmountain. And through the water he must needs pass, the which was\nhideous; and then in the name of God he took it with good heart. And\nwhen he came over he saw an armed knight, horse and man black as any\nbear: without any word he smote Sir Launcelot\u2019s horse to the earth, and\nso he passed on: he wist not where he was become. And then he took his\nhelm and his shield, and thanked God of his adventure.\nHere leueth of the story of syr launcelot. And speke we of sir Gawayne,\n the whiche is the xvi. book.\n_How Sir Gawaine was nigh weary of the quest of the Sangreal, and of\n his marvellous dream._\nWhen Sir Gawaine was departed from his fellowship, he rode long without\nany adventure. For he found not the tenth part of adventure as he was\nwont to do. For Sir Gawaine rode from Whitsunday unto Michaelmas, and\nfound none adventure that pleased him. So on a day it befell Gawaine\nmet with Sir Ector de Maris, and either made great joy of other, that\nit were marvel to tell. And so they told every each other, and\ncomplained them greatly that they could find none adventure.\nTruly, said Sir Gawaine unto Sir Ector, I am nigh weary of this quest,\nand loth I am to follow further in strange countries. One thing\nmarvelleth me, said Sir Ector, I have met with twenty knights, fellows\nof mine, and all they complain as I do. I marvel, said Sir Gawaine,\nwhere that Sir Launcelot your brother is. Truly, said Sir Ector, I\ncannot hear of him, nor of Sir Galahad, Percivale, nor Sir Bors. Let\nthem be, said Sir Gawaine, for they four have no peers. And if one\nthing were not in Sir Launcelot, he had no fellow of none earthly man;\nbut he is as we be, but if he took more pain upon him. But and these\nfour be met together, they will be loth that any man meet with them;\nfor, and they fail of the Sancgreal, it is in waste of all the remnant\nto recover it. Thus as Ector and Gawaine rode more than eight days. And\non a Saturday they found an old chapel, the which was wasted that there\nseemed no man thither repaired, and there they alight, and set their\nspears at the door, and in they entered into the chapel, and there made\ntheir orisons a great while, and then set them down in the sieges of\nthe chapel. And as they spake of one thing and other, for heaviness\nthey fell on sleep, and there befell them both marvellous adventures.\nSir Gawaine him seemed he came into a meadow full of herbs and flowers.\nAnd there he saw a rack of bulls an hundred and fifty, that were proud\nand black, save three of them were all white, and one had a black spot,\nand the other two were so fair and so white that they might be no\nwhiter. And these three bulls which were so fair were tied with two\nstrong cords. And the remnant of the bulls said among them, Go we hence\nto seek better pasture. And so some went, and some came again; but they\nwere so lean that they might not stand upright; and of the bulls that\nwere so white, that one came again, and no more. But when this white\nbull was come again among these other, there arose up a great cry for\nlack of wind that failed them; and so they departed, one here and\nanother there. This vision befell Sir Gawaine that night.\n_Of the vision of Sir Ector, and how he justed with Sir Uwaine les\n Avoutres, his sworn brother._\nBut to Sir Ector de Maris befell another vision, the contrary. For it\nseemed him that his brother Sir Launcelot and he alight out of a chair\nand lept upon two horses, and the one said to the other, Go we seek\nthat we shall not find. And him thought that a man beat Sir Launcelot\nand despoiled him, and clothed him in another array, the which was all\nfull of knots, and set him upon an ass. And so he rode till he came to\nthe fairest well that ever he saw, and Sir Launcelot alight, and would\nhave drunk of that well. And when he stooped to drink of the water, the\nwater sank from him. And when Sir Launcelot saw that, he turned and\nwent thither as the head came from. And in the meanwhile he trowed that\nhimself and Sir Ector rode till that they came to a rich man\u2019s house,\nwhere there was a wedding. And there he saw a king, the which said, Sir\nknight, here is no place for you: and then he turned again unto the\nchair that he came from. Thus within a while both Gawaine and Ector\nawaked, and either told other of their vision, the which marvelled them\ngreatly. Truly, said Ector, I shall never be merry till I hear tidings\nof my brother Launcelot.\nNow as they sat thus talking, they saw an hand shewing unto the elbow,\nand was covered with red samite, and upon that hung a bridle not rich,\nand held within the fist a great candle which burnt right clear, and so\npassed afore them, and entered into the chapel, and then vanished away,\nand they wist not where. And anon came down a voice which said, Knights\nfull of evil faith and poor belief, these two things have failed you,\nand therefore ye may not come to the adventures of the Sancgreal. Then\nfirst spake Gawaine and said, Ector, have ye heard these words? Yea\ntruly, said Sir Ector, I heard all. Now go we, said Sir Ector, unto\nsome hermit that will tell us of our vision, for it seemeth me we\nlabour all in vain. And so they departed and rode into a valley, and\nthere met with a squire which rode on an hackney, and they saluted him\nfair. Sir, said Gawaine, can thou teach us to any hermit? Here is one\nin a little mountain, said the squire, but it is so rough that there\nmay no horse go thither; and therefore ye must go on foot: there shall\nye find a poor house, and there is Nacien the hermit, which is the\nholiest man in this country. And so they departed either from other.\nAnd then in a valley they met with a knight all armed, which proffered\nthem to just as far as he saw them. Truly, said Sir Gawaine, sith I\ndeparted from Camelot there was none proffered me to just but once. And\nnow, sir, said Ector, let me just with him. Nay, said Gawaine, ye shall\nnot, but if I be beaten, it shall not forthink me then if ye go after\nme. And then either enbraced other to just, and came together as fast\nas their horses might run, and brast their shields and the mails, and\nthe one more than the other: and Gawaine was wounded in the left side,\nbut the other knight was smitten through the breast, and the spear came\nout on the other side, and so they fell both out of their saddles, and\nin the falling they brake both their spears. Anon Gawaine arose, and\nset his hand to his sword, and cast his shield afore him. But all for\nnought was it, for the knight had no power to arise against him. Then\nsaid Gawaine, Ye must yield you as an overcome man, or else I may slay\nyou. Ah, sir knight, said he, I am but dead; for God\u2019s sake, and of\nyour gentleness, lead me here unto an abbey, that I may receive my\nCreator. Sir, said Gawaine, I know no house of religion hereby. Sir,\nsaid the knight, set me on an horse tofore you, and I shall teach you.\nGawaine set him up in the saddle, and he lept up behind him for to\nsustain him, and so came to an abbey, where they were well received;\nand anon he was unarmed, and received his Creator. Then he prayed\nGawaine to draw the truncheon of the spear out of his body. Then\nGawaine asked him what he was, that knew him not? I am, said he, of\nking Arthur\u2019s court, and was a fellow of the Round Table, and we were\nbrethren sworn together, and now, Sir Gawaine, thou hast slain me, and\nmy name is Uwaine les Avoutres, that sometime was son unto king Uriens,\nand was in the quest of the Sancgreal; and now forgive it thee God, for\nit shall ever be said that the one sworn brother hath slain the other.\n_How Sir Gawaine and Sir Ector came to an hermitage to be confessed,\n and how they told to the hermit their visions._\nAlas, said Sir Gawaine, that ever this misadventure is befallen me. No\nforce, said Uwaine, sith I shall die this death, of a much more\nworshipfuller man\u2019s hands might I not die; but when ye come to the\ncourt, recommand me unto my lord king Arthur, and all those that be\nleft onlive, and for old brotherhood think on me. Then began Gawaine to\nweep, and Ector also. And then Uwaine himself, and Sir Gawaine, drew\nout the truncheon of the spear; and anon departed the soul from the\nbody. Then Sir Gawaine and Sir Ector buried him, as men ought to bury a\nking\u2019s son, and made written upon his name, and by whom he was slain.\nThen departed Gawaine and Ector, as heavy as they might for their\nmisadventure; and so rode till that they came unto the rough mountain,\nand there they tied their horses, and went on foot to the hermitage.\nAnd when they were come up, they saw a poor house, and beside the\nchapel a little courtlage, where Nacien the hermit gathered worts, as\nhe which had tasted none other meat of a great while. And when he saw\nthe errant knights, he came toward them and saluted them, and they him\nagain. Fair lords, said he, what adventure brought you hither? Sir,\nsaid Gawaine, to speak with you, for to be confessed. Sir, said the\nhermit, I am ready. Then they told him so much that he wist well what\nthey were, and then he thought to counsel them if he might. Then began\nGawaine first, and told him of his vision that he had had in the\nchapel: and Ector told him all as it is afore rehearsed. Sir, said the\nhermit unto Sir Gawaine, the fair meadow and the rack therein ought to\nbe understood the Round Table, and by the meadow ought to be understood\nhumility and patience, those be the things which be always green and\nquick; for men may no time overcome humility and patience, therefore\nwas the Round Table founded, and the chivalry hath been at all times,\nso by the fraternity which was there that she might not be overcome.\nFor men said she was founded in patience and in humility. At the rack\nate an hundred and fifty bulls, but they ate not in the meadow, for\ntheir hearts should be set in humility and patience, and the bulls were\nproud and black, save only three. By the bulls is to understand the\nfellowship of the Round Table, which for their sin and their wickedness\nbe black. Blackness is to say without good or virtuous works. And the\nthree bulls which were white, save only one which was spotted;\u2014the two\nwhite betoken Sir Galahad and Sir Percivale, for they be maidens clean\nand without spot; and the third that had a spot signifieth Sir Bors de\nGanis, which trespassed but once in his virginity, but since he kept\nhimself so well in chastity that all is forgiven him, and his misdeeds.\nAnd why those three were tied by the necks, they be three knights in\nvirginity and chastity, and there is no pride smitten in them. And the\nblack bulls which said, Go we hence, they were those which at\nPentecost, at the high feast, took upon them to go in the quest of the\nSancgreal without confession: they might not enter in the meadow of\nhumility and patience. And therefore they returned into waste\ncountries, that signifieth death, for there shall die many of them:\nevery each of them shall slay other for sin, and they that shall escape\nshall be so lean that it shall be marvel to see them. And of the three\nbulls without spot, the one shall come again, and the other two never.\n_How the hermit expounded their vision._\nThen spake Nacien unto Ector. Sooth it is that Launcelot and ye came\ndown of one chair: the chair betokeneth mastership and lordship, which\nye came down from. But ye two knights, said the hermit, ye go to seek\nthat ye shall never find, that is the Sancgreal. For it is the secret\nthing of our Lord Jesu Christ. What is to mean, that Sir Launcelot fell\ndown off his horse:\u2014he hath left pride, and taken him to humility, for\nhe hath cried mercy loud for his sin, and sore repented him, and our\nLord hath clothed him in His clothing, which is full of knots, that is\nthe hair which he weareth daily. And the ass that he rode upon is a\nbeast of humility. For God would not ride upon no steed, nor upon no\npalfrey. So in ensample that an ass betokeneth meekness, that thou\nsawest Sir Launcelot ride on in thy sleep: and the well where as the\nwater sank from him when he should have taken thereof, and when he saw\nhe might not have it, he returned thither from whence he came, for the\nwell betokeneth the high grace of God, the more men desire it to take\nit, the more shall be their desire. So when he came nigh the Sancgreal,\nhe meeked him that he held him not a man worthy to be so nigh the holy\nvessel, for he had been so defouled in deadly sin by the space of many\nyears, yet when he kneeled to drink of the well, there he saw great\nprovidence of the Sancgreal. And for he had served so long the devil,\nhe shall have vengeance four and twenty days long, for that he hath\nbeen the devil\u2019s servant four and twenty years. And then soon after he\nshall return unto Camelot out of this country, and he shall say a part\nof such things as he hath found.\nNow will I tell you what betokeneth the hand with the candle and the\nbridle; that is to understand the Holy Ghost, where charity is ever,\nand the bridle signifieth abstinence. For when she is bridled in\nChristian man\u2019s heart, she holdeth him so short that he falleth not in\ndeadly sin. And the candle which sheweth clearness and sight,\nsignifieth the right way of Jesu Christ. And when he went, and said,\nKnights of poor faith and of wicked belief,\u2014these three things failed,\ncharity, abstinence, and truth, therefore ye may not attain that high\nadventure of the Sancgreal.\n_Of the good counsel that the hermit gave to him._\nCertes, said Gawaine, soothly have ye said, that I see it openly. Now I\npray you, good man and holy father, tell me why we met not with so many\nadventures as we were wont to do, and commonly have the better. I shall\ntell you gladly, said the good man: The adventure of the Sancgreal,\nwhich ye and many other have undertaken the quest of it, and find it\nnot, the cause is, for it appeareth not to sinners. Wherefore marvel\nnot though ye fail thereof, and many other. For ye be an untrue knight,\nand a great murderer, and to good men signifieth other things than\nmurder. For I dare say, as sinful as Sir Launcelot hath been, sith that\nhe went into the quest of the Sancgreal he slew never man, nor nought\nshall till that he come unto Camelot again. For he hath taken upon him\nfor to forsake sin. And were not that he is not stable, but by his\nthought he is likely to turn again, he should be next to achieve it,\nsave Galahad his son. But God knoweth his thought, and his\nunstableness, and yet shall he die right an holy man; and no doubt he\nhath no fellow of no earthly sinful man. Sir, said Gawaine, it seemeth\nme by your words, that for our sins it will not avail us to travail in\nthis quest. Truly, said the good man, there be an hundred such as ye\nbe, that never shall prevail but to have shame. And when they had heard\nthese voices, they commanded him unto God.\nThen the good man called Gawaine, and said, It is long time passed sith\nthat ye were made knight, and never since thou servedst thy Maker, and\nnow thou art so old a tree, that in thee there is neither life nor\nfruit; wherefore bethink thee that thou yield unto our Lord the bare\nrind, sith the fiend hath the leaves and the fruit. Sir, said Gawaine,\nand I had leisure I would speak with you, but my fellow here, Sir\nEctor, is gone, and abideth me yonder beneath the hill. Well, said the\ngood man, thou were better to be counselled. Then departed Gawaine, and\ncame to Ector, and so took their horses, and rode till they came to a\nfoster\u2019s house which harboured them right well. And on the morn they\ndeparted from their host, and rode long or they could find any\nadventure.\n_How Sir Bors met with an hermit, and how he was confessed to him, and\n of his penance enjoined to him._\nWhen Bors was departed from Camelot, he met with a religious man riding\non an ass, and Sir Bors saluted him. Anon the good man knew him that he\nwas one of the knights errant that was in the quest of the Sancgreal.\nWhat are ye? said the good man. Sir, said he, I am a knight that fain\nwould be counselled in the quest of the Sancgreal: for he shall have\nmuch earthly worship that may bring it to an end. Certes, said the good\nman, that is sooth, for he shall be the best knight of the world, and\nthe fairest of all the fellowship. But wit you well, there shall none\nattain it but by cleanness, that is, pure confession. So rode they\ntogether till that they came to an hermitage. And there he prayed Bors\nto dwell all that night with him: and so he alight, and put away his\narmour, and prayed him that he might be confessed; and so they went\ninto the chapel, and there he was clean confessed: and they eat bread,\nand drank water, together. Now, said the good man, I pray thee that\nthou eat none other, till that thou sit at the table where the\nSancgreal shall be. Sir, said he, I agree me thereto; but how wit ye\nthat I shall sit there? Yes, said the good man, that know I, but there\nshall be but few of your fellows with you. All is welcome, said Sir\nBors, that God sendeth me. Also, said the good man, instead of a shirt,\nand in sign of chastisement, ye shall wear a garment; thereof I pray\nyou do off all your clothes and your shirt, and so he did. And then he\ntook him a scarlet coat, so that should be instead of his shirt, till\nhe had fulfilled the quest of the Sancgreal. And the good man found him\nin so marvellous a life, and so stable, that he marvelled, and felt\nthat he was never corrupt in fleshly lusts, but in one time that he\nbegat Elian le Blank. Then he armed him, and took his leave, and so\ndeparted. And so a little from thence he looked up into a tree, and\nthere he saw a passing great bird upon an old tree, and it was passing\ndry, without leaves, and the bird sat above, and had birds, the which\nwere dead for hunger. So smote he himself with his beak, the which was\ngreat and sharp. And so the great bird bled till that he died among his\nbirds. And the young birds took the life by the blood of the great\nbird. When Bors saw this, he wist well it was great tokening. For when\nhe saw the great bird arose not, then he took his horse and went his\nway. So by evensong, by adventure he came to a strong tower, and an\nhigh, and there was he lodged gladly.\n_How Sir Bors was lodged with a lady, and how he took on him for to\n fight against a champion for her land._\nAnd when he was unarmed, they led him into an high tower, where was a\nlady, young, lusty, and fair. And she received him with great joy, and\nmade him to sit down by her, and so was he set to sup with flesh and\nmany dainties. And when Sir Bors saw that, he bethought him on his\npenance, and bad a squire to bring him water. And so he brought him,\nand he made sops therein, and ate them. Ah, said the lady, I trow ye\nlike not my meat. Yes, truly, said Sir Bors, God thank you madam, but I\nmay eat none other meat this day. Then she spake no more as at that\ntime, for she was loth to displease him.\nThen after supper they spake of one thing and other. With that there\ncame a squire, and said, Madam, ye must purvey you to-morn for a\nchampion, for else your sister will have this castle, and also your\nlands, except ye can find a knight that will fight to-morn in your\nquarrel against Pridam le Noire. Then she made sorrow, and said, Ah\nLord God, wherefore granted ye to hold my land, whereof I should now be\ndisherited without reason and right. And when Sir Bors had heard her\nsay thus, he said, I shall comfort you. Sir, said she, I shall tell\nyou, there was here a king that hight Aniause, which held all this land\nin his keeping. So it mishapped he loved a gentlewoman, a great deal\nelder than I. So took he her all this land to her keeping, and all his\nmen to govern, and she brought up many evil customs, whereby she put to\ndeath a great part of his kinsmen. And when he saw that, he let chase\nher out of this land, and betook it me, and all this land in my charge:\nbut anon, as that worthy king was dead, this other lady began to war\nupon me, and hath destroyed many of my men, and turned them against me,\nthat I have well nigh no man left me, and I have nought else but this\nhigh tower that she left me. And yet she hath promised me to have this\ntower, without I can find a knight to fight with her champion. Now tell\nme, said Sir Bors, what is that Pridam le Noire? Sir, said she, he is\nthe most doubted man of this land.\u2014Now may ye send her word that ye\nhave found a knight that shall fight with that Pridam le Noire in God\u2019s\nquarrel and yours. Then that lady was not a little glad, and sent word\nthat she was provided. And that night Sir Bors had good cheer, but in\nno bed he would come, but laid him on the floor, nor never would do\notherwise till that he had met with the quest of Sancgreal.\n_Of a vision which Sir Bors had that night, and how he fought and\n overcame his adversary._\nAnd anon as he was asleep, him befell a vision, that there came to him\ntwo birds, the one as white as a swan, and the other was marvellous\nblack, but it was not so great as the other, but in the likeness of a\nraven. Then the white bird came to him, and said, And thou wouldst give\nme meat and serve me, I should give thee all the riches of the world,\nand I shall make thee as fair and as white as I am. So the white bird\ndeparted, and there came the black bird to him, and said, And thou wilt\nserve me to-morrow, and have me in no despite, though I be black, for\nwit thou well that more availeth my blackness, than the other\u2019s\nwhiteness. And then he departed. And he had another vision: him thought\nthat he came to a great place, which seemed a chapel, and there he\nfound a chair set on the left side, which was worm-eaten and feeble.\nAnd on the right hand were two flowers like a lily, and the one would\nhave taken the other\u2019s whiteness, but a good man parted them, that the\none touched not the other, and then out of every flower came out many\nflowers, and fruit great plenty. Then him thought the good man said,\nShould not he do great folly, that would let these two flowers perish\nfor to succour the rotten tree, that it fell not to the earth? Sir,\nsaid he, it seemeth me that this wood might not avail. Now keep thee,\nsaid the good man, that thou never see such adventure befall thee. Then\nhe awaked and made a sign of the cross in the midst of the forehead,\nand so rose and clothed him, and there came the lady of the place, and\nshe saluted him, and he her again, and so went to a chapel, and heard\ntheir service. And there came a company of knights that the lady had\nsent for, to lead Sir Bors unto battle. Then asked he his arms. And\nwhen he was armed, she prayed him to take a little morsel to dine. Nay,\nmadam, said he, that shall I not do, till I have done my battle, by the\ngrace of God. And so he lept upon his horse, and departed all the\nknights and men with him. And as soon as these two ladies met together,\nshe which Bors should fight for, complained her, and said, Madam, ye\nhave done me wrong to bereave me of my lands that king Aniause gave me,\nand full loth I am there should be any battle. Ye shall not choose,\nsaid the other lady, or else your knight withdraw him. Then there was\nthe cry made, which party had the better of those two knights, that\nthis lady should enjoy all the land. Now departed the one knight here,\nand the other there. Then they came together with such force that they\npierced their shields and their hauberks, and the spears flew in\npieces, and they wounded either other sore. Then hurtled they together\nso that they fell both to the earth, and their horses betwixt their\nlegs. And anon they arose, and set hands to their swords, and smote\neach one other upon the heads, that they made great wounds and deep,\nthat the blood went out of their bodies. For there found Sir Bors\ngreater defence in that knight more than he wend. For that Pridam was a\npassing good knight, and he wounded Sir Bors full evil, and he him\nagain. But ever this Sir Pridam held the stour in like hard. That\nperceived Sir Bors, and suffered him till he was nigh attaint, and then\nhe ran upon him more and more, and the other went back for dread of\ndeath. So in his withdrawing he fell upright, and Sir Bors drew his\nhelm so strongly that he rent it from his head, and gave him great\nstrokes with the flat of his sword upon the visage, and bade him yield\nhim, or he should slay him. Then he cried him mercy, and said, Fair\nknight, for God\u2019s love slay me not, and I shall ensure thee never to\nwar against thy lady, but be alway toward her. Then Bors let him be.\nThen the old lady fled with all her knights.\n_How the lady was restored to her lands by the battle of Sir Bors, and\n of his departing, and how he met Sir Lionel taken and beaten with\n thorns, and also of a maid which should have been dishonoured._\nSo then came Bors to all those that held lands of his lady, and said he\nshould destroy them but if they did such service unto her as belonged\nto their lands. So they did their homage, and they that would not were\nchased out of their lands. Then befell that young lady to come to her\nestate again, by the mighty prowess of Sir Bors de Ganis. So when all\nthe country was well set in peace, then Sir Bors took his leave and\ndeparted, and she thanked him greatly, and would have given him great\nriches, but he refused it. Then he rode all that day till night, and\ncame to an harbour, to a lady which knew him well enough, and made of\nhim great joy. Upon the morn, as soon as the day appeared, Bors\ndeparted from thence, and so rode into a forest unto the hour of\nmid-day, and there befell him a marvellous adventure. So he met at the\ndeparting of the two ways two knights, that led Lionel his brother all\nnaked, bounden upon a strong hackney, and his hands bounden tofore his\nbreast: and every each of them held in his hand thorns, wherewith they\nwent beating him so sore that the blood trailed down more than in an\nhundred places of his body, so that he was all blood tofore and behind,\nbut he said never a word, as he which was great of heart; he suffered\nall that ever they did to him as though he had felt none anguish. Anon\nSir Bors dressed him to rescue him that was his brother: and so he\nlooked upon the other side of him, and saw a knight which brought a\nfair gentlewoman, and would have set her in the thickest place of the\nforest, for to have been the more surer out of the way from them that\nsought him. And she, which was nothing assured, cried with an high\nvoice, Saint Mary, succour your maid!\nAnd anon she espied where Sir Bors came riding. And when she came nigh\nhim, she deemed him a knight of the Round Table, whereof she hoped to\nhave some comfort; and then she conjured him, by the faith that he owed\nunto Him in whose service thou art entered in, and for the faith ye owe\nunto the high order of knighthood, and for the noble king Arthur\u2019s\nsake, that I suppose that made thee knight, that thou help me, and\nsuffer me not to be shamed of this knight!\nWhen Bors heard her say thus, he had so much sorrow there he nist not\nwhat to do. For if I let my brother be in adventure he must be slain,\nand that would I not for all the earth. And if I help not the maid, she\nis shamed for ever, and also she shall lose her honour, the which she\nshall never get again. Then lift he up his eyes, and said weeping, Fair\nsweet Lord Jesu Christ, whose liege man I am, keep Lionel my brother,\nthat these knights slay him not; and for pity of you, and for Mary\u2019s\nsake, I shall succour this maid.\n_How Sir Bors left to rescue his brother, and rescued the damsel; and\n how it was told him that Lionel was dead._\nThen dressed he him unto the knight the which had the gentlewoman, and\nthen he cried, Sir knight, let your hand off that maiden, or ye be but\ndead. And then he set down the maiden and was armed at all pieces, save\nhe lacked his spear. Then he dressed his shield, and drew out his\nsword, and Bors smote him so hard that it went through his shield and\nhaberjon on the left shoulder; and through great strength he beat him\ndown to the earth; and at the pulling out of Bors\u2019 spear there he\nswooned.\nThen came Bors to the maid, and said, How seemeth it you? Of this\nknight ye be delivered at this time. Now Sir, said she, I pray you lead\nme there as this knight had me.\u2014So shall I do gladly: and took the\nhorse of the wounded knight, and set the gentlewoman upon him, and so\nbrought her as she desired. Sir knight, said she, ye have better sped\nthan ye weened, for if ye had not saved me five hundred men should have\ndied for it.\u2014What knight was he that had you in the forest?\u2014By my\nfaith, said she, he is my cousin. So wot I never with what craft the\nfiend enchafed him, for yesterday he took me from my father privily;\nfor I nor none of my father\u2019s men mistrusted him not. And if he had\nshamed me, he should have died for the sin, and his body shamed and\ndishonoured for ever. Thus as she stood talking with him, there came\ntwelve knights seeking after her, and anon she told them all how Bors\nhad delivered her; then they made great joy, and besought him to come\nto her father, a great lord, and he should be right welcome. Truly,\nsaid Bors, that may not be at this time, for I have a great adventure\nto do in this country. So he commended them unto God, and departed.\nThen Sir Bors rode after Lionel his brother by the trace of their\nhorses. Thus he rode seeking a great while. Then he overtook a man\nclothed in a religious clothing, and rode on a strong black horse,\nblacker than a bery, and said, Sir knight, what seek you? Sir, said he,\nI seek my brother, that I saw within a while beaten with two knights.\nAh Bors, discomfort you not, nor fall into no vain hope, for I shall\ntell you tidings such as they be; for truly he is dead. Then shewed he\nhim a new slain body, lying in a bush, and it seemed him well that it\nwas the body of Lionel. And then he made such a sorrow that he fell to\nthe earth all in a swoon, and lay a great while there. And when he came\nto himself he said, Fair brother, sith the company of you and me is\nparted, shall I never have joy in my heart; and now He which I have\ntaken unto my Master, He be my help. And when he had said thus, he took\nhis body lightly in his arms, and put it upon the bow of his saddle.\nAnd then he said to the man, Canst thou tell me unto some chapel, where\nthat I may bury this body? Come on, said he, here is one fast by. And\nso long they rode till they saw a fair tower, and afore it there seemed\nan old feeble chapel. And then they alight both, and put him into a\ntomb of marble.\n_How Sir Bors told his dream to a priest which he had dreamed, and of\n the counsel that the priest gave to him._\nNow leave we him here, said the good man, and go we to harbour till\nto-morrow, we will come here again to do him service. Sir, said Bors,\nbe ye a priest? Yea, forsooth, said he.\u2014Then I pray you tell me a\ndream that befell to me the last night.\u2014Say on, said he. Then he began\nso much to tell him of the great bird in the forest: and after told him\nof his birds, one white, another black; and of the rotten tree, and of\nthe white flowers. Sir, said the priest, I shall tell you a part now,\nand the other deal to-morrow. The white fowl betokeneth a gentlewoman,\nfair and rich, which loveth thee, and hath loved thee long; and if thou\nrefuse her love, she shall go die anon, if thou have no pity on her.\nThat signifieth the great bird, the which shall make thee for to refuse\nher. Now, for no fear nor for no dread that thou hast of God, thou\nshalt not refuse her, but thou wouldest not do it for to be holden\nchaste, for to conquer the praise of the vain-glory of the world; for\nthat shall befall thee now, and thou refuse her, that Launcelot, the\ngood knight thy cousin, shall die. And therefore men shall now say that\nthou art a manslayer, both of thy brother Sir Lionel, and of thy cousin\nSir Launcelot du Lake, the which thou mightest have saved and rescued\nfull easily. But thou weenedst to rescue a maid, which pertained\nnothing to thee. Now look thou whether it had been greater harm of thy\nbrother\u2019s death, or else to have suffered her for to have lost her\nhonour. Then asked he him, Hast thou heard the tokens of thy dream, the\nwhich I have told to you? Yea forsooth, said Sir Bors, all your\nexposition and declaring of my dream I have well understood and heard.\nThen said the man in this black clothing, Then is it in thy default if\nSir Launcelot thy cousin die. Sir, said Bors, that were me loth; for\nwit ye well there is nothing in the world but I had lever do it than to\nsee my lord Sir Launcelot du Lake to die in my default. Choose ye now\nthe one or the other, said the good man. And then he led Sir Bors into\nan high tower, and there he found knights and ladies. Those ladies said\nhe was welcome, and so they unarmed him. And when he was in his\ndoublet, men brought him a mantle furred with ermine, and put it about\nhim, and then they made him such cheer that he had forgotten all his\nsorrow and anguish, and only set his heart in these delights and\ndainties, and took no more thought for his brother Sir Lionel, neither\nof Sir Launcelot du Lake his cousin. And anon came out of a chamber to\nhim the fairest lady that ever he saw, and more richer beseen than ever\nhe saw queen Guenever, or any other estate. Lo! said they, Sir Bors,\nhere is the lady unto whom we all owe our service, and I trow she be\nthe richest lady, and the fairest of all the world, and the which\nloveth you best above all other knights, for she will have no knight\nbut you. And when he understood that language, he was abashed. Not for\nthen she saluted him, and he her; and then they sat down together, and\nspake of many things, insomuch that she besought him to be her love,\nfor she had loved him above all earthly men, and she should make him\nricher than ever was man of his age. When Sir Bors understood her words\nhe was right evil at ease, which in no manner would not break chastity,\nso wist not he how to answer her.\n_How the devil in a woman\u2019s likeness would have tempted Sir Bors, and\n how by God\u2019s grace he escaped._\nAlas! said she, Bors, shall ye not do my will? Madam, said Sir Bors,\nthere is no lady in this world whose will I will fulfil as of this\nthing, for my brother lieth dead which was slain right late. Ah, Bors,\nsaid she, I have loved you long for the great beauty I have seen in\nyou, and great hardiness I have heard of you, that needs ye must give\nme your love, and, therefore, I pray you grant it me. Truly, said he, I\nshall not do it in no manner of wise. Then she made him such sorrow as\nthough she would have died. Well, Bors, said she, unto this have ye\nbrought me nigh to mine end. And therewith she took him by the hand,\nand bade him behold her,\u2014And ye shall see how I shall die for your\nlove. Ah, said then he, that shall I never see. Then she departed, and\nwent up into a high battlement, and led with her twelve gentlewomen:\nand when they were above, one of the gentlewomen cried and said, Ah,\nSir Bors, gentle knight, have mercy on us all, and suffer my lady to\nhave her will: and if ye do not, we must suffer death with our lady,\nfor to fall down off this high tower. And if ye suffer us thus to die\nfor so little a thing, all ladies and gentlewomen will say of you\ndishonour. Then looked he upward: they seemed all ladies of great\nestate and richly and well beseen. Then had he of them great pity: not\nfor that he was un-counselled within himself, that lever he had they\nall had lost their souls than he is: and with that they fell adown all\nat once unto the earth. And when he saw that, he was all abashed, and\nhad thereof great marvel. With that he blessed his body and his visage;\nand anon he heard a great noise and a great cry, as though all the\nfiends of hell had been about him, and therewith he saw neither tower,\nne lady, ne gentlewoman, nor no chapel where he brought his brother to.\nThen held he up both his hands to the heaven, and said, Fair Father\nGod, I am grievously escaped. And then he took his arms and his horse,\nand rode on his way. Then he heard a clock smite on his right hand, and\nthither he came to an abbey on his right hand, closed with high walls,\nand there was let in. Then they supposed that he was one of the quest\nof the Sancgreal. So they led him into a chamber, and unarmed him.\nSirs, said Sir Bors, if there be any holy man in this house, I pray you\nlet me speak with him. Then one of them led him unto the abbot, which\nwas in a chapel. And then Sir Bors saluted him, and he him again. Sir,\nsaid Bors, I am a knight errant, and told him all the adventure which\nhe had seen. Sir knight, said the abbot, I wot not what ye be, for I\nwend never that a knight of your age might have been so strong in the\ngrace of our Lord Jesu Christ. Not for then ye shall go unto your rest,\nfor I will not counsel you this day, it is too late, and to-morrow I\nshall counsel you as I can.\n_Of the holy communication of an abbot to Sir Bors, and how the abbot\n counselled him._\nAnd that night was Sir Bors served richly, and on the morn early he\nheard mass, and the abbot came to him and bad him good morrow, and Bors\nto him again. And then he told him he was a fellow of the quest of the\nSancgreal, and how he had charge of the holy man to eat bread and\nwater. Then [said the abbot] our Lord Jesu Christ shewed Him unto you,\nin the likeness of a soul that suffered great anguish for us since He\nwas put upon the cross, and bled His heart blood for mankind: there was\nthe token and the likeness of the Sancgreal that appeared afore you,\nfor the blood that the great fowl bled revived the chickens from death\nto life. And by the bare tree is betokened the world, which is naked\nand without fruit, but if it come of our Lord. Also the lady for whom\nye fought for, and king Aniause, which was lord there tofore,\nbetokeneth Jesu Christ, which is the King of the world; and that ye\nfought with the champion for the lady, this it betokeneth: for when ye\ntook the battle for the lady, by her ye shall understand the new law of\nJesu Christ and holy Church; and by the other lady ye shall understand\nthe old law and the fiend, which all day warreth against holy Church,\ntherefore ye did your battle with right. For ye be Jesu Christ\u2019s\nknights, therefore ye ought to be defenders of holy Church. And by the\nblack bird might ye understand the holy Church, which saith I am black,\nbut he is fair. And by the white bird might men understand the fiend.\nAnd I shall tell you how the swan is white without forth, and black\nwithin; it is hypocrisy which is without yellow or pale, and seemeth\nwithout forth the servants of Jesu Christ, but they be within so\nhorrible of filth and sin, and beguile the world evil. Also when the\nfiend appeared to thee in likeness of a man of religion, and blamed\nthee that thou left thy brother for a lady, so led thee where thou\nseemed thy brother was slain, but he is yet on live, and all was for to\nput thee in error, and bring thee unto vain hope and lechery, for he\nknew thou were tender hearted, and all was for thou shouldest not find\nthe blessed adventure of the Sancgreal. And the third fowl betokeneth\nthe strong battle against the fair ladies which were all devils. Also\nthe dry tree, and the white lily:\u2014the dry tree betokeneth thy brother\nSir Lionel, which is dry without virtue, and therefore many men ought\nto call him the rotten tree, and the worm-eaten tree, for he is a\nmurderer and doth contrary to the order of knighthood. And the two\nwhite flowers signify two maidens, the one is a knight which was\nwounded the other day, and the other is the gentlewoman which ye\nrescued; and why the other flower drew nigh the other, that was the\nknight which would have dishonoured her, and himself both. And, Sir\nBors, ye had been a great fool, and in great peril, to have seen those\ntwo flowers perish for to succour the rotten tree, for and they had\nsinned together they had been damned: and for that ye rescued them\nboth, men might call you a very knight and servant of Jesu Christ.\n_How Sir Bors met with his brother Sir Lionel, and how Sir Lionel would\n have slain Sir Bors._\nThen went Sir Bors from thence, and commended the abbot unto God. And\nthen he rode all that day, and harboured with an old lady. And on the\nmorn he rode to a castle in a valley, and there he met with a yeoman\ngoing a great pace toward a forest. Say me, said Sir Bors, canst thou\ntell me of any adventure? Sir, said he, here shall be under this castle\na great and a marvellous tournament. Of what folks shall it be? said\nSir Bors. The earl of Plains (said he) shall be on the one party, and\nthe lady\u2019s nephew of Hervin on the other party. Then Bors thought to be\nthere, if he might meet with his brother Sir Lionel, or any other of\nhis fellowship which were in the quest of the Sancgreal. And then he\nturned to an hermitage that was in the entry of the forest. And when he\nwas come thither, he found there Sir Lionel his brother, which sat all\narmed at the entry of the chapel door, for to abide there harbour till\non the morn that the tournament shall be. And when Sir Bors saw him he\nhad great joy of him, that was it marvel to tell of his joy. And then\nhe alight off his horse and said, Fair sweet brother, when came ye\nhither? Anon as Sir Lionel saw him he said, Ah Bors, ye may not make\nnone avaunt, but, as for you, I might have been slain; when ye saw two\nknights leading me away, beating me, ye left me to succour a\ngentlewoman, and suffered me in peril of death: for never erst ne did\nno brother to another so great an untruth. And for that misdeed now I\nensure you but death, for well have ye deserved it; therefore keep thee\nfrom henceforward, and that shall ye find as soon as I am armed. When\nSir Bors understood his brother\u2019s wrath, he kneeled down to the earth,\nand cried him mercy, holding up both his hands, and prayed him to\nforgive him his evil will. Nay, said Lionel, that shall never be, and I\nmay have the higher hand, that I make mine avow to God: thou shalt have\ndeath for it, for it were pity ye lived any longer. Right so he went\nin, and took his harness, and mounted upon his horse, and came tofore\nhim and said, Bors, keep thee from me, for I shall do to thee as I\nwould to a felon or a traitor, for ye be the untruest knight that ever\ncame out of so worthy an house as was king Bors de Ganis, which was our\nfather; therefore start upon thy horse, and so shall ye be most at your\nadvantage. And but if ye will, I will run upon thee there as ye stand\nupon foot, and so the shame shall be mine and the harm yours; but of\nthat shame reck I nought. When Sir Bors saw that he must fight with his\nbrother or else to die, he nist not what to do. Then his heart\ncounselled him not thereto, in as much as Lionel was born or he,\nwherefore he ought to bear him reverence; yet kneeled he down afore\nLionel\u2019s horse feet, and said, Fair sweet brother, have mercy upon me\nand slay me not, and have in remembrance the great love which ought to\nbe between us twain. What Sir Bors said to Lionel he recked not, for\nthe fiend had brought him in such a will that he should slay him. Then\nwhen Lionel saw he would none other, and that he would not have risen\nto give him battle, he rushed over him, so that he smote Bors with his\nhorse feet upward to the earth, and hurt him so sore that he swooned of\ndistress, the which he felt in himself to have died without confession.\nSo when Lionel saw this, he alight off his horse, to have smitten off\nhis head. And so he took him by the helm, and would have rent it from\nhis head. Then came the hermit running unto him, which was a good man\nand of great age, and well had he heard all the words that were between\nthem, and so fell down upon Sir Bors.\n_How Sir Colgrevance fought against Sir Lionel for to save Sir Bors,\n and how the hermit was slain._\nThen he said to Lionel, Ah, gentle knight, have mercy upon me and on\nthy brother, for if thou slay him thou shalt be dead of sin, and that\nwere sorrowful; for he is one of the worthiest knights of the world,\nand of the best conditions. So God me help, said Lionel, Sir priest,\nbut if ye flee from him I shall slay you, and he shall never the sooner\nbe quit. Certes, said the good man, I had lever ye slay me than him,\nfor my death shall not be great harm, not half so much as of his. Well,\nsaid Lionel, I am agreed; and set his hand to his sword, and smote him\nso hard that his head went backward. Not for that he restrained him of\nhis evil will, but took his brother by the helm, and unlaced it to have\nstricken off his head, and had slain him without fail, but so it\nhapped, Colgrevance, a fellow of the Round Table, came at that time\nthither, as our Lord\u2019s will was. And when he saw the good man slain, he\nmarvelled much what it might be. And then he beheld Lionel would have\nslain his brother, and knew Sir Bors which he loved right well. Then\nstart he down and took Lionel by the shoulders, and drew him strongly\naback from Bors, and said, Lionel, will ye slay your brother, the\nworthiest knight of the world one? and that should no good man suffer.\nWhy, said Sir Lionel, will ye let me? therefore if ye intermit you in\nthis, I shall slay you, and him after. Why, said Colgrevance, is this\nsooth, that ye will slay him? Slay him will I, said he, who so say the\ncontrary; for he hath done so much against me that he hath well\ndeserved it; and so ran upon him, and would have smitten him through\nthe head; and Sir Colgrevance ran betwixt them and said, And ye be so\nhardy to do so mote, we two shall meddle together. When Lionel\nunderstood his words, he took his shield afore him, and asked him what\nhe was; and he told him Colgrevance, one of his fellows. Then Lionel\ndefied him, and gave him a great stroke through the helm. Then he drew\nhis sword, for he was a passing good knight, and defended him right\nmanfully. So long endured the battle that Sir Bors rose up all\nanguishly, and beheld Sir Colgrevance, the good knight, fight with his\nbrother for his quarrel. Then was he full sorry and heavy, and thought,\nif Colgrevance slew him that was his brother he should never have joy,\nand if his brother slew Colgrevance the shame should ever be his. Then\nwould he have risen to have departed them but he had not so much might\nto stand on foot: so he abode him so long till Colgrevance had the\nworse, for Sir Lionel was of great chivalry and right hardy, for he had\npierced the hauberk and the helm, that he abode but death. For he had\nlost much of his blood, that it was marvel that he might stand upright.\nThen beheld he Sir Bors, which sat dressing him upward, and said, Ah\nBors, why come ye not to cast me out of peril of death, wherein I have\nput me to succour you, which were right now nigh the death? Certes,\nsaid Lionel, that shall not avail you, for none of you shall bear\nother\u2019s warrant, but that ye shall die both of my hand. When Bors heard\nthat, he did so much he rose and put on his helm. Then perceived he\nfirst the hermit priest which was slain, then made he a marvellous\nsorrow upon him.\n_How Sir Lionel slew Sir Colgrevance, and how after he would have slain\n Sir Bors._\nThen oft Colgrevance cried upon Sir Bors, Why will ye let me die here\nfor your sake? if it please you that I die for you the death, it will\nplease me the better for to save a worthy man. With that word Sir\nLionel smote off the helm from his head. Then Colgrevance saw that he\nmight not escape; then he said, Fair sweet Jesu, that I have misdone\nhave mercy upon my soul; for such sorrow that my heart suffereth for\ngoodness, and for alms deed that I would have done here, be to me\naligement of penance unto my soul\u2019s health. At these words Lionel smote\nhim so sore that he bare him to the earth. So when he had slain\nColgrevance, he ran upon his brother as a fiendly man, and gave him\nsuch a stroke that he made him stoop; and he, that was full of\nhumility, prayed him, for God\u2019s love to leave this battle: For and it\nbefell, fair brother, that I slew you, or ye me, we should be dead of\nthat sin. Never God me help but if I have on you mercy, and I may have\nthe better hand. Then drew Bors his sword, all weeping, and said, Fair\nbrother, God knoweth mine intent. Ah, fair brother, ye have done full\nevil this day to slay such an holy priest, the which never trespassed.\nAlso ye have slain a gentle knight, and one of our fellows. And well\nwot ye that I am not afeard of you greatly, but I dread the wrath of\nGod; and this is an unkindly war, therefore God shew miracle upon us\nboth. Now God have mercy upon me, though I defend my life against my\nbrother. With that Bors lift up his hand, and would have smitten his\nbrother.\n_How there came a voice which charged Sir Bors to touch not him, and of\n a cloud that came between them._\nAnd then he heard a voice that said, Flee, Bors, and touch him not, or\nelse thou shalt slay him. Right so alight a cloud betwixt them in\nlikeness of a fire, and a marvellous flame, that both their two shields\nburnt. Then were they sore afraid, that they fell both to the earth,\nand lay there a great while in a swoon. And when they came to\nthemselves, Bors saw that his brother had no harm: then he held up both\nhis hands, for he dread God had taken vengeance upon him. With that he\nheard a voice say, Bors, go hence and bear thy brother no longer\nfellowship, but take thy way anon right to the sea, for Sir Percivale\nabideth thee there. Then he said to his brother, Fair sweet brother,\nforgive me, for God\u2019s love, all that I have trespassed unto you. Then\nhe answered, God forgive it thee, and I do gladly. So Sir Bors departed\nfrom him, and rode the next way to the sea. And at the last, by fortune\nhe came to an abbey which was nigh the sea. That night Bors rested him\nthere, and in his sleep there came a voice to him, and bad him go to\nthe sea; then he start up, and made a sign of the cross in the midst of\nhis forehead, and took his harness, and made ready his horse, and\nmounted upon him. And at a broken wall he rode out, and rode so long\ntill that he came to the sea. And on the strand he found a ship covered\nall with white samite. And he alight, and betook him to Jesu Christ.\nAnd as soon as he entered into the ship, the ship departed into the\nsea, and went so fast that him seemed the ship went flying, but it was\nsoon dark, so that he might know no man, and so he slept till it was\nday. Then he awaked, and saw in the midst of the ship a knight lie, all\narmed save his helm. Then knew he that it was Sir Percivale of Wales,\nand then he made of him right great joy. But Sir Percivale was abashed\nof him, and he asked him what he was. Ah, fair sir, said Bors, know ye\nme not? Certes, said he, I marvel how ye came hither, but if our Lord\nbrought you hither himself: then Sir Bors smiled, and did off his helm.\nThen Percivale knew him, and either made great joy of other, that it\nwas marvel to hear. Then Bors told him how he came into the ship, and\nby whose admonishment. And either told other of their temptations, as\nye have heard toforehand. So went they downward in the sea, one while\nbackward another while forward, and every each comforted other, and oft\nwere in their prayers. Then said Sir Percivale, We lack nothing but\nGalahad the good knight.\n And thus endeth the syxteenth book whiche is of syre Gawayne, Ector de\n marys, and syre Bors de ganys and sir percyual.\n And here foloweth the seuententh book which is of the noble knyghte\n_How Sir Galahad fought at a tournament, and how he was known of Sir\n Gawaine and Sir Ector de Maris._\nNow saith this story, when Galahad had rescued Percivale from the\ntwenty knights, he rode then into a vast forest, wherein he rode many\njourneys, and he found many adventures, the which he brought to an end,\nwhereof the story maketh here no mention. Then he took his way to the\nsea on a day, and it befell as he passed by a castle where was a wonder\ntournament, but they without had done so much that they within were put\nto the worse, yet were they within good knights enough. When Galahad\nsaw that those within were at so great a mischief that men slew them at\nthe entry of the castle, then he thought to help them, and put a spear\nforth, and smote the first that he fell to the earth, and the spear\nbrake to pieces. Then he drew his sword, and smote there as they were\nthickest, and so he did wonderful deeds of arms, that all they\nmarvelled. Then it happed that Gawaine and Sir Ector de Maris were with\nthe knights without; but when they espied the white shield with the red\ncross, the one said to the other, Yonder is the good knight Sir Galahad\nthe haut prince: now he should be a great fool which should meet with\nhim to fight. So by adventure he came by Sir Gawaine, and he smote him\nso hard that he clave his helm, and the coif of iron unto his head, so\nthat Gawaine fell to the earth: but the stroke was so great, that it\nslanted down to the earth, and carved the horse shoulder in two. When\nEctor saw Gawaine down, he drew him aside, and thought it no wisdom for\nto abide him, and also for natural love, that he was his uncle. Thus\nthrough his great hardiness he beat aback all the knights without. And\nthen they within came out and chased them all about. But when Galahad\nsaw there would none turn again, he stole away privily, so that none\nwist where he was become. Now by my head, said Gawaine to Ector, now\nare the wonders true that were said of Launcelot du Lake, that the\nsword which stuck in the stone should give me such a buffet that I\nwould not have it for the best castle in this world, and soothly now it\nis proved true, for never before had I such a stroke of man\u2019s hand.\nSir, said Ector, me seemeth your quest is done. And yours is not done,\nsaid Gawaine, but mine is done; I shall seek no further. Then Gawaine\nwas borne into a castle, and unarmed him, and laid him in a rich bed,\nand a leech found that he might live, and to be whole within a month.\nThus Gawaine and Ector abode together. For Sir Ector would not away\ntill Gawaine were whole. And the good knight Galahad rode so long till\nhe came that night to the castle of Carboneck; and it befell him thus\nthat he was benighted in an hermitage. So the good man was fain when he\nsaw he was a knight errant. Then when they were at rest, there came a\ngentlewoman knocking at the door, and called Galahad, and so the good\nman came to the door to wit what she would. Then she called the hermit,\nSir Ulfin, I am a gentlewoman that would speak with the knight that is\nwith you. Then the good man awaked Galahad, and bad him arise, and\nspeak with a gentlewoman that seemeth hath great need of you. Then\nGalahad went to her, and asked her what she would. Galahad, said she, I\nwill that ye arm you, and mount upon your horse, and follow me, for I\nshall shew you within these three days the highest adventure that ever\nany knight saw. Anon Galahad armed him, and took his horse and\ncommended him to God, and bad the gentlewoman go, and he would follow\nthere as she liked.\n_How Sir Galahad rode with a damsel, and came to the ship whereas Sir\n Bors and Sir Percivale were in._\nSo she rode as fast as her palfrey might bear her, till that she came\nto the sea the which was called Collibe. And at the night they came\nunto a castle in a valley, was closed with a running water, and with\nstrong walls and high. And so she entered into the castle with Galahad,\nand there had he great cheer, for the lady of that castle was the\ndamsel\u2019s lady. So when he was unarmed, then said the damsel, Madam,\nshall we abide here all this day? Nay, said she, but till he hath\ndined, and till he hath slept a little. So he eat and slept a while,\ntill that the maid called him, and armed him by torchlight. And when\nthe maid was horsed, and he both, the lady took Galahad a fair child\nand rich, and so they departed from the castle, till they came to the\nsea-side, and there they found the ship where Bors and Percivale were\nin, the which cried on the ship\u2019s board, Sir Galahad, ye be welcome, we\nhave abiden you long. And when he heard them, he asked them what they\nwere. Sir, said she, leave your horse here, and I shall leave mine; and\ntook their saddles and their bridles with them, and made a cross on\nthem, and so entered into the ship. And the two knights received them\nboth with great joy, and every each knew other. And so the wind arose,\nand drove them through the sea in a marvellous place. And within a\nwhile it dawned. Then did Galahad off his helm and his sword, and asked\nof his fellows from whence came that fair ship. Truly, said they, ye\nwot as well as we, but of God\u2019s grace. And then they told every each to\nother of all their hard adventures, and of their great temptation.\nTruly, said Galahad, ye are much bounden to God, for ye have escaped\ngreat adventures: and had not the gentlewoman been I had not come here;\nfor as for you, I wend never to have found you in these strange\ncountries. Ah, Galahad, said Bors, if Launcelot your father were here\nthen were we well at ease, for then me seemeth we failed nothing. That\nmay not be, said Galahad, but if it please our Lord. By then the ship\nwent from the land of Logris, and by adventure it arrived up betwixt\ntwo rocks passing great and marvellous, but there they might not land,\nfor there was a swallow of the sea, save there was another ship, and\nupon it they might go without danger. Go we thither, said the\ngentlewoman, and there shall we see adventures, for so is our Lord\u2019s\nwill. And when they came thither, they found the ship rich enough, but\nthey found neither man nor woman therein. But they found in the end of\nthe ship two fair letters written, which said a dreadful word and a\nmarvellous:\u2014Thou man which shall enter into this ship, beware thou be\nin steadfast belief, for I am Faith; and therefore beware how thou\nenterest, for and thou fail I shall not help thee. Then said the\ngentlewoman, Percivale, wot ye what I am? Certes, said he, nay, to my\nwitting. Wit you well, said she, that I am thy sister, which am\ndaughter of king Pellinore. And therefore wit ye well ye are the man in\nthe world that I most love. And if ye be not in perfect belief of Jesu\nChrist, enter not in no manner of wise, for then should ye perish in\nthe ship, for he is so perfect he will suffer no sin in him. When\nPercivale understood that she was his very sister, he was inwardly\nglad, and said, Fair sister, I shall enter therein, for if I be a\nmis-creature, or an untrue knight, there shall I perish.\n_How Sir Galahad entered into the ship, and of a fair bed therein, with\n other marvellous things, and of a sword._\nIn the mean while Galahad blessed him and entered therein, and then\nnext the gentlewoman, and then Sir Bors and Sir Percivale. And when\nthey were therein, it was so marvellous fair and rich that they\nmarvelled. And in the midst of the ship was a fair bed, and Sir Galahad\nwent thereto, and found there a crown of silk. And at the feet was a\nsword rich and fair, and it was drawn out of the sheath half a foot and\nmore, and the sword was of divers fashions, and the pommel was of\nstone, and there was in him all manner of colours that any man might\nfind, and every each of the colours had divers virtues, and the scales\nof the haft were of two ribs of divers beasts. The one beast was a\nserpent, which was conversant in Calidone, and is called the serpent of\nthe fiend. And the bone of him is of such a virtue, that there is no\nhand that handleth him shall never be weary nor hurt: and the other\nbeast is a fish, which is not right great, and haunteth the flood of\nEufrates; and that fish is called Ertanax, and his bones be of such a\nmanner of kind, that who that handleth them shall have so much will\nthat he shall never be weary, and he shall not think on joy nor sorrow\nthat he hath had, but only that thing that he beholdeth before him. And\nas for this sword there shall never man begripe it at the handle but\none, but he shall pass all other. In the name of God, said Percivale, I\nshall essay to handle it. So he set his hand to the sword, but he might\nnot begripe it. By my faith, said he, now have I failed. Bors set his\nhand thereto and failed. Then Galahad beheld the sword, and saw the\nletters like blood, that said, Let see who shall assay to draw me out\nof my sheath, but if he be more hardier than other, and who that\ndraweth me, wit ye well that he shall never fail of shame of his body,\nor to be wounded to the death. By my faith, said Galahad, I would draw\nthis sword out of the sheath, but the offending is so great, that I\nshall not set my hand thereto. Now sir, said the gentlewoman, wit ye\nwell that the drawing of this sword is forbidden to all men, save all\nonly unto you. Also this ship arrived in the realm of Logris, and that\ntime was deadly war between king Labor, which was father unto the\nmaimed king, and king Hurlame, which was a Saracen. But then was he\nnewly christened, so that men held him afterwards one of the wittiest\nmen of the world. And so upon a day it befell that king Labor and king\nHurlame had assembled their folk upon the sea, where this ship was\narrived, and there king Hurlame was discomfit, and his men slain, and\nhe was afeard to be dead, and fled to his ship, and there found this\nsword, and drew it, and came out and found king Labor, the man in the\nworld of all Christendom in whom was then the greatest faith. And when\nking Hurlame saw king Labor, he dressed this sword, and smote him upon\nthe helm so hard, that he clave him and his horse to the earth with the\nfirst stroke of his sword. And it was in the realm of Logris; and so\nbefell great pestilence and great harm to both realms. For sithen\nincreased neither corn nor grass, nor well nigh no fruit, nor in the\nwater was no fish, wherefore men call it the lands of the two marches,\nthe waste land, for that dolorous stroke. And when king Hurlame saw\nthis sword so carving, he turned again to fetch the scabbard: and so\ncame into this ship, and entered, and put up the sword in the sheath.\nAnd as soon as he had done it, he fell down dead afore the bed. Thus\nwas the sword proved, that none ne drew it but he were dead or maimed.\nSo lay he there till a maiden came into the ship, and cast him out, for\nthere was no man so hardy of the world to enter into that ship for the\ndefence.\n_Of the marvels of the sword and of the scabbard._\nAnd then beheld they the scabbard; it seemed to be of a serpent\u2019s skin.\nAnd thereon were letters of gold and silver. And the girdle was but\npoorly to come to, and not able to sustain such a rich sword, and the\nletters said: He which shall wield me, ought to be more harder than any\nother, if he bear me as truly as I ought to be borne. For the body of\nhim which I ought to hang by, he shall not be shamed in no place while\nhe is gird with this girdle, nor never none be so hardy to do away this\ngirdle for it ought not to be done away, but by the hands of a maid,\nand that she be a king\u2019s daughter, and queen\u2019s, and she must be a maid\nall the days of her life, both in will and in deed; and if she break\nher virginity, she shall die the most villainous death that ever did\nany woman. Sir, said Percivale, turn this sword, that we may see what\nis on the other side. And it was red as blood, with black letters as\nany coal, which said, He that shall praise me most, most shall he find\nme to blame at a great need, and to whom I should be most debonair\nshall I be most felon, and that shall be at one time. Fair brother,\nsaid she to Percivale, it befell about a forty year after the passion\nof Jesu Christ, that Nacien, the brother-in-law of king Mordrains, was\nborne into a town more than fourteen days\u2019 journey from his country, by\nthe commandment of our Lord, into an isle, into the parts of the west,\nthat men call the Isle of Turnance. So befell it that he found this\nship at the entry of a rock, and he found the bed, and this sword, as\nwe have heard now. Not for then he had not so much hardiness to draw\nit: and there he dwelled an eight days, and at the ninth day there fell\na great wind which departed him out of the isle, and brought him to\nanother isle by a rock, and there he found the greatest giant that ever\nman might see. Therewith came that horrible giant to slay him, and then\nhe looked about him, and might not fly, and he had nothing to defend\nhim with. So he ran to his sword, and when he saw it naked he praised\nit much, and then he shook it, and therewith he brake it in the midst.\nAh, said Nacien, the thing I most praised ought I now most to blame.\nAnd therewith he threw the pieces of his sword over his bed. And after\nhe lept over the board to fight with the giant, and slew him. And anon\nhe entered into the ship again, and the wind arose, and drove him\nthrough the sea, that by adventure he came to another ship where king\nMordrains was, which had been tempted full evil with a fiend in the\nport of perilous rock. And when that one saw the other they made great\njoy of other, and either told other of their adventure, and how the\nsword failed him at his most need. When Mordrains saw the sword he\npraised it much,\u2014but the breaking was not to do but by wickedness of\nthyselfward, for thou art in some sin:\u2014and there he took the sword,\nand set the pieces together, and they soldered as fair as ever they\nwere tofore; and there he put the sword in the sheath, and laid it down\non the bed. Then heard they a voice that said, Go out of this ship a\nlittle while, and enter into the other, for dread ye fall in deadly\nsin; for, and ye be found in deadly sin, ye may not escape but perish.\nAnd so they went into the other ship. And as Nacien went over the\nboard, he was smitten with a sword on the right foot, that he fell down\nnoseling to the ship\u2019s board, and therewith he said, O God, how am I\nhurt. And then there came a voice and said, Take thou that for thy\nforfeit that thou didst in drawing of this sword, therefore thou\nreceivest a wound, for thou were never worthy to handle it, as the\nwriting maketh mention. In the name of God, said Galahad, ye are right\nwise of these works.\n_How king Pelles was smitten through both thighs because he drew the\n sword, and other marvellous histories._\nSir, said she, there was a king that hight Pelles the maimed king. And\nwhile he might ride, he supported much Christendom, and holy Church. So\nupon a day he hunted in a wood of his which lasted unto the sea, and at\nthe last he lost his hounds and his knights, save only one: and there\nhe and his knight went till that they came toward Ireland, and there he\nfound the ship. And when he saw the letters and understood them, yet he\nentered, for he was right perfect of his life: but his knight had none\nhardiness to enter, and there found he this sword, and drew it out as\nmuch as ye may see. So therewith entered a spear, wherewith he was\nsmitten him through both the thighs, and never sith might he be healed,\nnor nought shall tofore we come to him. Thus, said she, was king\nPelles, your grandsire, maimed for his hardiness. In the name of God,\ndamsel, said Galahad. So they went toward the bed to behold all about\nit, and above the head there hung two swords. Also there were two\nspindles which were as white as any snow, and other that were as red as\nblood, and other above green as any emerald: of these three colours\nwere the spindles, and of natural colour within, and without any\npainting. These spindles, said the damsel, were when sinful Eve came to\ngather fruit, for which Adam and she were put out of paradise, she took\nwith her the bough on which the apple hung on. Then perceived she that\nthe branch was fair and green, and she remembered her the loss which\ncame from the tree. Then she thought to keep the branch as long as she\nmight. And for she had no coffer to keep it in, she put it in the\nearth. So by the will of our Lord the branch grew to a great tree\nwithin a little while, and was as white as any snow, branches, boughs,\nand leaves, that was a token a maiden planted it. But after the tree\nwhich was white became green as any grass, and all that came out of it.\nAnd in the same time there was Abel begotten; thus was the tree long of\ngreen colour. And so it befell many days after, under the same tree\nCain slew Abel, whereof befell great marvel. For anon as Abel had\nreceived the death under the green tree, it lost the green colour and\nbecame red, and that was in tokening of the blood. And anon all the\nplants died thereof, but the tree grew and waxed marvellously fair, and\nit was the fairest tree and the most delectable that any man might\nbehold and see, and so died the plants that grew out of it tofore the\ntime that Abel was slain under it. So long endured the tree till that\nSolomon king David\u2019s son reigned, and held the land after his father.\nThis Solomon was wise, and knew all the virtues of stones and trees,\nand so he knew the course of the stars, and many other diverse things.\nThis Solomon had an evil wife, where through he wend that there had\nnever been no good woman, and so he despised them in his books. So\nanswered a voice him once, Solomon, if heaviness come to a man by a\nwoman, ne reck thou never. For yet shall there come a woman whereof\nthere shall come greater joy unto man an hundred times more than this\nheaviness giveth sorrow, and that woman shall be born of thy lineage.\nThen when Solomon heard these words, he held himself but a fool, and\nthe truth he perceived by old books. Also the Holy Ghost shewed him the\ncoming of the glorious Virgin Mary. Then asked he of the voice if it\nshould be in the end of his lineage. Nay, said the voice, but there\nshall come a man which shall be a maid, and the last of your blood, and\nhe shall be as good a knight as duke Josua thy brother-in-law.\n_How Solomon took David\u2019s sword by the counsel of his wife, and of\n other matters marvellous._\nNow have I certified thee of that thou stoodst in doubt. Then was\nSolomon glad that there should come any such of his lineage, but ever\nhe marvelled and studied who that should be, and what his name might\nbe. His wife perceived that he studied, and thought that she would know\nit at some season, and so she waited her time, and asked of him the\ncause of his studying, and there he told her altogether how the voice\ntold him. Well, said she, I shall let make a ship of the best wood and\nmost durable that men may find. So Solomon sent for all the carpenters\nof the land and the best. And when they had made the ship, the lady\nsaid to Solomon, Sir, said she, since it is so that this knight ought\nto pass all other knights of chivalry which have been tofore him, and\nshall come after him, moreover I shall tell you, said she, ye shall go\ninto our Lord\u2019s temple, whereas is king David\u2019s sword, your father, the\nwhich is the marvellousest and sharpest that ever was taken in any\nknight\u2019s hand. Therefore take that, and take off the pommel, and\nthereto make ye a pommel of precious stones, that it be so subtilly\nmade that no man perceive it but that they be all one. And after make\nthere an hilt so marvellously and wonderly that no man may know it. And\nafter make a marvellous sheath. And when ye have made all this, I shall\nlet make a girdle thereto, such as shall please me. All this king\nSolomon did let make as she devised, both the ship and all the remnant.\nAnd when the ship was ready in the sea to sail, the lady let make a\ngreat bed, and marvellous rich, and set her upon the bed\u2019s head covered\nwith silk, and laid the sword at the feet, and the girdles were of\nhemp, and therewith the king was angry. Sir, wit ye well, said she,\nthat I have none so high a thing which were worthy to sustain so high a\nsword, and a maid shall bring other knights thereto, but I wot not when\nit shall be, nor what time. And there she let make a covering to the\nship, of cloth of silk that should never rot for no manner of weather.\nYet went that lady, and made a carpenter to come to the tree which Abel\nwas slain under. Now, said she, carve me out of this tree as much wood\nas will make me a spindle. Ah, madam, said he, this is the tree the\nwhich our first mother planted. Do it, said she, or else I shall\ndestroy thee. Anon as he began to work there came out drops of blood,\nand then would he have left, but she would not suffer him, and so he\ntook away as much wood as might make a spindle, and so she made him to\ntake as much of the green tree, and of the white tree. And when these\nthree spindles were shapen, she made them to be fastened upon the\nceiling of the bed. When Solomon saw this, he said to his wife, Ye have\ndone marvellously, for though all the world were here right now, they\ncould not devise wherefore all this was made, but our Lord himself, and\nthou that hast done it wotest not what it shall betoken. Now let it be,\nsaid she, for ye shall hear tidings sooner than ye ween.\nNow shall ye hear a wonderful tale of king Solomon and his wife.\n_A wonderful tale of king Solomon and his wife._\nThat night lay Solomon before the ship with little fellowship. And when\nhe was on sleep, him thought there came from heaven a great company of\nangels, and alight into the ship, and took water which was brought by\nan angel in a vessel of silver, and sprinkled all the ship. And after\nhe came to the sword and drew letters on the hilt. And after went to\nthe ship\u2019s board, and wrote there other letters, which said: Thou man\nthat wilt enter within me, beware that thou be full within the faith,\nfor I ne am but faith and belief. When Solomon espied these letters he\nwas abashed, so that he durst not enter, and so drew him aback, and the\nship was anon shoven in the sea, and he went so fast that he lost sight\nof him within a little while. And then a little voice said, Solomon,\nthe last knight of thy lineage shall rest in this bed. Then went\nSolomon and awaked his wife, and told her of the adventures of the ship.\nNow saith the history, that a great while the three fellows beheld the\nbed and the three spindles. Then they were at certain that they were of\nnatural colours, without painting. Then they lift up a cloth which was\nabove the ground, and there they found a rich purse by seeming. And\nPercivale took it, and found therein a writ, and so he read it, and\ndevised the manner of the spindles, and of the ship, whence it came,\nand by whom it was made. Now, said Galahad, where shall we find the\ngentlewoman that shall make new girdles to the sword. Fair sir, said\nPercivale\u2019s sister, dismay you not, for by the leave of God I shall let\nmake a girdle to the sword, such one as shall belong thereto. And then\nshe opened a box, and took out girdles which were seemly wrought with\ngolden threads, and upon that were set full precious stones, and a rich\nbuckle of gold. Lo lords, said she, here is a girdle that ought to be\nset about the sword. And wit ye well the greatest part of this girdle\nwas made of my hair, which I loved well while that I was a woman of the\nworld. But as soon as I wist that this adventure was ordained me, I\nclipped off my hair and made this girdle in the name of God. Ye be well\nfound, said Sir Bors, for certes you have put us out of great pain,\nwherein we should have entered ne had your tidings been. Then went the\ngentlewoman and set it on the girdle of the sword. Now, said the\nfellowship, what is the name of the sword, and what shall we call it?\nTruly, said she, the name of the sword is, the sword with the strange\ngirdles, and the sheath, mover of blood; for no man that hath blood in\nhim shall never see the one part of the sheath which was made of the\ntree of life. Then they said to Galahad, In the name of Jesu Christ,\nand pray you that ye gird you with this sword, which hath been desired\nso much in the realm of Logris. Now let me begin, said Galahad, to\ngripe this sword for to give you courage: but wit ye well it belongeth\nno more to me then it doth to you. And then he griped about it with his\nfingers a great deal. And then she girt him about the middle with the\nsword:\u2014Now reck I not though I die, for now I hold me one of the\nblessed maidens of the world, which hath made the worthiest knight of\nthe world. Damsel, said Galahad, ye have done so much that I shall be\nyour knight all the days of my life. Then they went from that ship, and\nwent to the other. And anon the wind drove them into the sea a great\npace, but they had no victual: but it befell that they came on the morn\nto a castle that men call Carteloise, that was in the marches of\nScotland. And when they had passed the port, the gentlewoman said,\nLords, here be men arriven that, and they wist that ye were of king\nArthur\u2019s court, ye should be assailed anon. Damsel, said Galahad, he\nthat cast us out of the rock shall deliver us from them.\n_How Galahad and his fellows came to a castle, and how they were fought\n withal, and how they slew their adversaries, and other matters._\nSo it befell, as they spake thus there came a squire by them, and asked\nwhat they were. And they said they were of king Arthur\u2019s house. Is that\nsooth? said he. Now by my head, said he, ye be ill arrayed; and then\nturned he again unto the cliff fortress. And within a while they heard\na horn blow. Then a gentlewoman came to them, and asked them of whence\nthey were, and they told her. Fair lords, said she, for God\u2019s love turn\nagain if ye may, for ye be come unto your death. Nay, they said, we\nwill not turn again, for He shall help us in whose service we be\nentered in. Then as they stood talking, there came knights well armed,\nand bad them yield them, or else to die. That yielding, said they,\nshall be noyous to you; and therewith they let their horses run, and\nSir Percivale smote the foremost to the earth, and took his horse and\nmounted thereupon, and the same did Galahad. Also Sir Bors served\nanother so. For they had no horses in that country, for they left their\nhorses when they took their ship in other countries. And so when they\nwere horsed then began they to set upon them. And they of the castle\nfled into the strong fortress, and the three knights after them, into\nthe castle, and so alight on foot, and with their swords slew them\ndown, and gat into the hall. Then when they beheld the great multitude\nof people they had slain, they held themselves great sinners. Certes,\nsaid Bors, I ween and God had loved them that we should not have had\npower to have slain them thus but they have done so much against our\nLord that he will not suffer them to reign no longer. Say ye not so,\nsaid Galahad, for if they misdid against God the vengeance is not ours,\nbut to Him which hath power thereof. So came there out of a chamber a\ngood man which was a priest, and bear God\u2019s body in a cup. And when he\nsaw them which lay dead in the hall, he was all abashed. And Galahad\ndid off his helm and kneeled down, and so did his two fellows. Sir,\nsaid they, have ye no dread of us, for we be of king Arthur\u2019s court.\nThen asked the good man how they were slain so suddenly; and they told\nit him. Truly, said the good man, and ye might live as long as the\nworld might endure, never might ye have done so great an alms-deed as\nthis. Sir, said Galahad, I repent me much, inasmuch as they were\nchristened. Nay, repent you not, said he, for they were not christened,\nand I shall tell you how that I wot of this castle. Here was lord earl\nHernox not but one year, and he had three sons good knights of arms,\nand a daughter the fairest gentlewoman that men knew. So those three\nknights loved their sister so sore that they burnt in love, and so they\ndishonoured her, maugre her head. And for she cried to her father, they\nslew her, and took their father and put him in prison, and wounded him\nnigh to the death, but a cousin of hers rescued him. And then did they\ngreat untruth: they slew clerks and priests, and made beat down\nchapels, that our Lord\u2019s service might not be served nor said; and this\nsame day their father sent to me for to be confessed and houseled, but\nsuch shame had never man as I had this day with the three brethren: but\nthe earl bad me suffer, for he said they should not long endure, for\nthree servants of our Lord should destroy them: and now it is brought\nto an end. And by this ye may wit that our Lord is not displeased with\nyour deeds. Certes, said Galahad, and it had not pleased our Lord,\nnever should we have slain so many men in so little a while. And then\nthey brought the earl Hernox out of prison into the midst of the hall,\nthat knew Galahad anon, and yet he saw him never afore but by\nrevelation of our Lord.\n_How the three knights, with Percivale\u2019s sister, came into the waste\n forest, and of an hart and four lions and other things._\nThen began he to weep right tenderly, and said, Long have I abiden your\ncoming, but for God\u2019s love hold me in your arms, that my soul may\ndepart out of my body in so good a man\u2019s arms as ye be. Gladly, said\nGalahad. And then one said on high that all heard, Galahad, well hast\nthou avenged me on God\u2019s enemies. Now behoveth thee to go to the maimed\nking as soon as thou mayest, for he shall receive by thee health which\nhe hath abiden so long. And therewith the soul departed from the body.\nAnd Galahad made him to be buried as he ought to be.\nRight so departed the three knights, and Percivale\u2019s sister with them.\nAnd so they came into a waste forest, and there they saw afore them a\nwhite hart, which four lions led. Then they took them to assent for to\nfollow after, for to know whither they repaired; and so they rode\nafter, a great pace, till that they came to a valley, and thereby was\nan hermitage where a good man dwelled; and the hart and the lions\nentered also. So when they saw all this, they turned to the chapel, and\nsaw the good man in a religious weed, and in the armour of our Lord,\nfor he would sing mass of the Holy Ghost, and so they entered in and\nheard mass. And at the secrets of the mass, they three saw the hart\nbecome a man, the which marvelled them, and set him upon the altar in a\nrich siege, and saw the four lions were changed, the one to the form of\na man, the other to the form of a lion, and the third to an eagle, and\nthe fourth was changed unto an ox. Then took they their siege where the\nhart sat, and went out through a glass window, and there was nothing\nperished nor broken, and they heard a voice say, In such a manner\nentered the son of God in the womb of a maid, Mary. And when they heard\nthese words, they fell down to the earth, and were astonied, and\ntherewith was a great clearness. And when they were come to themselves\nagain, they went to the good man, and prayed him that he would say them\ntruth. What thing have ye seen? said he: and they told him all that\nthey had seen. Ah, lords, said he, ye be welcome, now wot I well ye be\nthe good knights the which shall bring the Sancgreal to an end; for ye\nbe they unto whom our Lord shall shew great secrets. And well ought our\nLord be signified to an hart; for the hart when he is old he waxeth\nyoung again in his white skin: right so cometh again our Lord from\ndeath to life, for he lost earthly flesh, that was the deadly flesh\nwhich he had taken in the womb of the blessed virgin Mary; and for that\ncause appeared our Lord as a while hart without spot. And the four that\nwere with him is to understand the four evangelists, which set in\nwriting a part of Jesu Christ\u2019s deeds that he did some time when he was\namong you an earthly man. For wit ye well never erst might no knight\nknow the truth, for, ofttimes or this, our Lord shewed him unto good\nmen and unto good knights in likeness of an hart. But I suppose from\nhenceforth ye shall see no more. And then they joyed much, and dwelled\nthere all that day. And upon the morrow, when they had heard mass they\ndeparted, and commended the good man to God. And so they came to a\ncastle, and passed by. So there came a knight armed after them, and\nsaid, Lords, hark what I shall say to you.\n_How they were desired of a strange custom, the which they would not\n obey; and how they fought and slew many knights._\nThis gentlewoman that ye lead with you is a maid? Sir, said she, a maid\nI am. Then he took her by the bridle and said, By the holy cross ye\nshall not escape me tofore ye have yielden the custom of this castle.\nLet her go, said Percivale; ye be not wise, for a maid in what place\nshe cometh is free. So in the meanwhile there came out a ten or twelve\nknights armed, out of the castle, and with them came gentlewomen which\nheld a dish of silver, and then they said, This gentlewoman must yield\nus the custom of this castle. Sir, said a knight, what maid passeth\nhereby shall give this dish full of blood of her right arm. Blame have\nye, said Galahad, that brought up such customs, and I ensure you of\nthis gentlewoman ye shall fail while that I live. Truly, said Sir\nPercivale, I had lever be slain. And I also, said Sir Bors. By my\ntruth, said the knight, then shall ye die, for ye may not endure\nagainst us, though ye were the best knights of the world. Then let them\nrun each to other, and the three fellows beat the ten knights, and then\nset their hands to their swords, and beat them down and slew them. Then\nthere came out of the castle well a threescore knights armed. Fair\nlords, said the three fellows, have mercy upon yourselves, and have not\nado with us. Nay, fair lords, said the knights of the castle, we\ncounsel you to withdraw you, for ye are the best knights of the world,\nand therefore do no more, for ye have done enough. We will let you go\nwith this harm, but we must needs have the custom. Certes, said\nGalahad, for nought speak ye. Well, said they, will ye die? We be not\nyet come thereto, said Galahad. Then began they to meddle together, and\nGalahad drew his sword with the strange girdles, and smote on the right\nhand and on the left hand, and slew what that ever abode him, and did\nsuch marvels that there was none that saw him but they wend he had been\nnone earthly man but a monster. And his two fellows halp him passing\nwell, and so they held the journey every each in like hard, till it was\nnight. Then must they needs part. So came a good knight and said to the\nthree fellows, If ye will come in to night, and take such harbour as\nhere is, ye shall be right welcome, and we shall ensure you by the\nfaith of our bodies, as we are true knights, to leave you in such\nestate to-morrow as we find you, without any falsehood. And as soon as\nye know of the custom we dare say ye will accord. Therefore, for God\u2019s\nlove, said the gentlewoman, go thither, and spare not for me. Go we,\nsaid Galahad, and so they entered into the castle. And when they were\nalight, they made great joy of them. So within a while the three\nknights asked the custom of the castle, and wherefore it was. What it\nis, said they, we will say you sooth.\n_How Sir Percivale\u2019s sister bled a dish full of blood for to heal a\n lady; wherefore she died; and how that the body was put in a ship._\nThere is in this castle a gentlewoman which we and this castle is hers,\nand many other. So it befell many years agone there fell upon her a\nmalady. And when she had lain a great while, she fell into a measle,\nand of no leech she could have no remedy. But at the last an old man\nsaid, and she might have a dish full of blood of a maid and a clean\nvirgin in will and in work, and a king\u2019s daughter, that blood should be\nher health, and for to anoint her withal: and for this thing was this\ncustom made. Now, said Percivale\u2019s sister, Fair knights, I see well\nthat this gentlewoman is but dead. Certes, said Galahad, and if ye\nbleed so much, ye may die. Truly, said she, and I die for to heal her,\nI shall get me great worship and soul\u2019s health, and worship to my\nlineage, and better is one harm than twain. And therefore there shall\nbe no more battle, but to-morn I shall yield you your custom of this\ncastle. And then there was great joy, more than there was tofore. For\nelse had there been mortal war upon the morn; notwithstanding she would\nnone other, whether they would or nold. That night were the three\nfellows eased with the best, and on the morn they heard mass, and Sir\nPercivale\u2019s sister bad bring forth the sick lady. So she was, the which\nwas evil at ease. Then said she, Who shall let me blood? So one came\nforth and let her blood, and she bled so much that the dish was full.\nThen she lift up her hand and blessed her. And then she said to the\nlady, Madam, I am come to the death, for to make you whole; for God\u2019s\nlove pray for me. With that she fell in a swoon. Then Galahad and his\ntwo fellows start up to her, and lift her up, and stanched her, but she\nhad bled so much that she might not live. Then she said, when she was\nawaked, Fair brother Percivale, I die for the healing of this lady. So\nI require you that ye bury not me in this country, but as soon as I am\ndead put me in a boat at the next haven, and let me go as adventure\nwill lead me; and as soon as ye three come to the city of Sarras, there\nto achieve the holy Graile, ye shall find me under a tower arrived, and\nthere bury me in the spiritual place, for I say you so much, there\nGalahad shall be buried, and ye also, in the same place. Then Percivale\nunderstood these words, and granted it her, weeping. And then said a\nvoice, Lords and fellows, to-morrow at the hour of prime ye three shall\ndepart every each from other, till the adventure bring you to the\nmaimed king. Then asked she her Saviour, and as soon as she had\nreceived him the soul departed from the body. So the same day was the\nlady healed, when she was anointed withal. Then Sir Percivale made a\nletter of all that she had holpen them as in strange adventures, and\nput it in her right hand, and so laid her in a barge, and covered it\nwith black silk; and so the wind arose, and drove the barge from the\nland, and all knights beheld it, till it was out of their sight.\nThen they drew all to the castle, and so forthwith there fell a sudden\ntempest, and a thunder, lightning, and rain, as all the earth would\nhave broken. So half the castle turned up so down. So it passed\nevensong or the tempest was ceased. Then they saw afore them a knight\narmed and wounded hard in the body and in the head, that said, Oh God,\nsuccour me, for now it is need! After this knight came another knight\nand a dwarf which cried to them afar, Stand, ye may not escape. Then\nthe wounded knight held up his hands to God, that he should not die in\nsuch tribulation. Truly, said Galahad, I shall succour him for His sake\nthat he calleth upon. Sir, said Bors, I shall do it, for it is not for\nyou, for he is but one knight. Sir, said he, I grant. So Sir Bors took\nhis horse, and commended him to God, and rode after to rescue the\nwounded knight.\nNow turn we to the two fellows.\n_How Galahad and Percivale found in a castle many tombs of maidens that\n had bled to death._\nNow saith the story that all night Galahad and Percivale were in a\nchapel in their prayers, for to save Sir Bors. So on the morrow they\ndressed them in their harness toward the castle, to wit what was fallen\nof them therein. And when they came there, they found neither man nor\nwoman that he ne was dead by the vengeance of our Lord. With that they\nheard a voice that said, This vengeance is for blood shedding of\nmaidens. Also they found at the end of the chapel a churchyard, and\ntherein might they see a threescore fair tombs, and that place was so\nfair and so delectable that it seemed them there had been none tempest.\nFor there lay the bodies of all the good maidens which were martyred\nfor the sick lady\u2019s sake. Also they found the names of every each, and\nof what blood they were come, and all were of kings\u2019 blood, and twelve\nof them were kings\u2019 daughters. Then they departed, and went into a\nforest. Now, said Percivale unto Galahad, we must depart; so pray we\nour Lord that we may meet together in short time. Then they did off\ntheir helms, and kissed together, and wept at their departing.\n_How Sir Launcelot entered into the ship where Sir Percivale\u2019s sister\n lay dead; and how he met with Sir Galahad his son._\nNow saith the history, that when Launcelot was come to the water of\nMortoise, as it is rehearsed before, he was in great peril, and so he\nlaid him down and slept, and took the adventure that God would send him.\nSo when he was asleep, there came a vision unto him and said,\nLauncelot, arise up, and take thine armour, and enter into the first\nship that thou shalt find. And when he had heard these words, he start\nup and saw great clearness about him. And then he lift up his hand and\nblessed him, and so took his arms, and made him ready; and so by\nadventure he came by a strand, and found a ship, the which was without\nsail or oar. And as soon as he was within the ship, there he felt the\nmost sweetness that ever he felt; and he was fulfilled with all thing\nthat he thought on or desired. Then said he, Fair sweet Father Jesu\nChrist, I wot not in what joy I am, for this joy passeth all earthly\njoys that ever I was in. And so in this joy he laid him down to the\nship\u2019s board, and slept till day. And when he awoke, he found there a\nfair bed, and therein lying a gentlewoman dead, the which was Sir\nPercivale\u2019s sister. And as Launcelot devised her, he espied in her\nright hand a writ, the which he read, the which told him all the\nadventures that ye have heard tofore, and of what lineage she was come.\nSo with this gentlewoman Sir Launcelot was a month and more. If ye\nwould ask how he lived, He that fed the people of Israel with manna in\nthe desert, so was he fed. For every day, when he had said his prayers,\nhe was sustained with the grace of the Holy Ghost. So on a night he\nwent to play him by the water side, for he was somewhat weary of the\nship. And then he listened, and heard an horse come, and one riding\nupon him. And when he came nigh he seemed a knight. And so he let him\npass, and went there as the ship was, and there he alight, and took the\nsaddle and the bridle and put the horse from him, and went into the\nship. And then Launcelot dressed unto him and said, Ye be welcome. And\nhe answered and saluted him again, and asked him, What is your name?\nfor much my heart giveth unto you. Truly, said he, my name is Launcelot\ndu Lake. Sir, said he, then be ye welcome, for ye were the beginner of\nme in this world. Ah, said he, are ye Galahad? Yea forsooth, said he.\nAnd so he kneeled down and asked him his blessing, and after took off\nhis helm and kissed him. And there was great joy between them, for\nthere is no tongue can tell the joy that they made either of other, and\nmany a friendly word spoken between, as kind would, the which is no\nneed here to be rehearsed. And there every each told other of their\nadventures and marvels that were befallen to them in many journeys,\nsith that they departed from the court. Anon as Galahad saw the\ngentlewoman dead in the bed, he knew her well enough, and told great\nworship of her, and that she was the best maid living, and it was great\npity of her death. But when Launcelot heard how the marvellous sword\nwas gotten, and who made it, and all the marvels rehearsed afore, then\nhe prayed Galahad his son that he would shew him the sword, and so he\ndid. And anon he kissed the pommel, and the hilts, and the scabbard.\nTruly, said Launcelot, never erst knew I of so high adventures done,\nand so marvellous and strange. So dwelled Launcelot and Galahad within\nthat ship half a year, and served God daily and nightly with all their\npower. And often they arrived in isles far from folk, where there\nrepaired none but wild beasts; and there they found many strange\nadventures and perilous, which they brought to an end. But because the\nadventures were with wild beasts, and not in the quest of the\nSancgreal, therefore the tale maketh here no mention thereof, for it\nwould be too long to tell of all those adventures that befell them.\n_How a knight brought unto Sir Galahad an horse, and bad him come from\n his father Sir Launcelot._\nSo after, on a Monday, it befell that they arrived in the edge of a\nforest, tofore a cross, and then saw they a knight, armed all in white,\nand was richly horsed, and led in his right hand a white horse. And so\nhe came to the ship, and saluted the two knights on the high Lord\u2019s\nbehalf, and said, Galahad, sir, ye have been long enough with your\nfather, come out of the ship, and start upon this horse, and go where\nthe adventures shall lead thee in the quest of the Sancgreal. Then he\nwent to his father, and kissed him sweetly, and said, Fair sweet\nfather, I wot not when I shall see you more, till I see the body of\nJesu Christ. I pray you, said Launcelot, pray ye to the high Father\nthat He hold me in his service. And so he took his horse; and there\nthey heard a voice, that said, Think for to do well, for the one shall\nnever see the other before the dreadful day of doom. Now, son Galahad,\nsaid Launcelot, since we shall depart, and never see other, I pray to\nthe high Father to preserve both me and you both. Sir, said Galahad, no\nprayer availeth so much as yours. And therewith Galahad entered into\nthe forest. And the wind arose, and drove Launcelot more than a month\nthroughout the sea, where he slept but little, but prayed to God that\nhe might see some tidings of the Sancgreal. So it befell on a night, at\nmidnight he arrived afore a castle, on the back side, which was rich\nand fair. And there was a postern opened towards the sea, and was open\nwithout any keeping, save two lions kept the entry; and the moon shone\nclear. Anon Sir Launcelot heard a voice that said, Launcelot, go out of\nthis ship, and enter into the castle, where thou shalt see a great part\nof thy desire. Then he ran to his arms, and so armed him, and so he\nwent to the gate, and saw the lions. Then set he hand to his sword, and\ndrew it. Then there came a dwarf suddenly, and smote him on the arm so\nsore that the sword fell out of his hand. Then heard he a voice say, Oh\nman of evil faith and poor belief, wherefore trowest thou more on thy\nharness than in thy Maker? for He might more avail thee than thine\narmour, in whose service thou art set. Then said Launcelot, Fair Father\nJesu Christ, I thank thee of thy great mercy, that thou reprovest me of\nmy misdeed. Now see I well that ye hold me for your servant. Then took\nhe again his sword, and put it up in his sheath, and made a cross in\nhis forehead, and came to the lions, and they made semblant to do him\nharm. Notwithstanding he passed by them without hurt, and entered into\nthe castle to the chief fortress, and there were they all at rest. Then\nLauncelot entered in so armed, for he found no gate nor door but it was\nopen. And at the last he found a chamber whereof the door was shut, and\nhe set his hand thereto to have opened it, but he might not.\n_How Sir Launcelot was tofore the door of the chamber wherein the holy\n Sancgreal was._\nThen he enforced him mickle to undo the door. Then he listened, and\nheard a voice which sang so sweetly that it seemed none earthly thing;\nand him thought the voice said, Joy and honour be to the Father of\nHeaven! Then Launcelot kneeled down tofore the chamber, for well wist\nhe that there was the Sancgreal within that chamber. Then said he, Fair\nsweet Father Jesu Christ, if ever I did thing that pleased the Lord,\nfor thy pity have me not in despite for my sins done aforetime, and\nthat thou shew me something of that I seek! And with that he saw the\nchamber door open, and there came out a great clearness, that the house\nwas as bright as all the torches of the world had been there. So came\nhe to the chamber door, and would have entered. And anon a voice said\nto him, Flee Launcelot, and enter not, for thou oughtest not to do it:\nand if thou enter thou shalt forthink it. Then he withdrew him aback\nright heavy. Then looked he up in the midst of the chamber, and saw a\ntable of silver, and the holy vessel covered with red samite, and many\nangels about it, whereof one held a candle of wax burning, and the\nother held a cross, and the ornaments of an altar. And before the holy\nvessel he saw a good man clothed as a priest, and it seemed that he was\nat the sacring of the mass. And it seemed to Launcelot that above the\npriest\u2019s hands there were three men, whereof the two put the youngest\nby likeness between the priest\u2019s hands, and so he lift it up right\nhigh, and it seemed to shew so to the people. And then Launcelot\nmarvelled not a little, for him thought that the priest was so greatly\ncharged of the figure, that him seemed that he should fall to the\nearth. And when he saw none about him that would help him, then came he\nto the door a great pace, and said, Fair Father Jesu Christ, ne take it\nfor no sin though I help the good man, which hath great need of help.\nRight so entered he into the chamber, and came toward the table of\nsilver; and when he came nigh he felt a breath that him thought it was\nintermeddled with fire, which smote him so sore in the visage that him\nthought it burnt his visage; and therewith he fell to the earth, and\nhad no power to arise, as he that was so araged that had lost the power\nof his body, and his hearing, and his saying. Then felt he many hands\nabout him, which took him up and bare him out of the chamber door,\nwithout any amending of his swoon, and left him there seeming dead to\nall people. So upon the morrow, when it was fair day, they within were\narisen, and found Launcelot lying afore the chamber door. All they\nmarvelled how that he came in. And so they looked upon him, and felt\nhis pulse, to wit whether there were any life in him; and so they found\nlife in him, but he might neither stand, nor stir no member that he\nhad; and so they took him by every part of the body, and bare him into\na chamber, and laid him in a rich bed, far from all folk, and so he lay\nfour days. Then the one said he was on live, and the other said nay. In\nthe name of God, said an old man, for I do you verily to wit he is not\ndead, but he is so full of life as the mightiest of you all, and\ntherefore I counsel you that he be well kept till God send him life\nagain.\n_How Sir Launcelot had lain fourteen days and as many nights as a dead\n man, and other divers matters._\nIn such manner they kept Launcelot four and twenty days, and also many\nnights, that ever he lay still as a dead man; and at the twenty-fifth\nday befell him after midday that he opened his eyes. And when he saw\nfolk he made great sorrow and said, Why have ye awaked me? for I was\nmore at ease than I am now. Oh Jesu Christ, who might be so blessed\nthat might see openly thy great marvels of secretness there where no\nsinner may be. What have ye seen? said they about him. I have seen,\nsaid he, so great marvels that no tongue may tell, and more than any\nheart can think, and had not my son been here afore me I had seen much\nmore. Then they told him how he had lain there four and twenty days and\nnights. Then him thought it was punishment for the twenty-four years\nthat he had been a sinner, wherefore our Lord put him in penance four\nand twenty days and nights. Then looked Sir Launcelot before him, and\nsaw the hair which he had borne nigh a year, for that he forethought\nhim right much that he had broken his promise unto the hermit, which he\nhad avowed to do. Then they asked him how it stood with him. Forsooth,\nsaid he, I am whole of body, thanked be our Lord; therefore, sirs, for\nGod\u2019s love tell me where that I am? Then said they all that he was in\nthe castle of Carbonek. Therewith came a gentlewoman, and brought him a\nshirt of small linen cloth, but he changed not there, but took the hair\nto him again. Sir, said they, the quest of the Sancgreal is achieved\nright now in you, that never shall ye see of the Sancgreal no more than\nye have seen. Now I thank God, said Launcelot, of His great mercy, of\nthat I have seen, for it sufficeth me, for, as I suppose, no man in\nthis world hath lived better than I have done to achieve that I have\ndone. And therewith he took the hair, and clothed him in it, and above\nthat he put a linen shirt, and after a robe of scarlet, fresh and new.\nAnd when he was so arrayed, they marvelled all, for they knew him that\nhe was Launcelot, the good knight. And then they said all, O my lord\nSir Launcelot, be that ye? And he said, Truly I am he. Then came word\nto king Pelles, that the knight that had lain so long dead was Sir\nLauncelot; then was the king right glad, and went to see him. And when\nLauncelot saw him come, he dressed him against him, and there made the\nking great joy of him. And there the king told him tidings, that his\nfair daughter was dead. Then Launcelot was right heavy of it, and said,\nSir, me forthinketh the death of your daughter, for she was a full fair\nlady, fresh and young. And well I wot she bare the best knight that is\nnow on earth, or that ever was since God was born. So the king held him\nthere four days. And on the morrow he took his leave at king Pelles,\nand at all the fellowship that were there, and thanked them of the\ngreat labour. Right so as they sat at dinner in the chief hall, then\nwas it so befallen that the Sancgreal had fulfilled the tables with all\nmanner of meats that any heart might think. So as they sat, they saw\nall the doors and windows of the place were shut without man\u2019s hand,\nwhereof they were all abashed, and none wist what to do. And then it\nhapped suddenly a knight came to the chief door, and knocked, and\ncried, Undo the door; but they would not. And ever he cried, Undo, but\nthey would not. And at the last it annoyed them so much, that the king\nhimself arose, and came to a window where the knight called. Then he\nsaid, Sir knight, ye shall not enter at this time, while the Sancgreal\nis here, and therefore go into another. For certes ye be none of the\nknights of the quest, but one of them which hath served the fiend, and\nhast left the service of our Lord. And he was passing wroth at the\nking\u2019s words. Sir knight, said the king, sin ye would so fain enter,\nsay me of what country ye be? Sir, said he, I am of the realm of\nLogris, and my name is Ector de Maris, and brother unto my lord Sir\nLauncelot. Truly, said the king, me forthinketh of that I have said,\nfor your brother is here within. And when Ector de Maris understood\nthat his brother was there, for he was the man in the world that he\nmost dread and loved, and then he said, Alas, now doubleth my sorrow\nand shame, full truly said the good man of the hill unto Gawaine and to\nme of our dreams. Then went he out of the court as fast as his courser\nmight run, and so through out the castle.\n_How Sir Launcelot returned towards Logris, and of other adventures\n which he saw in the way._\nThen king Pelles came to Sir Launcelot, and told him tidings of his\nbrother, whereof he was sorry that he wist not what to do. So Sir\nLauncelot departed, and took his armour, and said that he would go see\nthe realm of Logris\u2014which I have not seen in a twelvemonth. And\ntherewith commended the king to God, and so rode through many realms.\nAnd at the last he came to a white abbey, and there they made him that\nnight great cheer. And on the morn he arose and heard mass, and afore\nan altar he found a rich tomb which was newly made, and then he took\nheed, and saw the sides written with letters of gold, which said, Here\nlieth king Bagdemagus of Gore, the which king Arthur\u2019s nephew\nslew:\u2014and named him Sir Gawaine. Then was not he a little sorry, for\nLauncelot loved him much more than any other, and had it been any other\nthan Gawaine he should not have escaped from death to life:\u2014said to\nhimself, Alas, this is a great hurt to king Arthur\u2019s court, the loss of\nsuch a man. And then he departed, and came to the abbey where Galahad\ndid the adventure of the tombs, and wan the white shield with the red\ncross, and there had he great cheer all that night. And on the morn he\nturned unto Camelot, where he found king Arthur and the queen. But many\nof the knights of the Round Table were slain and destroyed, more than\nhalf. And so three were come home, Ector, Gawaine, and Lionel, and many\nother that need not to be rehearsed. And all the court was passing glad\nof Sir Launcelot; and the king asked him many tidings of his son\nGalahad. And there Launcelot told the king of his adventures that had\nbefallen him since he departed. And also he told him of the adventures\nof Galahad, Percivale, and Bors, which that he knew by the letter of\nthe dead damsel, and as Galahad had told him. Now, God would, said the\nking, that they were all three here. That shall never be, said\nLauncelot, for two of them shall ye never see, but one of them shall\ncome again.\nNow leave we this story, and speak we of Galahad.\n_How Galahad came to king Mordrains, and of other matters and\n adventures._\nNow saith the story that Galahad rode many journeys in vain. And at the\nlast he came to the abbey where king Mordrains was, and when he heard\nthat, he thought he would abide to see him. And upon the morn, when he\nhad heard mass, Galahad came unto king Mordrains, and anon the king saw\nhim, the which had lain blind of long time. And then he dressed him\nagainst him, and said, Galahad, the servant of Jesu Christ, whose\ncoming I have abiden so long, now embrace me, and let me rest on thy\nbreast, so that I may rest between thine arms, for thou art a clean\nvirgin above all knights, as the flower of the lily, in whom virginity\nis signified, and thou art the rose, the which is the flower of all\ngood virtue, and in colour of fire. For the fire of the Holy Ghost is\ntaken so in thee, that my flesh, which was all dead of oldness, is\nbecome young again. When Galahad heard his words, then he embraced him\nand all his body. Then said he, Fair Lord Jesu Christ, now I have my\nwill, now I require thee in this point that I am in, thou come and\nvisit me. And anon our Lord heard his prayer. Therewith the soul\ndeparted from the body. And then Galahad put him in the earth as a king\nought to be: and so departed, and came into a perilous forest, where he\nfound the well the which boiled with great waves, as the tale telleth\ntofore. And as soon as Galahad set his hand thereto it ceased, so that\nit burnt no more, and the heat departed: for that it burnt it was a\nsign of lust; but that heat might not abide his pure virginity. And\nthis was taken in the country for a miracle, and so ever after was it\ncalled Galahad\u2019s well. Then by adventure he came into the country of\nGore, and into the abbey where Sir Launcelot had been toforehand, and\nfound the tomb of king Bagdemagus (but was founder thereof Joseph of\nArmathie\u2019s son) and the tomb of Simeon where Launcelot had failed. Then\nhe looked into a croft under the minster, and there he saw a tomb which\nburnt full marvellously. Then asked he the brethren what it was? Sir,\nsaid they, a marvellous adventure that may not be brought unto none\nend, but by him that passeth of bounty and of knighthood all them of\nthe Round Table. I would, said Galahad, that ye would lead me thereto.\nGladly, said they: and so led him till a cave; and he went down upon\nsteps and came nigh the tomb, and then the flaming failed and the fire\nstaunched, the which many a day had been great. Then came there a voice\nthat said, Much are ye beholden to thank our Lord, the which hath given\nyou a good hour, that ye may draw out the souls of earthly pain, and to\nput them into the joys of paradise. I am of your kindred, the which\nhave dwelled in this heat this three hundred winter and four and fifty,\nto be purged of the sin that I did against Joseph of Armathie. Then\nGalahad took the body in his arms, and bear it into the minster. And\nthat night lay Galahad in the abbey: and on the morn he gave him\nservice, and put him in the earth, afore the high altar.\n_How Sir Percivale and Sir Bors met with Sir Galahad, and how they came\n to the castle of Carbonek, and other matters._\nSo departed he from thence, and commended the brethren to God. And so\nhe rode five days till that he came to the maimed king, and ever\nfollowed Percivale the five days, asking where he had been, and so one\ntold him how the adventures of Logris were achieved. So on a day it\nbefell that they came out of a great forest, and there they met at\ntravers with Sir Bors, the which rode alone. It is no need to tell if\nthey were glad, and them he saluted, and they yielded him honour and\ngood adventure; and every each told other. Then said Bors, It is more\nthan a year and a half that I ne lay ten times where men dwelled, but\nin wild forests and in mountains, but God was ever my comfort.\nThen rode they a great while till that they came to the castle of\nCarbonek. And when they were entered within the castle king Pelles knew\nthem. Then there was great joy, for they wist well by their coming that\nthey had fulfilled the quest of the Sancgreal. Then Eliazar, king\nPelles\u2019 son, brought afore them the broken sword wherewith Joseph was\nstricken through the thigh. Then Bors set his hand thereto, if he might\nhave soldered it again, but it would not be. Then he took it to\nPercivale, but he had no more power thereto than he. Now have ye it\nagain, said Percivale to Galahad, for and it be ever achieved by one\nbodily man, ye must do it. And then took he the pieces and set them\ntogether, and they seemed that they had never been broken, and as well\nas it had been first forged. And when they within espied that the\nadventure of the sword was achieved, then they gave the sword to Bors,\nfor it might not be better set, for he was a good knight, and a worthy\nman. And a little afore even the sword arose great and marvellous, and\nwas full of great heat, that many men fell for dread. And anon alight a\nvoice among them, and said, They that ought not to sit at the table of\nJesu Christ arise, for now shall very knights be fed. So they went\nthence all save king Pelles and Eliazar his son, the which were holy\nmen, and a maid which was his niece. And so these three fellows and\nthey three were there; no more. Anon they saw knights all armed come in\nat the hall door, and did off their helms and their arms, and said unto\nGalahad, Sir, we have hied right much for to be with you at this table,\nwhere the holy meat shall be parted. Then said he, Ye be welcome: but\nof whence be ye? So three of them said they were of Gaul, and other\nthree said they were of Ireland, and the other three said they were of\nDenmark. So as they sat thus, there came out a bed of tree of a\nchamber, the which four gentlewomen brought, and in the bed lay a good\nman sick, and a crown of gold upon his head; and there in the midst of\nthe place they set him down, and went again their way. Then he lift up\nhis head and said, Galahad, knight, ye be welcome, for much have I\ndesired your coming, for in such pain and in such anguish I have been\nlong. But now I trust to God the term is come that my pain shall be\nallayed, that I shall pass out of this world, so as it was promised me\nlong ago. Therewith a voice said, There be two among you that be not in\nthe quest of the Sancgreal, and therefore depart ye.\n_How Galahad and his fellows were fed of the holy Sangreal, and how our\n Lord appeared to them, and other things._\nThen king Pelles and his son departed. And therewithal beseemed them\nthat there came a man and four angels from heaven, clothed in likeness\nof a bishop, and had a cross in his hand, and these four angels bare\nhim up in a chair, and set him down before the table of silver\nwhereupon the Sancgreal was, and it seemed that he had in midst of his\nforehead letters that said, See ye here Joseph the first bishop of\nChristendom, the same which our Lord succoured in the city of Sarras,\nin the spiritual place. Then the knights marvelled, for that bishop was\ndead more than three hundred year tofore. Oh knights, said he, marvel\nnot, for I was sometime an earthly man. With that they heard the\nchamber door open, and there they saw angels, and two bare candles of\nwax, and the third a towel, and the fourth a spear which bled\nmarvellously, that three drops fell within a box which he held with his\nother hand. And they set the candles upon the table, and the third the\ntowel upon the vessel, and the fourth the holy spear even upright upon\nthe vessel. And then the bishop made semblant as though he would have\ngone to the sacring of the mass. And then he took an ubbly, which was\nmade in likeness of bread; and at the lifting up there came a figure in\nlikeness of a child, and the visage was as red and as bright as any\nfire, and smote himself into the bread, so that they all saw it, that\nthe bread was formed of a fleshly man, and then he put it into the holy\nvessel again. And then he did that longed to a priest to do to a mass.\nAnd then he went to Galahad and kissed him, and bad him go and kiss his\nfellows, and so he did anon. Now, said he, servants of Jesu Christ, ye\nshall be fed afore this table with sweet meats, that never knights\ntasted. And when he had said, he vanished away; and they set them at\nthe table in great dread, and made their prayers. Then looked they, and\nsaw a man come out of the holy vessel, that had all the signs of the\npassion of Jesu Christ, bleeding all openly, and said, My knights and\nmy servants and my true children, which be come out of deadly life into\nspiritual life, I will now no longer hide me from you, but ye shall see\nnow a part of my secrets and of my hid things: now hold and receive the\nhigh meat which ye have so much desired. Then took he himself the holy\nvessel, and came to Galahad, and he kneeled down and there he received\nhis Saviour, and after him so received all his fellows; and they\nthought it so sweet that it was marvellous to tell. Then said he to\nGalahad, Son, wotest thou what I hold betwixt my hands? Nay, said he,\nbut if ye will tell me. This is, said he, the holy dish wherein I ate\nthe lamb on Sher-thursday. And now hast thou seen that thou most\ndesiredst to see, but yet hast thou not seen it so openly as thou shalt\nsee it in the city of Sarras, in the spiritual place. Therefore thou\nmust go hence, and bear with thee this holy vessel, for this night it\nshall depart from the realm of Logris, that it shall never be seen more\nhere, and wotest thou wherefore? for he is not served nor worshipped to\nhis right, by them of this land, for they be turned to evil living,\ntherefore I shall disherit them of the honour which I have done them.\nAnd therefore go ye three to-morrow unto the sea, where ye shall find\nyour ship ready, and with you take the sword with the strange girdles,\nand no more with you, but Sir Percivale and Sir Bors. Also I will that\nye take with you of the blood of this spear, for to anoint the maimed\nking, both his legs and all his body, and he shall have his health.\nSir, said Galahad, why shall not these other fellows go with us?\u2014For\nthis cause, for right as I departed mine apostles, one here and another\nthere, so I will that ye depart. And two of you shall die in my\nservice, but one of you shall come again, and tell tidings. Then gave\nhe them his blessing and vanished away.\n_How Galahad anointed with the blood of the spear the maimed king, and\n other adventures._\nAnd Galahad went anon to the spear which lay upon the table, and\ntouched the blood with his fingers, and came after to the maimed king,\nand anointed his legs. And therewith he clothed him anon, and start\nupon his feet out of his bed as an whole man, and thanked our Lord that\nhe had healed him. And that was not to the world-ward, for anon he\nyield him to a place of religion of white monks, and was a full holy\nman. That same night, about midnight came a voice among them, which\nsaid, My sons and not my chieftains, my friends and not my warriors, go\nye hence, where ye hope best to do, and as I bad you.\u2014Ah, thanked be\nthou, Lord, that thou wilt vouchsafe to call us thy sinners. Now may we\nwell prove that we have not lost our pains.\nAnd anon in all haste they took their harness and departed. But the\nthree knights of Gaul, one of them hight Claudine, king Claudas\u2019 son,\nand the other two were great gentlemen. Then prayed Galahad to every\neach of them, that if they come to king Arthur\u2019s court, that they\nshould salute my lord Sir Launcelot my father, and of them of the Round\nTable, and prayed them if that they came on that part that they should\nnot forget it. Right so departed Galahad, Percivale, and Bors with him.\nAnd so they rode three days, and then they came to a rivage, and found\nthe ship whereof the tale speaketh of tofore. And when they came to the\nboard, they found in the midst the table of silver which they had left\nwith the maimed king, and the Sancgreal, which was covered with red\nsamite. Then were they glad to have such things in their fellowship,\nand so they entered, and made great reverence thereto, and Galahad fell\nin his prayer long time to our Lord, that, at what time he asked, that\nhe should pass out of this world: so much he prayed, till a voice said\nto him, Galahad, thou shalt have thy request, and when thou askest the\ndeath of thy body thou shalt have it, and then shalt thou find the life\nof the soul. Percivale heard this, and prayed him of fellowship that\nwas between them, to tell him wherefore he asked such things. That\nshall I tell you, said Galahad: the other day when we saw a part of the\nadventures of the Sancgreal, I was in such a joy of heart that I trow\nnever man was that was earthly, and therefore I wot well when my body\nis dead my soul shall be in great joy to see the blessed Trinity every\nday, and the majesty of our Lord Jesu Christ. So long were they in the\nship that they said to Galahad, Sir, in this bed ought ye to lie, for\nso saith the scripture. And so he laid him down and slept a great\nwhile. And when he awaked he looked afore him, and saw the city of\nSarras. And as they would have landed, they saw the ship wherein\nPercivale had put his sister in. Truly, said Percivale, in the name of\nGod, well hath my sister holden us covenant. Then took they out of the\nship the table of silver, and he took it to Percivale and to Bors to go\ntofore, and Galahad came behind, and right so they went to the city,\nand at the gate of the city they saw an old man crooked. Then Galahad\ncalled him, and bad him help to bear this heavy thing. Truly, said the\nold man, it is ten year ago that I might not go but with crutches. Care\nthou not, said Galahad, and arise up and shew thy good will. And so he\nassayed, and found himself as whole as ever he was. Then ran he to the\ntable, and took one part against Galahad. And anon arose there great\nnoise in the city, that a cripple was made whole by knights marvellous\nthat entered into the city. Then anon after, the three knights went to\nthe water, and brought up into the palace Percivale\u2019s sister, and\nburied her as richly as a king\u2019s daughter ought to be. And when the\nking of the city, which was cleped Estorause, saw the fellowship, he\nasked them of whence they were, and what thing it was that they had\nbrought upon the table of silver. And they told him the truth of the\nSancgreal, and the power which that God had set there. Then the king\nwas a tyrant, and was come of the line of paynims, and took them, and\nput them in prison in a deep hole.\n_How they were fed with the Sangreal while they were in prison, and how\n Galahad was made king._\nBut as soon as they were there, our Lord sent them the Sancgreal,\nthrough whose grace they were alway fulfilled while that they were in\nprison. So at the year\u2019s end it befell that this king Estorause lay\nsick, and felt that he should die. Then he sent for the three knights,\nand they came afore him, and he cried them mercy of that he had done to\nthem, and they forgave it him goodly, and he died anon. When the king\nwas dead, all the city was dismayed, and wist not who might be their\nking. Right so as they were in counsel, there came a voice among them,\nand bad them choose the youngest knight of them three to be their king,\nfor he shall well maintain you and all yours. So they made Galahad king\nby all the assent of the whole city, and else they would have slain\nhim. And when he was come to behold the land, he let make about the\ntable of silver a chest of gold and of precious stones that covered the\nholy vessel, and every day early the three fellows would come afore it\nand make their prayers. Now at the year\u2019s end, and the self day after\nGalahad had borne the crown of gold, he arose up early, and his\nfellows, and came to the palace, and saw tofore them the holy vessel,\nand a man kneeling on his knees, in likeness of a bishop, that had\nabout him a great fellowship of angels, as it had been Jesu Christ\nhimself. And then he arose and began a mass of Our Lady. And when he\ncame to the sacrament of the mass, and had done, anon he called\nGalahad, and said to him, Come forth, the servant of Jesu Christ, and\nthou shalt see that thou hast much desired to see. And then he began to\ntremble right hard, when the deadly flesh began to behold the spiritual\nthings. Then he held up his hands toward heaven, and said, Lord, I\nthank thee, for now I see that that hath been my desire many a day.\nNow, blessed Lord, would I not longer live, if it might please thee\nLord. And therewith the good man took our Lord\u2019s body betwixt his\nhands, and proffered it to Galahad, and he received it right gladly and\nmeekly. Now, wotest thou what I am? said the good man. Nay, said\nGalahad.\u2014I am Joseph of Armathie, which our Lord hath sent here to\nthee to bear thee fellowship. And wotest thou wherefore that he hath\nsent me more than any other? For thou hast resembled me in two things,\nin that thou hast seen the marvels of the Sancgreal, and in that thou\nhast been a clean maiden, as I have been and am. And when he had said\nthese words, Galahad went to Percivale and kissed him, and commanded\nhim to God. And so he went to Sir Bors and kissed him, and commanded\nhim to God, and said, Fair lord, salute me to my lord Sir Launcelot, my\nfather, and as soon as ye see him bid him remember of this unstable\nworld. And therewith he kneeled down tofore the table and made his\nprayers, and then suddenly his soul departed to Jesu Christ, and a\ngreat multitude of angels bare his soul up to heaven, that the two\nfellows might well behold it. Also the two fellows saw come from heaven\nan hand, but they saw not the body; and then it came right to the\nvessel, and took it and the spear, and so bare it up to heaven. Sithen\nwas there never man so hardy to say that he had seen the Sancgreal.\n_Of the sorrow that Percivale and Bors made when Galahad was dead; and\n of Percivale how he died, and other matters._\nWhen Percivale and Bors saw Galahad dead, they made as much sorrow as\never did two men: and if they had not been good men they might lightly\nhave fallen in despair. And the people of the country and of the city\nwere right heavy. And then he was buried. And as soon as he was buried,\nSir Percivale yielded him to an hermitage out of the city, and took a\nreligious clothing; and Bors was alway with him, but never changed he\nhis secular clothing, for that he purposed him to go again into the\nrealm of Logris. Thus a year and two months lived Sir Percivale in the\nhermitage a full holy life, and then passed out of this world. And Bors\nlet bury him by his sister and by Galahad in the spiritualties. When\nBors saw that he was in so far countries as in the parts of Babylon, he\ndeparted from Sarras, and armed him, and came to the sea, and entered\ninto a ship, and so it befell him in good adventure he came into the\nrealm of Logris. And he rode so fast till he came to Camelot where the\nking was. And then was there great joy made of him in the court, for\nthey wend all he had been dead, forasmuch as he had been so long out of\nthe country. And when they had eaten, the king made great clerks to\ncome afore him, that they should chronicle of the high adventures of\nthe good knights. When Bors had told him of the adventures of the\nSancgreal, such as had befallen him and his three fellows, that was\nLauncelot, Percivale, Galahad and himself. There Launcelot told the\nadventures of the Sancgreal that he had seen. All this was made in\ngreat books, and put in almeries at Salisbury. And anon Sir Bors said\nto Sir Launcelot, Galahad your own son saluted you by me, and after you\nking Arthur, and all the court, and so did Sir Percivale: for I buried\nthem with mine own hands in the city of Sarras. Also, Sir Launcelot,\nGalahad prayeth you to remember of this uncertain world, as ye behight\nhim when ye were together more than half a year. This is true, said\nLauncelot; now I trust to God his prayer shall avail me. Then Launcelot\ntook Sir Bors in his arms, and said, Gentle cousin, ye are right\nwelcome to me, and all that ever I may do for you and for yours, ye\nshall find my poor body ready at all times whiles the spirit is in it,\nand that I promise you faithfully, and never to fail. And wit ye well,\ngentle cousin Sir Bors, that ye and I will never depart in sunder\nwhilst our lives may last. Sir, said he, I will as ye will.\nThus endeth thistory of the Sancgreal that was breuely drawen oute of\n Frensshe in to Englysshe, the whiche is a story cronycled for one of\n the truest and the holyest that is in thys world, the which is the\n xvii book.\n And here foloweth the eyghtenth book.\n_Of the joy of king Arthur and the queen had of the achievement of the\n Sangreal; and how Launcelot fell to his old love again._\nSo after the quest of the Sancgreal was fulfilled, and all knights that\nwere left on live were come again unto the Table Round, as the book of\nthe Sancgreal maketh mention, then was there great joy in the court,\nand in especial king Arthur and queen Guenever made great joy of the\nremnant that were come home, and passing glad was the king and the\nqueen of Sir Launcelot and of Sir Bors. For they had been passing long\naway in the quest of the Sancgreal. Then, as the book saith, Sir\nLauncelot began to resort unto queen Guenever again, and forgat the\npromise and the perfection that he made in the quest. For, as the book\nsaith, had not Sir Launcelot been in his privy thoughts and in his mind\nso set inwardly to the queen, as he was in seeming outward to God,\nthere had no knight passed him in the quest of the Sancgreal: but ever\nhis thoughts were privily on the queen, and so they loved together more\nhotter than they did toforehand, that many in the court spake of it,\nand in especial Sir Agravaine, Sir Gawaine\u2019s brother, for he was ever\nopen mouthed. So befell that Sir Launcelot had many resorts of ladies\nand damsels, that daily resorted unto him, that besought him to be\ntheir champion. And in all such matters of right Sir Launcelot appealed\nhim daily to do for the pleasure of our Lord Jesu Christ. And ever as\nmuch as he might he withdrew him from the company and fellowship of\nqueen Guenever, for to eschew the slander and noise: wherefore the\nqueen waxed wroth with Sir Launcelot, and upon a day she called Sir\nLauncelot unto her chamber, and said thus: Sir Launcelot, I see and\nfeel daily that thy love beginneth to slake, for thou hast no joy to be\nin my presence, but ever thou art out of this court, and quarrels and\nmatters thou hast now adays for ladies and gentlewomen, more than ever\nthou were wont to have aforehand. Ah, madam, said Launcelot, in this ye\nmust hold me excused for divers causes. One is, I was but late in the\nquest of the Sancgreal, and I thank God, of his great mercy, and never\nof my deserving, that I saw in that my quest as much as ever saw any\nsinful man, and so was it told me. And if I had not had my privy\nthoughts to return to your love again as I do, I had seen as great\nmysteries as ever saw my son Galahad, or Percivale, or Sir Bors, and\ntherefore, madam, I was but late in that quest. Wit ye well, madam, it\nmay not be yet lightly forgotten the high service in whom I did my\ndiligent labour. Also, madam, wit ye well that there be many men speak\nof our love in this court, and have you and me greatly in a wait, as\nSir Agravaine, and Sir Mordred: and, madam, wit ye well, I dread them\nmore for your sake than for any fear that I have of them myself, for I\nmay happen to escape and rid myself in a great need, where ye must\nabide all that will be said unto you. And then if that ye fall in any\ndistress through wilful folly, then is there none other remedy or help\nbut by me and my blood. And wit ye well, madam, the boldness of you and\nme will bring us to great shame and slander, and that were me loth to\nsee you dishonoured. And that is the cause that I take upon me more for\nto do for damsels and maidens than ever I did tofore, that men should\nunderstand my joy and my delight is my pleasure to have ado for damsels\nand maidens.\n_How the queen commanded Sir Launcelot to avoid the court, and of the\n sorrow that Launcelot made._\nAll this while the queen stood still, and let Sir Launcelot say what he\nwould. And when he had all said, she brast out on weeping, and so she\nsobbed and wept a great while: and when she might speak, she said,\nLauncelot, now I well understand that thou art a false recreant knight,\nand lovest and holdest other ladies, and by me thou hast disdain and\nscorn. For wit thou well, she said, now I understand thy falsehood, and\ntherefore shall I never love thee no more, and never be thou so hardy\nto come in my sight; and right here I discharge thee this court, that\nthou never come within it, and I forfend thee my fellowship, and upon\npain of thy head that thou see me no more. Right so Sir Launcelot\ndeparted with great heaviness, that hardly he might sustain himself for\ngreat dole making. Then he called Sir Bors, Sir Ector de Maris, and Sir\nLionel, and told them how the queen had forfend him the court, and so\nhe was in will to depart into his own country. Fair sir, said Sir Bors\nde Ganis, ye shall not depart out of this land by mine advice; ye must\nremember in what honour ye are renowned, and called the noblest knight\nof the world, and many great matters ye have in hand, and women in\ntheir hastiness will do oftimes that sore repenteth them, and therefore\nby mine advice ye shall take your horse, and ride to the good hermitage\nhere beside Windsor, that sometime was a good knight, his name is Sir\nBrasias, and there shall ye abide till I send you word of better\ntidings. Brother, said Sir Launcelot, wit ye well I am full loth to\ndepart out of this realm, but the queen hath defended me so highly that\nme seemeth she will never be my good lady as she hath been. Say ye\nnever so, said Sir Bors, for many times or this time she hath been\nwroth with you, and after it she was the first that repented it. Ye say\nwell, said Launcelot, for now will I do by your counsel, and take mine\nhorse and my harness, and ride to the hermit Sir Brasias, and there\nwill I repose me until I hear some manner of tidings from you. But,\nfair brother, I pray you get me the love of my lady queen Guenever, and\nye may. Sir, said Sir Bors, ye need not to move me of such matters, for\nwell ye wot I will do what I may to please you. And then the noble\nknight Sir Launcelot departed with right heavy cheer, suddenly, that\nnone earthly creature wist of him, nor where he was become, but Sir\nBors. So when Sir Launcelot was departed, the queen made no manner of\nsorrow in shewing, to none of his blood, nor to none other: but, wit ye\nwell, inwardly, as the book saith, she took great thought, but she bare\nit out with a proud countenance, as though she felt nothing nor danger.\n_How at a dinner that the queen made there was a knight poisoned, which\n Sir Mador laid on the queen._\nAnd then the queen let make a privy dinner in London unto the knights\nof the Round Table. And all was for to show outward that she had as\ngreat joy in all other knights of the Table Round as she had in Sir\nLauncelot. All only at that dinner she had Sir Gawaine and his\nbrethren, that is to say, Sir Agravaine, Sir Gaheris, Sir Gareth, and\nSir Mordred. Also there was Sir Bors de Ganis, Sir Blamor de Ganis, Sir\nBleoberis de Ganis, Sir Galihud, Sir Galihodin, Sir Ector de Maris, Sir\nLionel, Sir Palamides, Sir Safere his brother, Sir La Cote Male Taile,\nSir Persant, Sir Ironside, Sir Brandiles, Sir Kay le Seneschal, Sir\nMador de la Porte, Sir Patrise, a knight of Ireland, Aliduk, Sir\nAstomore, and Sir Pinel le Savage, the which was cousin to Sir Lamorak\nde Galis, the good knight that Sir Gawaine and his brethren slew by\ntreason. And so these four and twenty knights should dine with the\nqueen in a privy place by themselves, and there was made a great feast\nof all manner of dainties. But Sir Gawaine had a custom that he used\ndaily at dinner and at supper, that he loved well all manner of fruit,\nand in especial apples and pears. And therefore, whosoever dined or\nfeasted Sir Gawaine would commonly purvey for good fruit for him; and\nso did the queen for to please Sir Gawaine, she let purvey for him of\nall manner of fruit, for Sir Gawaine was a passing hot knight of\nnature. And this Pinel hated Sir Gawaine because of his kinsman Sir\nLamorak de Galis, and therefore for pure envy and hate Sir Pinel\nenpoisoned certain apples, for to enpoison Sir Gawaine. And so this was\nwell unto the end of the meat: and so it befell by misfortune a good\nknight named Patrise, cousin unto Sir Mador de la Porte, to take a\npoisoned apple. And when he had eaten it he swelled so till he brast,\nand there Sir Patrise fell down suddenly dead among them. Then every\nknight lept from the board ashamed and araged for wrath, nigh out of\ntheir wits. For they wist not what to say: considering queen Guenever\nmade the feast and dinner, they all had suspicion unto her. My lady,\nthe queen, said Gawaine, wit ye well, madam, that this dinner was made\nfor me: for all folks that know my conditions understand that I love\nwell fruit, and now I see well I had near been slain; therefore, madam,\nI dread lest ye will be shamed. Then the queen stood still, and was\nsore abashed, that he nist not what to say. This shall not so be ended,\nsaid Sir Mador de la Porte, for here have I lost a full noble knight of\nmy blood, and therefore upon this shame and despite I will be revenged\nto the utterance. And there openly Sir Mador appealed the queen of the\ndeath of his cousin Sir Patrise. Then stood they all still, that none\nof them would speak a word against him. For they had a great suspicion\nunto the queen because she let make that dinner. And the queen was so\nabashed that she could none other ways do but wept so heartily that she\nfell in a swoon. With this noise and cry came to them king Arthur. And\nwhen he wist of that trouble, he was a passing heavy man.\n_How Sir Mador appeached the queen of treason, and there was no knight\n would fight for her at the first time._\nAnd ever Sir Mador stood still afore the king, and ever he appealed the\nqueen of treason: for the custom was such that time that all manner of\nshameful death was called treason. Fair lords, said king Arthur, me\nrepenteth of this trouble, but the case is so I may not have ado in\nthis matter, for I must be a rightful judge, and that repenteth me that\nI may not do battle for my wife: for, as I deem, this deed came never\nby her, and therefore I suppose she shall not be all distained, but\nthat some good knight shall put his body in jeopardy, rather than she\nshall be burnt in a wrong quarrel. And therefore, Sir Mador, be not so\nhasty, for it may happen she shall not be all friendless, and therefore\ndesire thou thy day of battle, and she shall purvey her of some good\nknight that shall answer you, or else it were to me great shame, and to\nall my court. My gracious lord, said Sir Mador, ye must hold me\nexcused, for though ye be our king in that degree, ye are but a knight\nas we are, and ye are sworn unto knighthood as well as we, and\ntherefore I beseech you that ye be not displeased. For there is none of\nthe four and twenty knights that were bidden to this dinner but all\nthey have great suspicion unto the queen. What say ye all, my lords?\nsaid Sir Mador. Then they answered by and by that they could not excuse\nthe queen, for why she made the dinner, and either it must come by her\nor by her servants. Alas, said the queen, I made this dinner for a good\nintent, and never for none evil; so Almighty God help me in my right as\nI was never purposed to do such evil deeds, and that I report me unto\nGod. My lord the king, said Sir Mador, I require you, as ye be a\nrighteous king, give me a day that I may have justice. Well, said the\nking, I give the day this day fifteen days, that thou be ready armed on\nhorseback in the meadow beside Westminster. And if it so fall that\nthere be any knight to encounter with you, there mayest thou do the\nbest, and God speed the right. And if it so fall that there be no\nknight at that day, then must my queen be burnt, and there shall she be\nready to have her judgment. I am answered, said Sir Mador; and every\nknight went where it liked him. So when the king and the queen were\ntogether, the king asked the queen how this case befell? The queen\nanswered, So God me help I wot not how, nor in what manner. Where is\nSir Launcelot? said king Arthur, and he were here, he would not grudge\nto do battle for you. Sir, said the queen, I wot not where he is, but\nhis brother and his kinsmen deem that he is not within this realm. That\nme repenteth, said king Arthur, for and he were here he would soon\nstint this strife. Then I will counsel you, said the king, and unto Sir\nBors\u2014That ye will do battle for her for Sir Launcelot\u2019s sake,\u2014and\nupon my life he will not refuse you. For well I see, said the king,\nthat none of these four and twenty knights that were with you at your\ndinner, where Sir Patrise was slain, will do battle for you, nor none\nof them will say well of you, and that shall be great slander for you\nin this court. Alas, said the queen, and I may not do withal, but now I\nmiss Sir Launcelot, for and he were here he would put me soon to my\nheart\u2019s ease. What aileth you, said the king, ye cannot keep Sir\nLauncelot on your side? For, wit ye well, said the king, who that hath\nSir Launcelot upon his party hath the most man of worship in the world\nupon his side. Now go your way, said the king unto the queen, and\nrequire Sir Bors to do battle for you for Sir Launcelot\u2019s sake.\n_How the queen required Sir Bors to fight for her, and how he granted\n upon condition; and how he warned Sir Launcelot thereof._\nSo the queen departed from the king, and sent for Sir Bors into her\nchamber. And when he was come, she besought him of succour. Madam, said\nhe, what would ye that I did, for I may not with my worship have ado in\nthis matter, because I was at the same dinner, for dread that any of\nthose knights would have me in suspicion. Also madam, said Sir Bors,\nnow miss ye Sir Launcelot, for he would not have failed you neither in\nright nor in wrong, as ye have well proved when ye have been in danger,\nand now ye have driven him out of this country, by whom ye and all we\nwere daily worshipped by. Therefore, madam, I marvel me how ye dare for\nshame require me to do any thing for you, in so much ye have chased him\nout of your country, by whom we were borne up and honoured. Alas, fair\nknight, said the queen, I put me wholly in your grace, and all that is\ndone amiss I will amend as ye will counsel me. And therewith she\nkneeled down upon both her knees, and besought Sir Bors to have mercy\nupon her,\u2014or I shall have a shameful death, and thereto I never\noffended. Right so came king Arthur, and found the queen kneeling afore\nSir Bors. Then Sir Bors pulled her up, and said, Madam, ye do to me\ngreat dishonour. Ah, gentle knight, said the king, have mercy upon my\nqueen, courteous knight, for I am now in certain she is untruly\ndefamed. And therefore, courteous knight, said the king, promise her to\ndo battle for her: I require you, for the love of Sir Launcelot. My\nlord, said Sir Bors, ye require me the greatest thing that any man may\nrequire me; and wit ye well, if I grant to do battle for the queen I\nshall wrath many of my fellowship of the Table Round; but as for that,\nsaid Bors, I will grant my lord, for my lord Sir Launcelot\u2019s sake, and\nfor your sake, I will at that day be the queen\u2019s champion, unless that\nthere come by adventure a better knight than I am to do battle for her.\nWill ye promise me this, said the king, by your faith? Yea sir, said\nSir Bors, of that will I not fail you, nor her both, but if that there\ncome a better knight than I am, and then shall he have the battle. Then\nwas the king and the queen passing glad, and so departed, and thanked\nhim heartily. So then Sir Bors departed secretly upon a day, and rode\nunto Sir Launcelot, there as he was with the hermit Sir Brasias, and\ntold him of all their adventure. Ah, said Sir Launcelot, this is come\nhappily as I would have it, and therefore I pray you make you ready to\ndo battle, but look that ye tarry till ye see me come, as long as ye\nmay. For I am sure Mador is an hot knight, when he is enchafed, for the\nmore ye suffer him, the hastier will he be to battle. Sir, said Bors,\nlet me deal with him; doubt ye not ye shall have all your will. Then\ndeparted Sir Bors from him, and came to the court again. Then was it\nnoised in all the court that Sir Bors should do battle for the queen:\nwherefore many knights were displeased with him, that he would take\nupon him to do battle in the queen\u2019s quarrel, for there were but few\nknights in the court but they deemed the queen was in the wrong, and\nthat she had done that treason. So Sir Bors answered thus unto his\nfellows of the Table Round: Wit ye well, my fair lords, it were shame\nto us all, and we suffered to see the most noble queen of the world to\nbe shamed openly, considering her lord and our lord is the man of most\nworship in the world, and most christened, and he hath ever worshipped\nus all, in all places. Many answered him again:\u2014As for our most noble\nking Arthur, we love him and honour him as well as ye do; but as for\nqueen Guenever we love her not, because she is a destroyer of good\nknights. Fair lords, said Sir Bors, me seemeth ye say not as ye should\nsay, for never yet in my days knew I never, nor heard say, that ever\nshe was a destroyer of any good knight: but at all times, as far as I\never could know, she was always a maintainer of good knights, and\nalways she hath been large and free of her goods to all good knights,\nand the most bounteous lady of her gifts and her good grace that ever I\nsaw or heard speak of. And therefore it were shame, said Sir Bors, to\nus all to our most noble king\u2019s wife, and we suffered her to be\nshamefully slain. And wit ye well, said Sir Bors, I will not suffer it,\nfor I dare say so much, the queen is not guilty of Sir Patrise\u2019s death,\nfor she owed him never none ill will, nor none of the four and twenty\nknights that were at that dinner; for I dare say for good love she bad\nus to dinner, and not for no mal-engine; and that I doubt not shall be\nproved hereafter: for howsoever the game goeth, there was treason among\nus. Then some said to Sir Bors, We may well believe your words. And so\nsome of them were well pleased, and some were not so.\n_How at the day Sir Bors made him ready for to fight for the queen; and\n when he should fight how another discharged him._\nThe day came on fast until the even that the battle should be. Then the\nqueen sent for Sir Bors, and asked him how he was disposed. Truly\nmadam, said he, I am disposed in likewise as I promised you; that is\nfor to say, I shall not fail you, unless by adventure there come a\nbetter knight than I am, to do the battle for you: then, madam, am I\ndischarged of my promise. Will ye, said the queen, that I tell my lord\nArthur thus? Do as it shall please you, madam. Then the queen went unto\nthe king, and told him the answer of Sir Bors. Have ye no doubt, said\nthe king, of Sir Bors, for I call him now one of the best knights of\nthe world, and the most profitablest man. And thus it past on until the\nmorn. And the king and the queen, and all manner of knights that were\nthere at that time, drew them unto the meadow beside Westminster, where\nthe battle should be. And so when the king was come with the queen, and\nmany knights of the Round Table, then the queen was put there in the\nconstable\u2019s ward, and a great fire made about an iron stake, that, and\nSir Mador de la Porte had the better, she should be burnt. Such custom\nwas used in those days, that neither for favour, neither for love, nor\naffinity, there should be none other but righteous judgment, as well\nupon a king as upon a knight, and as well upon a queen as upon another\npoor lady. So in this meanwhile came in Sir Mador de la Porte, and took\nhis oath afore the king, That the queen did this treason until his\ncousin Sir Patrise, and unto his oath he would prove it with his body,\nhand for hand, who that would say the contrary. Right so came in Sir\nBors de Ganis, and said, that as for queen Guenever, she is in the\nright, and that will I make good with my hands, that she is not\nculpable of this treason that is put upon her. Then make thee ready,\nsaid Sir Mador, and we shall prove whether thou be in the right or I.\nSir Mador, said Sir Bors, wit thou well I know you for a good knight:\nnot for then I shall not fear so greatly, but I trust to God I shall be\nable to withstand your malice: but thus much have I promised my lord\nArthur, and my lady the queen, that I shall do battle for her in this\ncase to the uttermost, unless that there come a better knight than I\nam, and discharge me. Is that all, said Sir Mador, either come thou off\nand do battle with me, or else say nay. Take your horse, said Sir Bors,\nand, as I suppose, ye shall not tarry long, but ye shall be answered.\nThen either departed to their tents, and made them ready to horseback\nas they thought best. And anon Sir Mador came into the field with his\nshield on his shoulder, and his spear in his hand. And so rode about\nthe place, crying unto king Arthur, Bid your champion come forth and he\ndare! Then was Sir Bors ashamed, and took his horse and came to the\nlists\u2019 end. And then was he ware where came from a wood there fast by a\nknight, all armed upon a white horse, with a strange shield of strange\narms, and he came riding all that he might run. And so he came to Sir\nBors, and said, Fair knight, I pray you be not displeased, for here\nmust a better knight than ye are have this battle; therefore I pray you\nwithdraw you. For wit ye well I have had this day a right great\njourney, and this battle ought to be mine, and so I promised you when I\nspake with you last, and with all my heart I thank you of your good\nwill. Then Sir Bors rode unto king Arthur, and told him how there was a\nknight come that would have the battle for to fight for the queen. What\nknight is he? said the king. I wot not, said Sir Bors, but such\ncovenant he made with me to be here this day. Now my lord, said Sir\nBors, here am I discharged.\n_How Sir Launcelot fought against Sir Mador for the queen, and how he\n overcame Sir Mador and discharged the queen._\nThen the king called to that knight, and asked him if he would fight\nfor the queen. Then he answered to the king, Therefore came I hither,\nand therefore, Sir king, he said, tarry me no longer, for I may not\ntarry. For anon as I have finished this battle I must depart hence, for\nI have ado many matters elsewhere. For wit you well, said that knight,\nthis is dishonour to you all knights of the Round Table, to see and\nknow so noble a lady, and so courteous a queen, as queen Guenever is,\nthus to be rebuked and shamed amongst you. Then they all marvelled what\nknight that might be that so took the battle upon him, for there was\nnot one that knew him, but if it were Sir Bors. Then said Sir Mador de\nla Porte unto the king, Now let me wit with whom I shall have ado\nwithal. And then they rode to the lists\u2019 end, and there they couched\ntheir spears, and ran together with all their mights. And Sir Mador\u2019s\nspear brake all to pieces, but the other\u2019s spear held, and bare Sir\nMador\u2019s horse and all backward to the earth a great fall. But mightily\nand suddenly he avoided his horse, and put his shield afore him, and\nthen drew his sword, and bad the other knight alight and do battle with\nhim on foot. Then that knight descended from his horse lightly like a\nvaliant man, and put his shield afore him, and drew his sword, and so\nthey came eagerly unto battle, and either gave other many great\nstrokes, tracing and traversing, rasing and foining, and hurtling\ntogether with their swords, as it were wild boars. Thus were they\nfighting nigh an hour, for this Sir Mador was a strong knight, and\nmightily proved in many strong battles. But at last this knight smote\nSir Mador groveling upon the earth, and the knight stept near him to\nhave pulled Sir Mador flatling upon the ground; and therewith suddenly\nSir Mador arose, and in his rising he smote that knight through the\nthick of the thighs, that the blood ran out fiercely. And when he felt\nhimself so wounded, and saw his blood, he let him arise upon his feet;\nand then he gave him such a buffet upon the helm that he fell to the\nearth flatling, and therewith he strode to him for to have pulled off\nhis helm off his head. And then Sir Mador prayed that knight to save\nhis life, and so he yielded him as overcome, and released the queen of\nhis quarrel. I will not grant thee thy life, said that knight, only\nthat thou freely release the queen for ever, and that no mention be\nmade upon Sir Patrise\u2019s tomb that ever queen Guenever consented to that\ntreason. All this shall be done, said Sir Mador, I clearly discharge my\nquarrel for ever. Then the knights parters of the lists took up Sir\nMador and led him to his tent. And the other knight went straight to\nthe stair foot where sat king Arthur, and by that time was the queen\ncome to the king, and either kissed other heartily. And when the king\nsaw that knight, he stooped down to him and thanked him, and in\nlikewise did the queen: and the king prayed him to put off his helmet,\nand to repose him, and to take a sop of wine, and then he put off his\nhelm to drink, and then every knight knew him that it was Sir Launcelot\ndu Lake. Anon as the king wist that, he took the queen in his hand, and\nwent unto Sir Launcelot, and said, Sir, grant mercy of your great\ntravail that ye have had this day for me and for my queen. My lord,\nsaid Sir Launcelot, wit ye well I ought of right ever to be in your\nquarrel, and in my lady the queen\u2019s quarrel to do battle, for ye are\nthe man that gave me the high honour of knighthood, and that day my\nlady your queen did me great worship, and else I had been shamed; for\nthat same day ye made me knight through my hastiness I lost my sword,\nand my lady your queen found it, and lapped it in her train, and gave\nme my sword when I had need thereto, and else had I been shamed among\nall knights. And therefore, my lord Arthur, I promised her at that day\never to be her knight in right or in wrong. Grant mercy, said king\nArthur, for this journey, and wit ye well, said the king, I shall\nacquit your goodness. And ever the queen beheld Sir Launcelot, and wept\nso tenderly that she sank almost to the ground for sorrow that he had\ndone to her so great goodness, where she shewed him great unkindness.\nThen the knights of his blood drew unto him, and there either of them\nmade great joy of other. And so came all the knights of the Table Round\nthat were there at that time, and welcomed him. And then Sir Mador was\nhad to leech-craft, and Sir Launcelot was healed of his wound. And then\nthere was made great joy and mirths in that court.\n_How the truth was known by the maiden of the lake, and of divers other\n matters._\nAnd so it befell that the damsel of the lake, her name was Nimue, the\nwhich wedded the good knight Sir Pelleas, and so she came to the court,\nfor ever she did great goodness unto king Arthur, and to all his\nknights, through her sorcery and enchantments. And so when she heard\nhow the queen was an angered for the death of Sir Patrise, then she\ntold it openly that she was never guilty, and there she disclosed by\nwhom it was done, and named him Sir Pinel, and for what cause he did\nit. There it was openly disclosed, and so the queen was excused, and\nthe knight Pinel fled into his country. Then was it openly known that\nSir Pinel enpoisoned the apples at the feast, to that intent to have\ndestroyed Sir Gawaine, because Sir Gawaine and his brethren destroyed\nSir Lamorak de Galis, to the which Sir Pinel was cousin unto. Then was\nSir Patrise buried in the church of Westminster, in a tomb, and\nthereupon was written, Here lieth Sir Patrise of Ireland, slain by Sir\nPinel le Savage, that enpoisoned apples to have slain Sir Gawaine, and\nby misfortune Sir Patrise eat one of those apples, and then suddenly he\nbrast. Also there was written upon the tomb, that queen Guenever was\nappealed of treason of the death of Sir Patrise by Sir Mador de la\nPorte, and there was made mention how Sir Launcelot fought with him for\nqueen Guenever, and overcame him in plain battle. All this was written\nupon the tomb of Sir Patrise, in excusing of the queen. And then Sir\nMador sued daily and long to have the queen\u2019s good grace. And so by the\nmeans of Sir Launcelot he caused him to stand in the queen\u2019s grace, and\nall was forgiven. Thus it passed forth till our Lady day, Assumption.\nWithin a fifteen days of that feast the king let cry a great justs and\na tournament that should be at that day at Camelot, that is Winchester.\nAnd the king let cry that he and the king of Scots would just against\nall that would come against them. And when this cry was made, thither\ncame many knights. So there came thither the king of Northgalis, and\nking Anguish of Ireland, and the king with the hundred knights, and Sir\nGalahalt the haut prince, and the king of Northumberland, and many\nother noble dukes and earls of divers countries. So king Arthur made\nhim ready to depart to these justs, and would have had the queen with\nhim: but at that time she would not, she said, for she was sick and\nmight not ride at that time. That me repenteth, said the king, for this\nseven year ye saw not such a fellowship together, except at Whitsuntide\nwhen Galahad departed from the court. Truly, said the queen to the\nking, ye must hold me excused. I may not be there, and that me\nrepenteth. And many deemed the queen would not be there because of Sir\nLauncelot du Lake, for Sir Launcelot would not ride with the king; for\nhe said that he was not whole of the wound the which Sir Mador had\ngiven him. Wherefore the king was heavy and passing wroth, and so he\ndeparted towards Winchester with his fellowship. And so by the way the\nking lodged in a town called Astolat, that is now in English called\nGilford, and there the king lay in the castle. So when the king was\ndeparted, the queen called Sir Launcelot unto her, and said, Sir\nLauncelot ye are greatly to blame, thus to hold you behind my lord:\nwhat trow ye, what will your enemies and mine say and deem? nought else\nbut see how Sir Launcelot holdeth him ever behind the king, and so doth\nthe queen, for that they would be together; and thus will they say,\nsaid the queen to Sir Launcelot, have ye no doubt thereof.\n_How Sir Launcelot rode to Astolat, and received a sleeve to bear upon\n his helm at the request of a maid._\nMadam, said Sir Launcelot, I allow your wit, it is of late come sin ye\nwere wise, and therefore, madam, as at this time I will be ruled by\nyour counsel, and this night I will take my rest, and to-morrow by time\nwill take my way toward Winchester. But wit you well, said Sir\nLauncelot to the queen, that at that justs I will be against the king\nand all his fellowship. Ye may there do as ye list, said the queen, but\nby my counsel ye shall not be against your king and your fellowship,\nfor therein be full many hardy knights of your blood, as ye wot well\nenough, it needeth not to rehearse them. Madam, said Sir Launcelot, I\npray you that ye be not displeased with me, for I will take the\nadventure that God will send me. And so upon the morn early Sir\nLauncelot heard mass, and brake his fast, and so took his leave of the\nqueen, and departed. And then he rode so much until he came to Astolat,\nthat is Gilford; and there it happed him in the eventide he came to an\nold baron\u2019s place, that hight Sir Bernard of Astolat. And as Sir\nLauncelot entered into his lodging, king Arthur espied him as he did\nwalk in a garden beside the castle, how he took his lodging, and knew\nhim full well. It is well, said king Arthur unto the knights that were\nwith him in that garden beside the castle, I have now espied one knight\nthat will play his play at the justs to the which we be gone toward, I\nundertake he will do marvels. Who is that, we pray you tell us, said\nmany knights that were there at that time. Ye shall not wit for me,\nsaid the king, at this time. And so the king smiled, and went to his\nlodging. So when Sir Launcelot was in his lodging, and unarmed him in\nhis chamber, the old baron and hermit came unto him, making his\nreverence, and welcomed him in the best manner; but the old knight knew\nnot Sir Launcelot. Fair sir, said Sir Launcelot to his host, I would\npray you to lend me a shield that were not openly known, for mine is\nwell known. Sir, said his host, ye shall have your desire, for me\nseemeth ye be one of the likeliest knights of the world, and therefore\nI shall shew you friendship. Sir, wit you well I have two sons which\nwere but late made knights, and the eldest hight Sir Tirre, and he was\nhurt that same day that he was made knight, that he may not ride, and\nhis shield ye shall have, for that is not known, I dare say, but here\nand in no place else. And my youngest son hight Sir Lavaine, and if it\nplease you he shall ride with you unto that justs, and he is of his age\nstrong and wight. For much my heart giveth unto you that ye should be a\nnoble knight, therefore, I pray you tell me your name, said Sir\nBernard. As for that, said Sir Launcelot, ye must hold me excused as at\nthis time, and if God give me grace to speed well at the justs I shall\ncome again and tell you. But I pray you, said Sir Launcelot, in any\nwise let me have your son Sir Lavaine with me, and that I may have his\nbrother\u2019s shield. Also this shall be done, said Sir Bernard.\nThis old baron had a daughter that time that was called that time the\nfair maid of Astolat. And ever she beheld Sir Launcelot wonderfully.\nAnd, as the book saith, she cast such a love unto Sir Launcelot that\nshe could never withdraw her love, wherefore she died; and her name was\nElaine le Blank. So thus as she came to and fro, she was so hot in her\nlove that she besought Sir Launcelot to wear upon him at the justs a\ntoken of hers. Fair damsel, said Sir Launcelot, and if I grant you\nthat, ye may say I do more for your love than ever I did for lady or\ndamsel. Then he remembered him that he would go to the justs disguised,\nand for because he had never afore that time borne no manner of token\nof no damsel, then he bethought him that he would bear one of her, that\nnone of his blood thereby might know him. And then he said, Fair\nmaiden, I will grant you to wear a token of yours upon my helmet, and\ntherefore what it is shew it me. Sir, she said, it is a red sleeve of\nmine, of scarlet well embroidered with great pearls. And so she brought\nit him. So Sir Launcelot received it and said, Never did I erst so much\nfor no damsel. And then Sir Launcelot betook the fair maiden his shield\nin keeping, and prayed her to keep that until that he came again. And\nso that night he had merry rest and great cheer. For ever the damsel\nElaine was about Sir Launcelot, all the while she might be suffered.\n_How the tourney began at Winchester, and what knights were at the\n justs, and other things._\nSo upon a day on the morn, king Arthur and all his knights departed;\nfor their king had tarried there three days to abide his noble knights.\nAnd so when the king was riden, Sir Launcelot and Sir Lavaine made them\nready for to ride, and either of them had white shields, and the red\nsleeve Sir Launcelot let carry with him. And so they took their leave\nat Sir Bernard the old baron, and at his daughter the fair maiden of\nAstolat. And then they rode so long till they came to Camelot, that\ntime called Winchester. And there was great press of kings, dukes,\nearls, and barons, and many noble knights. But there Sir Launcelot was\nlodged privily, by the means of Sir Lavaine, with a rich burgess, that\nno man in that town was ware what they were. And so they sojourned\nthere till our Lady day, Assumption, as the great feast should be. So\nthen trumpets blew unto the field, and king Arthur was set on high upon\na scaffold, to behold who did best. But, as the French book saith, king\nArthur would not suffer Sir Gawaine to go from him, for never had Sir\nGawaine the better and Sir Launcelot were in the field; and many times\nwas Sir Gawaine rebuked when Launcelot came into any justs disguised.\nThen some of the kings, as king Anguish of Ireland and the king of\nScotland, were that time turned upon the side of king Arthur. And then\non the other party was the king of Northgalis, and the king with the\nhundred knights, and the king of Northumberland, and Sir Galahalt the\nhaut prince. But these three kings and this duke were passing weak to\nhold against king Arthur\u2019s party: for with him were the noblest knights\nof the world. So then they withdrew them either party from other, and\nevery man made him ready in his best manner to do what he might. Then\nSir Launcelot made him ready, and put the red sleeve upon his head, and\nfastened it fast; and so Sir Launcelot and Sir Lavaine departed out of\nWinchester privily, and rode until a little leaved wood, behind the\nparty that held against king Arthur\u2019s party, and there they held them\nstill till the parties smote together. And then came in the king of\nScots and the king of Ireland on Arthur\u2019s party: and against them came\nthe king of Northumberland; and the king with the hundred knights smote\ndown the king of Northumberland, and the king with the hundred knights\nsmote down king Anguish of Ireland. Then Sir Palamides, that was on\nArthur\u2019s party, encountered with Sir Galahalt, and either of them smote\ndown other, and either party halp their lords on horseback again. So\nthere began a strong assail upon both parties. And then there came in\nSir Brandiles, Sir Sagramor le Desirous, Sir Dodinas le Savage, Sir Kay\nle Seneschal, Sir Griflet le Fise de Dieu, Sir Mordred, Sir Meliot de\nLogris, Sir Ozanna le Cure Hardy, Sir Safere, Sir Epinogris, and Sir\nGalleron of Galway. All these fifteen knights were knights of the Table\nRound. So these with more others came in together, and beat on back the\nking of Northumberland, and the king of North Wales. When Sir Launcelot\nsaw this, as he hoved in a little leaved wood, then he said unto Sir\nLavaine, See yonder is a company of good knights, and they hold them\ntogether as boars that were chafed with dogs. That is truth, said Sir\nLavaine.\n_How Sir Launcelot and Sir Lavaine entered in the field against them of\n king Arthur\u2019s court, and how Launcelot was hurt._\nNow, said Sir Launcelot, and ye will help me a little, ye shall see\nyonder fellowship which chaseth now these men in our side, that they\nshall go as fast backward as they went forward. Sir, spare not, said\nSir Lavaine, for I shall do what I may. Then Sir Launcelot and Sir\nLavaine came in at the thickest of the press, and there Sir Launcelot\nsmote down Sir Brandiles, Sir Sagramor. Sir Dodinas, Sir Kay, Sir\nGriflet, and all this he did with one spear. And Sir Lavaine smote down\nSir Lucan le Buttelere, and Sir Bedivere. And then Sir Launcelot gat\nanother spear, and there he smote down Sir Agravaine, Sir Gaheris, and\nSir Mordred, and Sir Meliot de Logris. And Sir Lavaine smote down\nOzanna le Cure Hardy: and then Sir Launcelot drew his sword, and there\nhe smote on the right hand and on the left hand, and by great force he\nunhorsed Sir Safere, Sir Epinogris, and Sir Galleron. And then the\nknights of the Table Round withdrew them aback, after they had gotten\ntheir horses as well as they might. O mercy, said Sir Gawaine, what\nknight is yonder, that doth so marvellous deeds of arms in that field?\nI wot what he is, said king Arthur. But as at this time I will not name\nhim. Sir, said Sir Gawaine, I would say it were Sir Launcelot, by his\nriding and his buffets that I see him deal: but ever me seemeth it\nshould not be he, for that he beareth the red sleeve upon his head, for\nI wist him never bear token, at no justs, of lady nor gentlewoman. Let\nhim be said king Arthur, he will be better known and do more or ever he\ndepart. Then the party that were against king Arthur were well\ncomforted, and then they held them together, that beforehand were sore\nrebuked. Then Sir Bors, Sir Ector de Maris, and Sir Lionel, called unto\nthem the knights of their blood, as Sir Blamor de Ganis, Sir Bleoberis,\nSir Aliduke, Sir Galihud, Sir Galihodin, Sir Bellangere le Beuse, so\nthese nine knights of Sir Launcelot\u2019s kin thrust in mightily, for they\nwere all noble knights. And they, of great hate and despite that they\nhad unto him, thought to rebuke that noble knight Sir Launcelot, and\nSir Lavaine, for they knew them not. And so they came hurtling\ntogether, and smote down many knights of Northgalis and of\nNorthumberland. And when Sir Launcelot saw them fare so, he gat a spear\nin his hand, and there encountered with him all at once Sir Bors, Sir\nEctor, and Sir Lionel, and all they three smote him at once with their\nspears. And with force of themselves they smote Sir Launcelot\u2019s horse\nto the earth. And by misfortune Sir Bors smote Sir Launcelot through\nthe shield into the side, and the spear brake, and the head left still\nin his side. When Sir Lavaine saw his master lie on the ground, he ran\nto the king of Scots, and smote him to the earth, and by great force he\ntook his horse and brought him to Sir Launcelot, and maugre them all he\nmade him to mount upon that horse. And then Launcelot gat a spear in\nhis hand, and there he smote Sir Bors horse and man to the earth, in\nthe same wise he served Sir Ector and Sir Lionel, and Sir Lavaine smote\ndown Sir Blamor de Ganis. And then Sir Launcelot drew his sword, for he\nfelt himself so sore and hurt that he wend there to have had his death.\nAnd then he smote Sir Bleoberis such a buffet on the helmet that he\nfell down to the earth in a swoon. And in the same wise he served Sir\nAliduke and Sir Galihud. And Sir Lavaine smote down Sir Bellangere,\nthat was the son of Alisander le Orphelin. And by this was Sir Bors\nhorsed, and then he came with Sir Ector and Sir Lionel, and all they\nthree smote with swords upon Sir Launcelot\u2019s helmet. And when he felt\ntheir buffets, and his wound the which was so grievous, then he thought\nto do what he might while he might endure; and then he gave Sir Bors\nsuch a buffet that he made him bow his head passing low, and\ntherewithal he rased off his helm, and might have slain him, and so\npulled him down. And in the same wise he served Sir Ector and Sir\nLionel. For, as the book saith, he might have slain them, but when he\nsaw their visages his heart might not serve him thereto, but left them\nthere.\nAnd then afterward he hurled in the thickest press of them all, and did\nthere the marvellousest deeds of arms that ever man saw or heard speak\nof; and ever Sir Lavaine the good knight with him. And there Sir\nLauncelot with his sword smote and pulled down, as the French book\nmaketh mention, more than thirty knights, and the most party were of\nthe Table Round. And Sir Lavaine did full well that day, for he smote\ndown ten knights of the Table Round.\n_How Sir Launcelot and Sir Lavaine departed out of the field, and in\n what jeopardy Launcelot was._\nMercy, said Sir Gawaine to Arthur, I marvel what knight that he is with\nthe red sleeve. Sir, said king Arthur, he will be known or he depart.\nAnd then the king blew unto lodging, and the prize was given by heralds\nunto the knight with the white shield, that bare the red sleeve. Then\ncame the king with the hundred knights, the king of Northgalis, and the\nking of Northumberland, and Sir Galahalt the haut prince, and said unto\nSir Launcelot, Fair knight, God thee bless, for much have ye done this\nday for us, therefore we pray you that ye will come with us, that ye\nmay receive the honour and the prize as ye have worshipfully deserved\nit. My fair lords, said Sir Launcelot, wit you well, if I have deserved\nthank I have sore bought it, and that me repenteth, for I am like never\nto escape with my life, therefore, fair lords, I pray you that ye will\nsuffer me to depart where me liketh, for I am sore hurt. I take none\nforce of none honour, for I had lever to repose me than to be lord of\nall the world. And therewithal he groaned piteously, and rode a great\ngallop away-ward from them, until he came under a wood\u2019s side; and when\nhe saw that he was from the field nigh a mile, that he was sure he\nmight not be seen, then he said with an high voice, O gentle knight Sir\nLavaine, help me that this truncheon were out of my side, for it\nsticketh so sore that it nigh slayeth me. O mine own lord, said Sir\nLavaine, I would fain do that might please you, but I dread me sore,\nand I draw out the truncheon, that ye shall be in peril of death. I\ncharge you, said Sir Launcelot, as ye love me draw it out. And\ntherewithal he descended from his horse, and right so did Sir Lavaine,\nand forthwith Sir Lavaine drew the truncheon out of his side. And he\ngave a great shriek, and a marvellous grisly groan, and his blood brast\nout nigh a pint at once, that at last he sank down, and so swooned pale\nand deadly. Alas, said Sir Lavaine, what shall I do? And then he turned\nSir Launcelot into the wind, but so he lay there nigh half an hour as\nhe had been dead. And so at the last Sir Launcelot cast up his eyes,\nand said, O Lavaine, help me that I were on my horse, for here is fast\nby within this two mile a gentle hermit, that sometime was a full noble\nknight and a great lord of possessions: and for great goodness he hath\ntaken him to wilful poverty, and forsaken many lands, and his name is\nSir Baudewin of Brittany, and he is a full noble surgeon, and a good\nleech. Now let see, help me up that I were there. For ever my heart\ngiveth me that I shall never die of my cousin-german\u2019s hands. And then\nwith great pain Sir Lavaine halp him upon his horse; and then they rode\na great gallop together, and ever Sir Launcelot bled that it ran down\nto the earth. And so by fortune they came to that hermitage, which was\nunder a wood, and a great cliff on the other side, and a fair water\nrunning under it. And then Sir Lavaine beat on the gate with the butt\nof his spear, and cried fast, Let in for Jesu\u2019s sake. And there came a\nfair child to them, and asked them what they would? Fair son, said Sir\nLavaine, go and pray thy lord the hermit for God\u2019s sake to let in here\na knight that is full sore wounded, and this day tell thy lord that I\nsaw him do more deeds of arms than ever I heard say that any man did.\nSo the child went in lightly, and then he brought the hermit, the which\nwas a passing good man. So when Sir Lavaine saw him, he prayed him for\nGod\u2019s sake of succour. What knight is he? said the hermit, is he of the\nhouse of king Arthur or not? I wot not, said Sir Lavaine, what is he,\nnor what is his name, but well I wot I saw him do marvellously this\nday, as of deeds of arms. On whose party was he? said the hermit. Sir,\nsaid Sir Lavaine, he was this day against king Arthur, and there he wan\nthe prize of all the knights of the Round Table. I have seen the day,\nsaid the hermit, I would have loved him the worse because he was\nagainst my lord king Arthur, for sometime I was one of the fellowship\nof the Round Table, but I thank God now I am otherwise disposed. But\nwhere is he? let me see him. Then Sir Lavaine brought the hermit to him.\n_How Launcelot was brought to an hermit for to be healed of his wound,\n and of other matters._\nAnd when the hermit beheld him as he sat leaning upon his saddle-bow,\never bleeding piteously, and ever the knight hermit thought that he\nshould know him, but he could not bring him to knowledge, because he\nwas so pale for bleeding. What knight are ye? said the hermit, and\nwhere were ye born? My fair lord, said Sir Launcelot, I am a stranger,\nand a knight adventurous that laboureth throughout many realms for to\nwin worship. Then the hermit advised him better, and saw by a wound on\nhis cheek that he was Sir Launcelot. Alas, said the hermit, mine own\nlord, why hide you your name from me: forsooth I ought to know you of\nright, for ye are the most noblest knight of the world; for well I know\nyou for Sir Launcelot. Sir, said he, sith ye know me, help me and ye\nmay, for God\u2019s sake; for I would be out of this pain at once, either to\ndeath or to life. Have ye no doubt, said the hermit, ye shall live and\nfare right well. And so the hermit called to him two of his servants,\nand so he and his servants bare him into the hermitage, and lightly\nunarmed him and laid him in his bed. And then anon the hermit stanched\nhis blood, and made him to drink good wine, so that Sir Launcelot was\nwell refreshed, and knew himself. For in those days it was not the\nguise of hermits as is now adays. For there were none hermits in those\ndays but that they had been men of worship and of prowess, and those\nhermits held great household, and refreshed people that were in\ndistress.\nNow turn we unto king Arthur, and leave we Sir Launcelot in the\nhermitage. So when the kings were come together on both parties, and\nthe great feast should be holden, king Arthur asked the king of\nNorthgalis and their fellowship where was that knight that bare the red\nsleeve:\u2014Bring him before me, that he may have his laud and honour and\nthe prize, as it is right. Then spake Sir Galahalt the haut prince and\nthe king with the hundred knights: We suppose that knight is\nmischieved, and that he is never like to see you, nor none of us all,\nand that is the greatest pity that ever we wist of any knight. Alas,\nsaid Arthur, how may this be? is he so hurt? What is his name? said\nking Arthur. Truly, said they all, we know not his name, nor from\nwhence he came, nor whither he would. Alas, said the king, these be to\nme the worst tidings that came to me this seven year: for I would not\nfor all the lands I hold, to know and wit it were so that that noble\nknight were slain. Know ye him? said they all. As for that, said\nArthur, whether I know him or know him not, ye shall not know for me\nwhat man he is, but Almighty Jesu send me good tidings of him. And so\nsaid they all. By my head, said Sir Gawaine, if it be so, that the good\nknight be so sore hurt, it is great damage and pity to all this land,\nfor he is one of the noblest knights that ever I saw in a field handle\na spear or a sword. And if he may be found I shall find him, for I am\nsure he is not far from this town. Bear you well, said king Arthur, and\nye may find him, unless that he be in such a plight that he may not\nhold himself. Jesu defend, said Sir Gawaine, but wit I shall what he\nis, and I may find him. Right so, Sir Gawaine took a squire with him,\nupon hackneys, and rode all about Camelot within six or seven miles.\nBut so he came again, and could hear no word of him.\nThen within two days king Arthur and all the fellowship returned unto\nLondon again. And so as they rode by the way, it happed Sir Gawaine at\nAstolat to lodge with Sir Bernard, there as was Sir Launcelot lodged.\nAnd so as Sir Gawaine was in his chamber to repose him, Sir Bernard the\nold baron came unto him, and his daughter Elaine, for to cheer him, and\nto ask him what tidings, and who did best at that tournament of\nWinchester. Truly, said Sir Gawaine, there were two knights that bare\ntwo white shields; but the one of them bare a red sleeve upon his head,\nand certainly he was one of the best knights that ever I saw just in\nfield. For I dare say, said Sir Gawaine, that one knight with the red\nsleeve smote down forty valiant knights of the Table Round, and his\nfellow did right well and worshipfully. Now blessed be God, said the\nfair maiden of Astolat, that that knight sped so well, for he is the\nman in the world that I first loved, and truly he shall be the last\nthat ever I shall love. Now fair maid, said Sir Gawaine, is that good\nknight your love? Certainly, sir, said she, wit ye well he is my love.\nThen know ye his name, said Sir Gawaine. Nay, truly, said the damsel, I\nknow not his name, nor from whence he cometh, but to say that I love\nhim, I promise you and God that I love him. How had ye knowledge of him\nfirst? said Sir Gawaine.\n_How Sir Gawaine was lodged with the lord of Astolat, and there had\n knowledge that it was Sir Launcelot that bare the red sleeve._\nThen she told him as ye have heard tofore, and how her father betook\nhim her brother to do him service, and how her father lent him her\nbrother Sir Tirre\u2019s shield,\u2014And here with me he left his own shield.\nFor what cause did he so? said Sir Gawaine. For this cause, said the\ndamsel, for his shield was too well known among many noble knights. Ah,\nfair damsel, said Sir Gawaine, please it you let me have a sight of\nthat shield. Sir, said she, it is in my chamber covered with a case,\nand if ye will come with me, ye shall see it. Not so, said Sir Bernard,\ntill his daughter let send for it. So when the shield was come, Sir\nGawaine took off the case: and when he beheld that shield, he knew anon\nthat it was Sir Launcelot\u2019s shield, and his own arms. Ah, mercy, said\nSir Gawaine, now is my heart more heavier then ever it was tofore. Why?\nsaid Elaine. For I have great cause, said Sir Gawaine: is that knight\nthat owneth this shield your love? Yea truly, said she, my love he is,\nGod would I were his love. Truly, said Sir Gawaine, fair damsel, ye\nhave right, for, and he be your love, ye love the most honourable\nknight of the world, and the man of most worship. So me thought ever,\nsaid the damsel, for never, or that time, for no knight that ever I saw\nloved I never none erst. God grant, said Sir Gawaine, that either of\nyou may rejoice other, but that is in a great adventure. But truly,\nsaid Sir Gawaine unto the damsel, ye may say ye have a fair grace, for\nwhy, I have known that noble knight this four and twenty year, and\nnever or that day I nor none other knight, I dare make it good, saw nor\nheard say that ever he bare token or sign of no lady, gentlewoman, nor\nmaiden, at no justs nor tournament. And therefore, fair maiden, said\nSir Gawaine, ye are much beholden to him to give him thanks. But I\ndread me, said Sir Gawaine, that ye shall never see him in this world,\nand that is great pity that ever was of earthly knight. Alas, said she,\nhow may this be? Is he slain? I say not so, said Sir Gawaine, but wit\nye well, he is grievously wounded, by all manner of signs, and by men\u2019s\nsight more likely to be dead then to be on live; and wit ye well he is\nthe noble knight Sir Launcelot, for by this shield I know him. Alas,\nsaid the fair maiden of Astolat, how may this be, and what was his\nhurt? Truly, said Sir Gawaine, the man in the world that loved him best\nhurt him so, and I dare say, said Sir Gawaine, and that knight that\nhurt him knew the very certainty that he had hurt Sir Launcelot, it\nwould be the most sorrow that ever came to his heart. Now, fair father,\nsaid then Elaine, I require you give me leave to ride and to seek him,\nor else I wot well I shall go out of my mind, for I shall never stint\ntill that I find him and my brother Sir Lavaine. Do as it liketh you,\nsaid her father, for me right sore repenteth of the hurt of that noble\nknight. Right so the maid made her ready, and before Sir Gawaine making\ngreat dole. Then on the morn Sir Gawaine came to king Arthur, and told\nhim how he had found Sir Launcelot\u2019s shield in the keeping of the fair\nmaiden of Astolat. All that knew I aforehand, said king Arthur, and\nthat caused me I would not suffer you to have ado at the great justs:\nfor I espied, said king Arthur, when he came in till his lodging, full\nlate in the evening in Astolat. But marvel have I, said Arthur, that\never he would bear any sign of any damsel: for, or now, I never heard\nsay nor knew that ever he bare any token of none earthly woman. By my\nhead, said Sir Gawaine, the fair maiden of Astolat loveth him\nmarvellously well; what it meaneth I cannot say; and she is ridden\nafter to seek him. So the king and all came to London, and there Sir\nGawaine openly disclosed to all the court that it was Sir Launcelot\nthat justed best.\n_Of the sorrow that Sir Bors had for the hurt of Launcelot; and of the\n anger that the queen had because Launcelot bore the sleeve._\nAnd when Sir Bors heard that, wit ye well he was a heavy man, and so\nwere all his kinsmen. But when queen Guenever wist that Sir Launcelot\nbare the red sleeve of the fair maiden of Astolat, she was nigh out of\nher mind for wrath. And then she sent for Sir Bors de Ganis in all the\nhaste that might be. So when Sir Bors was come tofore the queen, then\nshe said, Ah, Sir Bors, have ye heard say how falsely Sir Launcelot\nhath betrayed me? Alas, madam, said Sir Bors, I am afraid he hath\nbetrayed himself, and us all. No force, said the queen, though he be\ndestroyed, for he is a false traitor knight. Madam, said Sir Bors, I\npray you say ye not so, for wit you well I may not hear such language\nof him. Why, Sir Bors, said she, should I not call him traitor, when he\nbare the red sleeve upon his head at Winchester, at the great justs?\nMadam, said Sir Bors, that sleeve-bearing repenteth me sore, but I dare\nsay he did it to none evil intent, but for this cause he bare the red\nsleeve, that none of his blood should know him; for, or then, we nor\nnone of us all never knew that ever he bare token or sign of maid,\nlady, ne gentlewoman. Fie on him, said the queen, yet for all his pride\nand boasting, there ye proved yourself his better. Nay, madam, say ye\nnever more so, for he beat me and my fellows, and might have slain us,\nand he had would. Fie on him, said the queen, for I heard Sir Gawaine\nsay before my lord Arthur, that it were marvel to tell the great love\nthat is between the fair maiden of Astolat and him. Madam, said Sir\nBors, I may not warn Sir Gawaine to say what it pleased him: but I dare\nsay as for my lord Sir Launcelot, that he loveth no lady, gentlewoman,\nnor maid, but all he loveth in like much, and therefore, madam, said\nSir Bors, ye may say what ye will, but wit ye well I will haste me to\nseek him, and find him wheresoever he be, and God send me good tidings\nof him. And so leave we them there, and speak we of Sir Launcelot, that\nlay in great peril.\nSo as fair Elaine came to Winchester, she sought there all about, and\nby fortune Sir Lavaine was ridden to play him, to enchafe his horse.\nAnd anon as Elaine saw him she knew him, and then she cried onloud\nuntil him. And when he heard her, anon he came to her; and then she\nasked her brother, How did my lord, Sir Launcelot? Who told you,\nsister, that my lord\u2019s name was Sir Launcelot? Then she told him how\nSir Gawaine by his shield knew him. So they rode together till that\nthey came to the hermitage, and anon she alight. So Sir Lavaine brought\nher in to Sir Launcelot. And when she saw him lie so sick and pale in\nhis bed, she might not speak, but suddenly she fell to the earth down\nsuddenly in a swoon, and there she lay a great while. And when she was\nrelieved she sighed, and said, My lord Sir Launcelot, alas, why be ye\nin this plight? and then she swooned again. And then Sir Launcelot\nprayed Sir Lavaine to take her up,\u2014And bring her to me. And when she\ncame to herself, Sir Launcelot kissed her, and said, Fair maiden, why\nfare ye thus? Ye put me to pain; wherefore make ye no more such cheer,\nfor, and ye be come to comfort me, ye be right welcome, and of this\nlittle hurt that I have, I shall be right hastily whole, by the grace\nof God. But I marvel, said Sir Launcelot, who told you my name. Then\nthe fair maiden told him all how Sir Gawaine was lodged with her\nfather,\u2014And there by your shield he discovered your name. Alas, said\nSir Launcelot, that me repenteth, that my name is known, for I am sure\nit will turn unto anger. And then Sir Launcelot compassed in his mind\nthat Sir Gawaine would tell queen Guenever how he bare the red sleeve,\nand for whom, that he wist well would turn unto great anger. So this\nmaiden, Elaine, never went from Sir Launcelot, but watched him day and\nnight, and did such attendance to him that the French book saith there\nwas never woman did more kindlier for man than she. Then Sir Launcelot\nprayed Sir Lavaine to make espies in Winchester for Sir Bors if he came\nthere, and told him by what tokens he should know him, by a wound in\nhis forehead: For well I am sure, said Sir Launcelot, that Sir Bors\nwill seek me, for he is the same good knight that hurt me.\n_How Sir Bors sought Launcelot and found him in the hermitage, and of\n the lamentation between them._\nNow turn we unto Sir Bors de Ganis, that came unto Winchester to seek\nafter his cousin, Sir Launcelot; and so when he came to Winchester,\nanon there were men that Sir Lavaine had made to lie in a watch for\nsuch a man; and anon Sir Lavaine had warning; and then Sir Lavaine came\nto Winchester, and found Sir Bors, and there he told him what he was,\nand with whom he was, and what was his name. Now, fair knight, said Sir\nBors, I require you that ye will bring me to my lord Sir Launcelot.\nSir, said Sir Lavaine, take your horse, and within this hour ye shall\nsee him. And so they departed, and came to the hermitage.\nAnd when Sir Bors saw Sir Launcelot lie in his bed, pale and\ndiscoloured, anon Sir Bors lost his countenance, and for kindness and\npity he might not speak, but wept tenderly a great while. And then when\nhe might speak he said thus: O my lord Sir Launcelot, God you bless,\nand send you hasty recovery; and full heavy am I of my misfortune and\nof mine unhappiness, for now I may call myself unhappy, and I dread me\nthat God is greatly displeased with me, that he would suffer me to have\nsuch a shame for to hurt you, that are all our leader and all our\nworship, and therefore I call myself unhappy. Alas, that ever such a\ncaitiff knight as I am should have power by unhappiness to hurt the\nmost noblest knight of the world. Where I so shamefully set upon you\nand overcharged you, and where ye might have slain me, ye saved me, and\nso did not I: for I, and your blood, did to you our utterance. I\nmarvel, said Sir Bors, that my heart or my blood would serve me,\nwherefore my lord Sir Launcelot, I ask your mercy. Fair cousin, said\nSir Launcelot, ye be right welcome, and wit ye well overmuch ye say for\nto please me, the which pleaseth me not; for why? I have the same\nsought, for I would with pride have overcome you all, and there in my\npride I was near slain, and that was in mine own default, for I might\nhave given you warning of my being there. And then had I had no hurt;\nfor it is an old said saw, there is hard battle there as kin and\nfriends do battle either against other; there may be no mercy, but\nmortal war. Therefore, fair cousin, said Sir Launcelot, let this speech\noverpass, and all shall be welcome that God sendeth; and let us leave\noff this matter, and let us speak of some rejoicing: for this that is\ndone may not be undone, and let us find a remedy how soon that I may be\nwhole. Then Sir Bors leaned upon his bed\u2019s side, and told Sir Launcelot\nhow the queen was passing wroth with him, because he ware the red\nsleeve at the great justs. And there Sir Bors told him all how Sir\nGawaine discovered it by your shield that ye left with the fair maiden\nof Astolat. Then is the queen wroth, said Sir Launcelot, and therefore\nam I right heavy, for I deserved no wrath, for all that I did was\nbecause that I would not be known. Right so excused I you, said Sir\nBors, but all was in vain, for she said more largely to me than I to\nyou now. But is this she, said Sir Bors, that is so busy about you,\nthat men call the fair maiden of Astolat? She it is, said Sir\nLauncelot, that by no means I cannot put from me. Why should ye put her\nfrom you? said Sir Bors, she is a passing fair damsel, and a well\nbeseen and well taught; and God would, fair cousin, said Sir Bors, that\nye could love her, but as to that I may not, nor I dare not, counsel\nyou. But I see well, said Sir Bors, by her diligence about you, that\nshe loveth you entirely. That me repenteth, said Sir Launcelot. Sir,\nsaid Sir Bors, she is not the first that hath lost her pain upon you,\nand that is the more pity. And so they talked of many more things. And\nso within three days or four, Sir Launcelot was big and strong again.\n_How Sir Launcelot armed him to assay if he might bear arms, and how\n his wound burst out again._\nThen Sir Bors told Sir Launcelot how there was sworn a great tournament\nand justs betwixt king Arthur and the king of Northgalis, that should\nbe on Allhallowmass day, beside Winchester. Is that truth? said Sir\nLauncelot, then shall ye abide with me still a little while, until that\nI be whole, for I feel myself right big and strong. Blessed be God,\nsaid Sir Bors. Then were they there nigh a month together; and ever\nthis maiden Elaine did ever her diligent labour, night and day, unto\nSir Launcelot, that there was never child nor wife more meeker to\nfather and husband, than was that fair maiden of Astolat. Wherefore Sir\nBors was greatly pleased with her. So upon a day, by the assent of Sir\nLauncelot, Sir Bors and Sir Lavaine they made the hermit to seek in\nwoods for divers herbs. And so Sir Launcelot made fair Elaine to gather\nherbs for him, to make him a bath. In the mean while, Sir Launcelot\nmade him to arm him at all pieces, and there he thought to assay his\narmour and his spear, for his hurt or not. And so when he was upon his\nhorse, he stirred him fiercely, and the horse was passing lusty and\nfresh, because he was not laboured a month before. And then Sir\nLauncelot couched that spear in the rest: that courser lept mightily\nwhen he felt the spurs; and he that was upon him, the which was the\nnoblest horse of the world, strained him mightily and stably, and kept\nstill the spear in the rest. And therewith Sir Launcelot strained\nhimself so straitly, with so great force, to get the horse forward,\nthat the bottom of the wound brast, both within and without, and\ntherewithal the blood came out so fiercely that he felt himself so\nfeeble that he might not sit upon his horse. And then Sir Launcelot\ncried unto Sir Bors, Ah, Sir Bors, and Sir Lavaine, help, for I am come\nto mine end. And therewith he fell down on the one side to the earth,\nlike a dead corpse. And then Sir Bors and Sir Lavaine came to him, with\nsorrow making out of measure. And so by fortune the maiden Elaine heard\ntheir mourning, and then she came thither. And when she found Sir\nLauncelot there armed in that place, she cried and wept as she had been\nwood, and then she kissed him, and did what she might to awake him. And\nthen she rebuked her brother and Sir Bors, and called them false\ntraitors, why they would take him out of his bed; then she cried, and\nsaid she would appeal them of his death. With this came the holy\nhermit, Sir Baudewin of Britanny; and when he found Sir Launcelot in\nthat plight he said but little, but wit ye well he was wroth; and then\nhe bade them, Let us have him in. And so they all bare him unto the\nhermitage, and unarmed him, and laid him in his bed, and evermore his\nwound bled piteously, but he stirred no limb of him. Then the knight\nhermit put a thing in his nose, and a little deal of water in his\nmouth, and then Sir Launcelot waked of his swoon, and then the hermit\nstanched his bleeding. And when he might speak, he asked Sir Launcelot\nwhy he put his life in jeopardy. Sir, said Sir Launcelot, because I\nwend I had been strong, and also Sir Bors told me that there should be\nat Allhallowmass a great justs betwixt king Arthur and the king of\nNorthgalis, and therefore I thought to assay it myself, whether I might\nbe there or not. Ah, Sir Launcelot, said the hermit, your heart and\nyour courage will never be done until your last day, but ye shall do\nnow by my counsel; let Sir Bors depart from you, and let him do at that\ntournament what he may, and by the grace of God, said the knight\nhermit, by that the tournament be done, and ye come hither again, Sir\nLauncelot shall be as whole as ye, so that he will be governed by me.\n_How Sir Bors returned and told tidings of Sir Launcelot, and of the\n tourney, and to whom the prize was given._\nThen Sir Bors made him ready to depart from Sir Launcelot; and then Sir\nLauncelot said, Fair cousin, Sir Bors, recommend me unto all them unto\nwhom me ought to recommend me unto, and I pray you enforce yourself at\nthat justs, that ye may be best, for my love, and here shall I abide\nyou, at the mercy of God, till ye come again. And so Sir Bors departed,\nand came to the court of king Arthur, and told them in what place he\nhad left Sir Launcelot. That me repenteth, said the king, but sin he\nshall have his life, we may all thank God. And there Sir Bors told the\nqueen in what jeopardy Sir Launcelot was, when he would essay his\nhorse: and all that he did, madam, was for the love of you, because he\nwould have been at this tournament. Fie on him, recreant knight, said\nthe queen, for wit ye well I am right sorry and he shall have his life.\nHis life shall he have, said Sir Bors, and who that would otherwise,\nexcept you, madam, we that be of his blood should help to short their\nlives. But, madam, said Sir Bors, ye have been oft-times displeased\nwith my lord Sir Launcelot, but at all times at the end ye find him a\ntrue knight. And so he departed. And then every knight of the Round\nTable that was there present at that time, made them ready to be at\nthat justs at Allhallowmass. And thither drew many knights of divers\ncountries. And as Allhallowmass drew near, thither came the king of\nNorthgalis, and the king with the hundred knights, and Sir Galahalt the\nhaut prince of Surluse, and thither came king Anguish of Ireland, and\nthe king of Scots. So these three kings came on king Arthur\u2019s party.\nAnd so that day Sir Gawaine did great deeds of arms, and began first,\nand the heralds numbered that Sir Gawaine smote down twenty knights.\nThen Sir Bors de Ganis came in the same time, and he was numbered that\nhe smote down twenty knights. And therefore the prize was given betwixt\nthem both, for they began first, and the longest endured.\nAlso Sir Gareth, as the book saith, did that day great deeds of arms,\nfor he smote down, and pulled down, thirty knights. But when he had\ndone these deeds he tarried not, but so departed, and therefore he lost\nhis prize. And Sir Palamides did great deeds of arms that day, for he\nsmote down twenty knights, but he departed suddenly; and men deemed Sir\nGareth and he rode together to some manner adventure. So when this\ntournament was done, Sir Bors departed, and rode till he came to Sir\nLauncelot his cousin, and then he found him walking on his feet, and\nthere either made great joy of other. And so Sir Bors told Sir\nLauncelot of all the justs, like as ye have heard. I marvel, said Sir\nLauncelot, that Sir Gareth, when he had done such deeds of arms, that\nhe would not tarry. Thereof we marvelled all, said Sir Bors, for, but\nif it were you, or Sir Tristram, or Sir Lamorak de Galis, I saw never\nknight bear down so many in so little a while as did Sir Gareth. And\nanon as he was gone, he wist not where. By my head, said Sir Launcelot,\nhe is a noble knight, and a mighty man, and well breathed; and if he\nwere well assayed, said Sir Launcelot, I would deem he were good enough\nfor any man that beareth the life; and he is a gentle knight,\ncourteous, true, and bounteous, meek and mild, and in him is no manner\nof mal-engine, but plain, faithful, and true. So then they made them\nready to depart from the hermit. And so upon a morn they took their\nhorses, and Elaine le Blank with them; and when they came to Astolat,\nthere they were well lodged, and had great cheer of Sir Bernard the old\nbaron, and of Sir Tirre his son. And so upon the morn, when Sir\nLauncelot should depart, fair Elaine brought her father with her, and\nSir Tirre and Sir Lavaine, and thus she said:\n_Of the great lamentation of the fair maid of Astolat when Launcelot\n should depart, and how she died for his love._\nMy lord Sir Launcelot, now I see ye will depart, now, fair knight and\ncourteous knight, have mercy upon me, and suffer me not to die for thy\nlove. What would ye that I did? said Sir Launcelot. I would have you to\nmy husband, said Elaine. Fair damsel, I thank you, said Sir Launcelot,\nbut truly, said he, I cast me never to be wedded man. Then, fair\nknight, said she, will ye be my love? Jesu defend me, said Sir\nLauncelot, for then I rewarded to your father and your brother full\nevil for their great goodness. Alas, said she, then must I die for your\nlove. Ye shall not so, said Sir Launcelot, for wit ye well, fair\nmaiden, I might have been married and I had would, but I never applied\nme to be married yet. But because, fair damsel, that ye love me as ye\nsay ye do, I will, for your good will and kindness, shew you some\ngoodness, and that is this; that wheresoever ye will beset your heart\nupon some good knight that will wed you, I shall give you together a\nthousand pound yearly, to you and to your heirs. Thus much will I give\nyou, fair madam, for your kindness, and always while I live to be your\nown knight. Of all this, said the maiden, I will none, for, but if ye\nwill wed me, or else be my lover, wit you well, Sir Launcelot, my good\ndays are done. Fair damsel, said Sir Launcelot, of these two things ye\nmust pardon me. Then she shrieked shrilly, and fell down in a swoon;\nand then women bare her into her chamber, and there she made overmuch\nsorrow. And then Sir Launcelot would depart; and there he asked Sir\nLavaine what he would do. What should I do, said Sir Lavaine, but\nfollow you, but if ye drive me from you, or command me to go from you?\nThen came Sir Bernard to Sir Launcelot, and said to him, I cannot see\nbut that my daughter Elaine will die for your sake. I may not do\nwithal, said Sir Launcelot, for that me sore repenteth; for I report me\nto yourself that my proffer is fair, and me repenteth, said Sir\nLauncelot, that she loveth me as she doth: I was never the causer of\nit, for I report me to your son, I early nor late proffered her bounty\nnor fair behests; and as for me, said Sir Launcelot, I dare do all that\na good knight should do, that she is a true maiden, both for deed and\nfor will; and I am right heavy of her distress, for she is a full fair\nmaiden, good, and gentle, and well taught. Father, said Sir Lavaine, I\ndare make good she is pure and good as my lord Sir Launcelot hath said;\nbut she doth as I do, for since I first saw my lord Sir Launcelot I\ncould never depart from him, nor nought I will and I may follow him.\nThen Sir Launcelot took his leave, and so they departed, and came unto\nWinchester. And when Arthur wist that Sir Launcelot was come, whole and\nsound, the king made great joy of him, and so did Sir Gawaine, and all\nthe knights of the Round Table except Sir Agravaine and Sir Mordred.\nAlso queen Guenever was wood wroth with Sir Launcelot, and would by no\nmeans speak with him, but estranged herself from him, and Sir Launcelot\nmade all the means that he might to speak with the queen, but it would\nnot be.\nNow speak we of the fair maiden of Astolat, that made such sorrow day\nand night, that she never slept, eat, nor drank; and ever she made her\ncomplaint unto Sir Launcelot. So when she had thus endured a ten days,\nthat she feebled so that she must needs pass out of this world, then\nshe shrived her clean, and received her Creator. And ever she\ncomplained still upon Sir Launcelot. Then her ghostly father bade her\nleave such thoughts. Then she said, Why should I leave such thoughts?\nam I not an earthly woman? and all the while the breath is in my body I\nmay complain me, for my belief is I do none offence though I love an\nearthly man, and I take God to my record I never loved none but Sir\nLauncelot du Lake, nor never shall; and a pure maiden I am for him and\nfor all other. And since it is the sufferance of God that I shall die\nfor the love of so noble a knight, I beseech the High Father of heaven\nto have mercy upon my soul, and upon mine innumerable pains that I\nsuffered may be allegiance of part of my sins. For sweet Lord Jesu,\nsaid the fair maiden, I take thee to record, on thee I was never great\noffender against thy laws, but that I loved this noble knight Sir\nLauncelot out of measure, and of myself, good Lord, I might not\nwithstand the fervent love wherefore I have my death. And then she\ncalled her father Sir Bernard, and her brother Sir Tirre, and heartily\nshe prayed her father that her brother might write a letter like as she\ndid endite it; and so her father granted her. And when the letter was\nwritten word by word like as she devised, then she prayed her father\nthat she might be watched until she were dead,\u2014And while my body is\nhot, let this letter be put in my right hand, and my hand bound fast\nwith the letter until that I be cold, and let me be put in a fair bed,\nwith all the richest clothes that I have about me, and so let my bed,\nand all my richest clothes, be laid with me in a chariot unto the next\nplace where Thames is, and there let me be put within a barget, and but\none man with me, such as ye trust to steer me thither, and that my\nbarget be covered with black samite, over and over. Thus, father, I\nbeseech you, let it be done. So her father granted it her faithfully,\nall things should be done like as she had devised. Then her father and\nher brother made great dole, for, when this was done, anon she died.\nAnd so when she was dead, the corpse, and the bed, all was led the next\nway unto Thames, and there a man, and the corpse, and all, were put\ninto Thames, and so the man steered the barget unto Westminster, and\nthere he rowed a great while to and fro or any espied it.\n_How the corpse of the maid of Astolat arrived tofore king Arthur, and\n of the burying, and how Sir Launcelot offered the mass-penny._\nSo by fortune king Arthur and the queen Guenever were speaking together\nat a window; and so as they looked into Thames, they espied this black\nbarget, and had marvel what it meant. Then the king called Sir Kay, and\nshewed it him. Sir, said Sir Kay, wit you well there is some new\ntidings. Go thither, said the king to Sir Kay, and take with you Sir\nBrandiles and Agravaine, and bring me ready word what is there. Then\nthese three knights departed, and came to the barget, and went in; and\nthere they found the fairest corpse lying in a rich bed, and a poor man\nsitting in the barget\u2019s end, and no word would he speak. So these three\nknights returned unto the king again, and told him what they found.\nThat fair corpse will I see, said the king. And so then the king took\nthe queen by the hand and went thither. Then the king made the barget\nto be holden fast; and then the king and the queen entered, with\ncertain knights with them. And there he saw the fairest woman lie in a\nrich bed, covered unto her middle with many rich clothes, and all was\nof cloth of gold, and she lay as though she had smiled. Then the queen\nespied a letter in her right hand, and told it to the king. Then the\nking took it, and said, Now I am sure this letter will tell what she\nwas, and why she is come hither. Then the king and the queen went out\nof the barget, and so commanded a certain man to wait upon the barget.\nAnd so when the king was come within his chamber, he called many\nknights about him, and said that he would wit openly what was written\nwithin that letter. Then the king brake it, and made a clerk to read\nit; and this was the intent of the letter:\u2014Most noble knight, Sir\nLauncelot, now hath death made us two at debate for your love; I was\nyour lover, that men called the fair maiden of Astolat; therefore unto\nall ladies I make my moan; yet pray for my soul, and bury me at the\nleast, and offer ye my mass-penny. This is my last request. And a clean\nmaiden I died, I take God to witness. Pray for my soul, Sir Launcelot,\nas thou art peerless.\u2014This was all the substance in the letter. And\nwhen it was read, the king, the queen, and all the knights wept for\npity of the doleful complaints. Then was Sir Launcelot sent for. And\nwhen he was come, king Arthur made the letter to be read to him; and\nwhen Sir Launcelot heard it word by word, he said, My lord Arthur, wit\nye well I am right heavy of the death of this fair damsel. God knoweth\nI was never causer of her death by my willing, and that will I report\nme to her own brother; here he is, Sir Lavaine. I will not say nay,\nsaid Sir Launcelot, but that she was both fair and good, and much I was\nbeholden unto her, but she loved me out of measure. Ye might have\nshewed her, said the queen, some bounty and gentleness, that might have\npreserved her life. Madam, said Sir Launcelot, she would none other way\nbe answered, but that she would be my wife, or else my love, and of\nthese two I would not grant her; but I proffered her, for her good love\nthat she shewed me, a thousand pound yearly to her and to her heirs,\nand to wed any manner knight that she could find best to love in her\nheart. For, madam, said Sir Launcelot, I love not to be constrained to\nlove; for love must arise of the heart, and not by no constraint. That\nis truth, said the king, and many knights: love is free in himself, and\nnever will be bounden; for where he is bounden he loseth himself. Then\nsaid the king unto Sir Launcelot, It will be your worship that ye\noversee that she be interred worshipfully. Sir, said Sir Launcelot,\nthat shall be done as I can best devise. And so many knights went\nthither to behold that fair maiden. And so upon the morn she was\ninterred richly, and Sir Launcelot offered her mass-penny, and all the\nknights of the Table Round that were there at that time offered with\nSir Launcelot. And then the poor man went again with the barget. Then\nthe queen sent for Sir Launcelot, and prayed him of mercy, for why she\nhad been wroth with him causeless. This is not the first time, said Sir\nLauncelot, that ye have been displeased with me causeless; but, madam,\never I must suffer you, but what sorrow I endure I take no force. So\nthis passed on all that winter, with all manner of hunting and hawking,\nand justs and tourneys were many betwixt many great lords; and ever in\nall places Sir Lavaine gat great worship, so that he was nobly renowned\namong many knights of the Table Round.\n_Of great justs done all a Christmas, and of a great justs and tourney\n ordained by king Arthur, and of Sir Launcelot._\nThus it passed on till Christmas, and every day there was justs made\nfor a diamond, who that justed best should have a diamond. But Sir\nLauncelot would not just, but if it were at a great justs cried. But\nSir Lavaine justed there all that Christmas passing well, and best was\npraised; for there were but few that did so well. Wherefore all manner\nof knights deemed that Sir Lavaine should be made knight of the Round\nTable at the next feast of Pentecost. So at after Christmas king Arthur\nlet call unto him many knights, and there they advised together to make\na party and a great tournament and justs. And the king of Northgalis\nsaid to Arthur he would have on his party king Anguish of Ireland, and\nthe king with the hundred knights, and the king of Northumberland, and\nSir Galahalt the haut prince; and so these four kings and this mighty\nduke took party against king Arthur and the knights of the Table Round.\nAnd the cry was made that the day of the justs should be beside\nWestminster on Candlemas day, whereof many knights were glad, and made\nthem ready to be at that justs in the freshest manner. Then queen\nGuenever sent for Sir Launcelot, and said thus: I warn you that ye ride\nno more in no justs nor tournaments, but that your kinsmen may know\nyou. And at these justs that shall be, ye shall have of me a sleeve of\ngold; and I pray you, for my sake, enforce yourself there that men may\nspeak of you worship. But I charge you as ye will have my love, that ye\nwarn your kinsmen that ye will bear that day the sleeve of gold upon\nyour helmet. Madam, said Sir Launcelot, it shall be done. And so either\nmade great joy of other. And when Sir Launcelot saw his time, he told\nSir Bors that he would depart, and have no more with him but Sir\nLavaine, unto the good hermit that dwelled in the forest of Windsor,\nhis name was Sir Brastias, and there he thought to repose him, and to\ntake all the rest that he might, because he would be fresh at that day\nof justs. So Sir Launcelot and Sir Lavaine departed, that no creature\nwist where he was become, but the noble men of his blood. And when he\nwas come to the hermitage, wit you well he had good cheer. And so daily\nSir Launcelot would go to a well fast by the hermitage, and there he\nwould lie down, and see the well spring and bubble, and sometime he\nslept there. So at that time there was a lady dwelled in that forest,\nand she was a great huntress, and daily she used to hunt, and always\nshe bare her bow with her; and no men went never with her, but always\nwomen, and they were shooters, and could well kill a deer, both at the\nstalk and at the trest; and they daily bare bows and arrows, horns and\nwood-knives, and many good dogs they had, both for the string and for a\nbait. So it happed that this lady, the huntress, had baited her dogs\nfor the bow at a barren hind, and so this barren hind took her flight\nover heaths and woods, and ever this lady and part of her gentlewomen\ncoasted the hind, and checked it by the noise of the hounds, to have\nmet with the hind at some water. And so it happed the hind came to the\nwell whereas Sir Launcelot was sleeping and slumbering. And so when the\nhind came to the well, for heat she went to soil, and there she lay a\ngreat while; and the dogs came fast after, and umbecast about, for she\nhad lost the very perfect track of the hind. Right so, there came that\nlady the huntress, that knew by the dog that she had that the hind was\nat the soil in that well. And there she came stiffly, and found the\nhind, and she put a broad arrow in her bow, and shot at the hind, and\novershot the hind, and so, by misfortune, the arrow smote Sir Launcelot\nin the thick of the thigh, over the barbs. When Sir Launcelot felt\nhimself so hurt, he hurled up woodly, and saw the lady that had smitten\nhim. And when he saw she was a woman, he said thus, Lady, or damsel,\nwhat that thou be, in an evil time bare ye a bow, the devil made you a\nshooter.\n_How Launcelot after that he was hurt of a gentlewoman came to an\n hermit, and of other matters._\nNow mercy, fair sir, said the lady, I am a gentlewoman that useth here\nin this forest hunting, and truly I saw you not, but as here was a\nbarren hind at the soil in this well, and I wend to have done well, but\nmy hand swerved. Alas, said Sir Launcelot, ye have mischieved me. And\nso the lady departed, and Sir Launcelot, as well as he might, pulled\nout the arrow, and the head abode still in his thigh; and so he went\nweakly to the hermitage, evermore bleeding as he went. And when Sir\nLavaine and the hermit espied that Sir Launcelot was hurt, wit you well\nthey were passing heavy: but Sir Lavaine nor the hermit wist not how he\nwas hurt, nor by whom. And then they were wroth out of measure. Then\nwith great pain the hermit gat out the arrow\u2019s head out of Sir\nLauncelot\u2019s thigh, and much of his blood he shed, and the wound was\npassing sore, and unhappily smitten; for it was in such a place that he\nmight not sit in no saddle. Ah, mercy, said Sir Launcelot, I call\nmyself the most unhappiest man that liveth; for ever when I would\nfainest have worship, there befalleth me ever some unhappy thing. Now,\nso heaven me help, I shall be in the field upon Candlemas day at the\njusts, whatsoever fall of it. So all that might be gotten to heal Sir\nLauncelot was had. So when the day was come, Sir Launcelot let devise\nthat he was arrayed, and Sir Lavaine, and their horses, as though they\nhad been Saracens. And so they departed, and came nigh to the field.\nThe king of Northgalis with an hundred knights with him, and the king\nof Northumberland brought with him an hundred good knights, and king\nAnguish of Ireland brought with him an hundred good knights ready to\njust, and Sir Galahalt the haut prince brought with him an hundred good\nknights, and the king with the hundred knights brought with him as\nmany; and all these were proved good knights. Then came in king\nArthur\u2019s party, and there came in the king of Scots with an hundred\nknights, and king Uriens of Gore brought with him an hundred good\nknights, and king Howel of Britanny brought with him an hundred\nknights. And Chalance of Clarance brought with him an hundred knights,\nand king Arthur himself came into the field with two hundred knights,\nand the most part were knights of the Table Round that were proved\nnoble knights. And there were old knights set in scaffolds, for to\njudge with the queen who did best.\n_How Sir Launcelot behaved him at the justs, and other men also._\nThen they blew to the field, and there the king of Northgalis\nencountered with the king of Scots, and there the king of Scots had a\nfall, and the king of Ireland smote down king Uriens, and the king of\nNorthumberland smote down king Howel of Britanny, and Sir Galahalt, the\nhaut prince, smote down Chalance of Clarance. And then king Arthur was\nwood wroth, and ran to the king with the hundred knights, and there\nking Arthur smote him down, and after with that same spear king Arthur\nsmote down three other knights. And then when his spear was broken king\nArthur did passing well. And so therewithal came in Sir Gawaine, and\nSir Gaheris, Sir Agravaine, and Sir Mordred, and there every each of\nthem smote down a knight, and Sir Gawaine smote down four knights. And\nthen there began a strong meddle, for then there came in the knights of\nLauncelot\u2019s blood, and Sir Gareth and Sir Palamides with them, and many\nknights of the Table Round, and they began to hold the four kings and\nthe mighty duke so hard that they were discomfit, but this duke\nGalahalt the haut prince was a noble knight, and by his mighty prowess\nof arms he held the knights of the Table Round straight enough. All\nthis doing saw Sir Launcelot, and then he came into the field with Sir\nLavaine, as it had been thunder. And then anon Sir Bors and the knights\nof his blood espied Sir Launcelot, and said to them all, I warn you\nbeware of him with the sleeve of gold upon his head, for he is himself\nSir Launcelot du Lake. And for great goodness Sir Bors warned Sir\nGareth. I am well apayed, said Sir Gareth, that I may know him. But who\nis he, said they all, that rideth with him in the same array? That is\nthe good and gentle knight Sir Lavaine, said Sir Bors. So Sir Launcelot\nencountered with Sir Gawaine, and there by force Sir Launcelot smote\ndown Sir Gawaine and his horse to the earth, and so he smote down Sir\nAgravaine and Sir Gaheris, and also he smote down Sir Mordred, and all\nthis was with one spear. Then Sir Lavaine met with Sir Palamides, and\neither met other so hard and so fiercely that both their horses fell to\nthe earth. And then were they horsed again, and then met Sir Launcelot\nwith Sir Palamides, and there Sir Palamides had a fall. And so Sir\nLauncelot, or ever he stint, as fast as he might get spears, he smote\ndown thirty knights, and the most part of them were knights of the\nTable Round. And ever the knights of his blood withdrew them, and made\nthem ado in other places where Sir Launcelot came not; and then king\nArthur was wroth when he saw Sir Launcelot do such deeds, and then the\nking called unto him Sir Gawaine, Sir Mordred, Sir Kay, Sir Griflet,\nSir Lucan the butler, Sir Bedivere, Sir Palamides, and Safere his\nbrother; and so the king with these nine knights made them ready to set\nupon Sir Launcelot and upon Sir Lavaine. All this espied Sir Bors and\nSir Gareth. Now I dread me sore, said Sir Bors, that my lord Sir\nLauncelot will be hard matched. By my head, said Sir Gareth, I will\nride unto my lord Sir Launcelot for to help him, fall of him what may,\nfor he is the same man that made me knight. Ye shall not so, said Sir\nBors, by my counsel, unless that ye were disguised. Ye shall see me\ndisguised, said Sir Gareth: and therewithal he espied a Welsh knight\nwhere he was to repose himself, and he was sore hurt afore by Sir\nGawaine, and to him Sir Gareth rode, and prayed him of his knighthood\nto lend him his shield for his. I will well, said the Welsh knight. And\nwhen Sir Gareth had his shield, the book saith, it was green, with a\nmaiden that seemed in it. Then Sir Gareth came driving to Sir Launcelot\nall that he might, and said, Knight, keep thyself, for yonder cometh\nking Arthur with nine noble knights with him to put you to a rebuke,\nand so I am come to bear you fellowship for old love ye have shewed me.\nGramercy, said Sir Launcelot. Sir, said Sir Gareth, encounter ye with\nSir Gawaine, and I shall encounter with Sir Palamides, and let Sir\nLavaine match with the noble king Arthur. And when we have delivered\nthem, let us three hold us sadly together. Then came king Arthur with\nhis nine knights with him, and Sir Launcelot encountered with Sir\nGawaine, and gave him such a buffet that the bow of his saddle brast,\nand Sir Gawaine fell to the earth. Then Sir Gareth encountered with the\ngood knight Sir Palamides, and he gave him such a buffet that both his\nhorse and he dashed to the earth. Then encountered king Arthur with Sir\nLavaine, and there either of them smote other to the earth, horse and\nall, that they lay a great while. Then Sir Launcelot smote down Sir\nAgravaine, and Sir Gaheris, and Sir Mordred. And Sir Gareth smote down\nSir Kay, Sir Safere, and Sir Griflet. And then Sir Lavaine was horsed\nagain, and he smote down Sir Lucan the butler, and Sir Bedivere, and\nthen there began great throng of good knights. Then Sir Launcelot\nhurtled here and there, and rased and pulled off helms, so that at that\ntime there might none sit him a buffet with spear nor with sword. And\nSir Gareth did such deeds of arms that all men wondered what knight he\nwas with the green shield; for he smote down that day and pulled down\nmore than thirty knights. And, as the French book saith, Sir Launcelot\nmarvelled, when he beheld Sir Gareth do such deeds, what knight he\nmight be: and Sir Lavaine pulled down and smote down twenty knights.\nAlso Sir Launcelot knew not Sir Gareth, for, and Sir Tristram de Liones\nor Sir Lamorak de Galis had been alive, Sir Launcelot would have deemed\nhe had been one of them twain. So ever as Sir Launcelot, Sir Gareth,\nSir Lavaine, fought, and on the one side Sir Bors, Sir Ector de Maris,\nSir Lionel, Sir Lamorak de Galis, Sir Bleoberis, Sir Galihud, Sir\nGalihodin, Sir Pelleas, and with more other of king Ban\u2019s blood, fought\nupon another party, and held the king with the hundred knights, and\nalso the king of Northumberland, right straight.\n_How king Arthur marvelled much of the justing in the field, and how he\n rode and found Sir Launcelot._\nSo this tournament and this justs dured long, till it was near night,\nfor the knights of the Round Table relieved ever unto king Arthur; for\nthe king was wroth out of measure that he and his knights might not\nprevail that day. Then Sir Gawaine said to the king, I marvel where all\nthis day Sir Bors de Ganis and his fellowship of Sir Launcelot\u2019s blood\nbe. I marvel all this day they be not about you. It is for some cause,\nsaid Sir Gawaine. By my head, said Sir Kay, Sir Bors is yonder all this\nday upon the right hand of this field, and there he and his blood done\nmore worshipfully than we do. It may well be, said Sir Gawaine, but I\ndread me ever of guile, for on pain of my life, said Sir Gawaine, this\nknight with the red sleeve of gold is himself Sir Launcelot, I see well\nby his riding and by his great strokes, and the other knight in the\nsame colour is the good young knight Sir Lavaine. Also that knight with\nthe green shield is my brother Sir Gareth, and yet he hath disguised\nhimself, for no man shall never make him be against Sir Launcelot,\nbecause he made him knight. By my head, said Arthur, nephew, I believe\nyou, therefore tell me now what is your best counsel? Sir, said Sir\nGawaine, ye shall have my counsel. Let blow unto lodging, for, and he\nbe Sir Launcelot du Lake, and my brother Sir Gareth with him, with the\nhelp of that good young knight Sir Lavaine, trust me truly it will be\nno boot to strive with them, but if we should fall ten or twelve upon\none knight, and that were no worship, but shame. Ye say truth, said the\nking, and for to say sooth, said the king, it were shame to us, so many\nas we be, to set upon them any more. For wit ye well, said the king,\nthey be three good knights, and namely that knight with the sleeve of\ngold. So then they blew unto lodging; but forthwithal king Arthur let\nsend unto the four kings, and to the mighty duke, and prayed them that\nthe knight with the sleeve of gold depart not from them, but that the\nking may speak with him. Then forthwithal king Arthur alight, and\nunarmed him, and took a little hackney, and rode after Sir Launcelot,\nfor ever he had a spy upon him; and so he found him among the four\nkings and the duke, and there the king prayed them all unto supper. And\nthey said they would with good will. And so when they were unarmed,\nthen king Arthur knew Sir Launcelot, Sir Lavaine, and Sir Gareth. Ah\nSir Launcelot, said king Arthur, this day ye have heated me and my\nknights. So they went unto Arthur\u2019s lodging all together, and there was\na great feast and great revel, and the prize was given unto Sir\nLauncelot, and by heralds they named him that he had smitten down fifty\nknights, and Sir Gareth five and thirty, and Sir Lavaine four and\ntwenty knights. Then Sir Launcelot told the king and the queen how the\nlady huntress shot him in the forest of Windsor in the thigh with a\nbroad arrow, and how the wound thereof was that time six inches deep,\nand in like long. Also Arthur blamed Sir Gareth, because he left his\nfellowship and held with Sir Launcelot. My lord, said Sir Gareth, he\nmade me a knight, and when I saw him so hard bestad, me thought it was\nmy worship to help him, for I saw him do so much, and so many noble\nknights against him. And when I understood that he was Sir Launcelot du\nLake I shamed to see so many knights against him alone. Truly, said\nking Arthur unto Sir Gareth, ye say well, and worshipfully have ye\ndone, and to yourself great worship, and all the days of my life, said\nking Arthur unto Sir Gareth, wit you well I shall love you and trust\nyou the more better. For ever, said Arthur, it is a worshipful knight\u2019s\ndeed to help another worshipful knight when he seeth him in a great\ndanger, for ever a worshipful man will be loth to see a worshipful\nshamed, and he that is of no worship, and fareth with cowardice, never\nshall he shew gentleness, nor no manner of goodness, where he seeth a\nman in any danger, for then ever will a coward shew no mercy, and\nalways a good man will do ever to another man as he would be done to\nhimself. So then there were great feasts unto kings and dukes; and\nrevel, game, and play, and all manner of nobleness was used; and he\nthat was courteous, true, and faithful to his friend, was that time\ncherished.\n_How true love is likened to summer._\nAnd thus it passed on from Candlemas until after Easter, that the month\nof May was come, when every lusty heart beginneth to blossom and to\nbring forth fruit; for like as herbs and trees bring forth fruit and\nflourish in May, in likewise every lusty heart, that is in any manner a\nlover, springeth and flourisheth in lusty deeds. For it giveth unto all\nlovers courage, that lusty month of May, in some thing to constrain him\nto some manner of thing, more in that month than in any other month,\nfor divers causes. For then all herbs and trees renew a man and woman,\nand in likewise lovers call again to their mind old gentleness and old\nservice, and many kind deeds that were forgotten by negligence. For\nlike as winter rasure doth always arase and deface green summer, so\nfareth it by unstable love in man and woman. For in many persons there\nis no stability, for we may see all day, for a little blast of winter\u2019s\nrasure, anon we shall deface and lay apart true love for little or\nnought, that cost much thing. This is no wisdom nor stability, but it\nis feebleness of nature and great disworship whosoever useth this.\nTherefore, like as May month flowereth and flourisheth in many gardens,\nso in likewise let every man of worship flourish his heart in this\nworld, first unto God, and next unto the joy of them that he promised\nhis faith unto, for there was never worshipful man nor worshipful\nwoman, but they loved one better than another: and worship in arms may\nnever be foiled, but first reserve the honour to God, and secondly the\nquarrel must come of thy lady: and such love I call virtuous love. But\nnow-a-days men cannot love seven night but they must have all their\ndesires, that love may not endure by reason; for where they be soon\naccorded, and hasty heat, soon it cooleth. Right so fareth love\nnow-a-days; soon hot, soon cold. This is no stability, but the old love\nwas not so. Men and women could love together seven years, and no\nwanton lusts were between them, and then was love truth and\nfaithfulness. And lo in likewise was used love in king Arthur\u2019s days.\nWherefore I liken love now-a-days unto summer and winter. For like as\nthe one is hot and the other cold, so fareth love now-a-days. Therefore\nall ye that be lovers call unto your remembrance the month of May, like\nas did queen Guenever. For whom I make here a little mention, that\nwhile she lived she was a true lover, and therefore she had a good end.\n Explicit liber Octodecimus. And here foloweth liber xix.\n_How queen Guenever rode on Maying with certain knights of the Round\n Table and clad all in green._\nSo it befell in the month of May, queen Guenever called unto her\nknights of the Table Round, and she gave them warning that early upon\nthe morrow she would ride on maying into woods and fields beside\nWestminster.\u2014And I warn you that there be none of you but that he be\nwell horsed, and that ye all be clothed in green, either in silk,\neither in cloth, and I shall bring with me ten ladies, and every knight\nshall have a lady behind him, and every knight shall have a squire and\ntwo yeomen, and I will that ye all be well horsed. So they made them\nready in the freshest manner, and these were the names of the knights:\nSir Kay the seneschal, Sir Agravaine, Sir Brandiles, Sir Sagramor le\nDesirous, Sir Dodinas le Savage, Sir Ozanna le Cure Hardy, Sir Ladinas\nof the Forest Savage, Sir Persant of Inde, Sir Ironside that was called\nthe knight of the red lawns, and Sir Pelleas the lover, and these ten\nknights made them ready in the freshest manner to ride with the queen.\nAnd so upon the morn they took their horses, with the queen, and rode\non maying in woods and meadows, as it pleased them, in great joy and\ndelights: for the queen had cast to have been again with king Arthur at\nthe furthest by ten of the clock, and so was that time her purpose.\nThen there was a knight, that hight Meliagrance, and he was son unto\nking Bagdemagus, and this knight had at that time a castle, of the gift\nof king Arthur, within seven mile of Westminster; and this knight Sir\nMeliagrance loved passing well queen Guenever, and so had he done long\nand many years. And the book saith he had lain in a wait for to steal\naway the queen, but evermore he forbare for because of Sir Launcelot,\nfor in no wise he would meddle with the queen, and Sir Launcelot were\nin her company, or else and he were near hand her. And that time was\nsuch a custom the queen rode never without a great fellowship of men of\narms about her; and they were many good knights, and the most part were\nyoung men that would have worship, and they were called the queen\u2019s\nknights, and never in no battle, tournament, nor justs, they bare none\nof them no manner of knowledging of their own arms, but plain white\nshields, and thereby they were called the queen\u2019s knights. And then\nwhen it happed any of them to be of great worship by his noble deeds,\nthen at the next feast of Pentecost, if there were any slain or dead,\nas there was no year that there failed but some were dead, then was\nthere chosen in his stead that was dead the most men of worship that\nwere called the queen\u2019s knights. And thus they came up all first, or\nthey were renowned men of worship, both Sir Launcelot and all the\nremnant of them. But this knight, Sir Meliagrance, had espied the queen\nwell and her purpose, and how Sir Launcelot was not with her, and how\nshe had no men of arms with her but the ten noble knights all arrayed\nin green for maying. Then he provided him a twenty men of arms and an\nhundred archers, for to destroy the queen and her knights, for he\nthought that time was the best season to take the queen.\n_How Sir Meliagraunce took the queen and all her knights, which were\n sore hurt in fighting._\nSo as the queen had mayed and all her knights, all were bedashed with\nherbs, mosses, and flowers, in the best manner and freshest. Right so\ncame out of a wood Sir Meliagrance with an eight score men well\nharnessed, as they should fight in a battle of arrest, and bad the\nqueen and her knights abide, for maugre their heads they should abide.\nTraitor knight, said queen Guenever, what castest thou for to do? Wilt\nthou shame thyself? Bethink thee how thou art a king\u2019s son, and knight\nof the Table Round, and thou to be about to dishonour the noble king\nthat made thee knight: thou shamest all knighthood and thyself, and me,\nI let thee wit, shalt thou never shame, for I had lever cut my throat\nin twain than thou shouldest dishonour me. As for all this language,\nsaid Sir Meliagrance, be it as it may, for wit you well, madam, I have\nloved you many a year, and never or now could I get you at such an\nadvantage as I do now, and therefore I will take you as I find you.\nThen spake all the ten noble knights at once, and said, Sir\nMeliagrance, wit thou well ye are about to jeopard your worship to\ndishonour, and also ye cast to jeopard our persons; howbeit we be\nunarmed, ye have us at a great avail, for it seemeth by you that ye\nhave laid watch upon us, but rather then ye should put the queen to\nshame, and us all, we had as lief to depart from our lives, for and if\nwe other ways did we were shamed for ever. Then Sir Meliagrance said,\nDress you as well as ye can, and keep the queen. Then the ten knights\nof the Table Round drew their swords, and the other let run at them\nwith their spears, and the ten knights manly abode them, and smote away\ntheir spears, that no spear did them none harm. Then they lashed\ntogether with swords, and anon Sir Kay, Sir Sagramor, Sir Agravaine,\nSir Dodinas, Sir Ladinas, and Sir Ozanna, were smitten to the earth\nwith grimly wounds. Then Sir Brandiles, and Sir Persant, Sir Ironside,\nSir Pelleas, fought long, and they were sore wounded: for these ten\nknights, or ever they were laid to the ground, slew forty men of the\nboldest and the best of them. So when the queen saw her knights thus\ndolefully wounded, and needs must be slain at the last, then for pity\nand sorrow she cried, Sir Meliagrance, slay not my noble knights, and I\nwill go with thee upon this covenant, that thou save them, and suffer\nthem not to be no more hurt, with this, that they be led with me\nwheresoever thou leadest me; for I will rather slay myself than I will\ngo with thee, unless that these my noble knights may be in my presence.\nMadam, said Meliagrance, for your sake they shall be led with you into\nmine own castle, with that ye will be ruled and ride with me. Then the\nqueen prayed the four knights to leave their fighting, and she and they\nwould not part. Madam, said Sir Pelleas, we will do as ye do, for as\nfor me I take no force of my life nor death. For, as the French book\nsaith, Sir Pelleas gave such buffets there that none armour might hold\nhim.\n_How Sir Launcelot had word how the queen was taken, and how Sir\n Meliagraunce laid a bushment for Launcelot._\nThen by the queen\u2019s commandment they left battle, and dressed the\nwounded knights on horseback, some sitting, some overthwart their\nhorses, that it was pity to behold them. And then Sir Meliagrance\ncharged the queen and all her knights that none of all her fellowship\nshould depart from her; for full sore he drad Sir Launcelot du Lake,\nlest he should have any knowledging. All this espied the queen, and\nprivily she called unto her a child of her chamber, that was swiftly\nhorsed, to whom she said, Go thou, when thou seest thy time, and bear\nthis ring unto Sir Launcelot du Lake, and pray him as he loveth me,\nthat he will see me, and rescue me if ever he will have joy of me; and\nspare thou not thy horse, said the queen, neither for water, neither\nfor land. So the child espied his time, and lightly he took his horse\nwith the spurs, and departed as fast as he might. And when Sir\nMeliagrance saw him so flee, he understood that it was by the queen\u2019s\ncommandment for to warn Sir Launcelot. Then they that were best horsed\nchased him, and shot at him, but from them all the child went suddenly;\nand then Sir Meliagrance said unto the queen, Madam, ye are about to\nbetray me, but I shall ordain for Sir Launcelot that he shall not come\nlightly at you. And then he rode with her and they all to his castle in\nall the haste that he might. And by the way Sir Meliagrance laid in an\nenbushment the best archers that he might get in his country, to the\nnumber of a thirty, to await upon Sir Launcelot, charging them that if\nthey saw such a manner of knight come by the way upon a white horse,\nthat in any wise they slay his horse, but in no manner of wise have not\nado with him bodily, for he is over hard to be overcome. So this was\ndone, and they were come to his castle, but in no wise the queen would\nnever let none of the ten knights and her ladies out of her sight, but\nalways they were in her presence, for the book saith Sir Meliagrance\ndurst make no masteries for dread of Sir Launcelot, in so much he\ndeemed that he had warning. So when the child was departed from the\nfellowship of Sir Meliagrance, within awhile he came to Westminster.\nAnd anon he found Sir Launcelot. And when he had told his message, and\ndelivered him the queen\u2019s ring, Alas, said Sir Launcelot, now am I\nshamed for ever, unless that I may rescue that noble lady from\ndishonour. Then eagerly he asked his armour, and ever the child told\nSir Launcelot how the ten knights fought marvellously, and how Sir\nPelleas, and Sir Ironside, and Sir Brandiles, and Sir Persant of Inde,\nfought strongly, but namely Sir Pelleas, there might none withstand\nhim, and how they all fought till at the last they were laid to the\nearth, and then the queen made appointment for to save their lives, and\ngo with Sir Meliagrance. Alas, said Sir Launcelot, that most noble\nlady, that she should be so destroyed! I had lever, said Sir Launcelot,\nthan all France that I had been there well armed. So when Sir Launcelot\nwas armed and upon his horse, he prayed the child of the queen\u2019s\nchamber to warn Sir Lavaine how suddenly he was departed, and for what\ncause,\u2014And pray him, as he loveth me, that he will hie him after me,\nand that he stint not until he come to the castle where Sir Meliagrance\nabideth or dwelleth, for there, said Sir Launcelot, shall he hear of me\nand I am a man living, and rescue the queen and the ten knights the\nwhich he traitorously hath taken, and that shall I prove upon his head,\nand all them that hold with him.\n_How Sir Launcelot\u2019s horse was slain, and how Sir Launcelot rode in a\n cart for to rescue the queen._\nThen Sir Launcelot rode as fast as he might, and the book saith he took\nthe water at Westminster bridge, and made his horse to swim over Thames\nto Lambeth. And then within a while he came to the place there as the\nten knights had fought with Sir Meliagrance, and then Sir Launcelot\nfollowed that track until that he came to a wood, and there was a\nstrait way, and there the thirty archers bad Sir Launcelot turn again,\nand follow no longer that track. What commandment have ye thereto, said\nSir Launcelot, to cause me, that am a knight of the Round Table, to\nleave my right way? This way shalt thou leave, or else thou shalt go it\non thy foot, for wit thou well thy horse shall be slain. That is little\nmastery, said Sir Launcelot, to slay my horse, but as for myself, when\nmy horse is slain, I give right nought for you, not and ye were five\nhundred more. So then they shot Sir Launcelot\u2019s horse, and smote him\nwith many arrows. And then Sir Launcelot avoided his horse, and went on\nfoot: but there were so many ditches and hedges betwixt them and him,\nthat he might not meddle with none of them. Alas, for shame, said\nLauncelot, that ever one knight should betray another knight, but it is\nan old saw, A good man is never in danger but when he is in the danger\nof a coward. Then Sir Launcelot went a while, and then he was foul\ncumbered of his armour, his shield, and his spear, and all that longed\nunto him. Wit ye well he was full sore annoyed, and full loth he was to\nleave any thing that longed unto him, for he drad sore the treason of\nSir Meliagrance. And then by fortune there came by a chariot, that came\nthither for to fetch wood. Say me, carter, said Sir Launcelot, what\nshall I give thee for to suffer me to leap into thy chariot, and that\nthou bring me unto a castle within this two mile? Thou shalt not come\nwithin my chariot, said the carter, for I am sent for to fetch wood for\nmy lord Sir Meliagrance.\u2014With him would I speak.\u2014Thou shalt not go\nwith me, said the carter. Then Sir Launcelot lept to him, and gave him\nsuch a buffet that he fell to the earth stark dead. Then the other\ncarter his fellow was afeard, and wend to have gone the same way, and\nthen he cried, Fair lord, save my life, and I shall bring you where you\nwill. Then I charge thee, said Sir Launcelot, that thou drive me and\nthis chariot, even unto Sir Meliagrance\u2019s gate. Leap up into the\nchariot, said the carter, and ye shall be there anon. So the carter\ndrove on a great wallop, and Sir Launcelot\u2019s horse followed the\nchariot, with more than a forty arrows broad and rough in him: and more\nthan an hour and an half dame Guenever was in a bay window with her\nladies, and espied an armed knight standing in a chariot. See madam,\nsaid a lady, where rideth in a chariot a goodly armed knight, I suppose\nhe rideth unto hanging. Where? said the queen. Then she espied by his\nshield that he was there himself Sir Launcelot du Lake. And then she\nwas ware where came his horse ever after that chariot, and ever he trod\nhis entrails and his paunch under his feet. Alas, said the queen, now I\nsee well and prove that well is him that hath a trusty friend. Ha, a,\nmost noble knight, I see well thou art hard bestad when thou ridest in\na chariot. Then she rebuked that lady that likened Sir Launcelot to\nride in a chariot to hanging. It was foul mouthed, said the queen, and\nevil likened, so for to liken the most noble knight of the world unto\nsuch a shameful death. O Jesu defend him and keep him, said the queen,\nfrom all mischievous end! By this was Sir Launcelot come to the gates\nof that castle, and there he descended down, and cried, that all the\ncastle rang of it, Where art thou, false traitor Sir Meliagrance, and\nknight of the Table Round? Now come forth here thou traitor knight,\nthou and thy fellowship with thee: for here I am, Sir Launcelot du\nLake, that shall fight with you. And therewithal he bare the gate wide\nopen upon the porter, and smote him under his ear with his gauntlet\nthat his neck brast in sunder.\n_How Sir Meliagraunce required forgiveness of the queen, and how she\n appeased Sir Launcelot, and other matters._\nWhen Sir Meliagrance heard that Sir Launcelot was there, he ran unto\nqueen Guenever, and fell upon his knee, and said, Mercy, madam, now I\nput me wholly into your grace. What aileth you now? said queen\nGuenever. Forsooth I might well wit some good knight would revenge me,\nthough my lord Arthur wist not of this your work. Madam, said Sir\nMeliagrance, all this that is amiss on my part shall be amended right\nas yourself will devise, and wholly I put me in your grace. What would\nye that I did? said the queen. I would no more, said Meliagrance, but\nthat ye would take all in your own hands, and that ye will rule my lord\nSir Launcelot, and such cheer as may be made him in this poor castle ye\nand he shall have until to-morn, and then may ye and all they return\nunto Westminster, and my body and all that I have I shall put in your\nrule. Ye say well, said the queen, and better is peace than ever war,\nand the less noise the more is my worship. Then the queen and her\nladies went down unto the knight Sir Launcelot, that stood wroth out of\nmeasure in the inner court, to abide battle; and ever he bade\u2014Thou\ntraitor knight, come forth! Then the queen came to him and said, Sir\nLauncelot, why be ye so moved? Ha, madam, said Sir Launcelot, why ask\nye me that question? me seemeth, said Sir Launcelot, ye ought to be\nmore wroth than I am, for ye have the hurt and the dishonour. For wit\nye well, madam, my hurt is but little, for the killing of a mare\u2019s son;\nbut the despite grieveth me much more than all my hurt. Truly, said the\nqueen, ye say truth, but heartily I thank you, said the queen, but ye\nmust come in with me peaceably, for all thing is put in my hand, and\nall that is evil shall be for the best, for the knight full sore\nrepenteth him of the misadventure that is befallen him. Madam, said Sir\nLauncelot, sith it is so that ye are accorded with him, as for me I may\nnot be against it, howbeit Sir Meliagrance hath done full shamefully to\nme, and cowardly. Ah, madam, and I had wist ye would have been so soon\naccorded with him, I would not have made such haste unto you. Why say\nye so? said the queen, do ye forthink yourself of your good deeds? Wit\nyou well, said the queen, I accorded never unto him for favour nor love\nthat I had unto him, but for to lay down every shameful noise. Madam,\nsaid Sir Launcelot, ye understand full well I was never willing nor\nglad of shameful slander, nor noise; and there is neither king, queen,\nnor knight, that beareth the life, except my lord king Arthur, and you,\nmadam, that should let me, but I should make Sir Meliagrance\u2019s heart\nfull cold or ever I departed from hence. That I wot well, said the\nqueen, but what will ye more? ye shall have all thing ruled as ye list\nto have it. Madam, said Sir Launcelot, so ye be pleased I care not, as\nfor my part ye shall soon please. Right so the queen took Sir Launcelot\nby the bare hand, for he had put off his gauntlet, and so she went with\nhim till her chamber; and then she commanded him to be unarmed, and\nthen Sir Launcelot asked where the ten knights were that were wounded\nsore. So she shewed them unto Sir Launcelot, and there they made great\njoy of the coming of him, and Sir Launcelot made great dole of their\nhurts, and bewailed them greatly; and there Sir Launcelot told them how\ncowardly and traitorly Meliagrance set archers to slay his horse, and\nhow he was fain to put himself in a chariot. Thus they complained every\neach to other, and full fain they would have been revenged, but they\npeaced themself because of the queen. Then, as the French book saith,\nSir Launcelot was called many a day after, Le Chevaler du Chariot, and\ndid many deeds, and great adventures he had. And so leave we of this\ntale, Le Chevaler du Chariot, and turn we to this tale.\nSo Sir Launcelot had great cheer with the queen, and then Sir Launcelot\nmade a promise with the queen, that the same night Sir Launcelot should\ncome to a window outward toward a garden, and that window was y-barred\nwith iron; and there Sir Launcelot promised to meet her when all folks\nwere on sleep. So then came Sir Lavaine, driving to the gates, crying,\nWhere is my lord Sir Launcelot du Lake? Then was he sent for, and when\nSir Lavaine saw Sir Launcelot, he said: My lord, I found well how ye\nwere hard bestad, for I have found your horse, that was slain with\narrows. As for that, said Sir Launcelot, I pray you Sir Lavaine speak\nye of other matters, and let ye this pass, and we shall right it\nanother time, when we best may.\n_How Sir Launcelot came in the night to the queen, and how Sir\n Meliagraunce appeached the queen of treason._\nThen the knights that were hurt were searched, and soft salves were\nlaid to their wounds, and so it passed on till supper time; and all the\ncheer that might be made them there was done unto the queen and all her\nknights. Then when season was they went unto their chambers. But in no\nwise the queen would not suffer the wounded knights to be from her, but\nthat they were laid within draughts by her chamber, upon beds and\npillows, that she herself might see to them, that they wanted nothing.\nSo when Launcelot was in his chamber that was assigned unto him, he\ncalled unto Sir Lavaine, and told him that he must go speak with his\nlady, dame Guenever. Sir, said Sir Lavaine, let me go with you, and it\nplease you, for I dread me sore of the treason of Sir Meliagrance. Nay,\nsaid Sir Launcelot, I thank you, but I will have nobody with me. Then\nSir Launcelot took his sword in his hand, and privily went unto a place\nwhereas he had espied a ladder toforehand, and that he took under his\narm and bare it through the garden, and set it up to the window. And\nthere anon the queen was ready to meet him. And then they made either\nto other their complaints of many divers things. And then Sir Launcelot\nwished that he might have come in to her. Wit ye well, said the queen,\nI would as fain as ye that ye might come in to me. Would ye, madam,\nsaid Sir Launcelot, with your heart that I were with you? Yea truly,\nsaid the queen. Now shall I prove my might, said Sir Launcelot, for\nyour love. And then he set his hands upon the bars of iron, and pulled\nat them with such a might that he brast them clean out of the stone\nwalls. And therewithal one of the bars of iron cut the brawn of his\nhands throughout to the bone, and then he lept into the chamber to the\nqueen. Make ye no noise, said the queen, for my wounded knights lie\nhere fast by me. And when he saw his time that he might tarry no\nlonger, he took his leave and departed at the window, and put it\ntogether as well as he might again, and so departed unto his own\nchamber; and there he told Sir Lavaine how he was hurt; then Sir\nLavaine dressed his hand, and staunched it, and put upon it a glove,\nthat it should not be espied. And so the queen lay long in her bed,\nuntil it was nine of the clock. Then Sir Meliagrance went to the\nqueen\u2019s chamber, and found her ladies there ready clothed. Mercy, said\nSir Meliagrance, what aileth you, madam, that ye sleep thus long? And\nthen was he ware of the blood of Sir Launcelot\u2019s hurt hand. And when\nSir Meliagrance espied that blood, then he deemed in himself that she\nwas false unto the king, and that it was the blood of some of the\nwounded knights. Ah, madam, said Sir Meliagrance, now I have founden\nyou a false traitress unto my lord Arthur; for now I prove well it was\nnot for nought that ye laid these wounded knights within the bounds of\nyour chamber: therefore I will call you of treason before my lord king\nArthur, and now I have proved you, madam, with a shameful deed, and\nthat they be all false, or some of them, I will make good, for a\nwounded knight hath been here. That is false, said the queen, and that\nI will report me to them all. Then when the ten knights heard Sir\nMeliagrance\u2019s words, they spake all in one voice and said unto Sir\nMeliagrance, Thou sayest falsely, and wrongfully puttest upon us such a\ndeed, and that we will make good any of us, choose which thou list of\nus, when we are whole of our wounds. Ye shall not, said Sir\nMeliagrance, away with your proud language, for here ye may all see\nthat a wounded knight hath been here. Then were they all ashamed when\nthey saw that blood, and wit you well Sir Meliagrance was passing glad\nthat he had the queen at such an advantage, for he deemed by that to\nhide his treason. So with this rumour came in Sir Launcelot, and found\nthem all at a great array.\n_How Sir Launcelot answered for the queen, and waged battle against Sir\n Meliagraunce. And how Sir Launcelot was taken in a trap._\nWhat array is this? said Sir Launcelot. Then Sir Meliagrance told him\nwhat he had found, and shewed him the blood. Truly, said Sir Launcelot,\nye did not your part nor knightly toward the queen, and therefore have\nye done unworshipfully and shamefully to yourself. I wot not what ye\nmean, said Sir Meliagrance, but well I am sure there hath been one of\nher wounded knights here, and therefore I will prove with my hands that\nshe is a traitress unto my lord Arthur. Beware what ye do, said Sir\nLauncelot, for and ye say so, and that ye will prove it, it will be\ntaken at your hands. My lord Sir Launcelot, said Sir Meliagrance, I\nrede you beware what ye do, for though ye are never so good a knight,\nas ye wot well that ye are renowned the best knight of the world, yet\nshould ye be advised to do battle in a wrong quarrel, for God will have\na stroke in every battle. As for that, said Sir Launcelot, God is to be\ndread. But as to that I say nay plainly, that this night none of these\nten wounded knights was here with my lady queen Guenever, and that will\nI prove with my hands, that ye say untruly in that now. Hold, said Sir\nMeliagrance, here is my glove, that she is traitress unto my lord king\nArthur, and that one of the wounded knights was here. And I receive\nyour glove, said Sir Launcelot. And so they were sealed with their\nsignets, and delivered unto the ten knights. At what day shall we do\nbattle together? said Sir Launcelot. This day eight days, said Sir\nMeliagrance, in the field beside Westminster. I am agreed, said Sir\nLauncelot. But now, said Sir Meliagrance, sithen it is that we must\nfight together, I beseech you, as ye are a noble knight, await me with\nno treason, nor none villainy the meanwhile, nor none for you. So God\nme help, said Sir Launcelot, ye shall right well wit I was never of no\nsuch conditions, for I report me to all knights that ever have known\nme, I fared never with no treason, nor I loved never the fellowship of\nno man that fared with treason. Then let us go to dinner, said\nMeliagrance, and after dinner ye and the queen and ye may ride all to\nWestminster. I will well, said Sir Launcelot. And Sir Meliagrance said\nto Sir Launcelot, Pleaseth it you to see the eftures of this castle?\nWith a good will, said Sir Launcelot. And then they went together from\nchamber to chamber, for Sir Launcelot dread no perils. For ever a man\nof worship and of prowess dreadeth least always perils: for they ween\nevery man be as they be. But ever he that fareth with treason putteth\noft a man in great danger. So it befell upon Sir Launcelot that no\nperil dread. As he went with Sir Meliagrance, he trod on a trap, and\nthe board rolled, and therewith Sir Launcelot fell down more than ten\nfathom into a cave full of straw. And then Sir Meliagrance departed,\nand made no fare as that he nist where he was. And when Sir Launcelot\nwas thus missed, they marvelled where he was become. And then queen\nGuenever and many of them deemed that he was departed as he was wont to\ndo, suddenly. For Sir Meliagrance made suddenly to put away on side Sir\nLavaine\u2019s horse, that they might all understand that Sir Launcelot was\ndeparted suddenly. So it past on till after dinner, and then Sir\nLavaine would not stint until that he ordained litters for the wounded\nknights, that they might be laid in them, and so with the queen and\nthem all, both ladies and gentlewomen and other, went unto Westminster,\nand there the knights told king Arthur how Meliagrance had appealed the\nqueen of high treason, and how Sir Launcelot had received the glove of\nhim, and this day eight days they shall do battle afore you. By my\nhead, said king Arthur, I am afeard Sir Meliagrance hath taken upon him\na great charge. But where is Sir Launcelot? said the king. Sir, said\nthey all, we wot not where he is, but we deem he is ridden to some\nadventures, as he is ofttimes wont to do, for he hath Sir Lavaine\u2019s\nhorse. Let him be, said the king, he will be founden, but if he be\ntrapped with some treason.\n_How Sir Launcelot was delivered out of prison by a lady, and took a\n white courser, and came for to keep his day._\nSo leave we Sir Launcelot, lying within that cave in great pain, and\nevery day there came a lady and brought him his meat and his drink, and\nwooed him to love her. And ever the noble knight Sir Launcelot said her\nnay. Sir Launcelot, said she, ye are not wise, for ye may never out of\nthis prison but if ye have my help, and also your lady queen Guenever\nshall be burnt in your default, unless that ye be there at the day of\nbattle. God defend, said Sir Launcelot, that she should be burnt in my\ndefault: and if it be so, said Sir Launcelot, that I may not be there,\nit shall be well understood both at the king and at the queen, and with\nall men of worship, that I am dead, sick, or in prison. For all men\nthat know me will say for me that I am in some evil case, and I be not\nthere that day, and well I wot there is some good knight, either of my\nblood, or some other that loveth me, that will take my quarrel in hand:\nand, therefore, said Sir Launcelot, wit ye well ye shall not fear me.\nAnd if there were no more women in all this land but you, I would not\nsay otherwise. Then art thou shamed, said the lady, and destroyed for\never. As for world\u2019s shame, Jesu defend me; and as for my distress, it\nis welcome, whatsoever it be that God sendeth me. So she came to him\nthe same day that the battle should be, and said, Sir Launcelot, me\nthinketh ye are too hard-hearted, but wouldest thou but kiss me once I\nshould deliver thee and thine armour, and the best horse that is within\nSir Meliagrance\u2019s stable. As for to kiss you, said Sir Launcelot, I may\ndo that, and lose no worship, and wit ye well, and I understood there\nwere any disworship for to kiss you, I would not do it. Then he kissed\nher, and then she gat him and brought him to his armour. And when he\nwas armed, she brought him to a stable, where stood twelve good\ncoursers, and bad him choose the best. Then Sir Launcelot looked upon a\nwhite courser, the which liked him best, and anon he commanded the\nkeepers fast to saddle him with the best saddle of war that there was,\nand so it was done as he bade. Then gat he his spear in his hand, and\nhis sword by his side, and commanded the lady unto God, and said, Lady,\nfor this good deed I shall do you service if ever it be in my power.\n_How Sir Launcelot came the same time that Sir Meliagraunce abode him\n in the field, and dressed him to battle._\nNow leave we Sir Launcelot gallop all that he might, and speak we of\nqueen Guenever that was brought to a fire to be burnt, for Sir\nMeliagrance was sure, him thought, that Sir Launcelot should not be at\nthat battle, therefore he ever cried upon king Arthur to do him\njustice, or else bring forth Sir Launcelot du Lake. Then was the king\nand all the court full sore abashed and shamed that the queen should be\nburnt in the default of Sir Launcelot. My lord Arthur, said Sir\nLavaine, ye may understand that it is not well with my lord Sir\nLauncelot, for and he were on live, so that he be not sick or in\nprison, wit ye well he would be here, for never heard ye that ever he\nfailed his part for whom he should do battle for. And therefore, said\nSir Lavaine, my lord king Arthur, I beseech you give me licence to do\nbattle here this day for my lord and master, and for to save my lady\nthe queen. Gramercy, gentle knight, Sir Lavaine, said king Arthur, for\nI dare say all that Sir Meliagrance putteth upon my lady the queen is\nwrong, for I have spoken with all the ten wounded knights, and there is\nnot one of them, and he were whole and able to do battle, but he would\nprove upon Sir Meliagrance\u2019s body that it is false that he putteth upon\nmy queen. So shall I, said Sir Lavaine, in the defence of my lord Sir\nLauncelot, and ye will give me leave. Now I give you leave, said king\nArthur, and do your best, for I dare well say there is some treason\ndone to Sir Launcelot. Then was Sir Lavaine horsed, and suddenly at the\nlist\u2019s end he rode to perform this battle. And right as the heralds\nshould cry Lesses les aler, right so came in Sir Launcelot driving with\nall the force of his horse. And then Arthur cried, Ho! and Abide! Then\nwas Sir Launcelot called on horseback tofore king Arthur, and there he\ntold openly tofore the king and all, how Sir Meliagrance had served him\nfirst and last. And when the king and the queen and all the lords knew\nof the treason of Sir Meliagrance, they were all ashamed on his behalf.\nThen was queen Guenever sent for, and set by the king in great trust of\nher champion. And then there was no more else to say, but Sir Launcelot\nand Sir Meliagrance dressed them unto battle, and took their spears,\nand so they came together as thunder, and there Sir Launcelot bare him\ndown quite over his horse croup. And then Sir Launcelot alight, and\ndressed his shield on his shoulder with his sword in his hand, and Sir\nMeliagrance in the same wise dressed him unto him, and there they smote\nmany great strokes together, and at the last Sir Launcelot smote him\nsuch a buffet upon the helmet, that he fell on the one side to the\nearth, and then he cried upon him aloud, Most noble knight, Sir\nLauncelot du Lake, save my life, for I yield me unto you, and I beseech\nyou, as ye be a knight and fellow of the Table Round, slay me not, for\nI yield me as overcomen, and whether I shall live or die I put me in\nthe king\u2019s hands and yours. Then Sir Launcelot wist not what to do, for\nhe had lever than all the good of the world he might have been revenged\nupon Sir Meliagrance; and Sir Launcelot looked toward queen Guenever if\nhe might espy by any sign or countenance what she would have done. And\nthen the queen wagged her head upon Sir Launcelot, as though she would\nsay slay him. Full well knew Sir Launcelot by the wagging of her head\nthat she would have had him dead: then Sir Launcelot bad him rise for\nshame, and perform that battle to the utterance. Nay, said Sir\nMeliagrance, I will never arise until ye take me as yielden and\nrecreant. I shall proffer you large proffers, said Sir Launcelot, that\nis to say, I shall unarm my head and my left quarter of my body, all\nthat may be unarmed, and let bind my left hand behind me, so that it\nshall not help me, and right so I shall do battle with you. Then Sir\nMeliagrance start up upon his legs, and said on high, My lord Arthur,\ntake heed to this proffer, for I will take it, and let him be disarmed\nand bounden according to his proffer. What say ye, said king Arthur\nunto Sir Launcelot, will ye abide by your proffer? Yea, my lord, said\nSir Launcelot, I will never go from that I have once said. Then the\nknights parters of the field disarmed Sir Launcelot, first his head,\nand sithen his left arm and his left side, and they bound his left arm\nbehind his back, without shield or anything, and then they were put\ntogether. Wit you well there was many a lady and knight marvelled that\nSir Launcelot would jeopardy himself in such wise. Then Sir Meliagrance\ncame with his sword all on high, and Sir Launcelot shewed him openly\nhis bare head and the bare left side. And when he wend to have smitten\nhim upon the bare head, then lightly he avoided the left leg and the\nleft side, and put his right hand and his sword to that stroke, and so\nput it on side with great sleight, and then with great force Sir\nLauncelot smote him on the helmet such a buffet that the stroke carved\nthe head in two parts. Then there was no more to do but he was drawn\nout of the field. And at the great instance of the knights of the Table\nRound the king suffered him to be interred, and the mention made upon\nhim who slew him, and for what cause he was slain. And then the king\nand the queen made more of Sir Launcelot, and more he was cherished,\nthan ever he was aforehand.\n_How Sir Urre came into Arthur\u2019s court for to be healed of his wounds,\n and how king Arthur would begin to handle him._\nThen, as the French book maketh mention, there was a good knight in the\nland of Hungary, his name was Sir Urre, and he was an adventurous\nknight, and in all places where he might hear of any deeds of worship,\nthere would he be. So it happened in Spain there was an earl\u2019s son, his\nname was Alphegus, and at a great tournament in Spain this Sir Urre,\nknight of Hungary, and Sir Alphegus of Spain, encountered together for\nvery envy, and so either undertook other to the utterance, and by\nfortune Sir Urre slew Sir Alphegus, the earl\u2019s son of Spain. But this\nknight that was slain had given Sir Urre, or ever he was slain, seven\ngreat wounds, three on the head, and four on his body and upon his left\nhand. And this Sir Alphegus had a mother, the which was a great\nsorceress, and she, for the despite of her son\u2019s death, wrought by her\nsubtile crafts that Sir Urre should never be whole, but ever his wounds\nshould one time fester and another time bleed, so that he should never\nbe whole, until the best knight of the world had searched his wounds,\nand thus she made her avaunt, where through it was known that Sir Urre\nshould never be whole. Then his mother let make an horse-litter, and\nput him therein under two palfreys, and then she took Sir Urre\u2019s sister\nwith him, a full fair damsel, whose name was Felelolie, and then she\ntook a page with him to keep their horses, and so they led Sir Urre\nthrough many countries. For, as the French book saith, she led him so\nseven year through all lands christened, and never she could find no\nknight that might ease her son. So she came into Scotland, and into the\nlands of England, and by fortune she came nigh the feast of Pentecost\nuntil Arthur\u2019s court, that at that time was holden at Carlisle. And\nwhen she came there, then she made it openly to be known how that she\nwas come into that land for to heal her son.\nThen king Arthur let call the lady, and asked her the cause why she\nbrought that hurt knight into that land. My most noble king, said that\nlady, wit you well I brought him hither for to be healed of his wounds,\nthat of all this seven year he might not be whole. And then she told\nthe king where he was wounded, and of whom, and how his mother had\ndiscovered in her pride how she had wrought that by enchantment, so\nthat he should never be whole until the best knight of the world had\nsearched his wounds:\u2014And so I have passed through all the lands\nchristened to have him healed, except this land: and if I fail to heal\nhim here in this land, I will never take more pain upon me, and that is\npity, for he was a good knight, and of great nobleness. What is his\nname? said Arthur. My good and gracious lord, she said, his name is Sir\nUrre of the Mount. In good time, said the king, and sith ye are come\ninto this land ye are right welcome. And wit you well here shall your\nson be healed, and ever any christian man may heal him. And for to give\nall other men of worship courage I myself will assay to handle your\nson, and so shall all the kings, dukes, and earls that be here present\nwith me at this time; thereto will I command them, and well I wot they\nshall obey and do after my commandment. And wit you well, said king\nArthur unto Urre\u2019s sister, I shall begin to handle him and search unto\nmy power, not presuming upon me that I am so worthy to heal your son by\nmy deeds, but I will encourage other men of worship to do as I will do.\nAnd then the king commanded all the kings, dukes, and earls, and all\nnoble knights of the Round Table that were there that time present, to\ncome into the meadow of Carlisle. And so at that time there were but an\nhundred and ten of the Round Table, for forty knights were that time\naway. And so here we must begin at king Arthur, as is kindly to begin\nat him that was the most man of worship that was christened at that\ntime.\n_How king Arthur handled Sir Urre, and after him many other knights of\n the Round Table._\nThen king Arthur looked upon Sir Urre, and the king thought he was a\nfull likely man when he was whole. And king Arthur made him to be taken\ndown off the litter, and laid him upon the earth, and there was laid a\ncushion of gold that he should kneel upon. And then Arthur said, Noble\nfair knight, me repenteth of thy hurt, and for to courage all other\nnoble knights I will pray thee softly to suffer me to handle your\nwounds. Most noble christened king, said Urre, do as ye list, for I am\nat the mercy of God, and at your commandment. So then Arthur softly\nhandled him, and then some of his wounds renewed upon bleeding. Then\nthe king Clariance of Northumberland searched, and it would not be. And\nthen Sir Barant le Apres, that was called the king with the hundred\nknights, he assayed, and failed; and so did king Urience, of the land\nof Gore. So did king Anguissance of Ireland; so did king Nentres of\nGarloth; so did king Carados of Scotland; so did the duke Galahalt, the\nhaut prince; so did Constantine, that was Sir Carados\u2019s son, of\nCornwall; so did duke Chalance of Clarance; so did the earl Ulbause; so\ndid the earl Lambaile; so did the earl Aristause. Then came in Sir\nGawaine, with his three sons, Sir Gingalin, Sir Florence, and Sir\nLovel; these two were begotten upon Sir Brandiles\u2019s sister; and all\nthey failed. Then came in Sir Agravaine, Sir Gaheris, Sir Mordred, and\nthe good knight Sir Gareth, which was of very knighthood worth all the\nbrethren. So came knights of Launcelot\u2019s kin, but Sir Launcelot was not\nthat time in the court, for he was that time upon his adventures. Then\nSir Lionel, Sir Ector de Maris, Sir Bors de Ganis, Sir Blamor de Ganis,\nSir Bleoberis de Ganis, Sir Gahalantine, Sir Galihodin, Sir Menadeuke,\nSir Villiars the valiant, Sir Hebes le Renoumes. All these were of Sir\nLauncelot\u2019s kin, and all they failed. Then came in Sir Sagramor le\nDesirous, Sir Dodinas le Savage, Sir Dinadan, Sir Bruin le Noire, that\nSir Kay named la Cote Male Taile, and Sir Kay the seneschal, Sir Kay de\nStranges, Sir Meliot de Logris, Sir Petipase of Winchelsea, Sir\nGalleron of Galway, Sir Melion of the mountain, Sir Cardok, Sir Uwaine\nles Avoutres, and Sir Ozanna le Cure Hardy. Then came in Sir Astamore,\nand Sir Gromere, Grummor\u2019s son, Sir Crosselme, Sir Servause le Breuse,\nthat was called a passing strong knight. For, as the book saith, the\nchief Lady of the lake feasted this Sir Launcelot, and Sir Servause le\nBreuse, and when she had feasted them both at sundry times, she prayed\nthem to give her a boon, and they granted it her, and then she prayed\nSir Servause that he would promise her never to do battle against Sir\nLauncelot du Lake; and in the same wise she prayed Sir Launcelot never\nto do battle against Sir Servause; and so either promised her. For the\nFrench book saith that Sir Servause had never courage nor lust to do\nbattle against no man, but if it were against giants, and against\ndragons, and wild beasts. So we pass unto them that, at the king\u2019s\nrequest, made them all that were there at that high feast, as of the\nknights of the Table Round, for to search Sir Urre: to that intent the\nking did it, to wit which was the noblest knight among them.\nThen there came Sir Aglovale, Sir Durnore, Sir Tor, and king Pellinore\nbegat them all, first, Sir Tor, Sir Aglovale, Sir Durnore, Sir Lamorak,\nthe most noblest knight, one that ever was in Arthur\u2019s days as for a\nworldly knight, and Sir Percivale that was peerless, except Sir\nGalahad, in holy deeds, but they died in the quest of the Sancgreal.\nThen came Sir Griflet le Fise de Dieu, Sir Luca the botteler, Sir\nBedivere his brother, Sir Brandiles, Sir Constantine, Sir Cador\u2019s son\nof Cornwall, that was king after Arthur\u2019s days, and Sir Clegis, Sir\nSadok, Sir Dinas le seneschal of Cornwall, Sir Fergus, Sir Driant, Sir\nLambegus, Sir Clarrus of Cleremont, Sir Cloddrus, Sir Hectimere, Sir\nEdward of Carnarvan, Sir Dinas, Sir Priamus, that was christened by Sir\nTristram the noble knight, and these three were brethren; Sir Hellaine\nle Blank, that was son unto Sir Bors and king Brandegoris\u2019s daughter,\nand Sir Brian de Listinoise; Sir Gautere, Sir Reynold, Sir Gillemere,\nwere three brethren that Sir Launcelot won upon a bridge in Sir Kay\u2019s\narms. Sir Guiart le Petite, Sir Bellangere le Beuse, that was son to\nthe good knight Sir Alisander le Orphelin, that was slain by the\ntreason of king Mark. Also that traitor king slew the noble knight Sir\nTristram, as he sat harping afore his lady La Beale Isoud, with a\ntrenchant glaive, for whose death was much bewailing of every knight\nthat ever were in Arthur\u2019s days: there were never none so bewailed as\nwas Sir Tristram and Sir Lamorak, for they were traitorously slain, Sir\nTristram by king Mark, and Sir Lamorak by Sir Gawaine and his brethren.\nAnd this Sir Bellangere revenged the death of his father Alisander, and\nSir Tristram, slew king Mark, and La Beale Isoud died, swooning upon\nthe cross of Sir Tristram, whereof was great pity. And all that were\nwith king Mark, that were consenting to the death of Sir Tristram, were\nslain, as Sir Andred, and many other. Then came Sir Hebes, Sir\nMorganore, Sir Sentraile, Sir Suppinabiles, Sir Bellangere le Orgulous,\nthat the good knight Sir Lamorak wan in plain battle; Sir Nerovens, and\nSir Plenorius, two good knights that Sir Launcelot wan; Sir Darras, Sir\nHarry le Fise Lake, Sir Erminide, brother to king Hermance for whom Sir\nPalamides fought at the red city with two brethren; and Sir Selises of\nthe dolorous tower, Sir Edward of Orkney, and Sir Ironside, that was\ncalled the noble knight of the red lawns, that Sir Gareth wan for the\nlove of dame Liones; Sir Arrok de Grevant, Sir Degrane Sance Vilany,\nthat fought with the giant of the black lowe; Sir Epinogris, that was\nthe king\u2019s son of Northumberland; Sir Pelleas, that loved the lady\nEttard, and he had died for her love, had not been one of the ladies of\nthe lake, her name was dame Nimue, and she wedded Sir Pelleas, and she\nsaved him that he was never slain, and he was a full noble knight; and\nSir Lamiel of Cardiff, that was a great lover; Sir Plaine de Force, Sir\nMeleaus de Lile, Sir Bobart le Cure Hardy, that was king Arthur\u2019s son,\nSir Mador de la Porte, Sir Colgrevance, Sir Hervise de la Forest\nSavage, Sir Marrok, the good knight that was betrayed with his wife,\nfor she made him seven year a werwolf; Sir Persant, Sir Pertilope his\nbrother, that was called the green knight, and Sir Perimones, brother\nto them both, that was called the red knight, that Sir Gareth wan when\nhe was called Beaumains. All these hundred knights and ten searched Sir\nUrre\u2019s wounds, by the commandment of king Arthur.\n_How Sir Launcelot was commanded by Arthur to handle his wounds, and\n anon he was all whole, and how they thanked God._\nMercy, said king Arthur, where is Sir Launcelot du Lake, that he is not\nhere at this time? Thus as they stood and spake of many things, there\nwas espied Sir Launcelot, that came riding toward them, and told the\nking. Peace, said the king, let no manner thing be said until he be\ncome to us. So when Sir Launcelot espied king Arthur he descended from\nhis horse, and came to the king, and saluted him, and them all. Anon as\nthe maid, Sir Urre\u2019s sister, saw Sir Launcelot, she ran to her brother\nthere as he lay in his litter, and said, Brother, here is come a knight\nthat my heart giveth greatly unto. Fair sister, said Sir Urre, so doth\nmy heart light against him, and certainly I hope now to be healed, for\nmy heart giveth unto him more than to all these that have searched me.\nThen said king Arthur unto Sir Launcelot, Ye must do as we have done;\nand told Sir Launcelot what they had done, and shewed him them all that\nhad searched him. Heaven defend me, said Sir Launcelot, when so many\nkings and knights have assayed and failed, that I should presume upon\nme to achieve that all ye my lords might not achieve. Ye shall not\nchoose, said king Arthur, for I will command you for to do as we all\nhave done. My most renowned lord, said Sir Launcelot, ye know well I\ndare not nor may not disobey your commandment, but and I might or\ndurst, wit you well I would not take upon me to touch that wounded\nknight, to that intent that I should pass all other knights; heaven\ndefend me from that shame. Ye take it wrong, said king Arthur, ye shall\nnot do it for no presumption, but for to bear us fellowship, insomuch\nye be a fellow of the Table Round, and wit you well, said king Arthur,\nand ye prevail not and heal him, I dare say there is no knight in this\nland may heal him, and therefore I pray you do as we have done. And\nthen all the kings and knights for the most part prayed Sir Launcelot\nto search him, and then the wounded knight Sir Urre set him up weakly,\nand prayed Sir Launcelot heartily, saying, Courteous knight, I require\nthee for God\u2019s sake heal my wounds, for me thinketh, ever sithen ye\ncame here my wounds grieve me not. Ah my fair lord, said Sir Launcelot,\nJesu would that I might help you, I shame me sore that I should be thus\nrebuked, for never was I able in worthiness to do so high a thing. Then\nSir Launcelot kneeled down by the wounded knight, saying, My lord\nArthur, I must do your commandment, the which is sore against my heart.\nAnd then he held up his hands, and looked into the east, saying\nsecretly unto himself, Thou blessed Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, I\nbeseech thee of thy mercy, that my simple worship and honesty be saved,\nand thou, blessed Trinity, thou mayest give power to heal this sick\nknight, by thy great virtue and grace of thee, but, good Lord, never of\nmyself. And then Sir Launcelot prayed Sir Urre to let him see his head;\nand then, devoutly kneeling, he ransacked the three wounds, that they\nbled a little, and forthwith all the wounds fair healed, and seemed as\nthey had been whole a seven year. And in likewise he searched his body\nof other three wounds, and they healed in likewise. And then the last\nof all he searched the which was in his hand, and, anon, it healed\nfair. Then king Arthur, and all the kings and knights, kneeled down,\nand gave thanks and lovings unto God, and to his blessed mother, and\never Sir Launcelot wept as he had been a child that had been beaten.\nThen king Arthur let array priests and clerks in the most devoutest\nmanner, to bring in Sir Urre within Carlisle, with singing and loving\nto God. And when this was done, the king let clothe him in the richest\nmanner that could be thought; and then were but few better made knights\nin all the court, for he was passingly well made and bigly: and Arthur\nasked Sir Urre how he felt himself. My good lord, he said, I felt\nmyself never so lusty. Will ye just, and do deeds of arms? said king\nArthur. Sir, said Sir Urre, and I had all that longed unto justs, I\nwould soon be ready.\n_How there was a party made of an hundred knights against an hundred\n knights, and of other matters._\nThen king Arthur made a party of hundred knights to be against an\nhundred knights. And so, upon the morn, they justed for a diamond; but\nthere justed none of the dangerous knights; and so, for to shorten this\ntale, Sir Urre and Sir Lavaine justed best that day, for there was none\nof them but he overthrew and pulled down thirty knights; and then, by\nthe assent of all the kings and lords, Sir Urre and Sir Lavaine were\nmade knights of the Table Round. And Sir Lavaine cast his love to dame\nFelelolie, Sir Urre\u2019s sister, and then they were wedded together with\ngreat joy, and king Arthur gave to every each of them a barony of\nlands. And this Sir Urre would never go from Sir Launcelot, but he, and\nSir Lavaine, awaited evermore upon him; and they were in all the court\naccounted for good knights, and full desirous in arms; and many noble\ndeeds they did, for they would have no rest, but ever sought\nadventures. Thus they lived in the court, with great nobleness and joy,\nlong time. But every night and day Sir Agravaine, Sir Gawaine\u2019s\nbrother, awaited queen Guenever and Sir Launcelot du Lake, to put them\nto a rebuke and shame. And so leave I here of this tale, and overskip\ngreat books of Sir Launcelot du Lake, what great adventures he did when\nhe was called Le Chevaler du Chariot. For, as the French book saith,\nbecause of despite that knights and ladies called him the knight that\nrode in the chariot, as he were judged to the gallows; therefore, in\ndespite of all them that named him so, he was carried in a chariot a\ntwelve month, for but little after that he had slain Sir Meliagrance in\nthe queen\u2019s quarrel, he never in a twelve month came on horseback. And,\nas the French book saith, he did that twelve month more than forty\nbattles. And because I have lost the very matter of Le Chevaler du\nChariot, I depart from the tale of Sir Launcelot, and here I go unto\nthe Morte of king Arthur, and that caused Sir Agravaine.\n And here after foloweth the moost pytous history of the morte of\n kynge Arthur, the whiche is the xx. book.\n_How Sir Agravaine and Sir Mordred were busy upon Sir Gawaine for to\n disclose the love between Sir Launcelot and queen Guenever._\nIn May, when every lusty heart flourisheth and burgeneth; for as the\nseason is lusty to behold and comfortable, so man and woman rejoice and\ngladden of summer coming with his fresh flowers: for winter, with his\nrough winds and blasts, causeth a lusty man and woman to cower and sit\nfast by the fire. So in this season, as in the month of May, it befell\na great anger and unhap that stinted not till the flower of chivalry of\nall the world was destroyed and slain: and all was long upon two\nunhappy knights, the which were named Sir Agravaine and Sir Mordred\nthat were brethren unto Sir Gawaine. For this Sir Agravaine and Sir\nMordred had ever a privy hate unto the queen dame Guenever, and to Sir\nLauncelot, and daily and nightly they ever watched upon Sir Launcelot.\nSo it mis-happed Sir Gawaine and all his brethren were in king Arthur\u2019s\nchamber, and then Sir Agravaine said thus openly, and not in no\ncounsel, that many knights might hear it, I marvel that we all be not\nashamed both to see and to know how Sir Launcelot goeth with the queen,\nand all we know it so, and it is shamefully suffered of us all, that we\nall should suffer so noble a king as king Arthur is so to be shamed.\nThen spake Sir Gawaine, and said, Brother, Sir Agravaine, I pray you,\nand charge you, move no such matters no more afore me; for wit ye well,\nsaid Sir Gawaine, I will not be of your counsel. Truly, said Sir\nGaheris and Sir Gareth, we will not be knowing, brother Agravaine, of\nyour deeds. Then will I, said Sir Mordred. I believe well that, said\nSir Gawaine, for ever, unto all unhappiness, brother Sir Mordred,\nthereto will ye grant, and I would that ye left all this, and made you\nnot so busy, for I know, said Sir Gawaine, what will fall of it. Fall\nof it what fall may, said Sir Agravaine, I will disclose it to the\nking. Not by my counsel, said Sir Gawaine, for and there rise war and\nwrake betwixt Sir Launcelot and us, wit you well, brother, there will\nmany kings and great lords hold with Sir Launcelot. Also, brother Sir\nAgravaine, said Sir Gawaine, ye must remember how ofttimes Sir\nLauncelot hath rescued the king and the queen, and the best of us all\nhad been full cold at the heart-root, had not Sir Launcelot been better\nthan we; and that hath he proved himself full oft. And as for my part,\nsaid Sir Gawaine, I will never be against Sir Launcelot, for one day\u2019s\ndeed, when he rescued me from king Carados of the dolorous tower, and\nslew him, and saved my life. Also, brother Sir Agravaine, and Sir\nMordred, in likewise Sir Launcelot rescued you both, and three-score\nand two, from Sir Turquin. Me thinketh, brother, such kind deeds and\nkindness should be remembered. Do as ye list, said Sir Agravaine, for I\nwill hide it no longer. With these words came to them king Arthur. Now,\nbrother, stint your noise, said Sir Gawaine. We will not, said Sir\nAgravaine and Sir Mordred. Will ye so? said Sir Gawaine, then God speed\nyou, for I will not hear your tales, nor be of your counsel. No more\nwill I, said Sir Gareth and Sir Gaheris, for we will never say evil by\nthat man: for because, said Sir Gareth, Sir Launcelot made me knight,\nby no manner ought I to say ill of him. And therewithal they three\ndeparted, making great dole. Alas, said Sir Gawaine and Sir Gareth, now\nis this realm wholly mischieved, and the noble fellowship of the Round\nTable shall be dispersed. So they departed.\n_How Sir Agravaine disclosed their love to king Arthur, and how king\n Arthur gave them licence to take him._\nAnd then Sir Arthur asked them what noise they made. My lord, said\nAgravaine, I shall tell you that I may keep no longer. Here is I and my\nbrother, Sir Mordred, brake unto my brother Sir Gawaine, Sir Gaheris,\nand to Sir Gareth, how this we know all, that Sir Launcelot holdeth\nyour queen, and hath done long, and we be your sister\u2019s sons, and we\nmay suffer it no longer; and all we wot that ye should be above Sir\nLauncelot, and ye are the king that made him knight, and, therefore, we\nwill prove it that he is a traitor to your person. If it be so, said\nSir Arthur, wit you well he is none other, but I would be loth to begin\nsuch a thing, but I might have proofs upon it; for Sir Launcelot is an\nhardy knight, and all ye know he is the best knight among us all, and,\nbut if he be taken with the deed, he will fight with him that bringeth\nup the noise, and I know no knight that is able to match him.\nTherefore, and it be sooth as ye say, I would he were taken with the\ndeed. For, as the French book saith, the king was full loth thereto,\nthat any noise should be upon Sir Launcelot and his queen; for the king\nhad a deeming, but he would not hear of it, for Sir Launcelot had done\nso much for him and for the queen so many times, that, wit ye well, the\nking loved him passingly well. My lord, said Sir Agravaine, ye shall\nride to-morrow on hunting, and doubt ye not, Sir Launcelot will not go\nwith you. Then when it draweth toward night, ye may send the queen word\nthat ye will lie out all that night, and so may ye send for your cooks;\nand then, upon pain of death, we shall take him with the queen, and\neither we shall bring him to you dead or quick. I will well, said the\nking, then I counsel you, said the king, take with you sure fellowship.\nSir, said Agravaine, my brother, Sir Mordred, and I will take with us\ntwelve knights of the Round Table. Beware, said king Arthur, for I warn\nyou ye shall find him wight. Let us deal, said Sir Agravaine and Sir\nMordred. So on the morn, king Arthur rode on hunting, and sent word to\nthe queen that he would be out all that night. Then Sir Agravaine and\nSir Mordred gat to them twelve knights, and did themselves in a\nchamber, in the castle of Carlisle, and these were their names: Sir\nColgrevance, Sir Mador de la Porte, Sir Gingaline, Sir Meliot de\nLogris, Sir Petipase of Winchelsea, Sir Galleron of Galway, Sir Melion\nof the mountain, Sir Astamore, Sir Gromore Somir Joure, Sir Curselaine,\nSir Florence, Sir Lovel. So these twelve knights were with Sir Mordred\nand Sir Agravaine. And all they were of Scotland, either of Sir\nGawaine\u2019s kin, either well willers to his brethren. So when the night\ncame, Sir Launcelot told Sir Bors how he would go that night, and speak\nwith the queen. Sir, said Sir Bors, ye shall not go this night, by my\ncounsel. Why? said Sir Launcelot. Sir, said Sir Bors, I dread me ever\nof Sir Agravaine, that waiteth you daily, to do you shame, and us all,\nand never gave my heart against no going that ever ye went to the\nqueen, so much as now, for I mistrust that the king is out this night\nfrom the queen, because, peradventure, he hath lain some watch for you\nand the queen, and therefore I dread me sore of treason. Have ye no\ndread, said Sir Launcelot, for I shall go, and come again, and make no\ntarrying. Sir, said Sir Bors, that me sore repenteth, for I dread me\nsore that your going out this night shall wrath us all. Fair nephew,\nsaid Sir Launcelot, I marvel me much why ye say thus, sithen the queen\nhath sent for me, and wit ye well that I will not be so much a coward,\nbut she shall understand I will see her good grace. God speed you well,\nsaid Sir Bors, and send you sound and safe again.\n_How Sir Launcelot was espied in the queen\u2019s chamber, and how Sir\n Agravaine and Sir Mordred came with twelve knights to slay him._\nSo Sir Launcelot departed, and took his sword under his arm, and so in\nhis mantle that noble knight put himself in great jeopardy, and so he\npassed till he came to the queen\u2019s chamber. And then, as the French\nbook saith, there came Sir Agravaine, and Sir Mordred, with twelve\nknights with them of the Round Table, and they said with crying voice,\nTraitor knight, Sir Launcelot du Lake, now art thou taken. And thus\nthey cried with a loud voice that all the court might hear it: and they\nall fourteen were armed at all points as they should fight in a battle.\nAlas, said queen Guenever, now are we mischieved both. Madam, said Sir\nLauncelot, is there here any armour within your chamber that I might\ncover my poor body withal, and if there be any, give it me, and I shall\nsoon stint their malice. Truly, said the queen, I have none armour,\nshield, sword, nor spear, wherefore I dread me sore our long love is\ncome to a mischievous end; for, I hear by their noise, there be many\nnoble knights, and well I wot they be surely armed, against them ye may\nmake no resistance; wherefore ye are likely to be slain, and then shall\nI be burnt. For, and ye might escape them, said the queen, I would not\ndoubt but that ye would rescue me in what danger that ever I stood in.\nAlas, said Sir Launcelot, in all my life was I never bested that I\nshould be thus shamefully slain for lack of mine armour. But ever in\none Sir Agravaine and Sir Mordred cried, Traitor knight, come out of\nthe queen\u2019s chamber, for wit thou well thou art so beset that thou\nshalt not escape. Oh mercy, said Sir Launcelot, this shameful cry and\nnoise I may not suffer, for better were death at once, than thus to\nendure this pain. Then he took the queen in his arms, and kissed her,\nand said, Most noble christian queen, I beseech you, as ye have ever\nbeen my special good lady, and I at all times your true poor knight\nunto my power, and as I never failed you in right nor in wrong, since\nthe first day that king Arthur made me knight, that ye will pray for my\nsoul if that I here be slain. For well I am well assured that Sir Bors\nmy nephew and all the remnant of my kin, with Sir Lavaine and Sir Urre,\nthat they will not fail you to rescue you from the fire, and therefore,\nmine own lady, recomfort yourself whatsoever come of me, that ye go\nwith Sir Bors my nephew, and Sir Urre, and they all will do you all the\npleasure that they can or may, that ye shall live like a queen upon my\nlands. Nay, Launcelot, said the queen, wit thou well I will never live\nafter thy days, but, and thou be slain, I will take my death as meekly\nfor Jesu Christ\u2019s sake, as ever did any Christian queen. Well, madam,\nsaid Launcelot, sith it is so that the day is come that our love must\ndepart, wit you well I shall sell my life as dear as I may, and a\nthousand fold, said Sir Launcelot, I am more heavier for you than for\nmyself. And now I had lever than to be lord of all Christendom, that I\nhad sure armour upon me, that men might speak of my deeds or ever I\nwere slain. Truly, said the queen, I would and it might please God that\nthey would take me and slay me, and suffer you to escape. That shall\nnever be, said Sir Launcelot. God defend me from such a shame, but Jesu\nbe thou my shield and mine armour.\n_How Sir Launcelot slew Sir Colgrevance, and armed him in his harness,\n and after slew Sir Agravaine and twelve of his fellows._\nAnd therewith Sir Launcelot wrapped his mantle about his arm well and\nsurely; and by then they had gotten a great form out of the hall, and\ntherewithal they rashed at the door. Fair lords, said Sir Launcelot,\nleave your noise and your rashing, and I shall set open this door, and\nthen may ye do with me what it liketh you. Come off then, said they\nall, and do it, for it availeth thee not to strive against us all, and\ntherefore let us into this chamber, and we shall save thy life until\nthou come to king Arthur. Then Launcelot unbarred the door, and with\nhis left hand he held it open a little so that but one man might come\nin at once. And so anon, there came striding a good knight, a much man\nand large, and his name was Colgrevance of Gore, and he with a sword\nstrake at Sir Launcelot mightily, and he put aside the stroke, and gave\nhim such a buffet upon the helmet that he fell groveling dead within\nthe chamber door, and then Sir Launcelot with great might drew that\ndead knight within the chamber door; and then Sir Launcelot with the\nhelp of the queen and her ladies was lightly armed in Sir Colgrevance\u2019s\narmour. And ever stood Sir Agravaine and Sir Mordred, crying, Traitor\nknight, come out of the queen\u2019s chamber. Leave your noise, said Sir\nLauncelot unto Sir Agravaine, for wit ye well, Sir Agravaine, ye shall\nnot prison me this night, and therefore and ye do by my counsel, go ye\nall from this chamber door, and make not such crying and such manner of\nslander as ye do, for I promise you by my knighthood, and ye will\ndepart and make no more noise, I shall as to-morn appear before you\nall, before the king, and then let it be seen which of you all, and\neither else ye all, will accuse me of treason, and there I shall answer\nyou as a knight should, that hither I came to the queen for no manner\nof mal-engine, and that will I prove and make it good upon you with\nmine hands. Fie on thee traitor, said Sir Agravaine and Sir Mordred, we\nwill have thee, maugre thy head, and slay thee if we list, for we let\nthee wit, we have the choice of king Arthur, to save thee or to slay\nthee. Ah sirs, said Sir Launcelot, is there none other grace with you?\nthen keep yourself. So then Sir Launcelot set all open the chamber\ndoor, and mightily and knightly he strode in amongst them, and anon at\nthe first buffet he slew Sir Agravaine, and twelve of his fellows\nwithin a little while after he laid them cold to the earth, for there\nwas none of the twelve that might stand Sir Launcelot one buffet. Also\nSir Launcelot wounded Sir Mordred, and he fled with all his might. And\nthen Sir Launcelot returned again unto the queen, and said, Madam, now\nwit you well all our true love is brought to an end, for now will king\nArthur ever be my foe, and therefore, madam, and it like you that I may\nhave you with me, I shall save you from all manner adventures\ndangerous. That is not best, said the queen, me seemeth now ye have\ndone so much harm, it will be best ye hold you still with this. And if\nye see that as to-morn they will put me unto the death, then may ye\nrescue me as ye think best. I will well, said Sir Launcelot, for have\nye no doubt while I am living I shall rescue you. And then he kissed\nher, and either gave other a ring, and so there he left the queen and\nwent until his lodging.\n_How Sir Launcelot came to Sir Bors and told him how he had sped, and\n in what adventure he had been, and how he escaped._\nWhen Sir Bors saw Sir Launcelot, he was never so glad of his home\ncoming as he was then. Mercy, said Sir Launcelot, why be ye all armed?\nWhat meaneth this? Sir, said Sir Bors, after that ye were departed from\nus, we all that be of your blood, and your well willers, were so\ntroubled, that some of us lept out of our beds naked, and some in their\ndreams caught naked swords in their hands, therefore, said Sir Bors, we\ndeem there is some great strife at hand; and then we all deemed that ye\nwere betrapped with some treason, and therefore we made us thus ready,\nwhat need that ever ye were in. My fair nephew, said Sir Launcelot unto\nSir Bors, now shall ye wit all, that this night I was more harder\nbested than ever I was in my life, and yet I escaped. And so he told\nthem all how, and in what manner, as ye have heard tofore. And\ntherefore my fellows, said Sir Launcelot, I pray you all that ye will\nbe of good heart in what need soever I stand, for now is war come to us\nall. Sir, said Sir Bors, all is welcome that God sendeth us, and we\nhave had much weal with you and much worship, and therefore we will\ntake the woe with you as we have taken the weal. And therefore they\nsaid all, there were many good knights, Look ye take no discomfort, for\nthere nis no band of knights under heaven but that we shall be able to\ngrieve them as much as they may us. And therefore discomfort not\nyourself by no manner, and ye shall gather together that we love, and\nthat loveth us, and what that ye will have done shall be done. And\ntherefore, Sir Launcelot, said they, we will take the woe with the\nweal. Gramercy, said Sir Launcelot, of your good comfort, for in my\ngreat distress, my fair nephew, ye comfort me greatly, and much I am\nbeholden unto you. But this, my fair nephew, I would that ye did in all\nhaste that ye may, or it be forth-days, that ye will look in their\nlodging that been lodged here nigh about the king, which will hold with\nme, and which will not, for now I would know which were my friends from\nmy foes. Sir, said Sir Bors, I shall do my pain, and, or it be seven of\nthe clock, I shall wit of such as ye have said before, who will hold\nwith you.\nThen Sir Bors called unto him Sir Lionel, Sir Ector de Maris, Sir\nBlamor de Ganis, Sir Bleoberis de Ganis, Sir Gahalantine, Sir\nGalihodin, Sir Galihud, Sir Menadeuke, with Sir Villiers the Valiant,\nSir Hebes le Renoumes, Sir Lavaine, Sir Urre of Hungary, Sir Nerouneus,\nSir Plenorius: these two knights Sir Launcelot made, and the one he wan\nupon a bridge, and therefore they would never be against him. And Sir\nHarry le Fise du Lake and Sir Selises of the dolorous tower, and Sir\nMelias de Lile, and Sir Bellangere le Beuse, which was Sir Alisaunder\u2019s\nle Orphelin\u2019s son, because his mother, dame Alis le Beale Pilgrim, and\nshe was kin unto Sir Launcelot, and he held with him. So there came Sir\nPalamides, and Sir Safere his brother, to hold with Sir Launcelot, and\nSir Clegis of Sadok, and Sir Dinas, Sir Clarius of Cleremont. So these\ntwo and twenty knights drew them together; and by then they were armed\non horseback, and promised Sir Launcelot to do what he would. Then\nthere fell to them, what of Northgalis and of Cornwall, for Sir\nLamorak\u2019s sake and for Sir Tristram\u2019s sake, to the number of a\nfourscore knights.\nMy lords, said Sir Launcelot, wit you well I have been, ever since I\ncame into this country, well willed unto my lord king Arthur, and unto\nmy lady queen Guenever, unto my power, and this night, because my lady\nthe queen sent for me to speak with her, I suppose it was made by\ntreason, howbeit I dare largely excuse her person, notwithstanding I\nwas there by a forecast nigh slain, but, as God provided me, I escaped\nall their malice and treason. And then that noble knight, Sir\nLauncelot, told them all how he was hard bested in the queen\u2019s chamber,\nand how and in what manner he escaped from them. And therefore, said\nSir Launcelot, wit you well, my fair lords, I am sure there nis but war\nunto me and mine. And for because I have slain this night these\nknights, I wot well as is Sir Agravaine Sir Gawaine\u2019s brother, and at\nthe least twelve of his fellows, for this cause now I am sure of mortal\nwar, for these knights were sent and ordained by king Arthur to betray\nme, and therefore the king will in this heat and malice judge the queen\nto the fire, and that may I not suffer, that she should be burnt for my\nsake. For, and I may be heard and suffered, and so taken, I will fight\nfor the queen, that she is a true lady unto her lord. But the king in\nhis heat I dread me will not take me as I ought to be taken.\n_Of the counsel and advice which was taken by Sir Launcelot and by his\n friends for to save the queen._\nMy lord Sir Launcelot, said Sir Bors, by mine advice ye shall take the\nwoe with the weal, and take it in patience, and thank God of it. And\nsithen it is fallen as it is, I counsel you keep yourself, for, and ye\nwill yourself, there is no fellowship of knights christened that shall\ndo you wrong. Also I will counsel you, my lord Sir Launcelot, that and\nmy lady queen Guenever be in distress, insomuch as she is in pain for\nyour sake, that ye knightly rescue her: and ye did other ways, all the\nworld will speak of you shame to the world\u2019s end, insomuch as ye were\ntaken with her, whether ye did right or wrong. It is now your part to\nhold with the queen, that she be not slain and put to a mischievous\ndeath, for, and she so die, the shame shall be yours. Jesu defend me\nfrom shame, said Sir Launcelot, and keep and save my lady the queen\nfrom villainy and shameful death, and that she never be destroyed in my\ndefault: wherefore, my fair lords, my kin and my friends, what will ye\ndo? Then they said all, We will do as ye will do. I put this to you,\nsaid Sir Launcelot, that if my lord Arthur by evil counsel will to-morn\nin his heat put my lady the queen to the fire, there to be burnt,\u2014now,\nI pray you, counsel me what is best to do? Then they said all at once\nwith one voice, Sir, us thinketh best, that ye knightly rescue the\nqueen; insomuch as she shall be burnt, it is for your sake, and it is\nto suppose, and ye might be handled, ye should have the same death, or\na more shamefuller death; and, sir, we say all, that ye have many times\nrescued her from death for other men\u2019s quarrels, us seemeth it is more\nyour worship that ye rescue the queen from this peril, insomuch she\nhath it for your sake.\nThen Sir Launcelot stood still, and said, My fair lords, wit you well,\nI would be loth to do that thing that should dishonour you or my blood,\nand wit you well, I would be loth that my lady the queen should die a\nshameful death, but and it be so that ye will counsel me to rescue her,\nI must do much harm or I rescue her, and peradventure I shall there\ndestroy some of my best friends, that should much repent me: and\nperadventure there be some, and they could well bring it about, or\ndisobey my lord king Arthur, they would soon come to me, the which I\nwere loth to hurt: and if so be that I rescue her, where shall I keep\nher? That shall be the least care of us all, said Sir Bors: how did the\nnoble knight Sir Tristram by your good will? Kept not he with him La\nBeale Isoud near three year in Joyous Gard, the which was done by your\nelders\u2019 device, and that same place is your own, and in likewise may ye\ndo, and ye list, and take the queen lightly away, if it so be the king\nwill judge her to be burnt, and in Joyous Gard ye may keep her long\nenough, until the heat of the king be past. And then shall ye bring\nagain the queen to the king with great worship, and then, peradventure,\nye shall have thank for her bringing home, and love and thank where\nother shall have maugre. That is hard to do, said Sir Launcelot, for by\nSir Tristram I may have a warning. For when by means of treaties Sir\nTristram brought again La Beale Isoud unto king Mark from Joyous Gard,\nlook what befell on the end, how shamefully that false traitor king\nMark slew him as he sat harping afore his lady La Beale Isoud, with a\ngrounden glaive he thrust him in behind to the heart. It grieveth me,\nsaid Sir Launcelot, to speak of his death, for all the world may not\nfind such a knight. All this is truth, said Sir Bors, but there is one\nthing shall courage you and us all: ye know well that king Arthur and\nking Mark were never like of conditions, for there was never yet man\nthat could prove king Arthur untrue of his promise. So, to make short\ntale, they were all consented that for better or for worse, if so were\nthat the queen were on that morn brought to the fire, shortly they all\nwould rescue her. And so by the advice of Sir Launcelot they put them\nall in an enbushment in a wood as nigh Carlisle as they might. And\nthere they abode still to wit what the king would do.\n_How Sir Mordred rode hastily to the king to tell him of the affray and\n death of Sir Agravaine and the other knights._\nNow turn we again unto Sir Mordred, that when he was escaped from the\nnoble knight Sir Launcelot, he anon gat his horse and mounted upon him,\nand rode unto king Arthur, sore wounded and smitten, and all for-bled.\nAnd there he told the king all how it was, and how they were all slain\nsave himself all only. Mercy, how may this be, said the king; took ye\nhim in the queen\u2019s chamber? Yea, truly, said Sir Mordred, there we\nfound him unarmed, and there he slew Colgrevance, and armed him in his\narmour. And all this he told the king, from the beginning to the\nending. Ah, mercy, said the king, he is a marvellous knight of prowess.\nAlas, me sore repenteth, said the king, that ever Sir Launcelot should\nbe against me. Now I am sure the noble fellowship of the Round Table is\nbroken for ever, for with him will many a noble knight hold: and now it\nis fallen so, said the king, that I may not with my worship but the\nqueen must suffer the death. So then there was made great ordinance in\nthis heat, that the queen must be judged to the death. And the law was\nsuch in those days, that whatsoever they were, of what estate or\ndegree, if they were found guilty of treason, there should be none\nother remedy but death, and either the men or the taking with the deed\nshould be causer of their hasty judgment. And right so was it ordained\nfor queen Guenever, because Sir Mordred was escaped sore wounded, and\nthe death of thirteen knights of the Round Table:\u2014these proofs and\nexperiences caused king Arthur to command the queen to the fire, there\nto be burnt. Then spake Sir Gawaine and said: My lord Arthur, I would\ncounsel you not to be over hasty, but that ye would put it in respite,\nthis judgment of my lady the queen, for many causes. One it is, though\nit were so that Sir Launcelot were found in the queen\u2019s chamber, yet it\nmight be that he came thither for none evil, for ye know, my lord, said\nSir Gawaine, that the queen is much beholden unto Sir Launcelot, more\nthan unto any other knight, for oft-times he hath saved her life, and\ndone battle for her when all the court refused the queen, and,\nperadventure, she sent for him for goodness and for none evil, to\nreward him for his good deeds that he had done to her in time past.\nAnd, peradventure, my lady the queen sent for him to that intent that\nSir Launcelot should come to her good grace privily and secretly,\nweening to her that it was best so to do, in eschewing and dreading of\nslander. For oft-times we do many things that we ween it be for the\nbest, and yet, peradventure, it turneth to the worst. For I dare say,\nsaid Sir Gawaine, that my lady your queen is to you both good and true.\nAnd as for Sir Launcelot, said Sir Gawaine, I dare say he will make it\ngood upon any knight living that will put upon himself villainy or\nshame, and in likewise he will make good for my lady dame Guenever.\nThat I believe well, said king Arthur, but I will not that way with Sir\nLauncelot, for he trusteth so much upon his hands and his might that he\ndoubteth no man, and therefore for my queen he shall never fight more,\nfor she shall have the law. And if I may get Sir Launcelot, wit ye well\nhe shall have a shameful death. Jesu defend, said Sir Gawaine, that I\nmay never see it. Why say ye so? said king Arthur, for sooth ye have no\ncause to love Sir Launcelot, for this night last past he slew your\nbrother Sir Agravaine, a full good knight, and also almost he had slain\nyour other brother Sir Mordred; and also there he slew thirteen noble\nknights; and also, Sir Gawaine, remember ye he slew two sons of yours,\nSir Florence and Sir Lovel. My lord, said Sir Gawaine, of all this I\nhave knowledge, of whose deaths I repent me sore, but insomuch I gave\nthem warning, and told my brethren and my sons aforehand, what would\nfall in the end, insomuch they would not do by my counsel I will not\nmeddle me thereof, nor revenge me nothing of their deaths, for I told\nthem it was no bote to strive with Sir Launcelot; howbeit I am sorry of\nthe death of my brethren and of my sons, for they are the causers of\ntheir own death. For oft-times I warned my brother Sir Agravaine, and I\ntold him the perils the which be now fallen.\n_How Sir Launcelot and his kinsmen rescued the queen from the fire, and\n how he slew many knights._\nThen said the noble king Arthur to Sir Gawaine, Dear nephew, I pray you\nmake you ready in your best armour, with your brethren Sir Gaheris and\nSir Gareth, to bring my queen to the fire, there to have her judgment,\nand receive the death. Nay, my most noble lord, said Sir Gawaine, that\nwill I never do, for, wit you well, I will never be in that place where\nso noble a queen as is my lady dame Guenever shall take a shameful end.\nFor wit you well, said Sir Gawaine, my heart will never serve me to see\nher die, and it shall never be said that even I was of your counsel of\nher death. Then, said the king to Sir Gawaine, suffer your brothers Sir\nGaheris and Sir Gareth to be there. My lord, said Sir Gawaine, wit you\nwell they will be loth to be there present, because of many adventures\nthe which be like there to fall, but they are young and full unable to\nsay you nay. Then spake Sir Gaheris and the good knight Sir Gareth unto\nSir Arthur, Sir, ye may well command us to be there, but wit you well\nit shall be sore against our will; but and we be there by your strait\ncommandment, ye shall plainly hold us there excused, we will be there\nin peaceable wise, and bear none harness of war upon us. In the name of\nGod, said the king, then make you ready, for she shall soon have her\njudgment anon. Alas, said Sir Gawaine, that ever I should endure to see\nthis woefull day. So Sir Gawaine turned him, and wept heartily, and so\nhe went into his chamber, and then the queen was led forth without\nCarlisle, and there she was despoiled into her smock. And so then her\nghostly father was brought to her, to be shriven of her misdeeds. Then\nwas there weeping, and wailing, and wringing of hands, of many lords\nand ladies. But there were but few in comparison that would bear any\narmour for to strength the death of the queen. Then was there one that\nSir Launcelot had sent unto that place for to espy what time the queen\nshould go unto her death. And anon, as he saw the queen despoiled into\nher smock, and so shriven, then he gave Sir Launcelot warning. Then was\nthere but spurring and plucking up of horses, and right so they came to\nthe fire, and who that stood against them, there they were slain, there\nmight none withstand Sir Launcelot, so all that bare arms and withstood\nthem, there were they slain\u2014full many a noble knight. For there was\nslain Sir Belias le Orgulous, Sir Segwarides, Sir Griflet, Sir\nBrandiles, Sir Aglovale, Sir Tor, Sir Gauter, Sir Gillimer, Sir\nReynold\u2019s three brethren, Sir Damas, Sir Priamus, Sir Kay the stranger,\nSir Driant, Sir Lambegus, Sir Herminde, Sir Pertilope, Sir Perimones,\ntwo brethren, that were called the green knight and the red knight. And\nso in this rashing and hurling as Sir Launcelot thrang here and there,\nit mishapped him to slay Gaheris and Sir Gareth, the noble knight, for\nthey were unarmed and unaware, for, as the French book saith, Sir\nLauncelot smote Sir Gareth and Sir Gaheris upon the brain pans, where\nthrough they were slain in the field, howbeit in very truth Sir\nLauncelot saw them not, and so were they found dead among the thickest\nof the press. Then when Sir Launcelot had thus done and slain, and put\nto flight all that would withstand him, then he rode straight unto dame\nGuenever, and made a kirtle and a gown to be cast upon her, and then he\nmade her to be set behind him, and prayed her to be of good cheer. Wit\nyou well the queen was glad that she was escaped from the death, and\nthen she thanked God and Sir Launcelot. And so he rode his way with the\nqueen, as the French book saith, unto Joyous Gard, and there he kept\nher as a noble knight should do, and many great lords and some kings\nsent Sir Launcelot many good knights, and many noble knights drew unto\nSir Launcelot. When this was known openly, that king Arthur and Sir\nLauncelot were at debate, and many were full heavy of their debate.\n_Of the sorrow and lamentation of king Arthur for the death of his\n nephews and other good knights, and also for the queen his wife._\nSo turn we again unto king Arthur, that when it was told him how, and\nin what manner of wise the queen was taken away from the fire, and when\nhe heard of the death of his noble knights, and in especial for Sir\nGaheris\u2019 and Sir Gareth\u2019s death, then the king swooned for pure sorrow.\nAnd when he awoke of his swoon, then he said, Alas that ever I bare\ncrown upon my head, for now have I lost the fairest fellowship of noble\nknights that ever held Christian king together. Alas, my good knights\nbe slain away from me, now within these two days I have lost forty\nknights, and also the noble fellowship of Sir Launcelot and his blood,\nfor now I may never hold them together no more with my worship. Alas,\nthat ever this war began. Now, fair fellows, said the king, I charge\nyou that no man tell Sir Gawaine of the death of his two brethren, for\nI am sure, said the king, when Sir Gawaine heareth tell that Sir Gareth\nis dead, he will go nigh out of his mind. Mercy, said the king, why\nslew he Sir Gareth and Sir Gaheris! for I dare say as for Sir Gareth he\nloved Sir Launcelot above all men earthly. That is truth, said some\nknights, but they were slain in the hurtling, as Sir Launcelot thrang\nin the thick of the press, and as they were unarmed he smote them, and\nwist not whom that he smote, and so unhappily they were slain. The\ndeath of them, said Arthur, will cause the greatest mortal war that\never was. I am sure, wist Sir Gawaine that Sir Gareth were slain, I\nshould never have rest of him till I had destroyed Sir Launcelot\u2019s kin\nand himself both, or else he to destroy me; and therefore, said the\nking, wit you well my heart was never so heavy as it is now, and much\nmore I am sorrier for my good knights\u2019 loss, than for the loss of my\nfair queen, for queens I might have enow, but such a fellowship of good\nknights shall never be together in no company; and now I dare say, said\nking Arthur, that there was never Christian king held such a fellowship\ntogether, and alas that ever Sir Launcelot and I should be at debate.\nAh, Agravaine, Agravaine, said the king, Jesu forgive it thy soul, for\nthine evil will, that thou and thy brother Sir Mordred haddest unto Sir\nLauncelot, hath caused all this sorrow. And ever among these complaints\nthe king wept and swooned.\nThen there came one unto Sir Gawaine, and told him how the queen was\nled away with Sir Launcelot, and nigh a twentyfour knights slain. O\nJesu defend my brethren, said Sir Gawaine, for full well wist I that\nSir Launcelot would rescue her, or else he would die in that field; and\nto say the truth he had not been a man of worship, had he not rescued\nthe queen that day, in so much she should have been burnt for his sake:\nand as in that, said Sir Gawaine, he hath done but knightly, and as I\nwould have done myself, and I had stood in like case. But where are my\nbrethren? said Sir Gawaine, I marvel I hear not of them. Truly, said\nthat man, Sir Gareth and Sir Gaheris be slain. Jesu defend, said Sir\nGawaine, for all the world I would not that they were slain, and in\nespecial my good brother Sir Gareth. Sir, said the man, he is slain,\nand that is great pity. Who slew him? said Sir Gawaine. Sir, said the\nman, Launcelot slew them both. That may I not believe, said Sir\nGawaine, that he slew my brother Sir Gareth, for I dare say my brother\nGareth loved him better than me and all his brethren, and the king\nboth. Also I dare say, and Sir Launcelot had desired my brother Sir\nGareth with him, he would have been with him against the king and us\nall, and therefore I may never believe that Sir Launcelot slew my\nbrother. Sir, said this man, it is noised that he slew him.\n_How king Arthur at the request of Sir Gawaine concluded to make war\n against Sir Launcelot, and laid siege to his castle called Joyous\n Gard._\nAlas, said Sir Gawaine, now is my joy gone. And then he fell down and\nswooned, and long he lay there as he had been dead. And then when he\narose of his swoon, he cried out sorrowfully and said, Alas! And right\nso Sir Gawaine ran to the king crying and weeping, O king Arthur, mine\nuncle, my good brother Sir Gareth is slain, and so is my brother Sir\nGaheris, the which were two noble knights. Then the king wept and he\nboth, and so they fell on swooning. And when they were revived, then\nspake Sir Gawaine, Sir, I will go see my brother Sir Gareth. Ye may not\nsee him, said the king, for I caused him to be interred, and Sir\nGaheris both; for I well understood that ye would make over much\nsorrow, and the sight of Sir Gareth should have caused your double\nsorrow. Alas, my lord, said Sir Gawaine, how slew he my brother Sir\nGareth? mine own good lord, I pray you tell me. Truly, said the king, I\nshall tell you as it is told me, Sir Launcelot slew him and Sir Gaheris\nboth. Alas, said Sir Gawaine, they bare none arms against him, neither\nof them both. I wot not how it was, said the king, but, as it is said,\nSir Launcelot slew them both in the thickest of the press, and knew\nthem not; and therefore let us shape a remedy for to revenge their\ndeaths. My king, my lord, and mine uncle, said Sir Gawaine, wit you\nwell, now I shall make you a promise that I shall hold by my\nknighthood, that from this day I shall never fail Sir Launcelot, until\nthe one of us have slain the other: and therefore I require you, my\nlord and king, dress you to the war, for wit you well I will be\nrevenged upon Sir Launcelot, and therefore, as ye will have my service\nand my love, now haste you thereto, and assay your friends. For I\npromise unto God, said Sir Gawaine, for the death of my brother Sir\nGareth I shall seek Sir Launcelot throughout seven kings\u2019 realms but I\nshall slay him, or else he shall slay me. Ye shall not need to seek him\nso far, said the king, for, as I hear say, Sir Launcelot will abide me\nand you in the Joyous Gard, and much people draweth unto him as I hear\nsay. That may I believe, said Sir Gawaine, but my lord, he said, assay\nyour friends, and I will assay mine. It shall be done, said the king,\nand, as I suppose, I shall be big enough to draw him out of the biggest\ntower of his castle. So then the king sent letters and writs throughout\nall England, both in the length and the breadth, for to assummon all\nhis knights. And so unto Arthur drew many knights, dukes, and earls, so\nthat he had a great host. And when they were assembled, the king\ninformed them all how Sir Launcelot had bereft him his queen. Then the\nking and all his host made them ready to lay siege about Sir Launcelot,\nwhere he lay within Joyous Gard. Thereof heard Sir Launcelot, and\npurveyed him of many good knights, for with him held many knights, and\nsome for his own sake, and some for the queen\u2019s sake. Thus they were on\nboth parties well furnished and garnished of all manner of things that\nlonged to the war. But king Arthur\u2019s host was so big that Sir Launcelot\nwould not abide him in the field, for he was full loth to do battle\nagainst the king; but Sir Launcelot drew him to his strong castle with\nall manner of victual, and as many noble men as he might suffice within\nthe town and the castle. Then came king Arthur with Sir Gawaine, with\nan huge host, and laid a siege all about Joyous Gard, both at the town\nand at the castle, and there they made strong war on both parties. But\nin no wise Sir Launcelot would ride out nor go out of his castle of\nlong time, neither he would none of his good knights to issue out,\nneither none of the town nor of the castle, until fifteen weeks were\npast.\n_Of the communication between king Arthur and Sir Launcelot, and how\n king Arthur reproved him._\nThen it befell upon a day in harvest time, Sir Launcelot looked over\nthe walls, and spake on high unto king Arthur and Sir Gawaine, My lords\nboth, wit ye well all is in vain that ye make at this siege, for here\nwin ye no worship, but maugre and dishonour, for and it list me to come\nmyself out, and my good knights, I should full soon make an end of this\nwar. Come forth, said Arthur unto Launcelot, and thou darest, and I\npromise thee I shall meet thee in midst of the field. God defend me,\nsaid Sir Launcelot, that ever I should encounter with the most noble\nking that made me knight. Fie upon thy fair language, said the king,\nfor wit you well, and trust it, I am thy mortal foe, and ever will to\nmy death day, for thou hast slain my good knights and full noble men of\nmy blood, that I shall never recover again: also thou hast dishonoured\nmy queen, and holden her many winters, and sithen like a traitor taken\nher from me by force. My most noble lord and king, said Sir Launcelot,\nye may say what ye will, for ye wot well with yourself I will not\nstrive, but there as ye say I have slain your good knights, I wot well\nthat I have done so, and that me sore repenteth, but I was enforced to\ndo battle with them, in saving of my life, or else I must have suffered\nthem to have slain me. And as for my lady queen Guenever, except your\nperson of your highness, and my lord Sir Gawaine, there is no knight\nunder heaven that dare make it good upon me, that ever I was traitor\nunto your person. And where it pleaseth you to say that I have holden\nmy lady your queen years and winters, unto that I shall make a large\nanswer, and prove it upon any knight that beareth the life, except your\nperson and Sir Gawaine, that my lady queen Guenever is a true lady unto\nyour person, as any is living unto her lord, and that will I make good\nwith my hands; howbeit, it hath liked her good grace to have me in\ncharity, and to cherish me more than any other knight, and unto my\npower I again have deserved her love, for oft-times, my lord, ye have\nconsented that she should be burnt and destroyed in your heat, and then\nit fortuned me to do battle for her, and or I departed from her\nadversary they confessed their untruth, and she full worshipfully\nexcused. And at such times, my lord Arthur, said Sir Launcelot, ye\nloved me, and thanked me when I saved your queen from the fire, and\nthen ye promised me for ever to be my good lord, and now me thinketh ye\nreward me full ill for my good service; and, my good lord, me seemeth I\nhad lost a great part of my worship in my knighthood, and I had\nsuffered my lady your queen to have been burnt, and insomuch she should\nhave been burnt for my sake. For sithen I have done battles for your\nqueen in other quarrels than in mine own, me seemeth now I had more\nright to do battle for her in right quarrel, and therefore my good and\ngracious lord, said Sir Launcelot, take your queen unto your good\ngrace, for she is both fair, true, and good. Fie on thee, false\nrecreant knight, said Sir Gawaine, I let thee wit my lord mine uncle\nking Arthur shall have his queen and thee, maugre thy visage, and slay\nyou both whether it please him. It may well be, said Sir Launcelot, but\nwit ye well, my lord Sir Gawaine, and me list to come out of this\ncastle, ye should win me and the queen more harder than ever ye wan a\nstrong battle. Fie on thy proud words, said Sir Gawaine; as for my lady\nthe queen, I will never say of her shame, but thou false and recreant\nknight, said Sir Gawaine, what cause hadst thou to slay my good brother\nSir Gareth, that loved thee more than all my kin? Alas, thou madest him\nknight with thine own hands; why slewest thou him that loved thee so\nwell? For to excuse me, said Sir Launcelot, it helpeth me not, but by\nthe faith that I owe to the high order of knighthood, I should with as\ngood will have slain my nephew Sir Bors de Ganis at that time: but\nalas, that ever I was so unhappy, said Launcelot, that I had not seen\nSir Gareth and Sir Gaheris. Thou liest, recreant knight, said Sir\nGawaine, thou slewest him in despite of me: and therefore wit thou well\nI shall make war to thee, and all the while that I may live. That me\nrepenteth, said Sir Launcelot, for well I understand it helpeth me not\nto seek none accordment, while ye Sir Gawaine are so mischievously set.\nAnd if ye were not, I would not doubt to have the good grace of my lord\nArthur. I believe it well, false recreant knight, said Sir Gawaine, for\nthou hast many long days overled me, and us all, and destroyed many of\nour good knights. Ye say as it pleaseth you, said Sir Launcelot, and\nyet may it never be said on me and openly proved, that ever I before\ncast of treason, slew no good knight, as, my lord Sir Gawaine, ye have\ndone. And so did I never, but in my defence, that I was driven thereto,\nin saving of my life. Ah, false knight, said Sir Gawaine, that thou\nmeanest by Sir Lamorak: wit thou well I slew him. Ye slew him not\nyourself, said Sir Launcelot, it had been over much on hand for you to\nhave slain him, for he was one of the best knights christened of his\nage, and it was great pity of his death.\n_How the cousins and kinsmen of Sir Launcelot excited him to go out to\n battle, and how they made them ready._\nWell, well, said Sir Gawaine to Sir Launcelot, sithen thou upbraidest\nme of Sir Lamorak, wit thou well I shall never leave thee till I have\nthee at such avail that thou shalt not escape my hands. I trust you\nwell enough, said Sir Launcelot, and ye may get me I shall get but\nlittle mercy. But, as the French book saith, the noble king Arthur\nwould have taken his queen again, and have been accorded with Sir\nLauncelot, but Sir Gawaine would not suffer him by no manner of mean.\nAnd then Sir Gawaine made many men to blow upon Sir Launcelot, and all\nat once they called him False recreant knight! Then when Sir Bors de\nGanis, Sir Ector de Maris, and Sir Lionel heard this outcry, they\ncalled to them Sir Palamides, Sir Safere\u2019s brother, and Sir Lavaine,\nwith many more of their blood, and all they went unto Sir Launcelot,\nand said thus, My lord Sir Launcelot, wit ye well we have great scorn\nof the great rebukes that we heard Gawaine say to you; wherefore we\npray you and charge you, as ye will have our service, keep us no longer\nwithin these walls, for wit you well, plainly, we will ride into the\nfield, and do battle with them. For ye fare as a man that were afeard,\nand for all your fair speech it will not avail you. For wit you well,\nSir Gawaine will not suffer you to be accorded with king Arthur: and\ntherefore fight for your life, and your right, and ye dare. Alas, said\nSir Launcelot, for to ride out of this castle and to do battle, I am\nfull loth. Then Sir Launcelot spake on high unto Sir Arthur and Sir\nGawaine, My lords, I require you and beseech you, sithen that I am thus\nrequired and conjured to ride into the field, that neither you my lord\nking Arthur, nor you Sir Gawaine, come not into the field. What shall\nwe do then? said Sir Gawaine, is this the king\u2019s quarrel with thee to\nfight? and it is my quarrel to fight with thee Sir Launcelot, because\nof the death of my brother Sir Gareth. Then must I needs unto battle,\nsaid Sir Launcelot; now wit you well, my lord Arthur, and Sir Gawaine,\nye will repent it whensoever I do battle with you. And so then they\ndeparted either from other, and then either party made them ready on\nthe morn for to do battle, and great purveyance was made on both sides.\nAnd Sir Gawaine let purvey many knights for to wait upon Sir Launcelot\nfor to overset him, and to slay him. And on the morn at undorne Sir\nArthur was ready in the field with three great hosts, and then Sir\nLauncelot\u2019s fellowship came out at three gates, in a full good array.\nAnd Sir Lionel came in the foremost battle, and Sir Launcelot came in\nthe middle, and Sir Bors came out at the third gate. Thus they came in\norder and rule as full noble knights. And always Sir Launcelot charged\nall his knights in any wise to save king Arthur and Sir Gawaine.\n_How Sir Gawaine justed and smote down Sir Lionel, and how Sir\n Launcelot horsed king Arthur._\nThen came forth Sir Gawaine from the king\u2019s host, and he came before\nand proffered to just, and Sir Lionel was a fierce knight, and lightly\nhe encountered with Sir Gawaine, and there Sir Gawaine smote Sir Lionel\nthroughout the body, that he dashed to the earth like as he had been\ndead. And then Sir Ector de Maris and other more bare him into the\ncastle. Then began a great stoure, and much people was slain, and ever\nSir Launcelot did what he might to save the people on king Arthur\u2019s\nparty. For Sir Palamides, and Sir Bors, and Sir Safere overthrew many\nknights, for they were deadly knights, and Sir Blamor de Ganis, and Sir\nBleoberis de Ganis, with Sir Bellangere le Beuse, these six knights did\nmuch harm. And ever king Arthur was nigh about Sir Launcelot to have\nslain him, and Sir Launcelot suffered him, and would not strike again.\nSo Sir Bors encountered with king Arthur, and there with a spear Sir\nBors smote him down; and so he alight and drew his sword, and said to\nSir Launcelot, Shall I make an end of this war? and that he meant to\nhave slain king Arthur. Not so hardy, said Sir Launcelot, upon pain of\nthy head, that thou touch him no more: for I will never see that most\nnoble king, that made me knight, neither slain ne shamed. And\ntherewithal Sir Launcelot alight off his horse, and took up the king,\nand horsed him again, and said thus, My lord Arthur, for God\u2019s love\nstint this strife, for ye get here no worship and I would do mine\nutterance, but always I forbear you, and ye, nor none of yours,\nforbeareth me: my lord remember what I have done in many places, and\nnow I am evil rewarded.\nThen when king Arthur was on horseback, he looked upon Sir Launcelot,\nand then the tears brast out of his eyes, thinking on the great\ncourtesy that was in Sir Launcelot, more than in any other man. And\ntherewith the king rode his way, and might no longer behold him, and\nsaid, Alas, that ever this war began! And then either parties of the\nbattles withdrew them to repose them, and buried the dead, and to the\nwounded men they laid soft salves, and thus they endured that night\ntill on the morn, and on the morn by undorne they made them ready to do\nbattle. And then Sir Bors led the forward. So upon the morn there came\nSir Gawaine as brim as any boar, with a great spear in his hand, and\nwhen Sir Bors saw him, he thought to revenge his brother Sir Lionel of\nthe despite that Sir Gawaine did him the other day. And so they that\nknew either other feutered their spears, and with all their mights of\ntheir horses and themselves they met together so felonously that either\nbare other through, and so they fell both to the earth; and then the\nbattles joined, and there was much slaughter on both parties. Then Sir\nLauncelot rescued Sir Bors, and sent him into the castle. But neither\nSir Gawaine nor Sir Bors died not of their wounds; for they were all\nholpen. Then Sir Lavaine and Sir Urre prayed Sir Launcelot to do his\npain, and fight as they had done:\u2014For we see ye forbear and spare, and\nthat doth much harm, therefore we pray you spare not your enemies no\nmore than they do you. Alas, said Sir Launcelot, I have no heart to\nfight against my lord Arthur, for ever me seemeth I do not as I ought\nto do. My lord, said Sir Palamides, though ye spare them all this day\nthey will never give you thank; and if they may get you at avail ye are\nbut dead. So then Sir Launcelot understood that they said him truth,\nand then he strained himself more than he did aforehand, and because\nhis nephew Sir Bors was sore wounded. And then within a little while,\nby even-song time, Sir Launcelot and his party better stood, for their\nhorses went in blood past the fetlocks, there was so much people slain.\nAnd then, for pity, Sir Launcelot withheld his knights, and suffered\nking Arthur\u2019s party for to withdraw them on side. And then Sir\nLauncelot\u2019s party withdrew them into his castle, and either party\nburied the dead bodies and put salve unto the wounded men. So when Sir\nGawaine was hurt, they on king Arthur\u2019s party were not so orgulous as\nthey were toforehand to do battle. Of this war was noised through all\nChristendom, and at the last it was noised afore the Pope; and he\nconsidering the great goodness of king Arthur and of Sir Launcelot,\nthat was called the most noblest knights of the world, wherefore the\nPope called unto him a noble clerk, that at that time was there\npresent,\u2014the French book saith it was the bishop of Rochester\u2014and the\nPope gave him bulls under lead unto king Arthur of England, charging\nhim upon pain of interdicting of all England, that he take his queen\ndame Guenever unto him again, and accord with Sir Launcelot.\n_How the pope sent down his bulls to make peace, and how Sir Launcelot\n brought the queen to king Arthur._\nSo when this bishop was come to Carlisle he shewed the king these\nbulls. And when the king understood these bulls, he nist what to do:\nfull fain he would have been accorded with Sir Launcelot, but Sir\nGawaine would not suffer him; but as for to have the queen, thereto he\nagreed. But in no wise Sir Gawaine would not suffer the king to accord\nwith Sir Launcelot, but as for the queen he consented. And then the\nbishop had of the king his great seal, and his assurance, as he was a\ntrue anointed king, that Sir Launcelot should come safe and go safe,\nand that the queen should not be spoken unto, of the king, nor of none\nother, for no thing done afore time past. And of all these appointments\nthe bishop brought with him sure assurance and writing, to shew Sir\nLauncelot. So when the bishop was come to Joyous Gard, there he shewed\nSir Launcelot how the Pope had written to Arthur and unto him, and\nthere he told him the perils if he withheld the queen from the king. It\nwas never in my thought, said Launcelot, to withhold the queen from my\nlord Arthur; but in so much she should have been dead for my sake, me\nseemeth it was my part to save her life, and put her from that danger\ntill better recover might come. And now I thank God, said Sir\nLauncelot, that the Pope hath made her peace; for God knoweth, said Sir\nLauncelot, I will be a thousand fold more gladder to bring her again\nthan ever I was of her taking away,\u2014with this, I may be sure to come\nsafe and go safe, and that the queen shall have her liberty as she had\nbefore, and never for no thing that hath been surmised afore this time,\nshe never from this day stand in no peril; for else, said Sir\nLauncelot, I dare adventure me to keep her from an harder shower than\never I kept her. It shall not need you, said the bishop, to dread so\nmuch: for wit you well the Pope must be obeyed; and it were not the\nPope\u2019s worship nor my poor honesty to wit you distressed, neither the\nqueen, neither in peril nor shamed. And then he shewed Sir Launcelot\nall his writing, both from the Pope and from king Arthur. This is sure\nenough, said Sir Launcelot, for full well I dare trust my lord\u2019s own\nwriting and his seal, for he was never shamed of his promise.\nTherefore, said Sir Launcelot unto the bishop, ye shall ride unto the\nking afore, and recommand me unto his good grace, and let him have\nknowledging that this same day eight days, by the grace of God, I\nmyself shall bring my lady queen Guenever unto him. And then say ye\nunto my most redoubted king, that I will say largely for the queen,\nthat I shall none except for dread, nor fear, but the king himself, and\nmy lord Sir Gawaine, and that is more for the king\u2019s love than for\nhimself. So the bishop departed, and came to the king at Carlisle, and\ntold him all how Sir Launcelot answered him: and then the tears brast\nout of the king\u2019s eyes. Then Sir Launcelot purveyed him an hundred\nknights, and all were clothed in green velvet, and their horses trapped\nto their heels, and every knight held a branch of olive in his hand in\ntokening of peace, and the queen had four and twenty gentlewomen\nfollowing her in the same wise, and Sir Launcelot had twelve coursers\nfollowing him, and on every courser sat a young gentleman, and all they\nwere arrayed in green velvet, with sarpis of gold about their quarters,\nand the horse trapped in the same wise down to the heels with many\nouches, set with stones and pearls in gold, to the number of a\nthousand; and she and Sir Launcelot were clothed in white cloth of gold\ntissue, and right so as ye have heard, as the French book maketh\nmention, he rode with the queen from Joyous Gard to Carlisle, and so\nSir Launcelot rode throughout Carlisle, and so in the castle, that all\nmen might behold and wit you well there was many a weeping eye. And\nthen Sir Launcelot himself alight, and avoided his horse, and took the\nqueen, and so led her where king Arthur was in his seat, and Sir\nGawaine sat afore him, and many other great lords. So when Sir\nLauncelot saw the king and Sir Gawaine, then he led the queen by the\narm, and then he kneeled down, and the queen both. Wit you well, then\nwas there many bold knights there with king Arthur that wept as\ntenderly as though they had seen all their kin afore them. So the king\nsat still, and said no word. And when Sir Launcelot saw his\ncountenance, he arose and pulled up the queen with him, and thus he\nspake full knightly:\u2014\n_Of the deliverance of the queen to the king by Sir Launcelot, and what\n language Sir Gawaine had to Sir Launcelot._\nMy most redoubted king, ye shall understand, by the Pope\u2019s commandment,\nand yours, I have brought to you my lady the queen, as right requireth;\nand if there be any knight, of whatsoever degree that he be, except\nyour person, that will say or dare say but that she is true to you, I\nhere myself, Sir Launcelot du Lake, will make it good upon his body\nthat she is a true lady unto you: but liars ye have listened, and that\nhas caused debate betwixt you and me. For time hath been, my lord\nArthur, that ye have been greatly pleased with me, when I did battle\nfor my lady your queen; and full well ye know my most noble king, that\nshe hath been put to great wrong or this time, and sithen it pleased\nyou at many times that I should fight for her, me seemeth, my good\nlord, I had more cause to rescue her from the fire, insomuch she should\nhave been burnt for my sake. For they that told you those tales were\nliars, and so it fell upon them. For, by likelihood, had not the might\nof God been with me, I might never have endured fourteen knights, and\nthey armed and afore purposed, and I unarmed and not purposed; for I\nwas sent for unto my lady your queen, I wot not for what cause, but I\nwas not so soon within the chamber door, but anon Sir Agravaine and Sir\nMordred called me traitor and recreant knight. They called thee right,\nsaid Sir Gawaine. My lord Sir Gawaine, said Sir Launcelot, in their\nquarrel they proved themselves not in the right. Well, well, Sir\nLauncelot, said king Arthur, I have given thee no cause to do to me as\nthou hast done, for I have worshipped thee and thine more than any of\nall my knights. My good lord, said Sir Launcelot, so ye be not\ndispleased, ye shall understand I and mine have done you oft better\nservice than any other knights have done in many divers places; and\nwhere ye have been full hard bested divers times, I have myself rescued\nyou from many dangers, and ever unto my power I was glad to please you,\nand my lord Sir Gawaine both, in justs and tournaments, and in battles\nset, both on horseback and on foot, I have often rescued you, and my\nlord Sir Gawaine, and many more of your knights in many divers places.\nFor now I will make avaunt, said Sir Launcelot, I will that ye all wit\nthat yet I found never no manner of knight, but that I was over-hard\nfor him, and I had done my utterance, thanked be God; howbeit I have\nbeen matched with good knights, as Sir Tristram and Sir Lamorak, but\never I had a favour unto them, and a deeming what they were; and I take\nGod to record, said Sir Launcelot, I never was wroth nor greatly heavy\nwith no good knight, and I saw him busy about to win worship: and full\nglad I was ever when I found any knight that might endure me on\nhorseback and on foot. Howbeit, Sir Carados of the dolorous tower was a\nfull noble knight, and a passing strong man, and that wot ye, my lord\nSir Gawaine; for he might well be called a noble knight, when he by\nfine force pulled you out of your saddle, and bound you overthwart\nafore him to his saddle bow; and there, my lord Sir Gawaine, I rescued\nyou, and slew him afore your sight. Also I found his brother, Sir\nTurquin, in like wise leading Sir Gaheris your brother bounden afore\nhim, and there I rescued your brother, and slew that Sir Turquin, and\ndelivered threescore and four of my lord Arthur\u2019s knights out of his\nprison. And now I dare say, said Sir Launcelot, I met never with so\nstrong knights, nor so well fighting, as was Sir Carados and Sir\nTurquin, for I fought with them to the uttermost; and therefore, said\nSir Launcelot unto Sir Gawaine, me seemeth ye ought of right for to\nremember this: for and I might have your good will, I would trust to\nGod to have my lord Arthur\u2019s good grace.\n_Of the communication between Sir Gawaine and Sir Launcelot, with much\n other language._\nThe king may do as he will, said Sir Gawaine, but wit thou well, Sir\nLauncelot, thou and I shall never be accorded while we live, for thou\nhast slain three of my brethren, and twain of them ye slew traitorly\nand piteously, for they bare none harness against thee, nor none would\nbear. God would they had been armed, said Sir Launcelot, for then had\nthey been on live. And wit ye well, Sir Gawaine, as for Sir Gareth, I\nlove none of my kinsmen so much as I did him, and ever while I live,\nsaid Sir Launcelot, I will bewail Sir Gareth\u2019s death, not all only for\nthe great fear that I have of you, but many causes causen me to be\nsorrowful. One is, for I made him knight; another is, I wot well he\nloved me above all other knights; and the third is, he was passing\nnoble, true, courteous, and gentle, and well conditioned; the fourth\nis, I wist well, anon as I heard that Sir Gareth was dead, I should\nnever after have your love, but everlasting war betwixt us; and also I\nwist well that ye would cause my noble lord Arthur for ever to be my\nmortal foe, and as Jesu be my help, said Sir Launcelot, I slew never\nSir Gareth nor Sir Gaheris by my will, but alas, that ever they were\nunarmed that unhappy day. But thus much I shall offer me, said Sir\nLauncelot, if it may please the king\u2019s good grace, and you, my lord Sir\nGawaine: I shall first begin at Sandwich, and there I shall go in my\nshirt, barefoot, and at every ten miles end I will found, and cause to\nmake an house of religion, of what order that ye will assign me, with\nan whole convent to sing and read day and night in especial for Sir\nGareth\u2019s sake and Sir Gaheris. And this shall I perform from Sandwich\nunto Carlisle; and every house shall have sufficient livelihood, and\nthis shall I perform while I have any livelihood in Christendom, and\nthere is none of all these religious places, but they shall be\nperformed, furnished and garnished in all things as an holy place ought\nto be, I promise you faithfully. And this, Sir Gawaine, me thinketh\nwere more fairer, holier, and more better to their souls, than ye my\nmost noble king, and you, Sir Gawaine, to war upon me, for thereby\nshall ye get none avail. Then all knights and ladies that were there\nwept as they were mad, and the tears fell on king Arthur\u2019s cheeks. Sir\nLauncelot, said Sir Gawaine, I have right well heard thy speech, and\nthy great proffers, but wit thou well, let the king do as it pleaseth\nhim, I will never forgive my brothers\u2019 death, and in especial the death\nof my brother Sir Gareth: and if mine uncle, king Arthur, will accord\nwith thee, he shall lose my service: for wit thou well, thou art both\nfalse to the king and to me. Sir, said Sir Launcelot, he beareth not\nthe life that may make that good, and if that ye, Sir Gawaine, will\ncharge me with so high a thing, ye must pardon me, for then needs must\nI answer you. Nay, said Sir Gawaine, we are past that at this time, and\nthat caused the Pope, for he hath charged mine uncle the king, that he\nshall take his queen again, and to accord with thee, Sir Launcelot, as\nfor this season, and therefore thou shalt go safe, as thou camest. But\nin this land thou shalt not abide past fifteen days, such summons I\ngive you;\u2014so the king and we were consented and accorded, or thou\ncamest hither; and else, said Sir Gawaine, wit thou well, that thou\nshouldest not have come here, but if it were maugre thy head. And if it\nwere not for the Pope\u2019s commandment, said Sir Gawaine, I should do\nbattle with mine own body against thy body, and prove it upon thee that\nthou hast been both false unto mine uncle king Arthur, and to me both,\nand that shall I prove upon thy body when thou art departed from hence,\nwheresoever I find thee.\n_How Sir Launcelot departed from the king and from Joyous Gard over\n seaward, and what knights went with him._\nThen Sir Launcelot sighed, and therewith the tears fell on his cheeks,\nand then he said thus: Alas, most noble christian realm, whom I have\nloved above all other realms, and in thee have I gotten a great part of\nmy worship, and now I shall depart in this wise. Truly me repenteth\nthat ever I came in this realm that should be thus shamefully banished,\nundeserved and causeless. But fortune is so variant, and the wheel so\nmovable, there is no constant abiding, and that may be proved by many\nold chronicles of noble Hector, and Troilus, and Alisander the mighty\nconqueror, and many other more. When they were most in their royalty,\nthey alight lowest; and so fareth by me, said Sir Launcelot, for in\nthis realm I had worship, and by me and mine all the whole Round Table\nhath been increased more in worship by me and my blood than by any\nother. And therefore wit thou well, Sir Gawaine, I may live upon my\nlands as well as any knight that here is. And if ye, most redoubted\nking, will come upon my lands with Sir Gawaine, to war upon me, I must\nendure you as well as I may. But as to you, Sir Gawaine, if that ye\ncome there, I pray you charge me not with treason nor felony, for, and\nye do, I must answer you. Do thou thy best, said Sir Gawaine, therefore\nhie thee fast that thou were gone, and wit thou well we shall soon come\nafter, and break the strongest castle that thou hast upon thy head.\nThat shall not need, said Sir Launcelot, for and I were as orgulous set\nas ye are, wit ye well I should meet with you in midst of the field.\nMake thou no more language, said Sir Gawaine, but deliver the queen\nfrom thee, and pike thee lightly out of this court. Well, said Sir\nLauncelot, and I had wist of this short coming, I would have advised me\ntwice or that I had come hither; for and the queen had been so dear to\nme as ye noise her, I durst have kept her from the fellowship of the\nbest knights under heaven. And then Sir Launcelot said unto Guenever,\nin hearing of the king and them all, Madam, now I must depart from you\nand this noble fellowship for ever; and sithen it is so, I beseech you\nto pray for me, and say me well, and if ye be hard bestad by any false\ntongues, lightly, my lady, let send me word, and if any knight\u2019s hands\nmay deliver you by battle, I shall deliver you. And therewithal Sir\nLauncelot kissed the queen, and then he said all openly, Now let see\nwhat he be in this place, that dare say the queen is not true unto my\nlord Arthur: let see who will speak, and he dare speak. And therewith\nhe brought the queen to the king, and then Sir Launcelot took his leave\nand departed; and there was neither king, duke ne earl, baron ne\nknight, lady nor gentlewoman, but all they wept as people out of their\nmind, except Sir Gawaine; and when the noble Sir Launcelot took his\nhorse, to ride out of Carlisle, there was sobbing and weeping for pure\ndole of his departing; and so he took his way unto Joyous Gard, and\nthen ever after he called it the Dolorous Gard. And thus departed Sir\nLauncelot from the court for ever. And so when he came to Joyous Gard,\nhe called his fellowship unto him, and asked them what they would do.\nThen they answered all wholly together with one voice, they would as he\nwould do. My fair fellows, said Sir Launcelot, I must depart out of\nthis most noble realm, and now I shall depart it grieveth me sore, for\nI shall depart with no worship. For a banished man departed never out\nof no realm with no worship, and that is my heaviness, for ever I fear\nafter my days that they shall chronicle upon me that I was banished out\nof this land; and else, my fair lords, be ye sure, and I had not dread\nshame, my lady queen Guenever and I should never have departed. Then\nspake many noble knights, as Sir Palamides, Sir Safir his brother, and\nSir Bellangere le Beuse, and Sir Urre with Sir Lavaine, with many\nother, Sir, and ye be so disposed to abide in this country, we will\nnever fail you; and if ye list not to abide in this land, there is none\nof the good knights that here be will fail you, for many causes. One\nis, all we that be not of your blood shall never be welcome to the\ncourt. And sithen it liked us to take a part with you in your distress\nand heaviness in this realm, wit you well it shall like us as well to\ngo in other countries with you, and there to take such part as ye do.\nMy fair lords, said Sir Launcelot, I well understand you, and, as I\ncan, thank you: and ye shall understand such livelihood as I am born\nunto I shall depart with you, in this manner of wise, that is for to\nsay, I shall depart all my livelihood and all my lands freely among\nyou, and I myself will have as little as any of you, for have I\nsufficient that may long to my person, I will ask none other rich\narray; and I trust to God to maintain you on my lands as well as ever\nwere maintained any knights. Then spake all the knights at once, He\nhave shame that will leave you; for we all understand in this realm\nwill be now no quiet, but ever strife and debate, now the fellowship of\nthe Round Table is broken; for by the noble fellowship of the Round\nTable was king Arthur upborne, and by their nobleness the king and all\nhis realm was in quiet and in rest. And a great part, they said all,\nwas because of your nobleness.\n_How Sir Launcelot passed over the sea, and how he made great lords of\n the knights that went with him._\nTruly, said Sir Launcelot, I thank you all of your good saying,\nhowbeit, I wot well, in me was not all the stability of this realm. But\nin that I might I did my devoir, and well, I am sure, I knew many\nrebellions in my days that by me were appeased; and I trow we all shall\nhear of them in short space, and that me sore repenteth. For ever I\ndread me, said Sir Launcelot, that Sir Mordred will make trouble, for\nhe is passing envious, and applieth him to trouble. So they were\naccorded to go with Sir Launcelot to his lands. And to make short tale,\nthey trussed, and paid all that would ask them. And wholly an hundred\nknights departed with Sir Launcelot at once, and made their avows they\nwould never leave him for weal nor for woe; and so they shipped at\nCardiff, and sailed unto Benwick: some men call it Bayonne, and some\nmen call it Beaume, where the wine of Beaume is. But to say the sooth,\nSir Launcelot and his nephews were lords of all France, and of all the\nlands that longed unto France, he and his kindred rejoiced it all\nthrough Sir Launcelot\u2019s noble prowess. And then Sir Launcelot stuffed\nand furnished and garnished all his noble towns and castles. Then all\nthe people of those lands came unto Sir Launcelot on foot and hands.\nAnd so when he had established all these countries, he shortly called a\nparliament; and there he crowned Sir Lionel king of France; and Sir\nBors he crowned him king of all king Claudas\u2019 lands; and Sir Ector de\nMaris, that was Sir Launcelot\u2019s youngest brother, he crowned him king\nof Benwick, and also king of all Guienne, that was Sir Launcelot\u2019s own\nland. And he made Sir Ector prince of them all, and thus he departed.\nThen Sir Launcelot advanced all his noble knights, and first he\nadvanced them of his blood; that was Sir Blamor he made him duke of\nLimosin in Guienne, and Sir Bleoberis he made him duke of Poictiers,\nand Sir Gahalantin he made him duke of Querne, and Sir Galihodin he\nmade him duke of Sentonge, and Sir Galihud he made him earl of Perigot,\nand Sir Menadeuke he made him earl of Roerge, and Sir Villiers the\nvaliant he made him earl of Bearn, and Sir Hebes le Renoumes he made\nhim earl of Comange, and Sir Lavaine he made him earl of Arminak, and\nSir Urre he made him earl of Estrake, and Sir Neroneus he made him earl\nof Pardiak, and Sir Plenorius he made him earl of Foise, and Sir\nSelises of the dolorous tower he made him earl of Masauke, and sir\nMelias de Lile he made him earl of Tursauk, and Sir Bellangere le Bewse\nhe made him earl of the Landes, and Sir Palamides he made him duke of\nthe Provence, and Sir Safir he made him duke of Langedok, and Sir\nClegis he gave him the earldom of Agente, and Sir Sadok he gave him the\nearldom of Surlat, and Sir Dinas le seneschal he made him duke of\nAnjou, and Sir Clarrus he made him duke of Normandy. Thus Sir Launcelot\nrewarded his noble knights, and many more, that me seemeth it were too\nlong to rehearse.\n_How king Arthur and Sir Gawaine made a great host ready to go over sea\n to make war on Sir Launcelot._\nSo leave we Sir Launcelot in his lands, and his noble knights with him,\nand return we again unto king Arthur and to Sir Gawaine, that made a\ngreat host ready, to the number of threescore thousand, and all thing\nwas made ready for their shipping to pass over the sea; and so they\nshipped at Cardiff. And there king Arthur made Sir Mordred chief ruler\nof all England, and also he put queen Guenever under his governance;\nbecause Sir Mordred was king Arthur\u2019s son, he gave him the rule of his\nland, and of his wife, and so king Arthur passed over the sea and\nlanded upon Sir Launcelot\u2019s lands, and there he burnt and wasted,\nthrough the vengeance of Sir Gawaine, all that they might overrun. When\nthis word came to Sir Launcelot, that king Arthur and Sir Gawaine were\nlanded upon his lands, and made a full destruction and waste, then\nspake Sir Bors and said, My lord Sir Launcelot, it is shame that we\nsuffer them thus to ride over our lands, for wit you well, suffer ye\nthem as long as ye will, they will do you no favour, and they may\nhandle you. Then said Sir Lionel, that was ware and wise, My lord Sir\nLauncelot, I will give you this counsel, let us keep our strong walled\ntowns until they have hunger and cold, and blow on their nails, and\nthen let us freshly set upon them, and shred them down as sheep in a\nfield, that aliens may take ensample for ever how they land upon our\nlands. Then spake king Bagdemagus to Sir Launcelot, Sir, your courtesy\nwill shend us all, and thy courtesy hath waked all this sorrow: for,\nand they thus over our lands ride, they shall by process bring us all\nto nought, whilst we thus in holes us hide. Then said Sir Galihud unto\nSir Launcelot, Sir, here be knights come of kings\u2019 blood that will not\nlong droop, and they are within these walls, therefore give us leave,\nlike as we be knights, to meet them in the field, and we shall slay\nthem, that they shall curse the time that ever they came into this\ncountry. Then spake seven brethren of North Wales, and they were seven\nnoble knights, a man might seek in seven lands or he might find such\nseven knights: then they all said at once, Sir Launcelot, let us out\nride with Sir Galihud, for we be never wont to cower in castles nor in\nnoble towns. Then spake Sir Launcelot, that was master and governor of\nthem all, My fair lords, wit you well I am full loth to ride out with\nmy knights, for shedding of christian blood; and yet my lands I\nunderstand be full bare to sustain any host a while, for the mighty\nwars that whilom made king Claudus upon this country, upon my father\nking Ban, and on mine uncle king Bors; howbeit we will as at this time\nkeep our strong walls, and I shall send a messager unto my lord Arthur,\na treaty for to take, for better is peace than always war. So Sir\nLauncelot sent forth a damsel, and a dwarf with her, requiring king\nArthur to leave his warring upon his lands, and so she start upon a\npalfrey, and the dwarf ran by her side. And when she came to the\npavilion of king Arthur, there she alight, and there met her a gentle\nknight Sir Lucan the butler, and said, Fair damsel, come ye from Sir\nLauncelot du Lake? Yea, sir, she said, therefore I come hither to speak\nwith my lord the king. Alas, said Sir Lucan, my lord Arthur would love\nLauncelot, but Sir Gawaine will not suffer him. And then he said, I\npray to God, damsel, ye may speed well, for all we that be about the\nking would that Sir Launcelot did best of any knight living. And so\nwith this Lucan led the damsel unto the king, where he sat with Sir\nGawaine for to hear what she would say. So when she had told her tale,\nthe water ran out of the king\u2019s eyes, and all the lords were full glad\nfor to advise the king as to be accorded with Sir Launcelot, save all\nonly Sir Gawaine, and he said, My lord, mine uncle, what will ye do?\nwill ye now turn again, now ye are past thus far upon this journey? all\nthe world will speak of you villainy. Nay, said Arthur, wit thou well,\nSir Gawaine, I will do as ye will advise me; and yet me seemeth, said\nArthur, his fair proffers were not good to be refused: but sithen I am\ncomen so far upon this journey, I will that ye give the damsel her\nanswer, for I may not speak to her for pity, for her proffers be so\nlarge.\n_What message Sir Gawaine sent to Sir Launcelot, and king Arthur laid\n siege to Benwick, and other matters._\nThen Sir Gawaine said to the damsel thus: Damsel, say ye to Sir\nLauncelot, that it is waste labour, now to sue to mine uncle. For tell\nhim, and he would have made any labour for peace, he should have made\nit or this time: for tell him now it is too late. And say, that I, Sir\nGawaine, so send him word, that I promise him, by the faith I owe unto\nGod, and to knighthood, I shall never leave him till he have slain me,\nor I him. So the damsel wept and departed, and there were many weeping\neyes: and so Sir Lucan brought the damsel to her palfrey, and so she\ncame to Sir Launcelot, where he was among all his knights; and when Sir\nLauncelot had heard this answer, then the tears ran down by his cheeks.\nAnd then his noble knights strode about him, and said, Sir Launcelot,\nwherefore make ye such cheer: think what ye are, and what men we are,\nand let us noble knights match them in midst of the field. That may be\nlightly done, said Sir Launcelot, but I was never so loth to do battle,\nand therefore, I pray you, fair sirs, as ye love me, be ruled as I will\nhave you, for I will always flee that noble king that made me knight.\nAnd when I may no farther, I must needs defend me, and that will be\nmore worship for me, and us all, than to compare with that noble king\nwhom we have all served. Then they held their language, and as that\nnight they took their rest. And upon the morn, early, in the dawning of\nthe day, as knights looked out, they saw the city of Benwick besieged\nround about, and fast they began to set up ladders. And then they\ndefied them out of the town, and beat them from the walls mightily.\nThen came forth Sir Gawaine, well armed, upon a stiff steed, and he\ncame before the chief gate with his spear in his hand, crying, Sir\nLauncelot, where art thou, is there none of you proud knights dare\nbreak a spear with me? Then Sir Bors made him ready, and came forth out\nof the town, and there Sir Gawaine encountered with Sir Bors; and at\nthat time he smote Sir Bors down from his horse, and almost he had\nslain him, and so Sir Bors was rescued, and borne into the town. Then\ncame forth Sir Lionel, brother to Sir Bors, and thought to revenge him,\nand either feutred their spears, and ran together, and there they met\nspitefully, but Sir Gawaine had such grace that he smote Sir Lionel\ndown, and wounded him there passing sore, and then Sir Lionel was\nrescued, and borne into the town. And this Sir Gawaine came every day,\nand he failed not, but that he smote down one knight or other. So thus\nthey endured half a year, and much slaughter was of people on both\nparties. Then it befell upon a day, Sir Gawaine came before the gates\narmed at all pieces, on a noble horse, with a great spear in his hand,\nand then he cried with a loud voice, Where art thou now, thou false\ntraitor. Sir Launcelot? Why hidest thou thyself within holes and walls\nlike a coward? Look out now, thou false traitor knight, and here I\nshall revenge upon thy body the death of my three brethren. All this\nlanguage heard Sir Launcelot every deal, and his kin and his knights\ndrew about him, and all they said at once to Sir Launcelot, Sir\nLauncelot, now must ye defend you like a knight, or else ye be shamed\nfor ever: for now ye be called upon treason, it is time for you to\nstir, for ye have slept over long, and suffered over much. So God me\nhelp, said Sir Launcelot, I am right heavy of Sir Gawaine\u2019s words, for\nnow he charged me with a great charge; and therefore I wot it as well\nas ye, that I must defend me, or else to be recreant. Then Sir\nLauncelot bade saddle his strongest horse, and bad let fetch his arms,\nand bring all unto the gate of the tower. And then Sir Launcelot spake\non high unto king Arthur, and said, My lord Arthur, and noble king that\nmade me knight, wit you well I am right heavy for your sake, that ye\nthus sue upon me, and always I forbear you, for, and I would have been\nvengeable, I might have met you in midst of the field, and there to\nhave made your boldest knights full tame: and now I have forborne half\na year, and suffered you and Sir Gawaine to do what ye would do, and\nnow I may endure it no longer, now must I needs defend myself, insomuch\nSir Gawaine hath appealed me of treason,\u2014the which is greatly against\nmy will, that ever I should fight against any of your blood; but now I\nmay not forsake it, I am driven thereto as a beast till a bay. Then Sir\nGawaine said, Sir Launcelot, and thou darest do battle, leave thy\nbabbling and come off, and let us ease our hearts. Then Sir Launcelot\narmed him lightly, and mounted upon his horse. And either of the\nknights gat great spears in their hands, and the host without stood\nstill all apart, and the noble knights came out of the city by a great\nnumber, insomuch that when Arthur saw the number of men and knights he\nmarvelled, and said to himself, Alas, that ever Sir Launcelot was\nagainst me, for now I see he hath forborne me. And so the covenant was\nmade, there should no man nigh them, nor deal with them, till the one\nwere dead or yielden.\n_How Sir Gawaine and Sir Launcelot did battle together, and how Sir\n Gawaine was overthrown and hurt._\nThen Sir Gawaine and Sir Launcelot departed a great way in sunder, and\nthen they came together with all their horses\u2019 might as they might run,\nand either smote other in midst of their shields, but the knights were\nso strong, and their spears so big, that their horses might not endure\ntheir buffets, and so the horses fell to the earth. And then they\navoided their horses, and dressed their shields afore them. Then they\nstood together, and gave many sad strokes on divers places of their\nbodies, that the blood brast out on many sides and places. Then had Sir\nGawaine such a grace and gift that an holy man had given to him, that\nevery day in the year, from underne till high noon, his might increased\nthose three hours, as much as thrice his strength, and that caused Sir\nGawaine to win great honour. And for his sake king Arthur made an\nordinance that all manner of battles for any quarrels that should be\ndone before king Arthur, should begin at underne, and all was done for\nSir Gawaine\u2019s love, that by likelihood if that Sir Gawaine were on the\none part he should have the better in battle, while his strength\nendured three hours, but there were but few knights that time living\nthat knew this advantage that Sir Gawaine had, but king Arthur all\nonly. Thus Sir Launcelot fought with Sir Gawaine, and when Sir\nLauncelot felt his might evermore increase, Sir Launcelot wondered, and\ndread him sore to be shamed. For, as the French book saith, Sir\nLauncelot wend, when he felt Sir Gawaine double his strength, that he\nhad been a fiend and no earthly man, wherefore Sir Launcelot traced and\ntraversed, and covered himself with his shield, and kept his might and\nhis braid during three hours: and that while Sir Gawaine gave him many\nsad brunts and many sad strokes, that all the knights that beheld Sir\nLauncelot marvelled how he might endure him, but full little understood\nthey that travail that Sir Launcelot had for to endure him. And then\nwhen it was past noon, Sir Gawaine had no more but his own might. Then\nSir Launcelot felt him so come down; then he stretched him up, and\nstood near Sir Gawaine, and said thus, My lord Sir Gawaine, now I feel\nye have done, now my lord Sir Gawaine I must do my part, for many great\nand grievous strokes I have endured you this day with great pain. Then\nSir Launcelot doubled his strokes, and gave Sir Gawaine such a buffet\non the helmet, that he fell down on his side, and Sir Launcelot\nwithdrew him from him. Why withdrawest thou thee? said Sir Gawaine; now\nturn again, false traitor knight, and slay me; for and thou leave me\nthus, when I am whole I shall do battle with thee again.\u2014I shall\nendure you, sir, by God\u2019s grace, but wit thou well, Sir Gawaine, I will\nnever smite a felled knight. And so Sir Launcelot went into the city,\nand Sir Gawaine was borne into one of king Arthur\u2019s pavilions, and\nleeches were brought to him, and searched and salved with soft\nointments. And then Sir Launcelot said, Now have good day, my lord the\nking, for, wit you well, ye win no worship at these walls; and if I\nwould my knights out bring, there should many a man die. Therefore, my\nlord Arthur, remember you of old kindness, and however I fare Jesu be\nyour guide in all places.\n_Of the sorrow that king Arthur made for the war, and of another battle\n where also Sir Gawaine had the worse._\nAlas, said the king, that ever this unhappy war was begun, for ever Sir\nLauncelot forbeareth me in all places, and in likewise my kin, and that\nis seen well this day by my nephew Sir Gawaine. Then king Arthur fell\nsick for sorrow of Sir Gawaine, that he was sore hurt, and because of\nthe war betwixt him and Sir Launcelot. So then they on king Arthur\u2019s\nparty kept the siege with little war withoutforth, and they withinforth\nkept their walls, and defended them when need was. Thus Sir Gawaine lay\nsick about three weeks in his tents, with all manner of leech-craft\nthat might be had: and as soon as Sir Gawaine might go and ride, he\narmed him at all points, and start upon a courser, and gat a spear in\nhis hand, and so he came riding afore the chief gate of Benwick, and\nthere he cried on high, Where art thou, Sir Launcelot? come forth thou\nfalse traitor knight, and recreant, for I am here, Sir Gawaine, will\nprove this that I say on thee. All this language Sir Launcelot heard,\nand then he said thus, Sir Gawaine, me repenteth of your foul saying,\nthat ye will not cease of your language, for you wot well, Sir Gawaine,\nI know your might, and all that ye may do, and well ye wot, Sir\nGawaine, ye may not greatly hurt me. Come down, traitor knight, said\nhe, and make it good the contrary with thy hands; for it mishapped me\nthe last battle to be hurt of thy hands, therefore, wit thou well, that\nI am come this day to make amends, for I ween this day to lay thee as\nlow as thou laidest me. Defend me, said Sir Launcelot, that ever I be\nso far in your danger as ye have been in mine, for then my days were\ndone. But Sir Gawaine, said Sir Launcelot, ye shall not think that I\ntarry long, but sithen that ye so unknightly call me of treason, ye\nshall have both your hands full of me. And then Sir Launcelot armed him\nat all points, and mounted upon his horse, and gat a great spear in his\nhand, and rode out at the gate. And both the hosts were assembled, of\nthem without, and of them within, and stood in array full manly. And\nboth parties were charged to hold them still, to see and behold the\nbattle of these two noble knights. And then they laid their spears in\ntheir rests, and they came together as thunder. And Sir Gawaine brake\nhis spear upon Sir Launcelot in an hundred pieces unto his hand, and\nSir Launcelot smote him with a greater might, that Sir Gawaine\u2019s horse\nfeet raised, and so the horse and he fell to the earth. Then Sir\nGawaine deliverly avoided his horse, and put his shield afore him, and\neagerly drew his sword, and bad Sir Launcelot, Alight, traitor knight,\nfor if this mare\u2019s son hath failed me, wit thou well a king\u2019s son and a\nqueen\u2019s son shall not fail thee.\nThen Sir Launcelot avoided his horse, and dressed his shield afore him,\nand drew his sword, and so stood they together, and gave many sad\nstrokes, that all men on both parties had thereof passing great wonder.\nBut when Sir Launcelot felt Sir Gawaine\u2019s might so marvellously\nincrease, he then withheld his courage and his wind, and kept himself\nwonder covert of his might, and under his shield he traced and\ntraversed here and there, to break Sir Gawaine\u2019s strokes and his\ncourage; and Sir Gawaine enforced himself with all his might and power\nto destroy Sir Launcelot, for, as the French book saith, ever as Sir\nGawaine\u2019s might increased, right so increased his wind and his evil\nwill. Thus Sir Gawaine did great pain unto Sir Launcelot three hours,\nthat he had great pain for to defend him. And when the three hours were\npassed, that Sir Launcelot felt that Sir Gawaine was come to his own\nproper strength, then Sir Launcelot said unto Sir Gawaine, Now have I\nproved you twice, that ye are a full dangerous knight, and a wonderful\nman of your might, and many wonderful deeds have you done in your days:\nfor by your might increasing you have deceived many a full noble and\nvaliant knight; and now I feel that ye have done your mighty deeds. Now\nwit you well I must do my deeds. And then Sir Launcelot stood near Sir\nGawaine, and then Sir Launcelot doubled his strokes, and Sir Gawaine\ndefended him mightily. But nevertheless Sir Launcelot smote such a\nstroke upon Sir Gawaine\u2019s helm, and upon the old wound, that Sir\nGawaine sinked down upon his one side in a swoon. And anon as he did\nawake, he waved and foined at Sir Launcelot as he lay, and said,\nTraitor knight, wit thou well I am not yet slain: come thou near me,\nand perform this battle unto the uttermost. I will no more do than I\nhave done, said Sir Launcelot; for when I see you on foot I will do\nbattle upon you all the while I see you stand on your feet; but for to\nsmite a wounded man, that may not stand, God defend me from such a\nshame. And then he turned him and went his way toward the city, and Sir\nGawaine evermore calling him traitor knight, and said, Wit thou well,\nSir Launcelot, when I am whole, I shall do battle with thee again; for\nI shall never leave thee till that one of us be slain. Thus as this\nsiege endured, and as Sir Gawaine lay sick near a month, and when he\nwas well recovered, and ready within three days to do battle again with\nSir Launcelot, right so came tidings unto Arthur from England, that\nmade king Arthur and all his host to remove.\n Here foloweth the xxi book.\n_How Sir Mordred presumed and took on him to be king of England, and\n would have married the queen, his uncle\u2019s wife._\nAs Sir Mordred was ruler of all England, he did do make letters as\nthough that they came from beyond the sea, and the letters specified\nthat king Arthur was slain in battle with Sir Launcelot. Wherefore Sir\nMordred made a Parliament, and called the lords together, and there he\nmade them to choose him king, and so was he crowned at Canterbury, and\nheld a feast there fifteen days, and afterward he drew him unto\nWinchester, and there he took the queen Guenever, and said plainly,\nthat he would wed her which was his uncle\u2019s wife, and his father\u2019s\nwife. And so he made ready for the feast, and a day prefixed that they\nshould be wedded; wherefore queen Guenever was passing heavy. But she\ndurst not discover her heart, but spake fair, and agreed to Sir\nMordred\u2019s will. Then she desired of Sir Mordred for to go to London, to\nbuy all manner of things that longed unto the wedding. And because of\nher fair speech Sir Mordred trusted her well enough, and gave her leave\nto go. And so when she came to London, she took the tower of London,\nand suddenly, in all haste possible, she stuffed it with all manner of\nvictual, and well garnished it with men, and so kept it. Then when Sir\nMordred wist and understood how he was beguiled, he was passing wroth\nout of measure. And a short tale for to make, he went and laid a mighty\nsiege about the tower of London, and made many great assaults thereat,\nand threw many great engines unto them, and shot great guns. But all\nmight not prevail Sir Mordred, for queen Guenever would never, for fair\nspeech nor for foul, would never trust to come in his hands again. And\nthen came the bishop of Canterbury, the which was a noble clerk and an\nholy man, and thus he said to Sir Mordred: Sir, what will ye do, will\nye first displease God, and sithen shame yourself and all knighthood?\nIs not king Arthur your uncle, no further but your mother\u2019s brother,\nand are ye not his son, therefore how may ye wed your father\u2019s wife?\nSir, said the noble clerk, leave this opinion, or else I shall curse\nyou with book, and bell, and candle. Do thou thy worst, said Sir\nMordred, wit thou well I shall defy thee. Sir, said the bishop, and wit\nyou well I shall not fear me to do that me ought to do. Also where ye\nnoise where my lord Arthur is slain, and that is not so, and therefore\nye will make a foul work in this land. Peace, thou false priest, said\nSir Mordred, for, and thou chafe me any more, I shall make strike off\nthy head. So the bishop departed, and did the curse in the most\norgulous wise that might be done. And then Sir Mordred sought the\nbishop of Canterbury for to have slain him. Then the bishop fled, and\ntook part of his goods with him, and went nigh unto Glastonbury, and\nthere he was as priest hermit in a chapel, and lived in poverty and in\nholy prayers: for well he understood that mischievous war was at hand.\nThen Sir Mordred sought on queen Guenever by letters and sondes, and by\nfair means and foul means, for to have her to come out of the tower of\nLondon, but all this availed not, for she answered him shortly, openly\nand privily, that she had lever slay herself than to be married with\nhim. Then came word to Sir Mordred that king Arthur had raised the\nsiege from Sir Launcelot, and he was coming homeward with a great host,\nto be avenged upon Sir Mordred. Wherefore Sir Mordred made write writs\nto all the barony of this land, and much people drew to him. For then\nwas the common voice among them, that with Arthur was none other life\nbut war and strife, and with Sir Mordred was great joy and bliss. Thus\nwas Sir Arthur depraved and evil said of. And many there were that king\nArthur had made up of nought, and given them lands, might not then say\nof him a good word.\nLo ye, all Englishmen, see ye not what a mischief here was, for he that\nwas the most king and knight of the world, and most loved the\nfellowship of noble knights, and by him they were all upholden. Now\nmight not these Englishmen hold us content with him. Lo, thus was the\nold custom and usage of this land. And also men say, that we of this\nland have not yet lost nor forgotten that custom and usage. Alas, this\nis a great default of all Englishmen, for there may no thing please us\nno term. And so fared the people at that time; they were better pleased\nwith Sir Mordred than they were with king Arthur, and much people drew\nunto Sir Mordred, and said they would abide with him for better and for\nworse. And so Sir Mordred drew with a great host to Dover, for there he\nheard say that Sir Arthur would arrive, and so he thought to beat his\nown father from his lands. And the most party of all England held with\nSir Mordred, the people were so new fangle.\n_How after that king Arthur had tidings he returned and came to Dover,\n where Sir Mordred met him to let his landing, and of the death of Sir\n Gawaine._\nAnd so as Sir Mordred was at Dover with his host, there came king\nArthur with a great navy of ships, galleys, and carracks. And there was\nSir Mordred ready awaiting upon his landage, to let his own father to\nland upon the land that he was king over. Then there was launching of\ngreat boats and small, and full of noble men of arms, and there was\nmuch slaughter of gentle knights, and many a full bold baron was laid\nfull low on both parties. But king Arthur was so courageous, that there\nmight no manner of knights let him to land, and his knights fiercely\nfollowed him. And so they landed, maugre Sir Mordred and all his power,\nand put Sir Mordred aback, that he fled and all his people. So when\nthis battle was done, king Arthur let bury his people that were dead,\nand then was the noble knight Sir Gawaine found in a great boat lying\nmore than half dead. When Sir Arthur wist that Sir Gawaine was laid so\nlow, he went unto him, and there the king made sorrow out of measure,\nand took Sir Gawaine in his arms, and thrice he there swooned. And when\nhe awaked he said, Alas, Sir Gawaine, my sister\u2019s son, here now thou\nliest, the man in the world that I loved most, and now is my joy gone:\nfor now, my nephew Sir Gawaine, I will discover me unto your person; in\nSir Launcelot and you I most had my joy, and mine affiance, and now\nhave I lost my joy of you both, wherefore all mine earthly joy is gone\nfrom me. Mine uncle king Arthur, said Sir Gawaine, wit you well, my\ndeath day is come, and all is through mine own hastiness and\nwilfulness, for I am smitten upon the old wound the which Sir Launcelot\ngave me, on the which I feel well I must die, and had Sir Launcelot\nbeen with you as he was, this unhappy war had never begun, and of all\nthis am I causer, for Sir Launcelot and his blood through their prowess\nheld all your cankered enemies in subjection and danger: and now, said\nSir Gawaine, ye shall miss Sir Launcelot. But, alas, I would not accord\nwith him, and therefore, said Sir Gawaine, I pray you, fair uncle, that\nI may have paper, pen, and ink, that I may write to Sir Launcelot a\nschedule with mine own hands. And then when paper and ink was brought,\nthen Gawaine was set up weakly by king Arthur, for he was shriven a\nlittle tofore, and then he wrote thus, as the French book maketh\nmention,\u2014Unto Sir Launcelot, flower of all noble knights that ever I\nheard of, or saw by my days, I Sir Gawaine, king Lot\u2019s son, of Orkney,\nsister\u2019s son unto the noble king Arthur, send thee greeting, and let\nthee have knowledge, that the tenth day of May I was smitten upon the\nold wound that thou gavest me afore the city of Benwick, and through\nthe same wound that thou gavest me I am come to my death-day. And I\nwill that all the world wit that I, Sir Gawaine, knight of the Table\nRound, sought my death, and not through thy deserving, but it was mine\nown seeking, wherefore I beseech thee, Sir Launcelot, to return again\nunto this realm, and see my tomb, and pray some prayer, more or less,\nfor my soul. And this same day that I wrote this schedule, I was hurt\nto the death in the same wound, the which I had of thy hand, Sir\nLauncelot. For of a more nobler man might I not be slain. Also, Sir\nLauncelot, for all the love that ever was betwixt us, make no tarrying,\nbut come over the sea in all haste, that thou mayest with thy noble\nknights rescue that noble king that made thee knight, that is my lord\nArthur, for he is full straitly bestad with a false traitor, that is my\nhalf brother Sir Mordred, and he hath let crown him king, and would\nhave wedded my lady queen Guenever, and so had he done, had she not put\nherself in the tower of London. And so the tenth day of May last past,\nmy lord Arthur and we all landed upon them at Dover, and there we put\nthat false traitor Sir Mordred to flight, and there it misfortuned me\nto be stricken upon thy stroke, and at the date of this letter was\nwritten but two hours and an half afore my death, written with mine own\nhand, and so subscribed with part of my heart\u2019s blood. And I require\nthee, most famous knight of the world, that thou wilt see my tomb.\u2014And\nthen Sir Gawaine wept, and king Arthur wept, and then they swooned\nboth. And when they awaked both, the king made Sir Gawaine to receive\nhis Saviour. And then Sir Gawaine prayed the king to send for Sir\nLauncelot, and to cherish him above all other knights. And so at the\nhour of noon, Sir Gawaine yielded up the spirit. And then the king let\ninter him in a chapel within Dover castle; and there yet all men may\nsee the skull of him, and the same wound is seen that Sir Launcelot\ngave him in battle. Then was it told king Arthur that Sir Mordred had\npitched a new field upon Barham Down. And upon the morn the king rode\nthither to him, and there was a great battle betwixt them, and much\npeople were slain on both parties. But at the last Sir Arthur\u2019s party\nstood best, and Sir Mordred and his party fled unto Canterbury.\n_How after Sir Gawaine\u2019s ghost appeared to king Arthur, and warned him\n that he should not fight that day._\nAnd then the king let search all the towns for his knights that were\nslain, and interred them; and salved them with soft salves that so sore\nwere wounded. Then much people drew unto king Arthur. And then they\nsaid that Sir Mordred warred upon king Arthur with wrong. And then king\nArthur drew him with his host down by the sea side, westward toward\nSalisbury, and there was a day assigned between king Arthur and Sir\nMordred, and they should meet upon a down beside Salisbury, and not far\nfrom the sea side, and this day was assigned on a Monday after Trinity\nSunday, whereof king Arthur was passing glad, that he might be avenged\nupon Sir Mordred. Then Sir Mordred araised much people about London,\nfor they of Kent, Southsex, and Surrey, Estsex, and Southfolk, and of\nNorthfolk, held the most party with Sir Mordred, and many a full noble\nknight drew unto Sir Mordred and to the king; but they that loved Sir\nLauncelot drew unto Sir Mordred. So upon Trinity Sunday at night king\nArthur dreamed a wonderful dream, and that was this, that him seemed he\nsat upon a chaflet in a chair, and the chair was fast to a wheel, and\nthereupon sat king Arthur in the richest cloth of gold that might be\nmade: and the king thought there was under him, far from him, an\nhideous deep black water, and therein were all manner of serpents, and\nworms, and wild beasts, fowl and horrible: and suddenly the king\nthought the wheel turned up so down, and he fell among the serpents,\nand every beast took him by a limb. And then the king cried as he lay\nin his bed and slept, Help! And then knights, squires, and yeomen\nawaked the king; and then he was so amazed that he wist not where he\nwas. And then he fell on slumbering again, not sleeping nor thoroughly\nwaking. So the king seemed verily that there came Sir Gawaine unto him\nwith a number of fair ladies with him. And when king Arthur saw him,\nthen he said, Welcome, my sister\u2019s son, I wend thou hadst been dead,\nand now I see thee on live, much am I beholding unto Almighty Jesu. Oh,\nfair nephew, and my sister\u2019s son, what be these ladies that hither be\ncome with you? Sir, said Sir Gawaine, all these be ladies for whom I\nhave foughten when I was man living: and all these are those that I did\nbattle for in righteous quarrel. And God hath given them that grace at\ntheir great prayer, because I did battle for them, that they should\nbring me hither unto you, thus much had God given me leave, for to warn\nyou of your death; for and ye fight as to-morn with Sir Mordred, as ye\nboth have assigned, doubt ye not ye must be slain, and the most part of\nyour people on both parties. And for the great grace and goodness that\nAlmighty Jesu hath unto you, and for pity of you and many more other\ngood men there shall be slain, God hath sent me to you, of his special\ngrace, to give you warning, that in no wise ye do battle as to-morn,\nbut that ye take a treaty for a month day; and proffer you largely, so\nas to-morn to be put in a delay. For within a month shall come Sir\nLauncelot, with all his noble knights, and rescue you worshipfully, and\nslay Sir Mordred and all that ever will hold with him. Then Sir Gawaine\nand all the ladies vanished. And anon the king called upon his knights,\nsquires, and yeomen, and charged them wightly to fetch his noble lords\nand wise bishops unto him. And when they were come, the king told them\nhis vision, what Sir Gawaine had told him, and warned him that if he\nfought on the morn he should be slain. Then the king commanded Sir\nLucan de butlere, and his brother Sir Bedivere, with two bishops with\nthem, and charged them in any wise and they might take a treaty for a\nmonth day with Sir Mordred;\u2014And spare not, proffer him lands and\ngoods, as much as ye think best. So then they departed, and came to Sir\nMordred, where he had a grim host of an hundred thousand men. And there\nthey intreated Sir Mordred long time, and at the last Sir Mordred was\nagreed for to have Cornwall and Kent, by king Arthur\u2019s days:\u2014after,\nall England, after the days of king Arthur.\n_How by misadventure of an adder the battle began, where Mordred was\n slain, and Arthur hurt to the death._\nThen were they condescended that king Arthur and Sir Mordred should\nmeet betwixt both their hosts, and every each of them should bring\nfourteen persons. And they came with this word unto king Arthur. Then\nsaid he, I am glad that this is done. And so he went into the field.\nAnd when Arthur should depart, he warned all his host that and they see\nany sword drawn, Look ye come on fiercely, and slay that traitor Sir\nMordred, for I in no wise trust him. In like wise Sir Mordred warned\nhis host that,\u2014And ye see any sword drawn, look that ye come on\nfiercely, and so slay all that ever before you standeth: for in no wise\nI will not trust for this treaty: for I know well my father will be\navenged upon me. And so they met as their pointment was, and so they\nwere agreed and accorded thoroughly: and wine was fetched, and they\ndrank. Right so came an adder out of a little heath bush, and it stung\na knight on the foot. And when the knight felt him stungen, he looked\ndown and saw the adder, and then he drew his sword to slay the adder,\nand thought of none other harm. And when the host on both parties saw\nthat sword drawn, then they blew beames, trumpets, and horns, and\nshouted grimly. And so both hosts dressed them together. And king\nArthur took his horse, and said, Alas this unhappy day, and so rode to\nhis party: and Sir Mordred in likewise. And never was there seen a more\ndolefuller battle in no christian land. For there was but rushing and\nriding, foining and striking, and many a grim word was there spoken\neither to other, and many a deadly stroke. But ever king Arthur rode\nthroughout the battle of Sir Mordred many times, and did full nobly as\na noble king should; and at all times he fainted never. And Sir Mordred\nthat day put him in devoir, and in great peril. And thus they fought\nall the long day, and never stinted, till the noble knights were laid\nto the cold ground, and ever they fought still, till it was near night,\nand by that time was there an hundred thousand laid dead upon the down.\nThen was Arthur wroth out of measure, when he saw his people so slain\nfrom him. Then the king looked about him, and then was he ware of all\nhis host, and of all his good knights, were left no more on live but\ntwo knights, that was Sir Lucan de butlere, and his brother Sir\nBedivere: and they full were sore wounded. Jesu mercy, said the king,\nwhere are all my noble knights becomen. Alas that ever I should see\nthis doleful day. For now, said Arthur, I am come to mine end. But\nwould to God that I wist where were that traitor Sir Mordred, that hath\ncaused all this mischief. Then was king Arthur ware where Sir Mordred\nleaned upon his sword among a great heap of dead men. Now give me my\nspear, said Arthur unto Sir Lucan, for yonder I have espied the traitor\nthat all this woe hath wrought. Sir, let him be, said Sir Lucan, for he\nis unhappy: and if ye pass this unhappy day, ye shall be right well\nrevenged upon him. Good lord, remember ye of your night\u2019s dream, and\nwhat the spirit of Sir Gawaine told you this night, yet God of his\ngreat goodness hath preserved you hitherto. Therefore, for God\u2019s sake,\nmy lord, leave off by this. For blessed be God ye have won the field:\nfor here we be three on live, and with Sir Mordred is none on live. And\nif ye leave off now, this wicked day of destiny is past. Tide me death,\nbetide me life, saith the king, now I see him yonder alone, he shall\nnever escape mine hands, for at a better avail shall I never have him.\nGod speed you well, said Sir Bedivere. Then the king gat his spear in\nboth his hands, and ran toward Sir Mordred, crying, Traitor, now is thy\ndeath day come. And when Sir Mordred heard Sir Arthur, he ran until him\nwith his sword drawn in his hand. And then king Arthur smote Sir\nMordred under the shield, with a foin of his spear throughout the body\nmore than a fathom. And when Sir Mordred felt that he had his death\u2019s\nwound, he thrust himself, with the might that he had, up to the bur of\nking Arthur\u2019s spear. And right so he smote his father Arthur with his\nsword holden in both his hands, on the side of the head, that the sword\npierced the helmet and the brain-pan, and therewithal Sir Mordred fell\nstark dead to the earth. And the noble Arthur fell in a swoon to the\nearth, and there he swooned oft-times. And Sir Lucan de butlere and Sir\nBedivere oft-times heaved him up, and so weakly they led him betwixt\nthem both to a little chapel not far from the sea side. And when the\nking was there, he thought him well eased. Then heard they people cry\nin the field. Now go thou, Sir Lucan, said the king, and do me to wit\nwhat betokens that noise in the field. So Sir Lucan departed, for he\nwas grievously wounded in many places. And so as he went, he saw and\nhearkened by the moon-light, how the pillers and robbers were come into\nthe field to pill and to rob many a full noble knight of broaches and\nbeads, of many a good ring, and of many a rich jewel; and who that were\nnot dead all out, there they slew them for their harness and their\nriches. When Sir Lucan understood this work, he came to the king as\nsoon as he might, and told him all what he had heard and seen.\nTherefore by mine advice, said Sir Lucan, it is best that we bring you\nto some town. I would it were so, said the king,\u2014\n_How king Arthur commanded to cast his sword Excalibur into the water,\n and how he was delivered to ladies in a barge._\nBut I may not stand, my head works so. Ah, Sir Launcelot, said king\nArthur, this day have I sore missed thee. Alas, that ever I was against\nthee, for now have I my death, whereof Sir Gawaine me warned in my\ndream. Then Sir Lucan took up the king the one part, and Sir Bedivere\nthe other part, and in the lifting, the king swooned, and Sir Lucan\nfell in a swoon with the lift, that the part of his bowels fell out of\nhis body, and therewith the noble knight\u2019s heart brast. And when king\nArthur came to himself again, he beheld Sir Lucan how he lay foaming at\nthe mouth, and part of his bowels lay at his feet. Alas, said the king,\nthis is unto me a full heavy sight to see this noble duke so die for my\nsake, for he would have holpen me that had more need of help than I.\nAlas, he would not complain him, his heart was so set to help me. Now\nJesu have mercy upon his soul. Then Sir Bedivere wept for the death of\nhis brother. Leave this mourning and weeping, said the king, for all\nthis will not avail me: for, wit thou well, and I might live myself the\ndeath of Sir Lucan would grieve me evermore; but my time hieth fast,\nsaid the king. Therefore, said Arthur, take thou Excalibur, my good\nsword, and go with it to yonder water side, and when thou comest there,\nI charge thee throw my sword in that water, and come again, and tell me\nwhat thou there seest. My lord, said Bedivere, your commandment shall\nbe done, and lightly bring you word again. So Sir Bedivere departed,\nand by the way he beheld that noble sword, that the pommel and haft\nwere all of precious stones, and then he said to himself, If I throw\nthis rich sword in the water, thereof shall never come good, but harm\nand loss. And then Sir Bedivere hid Excalibur under a tree. And as soon\nas he might he came again unto the king, and said he had been at the\nwater, and had thrown the sword into the water. What sawest thou there?\nsaid the king. Sir, he said, I saw nothing but waves and winds. That is\nuntruly said of thee, said the king; therefore go thou lightly again,\nand do my command as thou art to me lief and dear, spare not, but throw\nit in. Then Sir Bedivere returned again, and took the sword in his\nhand; and then him thought sin and shame to throw away that noble\nsword; and so eft he hid the sword, and returned again, and told to the\nking that he had been at the water, and done his commandment. What saw\nthou there? said the king. Sir, he said, I saw nothing but the waters\nwap and the waves wan. Ah traitor, untrue, said king Arthur, now hast\nthou betrayed me twice. Who would have wend that thou that hast been to\nme so lief and dear, and thou art named a noble knight, and would\nbetray me for the riches of the sword. But now go again lightly, for\nthy long tarrying putteth me in great jeopardy of my life, for I have\ntaken cold. And but if thou do now as I bid thee, if ever I may see\nthee, I shall slay thee with mine own hands, for thou wouldest for my\nrich sword see me dead. Then Sir Bedivere departed, and went to the\nsword, and lightly took it up, and went to the water side, and there he\nbound the girdle about the hilts, and then he threw the sword as far\ninto the water as he might, and there came an arm and an hand above the\nwater, and met it, and caught it, and so shook it thrice and\nbrandished, and then vanished away the hand with the sword in the\nwater. So Sir Bedivere came again to the king, and told him what he\nsaw. Alas, said the king, help me hence, for I dread me I have tarried\nover long. Then Sir Bedivere took the king upon his back, and so went\nwith him to that water side. And when they were at the water side, even\nfast by the bank hoved a little barge, with many fair ladies in it, and\namong them all was a queen, and all they had black hoods, and all they\nwept and shrieked when they saw king Arthur. Now put me into the barge,\nsaid the king: and so he did softly. And there received him three\nqueens with great mourning, and so they set him down, and in one of\ntheir laps king Arthur laid his head, and then that queen said, Ah,\ndear brother, why have ye tarried so long from me? Alas, this wound on\nyour head hath caught over much cold. And so then they rowed from the\nland; and Sir Bedivere beheld all those ladies go from him. Then Sir\nBedivere cried, Ah, my lord Arthur, what shall become of me now ye go\nfrom me, and leave me here alone among mine enemies. Comfort thyself,\nsaid the king, and do as well as thou mayest, for in me is no trust for\nto trust in. For I will into the vale of Avilion, to heal me of my\ngrievous wound. And if thou hear never more of me, pray for my soul.\nBut ever the queens and the ladies wept and shrieked, that it was pity\nto hear. And as soon as Sir Bedivere had lost the sight of the barge,\nhe wept and wailed, and so took the forest, and so he went all that\nnight, and in the morning he was ware betwixt two holts hoar of a\nchapel and an hermitage.\n_How Sir Bedivere found him on the morrow dead in an hermitage, and how\n he abode there with the hermit._\nThen was Sir Bedivere glad, and thither he went; and when he came into\nthe chapel, he saw where lay an hermit groveling on all four, there\nfast by a tomb was new graven. When the hermit saw Sir Bedivere, he\nknew him well, for he was but a little before bishop of Canterbury,\nthat Sir Mordred banished. Sir, said Sir Bedivere, what man is there\ninterred that ye pray so fast for? Fair son, said the hermit, I wot not\nverily, but by deeming. But this night, at midnight, here came a number\nof ladies, and brought hither a dead corpse, and prayed me to bury him;\nand here they offered an hundred tapers, and gave me an hundred\nbesants. Alas, said Sir Bedivere, that was my lord king Arthur, that\nhere lieth buried in this chapel! Then Sir Bedivere swooned, and when\nhe awoke he prayed the hermit he might abide with him still there, to\nlive with fasting and prayers. For from hence will I never go, said Sir\nBedivere, by my will, but all the days of my life here to pray for my\nlord Arthur. Ye are welcome to me, said the hermit, for I know you\nbetter than ye ween that I do. Ye are the bold Bedivere, and the full\nnoble duke Sir Lucan de butlere was your brother. Then Sir Bedivere\ntold the hermit all as ye have heard tofore. So there bode Sir Bedivere\nwith the hermit, that was tofore bishop of Canterbury, and there Sir\nBedivere put upon him poor clothes, and served the hermit full lowly in\nfasting and in prayers.\nThus of Arthur I find never more written in books that be authorized,\nnor more of the certainty of his death heard I never tell, but thus was\nhe led away in a ship wherein were three queens; that one was king\nArthur\u2019s sister queen Morgan le Fay; the other was the queen of\nNorthgalis; the third was the queen of the Waste Lands. Also there was\nNimue, the chief Lady of the lake, that had wedded Pelleas the good\nknight; and this lady had done much for king Arthur; for she would\nnever suffer Sir Pelleas to be in no place where he should be in danger\nof his life, and so he lived to the uttermost of his days with her in\ngreat rest. More of the death of king Arthur could I never find, but\nthat ladies brought him to his burials; and such one was buried there,\nthat the hermit bare witness that some time was bishop of Canterbury,\nbut yet the hermit knew not in certain that he was verily the body of\nking Arthur;\u2014for this tale Sir Bedivere, knight of the Round Table,\nmade it to be written.\n_Of the opinion of some men of the death of king Arthur; and how queen\n Guenever made her a nun in Almesbury._\nYet some men yet say in many parts of England that king Arthur is not\ndead, but had by the will of our Lord Jesu in another place. And men\nsay that he shall come again, and he shall win the holy cross. I will\nnot say it shall be so, but rather I will say, here in this world he\nchanged his life. But many men say that there is written upon his tomb\nthis verse,\n =Hic iacet Arthurus Rex quondam Rex que futurus.=\nThus leave I here Sir Bedivere with the hermit, that dwelled that time\nin a chapel beside Glastonbury, and there was his hermitage. And so\nthey lived in their prayers and fastings and great abstinence. And when\nqueen Guenever understood that king Arthur was slain, and all the noble\nknights, Sir Mordred and all the remnant, then the queen stole away,\nand five ladies with her, and so she went to Almesbury, and there she\nlet make herself a nun, and wore white clothes and black, and great\npenance she took, as ever did sinful lady in this land, and never\ncreature could make her merry, but lived in fasting, prayers, and\nalms-deeds, that all manner of people marvelled how virtuously she was\nchanged. Now leave we queen Guenever in Almesbury a nun in white\nclothes and black, and there she was abbess and ruler, as reason would;\nand turn we from her, and speak we of Sir Launcelot du Lake.\n_How when Sir Launcelot heard of the death of king Arthur, and of Sir\n Gawaine, and other matters, he came into England._\nAnd when he heard in his country that Sir Mordred was crowned king in\nEngland, and made war against king Arthur his own father, and would let\nhim to land in his own land; also it was told Sir Launcelot how that\nSir Mordred had laid siege about the tower of London, because the queen\nwould not wed him; then was Sir Launcelot wroth out of measure, and\nsaid to his kinsmen, Alas, that double traitor Sir Mordred, now me\nrepenteth that ever he escaped my hands, for much shame hath he done\nunto my lord Arthur. For all I feel by the doleful letter that my lord\nGawaine sent me, on whose soul Jesu have mercy, that my lord Arthur is\nright hard bested. Alas, said Sir Launcelot, that ever I should live to\nhear that most noble king, that made me knight, thus to be overset with\nhis subject in his own realm. And this doleful letter that my lord Sir\nGawaine hath sent me afore his death, praying me to see his tomb, wit\nyou well his doleful words shall never go from mine heart. For he was a\nfull noble knight as ever was born, and in an unhappy hour was I born,\nthat ever I should have that unhap to slay first Sir Gawaine, Sir\nGaheris the good knight, and mine own friend Sir Gareth, that full\nnoble knight. Alas, I may say I am unhappy, said Sir Launcelot, that\never I should do thus unhappily; and, alas, yet might I never have hap\nto slay that traitor Sir Mordred. Leave your complaints, said Sir Bors,\nand first revenge you of the death of Sir Gawaine, and it will be well\ndone that ye see Sir Gawaine\u2019s tomb, and secondly that ye revenge my\nlord Arthur and my lady queen Guenever. I thank you, said Sir\nLauncelot, for ever ye will my worship. Then they made them ready in\nall the haste that might be, with ships and galleys with Sir Launcelot\nand his host, to pass into England. And so he passed over the sea till\nhe came to Dover: and there he landed with seven kings, and the number\nwas hideous to behold. Then Sir Launcelot enquired of men of Dover\nwhere was king Arthur become? Then the people told him how that he was\nslain, and Sir Mordred and an hundred thousand died on a day, and how\nSir Mordred gave king Arthur there the first battle at his landing, and\nthere was good Sir Gawaine slain, and on the morn Sir Mordred fought\nwith the king upon Barham Down, and there the king put Sir Mordred to\nthe worse. Alas, said Sir Launcelot, this is the heaviest tidings that\never came to me. Now, fair sirs, said Sir Launcelot, shew me the tomb\nof Sir Gawaine. And then certain people of the town brought him into\nthe castle of Dover, and showed him the tomb. Then Sir Launcelot\nkneeled down and wept and prayed heartily for his soul. And that night\nhe made a dole, and all they that would come had as much flesh, fish,\nwine, and ale, and every man and woman had twelve pence, come who\nwould. Thus with his own hand dealt he his money in a mourning gown;\nand ever he wept, and prayed them to pray for the soul of Sir Gawaine.\nAnd on the morn all the priests and clerks that might be gotten in the\ncountry were there, and sung mass of Requiem. And there offered first\nSir Launcelot and he offered an hundred pound, and then the seven kings\noffered forty pound a piece, and also there was a thousand knights, and\neach of them offered a pound, and the offering dured from morn till\nnight. And Sir Launcelot lay two nights on his tomb in prayers and in\nweeping. Then on the third day Sir Launcelot called the kings, dukes,\nearls, barons and knights, and said thus: My fair lords, I thank you\nall of your coming into this country with me; but we come too late, and\nthat shall repent me while I live, but against death may no man rebel.\nBut sithen it is so, said Sir Launcelot, I will myself ride and seek my\nlady queen Guenever, for as I hear say, she hath great pain and much\ndisease, and I heard say that she is fled into the west country,\ntherefore ye all that abide me here, and but if I come again within\nfifteen days, then take your ships, and your fellowship, and depart\ninto your country. For I will do as I say to you.\n_How Sir Launcelot departed to seek the queen Guenever, and how he\n found her at Almesbury._\nThen came Sir Bors de Ganis, and said, My lord Sir Launcelot, what\nthink ye for to do, now to ride in this realm? wit thou well ye shall\nfind few friends. Be as be may, said Sir Launcelot, keep you still\nhere, for I will forth on my journey, and no man nor child shall go\nwith me. So it was no boot to strive, but he departed and rode\nwesterly, and there he sought a seven or eight days, and at the last he\ncame to a nunnery, and then was queen Guenever ware of Sir Launcelot as\nhe walked in the cloister, and when she saw him there she swooned\nthrice, that all the ladies and gentlewomen had work enough to hold the\nqueen up. So when she might speak, she called ladies and gentlewomen to\nher, and said, Ye marvel, fair ladies, why I make this fare. Truly, she\nsaid, it is for the sight of yonder knight that yonder standeth:\nwherefore, I pray you all, call him to me. When Sir Launcelot was\nbrought to her, then she said to all the ladies, Through this man and\nme hath all this war been wrought, and the death of the most noblest\nknights of the world; for through our love that we have loved together\nis my most noble lord slain. Therefore, Sir Launcelot, wit thou well I\nam set in such a plight to get my soul\u2019s health; and yet I trust,\nthrough God\u2019s grace, that after my death to have a sight of the blessed\nface of Christ, and at doomsday to sit on his right side, for as sinful\nas ever I was are saints in heaven. Therefore, Sir Launcelot, I require\nthee and beseech thee heartily, for all the love that ever was betwixt\nus, that thou never see me more in the visage; and I command thee on\nGod\u2019s behalf, that thou forsake my company, and to thy kingdom thou\nturn again and keep well thy realm from war and wrack. For as well as I\nhave loved thee, mine heart will not serve me to see thee; for through\nthee and me is the flower of kings and knights destroyed. Therefore,\nSir Launcelot, go to thy realm, and there take thee a wife, and live\nwith her with joy and bliss, and I pray thee heartily pray for me to\nour Lord, that I may amend my mis-living. Now, sweet madam, said Sir\nLauncelot, would ye that I should return again unto my country, and\nthere to wed a lady? Nay, madam, wit you well that shall I never do:\nfor I shall never be so false to you of that I have promised, but the\nsame destiny that ye have taken you to, I will take me unto, for to\nplease Jesu, and ever for you I cast me specially to pray. If thou wilt\ndo so, said the queen, hold thy promise; but I may never believe but\nthat thou wilt turn to the world again. Well, madam, said he, ye say as\npleaseth you, yet wist you me never false of my promise, and God defend\nbut I should forsake the world as ye have done. For in the quest of the\nSancgreal I had forsaken the vanities of the world, had not your lord\nbeen. And if I had done so at that time with my heart, will, and\nthought, I had passed all the knights that were in the Sancgreal,\nexcept Sir Galahad my son. And therefore, lady, sithen ye have taken\nyou to perfection, I must needs take me to perfection of right. For I\ntake record of God, in you I have had mine earthly joy. And if I had\nfound you now so disposed, I had cast me to have had you into mine own\nrealm.\n_How Sir Launcelot came to the hermitage where the archbishop of\n Canterbury was, and how he took the habit on him._\nBut sithen I find you thus disposed, I insure you faithfully I will\never take me to penance, and pray while my life lasteth, if that I may\nfind any hermit either grey or white that will receive me. Wherefore,\nmadam, I pray you kiss me, and never no more. Nay, said the queen, that\nshall I never do, but abstain you from such works. And they departed.\nBut there was never so hard an hearted man, but he would have wept to\nsee the dolour that they made. For there was lamentation as they had\nbeen stung with spears, and many times they swooned. And the ladies\nbare the queen to her chamber, and Sir Launcelot awoke, and went and\ntook his horse, and rode all that day and all that night in a forest,\nweeping. And at the last he was ware of an hermitage and a chapel stood\nbetwixt two cliffs, and then he heard a little bell ring to mass, and\nthither he rode and alight, and tied his horse to the gate, and heard\nmass. And he that sang mass was the bishop of Canterbury. Both the\nbishop and Sir Bedivere knew Sir Launcelot, and they spake together\nafter mass. But when Sir Bedivere had told his tale all whole, Sir\nLauncelot\u2019s heart almost brast for sorrow, and Sir Launcelot threw his\narms abroad, and said, Alas, who may trust this world! And then he\nkneeled down on his knees, and prayed the Bishop to shrive him and\nassoil him. And then he besought the bishop that he might be his\nbrother. Then the bishop said, I will gladly: and there he put an habit\nupon Sir Launcelot, and there he served God day and night with prayers\nand fastings.\nThus the great host abode at Dover. And then Sir Lionel took fifteen\nlords with him, and rode to London to seek Sir Launcelot. And there Sir\nLionel was slain and many of his lords. Then Sir Bors de Ganis made the\ngreat host for to go home again. And Sir Bors, Sir Ector de Maris, Sir\nBlamor, Sir Bleoberis, with more other of Sir Launcelot\u2019s kin, look on\nthem to ride all England overthwart and endlong, to seek Sir Launcelot.\nSo Sir Bors by fortune rode so long till he came to the same chapel\nwhere Sir Launcelot was. And so Sir Bors heard a little bell knell that\nrang to mass, and there he alight, and heard mass. And when mass was\ndone, the bishop, Sir Launcelot, and Sir Bedivere came to Sir Bors. And\nwhen Sir Bors saw Sir Launcelot in that manner clothing, then he prayed\nthe bishop that he might be in the same suit. And so there was an habit\nput upon him, and there he lived in prayers and fasting. And within\nhalf a year there was come Sir Galihud, Sir Galihodin, Sir Blamor, Sir\nBleoberis, Sir Williars, Sir Clarrus, and Sir Gahalantine. So all these\nseven noble knights there abode still. And when they saw Sir Launcelot\nhad taken him unto such perfection, they had no list to depart, but\ntook such an habit as he had. Thus they endured in great penance six\nyear, and then Sir Launcelot took the habit of priesthood, and a\ntwelvemonth he sang mass. And there was none of these other knights but\nthey read in books, and holp to sing mass, and rang bells, and did\nbodily all manner of service. And so their horses went where they\nwould, for they took no regard of no worldly riches. For when they saw\nSir Launcelot endure such penance, in prayers and fasting, they took no\nforce what pain they endured, for to see the noblest knight of the\nworld take such abstinence, that he waxed full lean. And thus upon a\nnight there came a vision to Sir Launcelot, and charged him, in\nremission of his sins, to haste him unto Almesbury,\u2014And by then thou\ncome there, thou shalt find queen Guenever dead: and therefore take thy\nfellows with thee, and purvey them of an horse bier, and fetch thou the\ncorpse of her, and bury her by her husband the noble king Arthur. So\nthis vision came to Launcelot thrice in one night.\n_How Sir Launcelot went with his seven fellows to Almesbury, and found\n there queen Guenever dead, whom they brought to Glastonbury._\nThen Sir Launcelot rose up or day, and told the hermit. It were well\ndone, said the hermit, that ye made you ready, and that ye disobey not\nthe vision. Then Sir Launcelot took his seven fellows with him, and on\nfoot they went from Glastonbury to Almesbury, the which is little more\nthan thirty miles. And thither they came within two days, for they were\nweak and feeble to go. And when Sir Launcelot was come to Almesbury,\nwithin the nunnery, queen Guenever died but half an hour before. And\nthe ladies told Sir Launcelot that queen Guenever told them all, or she\npassed, that Sir Launcelot had been priest near a twelvemonth,\u2014And\nhither he cometh as fast as he may to fetch my corpse: and beside my\nlord king Arthur he shall bury me. Wherefore the queen said in hearing\nof them all, I beseech Almighty God that I may never have power to see\nSir Launcelot with my worldly eyes. And thus, said all the ladies, was\never her prayer these two days, till she was dead. Then Sir Launcelot\nsaw her visage, but he wept not greatly, but sighed. And so he did all\nthe observance of the service himself, both the Dirige, and on the morn\nhe sang mass. And there was ordained an horse bier; and so with an\nhundred torches ever burning about the corpse of the queen, and ever\nSir Launcelot with his eight fellows went about the horse bier singing\nand reading many an holy orison, and frankincense upon the corpse\nincensed. Thus Sir Launcelot and his eight fellows went on foot from\nAlmesbury unto Glastonbury; and when they were come to the chapel and\nthe hermitage, there she had a Dirige with great devotion. And on the\nmorn the hermit, that sometime was bishop of Canterbury, sang the mass\nof Requiem with great devotion: and Sir Launcelot was the first that\noffered, and then all his eight fellows. And then she was wrapped in\ncered cloth of Raines, from the top to the toe in thirty fold, and\nafter she was put in a web of lead, and then in a coffin of marble. And\nwhen she was put in the earth, Sir Launcelot swooned, and lay long\nstill, while the hermit came out and awaked him, and said, Ye be to\nblame, for ye displease God with such manner of sorrow making. Truly,\nsaid Sir Launcelot, I trust I do not displease God, for He knoweth mine\nintent, for my sorrow was not, nor is not, for any rejoicing of sin,\nbut my sorrow may never have end. For when I remember of her beauty,\nand of her noblesse, that was both with her king and with her; so when\nI saw his corpse and her corpse so lie together, truly mine heart would\nnot serve to sustain my careful body. Also when I remember me, how by\nmy default, mine orgule, and my pride, that they were both laid full\nlow, that were peerless that ever was living of Christian people, wit\nyou well, said Sir Launcelot, this remembered, of their kindness and\nmine unkindness, sank so to my heart, that I might not sustain myself.\nSo the French book maketh mention.\n_How Sir Launcelot began to sicken, and after died, whose body was\n borne to Joyous Gard for to be buried._\nThen Sir Launcelot never after eat but little meat, nor drank, till he\nwas dead; for then he sickened more and more, and dried and dwined\naway; for the bishop nor none of his fellows might not make him to eat,\nand little he drank, that he was waxen by a cubit shorter than he was,\nthat the people could not know him; for evermore day and night he\nprayed, but sometime he slumbered a broken sleep, and ever he was lying\ngroveling on the tomb of king Arthur and queen Guenever. And there was\nno comfort that the bishop, nor Sir Bors, nor none of his fellows could\nmake him, it availed not. So within six weeks after, Sir Launcelot fell\nsick, and lay in his bed; and then he sent for the bishop that there\nwas hermit, and all his true fellows. Then Sir Launcelot said with\ndreary voice, Sir bishop, I pray you give to me all my rights that\nlongeth to a Christian man. It shall not need you, said the hermit and\nall his fellows, it is but heaviness of your blood: ye shall be well\namended by the grace of God to-morn. My fair lords, said Sir Launcelot,\nwit you well, my careful body will into the earth. I have warning more\nthen now I will say, therefore give me my rights. So when he was\nhouseled and eneled, and had all that a Christian man ought to have, he\nprayed the bishop that his fellows might bear his body to Joyous Gard.\nSome men say it was Anwick, and some men say it was Bamborow. Howbeit,\nsaid Sir Launcelot, me repenteth sore, but I made mine avow sometime\nthat in Joyous Gard I would be buried, and because of breaking of mine\navow, I pray you all lead me thither. Then there was weeping and\nwringing of hands among his fellows. So at a season of the night they\nwent all to their beds, for they all lay in one chamber. And so after\nmidnight, against day, the bishop that was hermit, as he lay in his bed\nasleep, he fell upon a great laughter: and therewith all the fellowship\nawoke, and came unto the bishop, and asked him what he ailed. Alas,\nsaid the bishop, why did ye awake me, I was never in all my life so\nmerry and so well at ease. Wherefore? said Sir Bors. Truly, said the\nbishop, here was Sir Launcelot with me, with more angels than ever I\nsaw men upon one day; and I saw the angels heave Sir Launcelot unto\nheaven, and the gates of heaven opened against him. It is but the\nvexing of dreams, said Sir Bors, for I doubt not Sir Launcelot aileth\nnothing but good. It may well be, said the bishop, go ye to his bed,\nand then shall ye prove the sooth. So when Sir Bors and his fellows\ncame to his bed they found him stark dead, and he lay as he had smiled,\nand the sweetest savour about him that ever they felt. Then was there\nweeping and wringing of hands, and the greatest dole they made that\never made men. And on the morn the bishop did his mass of Requiem; and\nafter the bishop and all the nine knights put Sir Launcelot in the same\nhorse bier that queen Guenever was laid in tofore that she was buried:\nand so the bishop and they altogether went with the corpse of Sir\nLauncelot daily, till they came to Joyous Gard, and ever they had an\nhundred torches burning about him; and so within fifteen days they came\nto Joyous Gard. And there they laid his corpse in the body of the\nquire, and sang and read many psalters and prayers over him and about\nhim; and ever his visage was laid open and naked, that all folk might\nbehold him; for such was the custom in those days, that all men of\nworship should so lie with open visage till that they were buried. And\nright thus as they were at their service, there came Sir Ector de\nMaris, that had seven year sought all England, Scotland, and Wales,\nseeking his brother Sir Launcelot.\n_How Sir Ector found Sir Launcelot his brother dead. And how\n Constantine reigned next after Arthur, and of the end of this book._\nAnd when Sir Ector heard such noise and light in the quire of Joyous\nGard, he alight and put his horse from him, and came into the quire,\nand there he saw men sing and weep. And all they knew Sir Ector, but he\nknew not them. Then went Sir Bors unto Sir Ector, and told him how\nthere lay his brother Sir Launcelot dead. And then Sir Ector threw his\nshield, sword, and helm from him; and when he beheld Sir Launcelot\u2019s\nvisage he fell down in a swoon. And when he awaked it were hard any\ntongue to tell the doleful complaints that he made for his brother. Ah,\nLauncelot, he said, thou were head of all Christian knights; and now I\ndare say, said Sir Ector, thou Sir Launcelot, there thou liest, that\nthou were never matched of earthly knight\u2019s hand; and thou were the\ncourtiest knight that ever bare shield; and thou were the truest friend\nto thy lover that ever bestrode horse; and thou were the truest lover\nof a sinful man that ever loved woman; and thou were the kindest man\nthat ever strake with sword; and thou were the goodliest person ever\ncame among press of knights; and thou was the meekest man and the\ngentlest that ever ate in hall among ladies; and thou were the sternest\nknight to thy mortal foe that ever put spear in the rest.\nThen there was weeping and dolour out of measure. Thus they kept Sir\nLauncelot\u2019s corpse on loft fifteen days, and then they buried it with\ngreat devotion. And then at leisure they went all with the bishop of\nCanterbury to his hermitage, and there they were together more than a\nmonth. Then Sir Constantine, that was Sir Cador\u2019s son, of Cornwall, was\nchosen king of England; and he was a full noble knight, and\nworshipfully he ruled this realm. And then this king Constantine sent\nfor the bishop of Canterbury, for he heard say where he was; and so he\nwas restored unto his bishopric, and left that hermitage; and Sir\nBedivere was there ever still hermit to his life\u2019s end. Then Sir Bors\nde Ganis, Sir Ector de Maris, Sir Gahalantine, Sir Galihud, Sir\nGalihodin, Sir Blamor, Sir Bleoberis, Sir Williars le Valiant, Sir\nClarrus of Cleremont; all these knights drew them to their countries.\nHowbeit king Constantine would have had them with him, but they would\nnot abide in this realm; and there they lived in their countries as\nholy men. And some English books make mention that they went never out\nof England after the death of Sir Launcelot, but that was but favour of\nmakers. For the French book maketh mention, and is authorised, that Sir\nBors, Sir Ector, Sir Blamor, and Sir Bleoberis, went into the holy\nland, there as Jesu Christ was quick and dead, and anon as they had\nstablished their lands; for the book saith so Sir Launcelot commanded\nthem for to do, or ever he passed out of this world. And these four\nknights did many battles upon the miscreants or Turks. And there they\ndied upon a Good Friday, for God\u2019s sake.\nHere is the end of the whole book of king Arthur, and of his noble\nknights of the Round Table, that when they were whole together there\nwas ever an hundred and forty. And here is the end of the Death of\nArthur. I pray you all gentlemen and gentlewomen that read this book of\nArthur and his knights from the beginning to the ending, pray for me\nwhile I am on live that God send me good deliverance, and when I am\ndead, I pray you all pray for my soul; for this book was ended the\nninth year of the reign of king Edward the Fourth by Sir Thomas\nMaleore, knight, as Jesu help him for his great might, as he is the\nservant of Jesu both day and night.\n\u00b6 Thus endeth thys noble and Ioyous book entytled le morte Darthur /\nNotwithstondyng it treateth of the byrth / lyf / and actes of the sayd\nkynge Arthur / of his noble knyghtes of the rounde table / theyr\nmeruayllous enquestes and aduentures / thachyeuyng of the sangreal / &\nin thende the dolourous deth & departyng out of thys world of them al /\nWhiche book was reduced in to englysshe by syr Thomas Malory knyght as\nafore is sayd / and by me deuyded in to xxi bookes chapytred and\nenprynted / and fynysshed in thabbey westmestre the last day of Iuyl\nthe yere of our lord M/CCCC/lxxx/V/\n _See Introduction, page xxxii. note 1_.\n\u2018Oh ye mighty and pompous lords, shining in the glory transitory of\nthis unstable life, as in reigning over realms great, and mighty\ncountries, fortified with strong castles and towers, edified with many\na rich city. Ye also, ye fierce and mighty chivalers, so valiant in\nadventurous deeds of arms, behold, behold, see how this mighty\nconqueror Arthur, whom in his human life all the world doubted\u2014ye\nalso, the noble queen Guenever, that sometime sat in her chair adorned\nwith gold, pearls, and precious stones, now lie full low in obscure\nfoss or pit covered with clods of earth and clay. Behold also this\nmighty champion Launcelot, peerless of knighthood, see now how he lieth\ngroveling on the cold mould, now being so feeble and faint that\nsometime was so terrible, how and in what manner ought ye to be so\ndesirous of the mundane honour so dangerous. Therefore me thinketh this\npresent book called La Morte Darthur is right necessary often to be\nread, for in it shall ye find the gracious, knightly, and virtuous war\nof most noble knights of the world, whereby they gat praising\ncontinual. Also me seemeth by the oft reading thereof ye shall greatly\ndesire to accustom yourself in following of those gracious knightly\ndeeds, that is to say, to dread God, and to love rightwiseness,\nfaithfully and courageously to serve your sovereign prince. And the\nmore that God hath given you the triumphal honour the meeker ye ought\nto be, ever fearing the unstableness of this deceivable world. And so I\npass over, and turn again to my matter.\u2019\n _See Introduction, page xxxiv. note 3._\nFor those who may care to see more of the manner in which the text of\nthe interpolated passages has been formed, I give the following\nspecimens in detail.\nThe first is from the beginning of the 11th Chapter of Book XXI.\n \u2018Than syr Launcelot rose vp or day/& tolde the heremyte/It were wel\n done sayd the heremyte that ye made you redy/& that ye dyshobeye\n not the auysyon/Than syr Launcelot toke his vii felowes with hym/&\n on fote they yede from glastynburye to almysburye the whyche is\n lytel more than xxx myle/& thyder they came within two dayes for\n they were wayke and feble to goo/& whan syr Launcelot was come to\n almysburye within the Nunerye quene gweneuer deyed but halfe an\n oure afore/and the ladyes tolde syr Launcelot that quene Gueneuer\n tolde hem al or she passyd/that syr Launcelot had been preest nere\n a twelue monthe/& hyder he cometh as faste as he may to fetch my\n cors/& besyde my lord kyng Arthur he shal berye me/\u2019\n \u2018Thenne syre Launcelot rose vp or day. And tolde the heremyte. It\n were well doon sayd the heremyte/that ye made ye redy/and that ye\n dysobeye not the aduysyon. Then\u0113 syr Launcelot toke his .vij.\n felowes w^t hym/& on fote they yede from Glastynbury to Almesbury.\n the whyche is lytyl more than .xxx. myle. And thyder they came\n wythin two dayes for they were weyke & feble to go. And whan syr\n Launcelot was come to Almesbury wythin the Nunnery/quene Gweneuer\n deyed but halfe an houre afore/And the ladyes tolde syr\n Launcelot/that quene Gweneuer tolde them all or she passyd/that syr\n Launcelot had be preest nere a twelue month and hither he cometh as\n fast as he may/to fetche my corps. And besyde my lorde kyng\n Arthur/he shal bury me.\u2019\n \u2018Than syr Launcelot rose vp or it was day, and tolde the heremyte\n therof. It were well done sayd the heremyte that ye made you redy,\n and that ye dysobeye not thys aduysyon. The[=n]e syr Launcelot toke\n his .vii felawes with hym, & on foote they yede from Glastynbury to\n Almesbury, the whyche is lytyl more than xxx myle. And thyder they\n came wythin two dayes for they were weyke and feble to go. And whan\n syr Launcelot was come to Almesbury wythin the Nonnery, quene\n Gweneuer deyed but halfe an houre afore. And the ladyes tolde syre\n Launcelot that quene Gueneuer tolde them all or she passyd, that\n syr Launcelot had been preest nere a twelue moneth, and hither he\n cometh as faste as he may for to fetche my corps. And besyde my\n lorde kynge Arthur he shal burye me.\u2019\nThe last lines of the same Chapter are as follows:\u2014\n \u2018For whan I remembre of hir beaulte and of hir noblesse that was\n bothe with hyr king & with hyr/So whan I sawe his corps and hir\n corps so lye togyders/truly myn herte wold not serue to susteyne my\n careful body/Also whan I rem\u0113bre me how by my defaut & myn orgule\n and my pryde/that they were bothe layed ful lowe that were pereles\n that euer was lyuyng of cristen people, wyt you wel sayd syr\n Launcelot/this remembred of there kyndnes and myn vnkyndnes sanke\n so to myn herte that I mi\u021dt not susteyne myself so the frensshe\n book maketh mencyon.\u2019\n(Who follows Wynkyn de Worde exactly, except in the spelling, and in\nthe insertion of \u2018me\u2019 after \u2018wold not serue.\u2019)\n \u2018For whan I remembre _& calle to mynde_ her beaute, _bountee &_\n noblesse, that was _as wel_ wyth her kyng _my lord Arthur_ as wyth\n her. _And also_ whanne I saw _the corses of that noble kinge &\n noble quene_ so lye to gyder _in that colde graue made of erthe,\n that somtyme were so hyghly sette in moost honourable places_,\n truly myn herte wolde not serue _me_ to susteyne my _wretchyd &_\n carefull body. Also whan I remembre me how by my defawte myn\n orgulyte and my pride, that they were both layed full lowe whyche\n were pereles that euer were lyuenge of crysten peple, wyte yow wel\n sayd syr Launcelot, this remembred, of ther kyndnesse & _of_ myn\n vnkyndnesse, sanke _and enprest_ soo _in_ to my herte that _all my\n natural strengthe fayled me, so that_ I myghte not susteyne my\n selfe. Soo the frensshe boke makyth mencyon.\u2019\nThe several colophons are as follows:\u2014\n \u2018Thus endeth thys noble and Ioyous book entytled le morte\n Darthur/Notwithstondyng it treateth of the byrth/lyf/and actes of\n the sayd kynge Arthur/of his noble knyghtes of the rounde\n table/theyr meruayllous enquestes and aduentures/thachyeuyng of the\n sangreal/& in thende the dolourous deth & departyng out of thys\n world of them al/Whiche book was reduced in to englysshe by syr\n Thomas Malory knyght as afore is sayd/and by me deuyded in to xxi\n bookes chapytred and enprynted/and fynysshed in thabbey westmestre\n the last day of Iuyl the yere of our lord M/CCCC/lxxx/V/ Caxton me\n fieri fecit.\u2019/\n \u2018Thus endyth this noble and Ioyous boke entytled Le morte dathur.\n Notwythstondyng it treateth of the byrth lyf & actes of the sayd\n kynge Arthur of his noble knyghtes of the rounde table. theyr\n merueyllous enquestes & aduentures. thachyeuynge of the Sancgreall.\n And in the ende the dolorous deth. & depaytynge out of this worlde\n of them al. Whyche boke was reduced in to Englysshe by the well\n dysposyd knyghte afore namyd. And deuyde[d] into .xxi. bokes\n chapitred. & enprynt[ed] fyrst by Wylliam Caxton/on who[se] soule\n god haue mercy. And newel[ye] prynted. and chapitres of the sam[e\n ru-]brisshed at Westmestre, by Wynk[yn de] Worde y^e yere of our\n lord. M.C[CCC].lxxxxviij. and ended the .xxv [daye of] Marche. the\n same yere.\u2019\n \u2018Thus endeth this noble and joyous boke, entytled La morte\n d\u2019Arthur. Notwithstondyng it treateth of the byrth, lyf, and actes\n of the sayd Kynge Arthur, of his noble knyghts of the rounde table,\n theyr merueylous enquestes and aduentures, thacheuynge of the\n Sancgreal and in the ende the dolourous deth and depaytynge out of\n this worlde of them al; whyche boke was reduced into Englysshe by\n syr Thomas Malory, Knight, as afore is sayd, and by me devyded into\n xxi. bookes, chapitred and enprynted, and fynisshed in thabbey,\n Westmestre, the last day of Juyl, the yere of our Lord MCCCCLXXXV.\n Caxton me fieri fecit.\u2019\n \u2018The Byrth, Lyf, and Actes of Kyng Arthur; of his noble Knyghtes of\n the Rounde Table, theyr marvayllous Enquestes and Adventures; the\n Achyeviyng of the Sang real; and in the end le Morte d\u2019Arthur, with\n the dolourous Deth and Departyng out of thys world of them Al.\n Whiche Book was reduced to the Englysshe, by Syr Thomas Malory\n Knyght, and by me (_W. Caxton_) devyded into 21 bookes, chaptyred\n and emprynted, and fynyshed in th\u2019 Abbey Westmestre, the last day\n of July, the yere of our Lord 1485.\u2019\n \u2018Thus endeth this noble & joyous booke entytled _La_ Mort _dathur_.\n Notwythstanding it treateth of the byrth, lyf & actes of the sayd\n Kynge Arthur, _&_ of his noble knyghtes of the Rounde Table, theyr\n marueyllous Enquestes & aduentures, thacheyuyng of the _Sang real_,\n and in the ende _le Morte darthur with_ the dolourous deth and\n departyng out of thys worlde of them al. Whiche booke was reduced\n in to Englysshe by Syr Thomas Malory knyght _as afore is sayd_, and\n by me deuyded in to xxi bookes chaptyred and emprynted and\n fynysshed in thabbey Westmestre the last day of July the yere of\n our lord MCCCCLXXXV. _Caxton me fieri fecit._\u2019\nOn a comparison of these colophons we see that the article _La_ is only\nin Ames: the spelling of _dathur_ is peculiar to Wynkyn de Worde, who\nhas it also in another passage; the words _le Morte darthur with_ are\nin the Harleian Catalogue only: _as afore is said_ is in neither of\nthese, but it is in Ames: the peculiar mode of writing _Sang real_[47],\nand the spelling of _chaptyred_, _emprynted_, _July_, are those of the\nHarleian Catalogue: the _&_ introduced after _Arthur_ in the second\nline is only in Upcott. _Caxton me fieri fecit_ is in Ames, but not in\nthe Harleian Catalogue.\nWhen I say in Ames or the Harleian Catalogue only, it will be\nunderstood that I include with the colophon of the former its\nmodernised copy in Dibdin; and with that of the latter its copies in\nHerbert and the Biographia Britannica; the references to all which I\nhave given in the passage of the Introduction to which this is a Note.\nThe first words of the colophon are omitted in the Harleian Catalogue,\nwhich gives it as the title of the book, as do the Biographia\nBritannica and Herbert. The framer of the Catalogue probably quotes\ndirectly, though inaccurately, from the Harleian (now the Osterley)\nMorte Darthur: and Ames must have made his extract independently from\nthe same volume. Dibdin attributes both the Harleian Catalogue and the\narticle in the Biographia Britannica to Oldys.\nFootnote 1:\n \u2018A braver soldier never couched lance,\n A gentler heart did never sway in court.\u2019\nFootnote 2:\n _Le Morte Darthur_, edited from the Harleian MS. 2252, in the British\n Museum, by F. T. Furnivall, 1864.\nFootnote 3:\n The council of devils seems to have suggested that in _Paradise Lost_.\nFootnote 4:\n Geoffrey of Monmouth afterwards Bishop of St. Asaph wrote, or as he\n tells us, translated from a work in the British tongue his _Historiae\n Brithonum_ early in the 12th century.\nFootnote 5:\n Itinerary, ii. pp. 38, 39; Hearne, 1711.\nFootnote 6:\n Somersetshire Illustrated, by John Strachey, MS. 1736.\nFootnote 7:\n Polyolbion, 3rd Song.\nFootnote 8:\n Camelot: a Lecture delivered in 1889 by the Rev. J. H. Bennett. See\n also Proceedings of the Somersetshire Arch\u00e6ological Society, 1890.\nFootnote 9:\n _Gervasii Tilburiensis Otia Imperialia_, Decisio ii. cap. xii, de\n Insulis Mediterranei, in vol. I of \u2018Scriptores Rerum Brunsvicensium\n Illustrationi inservientes: Cura G. G. Leibnitzii, Hanov. MDCCVII.\u2019\n Gervase of Tilbury wrote about the beginning of the thirteenth\n century. He was at the Peace of Venice in 1177 A. D.; was Chancellor\n and Marshall of the kingdom of Arles about the year 1200; and died in\nFootnote 10:\n \u2018Renaissance in Italy,\u2019 by J. A. Symonds, iv. 17.\nFootnote 11:\n The passage, which also recounts the names of Ewaine, Gawaine, and\n Launcelot du Lac, is found in a charming episode in \u2018The Complaynt of\n Scotland\u2019 (written in 1548, and edited in 1801 by G. J. Leyden), in\n which the author tells how he went into the country to refresh his\n weary mind and body, and there fell in with a party of shepherds and\n shepherds\u2019 wives and servants, who amused themselves with telling a\n number of stories, classical and romantic, of which he gives the\n names. It is a prose idyll, which reminds us of the Canterbury Tales,\n and the Vision of Piers Plowman, in the love of nature and the love\n of story-telling which it displays. Here, and in the passage from\n Gervase, I quote from the originals; but my attention was first\n directed to these by Sir George Webb Dasent\u2019s quotations in his\n \u2018Popular Tales from the Norse,\u2019 p. xxix.\nFootnote 12:\n Roquefort, Glossaire de Langue Romane, art. \u2018Graal:\u2019 where are also\n given the original passages from the first three romances named in\n the text.\nFootnote 13:\n _Caffari Annales Genuenses_ in Muratori\u2019s _Italicarum Rerum\n Scriptores_, Tom. VI: Bent\u2019s _Genoa_; and Dunlop\u2019s _History of\n Fiction_, edited by H. Wilson, Vol. I, Supplementary Note on the\n Sangreal.\nFootnote 14:\n \u2018Pall Mall Gazette\u2019 of June 23, 1868.\nFootnote 15:\n \u2018The Schoolmaster,\u2019 by Roger Ascham; Book I. The Schoolmaster was\n published by his widow, in 1570.\nFootnote 16:\n \u2018Oh, may my lot grant such a friend who knows\n The art to crown with bays a poet\u2019s brows,\n If ever in the coming time my lay\n Our native kings shall call again to-day,\n Shall call up Arthur, even in worlds below\n Preparing wars against the heathen foe;\n Or tell of that great fellowship renown\u2019d\n The high-souled heroes of the Table Round,\n And break, if God his present aid affords,\n The Saxons\u2019 serried bands with British swords.\u2019\n It is curious to note that Milton with all his learning should, like\n Malory and Caxton, have spoken of the Britons as English, and the\n Saxons as foreigners\u2014a popular misuse of names which still makes the\n Lowland Scotch complain if they are called English instead of\n British, though they are in fact more English than the English in\n language and in blood.\nFootnote 17:\n \u2018There be 2 Lordshipps lyenge not very far from _Ripon_ ... _Malory_\n hath _Hutton Coniers_. Thes Lands cam to their Aunciters by two\n Dowghtars, Heirs generall of that _Coniers_. _Malory_ hath another\n place caullyd _Highe Studly_, a litle from Fountaines.\u2019 Leland\u2019s\n Itinerary, viii. 2. p. 55. Hearne, 1712.\nFootnote 18:\n These two dates are obligingly given me by G. W. Tomlinson, Esq.,\n Secretary of the Yorkshire Arch\u00e6ological Society.\nFootnote 19:\n Noble\u2019s Spanish Armada List, 1886, p. 42.\nFootnote 20:\n Brown\u2019s Genesis of the United States, 1890. Vol. I, p. 211; Vol. II,\nFootnote 21:\n Burton\u2019s Description of Leicestershire, pp. 140, 262.\nFootnote 22:\n Kirby\u2019s Register of the Wardens, Fellows, and Scholars of Winchester,\n 1888, quoted by Mr. L. Johnson in the Academy, September 20th, 1890.\nFootnote 23:\n Le Morte Darthur, edited by H. Oskar Sommer, Ph.D. Vol. III, p. 335.\nFootnote 24:\n \u2018The Biography and Typography of William Caxton, England\u2019s First\n Printer,\u2019 by William Blades, 8vo, 1877, p. 22. In this, and in his\n larger work, \u2018Life and Typography of William Caxton, England\u2019s First\n Printer,\u2019 2 vols. 4to, 1861-1863, Mr. Blades has given a very learned\n and complete history of Caxton and his times so far as they relate to\n him.\nFootnote 25:\n \u2018like a circle in the water,\n Which never ceaseth to enlarge itself\n Till by broad spreading it do reach the bank.\u2019\n See First part of King Henry VI, i. 2, and the Variorum notes thereon.\nFootnote 26:\n Englishmen, who feel shame and sorrow for the loss of the only\n perfect first copy of our National Epic, may yet be glad to know it\n has an honoured place with our worthier kinsfolk across the Atlantic,\n in the rich library and museum of Mr. and Mrs. Abby Pope:\n \u2018And, so sepulchred, in such pomp doth lie,\n That kings, for such a tomb, would wish to die.\u2019\nFootnote 27:\n Dibdin\u2019s Typographical Antiquities, 1810, vol. i, pp. 242, 254.\nFootnote 28:\n Dibdin\u2019s Supplement to the Bibliotheca Spenceriana, vol. ii. p. 213;\n or \u00c6des Althorpian\u00e6, vol. vi. p. 213. I would here express my thanks\n to Earl Spencer for sending to the British Museum for my use his\n Caxton, and his unique copy of Wynkyn de Worde\u2019s first edition of\n Morte Darthur, as also for favouring me with details of information\n respecting the former; and to the Earl of Jersey for permitting me to\n examine his Caxton at Osterley.\nFootnote 29:\n \u2018Caxton followed the usage of the scribes in this particular; for,\n with one exception only, and at the very end of his career, where the\n title of the book is printed alone in the centre of the first page,\n his books appear without any title page whatever. Wynkyn de Worde\n adopted the use of title-pages immediately after the death of his\n master.\u2019 Biography and Typography of William Caxton, England\u2019s first\n printer, p. 45. By William Blades, 1877.\nFootnote 30:\n As the passage is worth preserving I have given it at the end of the\n volume, Note A, p. 488.\nFootnote 31:\n Vol. i, p. xxviii.\nFootnote 32:\n Ibid. p. lviii.\nFootnote 33:\n The pages are vol. i, p. 167, line 18, to p. 169, line 17; p. 275,\n third line from bottom, to p. 279, line 5 from bottom; vol. ii, p.\nFootnote 34:\n An account of these interpolations was given by me in the Athen\u00e6um of\nFootnote 35:\n Typographical Antiquities, by Ames and Herbert, 1785, vol. i, p. 61;\n Ibid. enlarged by Dibdin, 1810, vol. i, p. 253. The \u2018Additions\u2019 are\n at the end of vol. iii. of Herbert\u2019s edition.\nFootnote 36:\n Catalogus Bibl. Harleian\u00e6, 1744, vol. iii, no. 372.\nFootnote 37:\n See note B at the end of the volume, p. 488.\nFootnote 38:\n Even the learned M.M. Gaston Paris and Ulrich, say, in reference to\n editions of Le Morte Darthur, \u2018La plus commode \u00e0 lire, parce que le\n langage y est discr\u00e8tement rajeuni, est l\u2019\u00e9dition donn\u00e9e chez\n Macmillan en 1868 par Sir Edw. Strachey.\u2019\nFootnote 39:\n Sybel\u2019s History of the Crusades, English Translation, p. 11.\nFootnote 40:\n For this distinction I am indebted to my friend the late Rev. F. D.\n Maurice, whose genius lights up every subject it approaches.\nFootnote 41:\n Valiant.\nFootnote 42:\n Having gone to find adventures in Prussia with the Teutonic knights\n who carried on war with the still Pagan Lithuania, he had been often\n placed at the head of the table above the like adventurers from other\n nations, in compliment to his especial merit.\nFootnote 43:\n Ridden in arms.\nFootnote 44:\n Praise.\nFootnote 45:\n It appears from Morte Arthur, p. 474, that London was the proper\n place to go to, \u2018to buy all manner of things that longed unto a\n wedding.\u2019\nFootnote 46:\n For facts my principal authorities\u2014whose words I have frequently\n availed myself of\u2014are Mills\u2019s History of Chivalry, which alone\n almost exhausts the subject; Gibbon\u2019s Decline and Fall of the Roman\n Empire; Godwin\u2019s Life of Chaucer; Scott\u2019s Essay on Chivalry; Lord\n Berner\u2019s Froissart; and Southey\u2019s Introduction to Amadis of Gaul.\nFootnote 47:\n The division of the word indicates that the writer adopts the\n plausible notion that Sangreal means Real (or Royal) Blood; and no\n doubt in ancient as well as modern times the spelling and sound would\n suggest this meaning: but Roquefort shows clearly that the other is\n the proper explanation, both in etymology and (so to speak)\n historically. And Helinand, a monk of Fromont (A.D. 717), gives the\n Latin _Gradale_, which supplies the link between _Graal_ and _Crater_\n from which Roquefort derives the former. Helinand\u2019s words are,\u2014\u2018Hoc\n tempore, in Britannia, cuidam eremitae monstrata est mirabilis\n quaedam visio per angelum de sancto Josepho decurione nobili qui\n corpus Domini deposuit de cruce, et de catino illo vel paropside in\n quo Dominus coenavit cum discipulis suis; de qua ab eodem eremita\n descripta est historia quae dicitur _de Gradal_. _Gradalis_ autem vel\n _Gradale_ dicitur Gallic\u00e8 scutella lata et aliquantulum profunda in\n qua pretiosae dapes, cum suo jure, divitibus solent apponi, et\n dicitur nomine _Graal_.... Hanc historiam latine scriptam invenire\n non potui, sed tantum Gallic\u00e8 scripta habetur a quibusdam proceribus,\n nec facile ut aiunt tota inveniri potest.\u2019 Helinandi Historia, quoted\n in L\u2019Essai Historique et Literaire sur l\u2019Abbaye de F\u00e9camp par Leroux\n de Lincy, Rouen, 1840.\nwith new meanings. Those proper names which in the text are spelt in\nmore than one way, or have different epithets, are repeated in each of\nsuch forms, but without cross references. These have not been thought\nnecessary, as their absence can hardly lead to mistake as to the\nidentity of the names.\n Abbey of La Beale Adventure, 77.\n Abblasoure, place of, 359.\n Abelleus, 71.\n Ablamor of the Marsh, 68.\n Accolon of Gaul, Sir, 57;\n hunts with Arthur, 79;\n finds himself by a deep well, 80;\n gets Excalibur and nearly kills Arthur, 82;\n Adder stings and produces a war, 478.\n Adtherp, Sir, 186, 187.\n Affrike, 100.\n Africa, 108.\n Agente, earldom of, 469.\n Aglavale, Sir, 259.\n marries, 160;\n is open mouthed, 412;\n accuses Sir Launcelot and Guenever, 451;\n tries to capture Sir Launcelot and is slain, 454.\n Aguarus, 373.\n Agwisance of Ireland, king, 35, 36, 152, 154.\n Alakuke, lord, 104.\n Albans, St., 28.\n Alexander, 108.\n Alexandria, 108.\n Alice La Beale Pilgrim, 273.\n Aligement, alleviation, 390.\n Alis le Beale Pilgrim, dame, 455.\n Alisander the mighty conqueror, 467.\n Alisandrie, country of, 100.\n Allardin of the Isles, 67.\n Allegiance, alleviation, 43.\n Allein, 246.\n Allhallowmas, 29, 33.\n Almerie, cupboard, 411.\n Almesbury, 481, 484. See Introduction, p. xviii.\n Alphegus, Sir, 446.\n Alther, of us all, 84.\n Ambage, country of, 100.\n Ambler, 263.\n Andret, Sir, 174.\n Andrew, Sir, 232.\n Anglides (prince Boudwin\u2019s wife), 267.\n Anguish of Scotland, king, 99.\n Anguissance of Ireland, king, 448.\n Anjou, duke of, 469.\n Annecians, 40.\n Annowre (a sorceress), 209.\n Ansirus, duke (the pilgrim), 273.\n Antemes, 41.\n Anwick, 486.\n Arabe, mount of, 103.\n Arabie, 100.\n Arbray, castle of, 283.\n Archade, 277.\n Archbishop of Canterbury, 28, 30.\n Aretted, reckoned, 1.\n Arguis, Sir, 264.\n Argustus, 377.\n Aries (the cowherd), 65.\n Aries le Vaysher, 248.\n Aristance, Sir, 282.\n Aristause, earl, 448.\n Arminak, earl of, 469.\n Arnold de Breusse, 139, 149.\n Arnold, Sir, 152.\n Arrage, country of, 100.\n Arrok de Grevant, Sir, 449.\n Arrouse, earl, 277.\n Arroy, country and forest of, 89.\n Arthur is born, 27;\n pulls the sword out of the stone, 29;\n made king, 30;\n fights, 32;\n falls in love, 41;\n first sees Guenever, 41;\n dreams a dream, 42;\n wants the quest, 43;\n is made known to Igraine, 44;\n fights, 46;\n gets a sword, 47;\n fights Nero, 56;\n loves Guenever, 64;\n marries, 66;\n is warned by Merlin to keep his sword and scabbard, 75;\n fights with five kings, 77;\n rides his horse to death, 79;\n finds himself in prison, 79;\n fights Sir Accolon, and is nearly killed, 81;\n goes to an abbey and recovers, 84;\n follows his sister for the scabbard, 86;\n Roman Emperor sends to him for tribute, 98;\n his splendour, 100;\n ordains two governors to act while he goes to war with the Emperor\n dreams of an encounter between a boar and a dragon, _ib._;\n giant crushes his ribs, 103;\n embraces his knights after battle, 105;\n crowned at Rome by the Pope, 110;\n holds a tournament at Avilion, 152;\n justs with Sir Lamorak, 208;\n cuts off the head of the Lady, 210;\n fights Sir Tristram, 238;\n cries a just, 286;\n is at Lonazep, 303;\n justs with Sir Dinadan, 305;\n visits Sir Tristram, 315;\n Sir Launcelot returns to him, 344;\n sees marvels, 350;\n glad to see the remnant of his knights, 411;\n holds a tourney at Winchester, 420;\n hears the charge against Guenever, 452;\n lays siege to Joyous Gard, 461;\n goes to war with Sir Launcelot, 470;\n his life is war and strife, 475;\n returns to Dover and fights, 476;\n has a dream, 477;\n kills Sir Mordred, 479;\n received by three queens in a barge, 480.\n Arundel, castle of, 268.\n Assoil, absolve, 365.\n Assotted, besotted, doting, 75, 274.\n Astamore, Sir, 448, 452.\n Astlabor, king, 318, 320.\n Astolat (town of Gilford), 419.\n Astomore, Sir, 413.\n Astonied, stunned, 117, 123.\n Attaint, fatigued, exhausted, 384.\n Avail, lower, 110.\n Avaunt, boast, 447.\n Avelion, Avelon, the Isle of Apples, on which Glastonbury stood, 49.\n Aventer, couch spear, 62.\n Avilion, Isle of, 151, 152;\n Avoid quit leave, 103.\n Awk, backward, 182.\n Babylon, 410.\n Bachelors, knights, 37.\n nearly killed, 355;\n is slain, 62.\n slays Garlon, 59;\n is slain, 62;\n Bamborow, 486.\n Bandes, king, 279.\n Baptism, 280.\n Barant le Apres, Sir, called king with the hundred knights, 448.\n Barbers, 107.\n Barbican, 103;\n an outwork to defend the gate of a castle, 156.\n Barflete (in Flanders), 101.\n Barget, a little barge, 431.\n Barham Down, near Canterbury, 477.\n Mr. Wright says it is the site of an Anglo-Saxon cemetery, which,\n no doubt, suggested that a battle had been fought there.\n Baronage, 265.\n Basdemegus, 57.\n Battle, 264.\n Battles, armies, battalions, 105, 265.\n Baudwin of Britain, Sir, 30, 31, 101;\n is a surgeon, 423;\n Bayonne, 469.\n Beale Isould, 101.\n Beale-Valet, castle of, 262.\n Beame, trumpet, 478.\n Bearn, earl of, 469.\n Beaumains (Fair-hands), 129;\n is called a kitchen-boy, 135;\n beats the red knight of the red lawns, 143;\n Beaume (Bayonne), 469.\n Bedegraine, forest of, 34;\n castle of, 35;\n battle of, 42.\n throws Excalibur into the water, 480;\n finds where Arthur is buried, 481;\n meets with Sir Launcelot, 484;\n is an hermit, 487.\n Bee, ring, bracelet, or other ornament, 159.\n Behest, promise, 209.\n Behight, promise, 411.\n Behote, promise, 168.\n Belias le Orgulous, Sir, is slain, 459.\n Belinus, king of Britain, 99.\n Bellangere (a constable), 268.\n Bellangere le Orgulous, Sir, 449.\n Bellaus, 40.\n Belleus, Sir, 115;\n wounded by Launcelot, 115;\n Belliance le Orgulous, Sir, 198.\n Bellias of Flanders, 37.\n Bendelaine, Sir, 157.\n Benoye, country of, 274, 343.\n Benwick,\n some call it Bayonne, 469;\n Berel, Sir, 104.\n Berluse, Sir, 247.\n Bernard of Astolat, Sir, 419, 420, 429.\n Berrant le Apres, king, 295.\n Bersules, Sir, 245, 251.\n Bertelot, Sir, 338.\n Bery, apparently meant for Bere, bier, or bear, 385.\n Besaunt, a gold coin first coined at Byzantium, 95, 481.\n Beseen, adorned, clothed, 51.\n Bestad, Bested, beset, 476.\n Betaught, recommended, 359.\n Betid, happened, was; or, beat, 141, 332.\n Bishop, the first, 407.\n Black, all, 133.\n made a duke, 469;\n Bleise, 41.\n made a duke, 469;\n Bliant, Sir, 338;\n castle of, 341.\n Bloias de la Flandres, 37.\n Blois de la Case, 40.\n Board, deck, 370.\n Bobart le Cure Hardy, Sir, Arthur\u2019s son, 449.\n Bole, trunk of a tree, 126.\n Book, swear upon a, 230, 259.\n Boot, help, 162.\n Borre, 41.\n sees a dragon, 330;\n joins in the quest, 383;\n has his adventures chronicled, 411;\n finds Sir Launcelot ill, 427;\n is crowned, 469;\n Bors of Gaul, king, 32, 38, 41.\n Boudwin, Sir, 267.\n Brabant, 107.\n Brachet, a small scenting dog, 66, 70, 79, 123, 165, 215.\n Braid, hastiness, 472.\n Brandegore, king, 343.\n Brandegoris of Stranggore, king, 35, 56.\n Brandel, Sir, 118.\n Brasias, Sir, 413;\n Brast, brake, 117.\n Brawn, muscular part of the hand, palm, 443.\n Brenius, king of Britain, 99.\n Breunor, Sir, 181.\n Brewnor le Noire, Sir, 129, 197;\n is La Cote Male Taile, 205.\n Brian de Listinoise, Sir, 118, 448.\n Brian of the Forest, 67.\n Briant, 37.\n Briant de la Forest Savage, 40.\n Briant of North Wales, Sir, 222.\n Bridge, of iron and steel, 63.\n Brim, furious, 464.\n Britain, 106;\n people Christianized, _ib._\n Britany, country of, 102;\n duchess of, _ib._, 151;\n Britons, 38;\n full of pride and boast, 103;\n Broche, split, pierce, 39.\n Bromel la Pleche, Sir, 328.\n Browis, broth, pottage, 129.\n Bruin, le Noire, Sir, 448.\n Bulls from the Pope, 464.\n Bur, an iron ring on the spear, to prevent the hand slipping, 479.\n Burbling, bubbling, 240.\n Burgen, bud, blossom, 451.\n Bushment, surprise party (embushment, 34), 103, 110.\n Cador of Cornwall, Sir, 99, 104.\n Calabre, country of, 100.\n Caliburn (one of the strongest of Pavie), 104.\n Calidone, 393.\n Cambenet, duke of, 35, 38.\n Cambines, duke, 282.\n Cameliard, country of, 41, 64, 270.\n Candlemas, 30.\n Canterbury, bishop of, 65;\n Mordred crowned here, 474;\n bishop of, defies Mordred, 475;\n buries Arthur, 481;\n bishop of, 484;\n Capadoce, country of, 100.\n Carados of Scotland, king, 448.\n Car de Gomeret, 270.\n Cardican, castle of, 335.\n Cardiff, captain of, 107;\n take ship at, 469;\n Cardoile, 76.\n Cardoile, the Anglo-Norman form of Carlisle, 76.\n See Introduction, p. xv.\n Cardok, Sir, 448.\n Cardol, 33.\n Carrack, ship, 476.\n Carteloise, castle of, 397.\n Case, castle of, 327.\n Cast, a portion or set of loaves baked together, 140.\n Castle Blank, 338.\n Castor, Sir, 340.\n Cateland, country of, 100.\n Caulas, 40.\n Caxton\u2019s preface, 1.\n Cered, waxed, 485.\n Chafe, heat, 106.\n Chaflet, platform, 477.\n Chaleins of Clarance, duke, 277, 281, 434, 448.\n Champayne, 103.\n Chariot, castle, 113.\n Chestelaine, Sir, 109.\n Child, squire, or young knight, 109, 392.\n Chivalry, flower of, 76.\n Christ, Lord Jesus, 60, 352, 394.\n Christmas, 28.\n Churl, peasant, boor, 120.\n Clariance de la Forest Savage, 36.\n Clariance of Northumberland, king, 35, 36, 448.\n Clarisin, the countess, 110.\n Claudine, 409.\n Clegis of Sadok, Sir, 455, 469.\n Cleped, called, 409.\n Cleremond, Sir, 107.\n Cloddrus, Sir, 448.\n Cloth of gold, 33.\n Coasted, kept at the side, in a parallel course, 433.\n Cogge, cock, i.e. cock-boat, 101.\n Cognisance, badge, mark of distinction, 241, 302.\n Colgrevaunce de Gorre, Sir, 40.\n Collibe, sea of, 392.\n Cologne, 100.\n Comange, earl of, 469.\n Commonalty, 228.\n children of, 102.\n Constantine, son of queen Heleine, 99;\n country of, 102.\n Constantine, Sir (Sir Cador\u2019s son).\n Arthur wishes him to be his heir, 101, 448;\n was chosen king after Arthur, 487.\n Corbin,\n bridge of, 326;\n Corneus, duke, 33.\n Coronation, 30.\n Corsabrin, Sir, 279.\n Courtelage, court-yard, or garden, 94, 121, 379.\n Covin, deceit, plot, 360.\n Cradelmas, king, 35, 37.\n Cradelment of North Wales, king, 37.\n Croft, vault, 406.\n Crosselme, Sir, 448.\n Curselaine, Sir, 452.\n Cyprus, 100.\n Daffish, foolish, 236.\n Dagonet, Sir (Arthur\u2019s fool), 199, 212, 249, 256.\n Damaske, country of, 100.\n Damiete, 100.\n Daname, Sir, 230.\n Debate, strife, 459.\n Debonair, courteous, 394.\n Defoil, trample under foot, overcome, 200.\n Degrane, Sance Vilany, Sir, 449.\n Delectable Isle, 297.\n Deliverly, actively, 473.\n Denmark, king of, 76, 357.\n Depart, part, 483.\n De Vance, lady, 55.\n Devise, look carefully at, 402.\n Devoir, knightly duty, 149, 469.\n Diamond, justed for daily, 432.\n Dight, dressed, 79.\n forced into woman\u2019s garment, 282;\n best jester, 290;\n Dinant, Sir, 214.\n rises against king Mark, 284;\n Disworship, disgrace, 67.\n Dole, grief, 45.\n Dolphine, 108.\n Dornar, Sir, 259.\n Dornard, Sir, 281.\n Dragon (description of), 101;\n spitting fire, 326.\n Draughts, apparently recesses parted off from the main room, 442.\n Dress, turn towards, address, 402.\n Dromon, a vessel of war, 101.\n Duresse, bondage, 357.\n Durnore, Sir, 448.\n Dutchmen, duke of, 109.\n Dwarf, attendant, 53, 69, 80, 90.\n Dwine, dwindle, 485.\n Easter, 30.\n Eastland, queen of, 113.\n Ector, Sir,\n takes charge of the infant Arthur, 27;\n is healed by the Sancgreal, 337;\n is crowned, 469;\n finds Sir Launcelot dead, 486.\n Edward of Carnarvan, Sir, 448.\n Edward of Orkney, Sir, 304, 449.\n Edward of the Red Castle, Sir, 96.\n Edward the Fourth, 487.\n Eft, again, 480.\n Eftures, passages, 444.\n Egglame, 47.\n Elaine (king Ban\u2019s wife), 75.\n Elaine (king Nentres\u2019 wife), 27.\n Elaine (king Pelles\u2019 daughter), 327;\n sees Sir Launcelot mad, 340;\n Elaine le Blank, 420;\n seeks Sir Launcelot, 425;\n dies for Sir Launcelot and is put in a barget, 431;\n the letter is taken from her dead hand, 432.\n Elamie, country of, 100.\n Eleine, slew herself, 74.\n Elian le Blank, 382.\n Elias, Sir (a captain), 263, 264;\n fights Sir Tristram, 266.\n Elias de Gomeret, 270.\n Eliot (an harper), 263, 267.\n Elis la Noire, 277.\n Elise, Sir, 279.\n Elizabeth, queen, 161, 165.\n Emerause, 40.\n Enchafe, heat, 372.\n Enchantress, 327.\n Eneled, anointed (with extreme unction), 486.\n writs sent, 461;\n Englishmen, 475.\n Epinegris, 289.\n Erminide, Sir, 449.\n Erst, before, 254.\n Ertaine, country of, 100.\n Ertanax (a fish), 393.\n Estorause, king, 409.\n Estrake, earl of, 469.\n Estsex, Essex, 477.\n Ethelwold, Sir, 109.\n Ethiope, king of, 106.\n Eufrates, flood of, 393.\n Euphrates, river of, 100.\n Europe, 100.\n Eustace of Cambenet, duke, 36.\n Evangelists, 26, 74, 399.\n Ewaine le Blanchemains, Sir, 27, 57.\n Excalibur (Cut-steel), 32, 51, 57;\n sent to Sir Accolon, 80;\n is thrown into the water, 479.\n Faramon of France, king, 165.\n Feldenak, Sir, 104.\n Felelolie, dame, 447, 450.\n Felot of Langduk, Sir, 70.\n Felot of Listinoise, Sir, 96.\n Ferant of Spain, Sir, 109.\n Fergus, earl, 95, 212.\n Fewter, put spear in the rest, 107.\n Fiend, comes out of a tomb, 357, 369;\n chief one, 372.\n Fig tree cursed by our Lord, 365.\n Flacket, flask, 181.\n Flannedrius, 40.\n Floridas, Sir, 109, 110.\n Floris, Sir, 110.\n Foining, push in fencing, 131, 136, 142.\n Foise, earl of, 469.\n Fordo, undo, 74.\n Forthdays, late in the day, 455.\n Forthink, grieve, 379;\n repent, 74.\n Foster, forester, 381.\n Four Stones, castle of, 53.\n marshal of, 103;\n Frol of the Out Isles, Sir, 195.\n Gad, spike or knob of iron or steel, 373.\n Gahalantine, Sir, 448;\n made a duke, 469;\n Gainest, readiest, 145.\n Gainus, Sir, 103.\n Galacie, country of, 100.\n Galagars, Sir, chosen a knight of the Table Round, 78.\n is made a knight, 349;\n sits in the siege perilous, 350;\n his lineage, 352;\n takes the white shield, 355;\n attacks the Castle of Maidens, 360;\n strikes down his father, 362;\n meets Sir Launcelot on board ship, 402;\n goes in quest of the Sancgreal, 402;\n Galahalt, Sir, 257, 274;\n hates fish, 281;\n of the Long Isles, 293;\n Galahault, Sir, 152.\n Galapas (a giant), 105.\n Galardoun, 241.\n Galatine (Sir Gawaine\u2019s good sword), 104, 107.\n is made a duke, 469;\n made an earl, 469;\n Galind, Sir, 118.\n Galiodin, 230.\n Galleron of Galway, Sir, 246, 421, 448.\n Ganis, abbey and castle of, 231.\n Garaunt, 270.\n Gareth of Orkney, Sir (Beaumains), 42;\n smites down thirty knights, 435;\n Garlon, 58.\n Garlot, land of, 27.\n Garnish of the Mount, 60.\n Gaunter, Sir, 122, 152.\n Gautere, Sir, 448;\n Gawaine, Sir, 27, 35.\n Gawaine, Sir, (Arthur\u2019s nephew), 42, 56, 58, 63;\n Arthur promises to make him a knight, 65;\n follows the hart, 67;\n kills a lady, 69;\n chosen a knight of the Table Round, 78;\n fights Sir Marhaus, 88;\n smites off Sir Gainus\u2019 head, 103;\n fights with Sir Priamus, 108;\n is beaten by Sir Lamorak, 258;\n tries to pull the sword out, 350;\n takes up the quest of the holy Graile, 353;\n asks Arthur not to be hasty in burning Guenever, 457;\n loses his brothers, 460;\n will not forgive Sir Launcelot, 467;\n writes to Sir Launcelot, and dies, 476.\n Gawdelin, Sir, 334.\n Genoese warriors, 100.\n Gerfalcon, the finest kind of hawk, 96.\n Gerin, Sir, 280.\n Gerine le Grose, 272.\n Germany, 106.\n Gest, deed, story, 123.\n Gherard, Sir, 109.\n Gherard de Breusse, 139, 149.\n Giant of St. Michael\u2019s Mount; sits at supper gnawing a man\u2019s limbs,\n twelve children are being broached on spits, 102;\n is killed by Arthur, 103.\n Gilbert, Sir, 124, 125.\n Gilford, 419.\n Gillemere, Sir, 448;\n Gilmere, Sir, 122.\n Gisarm, two-edged battle-axe, 96.\n Glaive, a long blade at the end of a lance, a sword, 70.\n Glasting, 287. See Questing.\n Glastonbury, 475, 481, 484. See Introduction, p. xviii.\n Glatisant (the questing beast), 207, 250, 256, 286, 299;\n is followed by Sir Palamides, 348.\n Gobbets, lumps, 148.\n Godard, garrison of, 108.\n Godelake, Sir, 152.\n Goneries, Sir, 275.\n Goodewin, Sir, 334.\n Goothe, castle of, 366.\n Graale, holy, 327;\n its entrance into the hall, 352;\n See Sangreal.\n Gracian, 34.\n Graciens le Castlein, 40.\n Gramercy (written Grant mercy, 418);\n great thanks, 71.\n Grastian, 34.\n Gratian, 41.\n Gree, degree, prize, 220.\n Greece, Hart of, a fat deer, 323.\n Greece, 100.\n Griflet, Sir, 33, 36.\n Griflet, le Fise de Dieu, Sir, 40, 45, 76;\n is chosen a knight of the Table Round, 78;\n Grip, earl, 191.\n Gromere, Sir, 448.\n Gromore Somir Joure, Sir, 452.\n Grummore Grummursum, Sir, 152.\n Guenever, 41, 64;\n is married, 66;\n goes with Arthur to battle, 76;\n left in care of two governors by Arthur, 101;\n meets Arthur at Sandwich, 111;\n falls with laughter, 282;\n is angry with Sir Launcelot, 332;\n spends \u00a320,000 to find Sir Launcelot, 344;\n sorrows over the separation of the Round Table Knights, 353;\n complains to Sir Launcelot, 412;\n is suspected of poisoning, 413;\n the trial, 416;\n was a true lover, 437;\n goes a-Maying, 437;\n is captured, 438;\n rescued by Sir Launcelot, 441;\n sees Sir Launcelot at night, 443;\n wants her accuser killed, 446;\n is watched, 450;\n led out for judgment, 458;\n rescued by Sir Launcelot, 459;\n is given back to Arthur, 468;\n Sir Mordred tries to wed her, 474;\n makes herself a nun, 481;\n is found by Sir Launcelot in a nunnery, 483;\n dies and is buried, 485.\n Guerdonless, without reward, 323.\n Guiart le Petite, Sir, 448.\n Guienne, king of, 469.\n Gumret le Petit, 169.\n Guynas de Bloy, 40.\n Gwenbaus, 34.\n Gwimiart de Bloi, 36.\n Gwinas, Sir, 37.\n Haberjon, see Hauberk. When the \u2018chausses\u2019 or mail leggings were\n united with the Hauberk the whole was called an Haberjon, 385.\n Hair, hair-shirt, 373.\n Hale and how! pull ho! the cry of sailors, 141.\n Halp, Holp, helped, 95.\n Halse, embrace, 178.\n Handfast, betrothed, 272.\n Handsel, payment, earnest-money, 174.\n Hard Rock, castle of, 235.\n Harlon, king, 377.\n Harness, armour, 111.\n Harnessed, furnished, set, 189.\n Harry le Fise Lake, Sir, 287, 449, 455.\n Harsouse le Berbuse, 273.\n Harvis de les Marches, 273.\n Hauberk, coat or frock of mail, made of plates or chain-links sewn\n upon leather, 39.\n Haut, high, noble, 183.\n Hebes le Renoumes, Sir, 169, 448, 455, 469.\n Hectimere, Sir, 448.\n Helake, Sir, 299.\n Heleine, queen, 99.\n Helin le Blank, 343, 344.\n Helior le Preuse, Sir, 319.\n Helius, Sir, murders King Hermance, 297, 299.\n Hellaine le Blank, Sir, 448.\n Hellawes (the sorceress), 125.\n Hellias le Grose, 375.\n Hemison, Sir, 236;\n Herawd, lord, 104.\n Herb, holy, 78.\n Heringdale, lord, 104.\n Herlews le Berbeus, 58.\n Hermance of the Red City, king, 294, 297, 449.\n Hermel, duke, 60.\n Hermind, Sir, 298;\n Hermits, who they were, 424.\n Hermonil, country of, 100.\n Hernox, earl, 398.\n Hervin, 388.\n Hervis de Revel, Sir, 56;\n chosen a knight of the Table Round, 78.\n Hervise de la Forest Savage, Sir, 449.\n Hew de la Montaine, 222.\n Hewgon, Sir, 273.\n Hight, was called, 25.\n Ho! halt! the word for stopping a tournament, 40, 278.\n Holt, a hill with a grove on it, 480.\n The \u2018two holts hoar\u2019 are described as \u2018two cliffs,\u2019 484;\n Hontzlake of Wentland, 72.\n Houselled, To be, to receive the sacrament, 260.\n Hove, hover, stand, 97.\n Howell, Sir, Duke of Brittany (Arthur\u2019s cousin), 102, 162, 191, 195,\n Hue of the Red Castle, Sir, 96.\n Hungary, land of, 446.\n Huntress, shoots Sir Launcelot, 433, 436.\n Hurlame, king, 393.\n Hurtle, dash, 138.\n Ider, Sir, 99.\n Idres of Cornwall, king, 35, 36, 38, 42.\n Idrus, Sir, 104.\n Inde, dark blue, 38, 137.\n Intermeddle, intermix, 404.\n king accused of treason, 177;\n Ironside, Sir (the red knight of the red lawns), 149, 151;\n is made a knight of the Table Round, 160;\n Isle of Longtainse, king of the, 76.\n Isoud la Blanche Mains, 191, 194, 237.\n Israel, people of, 402.\n Jagent, castle of, 246.\n Jesseraunt, a sort of cuirass, of back and breast plates, 31.\n Jesus, 28.\n Jordanus, Sir, 26, (Jordans) 27.\n Joshua, duke, 108, 396.\n Journey, day\u2019s work, 268.\n Guenever is taken to, 459;\n is besieged, 461;\n now Dolorous Gard, 468;\n some say it was Anwick, and some Bamborow, 486.\n See Introduction, p. xviii.\n Joyous Isle, 342.\n Jubance (a giant), 109.\n Judgment, alike for rich and poor, 416.\n Julius Cesar, 98.\n Kainus le Strange, Sir, 315.\n kills two kings, 77;\n is chosen a knight of the Table Round, 78;\n smites off the giant\u2019s head, 103;\n life saved by Sir Launcelot, 121;\n Kay de Stranges, Sir, 448;\n Kehydius, Sir (king Howel\u2019s son), 191, 192, 194, 205, 211.\n Kink-Kenadon, castle of, 128, 159.\n Knight (how made), 65;\n errant, 84;\n loses Sir Tristram, 283;\n leaves her husband, 285;\n jokes Sir Dinadan, 290;\n calls Sir Palamides a felon, 314;\n La Beale Regard, castle of, 272.\n La Cote Male Taile, 129, 152, 154;\n the evil-shapen coat, 197;\n marries, 205;\n Labor, king, 393.\n Ladinas, 34.\n Ladinas de la Rouse, 40.\n Ladinas of the Forest Savage, Sir, 438.\n Ladyday, 269.\n Lake, king of the, 78.\n Lake, lady of the, 47, 51;\n buried, 52;\n Lambaile, earl of, 282, 448.\n Lambeth, 440.\n Lamerake of Wales, 47.\n Lamiel of Cardiff, Sir, 449.\n fights Sir Palamides, 256;\n how he was murdered, 293;\n Landes, earl of the, 469.\n Langedok, duke of, 469.\n Lardans, 37.\n Largesse, bounty, 308.\n Laton, a mixed metal, like brass, 57.\n is the first knight, 111;\n seeks Sir Lionel, 116;\n fights Sir Turquine, 117;\n slays two giants, 120;\n overthrows four knights, 123;\n climbs a tree for a falcon, 126;\n justs with Sir Tristram, 227;\n fetches king Mark, 252;\n justs with Sir Tristram, 305;\n is pulled from his horse, 316;\n sees Elaine 327;\n ran mad two years, 332;\n healed by Sancgreal, 340;\n returns to Arthur\u2019s court, 344;\n not the best knight, 352;\n his lineage, 352;\n is felled by his son, 362;\n hindered by his sin from doing holy things, 363;\n seeks the adventures of the Sancgreal, 374;\n meets his son on board ship, 402;\n is forbidden the court by Guenever, 412;\n fights for the queen, 417;\n watched day and night by Elaine, 426;\n is like a corpse, 428;\n buries Elaine, and is in the queen\u2019s favour again, 432;\n smites down fifty knights, 435;\n goes to Guenever\u2019s relief, 440;\n falls into a trap, 444;\n slays Sir Meliagrance, 446;\n heals Sir Urre, 450;\n found in the queen\u2019s chamber, 453;\n fights against Arthur and takes his queen, 459;\n is besieged, 461;\n pleads his cause before Arthur, 465;\n goes to France, and rewards his fellowship, 469;\n fights with Sir Gawaine, 473;\n returns to England, and finds Guenever in a nunnery, 482;\n buries Guenever, and why he faints, 485;\n his character, 486;\n is buried, 487.\n Laurel, dame, 160.\n Lavaine, Sir, 420, 430;\n smites Arthur to the earth, 435;\n made a knight of the Table Round, 450;\n Lawn, an open space in a forest, 90.\n Lay, a song, 263.\n Lazar-cote, a hut for keeping lepers in, 190.\n Le Chevaler du Chariot, 442, 450.\n Le Chevaler Mal Fet, 341, 344.\n Leach, physician, surgeon, 45, 283, 400.\n Leodegrance of Cameliard, king, 41, 42, 64.\n Leomie, Sir (king), 105.\n Lesses les aler, herald\u2019s cry, 445.\n Let to, hinder from, 476.\n Letters, 32.\n Lever, rather, 102.\n Lianour, duke, 360.\n Libbard, leopard, 207.\n Lief, dear, 480.\n Lile of Avelion, 49, 52.\n Limosin, duke of, 469.\n marries Sir Gaheris, 160.\n said to be dead, 385;\n rides over Sir Bors, 388;\n cloud separates, 390;\n is crowned, 469;\n marries Sir Gareth, 160.\n Liones,\n country of, 162;\n castle of, 283.\n Liones, sometimes said to be a supposed tract of country called\n Lionesse, between the Land\u2019s End and the Scilly Isles, now\n submerged. But more probably St. Pol de Leon in Brittany is meant.\n Lionors, 41.\n Lionses of Payarne, 41.\n Lisais, 375.\n Listinoise, country of, 286;\n Little Britain, king of, 99;\n Loegria, Saxon Britain.\n Lombardy,\n warriors of, 100;\n Lonazep, castle of, 286, 293, 301.\n Arthur returns to, 424;\n tower of, besieged, 475, 477.\n Longius, 60.\n Loraine, 107;\n Loraine le Savage, 74.\n Lords, 30.\n Lot,\n king of Lothian and of Orkney, 27;\n Loth, hateful, 179.\n Lotless, without a share, 242.\n Love, as it is and was, 437.\n Lowe, hillock or tumulus, 449.\n Lubber, clumsy fellow, 132.\n Luca the botteler, Sir, 448, 470, 478;\n Lucan (the butler), Sir, 230, 435.\n Lucanere de Buttelere, Sir, 310, 421.\n Lucius, emperor,\n sends to Arthur for truage, 98;\n goes to war with Arthur, 103;\n is killed by Arthur, 106.\n Lyly, king of, 104.\n Maccab\u00e6us, 108.\n Macedone, 100.\n Madok de la Montaine, Sir, 222.\n accuses the queen of poisoning, 414;\n fights with Sir Launcelot, 417;\n Magons, traitors of, 283.\n Magouns, castle of, 268.\n Maker, author, poet, 487.\n Mal-ease, bad plight, 196.\n Maledisant, damsel, 199;\n called Bienpensant, 203;\n called Beauvivante, 205.\n Malegrine, Sir, 152.\n Mal-engine, evil design, 416.\n Maleore, Sir Thomas, 487.\n Malgrine, Sir, 153, 270.\n Manassen, 86.\n Mantle, richest (burns the wearer), 87.\n Manuel, 375.\n Marches, 42.\n Margawse, 27.\n Marhalt, king of Ireland, 302.\n Marhaus, Sir, 88;\n fights the duke and his six sons, 95;\n kills the giant Taulurd, 96;\n is killed, 98;\n is beaten by Sir Tristram, 166;\n Mariet de la Roche, 40.\n runs away, 249;\n is called king Fox, 262;\n murders his brother, 268;\n plans Sir Tristram\u2019s death, 283;\n is put in prison, 285;\n Marsil, king, 277.\n Masauke, earl of, 469.\n Mass-penny, sum of money offered, 432.\n Masteries, 129.\n Matchcold, having holes within the parapet of the walls for pouring\n stones or molten lead through, 135.\n Matto le Breune, Sir, 213.\n Maugre, in spite of, 72;\n misfortune, 461.\n Maurel, Sir, 105.\n May,\n when every lusty heart blossoms, 437;\n May-day, 48.\n Measle, disease, 400.\n Meddle, mix, 294.\n Meleaus, de Lile, Sir, 449.\n Meliaganus, Sir, 152.\n Meliagaunce, Sir (Bagdemagus\u2019s son), 207, 275;\n loves Guenever, 438;\n fights for her, 439;\n accuses her of treason, 443.\n Meliagrance, Sir, is smitten by Sir Launcelot, 446.\n Meliganus, 154.\n Meliodas, king of Liones, 161, 165, 172.\n Melion de Tartare, Sir, 333.\n Melion of the mountain, Sir, 448, 452.\n Meliot, castle of, 57.\n Meliot of Logurs, Sir, 73.\n Melot de la Roche, 36.\n Menaduke, Sir, 448, 455;\n made an earl, 469.\n Meniver, 338.\n Merlin, 26;\n met by Ulfius, _ib._;\n sees Uther, _ib._, 27;\n comes to Carlion, 31;\n deceives king Lot, 56;\n warns Arthur of Guenever, 64;\n falls in a dotage on Nimue, 75;\n a devil\u2019s son, _ib._;\n is found under a stone, 78;\n made the Round Table in tokening of the roundness of the world, 366.\n Mickle, much, 26.\n Minster, 349.\n Minstrel, 267.\n Miscreant, misbeliever, 487.\n Moises land, marquis of, 109.\n Mondrames, 356.\n Mordrains, king, 394, 406.\n takes Arthur sad news, 457;\n will make trouble, 469;\n has the rule of Arthur\u2019s land, 470;\n usurps England, and tries to wed Guenever, 474;\n is beaten by Arthur, 476;\n is killed, 479.\n Morgan le Fay (Arthur\u2019s sister), 27, 44, 57, 78, 80, 83;\n wishes to slay her husband, 85;\n shapes herself, horse and man, unto a stone, 86;\n takes Arthur, 481.\n Morganore, king, 38, 449.\n Morganore, Sir, 37, 177.\n Morgawse, queen (Arthur\u2019s sister), 56, 139;\n the fairest, 208.\n Morians, 40.\n Moris, Sir, 105.\n Moris de la Roche, 37.\n Morris, forest of, 232.\n Mortaise,\n Mountenance, extent, 131, 256.\n Nabon le Noire, Sir, 192.\n Nacien (the hermit), 352;\n says how the quest should be made, 353;\n interprets dreams, 380;\n Nanowne le Petite, Sir, 192.\n Nappus, 375.\n Naram, 48.\n Nauntes, city of, 42.\n Neroreneus, Sir, 455, 469.\n Nerovens de Lile, Sir, 201, 202, 449.\n Nigramous, lady of the castle, 125.\n Nigromancy, 27.\n Nimue, 73;\n Merlin falls in a dotage on, 75;\n Nobley, splendour, 244.\n Normandy, duke of, 469.\n Northfolk, 477.\n Northgalis, queen of, 113;\n Noseling, on his nose, 395.\n Noyous, injurious, 398.\n Ontzlake, Sir, 79, 81.\n Orgule, pride, 485.\n Orgulous, haughty, 475.\n Orgulous, castle, 199.\n Osanna, Sir, 96.\n Ossaise of Surluse, Sir, 281.\n Ouche, jewelled ornament, 465.\n Out Isles, queen of, 113.\n Overthwart, across, 134, 143.\n Pageant, 316.\n follows the questing beast, 250;\n hates Sir Tristram, 292;\n slays two knights, 299;\n justs with Sir Ector, 305;\n is a traitor, 312;\n sees his faded visage in a well, 323;\n made a duke, 469.\n Paltock (paletot), a coat with sleeves, 108.\n Pampoille, country of, 100.\n Pardiak, earl of, 469.\n Parliament is called, 469, 474.\n Pase, earl of, 272.\n Passe-Brewel (Tristram\u2019s horse), 220.\n Patrise, Sir,\n is poisoned, 413;\n Payarne, country of, 33.\n Pedivere, Sir,\n cuts his wife\u2019s head off, 127;\n Pellam of Listengise, king, 59, 63.\n Pellandris, 204.\n Pelleas, Sir, 89;\n smites down ten knights, 90;\n sent for by Arthur to go with him to fight, 76;\n Pellogris, 204.\n Pellounes, Sir, 221.\n Pelownes, castle of, 321.\n Pelowres, Pillers, men who fight for pillage, 281.\n Pendragon, castle of, 201, 202.\n Pensel, small flag, 280.\n Pentecost, 30;\n feast of, 97;\n feast of, and holy graile, 353;\n Percard, Sir, 134;\n the black knight, 138;\n Perch, pierce, 184.\n Percivale de Galis, Sir, 47, 139, 152, 259;\n seeks Sir Tristram, 284;\n comes to a recluse, 365;\n one of the men that most believed in Christ, 369;\n punishes his own flesh, 372;\n lays his dead sister in a barge, 401;\n Perclose, enclosure, 367.\n Perdy (per Dieu), truly, 144, 155.\n Perigot (peregrine), a kind of falcon, 125.\n Perigot, earl of, 469.\n Perimones, Sir (the red knight), 138, 148, 153, 160, 449;\n Perin de la Montaine, 273.\n Perin de Mountbeliard, 58.\n Peris de Forest Savage, Sir, 119.\n Peron, tombstone, 239.\n Persides de Bloise, Sir, 221, 226, 228;\n bound to a stone, 335.\n Pertilope, Sir, 449, 459.\n Pertolepe, Sir (the green knight), 138, 148, 160.\n Peschour, king, 363.\n Petchere, lord, 351.\n Petersaint, land of, 110.\n Petipase of Winchelsea, Sir, 70, 152, 448.\n Phariance, Sir, 33, 38, 41.\n Phelot, Sir, 125.\n Pight, pitched, 25.\n Pike, take away, 237, 468.\n Piller, plunderer, 479.\n Pillounes, 204.\n Pinel, 36.\n Pinel le Savage, Sir, tries to poison Sir Gawaine, 413;\n Placidas, Sir, 34.\n Plaine de Amoure, Sir, 203.\n Plaine de Force, Sir, 203, 449.\n Plains, earl of, 388.\n Pleasance, land of, 110.\n Pluere, castle of (weeping castle), 181.\n Plump, clump of trees, 40.\n Poictiers, duke of, 469.\n Pointment, appointment, 478.\n Pomitain, island of, 277.\n Pope of Rome, 127, 284;\n threatens Arthur, 464.\n Portingale, country of, 100.\n Potestate, 106.\n Pounce, country, 100.\n Priamus, Sir, 108;\n is christened, and made a knight of the Table Round, 110;\n Pricker, light rider, 108.\n Pricking, riding, 368.\n Pridam le Noire, 382, 383.\n Prise, the note blown on the death of the stag, 79.\n Prisoner, 231.\n Provence, duke of the, 469.\n Pursuivants, messengers, 219.\n Purvey, provide, 28, 49.\n Quarel, a bolt from a crossbow, 330.\n Querne, duke of, 469.\n Questing, baying, giving tongue as hounds do, 43, 207, 250.\n Rack of bulls, herd, 378.\n Raines, a town in Brittany, famous for fine cloth, 485.\n Ransack, examine, 104.\n Rash, tear off (arracher), 118.\n Also rush.\n Rasure, cutting wind, 437.\n Raynold, Sir, 122.\n Rechate, recal, 286.\n Recreant, 82, 83.\n Red Castle, 96.\n Powys Castle, so called in Welsh.\n Rede, counsel, 157, 443.\n Reynold, Sir, 448.\n Rience of North Wales, king, 41, 42. See Ryons.\n Rivage, shore, 409.\n Roche-dure, 237.\n Rochester, bishop of, 464.\n Rock, lady of the, 96.\n Roerge, earl of, 469.\n Romans, 99;\n fight with the Britons, 104.\n Rome, emperor of, 45, 98.\n Rome, growl, roar, 101.\n Roted, practised, 271.\n Rounspik, a branch with other branches growing out of it, 126.\n Rowse, duke de la, 156, 160.\n Ryons, king, 48, 52;\n brought to Arthur, 55.\n See Rience.\n Sacring, consecrating, 367.\n Sad, heavy: Sadly, steadily, 435.\n Saint Michael\u2019s mount, a famous place of pilgrimage in Normandy, 102.\n Saint Stephen\u2019s, church of, 56, 66.\n Samite, rich silk sometimes interwoven with gold or silver, 370.\n Sanam, earl, 41.\n Sangreal\n (Sancgreal, the holy greal, graale, or grail. See Introduction, p.\n quest of, 60;\n adventures of, 64;\n what it is, 337;\n Sir Galahad is to achieve it, 351;\n appears not to sinners, 381;\n its etymology, 491.\n Saracens, 40, 42 (or infidels), 100;\n of Southland, 108;\n Sarpi, girdle, 465.\n Sarras,\n the spiritual place, 408.\n Sasere, Sir, 139.\n Sauseise, 275.\n Schedule, letter, 476.\n Scotland, 30;\n Scots, king of, 177, 434.\n Scout-watch, 35.\n Search, examine by a surgeon, 167.\n Selises, 303.\n Selivant, Sir, 338, 339.\n Semound the Valiant, 276.\n Sendal, cloth of, a thin silk, 106, 114.\n Seneschal, the chief officer, whether of the household or of the\n dominions of a sovereign, 29, 232.\n Sentonge, duke of, 469.\n Sentraile, Sir, 449.\n Sentraille de Lushon, Sir, 190.\n Servage, Isle of, 192, 194.\n Servause le Breuse, Sir, 448.\n Sessoin (perhaps Soissons), Saxony, 263;\n Sessoyne, land of, 105.\n Severn, river, 359.\n Sewer, the officer who set on the dishes and tasted them, 160.\n Shaftmon, a measure from the top of the extended thumb to the other\n end of the fist or palm, about six inches, 147.\n Shawe, thicket, 233.\n Shend, damage, 470.\n Shenship, 346.\n Shent, confounded, disgraced, 141.\n Sherwood, forest of, 41.\n Shrew, rascal, scamp, 280.\n Shrewd, evil, 217.\n Siege Perilous, 66, 326;\n sat in by Galahad, 348;\n taken by Sir Galahad, 350;\n Simeon, 406.\n Sith, since, 361.\n Sithen, since, 118.\n Slake, ditch, ravine, 114.\n Soil, To go to, hunting term for taking to the water, 433.\n Soleise, king of, 76.\n Sondes, sendings, messages, 475.\n Sorceress, 447.\n Sorhaute, 42.\n Sorlouse of the Forest, 67.\n Soul, how it left the body, 280.\n Southfolk, 477.\n South Marches, duke of, 95.\n Sowdan of Surrey, 106.\n Spaniards, 100.\n Spere, ask, 362.\n Spolute, 110.\n Stalk, a hunting term, 433.\n Stole, part of a priest\u2019s dress, worn round the neck, 373.\n Stonied, stunned, 132.\n Stour, battle, 383, 463.\n Straight Marches, king of the, 307.\n Straked, blew a horn, 215.\n Sue, follow, 361.\n Suffragan, 347.\n Supper, 79.\n Suppinabiles, Sir, 191, 449.\n Suppings, 215.\n Surlat, earldom of, 469.\n Surrey, 477.\n Surrie, country of, 100.\n in the red stone, 349;\n Swough, sound, 100.\n one hundred and fifty the complement of, 128;\n is to be broken, 327;\n Arthur\u2019s fear of, 353;\n is entered into the quest, 363;\n more than half the knights are slain, 405;\n the remnant meets again, 411;\n the knights\u2019 names, 448;\n fellowship of the, broken for ever, 457;\n Taches, qualities, disposition, 163.\n Tallages, taxes, 99.\n Tarce, country of, 100.\n Taulas, 96.\n Tauleas (a giant), 214.\n Taulurd (a giant), 96.\n Teen, grief, 107.\n Terrabil, castle of, 25, 26, 53, 56.\n Thames, river, 431, 440.\n Thrall, 361.\n Thring, push, press, 459.\n Thrull, pierce, 200.\n Tintagil,\n castle of (a castle in Cornwall, the ruins of which still exist),\n To brast, To-shiver, &c., break to pieces, 331.\n Tolleme la Feintes, king, 356.\n Tor (the cowherd\u2019s son), 65, 69, 75;\n is chosen a knight of the Table Round, 78;\n (called) Sir Tor le Fise de Vayshoure, 209;\n Tor le Fise Aries, Sir, 247.\n Trasing and rasing, dodging and striking, 117.\n Travers, At, coming across them, 407.\n Treason, 177;\n what it included, 414;\n its punishment, 457.\n Tremble, port of, 110.\n a term of hunting, the technical meaning of which I cannot find:\n but the word is in Romance the participle of Trere, tirer,\n trahere.\n Trian, Sir, 246.\n Trinity, Holy, 356, 409.\n Tristram de Liones, Sir, 54, 89, 96;\n kills Sir Marhaus, 98;\n why he was so named, 162;\n overcomes Sir Marhaus, 166;\n calls himself Tramtrist, 168;\n kills Sir Brunor and his lady, 183;\n marries, 191;\n recounts his adventures, 216;\n is a devil and no man, 224;\n justs with Sir Launcelot, 227;\n is imprisoned, 231;\n at Tintagil, 264;\n fights Sir Elias, 266;\n attempt to kill, 283;\n is the best chaser and horn-blower: all good terms of venery and\n hunting came from, 286, 291;\n sees the dead knight with a letter, 294;\n justs at Lonazep, 304;\n Sir Palamides envies, 313;\n smites down Arthur, 316;\n has a wound six inches deep, 325;\n Troilus, 467.\n Truage, tribute, 98.\n Truss, take up, pack up, make ready, 369, 469.\n Turkey, country of, 100.\n Turnance, Isle of, 394.\n Turquine, Sir, 112;\n is killed by Sir Launcelot, 118;\n Tursauk, earl of, 469.\n Tuscany, warriors of, 100;\n country of, 107;\n Ubbley, sacramental bread, 408.\n Ulbause, earl, 448.\n Ulbawes of Surluse, earl, 281.\n Ulfin, Sir, 392.\n Ulfius, Sir,\n seeks Merlin, 26;\n Umbecast, cast about, 433.\n Umberere, the part of the helmet which shaded the eyes, 197.\n Underne, Undorne, nine in the morning, 144, 463.\n Unhappy, causing ill luck, 479.\n Unnethe, scarcely, 92.\n Unwimple, to uncover, to show, 273.\n Unwrast, untwisted, unbound, 190.\n Urbine, city of, 110.\n Urience of the land of Gore, king, 448.\n Uriens, king (Arthur\u2019s brother-in-law), 27, 31, 35, 37, 42, 57;\n chosen a knight of the Table Round, 78;\n his wife wants to kill him, 85;\n Urre, Sir, 446;\n made a knight of the Table Round, 450;\n Utas, eighth day of a festival, 100.\n Utas of Hilary, 100.\n Uther Pendragon, sends for Tintagil, lays siege to Terrabil, 25;\n sees Merlin, 26;\n marries Igraine, 27;\n Utterance, uttermost (outrance), 199.\n Uwaine le Blanchemains, Sir (king Uriens\u2019 son), 85;\n suspected and sent from court 87;\n fights Sir Marhaus, 88;\n smites thirty knights, 96;\n Uwaine les Adventurous, 248.\n Uwaine les Avoutres, Sir, 152, 361, 379, 448.\n Vagon, castle of, lord of, 354.\n Vale, earl de, 373.\n Vale, king of the, 76.\n Varlet, servant, 290.\n Vawse, lady de, 95.\n Venery, hunting, 163.\n Ventails, breathing holes, 295.\n Vermins, 286.\n Vicecount, vale of, 110.\n Viterbe, 110.\n Waits, watchmen, 156.\n march of, 96;\n Wallop, gallop, 45, 72.\n Wandesborow, 40;\n castle of, 42.\n Wap, strike, move quickly, 480. Mr. Tennyson renders \u2018Wap and wan\u2019 by\n \u2018lapping on the crag.\u2019\n Warison, reward, 216.\n Waste Lands, queen of the, 365;\n takes Arthur, 481.\n Web of lead, a thin sheet of, 485.\n Weeds, dress, 308, 399.\n Weld, possess, 151.\n Well, Galahad\u2019s, 406.\n Wend, thought, 97.\n Werwolf, a man turned into a wolf by magic, 449.\n Westminster, 414, 416;\n church of, 418;\n Wight, active, brave, 135, 200.\n Williars le Valiant, Sir, 484, 487.\n Winchester\n Windesan, city of, 42.\n Windsor, 412;\n forest of, 433.\n Wisshard, Sir, 107, 108.\n Witch, 31.\n Witchcraft, 51.\n Wood, mad, 332.\n Worship, honour, 197, 415.\n Worts, herbs, 379.\n Wrake, wrack, destruction, 451.\n York, parliament held at, 100.\n Yule, Christmas, 108.\n When italics were used in the original book, the corresponding text\n has been surrounded by _underscores_. Superscripted letters have been\n preceded by ^, and the letter n with a macron above it has been\n represented as [=n].\n Some presumed printer's errors have been corrected, including\n normalizing punctuation. Unusual spellings and alternate spellings\n were preserved as printed, except where noted below. The variable\n spelling of proper names is addressed by the editor in the\n (here). Therefore, in the few cases that a correction has been made\n to a proper name, the rationale for that correction has been\n provided. Corrections are listed below with the printed text (top)\n and corrected text (bottom):\n love for her whom he does not know to he his sister (p. xi)\n love for her whom he does not know to be his sister\n mediaeval (p. xiv)\n medi\u00e6val\n Marte phalanges. (p. xxv)\n Marte phalanges.\u2019\n matters, came into England. (p. 23)\n matters, he came into England.\n Now turn me unto Sir Launcelot (p. 127)\n Now turn we unto Sir Launcelot\n said sir Tristram (p. 178)\n said Sir Tristram\n wheresover (p. 207)\n wheresoever\n Paynim\n (based on 10 occurrences of p/Paynim(s) and on the fact that the\n alternate spelling would significantly change the pronunciation)\n siege\n Launclot (p. 364)\n Launcelot\n (based on 2447 occurrences of Launcelot and only one occurrence of\n Launclot)\n Pertilope\n Servause le Bruese\n Duplicate words were removed in the following sentences (the\n duplicated word was always found at the end of one line and at the\n beginning of the next line):\n p. 316 and gat the the horse\n p. 392 for for so is our Lord\u2019s will.\n p. 413 Porte, to to take a poisoned apple.\n p. 448 Sir Tristram the the noble knight\n The last three chapters of Book Four were renumbered to match the\n Table of Contents.\nEnd of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Le Morte Darthur, by Thomas Malory\n*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LE MORTE DARTHUR ***\n***** This file should be named 46853-0.txt or 46853-0.zip *****\nThis and all associated files of various formats will be found in:\nProduced by Irma Spehar, Sonya Schermann and the Online\nfile was produced from images generously made available\nby The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries)\nUpdated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions\nwill be renamed.\nCreating the works from public domain print editions means that no\none owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation\n(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without\npermission and without paying copyright royalties. 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